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Award Winner!
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When California Dalton arrives at the home of her new employer, she steps across the threshold into utter chaos. Callie's fantasy of tutoring a sweet little girl vanishes as she meets the young woman the citizens of Sundance, Nevada consider insane. Pride keeps Callie from leaving, however, and she builds a unique friendship with her extraordinary pupil. In the process, she gains respect from the people of Sundance...and discovers love with the girl's darkly handsome brother. Marshal Trevor Jacobs disapproves of his sister's tutor from the moment he claps eyes on her. He expected a matronly woman, not a delicate young beauty. She won't be able to handle Bethany's frightening episodes, and her presence will only serve to remind him that he can never marry. If he succumbs to the temptation of a relationship with Callie, it could jeopardize everything. |
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Author of the Year 2003 for SUNDANCE |
SUNDANCE for Best Historical Romance |
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"Sundance takes the reader on a passionate, heartwarming journey to love. The fast-paced plot flows smoothly and keeps you enthralled from beginning to end. Ms. Mills gives her characters plenty of life and vibrancy. Ms. Mills addresses some sensitive issues that are rarely touched upon in books set in this time period, which is refreshing. Western romance lovers are sure to enjoy this delightful tale. I highly recommend Sundance." A Reviewer's Choice Masterpiece -- 4 Flames: A Rare Find -Renee Burnette, Word Museum "This book is so well written, the plot so different, that it's a given it's going to make you feel every emotion while reading. Ms. Mills is quite simply, a fast paced, completely absorbing author. I fell in love with her writing and characters. The story is FANTASTIC! 5 BELLS!" -Donita Lawrence of Bell, Book and Candle "Janet Mills has done a magnificent job with this wonderful romance. Not only did she pay great attention to all the details of the 1800's but her exquisite writing brought all the characters in SUNDANCE to life." 5 Hearts -Angel, Reader Review "SUNDANCE by Janet Mills is definitely a romance that abounds with clever writing, endearing characters and an engaging plot. Ms. Mills possesses a talent that will keep fans of historical romance quickly turning the pages of this novel from Treble Heart Books. Don't miss out on this treasure." 4 stars from BJ Deese at eCataRomance Reviews "Janet Mills has you on an emotional roller-coaster ride until the very end! Ms. Mills creates characters so true to life... Sundance is an awesome story! FIVE ANGELS!" -Cindy, Fallen Angel Reviews "SUNDANCE by Janet Mills... has strong characters that the reader grows to care about. Bethany is such a exceptional character that she almost steals the spotlight. ...The plot holds the interest of the reader." -Mariah, Romance Junkies "This story is a wonderful blend of humor, poignancy, and heartwarming romance. Both characters are well-developed and will clearly live in the reader's memory long after the last page." Four stars! -Defelah Morgan, Scribes World Reviews "Janet Mills used a most profound way in the descriptive interludes between Callie and Trevor... The reader could definitely sense the chemistry there. For those readers seeking a sensuous story mixed with some hardship this one could be recommended." -Rita Porter, Scribe & Quill "Take the phone off the hook, find a comfy place, and prepare yourself to want to remain with Janet Mills' SUNDANCE until the last page is turned." -Cindy Penn of Word Weaving "Ms. Mills writes a stirring love story that warms the heart at the same time it keeps you turning pages. A must for any true romantic, this book will live on your 'keeper' shelf for years to come." -Tammy Wing of Rhapsody Magazine "Callie and Trevor's love story is spicy and packed with emotion. Historical romance readers are sure to love Janet Mills' SUNDANCE." -Kris Krane, Book Nook Reviews "Ms. Mills has shown her talent wonderfully for writing poignantly romantic tales. This is definitely a story worth reading!" -Elena Channing for Escape to Romance Reviews |
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Copyright Janet Mills CHAPTER ONE Sundance, Nevada - Autumn 1892
