Caving into You (Love in the Old West series Book 1)

by Bess McBride

  “Bye now, Miss Creighton,” George said.

  “I’ll settle up with you later, George. I don’t have any cash on me at the moment.”

  “That’ll be fine, Clint. You know where to find me.”

  Hilly turned to say goodbye in a hoarse voice.

  “Thank you, George.”

  “Nice meetin’ ya, Miss Creighton.” George raised his whip in farewell and edged the wagon past a buggy and out into the road.

  Hilly stood in the street helplessly, staring with wide eyes.

  “Hilly, come, I have to get you inside. Your jeans are going to be a problem.” Clint took her by the arm and unceremoniously pulled her inside the hotel. He hoped it would be quiet given the time of day, and it was. Only one well-dressed gentleman in a dark suit sat on a red velvet couch in the lobby reading a newspaper.

  “Why don’t you have a sit here, Miss Creighton?” Clint said. He maneuvered her to a comfortable-looking chair near a reading table furthest from the man. “I’ll get you checked in.” He settled her onto the chair, surprised that she seemed so compliant. Maybe not. She looked as lost as she probably felt.

  He gave her a last worried look and moved toward the desk.

  Sally Carlson stood behind the counter, watching him with crossed arms and a raised disapproving eyebrow.

  “Well, Clint, what have we here?” she asked in a deep husky voice. Still a good-looking woman with blonde hair and a trim figure, Sally, a widow, had been running the Palace Hotel for about two years since she moved out from San Diego with her daughter.

  Clint forced himself to eye her steadily. Sally hadn’t been bashful about pushing her daughter, Emily, in Clint’s direction whenever she happened to see him on the streets of Tombstone, but Clint hadn’t been interested—either in Emily or her mother. Sally had also let it be known that she was in the market for a new husband herself and didn’t half mind a younger one.

  Clint would have taken Hilly to another hotel if there had been one suitable for her—a hotel that didn’t cater to miners, ranch hands, and cowboys. He had only briefly thought about taking her to his place—little more than a shack out back of the Palace Hotel that he rented from Sally, but he couldn’t put Hilly in that situation. It wouldn’t have been proper. Besides, he spent more time at the mine than he did at his place.

  “Morning, Sally,” Clint said, eyeing her steadily. He had no idea how many days had passed since he’d disappeared.

  “This is Miss Hilly Creighton, from back East. She needs a room.”

  Sally dropped one eyebrow and lifted the other. She re-crossed her arms with a dark look in Hilly’s direction.

  “We don’t cater to paramours here, Clint. You should know that.”

  “She’s not my ‘paramour,’ Sally, and I’ll ask you to speak respectfully. She’s a friend of the family, just passing through on her way to San Francisco. Her...coach was held up, and all her luggage was stolen.”

  Sally’s face reddened at his rebuke.

  “This is my place, Clint. I talk how I want.” She shook her head.

  Clint looked over his shoulder toward Hilly who hadn’t moved but continued staring straight ahead as if in a trance. He hoped she couldn’t hear the conversation.

  “So, you’re saying no?”

  Sally nodded. “Yup, I don’t have any room.” She drew her brows together. “And by the way, since you haven’t paid rent for the last six months, I gave the place out back to another fellow.”

  “Dang it, Sally! I couldn’t help it. What did you do with my stuff?”

  “It’s sitting in the shed out back. You can have it back when you pay me for the month you owe me.”

  Clint shook his head. “I don’t have any money on me, Sally, not right now.”

  “Well, you’d better get back to mining then. See if you can ‘strike it rich,’” she said mockingly. “Sorry I can’t help. Besides, if you don’t have the money to pay for your back rent, how were you going to pay for your...lady friend there?”

  “I would have found the money, Sally. Will you reconsider? You know you have the nicest place in town for ladies.”

  “Well, if you had one, I might, but I don’t see anything very ladylike about her.” Sally jerked her head in Hilly’s direction, and although her words were mean-spirited, Clint knew what she meant. Hilly’s jeans were unusual and way too tight and scandalous for 1881 Tombstone.

