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Chapter One
Silver Flats, Colorado
One year later
She wondered if she'd killed him.
Susannah Calhoun stared down at her employer, who lay unconscious on the sumptuous carpet of his dining room, and felt a twinge of remorse for hitting him with the very ugly statuette of the naked woman. But damn his hide, Brick Caldwell had gone too far in his amorous pursuit this time.
Gathering the skirts of her sky blue gown, she pushed back her silver blond hair and crouched beside his body, placing a hand on his neck. A pulse beat there, and she sighed with relief. But since he owned the opera house where she sang every night, she felt certain that she was now unemployed.
He moaned, and she quickly straightened. Brick was likely to awaken with the temperament of a wounded bull. It would be much healthier all around if she wasn't present when he opened his eyes.
As a matter of fact, the sooner she got out of Silver Flats — and beyond Brick Caldwell's reach — the better.
As if he read her thoughts, his eyelids flickered, then opened.
For a moment he stared blankly at her shoes. Susannah took a quick step back. With a groan, he rolled over onto his back and raised a hand to his head. His gaze slid to her face and stayed there for a long, breathless moment. Rage followed recognition.
"You!" he thundered, then winced and rubbed his head.
Brick's body blocked her escape, but if she timed it right, she might be able to get past him.
He suddenly sat up and grabbed for her, and only her quick maneuver prevented him from snagging her skirt with his fingers.
"Now, Brick," she cajoled. "Irealize you're probably a bit angry — "
"Angry?" he roared. "I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget." He staggered to his feet. "No woman is going to get the best of Brick Caldwell! And certainly not some opera house whore."
"Whore!" Incensed, Susannah propped her hands on her hips. "As I recall, you pig of a man, it was my refusal to be your whore that got us to this point!"
"You'll never work in this town again," Brick warned as if she hadn't spoken. Then his lascivious gaze came to rest on her generous bosom, and his expression took on a sly cast. "Unless you decide to mend your ways, that is."
"And I suppose your idea of mending my ways involves spending time in your bed? I don't think so." She glanced down his body. "The benefits appear to be very...small."
Brick's face flushed with fury. "You'll do what I tell you, Susannah Calhoun!"
"Get out of my way." She gave him a shove that upset his unsteady balance and sent him crashing into a mahogany table, and he fell heavily to the floor. The vase of flowers atop it wobbled and then smashed over his head, soaking his expensive pin-striped suit with water. Susannah eyed the daffodil that sat perched atop his balding pate. "By the way, Mr. Caldwell — I quit."
She skirted around his outstretched legs and hurried out into the hallway, his enraged bellow following her. As Susannah yanked open the front door, the housekeeper, Abigail Hawkins, came scurrying out of the kitchen.
"Better get your rifle, Mrs. Hawkins," she said. "Seems like there's a wounded bear in there. You might have to shoot him."
The housekeeper looked startled at first; then a smile flashed across her face. Susannah gave the woman a cheeky salute and hurried out into the night.
The sooner she saw the last of Silver Flats, the better.
Forty-eight hours later, Susannah watched Sheriff John Benning of Silver Flats turn the key to her jail cell. She had taken the early stage out of Silver Flats and made it halfway to Colorado Springs, before the local lawmen had caught up to the coach in search of her. They had called her a murderess and made a big scene of dragging her off the stage and back to Silver Flats.
To add insult to injury, the sketch on the wanted poster they had brought with them had been most unflattering.
"Sheriff Benning, this is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!" Susannah exclaimed as the lawman hung the key on a peg on the wall. "I did not kill Brick Caldwell!"
The sheriff sighed. "Look, Miss Calhoun, a neighbor saw you run out of the house after midnight that night."
Miss Calhoun. Susannah's heart clenched at his formality. Over the past few months, she and the sheriff's family had been developing a close friendship. Now the suspicion of murder put distance between them. "I won't deny that I was there, sheriff," she said, pride stiffening her spine.
His expression wavered between apology and duty. "From what Miss Anne Blanchard says, you had a supper with Mr. Caldwell after the show."
"Anne Blanchard!" Susannah snorted. "She wanted my spot on stage. And she wanted Brick for herself. Darn it, sheriff, she just wanted to be me!"
"Miss Calhoun, I don't think you appreciate the gravity of your situation here." Sheriff Benning pushed a hand through his dark hair and gave her a sympathetic look. "You're the only one we can place at the murder scene that night. Since he was killed with a knife from the dinner table...and since you left town early the next morning..."
"You think I killed him." Fear curled in the pit of her stomach. "But I didn't. Brick was alive when I left. Alive and cursing, as a matter of fact, since I'd just hit him over the head with a statue."
"Now, why would you go and do a thing like that?"
"Because he was trying to force me to become his mistress," she said bluntly. "Ask Abigail Hawkins, his housekeeper. She was there when I left. She heard Brick shouting after me."
