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  "Coffee's done." Crawford was still wondering whether to go outside and warn Sapphire even as he went to the stove to pour out two mugs of the dark, bitter liquid.

  "Listen, my boy," Jeb said as he sat down in his chair and rested a booted ankle on his other thigh. "I know you're not a man of many words, and I know you're probably sick to death of me trying to get you to talk. Which is why, in just a moment, I will shut up and leave you be."

  Crawford hadn't even finished his inward sigh of relief before the sheriff continued.

  "But first, there are a couple of things I want to say to you. Number one, what happened to you back in San Francisco was a tragic thing. No one's denying that, least of all me. It must have been just awful to deal with, especially for a man with a good heart—like you. No, let me finish. You do have a good heart. You hide it well, with all your sharp words and even sharper stare, but deep down inside, you have a real sense of right and wrong, which is one of the reasons why I hired you."

  Crawford's protest was immediately halted by Jeb's raised hand.

  "No, wait. I'm still not done yet. I don't doubt that you feel awful about what happened but here's the thing: you can't atone forever. You need to let that shit go. Forgive yourself. Brooding about it for the rest of your life would be a real waste, not just for you, but for those around you. Just think about it: if that girl happens to have feelings for you, too, then you're not just doing yourself a disservice by staying away, but also her. What about her happiness? Why punish her for something she had no part in? Not to mention the fact that you can suffer for fifty lifetimes and it still won't undo what happened. But you only get one life, son. There are no do-overs.

  "And number two, I need you back on your game. There's a dangerous gang of road agents roaming the foothills out there, attacking, assaulting and robbing families. People with children. They don't care who they're stealing from so long as they get something they can sell. Not to mention the fact that Culpepper is a growing town; more and more folks are coming here every day, and it's down to us to keep the peace. So here's a direct order: either sort out whatever's troubling you so you can get back to work, or hand me that deputy emblem on your shirt and go mope somewhere else while I hire someone who can focus. The choice is yours."

  "No need to fire me, Sheriff," Crawford said at length. "I'll work it out. I promise."

  "Good. See that you do. And for God's sake, be quick about it."

  As Jebediah Justice picked up his mug and took it outside, Crawford put his head in his hands. His boss was right, he needed to do something. The problem was, he had no idea what.

  * * *

  "Did you get the ribbon?" Opal bounced excitedly on Sapphire's bed.

  "Of course. And Sam told me to tell you hello." Sapphire perched on the edge of her mattress and began to fish around in her bag. "I got some black, some blue, some scarlet to match our petticoats…" She laid the lengths of lacy material down as she retrieved them. "Let me see… some white, this pretty purple one right here, and—"

  "Yellow?" Opal prompted impatiently.

  Frowning, Sapphire rummaged harder in her reticule. "I know I got some yellow, just for you! I distinctly remember asking for it. Where the heck could it be?"

  The other girl shrugged. "No matter, I'll pick some up next time I'm in town. In the meantime, can I have some of this?" She held up the red one with her sweetest smile. "It's just beautiful."

  "On one condition."

  "Hey, you owe me!"

  Sapphire giggled. "I know, I know. All right, yes, you can have some of that one. It's just… I need some advice. Do you have a few minutes? I don't know who else to talk to."

  Immediately Opal's expression turned serious. "Why of course, hon! What's wrong?" A frown creased her beautiful face. "You having moon trouble?"

  Despite herself, Sapphire chuckled. "Oh no, nothing like that. Besides, I've been doing nothing but dances since last month."

  "That's a relief." The brunette scooted closer. "So what is it then?"

  "You have to promise not to breathe a word about this to anyone. Ever. Please."

  "On my honor. I promise I will take whatever you are about to tell me to the grave." Opal's slender fingers danced across her breast, making a cross shape, then she kissed her hand.

  Staring at her lap, Sapphire took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to begin. Or how to explain it, for that matter."

  "Just try. If I need clarification, I'll ask."

