Chapter One

      March 1875

      The sight of the golden-haired beauty stopped Chip Evans in his tracks. He hadn’t seen the lovely Miss Caroline Hunt since he’d returned to Placerville. But there she stood, shielded from the California sunshine by the hotel’s balcony as she rummaged in the beaded handbag dangling from her wrist.

      He drank in the vision with the eagerness of a man who’d been stranded in the desert for days. The Plan didn’t call for him to begin courting a lady for another three years, but a fellow couldn’t pass up the opportunity to feast his eyes on such a striking specimen of femininity, could he?

      Callie, as everyone called the petite woman with the smile as warm as a spring day, could have walked out of the pages of one of those fashion magazines at the mercantile. Her light pink gown, with its form-fitting bodice, hugged her in all the right places. The rosiness in her cheeks added a nice splash of color, drawing his attention to her exquisite features—clear blue eyes, a pert nose and petal-soft lips. Or so he imagined.

      He gave himself a mental kick. Although he’d welcome the opportunity to kiss Callie, he had no business thinking such a thing. Sure, she’d agreed to dine with him. Once. They’d enjoyed a delicious meal with delightful conversation, but that was the extent of it. Entertaining romantic notions could be a distraction and keep him from reaching his goals.

      Why he’d asked her to join him in the first place remained a mystery. One minute she’d been seeing to his order at the Blair Brothers Lumber Company, where she worked as a clerk, and the next he’d issued the invitation. Giving in to an impulse wasn’t like him.

      Callie snapped her reticule shut, spied him and started. She composed herself, lifted a gloved hand to shoulder level and gave a demure wave, appearing almost shy. Odd. The Callie he knew exuded confidence.

      Chip sauntered across the wide main street to the Cary House, his boot heels thudding against the hard-packed earth. He stepped onto the plank walkway and struck a casual pose, leaning against one of the pillars supporting the balcony overhead. “Where are you off to all fancied up like that?”

      She blinked in rapid succession. “Fancied up? If you intended to compliment me, that’s not the way to go about it.”

      “No, but you look cute when you’re piqued.”

      “So you admit to intentionally irritating me?”

      He would admit to no such thing, even it was the truth. “I’d say you look stunning—” which she did “—but you’d probably accuse me of being too forward.”

      The hint of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth, but the irksome woman wouldn’t let it break free. Normally, she was easygoing. “Although I appreciate the thought, I’m unclear as to the reason behind your flattery. Was there something you wanted?”

      Since admitting the sincerity behind his compliment could be telling, he chose to answer her question instead. “You’re standing at the stagecoach stop, and you were smiling when I first saw you. It appears you’re going somewhere and are looking forward to your trip. Am I right?”

      She swept her gaze from his slouch hat to his boots and back again. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. I’m going to visit my brother.”

      “Is he still in Shingle Springs?”

      Her trademark smile burst forth in all its radiant glory. “You remembered.”

      “Of course.”

      “I’m sorry. It’s just that...” She brushed the toe of her boot over a knothole in the walkway, the leather sole rasping over the rough pine.

      “Go on.”

      “I told you where my brother is living when you took me to lunch. That happened six months ago, and since you lef—” She winced, a slight gesture he might have missed, if he hadn’t been so focused on her every movement. “Since I wore your ears out that day, I’m surprised you were able to recall anything I said.”

      He remembered their conversation in detail. They’d started off talking about the lumber business but quickly moved on to more personal topics. They discovered that they’d both lost their parents during childhood.

      Unlike other women, Callie was easy to talk to. She might wear fancy dresses on occasion and carry herself with the bearing befitting a society lady, but she didn’t put on airs.

      “I’m headed to Shingle Springs, too. I have a job down that way. If you don’t mind riding in my wagon, you could go with me.”

      To her credit, she showed no outward sign of surprise at his abrupt change of subject, other than a brief pause. “I’d like that.”

      “Good. It’s parked behind Dr. Wright’s office. I’ve already filled my wagon with lumber, so we can set off right away.” He was tempted to offer Callie his arm, a gentlemanly courtesy he would normally think nothing of, but refrained.

      Although he would enjoy having her hand wrapped around his elbow, he wasn’t in the habit of strolling with a lovely lady. Since he’d asked her to lunch during the last week of September the previous fall, showing a lapse of judgment on his part, she might get the impression he’d taken an interest in her. He would keep things nice and friendly-like this time so there would be no misunderstanding.

      Chip swept an arm toward Coloma Street, opposite the hotel. “Shall we go?”

      They arrived at his wagon minutes later. She accepted his help climbing aboard, rewarding him with a friendly smile and simple thank-you.

      Perhaps his earlier concern was unfounded. She’d been pleasant company that day at the restaurant, but her reaction to seeing him today proved she hadn’t set her cap for him. The reception she’d given him the past July, when he’d taken second place in the horse race at Placerville’s Independence Day celebration, had indicated the same thing. The first-and third-place winners had each received a kiss from the ladies who presented their ribbons. All he’d gotten from Callie was a businesslike handshake.

      The springs of his new buckboard creaked as he climbed aboard. He no longer needed to rent one, thanks to having achieved the first of his two yearly goals, the other being the completion of his kitchen. With the hefty load he was carrying under the tarpaulin today, his recently acquired team of workhorses would earn their oats.

      He took his place on the bench seat, leaving a respectable distance between Callie and him, grabbed the reins and got underway. Her rigid posture and lips pressed firmly together gave him the