The waiter approached. “How was your supper, sir? Was the steak to your liking?” His gaze meandered to Dustin’s empty plate.
“Very good, thank you.”
“Will there be anything else? Coffee? Dessert? Whiskey?”
“No, thanks,” Dustin said, suddenly feeling tired—and a bit too old.
One more day, and they could start home. He’d be glad to be back on Rim Rock land, but what would his days be like watching over the hothead Noah Calhoun? Pa wouldn’t like that one bit.
He pulled money from his clip, enough for his meal and a tip, and exited the Longhorn.
The balmy temperature made the air feel heavy. He walked leisurely down the street, wondering where Chaim and Emmeline had dined, wondered if they’d finished and were perhaps taking a stroll hand in hand to extend their last few moments together.
Dustin had said his good-byes earlier before they’d gone for supper, knowing they’d want to be alone tonight and tomorrow. Love was a fickle lady, to be sure. She had a way of ripping out your heart, even when you didn’t have anyone to love.
Entering the almost empty hotel lobby, Dustin removed his hat. He glanced at the number five slot as he passed by the counter, curious to see if Miss Calhoun had gotten his message.
“I gave her your note as soon as she walked in the front door.”
Dustin had hoped to get away unseen. He turned to find Jim standing in the office doorway. Discussing why the young woman had not accepted his invitation was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Taking the stairs, he passed by Emmeline’s room and then Chaim’s, contemplating the anxiety his brother would be shouldering come nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Good thing they had plenty to keep them busy the rest of the day, with an early departure the next.
Good thing, indeed.
Early the next morning, Chaim knocked quietly on Emmeline’s hotel room door and waited, his stomach knotted as tight as his heeling rope cinched down on some poor calf’s hooves. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes until eight. The day and hour had arrived.
The door opened, and Emmeline greeted him with a wobbly smile. Like always, her dark hair was perfectly styled and her dress immaculate. She’d never looked more beautiful. A pain sliced his heart.
She searched his eyes. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you,” he replied, leaning forward to gently kiss her lips. “Did you sleep?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Not really.” Her lips trembled and she glanced away. “I tossed and turned all night,” she whispered as she stepped forward.
He closed his arms around her.
He kissed her then, a real kiss, a kiss that would tell her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck so she couldn’t see his tortured eyes, and took in her light lavender scent.
“Don’t go.”
She leaned back and ran her hands up his chest. “I have to. Please try to understand.”
Even though they’d talked the subject into the ground, he said, “For your father.”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Three doors down, a man stepped out into the hall, and Chaim and Emmeline moved apart.
The fellow hardly glanced their way before proceeding down the passageway and was gone.
Emmeline straightened her skirt and looked back through the open door.
“We better get moving,” Chaim said. An elephant-sized dose of regret sat on his chest.
He stepped into her room and hoisted her travel trunk into his arms, and she gathered her train case and cape. In the hallway, he followed her until they arrived at the stairway, where she let him go down first.
They stopped at the hotel counter.
“Good morning, Mr. McCutcheon,” the attendant said. “Miss Jordan, did you want that taken to the station?”
Chaim nodded and withdrew a few coins from his pocket. “Yes.”
The fellow smiled and glanced at Emmeline. “You have a safe trip home, Miss Jordan. It’s been our pleasure to serve you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wainscot. I certainly will.”
The short little man with the balding head beamed, charmed by his fiancée’s smile and attention, which wasn’t surprising. She had a way of rendering most men speechless.
“I’ll be looking for your return.”
She smiled and nodded.
A short time later, his fiancée looked like a dark-haired angel standing next to the waiting train. Her cape elegantly draped her slender shoulders as people scurried past to get aboard and settled for the nine o’clock departure. Every few moments, steam hissed from under the steel wheels, making Chaim want to scoop her into his arms and carry her away, rendering the parting impossible.
He memorized the way she looked, how her gaze lovingly touched his.
