Between Love and Lies

by Jacqui Nelson

  When he opened his eyes, his gaze found the nearest trunk: lid raised, contents hanging out, more scattered on the floor. The rest of the room was in a similar state. She hadn’t been fleeing; she’d been searching for something. What?

  He shoved his revolver back in its holster, so he could use both hands to brush back her hair and turn her face to his. No answers lay there.

  “You can’t go on like this. You’re going to kill yourself.”

  Her skin was hot against his palms. A wave of anxiety rolled his gut into a knot. Not just hot. She was burning up. He had to lower her temperature. Fast.

  Scooping her into his arms, he stood in the middle of the room. Where could he take her? Not the Star. Never there again. This time Madam Garrett’s anger would burn as hot as the woman in his arms. He couldn’t take her to the doctor or even Bat across the street. The second he stepped out onto Front Street too many eyes could be watching.

  He’d promised to keep her safe. He couldn’t expose her to the storm brewing in the Star or the one raging outside. The rain continued to pummel the roof. It’d pour down the walls and turn the surrounding mud into a lake of ice-cold molasses.

  A cold Sadie needed.

  Outside the rear door, a barrel collected water from the roof. When he reached it, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Then he plunged her in up to her neck. She writhed in his grip, struggling to get out. He made sure she didn’t. That didn’t stop her from trying. The suffering contorting on her face stabbed his heart. Luckily her eyes remained closed. He wouldn’t have had the strength to withstand the hurt in them.

  Only when her fever receded did he give in. Under the overhang of the roof, with his back sheltering her from the storm, he cradled her in his arms and prayed again. Unsuccessfully.

  The heat under her skin returned.

  She’d have to go back in the water. Probably many times. Each time she came out it’d be best if she were dried and made comfortable enough to rest.

  Her dress had to come off. He carried her inside and laid her on his bed. Then he went back for the barrel and wrestled it inside.

  Undressing a woman while keeping his gaze on her face was slow work. He refused to look elsewhere. Last night, he’d seen her as close to naked as person could get. He’d be damned if while she was sick and unconscious he looked at anything below her chin.

  His fingers fumbled with the top button near her collarbone. He didn’t grow any steadier as he finished the job. He rung out the garment, spread it on a trunk to dry, and froze with his fingertips hovering over the fabric.

  The checked pattern of blue gingham had faded. That didn’t matter. He’d never forget this dress, or the day he first saw it. Sadie had been wearing it when his herd demolished her farm. He’d come back searching for the girl in this dress. The confounding creature who’d snared him with her grit and then humbled him with her tears.

  The weight of that day, packed with regrets, bowed his head. He swayed forward. The dress’ warmth stopped him. Heated by Sadie’s fever, it yanked him back to the present. Danger circled her again, closing in. He couldn’t let her die.

  “Noah.” The raspy murmur spun him around to find Sadie’s eyes open. “I’m sorry I broke into your jail and—” She glanced at the room before she met his gaze again. “Made a mess of things.”

  “Your presence is an improvement.” His fingers found her cheek, wanting to reassure her, to soothe her worry.

  She turned her head away. “I won’t get you in trouble. I must leave.”

  His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his voice even. “I can’t let you go. I have to put you back in the water barrel.”

  With wide eyes, she faced him again. “Don’t you mean the bathtub? Are we going back to the Star after all?”

  “No, you’re staying here and…you’ve already been in the water once but you need to go in again.”

  Her eyes flared even wider. Whatever was in them wasn’t fear or even worry. “To do that wouldn’t I have to undress first?”

  His gaze disobeyed and swept down her body. The linen of her shift clung to every swell and valley. He glanced up in time to see her gaze go where his had been a moment before.

  “Oh,” she said in a hushed voice.

  He held his breath, dreading what she’d say next.

  “Aren’t we going to take off my under-clothes as well?”