"Leave me alone!" California Dalton stared at the house where the shrill cry had issued, then turned to her companion. "What in the world?" "That would be Miss Bethany," Ernest Owens supplied. Callie's new acquaintance mounted the porch steps behind her, looking as nervous as a June bug in a henhouse. "She's a bit--" "Spoiled?" "No, no. She must be having--" "A temper tantrum? Well," Callie declared, "we'll soon put a stop to that." She strode to the door and knocked loudly upon it. A plump, gray-haired woman answered. Another ear-splitting wail assaulted their ears and rattled the oval window pane in the wooden door before either woman had a chance for introductions. Anticipation strung Callie's nerves tight. She nodded a greeting to the woman and stepped across the threshold into the house, pausing a moment to tuck a strand of hair back into order beneath her hat. She smoothed the wrinkled skirt of her black woolen suit and prayed she looked like a grieving widow. Taking a fortifying breath, she followed the screams into the parlor. An instant later, the air lodged in Callie's throat as she gaped at the scene before her. An adolescent girl flailed about on the davenport, shrieking maniacally, her skirts and petticoats pooled at mid-thigh. A lamp illuminated the girl's bloodied knee while the rest of the room stood in shadows. An elderly man bent over the girl. She lashed out at him, knocking a handful of bandages from his grasp. "Trevorrr…" she wailed. "Don't let him touch me." "It's all right, Punkin. Doc is only trying to help you." The deep, rumbling voice sounded from somewhere behind the girl. A large hand stroked her hair. Callie couldn't see the man to whom the words or hand belonged. "What in heaven's name is going on here?" Callie demanded. A hush fell over the parlor. The girl stilled, though her chest heaved with each shuddering gulp of air. Her wide-eyed gaze traveled from the doctor to Callie, and she seemed to calm by degrees. The rest of the people in the room breathed a collective sigh. Callie got the impression that the girl had been screaming for a long time. She watched in silent fascination as a dark and formidably handsome man rose from behind the davenport. His body was broad at the shoulders, lean at the hips. He radiated power. "Who are you?" he asked. The man's thick dark eyebrows furrowed in a menacing scowl. Callie's legs quivered like harp strings. "I-I'm California Dalton." "Dammit to hell," he muttered, his expression openly hostile. Offended, she squared her shoulders. Confusion and indignation mingled within Callie and pulsed in her cheeks. She pivoted on the heel of her black high shoes. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, her glance darted between Ernest Owens and the kind-looking woman who'd opened the door. "There must be some mistake," Callie told them. "I answered Marshal Jacobs's advertisement for a tutor, and he invited me here to meet his sister. Perhaps one of you could locate the marshal for me." "You were just speaking to him, dear," the woman said, smiling reassuringly. "I'm Lorna Spencer, and that's Doc Franklin there with Bethany. The poor child fell on a broken cup." Callie closed her eyes a moment, mentally retracing her steps. This was inconceivable. After reading the advertisement in the Sacramento Bee a few weeks ago, she'd pictured a tiny child, not an ill-tempered young woman. She opened her eyes, her troubled gaze returning to the man who couldn't possibly be the same one who'd written her a polite letter, asking her to come to Sundance. Yet, he wore a lawman's badge. It caught the light, its glint mocking her error. Callie forced a brave smile and advanced toward the davenport. "I'm glad to meet you, Miss Jacobs," she said in a gentle tone, praying her words or mannerisms wouldn't send the girl back into a mindless rage. "I thought California was a state," Bethany said, her head tilted in wonder. With golden-blonde hair and pale blue eyes, the girl was quite pretty when she wasn't screaming at the top of her lungs. Callie laughed softly. "It is. I was born there." "Well, that's a funny name for a person." "You're right," Callie agreed. "That's probably why my brothers gave me a nickname when I was a little girl." "My brother gave me a nickname, too. He calls me Punkin. What's yours?" "Callie. Sometimes they call me Callie Jo, short for California Josephine." Bethany put her hand over her mouth and giggled. "I like Callie Jo a whole lot better. Could I call you that?" Callie smiled again, this time from the heart. "Yes, you may. It will remind me of home." "Bethany will not use your given name, Mrs. Dalton," the marshal interjected. "Oh, I don't mind." Callie's gaze flickered toward the man and just as quickly returned to his sister. She felt his disapproving stare on her back. "And you can call me Bethany--or Beth." Patting the cushion beside her, the girl asked, "Callie Jo, would you sit here while Doc Franklin pulls the glass out of my knee?" Out of the corner of her eye, Callie noted how the marshal's jaw slackened in disbelief. She moved to the girl's side, feeling pleased with herself. At least she'd gotten off on the right foot with one member of the Jacobs's family. "Trevor can't stand the sight of blood," Bethany revealed. "Ah, so that's why he was hiding behind the sofa." "I wasn't hiding," the marshal growled. "I was--" "Sometimes he holds my hand, though," the girl went on. "Would you like me to hold your hand, Bethany?" She nodded. "Please, Callie Jo." A short while later, as Callie sat across the kitchen table from Trevor