by Jodi Thomas
After tossing her bag into the bed of the wagon, it took two tries for her to lift herself up. The wagon was loaded with lumber and supplies, but several bags of chicken feed and seeds of some sort lay end to end, making a perfect bed. She lay down, and frankly it wasn’t that much more uncomfortable than the bed she’d been sleeping in. She pulled a rough horse blanket over her, removed her Derringer from her bag and put the weapon under the covers but within reach, then tucked the satchel beneath her head for a pillow.
Lying awake, Laurel looked up at the black ceiling of sky strewn with thousands of glittery stars. An unbelievably full moon sent a cascade of silver light down upon the earth.
Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
Tomorrow would bring the first sunrise of the rest of her life, and she’d never look behind her again ... only forward to the future. One as bright with promise as the stars overhead.
Satisfied that Laurel was safely at home, and he’d done what his mother requested, Hunter headed to the Coyote Bluff Saloon. Like any other night, it was filled to the brim with customers. The piano player, complete with a crimson armband on his right sleeve, played as loud as he could but still his tune could barely be recognized over the racket. Thunderous noise meant lots of activity, translating into good profits for the saloon.
The stubble-bearded blacksmith yelled at Hunter the moment he walked through the swinging doors. “Got a serious poker game going over here. Saved a chair for you, Campbell.”
“Andy, you know I rarely pass up an opportunity like that, but tonight I’ve got business to tend to.” He shot the blacksmith an apologetic grin.
Typically, the poker players knew that if he passed up a game, it was only because he had a better offer and that generally included a woman and a warm bed. But tonight was different. The business that he couldn’t get out of his system was the memory of Laurel’s body against his.
Hunter strolled directly to the bar, stopping to shake hands and acknowledge customers along the way. He spoke briefly to the bartender to make sure things were running smoothly, then took a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a glass from behind the bar and headed toward a corner table, where his old friend Stubby Johnson sat nursing a drink.
“Look like you’re fresh off a cattle drive,” Stubby said.
“Should’ve seen me before I changed clothes.” Hunter opened the bottle of whiskey and poured two fingers in each glass, before asking, “Have you seen Greta?”
“Last time I saw her, she was over at the Sundance flirtin’ with any cowboy who’d buy her a drink.” Stubby picked up his glass and took a slug. “You know her, always wantin’ to make a feller happy. Gonna break it off with her?”
“Nothing to break off.”
“Cain’t tell me she means more to you than a good romp in the hay. I’ve known you too long.”
“That’s all it’s been for both of us. Greta’s told that to plenty of studs no matter what she tells the fillies.” After gulping down his whiskey, Hunter refilled his glass. “Might’ve had something if we’d tried harder, but neither of us was much into trying that hard.”
“And I can bet my last eagle that the trying stopped altogether when Laurel Dean Womack got back into town?”
“She has nothing to do with it,” Hunter lied, not only to his friend but to himself, then changed the subject. “Everything ready for tomorrow?”
“Yep. All the men know we’re meetin’ at two and will finalize our plans. Got a couple of volunteers to build the pit, and so far have three cowmen who have donated beeves to put on the spit when it’s finished. Still plannin’ on Valentine’s Day?”
“Don’t see any reason not to. All the women from the ladies’ group were out at the ranch with their heads together, so I have little doubt that my plan worked and they are preparing for a boxed supper and dance.”
“You’re sure of that? You know you scared the pee diddlin’ out of us when you changed plans at the last minute.” Stubby ran his hands through his curly black hair and plopped his Stetson back on. “I thought you’d been nipping on loco weed for a bit, but then when I saw the womenfolk skedaddlin’ outta the Sundance like their bloomers were on fire, I knew what you were doing. All we have to do now is to get the word out to the cowboys and they’ll all be bitin’ at the bit to come to town for beer and barbeque and won’t mind leaving a donation to help pave Main Street. They do like their beer.”
Hunter couldn’t help smiling. “And then they can stay for the girlie festivities if they want. They probably won’t sell many boxed suppers, but the men will want to dance, if they get tanked up enough.”
“Yep, we got our share of pretty calicos here,” Stubby said with a twinkle in his eye.
After Stubby made sure Hunter was going back to the ranch early the next morning, he reminded him that there was a wagonload of supplies over at the wagon yard that needed to be taken back to the Triple C.
“What did Mother order that takes a wagon to haul out there?” Hunter asked.
“Mainly lumber, wire, and nails. Chicken feed and some sort of seeds.”
“She’s bound and determined to build a vegetable garden and flower bed, so guess it’s the stuff she ordered from Fort Worth.” Hunter shook his head, realizing that once his mother made up her mind to do something, there was no changing it.
“Yep, and two or three rosebushes.”
Hunter rolled his eyes and almost laughed out loud, thinking back to Laurel’s comments about him planting rosebushes for his mama. Did she know something he didn’t?
“Mrs. Kruger brought over a sack of burox for your mama, and said to make sure she got ’um and for us to keep our muddle-grubbing mitts off of ’um.” Stubby smiled. “So don’t touch ’um.”
“Yes, sir. Mama sure does like Mrs. Kruger’s German burox.”