  He bit back his groan. The thin garment didn’t need to come off and continuing this particular discussion wouldn’t help lower her fever. “We’ll put you in as you are.” He leaned down to gather her in his arms. “I’m sorry. It must be done.”

  “Noah, stop.” Her hands captured his face.

  Her gentle grasp held him immobile, every part of him except for his fingers clenching the mattress on either side of her. “Your illness has worsened. We need to—”

  “Stop.” She pressed her forehead against his lips. “Stop trying to save me. It’ll be your downfall. What can I say to make you listen?” She slumped back against the bed and her gaze slid over his face, drifting, slipping back toward oblivion…but her hold on him remained tenacious. “You think I’m ill, but it’s merely a temporary weakness that came with the medicine.”

  He fought not to rip holes in the mattress. “I knew it wasn’t helping. You won’t swallow another drop.”

  “Listen to me. It’s not that simple.”

  “It is. The most important thing is that you get better, which is why you have to stay and go back in the water.”

  “Everyone assumed I’d become sick. Foolish to correct them. An easy lie.” She released him and covered her face with her hands. “The rest was harder.”

  “Sadie—”

  Her fingers curled into fists over her eyes. “Why won’t you listen?”

  He was trying to, but his worry made it difficult. She was trying as well—trying to tell him the truth. He couldn’t understand any of it. And if he didn’t, he’d lose her. The increasing likelihood of that outcome left him short of breath and courage. “There’s no reason worth taking that blue swill.”

  “Not in your world.” Her laugh came out sad and tired. “But in mine? If I wanted to thwart Gertie, I couldn’t waste any gift, even if it had a sharp edge.”

  “Too sharp,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Not at first. In the beginning, the medicine promised protection along with Edward’s other gifts.”

  An uncontrollable anger flared in his chest. “Tell me what your friend ever gave you beside illness?”

  “He taught me to play cards, when to gamble, and how to lie when all else fails. It didn’t surprise me that his final gift would be a lie.” Her voice faded like the dying wind, sighing around the rafters. “The shock is how painful it’s been to hold the truth.”

  What did you promise him, Sadie? Why can’t I earn the trust you gave him so freely? Why can’t you love me as well? “Tell me the truth.”

  “I have. But you aren’t listening.” She released a ragged sigh. “You can’t hear me. Can you?” Her hands fell onto the bed, limp with defeat. Her eyes remained closed. “You can’t hear me telling you that I don’t have the French pox. I never did.”

  CHAPTER 14

  She never had syphilis. The truth toppled the weight off Noah’s shoulders onto his heart. Lies. It all came back to lies.

  That’s why she kept taking the medicine. Not to cure a disease everyone assumed she had, but to support the lie that she did. She’d cobbled together what little she could from the tragedy of her friend’s life and death, and built the only wall she could between her and every grasping hand in Dodge.

  By the time he’d ridden into town hell-bent on rescuing her, she’d already pulled off a feat more daring than any he could’ve imagined. More perilous, as well.

  She’d gambled one too many times. Her blasted stubbornness had run out. Now there was only fever and death.

  He picked her up and put her back in the barr
el. This time she didn’t struggle. Above the water, her head lolled against his arm. Without him, she would’ve slipped under.

  The seconds dragged by as he waited, then minutes too many count. Finally her skin cooled. He lifted her out, wrapped her in a sheet and sat on the floor to better cradle her in his arms. A shell of her former self, her shivers nonetheless rocked him.

  You must get better.

  And when she did, he couldn’t let her lies go unchallenged. Not about her health, about the so-called medicine, about what she’d promised Edward, about anything.

  No more lies.

  The dreaded heat returned, burning them both. He immersed her in the water until she cooled, drew her out and held her until she grew hot. The endless routine filled the night. He clung to it and her…until the room lightened with the coming dawn and he realized the storm had retreated along with Sadie’s fever.

  With his gaze once again on her face, he swapped her sodden shift for a dry sheet. Only after he’d bundled her up, did he set her on his narrow bed…and let go. He sank to the floor. Adrift. Lost.