  "I just thought I'd ask you because you're so much more experienced than I am… you know, since you've been here for so long, and worked in other establishments before coming here with Madame Jewel, and… well, do you feel anything?"

  "I'm not sure what you mean."

  "Ugh, I knew this would be impossible to explain!" Sapphire threw herself back on the mattress, glaring at the ceiling in frustration. She felt Opal take her hand.

  "Take a deep breath, sweetie," her friend said gently, lying down beside her. "What do you mean, do I feel anything? You mean in my heart? My gut? What?"

  "Whenever a man escorts me to my room, it's like I'm numb," Sapphire began, slowly. "I try to avoid being touched wherever possible, but obviously it can't be completely avoided. But no matter where their hands end up, or what they do to me, I feel… nothing."

  "That's not so unusual. Some gems—like me—really enjoy what they do with their visitors, but others see it more as a service of sorts. They give the fella what he wants and get paid in return."

  "Yes, but there is one man, who, when he touches me… oh lawd, I don't know how to describe it. I get this fluttering in my belly, and tingles all over my body. It's terrifying!"

  "Is it unpleasant?" Opal asked.

  "Yes! No! Oh, I don't know! It confuses me. I've never experienced anything like it before."

  "Does anything happen between your legs?"

  "Opal!" Blushing furiously, Sapphire closed her eyes. "Yes. I get slick and… well, let's just say it feels nice." It took a moment for her to sense that the bed was shaking. Then she realized it was because her friend was laughing, her whole body convulsing with silent mirth. "What in the hell is so funny?" she snapped.

  "I'm sorry!" Opal wiped her eyes. "I really am, hon, I just can't believe anyone can have been a gem here for so long—and wear a red petticoat night after night, no less—and be so darn innocent when it comes to lust!"

  "Lust?"

  "Yes! Lust! Desire. Fancy. The thing that drives men to part with their hard-earned gold because they want it so desperately."

  Sapphire rolled her eyes. "I know that men get it," she said sourly. "I wasn't born yesterday. I just didn't know that women…"

  "Of course women can experience it too. How else would there be gems who enjoy what they do for a living? It's not just me, either; you can ask Amy or Dottie or several others and they'll tell you they feel the same way. Wait a minute." Opal sat upright, her dark brown eyes suddenly wide with astonishment. "Are you telling me you've never felt desire? Not ever? Not once in all your life?"

  Sapphire shook her head.

  "So you've never even touched yourself?"

  Sapphire shrugged. "When I bathe, I make sure I'm clean, of course, but otherwise…"

  "So you've never climaxed." It was almost as though Opal was talking to herself as she lay back down. "I'll be damned. Do you ever have a treat in store!"

  Sapphire bit her lip, still staring at the pale cream bedroom ceiling, feeling like a complete fool. She should never have asked Opal. Uncertain what her friend meant by "climax," she didn't dare to ask.

  "Listen to me." Opal's tone was kind, gentle, and without a trace of scorn. "I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or embarrass you."

  "It's fine."

  "No, hon, it's not. You came to me wanting advice, and I've yet to give it. Please accept my apologies."

  "No need." Sapphire blinked hard, swallowing back the sudden lump in her throat.

  "There is every need.
To be perfectly honest, I find your admission endearing. And lord knows, you hide your inexperience well. There are men lining up to dance with you every night, all the gems and your other friends love you, including me, and you have the sharpest wit I've ever seen. It's sad that no-one's ever given you pleasure before, but at least you've found someone now who can."

  "I haven't."

  "Haven't what?"

  "Found someone."

  "But you said you'd met a man who made you—"

  "He doesn't want me," Sapphire blurted out.

  "He touches you, doesn't he?"

  "Yes, but not in that way. He's not a patron of the Petticoat. He's… he's different."

  Opal sighed. "How do you know he doesn't want you? Have you asked him?"

  Sapphire could feel the heat once again rising to her face. "Of course not! But when he came in here the other night, I asked him to dance, and he… left." There was no way she could tell Opal exactly what had happened. That she'd been almost naked and that Crawford had still seen fit to walk out rather than join her on the bed.