“Got one question,” Stubby remarked, but didn’t wait for a reply. “How did Laurel Dean get hornswoggled into helping out your mama and the women’s committee?”
“She didn’t. Swears she’s not taking sides, and that makes sense, because Gideon would probably disown her if she went against his wishes. He really wants to see the railroad here, and will do just about anything to make it happen.” Hunter felt uneasy with the thought. “Mother offered Laurel a job?”
“She’s been thinkin’ about gettin’ someone to do her books, since her eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but don’t tell her I said that or I’ll be the one on the barbeque spit.”
They threw back their heads and shared a gut-splitting laugh.
“Then you are totally convinced that the women are plannin’ on the boxed supper?” asked Stubby.
“One hundred and fifty percent sure. I saw Mother pass off a list of things to do to Ruby Wilson, and nobody has seen either of the Wilson women anywhere, so they are on a mission no doubt.” Hunter chuckled. “They wouldn’t even ride back to town with us, they were so excited about getting on with what they had planned.”
Hunter surveyed the room. “I think we’ve got the women exactly where we want them. We’ll just let them announce their benefit to raise money for the library, and we’ll act like we’re sorta upset they stole our idea, but we’ll figure out something else, which will make three times the money for the paving of Main Street.”
“Speaking of Main Street, you know that building that your sister had her hat shop in would make a good library,” Stubby chuckled to himself.
“So you’re workin’ on the women’s committee now, Stub?”
Before his friend could respond, he switched his attention from his whiskey glass to the front door. “Trouble. Trouble. Trouble.”
Hunter looked up and saw Greta flouncing his way.
“There you are,” she said long before she reached his table.
Stubby excused himself and went back to the bar and ordered another drink.
Damn it to hell! Hunter wasn’t up to dealing with her tonight. Earlier in the evening he’d wanted to talk to her, but now he was
too tired and frustrated. Besides, he was having trouble sorting out his feelings about their relationship except for the realization that whatever they had was over. Taking her into his bed again wasn’t about to happen and he knew that was her intent.
For the first time since laying eyes on her, at least two decades before, instead of seeing a sexy, alluring woman with plenty of mouthwatering assets to offer him, he saw a shallow female filled with nothing but fluff. He could be assured any thoughts that came through her insensitive brain contained the words me or I.
“I need to talk to you, Hunter.” She latched on to his arm and leaned into him. “I’ll be waiting in your room.” She lowered her voice but it was still cold and challenging. She added, “Now!”
Before Hunter could respond, she stood straight up, thrust out her best assets, and sauntered toward the staircase.
Annoyance flowed through him at her demanding demeanor, and Hunter almost tipped over the table when he rose to his feet.
From the bar, Stubby caught his eye and lifted a questioning eyebrow.
Feeling she deserved at least a private breakup of their relationship, Hunter followed Greta up the stairs and into his room. The second the door closed, she whirled on him. At first he thought she was lifting her arms up around his neck, but in a flash he saw an open hand.
He caught her by the wrist just before her palm met his flesh. “I’d suggest you never try that again,” he warned. Letting go of her, he added, “You’ll only get the chance to slap me once.”
Hunter had never touched a woman in anger and didn’t have any plans on doing so now; however, Greta made him irate enough for him to consider going against his principles.
“What were you doing with that piece of rubbish, Laurel Womack?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I saw her waiting for you outside the Sundance. I almost laughed at the getup she had on, and she’s supposed to have been in New York at finishing school.” She laughed in a cynical, uncaring fashion. “Victoria told me that you were with her most of the day. Why would you spend a second more than necessary with a dim-witted twit like her when you have a woman like me waiting for you?” She ran her hand up his chest and tried to unbutton his shirt.
More gingerly than he wanted, he grabbed her hand. “What I do is none of your business.” Her arm dropped to her side. “Our time together wore thin long ago, Greta. I believe it’s best for both of us to admit it and quit seeing one another.”
“You’re rejecting me!” She snarled satirically, and then her voice hardened into clay. “You can’t do that to me!”
“It has nothing to do with rejection. I’m just through with us using one another.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m a man with feelings, not a plaything to satisfy your whim-whams. And you deserve something I’ve never been able to give you.”
She stared in his direction. “But you’ve enjoyed every minute of me, and you know it.” Suddenly she brought her hand up, but apparently thought twice before she slapped him. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“No, ma’am. I’m trying to keep us both from making the biggest mistakes of our lives.”
Five minutes later Hunter stood beside Stubby at the bar and took another slug of Black Jack.
“I guess that didn’t go as well as you expected, from the way Greta came down the stairs. I wasn’t sure if she was moving on her own or had the toe of your boot up her fanny, but she didn’t lollygag.”
“Went about like I expected, but I don’t want to talk about it,” he said to his friend. “See you tomorrow.” Hunter addressed the bartender. “I’ll be in before noon, if you need anything.”
Stubby caught him just as he turned to leave. “Don’t forget your mama’s wagon or she’ll skin your hide and mine, too, for not reminding you.” Stubby laughed and went back to drinking. “And you dang sure better make certain everything is there before you head out.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” Hunter grabbed the half-filled bottle of Jack Daniel’s and stuck it in his jacket pocket, then picked up the wrapped burox.