  He latched onto her hand. Her fever might return. He needed to know if it did.

  Exhaustion clawed him, deep, to the bone. With her hand in his, he stretched out on his side on the floor. The second the stiffness in his muscles eased, he’d get up.

  He wanted to be awake when Sadie opened her eyes.

  * * *

  Even in sleep, Noah held her captive. Not just his hand, engulfing hers. Or his arm, solid with muscles that continued across his bare shoulders and chest. But his face. Relaxed in slumber and free of its usual furrows of concern, he appeared…content. The angle of his jaw remained resolute, though, marking him as a man who got what he wanted.

  When he’d proposed his deal for her farm, he’d said he wanted her company. A day ago in the saloon’s fancy room, he’d been blunter. He’d said he wanted her. Last night, he’d found her in his jail, in the room where he slept. Now he slept on the floor while she lay on his bed. He wore only his trousers, and she was wrapped in a…

  She glanced down. A sheet?

  He’d seen her completely naked. He got her naked. That undeniable truth made her skin tingle as if his gaze and his hands touched her right now.

  What had they done? Good God, what had she said? Her last memory was being in her chemise, wanting it off and not only because she’d been unbearably hot. He’d said something about a fever and a bathtub. But the room only held a water barrel.

  Once again he’d played nursemaid with the limited resources at hand. He’d undressed her to see to her health.

  If she cared for him even a little bit, she’d leave. Gertie would be hollering for her return. Cora would be itching for vengeance. John would’ve searched the entire town, questioned everyone…except Noah. Her heart pounded. Was John already crossing the street, heading their way?

  She had to go back. Willingly, so there wouldn’t be a fight. Without Noah by her side, so he wouldn’t be hurt. Or killed.

  She stared at the ceiling, trying to banish an image of him, like Edward, lying lifeless in a sea of blood. She steeled herself for what she must do: retrieve her dress draped over the trunk on the other side of Noah and somehow free her hand from his hold—which had suddenly tightened.

  Her breath caught in her throat. His breathing had changed as well. Silent. Held. Waiting for whatever she did next. He wasn’t going to let her go.

  She bolted upright. On the floor beside her, Noah sat up as well. Reaching for her dress, her hand landed on his chest. He didn’t budge. But the bed did. It tipped and tossed her onto him.

  Without letting go of her hand, his free arm lassoed her waist as he fell back onto the floor with her held secure on top of him. They both groaned. Her body was still sore from her tussle with the men at the rail depot. And Noah…? He couldn’t appreciate her landing so hard on him.

  He didn’t complain, but his gaze scanned her face. Finally, he sighed. The tension in his expression, as well as his tightly coiled muscles under her, eased…until his gaze dipped to the sheet she wore, then shot back up to lock with hers.

  He let go of her. All of her, including her hand.

  Even stunned by the feel of him, warm and solid beneath her, she regretted the loss of his hand deeply.

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” His deep voice lowered even further, vibrating in his chest, heavy with fatigue and something more. Energy, held in check, pulsed underneath her.

  He snatched her dress off a nearby trunk and offered it to her. “Your shift is—” he swallowed roughly, “—around here somewhere as well. Once you get up, I’ll help you find it.”

  “Last night, did I…?”

  He stared at her dress bunched in his fist, the one she hadn’t moved to take. “Your fever’s gone. That’s all that matters.”

  “Surely there’s more.” So much more matters to me. I don’t want to lose you.

  “You’re right. We have a lot to discuss.” Despite his agreement, uncertainty flashed in his eyes. “First of all, you can’t go back to the Star.”

  She went rigid with rebellion. “Then why should I get dressed?”

  “So you don’t distract me while we talk.” His growl of frustration rocked her against him and sent a thrill coursing through her veins.

  Instinctively she pressed closer, seeking more.

