Chapter One

Adam Cartwright was in no hurry to get home. He rode slowly down through Johnson's Pass, down the steep grade into Lake Tahoe's upper valley. Ordinarily, he'd stop by Yank's Station, the first hostelry available in the Tahoe basin. But he was in no mood for the lengthy philosophical conversation he knew Ephraim 'Yank' Clements would draw him into, so he continued on in the gloaming. Smiling to himself, he knew exactly where he'd camp for the night; a calm, peaceful place with a serene beauty few in the world had ever seen; a place where the tranquility of the clean, pine-scented air, the majesty of the tall mountain silhouettes in the distance, and the sound and moonlight sparkle of the Jewel of the Sierra would sooth the remaining fire and longing he always felt when he returned from San Francisco and the company of one Aubrey Hoyle. With the Lady of the Lake, a curious outcropping beneath Cave Rock, to keep him company, he released Sport to graze in the tall grasses just off the road, such as it was, as he settled down onto his overturned saddle facing the lake, allowing the faint gurgle of the water lapping at the boulders on shore and the hypnotic flashes of the white moonlight on the tips of her waves to lull him into a sound sleep.

His father would never know the gratitude Adam genuinely felt when his shoulder was tapped to handle legal business in San Francisco. Of course, there were times when Ben Cartwright left Adam in charge of his brothers and the great ranch with its equally great responsibilities. It was those times when Adam missed his city companion the most; when she had almost been within reach only to be snatched out of his grasp and replaced with a lady of a different sort. But he would never argue or beg. His father didn't know about his consort, and truth be told, Adam didn't think his father would approve.

What his father thought, in this instance, didn't matter. Aubrey was beautiful and intelligent and had rather worldly experiences albeit strictly American. But what enamored him most was her realness; her down-to-earth honesty and candor. In a city where the majority of the populous were players in one class of game or another, she was refreshingly genuine.

Then again, there was a mystery about her. Due to the course of her life, she had become uncannily difficult to read; a skill she had learned early; a skill that kept her fed and clothed, both quite well. Whenever Adam even hinted at something more than that familiarity they often shared, her poker face appeared, and with it disappeared any chance of discussion.

At the moment, he was content to see her whenever he could, always so far, guaranteed of a warm place to lay his head during his stay in the city. With a faint smile to begin his day, he poured out the last of his coffee, stowed his breakfast pans and utensils in a saddle bag and mounted his faithful companion, sated for now and satisfied with going back to the home and family he loved and honestly missed until it was time to travel to the coast again and once more see the lovely poker player who graced the main table at Parker's each and every night.

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Aubrey Hoyle relaxed in the sitting room of her suite at the Parker House, the premier high stakes gambling parlor in San Francisco. Whenever Adam came and left, she was left questioning her chosen life of exile from what was considered normal for women. Adam had insinuated more than once that he was interested in more. He had invited her to Virginia City to meet his family, but she had swiftly declined.

Though she stared out a window overlooking a busy street, she saw nothing but the disappointment that had been on Adam's face when he quickly left. He knew her concerns. He knew her reasons and was well aware making even a minor commitment frightened her. The truth was she enjoyed playing poker, she enjoyed being able to go to her apartment at the end of the day responsible for no one but herself. And though he was a pleasant distraction and was probably more compatible than anyone she had ever known, she wasn't going to allow herself to fall in love with him.

Admonishing herself, she quickly vacated the chair in which she sat, went to the wardrobe and pushed dress after dress aside, looking for attire for the evening until she found the one that spoke to her. Dressing before an evening of poker had become a ritual. She could easily guess who would be there on any given night and made sure to wear a dress that played to each man's tastes. If they were looking at her, they weren't paying full attention to their cards.

She stopped cold as she moved her hair up on her head. Adam's disappointed face, still creeping into her thoughts, stared back at her from the mirror. "You will not fall for him," she said sternly to her reflection as she leaned back.

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Adam slowly rode into the yard of the Ponderosa where his father relaxed on the front porch reading the newspaper before dinner. Looking up, he gave his son a proud smile as Adam stepped down off Sport and loosely tied the reins to the hitching rail.

"Welcome home, Son," called Ben, walking forward with his hand extended.

"Pa," answered Adam, taking the offered hand.

"I hope you have some good news. Your telegram didn't say much."

"There wasn't much to say. The other side asked for a three-week continuance, and the judge granted it. I thought I'd do more good here rather than waiting around for the next court date."

Nodding, Ben moved his arm around his son's shoulders and turned him toward the house. "Well, you're just in time for supper. Why don't you get washed up? I'll get one of the hands to take care of your horse."

"Thanks, Pa."

Ben noticed Adam's vanishing smile as well as his introspective casualness. "Something bothering you?"

"Hm? I...I suppose I'm just tired. Long ride." Hoping his father wouldn't pursue the reason for his mood, he turned and walked swiftly into the house, not slowing down until he reached his bedroom and closed the door. He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and splashed water on his face, all the while wondering what was bothering him. He snorted and shook his head. Who was he kidding? She hadn't even considered his invitation. Had he misread her that badly? Had she been bluffing him the way she bluffed at poker?

He'd stood at the bar and watched her play time and time again. She had the art of distraction down pat, but she also possessed all the other accoutrements required to play the game well; the expressionless face, the unreadable, relaxed posture, and just the right amount of graciousness. The men who lost to her didn't seem to mind because of the way she made them feel; like they hadn't really lost anything, but rather paid for entertainment as they would have in a brothel or dance hall. She wasn't a whore, but what she was selling was mighty close; intimate entertainment without the physical part.

It was her enjoyment of the game...the whole game...more than her instant rejection of his invitation that bothered him most. He turned at a knock on the door.

"Dinner's ready."

"Be down in a minute," he answered, unbuttoning his shirt and quickly slipping on a clean one.

Hop Sing had prepared one of his favorite dinners, and when he came to clear the dinner plates before dessert, he frowned at the half-eaten food on Adam's plate. "Mista Adam not well?"

Smiling, Adam answered, "I feel fine, Hop Sing. I'm just tired. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure."

"Good," said Ben, wiping his mouth on his napkin. "Maybe we can discuss what's happened on the case tomorrow morning then."

"Pa, there's really not that much to talk about. They've spent most of the time introducing evidence and arguing what gets accepted and what doesn't. It's been a royal waste of time and money if you ask me."

Ben grunted. "I don't pay Hiram to waste time or money. I'm sure he's not the instigator."

Pushing away from the table, Adam said as we walked toward the stairs, "I believe the other attorney is hoping to tire Hiram out. If you'll all excuse me, I think I'll turn in and get an early start tomorrow. I'm sure Hoss and Joe would appreciate some help with the new fence."

"That's the most sense he's made all night," remarked Hoss, garnering a harsh look from his father.

"Good night, Son," said Ben just as Adam turned the corner at the top of the stairs.

A faint "Night, Pa," floated down the stairs.