  "Come here." Opal enveloped her in a hug and Sapphire was surprised at how much she relished the gesture. She wasn't used to physical affection, not from anyone. "Now listen carefully, honey. Yes, it is perfectly normal to feel desire with certain men. Some of us can feel it with a variety of guys; enjoy the act just for the sake of it, regardless of whether there are any other feelings involved. On the other hand, there are many women where it's just one guy who makes them feel that way. For Emelie, it's Charlie, for Rebekah, it's the sheriff, and for Pearl, well, she has five of them. But you get the picture."

  "I do."

  "Now if you don't want to tell me the identity of the man who has your loins ablaze, that's just fine, but I will tell you this: if you want him, you should go after him. Show him how much you desire him. If he's a typical man, if he can't take a hint, tell him you want him. If he still rejects you, that's his loss. Although I can't imagine how any man could turn you down." Opal played with one of Sapphire's ringlets, letting it slip through her fingers. "You're beautiful."

  "Stop it," Saph grumbled. "You're making me blush."

  Opal shrugged. "Just telling it like it is. Now, are you going to be all right?"

  "I guess so."

  "Are you going to take any of my advice?"

  Such was Opal's gregarious personality, it was impossible to stay grumpy for long when in her presence. Sapphire found herself smiling despite herself. "I might."

  "Let me know if you do. I can't wait to find out how it all pans out. I'd better get downstairs, I can hear Charlie starting to play."

  "Hey, Opal?"

  The brunette paused with her hand on the door handle. "Yes?"

  "Thank you for letting me talk to you."

  "Anytime, sweetheart."

  Once she was alone, Sapphire put her hands behind her head, her mind whirling. If anything, talking to Opal had made her even more confused than she'd been before. Too shy to ask what a climax was, there was no way she would have dared mention the fact that the way Crawford had spanked her, the way he intimidated her, was a big part of what fueled the flame of her desire for him. It couldn't be normal, otherwise Opal would have said something. Wouldn't she?

  There had to be some way to work everything out, to sort out her feelings. First, she had to find a way to be alone with the deputy once again. He never visited the saloon, at least not when the sheriff was on duty, so she'd have to come up with a plan.

  But what? What could she do that was so heinous she'd get hauled straight to the sheriff's office—without harming person or property? For a moment, she considered getting liquored up and starting to wreak havoc downstairs, but the most likely outcome if she did was that was for her to wind up receiving another dose of Mr. Gabe's strap. That wouldn't do at all.

  Then Sapphire heard the whinny of a horse outside her window, and smiled.

  Chapter Five

  Eyes, wide with terror. A mop of black hair, cheeks which still hadn't lost the rotundity of youth, the unlined skin caked with mud. A trembling chin.

  The howls of his family, men in the crowd holding them back as they tried to push forward to save him; their son, their brother, her sweetheart.

  And then…

  Crawford jerked awake, the scent of gunpowder still stinging his nostrils.

  The nightmares had returned. He hadn't had them in weeks, but now, all of a sudden, they were back—worse than before. With a shaking hand, he pushed his hair off his forehead. His palms were slick with sweat.

  The cool fingers of the pale light of dawn were just creeping up over the hills as he made his way outside, dunking his head in the cold barrel of rainwater to bring himself back to reality.

  It was just a dream, he told himself, even though that was a lie. Truth be told, it was a memory… one he couldn't help reliving. Over and over again.

  Jeb Justice was to blame, of course. Every time the sheriff mentioned the incident, no matter in what context, the memories returned. Crawford always thought he'd managed to shove all those dark demons down into a box, slam the lid, and push the box and its contents deep into the back of his mind, never to be revisited. And it always worked… until the sheriff opened his damn mouth again.

  I should never have told him.

  But he'd had to, if only to find some brief, momentary relief in the unburdening of his conscience. If only to hear that it hadn't been his fault, that the guilt he lived with every single day was unnecessary. And Sheriff Justice had told him exactly that. The problem was, Crawford didn't—couldn't—believe him.