Having no desire to stay in town and plenty of reasons to get back to the ranch, Hunter headed for the livery. He probably looked like a fool with a bottle of whiskey in one pocket and German stuffed bread in the other.
In the mood he was in, he might well drink the whole damn bottle of whiskey, eat every bite of the bread, and deal with his mama tomorrow.
Within minutes, Hunter stood with his feet apart and arms folded across his chest staring at the sleeping angel curled up in the back of his wagon.
What in the hell had happened to cause Laurel Dean to leave home in the middle of the night and wind up sleeping in a bed of supplies?
Chapter 10
A cloud quickly cloaked the full moon, shadowing Laurel. Before Hunter could speak, she sat straight up. With a steady hand, she aimed a Derringer right between his eyes.
“Put the damn gun down, Laurel,” Hunter bellowed. He resisted adding, “If you call that thing a gun,” because he was pretty certain she’d fire at him just to prove him wrong. At least, he knew she wasn’t hurt.
Slowly he held up his hands as a sign he wasn’t holding a sidearm.
“Hunter?” She lowered the pearl-handled woman’s weapon. “You shouldn’t have sneaked up on me.”
“What in the hell are you doing sleeping in the wagon yard?” He knew his voice was more confrontational than he would have liked.
“I came here to check on Buckey. I brushed him down, and was enjoying just looking at the full moon and guess I fell asleep,” she said with a firm, yet gentle softness in her voice. She looked up at him as if she really thought he believed her explanation.
A cloud quickly scurried away from the face of the moon, allowing moonlight to once again flood the wagon yard.
Laurel slid the gun in her bag and pushed it behind her.
“So you brought a carpetbag with you to groom a horse?”
“It’s a valise!”
“Valise, carpetbag, it doesn’t matter what it’s called, I just want to know why you’re hiding out here and not home in bed, where you belong?” Hunter impatiently ripped out his words.
The look on her face told him she wasn’t all that happy being questioned by him.
“I’m not hiding. I simply fell asleep.”
Although she looked him straight in the face, he knew a lie when he heard one. Why wasn’t she telling him the truth? Her safety was more important to him than any reason she could give. But something strange and unsettling filled the air.
“Get down from there right now.” A tightening came to his chest. “It’s obvious you need to talk to someone, so it might as well be me.”
Laurel physically drew back from him. Tears welled in her eyes. She was frightened, truly frightened, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with him.
She finally whispered, “Hunter, I’m not coming down. All I’m doing is sleeping. I’m not hurting anything, so please leave me alone.” In a soft voice, she continued, “Thank you, but I don’t need to talk to anyone.”
“You picked the wrong wagon, Laurel. This one belongs to the Triple C, so if I say you can’t sleep in it, you can’t.”
“Go get the sheriff and have me arrested, but I’m not leaving.” She crossed her wrists as if prepared to be handcuffed.
“At least you’d be safe in the hoosegow,” he said under his breath, but felt sure in the stillness of the night she heard his every word. “If you won’t come down here for us to talk, I’m coming up there.”
Laurel seized her valise and scooted back into the far corner of the wagon.
“You can make it either easy or hard on yourself, it’s your choice.” Receiving no response, Hunter heaved himself into the back of the wagon and maneuvered his big frame around until he was seated next to Laurel. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, trying to make himself comfortable.
He didn’t want to frighten her more by pressuring her for a better explan
ation, so they sat in silence for a long time, just staring at the stars.
“I’m not going to ask you any questions about what sent you out here to sleep, but I’m not fool enough to believe your story that you just fell asleep.”
“Thanks,” she stalled, then said, “My uncle and I had a disagreement. I just needed some fresh air.”
“Did he hurt you?” Hunter quickly asked.
She shook her head. “Not physically.”
“Your uncle can be an arrogant, insensitive sonofabitch.” Hunter almost bit his tongue to keep from saying what he really thought about Gideon Duncan, knowing he probably wouldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. “Then why didn’t you go to the hotel for the night?”
“I don’t have any money ...” She stopped, as if she had to think up something else to say before adding, “I mean, I have no money with me.”
He believed her about as much as a cattle rustler just happening to have wire cutters in his pocket to pick his teeth with. She had the wherewithal to pack some of her things in a bag, take a pistol with her, but didn’t think about money. Not a likely story; but right now, he felt in his soul that she needed a friend.
“I’m sure Gideon has an account at the hotel, but if you don’t want to go there, how about coming to my saloon? I have an extra room on the second floor you’re welcome to use.”
Way too fast she responded, “No, thank you.”
“Then let me take you out to the ranch—”
She vehemently shook her head.
“Bobbie Ray’s room is empty. You can stay there. Mama will probably insist you stay in my sister’s old room, if you decide to go to work for her.”
“We can decide that if I get the job.”
Catching a whiff of the meat and bread pies in his pocket, Hunter asked, “Are you hungry?”
She hesitated, but by the way she licked her lower lip, he knew she hadn’t eaten.