  Clint thought about tossing out a few insults to Sally himself, but he bit his tongue and turned away without a word. He returned to Hilly and pulled her from the seat.

  “Come on, we’ll go somewhere else.”

  “Oh,” Hilly murmured in a daze. “Okay.” She allowed him to lead her out of the hotel. Clint’s mind worked feverishly trying to figure out what to do. He wasn’t worried about himself. He could pitch a tent out at the mine, but Hilly couldn’t live like that. She couldn’t possibly endure the cold desert nights. The town would soon fine out she was living with him, and he couldn’t bear the rumors and tittle-tattle that would follow. She deserved better.

  Several passersby ran their eyes up and down Hilly, and Clint nodded affably though he gritted his teeth.

  “I have to get you off the street,” Clint muttered. He scanned the road. Most of the other hotels had saloons and were just too wild for Hilly to stay at, even if he could convince the owner to put her up without cash. They wouldn’t be safe.

  The Chinese section. He hooked Hilly’s arm in his, and maneuvered her down the sidewalk and around the side of the hotel.

  “Where are we going?” Hilly asked. Clint looked down at her, thankful that a sign of life had finally appeared in her blue eyes.

  “I’m taking you to the Chinese section. Maybe I can find a room for you there.”

  He led her further from the center of town and toward the laundries and shops housing the Chinese. He had seen one rooming house there before, and he knocked on the door. An older Chinese woman in dark robes opened the door and peered out.

  “What you want?” she asked.

  “I need a place for my friend to stay,” Clint said.

  The woman, plump with silvering hair, shook her head.

  “No, no stay here.” She moved to shut the door.

  “Please wait,” Clint said. “This is a rooming house, isn’t it?”

  “For Chinese men only. No white woman.”

  Clint sighed and let her shut the door. He turned to Hilly.

  “Well, you can’t stay there if there are no other women.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to stay there anyway,” Hilly said, sounding a bit more like herself. She was a fascinating mix of spunky and demure, and he never knew which one was going to surface.

  He indicated a wooden bench nestled against the front porch of the building, and they took a seat.

  “I have to find someplace for you, Hilly. You may have heard but I lost my place—just a pile of wood nailed together anyway—and Sally rented it to someone else. She’s holding my things for ransom until I pay her for some of the back rent.”

  “I wish I’d had money stuffed in my pockets when we...traveled? Is that what you call it?”

  Clint shrugged helplessly and nodded. “I don’t know what else to call it. Your money would not have been any good here in 1881. The dates would have been wrong.” He looked up and down the street. A few Chinese men with long pigtails moved about, but he wasn’t worried about what they might say. Many of them didn’t speak English, and most kept to themselves.

  “There are still a few other places I can try,” Clint said. “I’ll probably head back to the mine and pitch a tent. Won’t be the first time I’ve done it.”

  “Well, I’m going with you,” Hilly said. “I’m not staying here without you.”

  Clint shook his head. He had half-expected Hilly to say that.

  “No, you’re not. That’s no place for you. It’s freezing at night and hot in the day. There are rattlesnakes and scorpions out there.”

  Hilly’s
chin firmed, and Clint swallowed hard. Different century, but he still had a hard time denying her.

  “No,” he said.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Wait! Hear me out,” Hilly said when he protested. “If there’s any chance of me returning, it will be at the mine, so that’s where I need to be.”

  “Do you think you can just return any time you want? I tried it lots of times over the past six months, returning to the mine and wishing my way back.” He scanned the street. “Although I don’t know why I wished my way back. I really liked the air conditioner in my trailer. The trailer park was right over there.” He pointed to a set of buildings nearby.

  “It does look different, doesn’t it?” Hilly murmured.

  “And things are different. Your jeans are already causing some shocked looks in town. That’s why I hurried us off the main street.”

  “Well, I’m not going to wear skirts,” Hilly said. “Not if I’m tent camping.”