  As he washed and got dressed for another day of maintaining law and order in Culpepper Cove, Crawford found his thoughts turning back to the other subject which would not stop bothering him: the man he'd seen following Sapphire.

  Ever since that incident with Red Tie, Crawford had kept his eyes and ears open, hoping to see the man again. He was still tempted to warn her, but another part of him didn't want to cause her any undue alarm. Technically, the man hadn't done anything criminal. He hadn't harmed her.

  Yet, a small voice in his gut told him, but how would it look if he did tell her? "Hey Sapphire, I know it was really awkward when I came to return your dagger, but speaking of safety… there's a strange man who follows you down the street… and he sniffed your ribbon." Pulling on his boots, Crawford allowed himself a tight smile. The poor girl would think him insane.

  Maybe she'd be right.

  As was so often the case lately, he found himself wondering what she was doing right at that moment. It was so early in the morning, she'd be in bed, of course, sleeping off the excesses of the previous night's work. The image of her pale, naked body sprawled across the mattress rose, unbidden, in his mind's eye, and he swallowed, hard. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for having so rudely ignored her blatant invitation that evening when he'd returned her dagger. He'd replayed their encounter so often in his mind, remembering the way she'd looked at him, the unspoken pleading in her eyes, the curves of her breasts spilling out of the top of her tightly laced corset.

  Would she really have reacted with horror if he had accepted her overtures? If he'd marched across the room, taken a fistful of her hair, yanked her head back and claimed her mouth with all the savage hunger she induced in him?

  Or would she have yielded? Let him take her, let him do all the things he yearned to do to her, let him teach her all the things that her slender, graceful body was capable of?

  Readjusting his achingly hard cock in his pants, he vaulted up onto his horse and set off into town, trying his best to keep his mind on other things, if only to ease the throbbing in his crotch.

  By the time he turned into the main street, he'd managed to regain control of himself by thinking about the pile of yesterday's paperwork waiting for him at the office. Determined to prove to Sheriff Justice that he was more than capable of fulfilling his role of deputy, he was planning to have finished it all before Jeb arriv
ed for his shift at noon.

  Those plans were scuppered, however, when a horse thundered past him, quickly followed by a furious, yelling man.

  "That there's my horse!" he was shouting, his face almost maroon with rage. "Deputy! That damn whore's gone and stolen my horse!"

  Without taking a split second to think about it, Crawford whirled his own mount around and set off in hot pursuit.

  It didn't take him long to catch the horse thief. Just beyond the outskirts of town, the rider slipped sideways off the mare, landing with a painful looking thump in the long grass. As he drew closer, Crawford recognized the tumbling black ringlets and the flashing dark eyes.

  He was appalled.

  Pulling up beside her, he leaned down, making no move to get off his own horse. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said, icily.

  Sapphire stared up at him, her face slowly turning pink. "I-I fell off," she said quietly.

  "Are you hurt?"

  She shook her head.

  Struggling to maintain his composure, Crawford glanced about. The bay mare Sapphire had taken was grazing peacefully a few feet away, apparently unharmed.

  "This is what's going to happen," he said at length. "You are going to get up on here with me and we're going straight back into town. We are going to return that horse to her rightful owner, and you are going straight to jail."

  "No, wait," she said desperately. "Please, just let me—"

  "I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth," he interrupted her. "Get up, come over here, and don't you dare speak to me until we're back at the sheriff's office, or else I'll make you walk back." He glanced down, realizing that she was still wearing her nightgown. "Barefoot, that might not be so comfortable."

  For a moment, it looked as though she might argue, but then, with a little huff, she stood up, dusted the grass off her skirt, and moved over to where he was still sitting astride his horse.

  Crawford took her proffered hand and hauled her up onto his mount, settling her behind him. Her skin was cool to the touch, but even the dew soaking her gown wasn't enough to cool his white-hot anger.