Fern Michaels - Heartbreak Ranch

Next, she knelt beside the old trunk in the corner and lifted the lid. Toddy sat down beside her. With a glance toward the man on the bed, she reached in and took out her life’s work, a personal journal entitled The Art of Fascination. Inside the leather-bound book were the secrets of her success, the information and procedures that had earned her the title of Queen of the Barbary Coast, and had made her a legend.

Lamplight flickered over her meticulously written notes of men’s likes and dislikes, their reactions and responses, as well as the various techniques she employed to enhance their sexual pleasure.

With the help of a Chinese herbalist she had developed recipes for wines, potions, elixirs and scents that worked as aphrodisiacs and stimulants.

Her fingers toyed with the springy curls atop the poodle’s head. Even he had proved useful—giving her ideas about how to control a man’s behavior. Through the years she had discovered that most men responded best to simple commands, just like a dog.

Along with the deed to Heartbreak Ranch, The Art of Fascination would be part of Amy’s inheritance, which was why she’d written it in English. Bella smiled as she slipped the document into the journal, tucked it in among her other treasures and closed the lid of the trunk.

Sam moaned pitifully and doubled up, drawing his knees to his chest. Bella stood and walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down beside him.

“Poor Sam,” she whispered as she smoothed his shining black hair off his forehead. His skin was cold and clammy. He had begun to tremble. He was too far gone to fight her.

Before the crimps came, before Sam lost consciousness, she wanted him to know that she knew of his plans.

“I loved you, Sam,” she told him. “I think I’ll always love you.”

“I’m...sick, Bella,” Sam ground out, his teeth rattling. “G-get a d-doctor.”

Bella smiled sympathetically, then shook her head. “What you have is not fatal, though I was tempted, believe me.”

He stopped writhing long enough to squint up at her.

“What...are you...talking about?”

“The drug I had Felice put in your drink. You’re going to get much worse before you get better. Tomorrow, by the time you regain consciousness, I expect you’ll be on your way to the port of Shanghai. I hope you don’t get seasick on top of everything else.” She touched her fingertips to her lips, then placed them upon his mouth. “I will miss you, mon cher.”

“You bitch!” He tried to raise himself up on his elbow, but collapsed. “You poisoned me?”

“I’m afraid so, Sam. But, as I said, it will not kill you. Although by this time tomorrow, you will wish it had.”

He moaned again.

Bella nodded at him. “I know all about your plan to seduce me, to humiliate me. What was it you called me? A two-dollar—no, a two-bit whore? I assure you, Sam, I am worth far more than two bits.”

His face twisted. “I would have won that bet, too.”

Bella smiled. “I am afraid I will have the last laugh after all.”

Toddy growled at a noise outside. Bella got up and walked over to the window. She pulled aside the Belgian lace curtains, then opened the window. Two swarthy figures appeared out of the fog and crawled inside. The smell of sweat, fish and the sea eddied about them.

“He’s ready,” Bella said, pointing to the bed. “Take him. Quickly. Please.” She was trembling so badly she had to grasp the back of a chair for support.

Unable to watch, she pressed her palm against her heart and headed for the opposite door.

“Come, Toddy.” He pranced across the room to her side. “That’s my good boy,” she said, praising the dog in the honeyed tone she used whenever he did exactly as she commanded.

The crimps took hold of Sam Heart and jerked him to his feet. He retched and vomited on his shining black boots as well as the crimps’ worn ones, earning himself a rap on the side of the head.

“Damn you, Bella Duprey!” Sam cursed. He struggled futilely as the seamen dragged him to the window. “I hope you go to hell for this,” he gasped.

“I think it is you, Sam, who is going to hell.”

Her heart breaking, Bella lingered in the doorway with her fingers clutching the brass doorknob. As the crimps shoved Sam Heart out into the night, the man mustered one last burst of energy.

He lashed out, kicking and swearing. The toe of his boot caught on the edge of the table beside the window and sent the kerosene lamp atop it crashing to the floor.

Glass shattered. Kerosene spilled. Immediately, tongues of orange flame licked up the lace curtains, raced down across the polished wooden floor and encircled the wooden chest.

Horrified, Bella screamed and ran toward the fire. She could think of only one thing—saving her precious trunk filled with memories of the past and hopes for the future.

Amy’s Story

Chelley Kitzmiller

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER ONE

Barbary Coast

San Francisco, California

One week later

“I GOTTA WARN YOU, missy. There ain’t much left to see.”

Amelia Duprey sat perched on the edge of the buggy seat, her gloved hands tightly clenched around Toddy’s braided silk leash. Despite the warning, when the buggy rounded the curve, she gasped at the sight of the charred ruins of the Cock O’ The Walk. It was almost as shocking as coming home from school to the news of her mother’s death only hours before.

Howard Evans reined the horse to the side of the road and set the brake. “Hard to take, ain’t it?”

Amy nodded, unable to speak. Only the stairs were left standing. As a child, she used to hide behind a potted palm at the top of them and watch her mother greet the customers.

Toddy’s whine drew Amy’s attention away from the rubble. “I know, boy. I know.” She put a comforting arm around the dog and patted his shoulder. In a sitting position, the curly canine was as tall as Amy.

“I couldn’t bring myself to ask you before,” Amy ventured, “but...do you know how the fire got started?”

“Well, I—” Howard hesitated, regarding her with a look of uncertainty. “Considering it happened so suddenlike, I ’spect someone knocked over a kerosene lamp.”

“Was there a fight?”

Howard shook his head. “Your mama didn’t allow no fights. Fact is, everything was goin’ as planned—I mean...just fine.”

Amy’s brow puckered in question but before she could speak, Howard went on to explain.

“She’d finished dealing for the night and went upstairs,” he said, his gaze on the ruins. “It weren’t an hour later when she come running back down, leading Toddy with one hand, dragging her trunk with the other and screaming, ‘Fire!’” He paused and took a deep breath as if to muster the courage to finish. “Everyone panicked and started running every which way. I grabbed the cash box and ran out the side door to go ring the fire bell. By the time I got back, the place was ablaze. Bella weren’t nowhere in sight, but she’d tied Toddy up to the handle on her trunk so I figured she was all right.” He bowed his head. “I figured wrong,” he said on a down note. “She’d gone back inside.”

“Why would she go back in?” Amy asked.

“For that.” With a glance behind him, Howard indicated the blanket-wrapped bundle in the rear seat. “Next thing I knew she come running out of the building dragging that painting of hers. By the time I got to her she was on her knees gasping for air. I done everything I could to try to save her, but there weren’t nothing I could do. She died in my arms.”

Thinking about the horror of that night, of the terrible way her mother had died, Amy shuddered. She would never understand why her mother had risked her life to save a painting. But then there was a lot Amy would never understand about her mother, which was exactly the way it was meant to be. Bella Duprey’s mystique was part of her success.