  “You will not be ‘tent camping,’ ” Clint responded firmly. “I should have spent more time in town getting to know people. I sure could use a kindly old lady right about now to take you under her wing—dress you and put you up.”

  “Clint! You’re not responsible for me, you know. I’m not some doll you can move around whenever you want. I can actually take care of myself!”

  Clint looked down at her stubborn chin. Her eyes wavered from his. She was scared, and she couldn’t hide it. But she was right. He was riding roughshod over her without asking her what she wanted to do, and he had no right to do that.

  “Besides, it seems like you do know some people in town. What’s up with the hotel lady?”

  “Sally?” Clint stalled.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, she has a daughter that she’s looking to marry off. Actually, she’s looking for a husband herself.”

  He felt rather than saw Hilly’s head jerk around to stare at him.

  “Oh, really?” she said in a dry voice. “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And what’s the rest of the story?”

  He heard the exasperation in her voice.

  “Nothing. Neither one of them interests me.”

  “Oh!” she said.

  “I think that’s why she would not let you stay there. She’s mad.”

  “I heard what she said. She called me your ‘paramour.’”

  “I am sorry about that. Another reason you can’t stay out at the mine with me.”

  “Are you worried about your reputation, Clint?”

  Clint’s lips twitched. “No, not mine.”

  “Well, don’t worry about mine,” Hilly said. “Maybe you should have introduced me as your sister.”

  “Nobody would have believed that,” Clint said. “Not the way I look at you.”

  He turned then and looked at Hilly, knowing his face gave away how much he loved her. It was his fault she had been brought back in time. His love had dragged her back. Was the only way to send her home to stop loving her?

  He couldn’t do it.

  Hilly’s face reddened, and he shook his head.

  “That was kind of forward,” he said with a faint smile.

  “Not to me,” she whispered.

  Clint wanted to lean in and kiss her, but he held back. This was not the time. They had things to resolve.

  “Take me back to the mine,” Hilly said. “Or wherever you go. Don’t leave me here.”

  Clint sighed. He couldn’t resist her plea. And maybe she was right. If the cave was how they traveled in time, then it was best they return to the mine.

  “All right! I’m going to hate myself for this because I really think you are going to be miserable out there, but I’ll take you with me. I gotta see if I can find my horse, a couple of mules, a wagon, a tent and some supplies...on credit.” He looked down at her lean legs, something he tried to avoid doing like some lecher. “And we need some clothes for you.”

  “No skirts,” Hilly said.

  “I’ve seen only two women wearing trousers in 1881, Hilly, and both were pretty odd. Sisters, working a claim of their own.”

  “Odd it is then!” Hilly grinned.

  “We’d better hurry if we’re going to get back to the mine before dark,” Clint said. He rose and held out a hand to her.

  “Hilly, promise me you won’t try to go into the cave when we get back. It will be close to sunset when we get back. I know you probably want to try to return to your own time as soon as you can, but you can’t do it tonight.”

  Hilly met his eyes with an unreadable expression. A pulse ticked rapidly at her throat. Her hand twitched.

  “I won’t try to get back to my time tonight. Okay? Besides, I’m not sure I can without your help.”

  “Good!” Clint said, relieved. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  Over the next hour, he surprised even himself by managing to procure a wagon, two mules, some canvas material for a tent, supplies, food, water, and his horse, Joe—all on credit backed by his mine. John and Nan Dorn who ran the Tombstone Stable and Mercantile were kind people who had taken care of Joe. They had asked no questions.

  “You didn’t sign over the rights to your mine, did you?” Hilly asked.

  Clint shook his head and petted Joe’s sleek brown neck.

  “No, no, but I did promise John Dorn a large reward if and when the mine pays off.”

  “Oh! You’re going to keep working the mine?”

  Clint nodded. “Whether we can get you back to your own time or not, I gotta work the mine. I owe everyone in town now, and besides...” Clint pressed his lips together.

  “Besides what?”