“You know your transfer in Concepción, then,” he asked gruffly, knowing he’d asked her the same exact thing last night. “I want you to be careful. Don’t talk to any strangers.”
Emmeline lifted her hand and placed her palm gently on his cheek. “My dearest Chaim, I know exactly how to do this. I came out from Boston by myself, remember? I’ll be fine. And if I do get mixed up, all I need is this.”
She pulled a paper from the pocket of her cape. “I have everything right here, thanks to you.” He’d written out her schedule and how to make the changes.
Her smile lit her face. That she almost seemed excited to board the eastbound train hurt.
“But I won’t stop worrying over you, Chaim. You’re breaking my heart with all your sad puppy-dog looks.”
In her usual fashion, Emmeline was talking silly to try to cheer him up, but it didn’t matter. Nothing could make him feel better at a time like this.
He didn’t reply, but wrapped her in his arms again and breathed deeply, holding back his rumbling emotions.
“I love you, Emmeline,” he said. “I love you with all my heart. I’ll be thinking of you every moment until your return.”
He felt her shiver. Leaning back and not caring who saw, he captured her lips at the same time the whistle sounded from the great steam engine. They didn’t have much time. The kiss was long and passionate. Her touch was painfully teasing as she fingered the hair on the back of his neck. Her lips, warm and sweet, had the power to drive every thought from his head. He wanted to beg her not to go—but he wouldn’t.
With an anguished cry, she gripped his shoulders tightly as if she’d never let him go.
“Oh, Chaim. I do love you too. I love you so much I feel as if my heart has been hacked from my chest with a dull knife. I’ll never be the same.”
She pulled back and gazed into his eyes. So much passed between them in that instant, the significance was difficult to discern.
“Time to board if you’re coming with us, young lady,” the middle-aged porter said, standing behind them. Everyone else who had been on the train platform earlier was now boarded.
“This is it, Emmeline. Have a good trip, say hello to your parents, and tell them I’m looking forward to meeting them.”
She smiled up into his face. “I will, my love. I will.”
He helped her up the steps, her hand held firmly in his. When she pulled away and glanced down the aisle inside the train car, Emmeline’s smile brightened.
Chaim stilled, a stone landing in his gut. Her words suddenly felt hollow. Why did she say she’d never be the same? Was this the last time he’d ever see Emmeline Jordan?
Chapter Eight
Dustin and Chaim sat their horses as Noah Calhoun was led from the San Antonio jailhouse, escorted by a potbellied old deputy holding a black Stetson. The man handed Noah his hat.
Sidney’s brother, whose rumpled clothes and stubble-covered jaw made him appear quite disreputable, lacked any type of weapon. For that, Dustin was grateful. He didn’t know what kind of man Noah was, and he didn’t aim to find out by getting shot in the back.
The deputy instructed Noah to wait a moment, and went back into the building.
The ride back would be long and hot, but they’d arrive in Rio Wells by evening. He hoped Miss Calhoun and Noah would keep pace.
Noah sent him a disdainful look and then walked over to his sister where she stood with two mounts, saddled and laden with two heavy packs. Seemed she’d hit about every store in San Antonio yesterday. She had a Winchester in her scabbard and a six-shooter on her hip. A medium-sized shaggy brown dog sat at her heels.
“This should be interesting,” he said under his breath to Chaim.
Since returning from the train station, Chaim had been quiet, keeping pretty much to himself—exactly like Dustin had expected.
Chaim glanced at him. “I don’t like it. Pa will hit the roof. You know what he thinks of Jock Calhoun and his ludicrous claim. This will rile him good.”
“Well, he’ll have to accept him, because we don’t have a choice. I don’t like being responsible for this ruffian one little bit.”
Chaim chuckled, the first sound of humor Dustin had heard from his brother in days.
“I’d hardly call Noah a ruffian,” Chaim replied. “He looks pretty harmless to me.”
“Don’t let him fool you.”