  With a curse, he lifted her off him, placing his hands only where the sheet touched her, making sure the thin fabric stayed around her. He placed her on the bed and rose to sit beside her. He’d done this before—when they’d first entered the fancy room together. Afterward, he’d moved as far away from her as the room would allow.

  He didn’t now. He sat very close, between her and the door. He offered the dress to her again. “Are you ready to talk?”

  Not if it meant putting him in danger. She had to leave, and she couldn’t do that naked. She grabbed the dress.

  His grip on the garment remained firm. “As soon as you’re clothed, you’re going to run away again, aren’t you?”

  I don’t want to. I have to. Gritting her teeth, she tried to tug her dress free.

  “Who else knows you don’t have syphilis?”

  Shock dropped her jaw with the force of a sledge hammer. “What? Who said—?”

  “You told me. Last night.”

  In horrified silence, she gaped at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn’t, which meant she hadn’t said more. Or so she hoped. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and prodded her brain to think.

  If she told him everything, he’d confront Gertie. Maybe even arrest her. With nothing more than Sadie’s word, he wouldn’t be able to hold the madam. Gertie would go free. When she did, she’d know Sadie’s secrets as well. She’d hold all the cards. She might do to Noah what she’d done to Edward. And if she didn’t kill Noah, Cora would.

  Noah’s continued silence along with his steely-eyed perusal sent her gaze skittering until it landed on the water barrel. “You can’t trust what someone says when they have a fever.” She cringed at the weakness of her bluff.

  “I probably shouldn’t trust what you say at any time. But—” He exhaled a weary breath. “I want to believe that taking the medicine was a temporary measure to shore up the illusion you had syphilis. What will make you stop taking it?”

  She refused to look at him. Another of his lengthy silences stretched her control—until it broke.

  When she turned back to him, he no longer assessed her but the room instead. “If you’d found what you came hunting for, would you stop?” He shook his head. “No, you’d have your promise to Edward to fulfill.” He froze. “You’re here because of him.”

  The walls pressed in on her. She had to leave this room. She yanked the dress they now both clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

  “Your luck won’t last forever. You beat the odds surviving Edward’s illness and keeping away from all the men who wanted you afterward.” H
is breath hissed between his teeth as his gaze shot back to her. “No one came after Edward. Maybe not even before him. That’s why you said what you did about that book. That’s why your kisses—”

  She seized the dress with both hands and heaved on it as hard as she could. “Let go.”

  His eyes widened. “Edward was your first lover, your only lover. Everything you’ve done, you’ve done because you loved him.”

  She shook her head, denying his words.

  “What did you promise him you’d find?”

  “No more questions.” She clamped her hand over his mouth.

  He pushed her palm sideways and pressed it against his cheek. “Why didn’t you come to the jail sooner?”

  “Stop.” A growing panic squeezed her chest. She fought to free both her dress and her hand from his hold. “Stop talking.”

  “Someone told you about the deceased’s unclaimed baggage. You came as soon as you knew, searching for—” He scanned the room again. “Not money. Nothing so simple. Not when you wouldn’t take my money for your farm.”

  She released the dress. Surging up onto her knees, she clasped his face in both hands and forced his gaze to meet hers. “I don’t want to talk about—”

  “Of course!” His eyes shone like molten rivers of gold, as he closed in on the truth. “It’s not what you want, but what Edward wanted. What did he hold dear? What did he lose?”

  Too close. And yet not close enough. She was done with talking.

  “What—?”

  She kissed him, drawing his words into her mouth along with any protests he might make. He didn’t protest. Not even when the urge to be closer to him had her straddling his lap.

  His hands landed on her hips. Hot against her bare skin. That was her first clue that the sheet had slipped away in her haste to silence him. His as well, judging by the way he inhaled sharply. His hold on her tightened, but he didn’t pull her closer.

  Questions were forming inside him again. They vibrated in the small gap still separating them. Soon he’d continue seeking answers. Or worse, he’d push her away.