  “I’m no good to anyone till I have a few nickels to rub together. I can’t—” He stopped abruptly, unwilling to form the words. He couldn’t offer her anything.

  “Can’t what, Clint?” Hilly took his hand and looked up at him. His heart rolled over.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s go get you something to wear. Not that I don’t like your jeans, but John Dorn’s eyes just about popped out of his head when he saw them, and Nan pursed her lips...in that kindly way she has.”

  “What about your jeans, Clint? Those are pretty snug.”

  “Yeah, I’ve gotta outfit myself as well. We’re going to need a couple of coats. You need a hat. I could not bear to see your pretty skin burnt by the sun.”

  Hilly blushed, and Clint smiled.

  He managed to get the rest of the goods they needed, and they set off in the wagon with Joe tied to the back. They made it back to the mine in good time, arriving about an hour before sunset. The temperature was already dropping, and he was worried about Hilly. She looked exhausted. John Dorn’s wife had made up a couple of sandwiches, and although he had eaten his on the way back to the mine, Hilly had only picked at the bread of hers.

  Clint drove up the switchback trail he’d dug out with mules when he’d first started working the mine.

  “I didn’t realize this trail was here,” Hilly said. “I just rolled on down the hill.”

  “It’s the only way to get the wagon up.”

  He pulled the mules to a stop at a spot he had leveled not far from the cave entrance.

  “There won’t be any time to set up the tent before dark. We’ll have to sleep in the bed of the wagon.” Clint grimaced. “I know it’s not proper since we’re not married, but I think it would better if I stuck close to you.”

  Hilly smiled wanly. “I think it would be better too. What can I do to help?”

  “You just stay there. I’m going to tie the mules and Joe up, give them some of that hay I bought, and unload a few things to make room in the wagon.”

  Hilly climbed down. “No, I’ll help. Is that a campfire ring over there?”

  Clint nodded. “Yup. How are you with starting a campfire? I could use some coffee. I’ll get the firewood out of the back of the wagon.”

  “I can try,” Hilly said.

  Clint dropped the firewood by the ring of
rocks and returned to the wagon to unload some of the supplies. He looked over his shoulder to see Hilly placing the logs on top of one another in a crisscross fashion, and he bit back a chuckle.

  “I’ll do that, Hilly,” he said. Hilly looked over her shoulder with a sheepish look on her face.

  “I’m not doing it right, am I? Don’t I need kindling or something? Should it be in a tower?”

  Clint smiled. “Don’t worry about that. We can do that a little bit later.”

  Hilly stood and put her hands on her hips. “Well, what else can I do? I can help unload.”

  Clint shook his head. “No, I’ll do it. This stuff is too heavy.”

  “Clint! I have to do something. I may be a modern girl, but surely there’s something I’m good for here in 1881.”

  Clint paused and looked over his shoulder. Her face set in stubborn lines. What could she do? Most of the light stuff had been unloaded.

  “How about getting dinner ready? I’ve got some cornmeal, water, oil and that nice frying pan. You could make up some fried mush.”

  “Fried mush?” Hilly asked. “Is that like polenta?”

  Clint hesitated, remembering his previous conversation with her regarding cooking. She really belonged in a proper hotel and not out here in the desert.

  “I don’t know what that is, but fried mush is easy to make, a staple. I’ll show you how when I have finished unloading the wagon.”

  “Well, since there’s nothing else I can do apparently, I’m going to go look inside the cave.”

  “No!” Clint barked.

  Hilly, who had turned for the cave, paused and looked over her shoulder.

  “Why not? I promised I wasn’t going to try to travel in time tonight!”

  “It’s not safe. I don’t want you in there!” Almost more terrified that she would disappear in time than for her safety, he strode toward her. Without thinking, Clint pulled her into a tight embrace.

  Chapter Eight

  Hilly found her face buried against his chest. Clint’s heart pounded, and she leaned back to look at his face. His chin was firm, a muscle worked in his jaw. He lowered his head to meet her eyes.