Dustin tried not to look at Sidney dressed in pants, shirt, vest, and Stetson. She wore the clothes easily, and by the way she moved, he presumed that was more her normal attire than the frilly dress she wore for her performance in the courtroom. The thick ponytail that reached the middle of her back reminded him of butterscotch candy.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said. “Noah’s not staying in the house. The bunkhouse will be plenty good enough. That way, we won’t have to see him past working hours.”
Chaim tilted his head. “What about her?”
“I haven’t the faintest clue what she’s planning. I was assigned Noah, not his sister.”
The deputy sheriff returned and handed a slip of paper to Noah, and then strode over to Dustin and Chaim with another.
Dustin extended a hand. “What’s this?”
“Paperwork on what’s expected.”
Dustin glanced down at three chicken-scratched lines. “I’m to keep Judge Halford informed. Keep Calhoun under control. Make sure he earns enough to pay off the saloon keeper, plus a fifty-dollar fine.”
He refrained from smirking, keeping in mind the new leaf he was working on. “Not asking for the moon, are you?” He struggled to keep the contempt out of his voice. “I’d think foisting Calhoun off on me would be unconstitutional. I’m a private citizen, and don’t hold any type of law office. I don’t wear a badge. I have work to do, and he’ll hinder my every move.”
“Don’t matter a whit,” the deputy said. “If you’re ordered by Judge Halford ta babysit for a few days, weeks, months, or years . . . you’ll babysit.” His lips flattened. “That’s just the way things are around here.”
That last statement gave Dustin pause. Back in Rio Wells, Pete Miller had been promoted to acting sheriff after Sheriff Dane was murdered. The town was shorthanded until the position could be filled by a lawman who wanted it, so Dustin wouldn’t find help there.
Dustin folded the note and put the directive in his front pocket. “Mount up,” he called to the Calhouns. “Time to hit the trail.”
The two did, but stayed where they sat.
They aren’t going to make this easy.
Dustin swallowed a curse and closed the twenty feet between them to where Sidney and Noah sat their horses.
“We don’t like this any more than you do,” he said, “I can promise you that. But that doesn’t mean we have to make the experience worse. Let’s get to Rio Wells, then get the ordeal behind us.” He looked between brother and sister, noting the resemblance in their eyes. “Is that asking too much?”
When neither of the Calhouns responded, he exchanged a look with Chaim, who’d followed, and then turned his attention back to Sidney and Noah. The early November sun felt ten degrees hotter than a moment before.
“Fine,” he finally said. “I can see why my old man calls yours stubborn-headed. I guess I can’t blame him. You two are mulish, bad-tempered, and—”
When Noah spurred his horse forward, presumably going for Dustin, Chaim caught Noah’s horse’s bridle and pulled him around.
“We’ll have none of that,” he barked into Noah’s face, and then shot an angry look at Dustin as well. “The ride is hard, and we’re only stopping once to rest and water the horses. Keep this up, and you won’t have the energy to cross the badlands. You’ll ride behind, but don’t think you can make a run for it. With only Miss Calhoun’s weapons, you’d be easy targets for the Comancheros. The local bands know the McCutcheons and pretty much leave us alone. Stay close.”
Dustin turned his attention to Sidney and motioned to her guns. “Can I trust you with those? You won’t try to bust him out of my guard?”
She pinned him with an icy stare but didn’t respond.
“Guess that means yes. Can we trust him?”
“Of course you can. Calhouns aren’t murderers,” she replied, clenching her jaw. “If you get killed, it won’t be by us.”
The dog sitting at her horse’s hooves growled and bared his fangs.
“Charming,” Dustin said, turning his horse toward the way that led to Rio Wells. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Nine
By noon, Sidney was more than ready for a break, preferably in the shade if they could find any.
The Calhoun ranch was situated in the hills of Santa Fe. She was used to cool breezes that brought new life and energy. Each evening, temperatures dropped after the sun set. Too bad Rio Wells was so much farther south. She missed the tall white fur and blue spruce, and the shorter silver sage and chokecherry that made Santa Fe beautiful. West Texas was stark, brown, and hot. The sea of granite rocks before her made her wonder how the McCutcheon cattle subsisted at all.
