As he neared the cabin, Call spotted Charity Sinclair where she stood at the near end of the cabin. She was watching the men on the roof, her head tilted back, hair hanging down to the middle of her back, a few wisps framing her face. The long shiny strands were a bright yellow-gold, exactly the color of a nugget he had once found in the creek.
She turned as he got closer and pasted a phony-looking smile on her face. “Well, Mr. Hawkins. How nice of you to come over for another neighborly chat.”
“This isn’t a neighborly chat, sweetheart, and you know it. What the hell is happening over here? I thought I told you I liked peace and quiet.”
“Yes, I believe you did. Unfortunately for you, I like being able to use my bathroom for something other than a place to hang wet towels and I prefer to cook my meals without rainwater dripping into my food.”
He’d seen her walking back and forth to the outhouse in her rain slicker. He’d wondered if she’d ever even seen one before. He glanced up at the sagging cabin roof. He figured it would start leaking sooner or later.
“That bad, huh?” He tried to keep the satisfaction out of his voice, but he could see by her pinched expression she had heard it.
“Let’s just say Mr. Flanagan had good reason to move.”
“How long till they finish the repairs?”
“Since the men seem to be working on ‘Klondike time,’ I have no idea. I guess it depends on whether or not the sun comes out.”
He ignored a flicker of amusement, clamped down on his jaw instead. “Well, the sooner they get done, the better. All that hammering is driving me crazy.”
Her smile remained frozen in place. “Maude tells me you own quite a lot of property along the creek. Perhaps you should think of relocating your house someplace farther back in the woods.”
Actually, he had thought of building deeper in the forest, but he liked looking down on the water. Besides, there was a limit to solitude, even for him. At least here he’d see a car on the road once in a while. Maude Foote stopped by on occasion, and he’d had Mose to argue with.
It seemed he would have fresh battles to fight with Charity Sinclair.
“I like my house right where it is,” he said, then changed tactics and added, “How much do you want for your property?”
Surprise widened those clear green eyes. She was wearing a red cotton turtleneck and he could see she had nice breasts. Her fancy jeans were filled out as well as he remembered, better maybe. Round behind, tiny waist, legs just the right length for the rest of her. His loins began to fill. It happened so rarely he took an unconscious step backward. Jesus, he couldn’t believe it.
“My property isn’t for sale,” she said, distracting him, thank God.
“I’ll double whatever you paid for it. You can buy a bigger piece of property somewhere else.”
“I don’t want a bigger piece of property. The Lily Rose belongs to me and I intend to keep it.”
“I’ll give you three times what you paid.”
Her lips flattened out. Before, he noticed, they’d been full and very nicely curved. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Hawkins. The Lily Rose is a mining claim. I intend to work that claim, as I have every right to do. You can offer me ten times the price I paid—a hundred. It wouldn’t make a whit of difference. I’m staying, Mr. Hawkins, whether you like it or not. If anyone’s going to move, it’ll have to be you!”
He drilled her with a glare and saw her tense a little at the forbidding look on his face. “You aren’t telling me you intend to set up a dredging operation on this property?” Anger softened his voice, making the unspoken threat all the more intimidating. Four years ago, his employees had cowered at that menacing tone but Charity didn’t back down.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. That’s what Mose Flanagan intended to do—he just never got around to it.”
“Sonofabitch!”
The smile she gave him looked downright evil. “Get used to it, Mr. Hawkins. I’m staying right here and working this claim. Accept it or move somewhere else.”
With that she turned and marched away. He tried not to notice that round behind, but his eyes refused to look anywhere else.
Sonofabitch, he silently repeated, thinking again of Mose and the secret laugh he must be getting out of this. Call turned and started walking. He didn’t look back all the way to the house. But even if he closed his eyes, he could still see the pretty little blonde with her nice breasts and round behind.
For months, he’d been telling himself it was time to reawaken the sexual side of his life. He wasn’t a monk, even if he had been living like one. A couple of weeks ago, he’d started seeing a divorcee in Dawson named Sally Beecham, a cocktail waitress at the Yukon Saloon he had known for a couple of years. Sally was a sexy little brunette and she had made it clear he was welcome in her bed whenever he was ready. He’d been telling himself that time would be soon.
But he’d never gotten hard looking at Sally.
Not like he was right now, just thinking of Charity Sinclair.
“I don’t believe that guy.” Charity walked over to where Maude stood on the porch. “Who the hell does he think he is?”
Maude chuckled. “Call’s got a burr under his saddle, all right. At times, he can be downright cantankerous. But folks say he’s got more money than he can count and that deal he was offerin’ sounded pretty darned good. You might shoulda taken it.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not selling. Not now or anytime in the foreseeable future.” Not for the next six months, at any rate. That was the time she had allotted herself and she wasn’t going anywhere until that time ran out.
“All right then, if that’s the way it is, I guess you and Buck had best be headin’ into town.”
Charity nodded. “I think he’s out in the equipment shed. I’ll go get him.”
With Maude there to oversee the repair work being done to the cabin, Charity and Buck drove down to Dawson, Buck behind the wheel of the Explorer, which made the trip a little less wearing on her nerves. Still, the man was gruff and surly, and she didn’t like the way he looked at her when he thought she couldn’t see.
The good news was they succeeded in their mission even better than she had expected. To her amazement and everlasting gratitude, Charity discovered that the Internet had arrived in Dawson City. There were, in fact, two tiny Internet cafes where she could send and receive e-mail from friends and family back home. Better yet, she found out through D. K. Prospecting that cell phones existed even in a rural place like Dawson.
While Buck assembled the equipment they would need, Charity signed up for cell phone service through Horizons Unlimited, tossing the bulky phone that had more power than the smaller models she was used to onto the seat of the Ford.
They were finished by late afternoon and on their way back to the cabin as dusk began to fall, the back of the Explorer filled with shovels, picks, gold pans, and miscellaneous gear, the larger equipment scheduled for delivery in the morning.
Unless, of course, the sun came out, in which case it might take a couple more days.
Charity’s sigh turned into a grin. It was different up here. There was none of the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. Her life was new and strange and she was enjoying every minute of it. Except for her trips to the outhouse, of course.
She was even enjoying her battles with Call Hawkins.
His