Jacobs, she received an explanation of sorts for the man's behavior, but he offered no apology. "I expected someone considerably older." The marshal's assessing gaze raked over her. Spirals of steam rose from the tea in front of Callie. She placed her fingers around the china cup to warm them. Although the room was bright and cozy, she felt chilled by the man's dark presence. Wavy, coal-black hair fell in feathery layers on his head. He sported a neatly trimmed mustache. His eyes were very blue, reminding Callie of the sky or a cool mountain lake. "Your telegram said you were a mature widow," he added accusingly. "I think I can claim maturity. I was married for six years." "Then you must have been an infant bride." His gaze met hers and she felt an odd jolt. Callie gathered her scattered wits about her like a blanket. "How old are you now?" "Is my age relevant to my employment, Mr. Jacobs?" "Possibly." "I'm twenty-five," she informed him. When he grimaced, she added, "Is there something wrong with that?" He rubbed his temples with one large hand. "Might be." Callie had the urge to toss her tea into the man's face. Wasn't he even going to give her a chance? She'd sold everything she owned to come to Nevada. It was all too easy to recall her long journey by train and stage and how she'd slept in questionable beds infested with God only knew what. She stared at the marshal. He was crazy if he thought she'd get back on a stagecoach and pretend he'd never offered her a job. Ignoring her manners, she told him just that. "Mrs. Dalton." The marshal's tone sounded as ominous as a thundercloud. "We don't use the word 'crazy' in this household. You see, most people believe my sister is insane." Callie's mouth fell open, her show of assertiveness instantly abandoned. She sat still as a statue, dumbstruck, trying to reconcile the man's incredible revelation with the young woman she'd just met. The girl was excitable and perhaps a bit dramatic, but insane? "You didn't mention that in your telegram," she told him. "And you didn't mention you're only twenty-five." "I would like a chance, nonetheless." Callie didn't know what prompted such words to spill out of her mouth. What experience did she have dealing with insanity? She wasn't even a bona fide tutor. But if she headed back to Shasta County, California now, she would be admitting defeat. She'd taken this position to escape the shame and heartache of her failed marriage. She yearned to start a new life, full of adventure. Caring for an insane young woman could certainly count as adventure. "Well, Marshal? Will you give me a try?" The marshal's contemplative expression gave Callie pause. Then he scowled again. "I suppose it's the only fair thing to do." He rose from his seat. She couldn't help but be impressed with his height. "Mrs. Spencer has prepared your room," he continued. "You might want to rest a spell before supper." "My room? Here?" Callie shook her head. "I don't think so, Mr. Jacobs. You said nothing about living in your house. I wish to find lodging elsewhere." "And I must insist you stay here." "The job called for a tutor, not a governess." "Fine," the lawman snapped as he headed for the doorway. "Marshal?" Callie called to his discourteous back. "Aren't you going to advise me on a suitable place?" He turned to her, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. "There's a boarding house about a mile's walk from here. I'm sure Mrs. O'Grady would take you in." "Walk?" Callie repeated. She waited a long moment, then stood when he remained silent. If he insisted on being rude, she would do the same. Muttering an unflattering comment about his lack of social graces, Callie moved toward the door. The marshal caught her arm and swung her around to face him. As her gaze traveled up his wide chest to his damnably dark and handsome face, something wild and impulsive uncoiled inside her. "I'll take you." He released her arm abruptly. Callie hurried to the parlor where Bethany lay serenely on the davenport with her arms wrapped around a small worn doll. "Where are you going, Callie Jo?" She threw a glance down the empty hallway, then back to Bethany. "To the boarding house." "Why? Don't you like us?" "I like you very much, Beth. I just need to have a room of my own." The girl looked confused. "The room Mrs. Spencer and I fixed up for you is very nice. You don't have to share it with anyone." Bethany studied her new tutor. "You're not like the others, are you." The carefully phrased words didn't sound like a question. "The other tutors?" Bethany nodded. "The other tutors stayed here in our house. Sometimes they slept in the extra bedroom and other times they--" The marshal cleared his throat behind Callie, and she spun around. He'd strapped a sinister-looking gun to his hip. "If you're ready, Mrs. Dalton, I'd like to get you over to Mrs. O'Grady's now, before I miss my supper." Callie bid Bethany goodbye and followed the girl's brother out the front door. Night was coming down as