Still at a ground-covering jog that would save their mounts’ energy, she leaned forward in her stirrups, giving her back a rest. She’d stopped several miles back and hefted Jackson onto her horse in front of her saddle. He was her working dog, but rarely was he required to run all day. She’d brought him along, thinking he’d be company on the train and in her hotel room, and that she’d be back in Santa Fe in no time. Now she wished she’d left him at home.
Sidney removed her hat, ran her already dirty shirtsleeve over her forehead, and tried to wet her lips with her tongue, all the while standing in her stirrups at the trot. Her mouth felt as sandy as the ground below. Her lips chapped. She screwed her Stetson tightly back on, thankful for the relief from the unrelenting sun directly overhead. The scent of the warm leather hatband drenched in sweat reached her. The hat was worth every penny of the ten dollars the San Antonio merchant had charged, robbery or not.
Her attention, riveted to the back of Dustin McCutcheon, felt as hot as the sun in the cloudless sky. She’d gotten his note last night, only a few minutes after he’d left the hotel, according to the clerk. What nerve. Did the man think she’d just roll over because Noah was in his charge for the next few weeks? He’d wanted to talk about her brother’s rehabilitation? Ha! More like he wanted to rub their bad fortune in her face.
She stiffened, thinking about his casual words. She’d as soon dine with him—or any other McCutcheon—as with a six-foot-long rattlesnake.
Heat waves in the distance wiggled toward the sky. Far off, a building came into view. Maybe that was where they planned to stop. Directly in front of her, Dustin’s broad back brought to mind the time she’d seen him in Kansas City all those years ago.
She’d thought him handsome, but that was before she understood how dirty his father had played with her pa. If not for Winston McCutcheon, her father wouldn’t be the crippled man he was today. Yes, they’d lost the contract, but that didn’t bother her as much as the way her father’s so-called friend had double-crossed him.
When Dustin gl
anced back, she jerked her gaze toward the arroyo filled with rocks, one lonely tree, and the bleached rib cage of a large animal. From the corner of her eye, she could see the brothers had reined down to a walk. Soon she and Noah were by their sides.
Dustin gestured at the building up ahead. “We’ll unsaddle and give the horses a breather for about an hour. Refill your canteens and eat what you brought,” he directed, glancing at her saddlebags. “By the time we reach Rio Wells, we’ll be greeting the evening, and we won’t be stopping again.”
At this closer range, she could now make out a corral around back, a small lean-to barn, and a windmill.
Dustin and his brother drew their guns and split up as they approached the shack. Dustin rode wide and when he was close, he dismounted and advanced on the windowless building.
Chaim sat his horse with his weapon trained on the door.
With his back to the wall, Dustin eased along the front of the building, then nudged open the door with the toe of his boot. Several seconds passed before he crouched down to look inside.
Intrigued, she realized that if someone were waiting to shoot him, they’d have their gun aimed at about five feet high.
Turning, he waved them over.
“You pack any food?” Noah asked as they slowly rode toward the man who was in control of Noah’s life.
“Meat, bread, jerky, and a few other things.”
Noah smiled his thanks, but she could see his uncertainty. Sweat ringed his arms. He glanced at her with his uncommonly light blue eyes that always reminded her of ice on a lake. He uncapped his canteen and chugged down water before dismounting.
Sidney couldn’t help but worry over his impulsiveness. Despite being his sister and not his mother, she’d raised him and loved him almost like a son. She didn’t want to see him come to a bad end.
At the corral fence, Sidney did her best to ignore the brothers to her left. Leaning over, she carefully dropped Jackson to the ground and dismounted, feeling hot and sticky. Her back muscles ached. The dog trotted off into the rock outcropping behind the small settlement and disappeared.
Texas Lonesome Page 6