Callie sat stiffly on the wagon seat next to the marshal. Conversation was sporadic, the long silences awkward. The quiet grew louder as she peered into the darkness. Valiantly, she ignored the power of Trevor Jacobs's distracting masculinity beside her. She'd been taken in by good looks before, with disastrous results. Attractiveness and bad manners seemed to go hand in hand. The marshal's character had already suffered a great blow in Callie's eyes. His telegram specifically stated someone would meet her when the stagecoach arrived in town, yet she had been left standing in the street amid the horse dung and the mud while her bags sank into the offensive muck. Mr. Owens had offered to take her to the Jacobs's place. He'd appeared more presentable than the other men Callie allowed her glance to flicker briefly upon, and she'd gratefully accepted the ride. Her first glimpse of the small mining town itself had been favorable, regardless of her rocky beginning. Nestled at the eastern foot of the Sierra Nevadas, Sundance possessed an unobstructed view of the breathtaking mountain range. Callie had traveled through high desert country on her journey, but evergreen trees and brightly-colored wildflowers grew in abundance in the fertile valley she would now call home. The marshal pulled up in front of a tall, narrow building, its color indistinct in the dark. Lights shining through the downstairs' windows welcomed them, and Callie scrambled off the wagon seat before Trevor could come around to help her down. He retrieved her luggage from the back of the conveyance and followed her up the steps. A woman with silvering brown hair met them at the door. "Marshal?" she queried. "Is anything wrong?" She divided her questioning look between Trevor and Callie. The marshal removed his gray Stetson. "Evenin', Mrs. O'Grady. This is Beth's new tutor, Mrs. California Dalton. She needs a place to stay." The woman raised her eyebrows in surprise, but smiled kindly and opened her screen door wide. "Come in, please, both of you." The house, warm and redolent of good smells, reminded Callie she hadn't eaten in hours. "I won't be stayin'," Trevor said. He glanced Callie's way. "Will you need a ride in the morning, Mrs. Dalton?" "No, thank you. I'll enjoy the walk in the daytime." "Then I'll expect you at eight." He replaced his hat and strode away with a lawman's air of supreme authority. Trevor lay awake in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, his hands stacked behind his head. His sister slept peacefully in her room down the hall, but so far sleep had eluded him. He remembered how he'd pictured the Widow Dalton when he'd read her telegram. She'd claimed to be childless and well educated. With a name like California, he'd thought, she would have been born during the Gold Rush. She'd be in her forties, at least a dozen years his senior. She'd said she could start work as soon as he wished, and he had promptly wired her the money for the trip. Now, after meeting her, Trevor contemplated the young woman he'd brought to Sundance on good faith. Beneath her shapeless black suit lurked the certainty of a curvaceous figure. He'd never seen black look so good. Her severe hairstyle didn't fool him for a minute either. Let loose, those rich, raven-colored tresses would curl about her shoulders and frame her lovely face. And those violet eyes. Images of sparkling amethyst crowded out all rational thought. He released a long breath and cursed at the ceiling. Women were his undoing, and a beautiful woman was a temptation he had never been able to resist. Thank heaven Bethany's newest tutor had chosen to live elsewhere, although the idea had irritated him at first. He agreed with her only after reminding himself he didn't want nor need another entanglement with a female. Trevor mentally counted the number of tutors who had come and gone in the years since he'd taken over the responsibility for his sister's care. He knew his relationships with the women he hired created prime fodder for the gossips in town, yet those same people would be stunned to know he remembered each and every one of Bethany's tutors. He imagined they would be even more surprised to learn how much he regretted their departures. If Bethany didn't scare them into leaving the first week, the women evacuated Trevor's home when they realized he would never marry nor risk fathering a child. He was filled with a long-seated vengeance and an unhealthy dose of fear. Trevor rose from his bed, walked to the window that faced Sundance, and peered into the clear night. He could see lights burning in Margaret O'Grady's boarding house, even at this late hour. He wondered if one of those lights burned in Callie's rented room. He pictured her lying in bed with her head propped up on a fluffy pillow, her hair down and newly brushed. He'd bet a month's pay it shimmered around her like black silk. "Damnation!" He swore aloud. "California Josephine Dalton, you are not going to get under my skin." |