by Maren Smith
And getting pricklier by the second with every step he took when he circled around the fire to her side. She glared, shivering and rubbing at her arms. “Oh. Silly me, here I thought maybe you were done beating me for the night.”
Cal laughed again. He had that hard, unamused coughing sound down fairly well. “Yeah, keep on pushing. See what happens.”
He sat down on the ground directly behind her, pulling her back into the cradle of his arms and legs. It was right on the tip of her tongue to object, but she really was cold and Cal felt as warm as sunshine everywhere he touched her. She couldn’t help curling against him, turning slightly to press her cheek against his shoulder. He held her, rubbing her arms with his large hands.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked incredulous.
“A little,” he admitted. He made himself comfortable, propping his back against a relatively flat side of the rocky nook they’d taken shelter in for the night, and folded his arms around her. “These last few years, I’ve probably spent at least half my nights sleeping out with the cows. I’m just more used to it than you are.”
Katy shifted a little, craning her head on his shoulder so she could look up at him. “Is that why you and your father left? You went to work on someone else’s ranch?”
“We went to work our own ranch,” Cal corrected. “Granddaddy left his spread to my daddy when he died. So, we bought our seed stock from your daddy and we moved out here to start our own business. It’s going well, too. Nothing like what you’re used to, but we get by and we’re growing. I’ve no complaints.”
Katy shifted again, trying to get the pointed end of a rock out from under her hip. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself for warmth. She even relaxed a little, in spite of herself. “I remember your father. He always had little pieces of licorice or rock candy in his pockets. Every time I came up to him, he’d give me a piece. My mother was always mad because I was never hungry when supper rolled around.” She felt more than heard Cal’s soft laugh. “How is he these days?”
“He died. It’s been about…eight months come November. The dry weather out here made it easier, but consumption finally got him.”
For a moment, Katy forgot the cold, the uncomfortable rocks. She even forgot how much she didn’t like Cal. “I’m sorry.”
When she looked up at him, his face held a far-away expression. “Don’t be. Those last couple years were hell on him. He’s not hurting anymore. Be happy for that. God knows I am.” Nodding faintly, Cal then looked at her. “I was real sorry to hear about your father, too.”
Katy looked away. She tried not to feel it, but even after four years, it still hit her like a knife in the chest. “He got thrown from his horse. His neck was broken.”
“I’m sorry,” Cal said again.
She was sorry, too. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t felt sorry. Sometimes it seemed like she’d never feel anything but this again. She concentrated on just trying to breathe, slow and even, even when she added, “Mama remarried.”
Cal didn’t say anything. He just stroked her arm.
“Do you remember daddy’s friend, Clifton Sullivan?” she asked.
“Uh.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “Yeah, I think so. Lived in Stillwater, above the milliner’s shop, didn’t he? Used to come out twice a year and help bale hay? Seemed like a nice enough fellow.”
“He is, very nice. He’s a very decent man, but…” Katy stared straight into the fire now. “But that’s who she married. Four months after daddy died.”
“Ah,” Cal said. That was it, but Katy still stiffened. His ‘ah’ had a tone.
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anyth—”
“Oh yes, it does,” Katy snapped. Warm or not, she pulled out of his arms. “It means something or you wouldn’t have said it like that: ah.”
“I’m not trying to fight.”
“The hell you’re not!”
“Watch your mouth!”
“I am watching it!” Katy jerked stiffly off his chest, wrestling briefly to get out of his loosening embrace and wiggling around on her knees to face him. “After a lifetime on a ranch and three months at the Abilene, believe me, I’ve got one hell of a vocabulary that I could be using!”
“Look.” Cal tried visibly to let the secondary quarrel go and focus in on the main one. “All I meant was, I can see how a woman with a ranch larger than some east coast states, with all that help looking to her for the sakes of their livelihoods and trying to raise a fourteen year old daughter to boot, might not want to suddenly have to do it all alone. That’s all I’m saying, and hopefully I’m saying it in a way that isn’t going to start another argument.”
In no mood to be allayed, regardless of how much sense he was making, Katy struggled to her feet. “That just shows how stupid you are. You don’t understand anything!”
Cal watched her go, his arms slightly spread in a helpless shrug of frustration and confusion.
Finding someplace else to sit all the way across the fire from him, Katy hugged her arms around herself and tried to keep warm on her own. She didn’t even care if she froze all night. At this point, she’d rather be cold than held by someone like him.
* * * * *
The sun was a glow of pink and yellow on the horizon and the fire was little more than a char of blackened coals and thin reeds of smoke when Katy gradually awoke. It had been a very long night, most of which she’d spent curled in a tight ball, shivering. Sleep had been forever in coming, but as cold as she remembered being once the sun had gone down, right now, she felt pretty comfortable.
A low rattling snore vibrated around her, followed by an exhaling breath that puffed back out across the top of her hair. Katy opened her eyes, blinking in confusion at the buttons and shirt collar and the long scruffy neck, studded with dark whiskers, just inches from her nose. It took her a moment to remember where she was, why she was sleeping outside on the rocky ground, and with whom. It was another heartbeat longer before she remembered she was supposed to be angry, but it wasn’t until she felt a warm slither of movement on the inner slope of her left thigh that she came abruptly awake enough to ball up her fist and hit Cal.
Her knuckles cracked against his shoulder, but she knocked his arm off from around her waist and sent the rest of him sprawling over onto his back. He came up snarling, “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”
She fell onto her back too, and her temper wasn’t much sweeter when she scrambled to sit upright. “You get your—” The word ‘hands’ died on her lips when she heard the hissing rattle emanating from under her skirts. “Snake,” she said, the shocking calm of her voice in no way an accurate reflection of any other part of her. “There’s a snake between my legs.”
The anger vanished from him face. “What?”
“My apologies. I thought it was yours.”
“Don’t move.” Cal scrambled to his feet. Now he stood there, half standing, half squatting, staring at her lap. “Is it inside your dress or under?”
“In,” she specified, fighting not to shudder. She could feel it moving, butting its smooth nose against the underside of one knee as it slithered up off the ground, coiling its cool, scaly body on top of her warm thigh. “It’s definitely in.”
Cal lowered to one knee, reaching for the hem of her skirt. “Don’t move,” he said again.
“I’m not moving,” Katy said through clenched teeth. She held herself completely frozen, cringing inward with every rattling hiss as Cal lifted the hem of her skirt high, folding the volumes of dusty cloth back up around her hips until he had exposed the snake. It coiled tighter on her thighs, focused on Cal, the tip of its vibrating tail warning him of its intent to strike unless it was left alone. “Kill it.”
“Don’t. Move.” Cal gradually released her skirt, careful to keep himself well out of striking range. He rubbed his mouth and chin with one hand, coming back up off his knee as he positione
d himself off to the side of the snake.
“Kill it,” she said again, stifling a full-body shudder as it raised its head off her leg and spat, its warning hiss escalating into a rigid and very real threat. “Shoot it, Cal!”
“The bullet would go right through the snake and into you. Just hold still.”
“I’m not,” Katy bit through tightly clenched teeth, “moving!”
The snake rose another inch off her thigh, coiling backwards into an ‘s’ shaped bunch of readiness, weaving slightly as it followed the exaggerated motion of Cal’s left hand as he waved it well out of striking range. Preoccupied, the snake never noticed Cal’s other hand, circling in from behind. “Hold very still.”
“Oh my God,” Katy snapped. “If you tell me not to move one more time, I swear I’m going to scr—”
Cal grabbed the snake, latching onto the animal behind its gaping head and whipping the reptile off Katy’s legs. In one motion, he both stood and tossed, sending the animal flying out across the sagebrush and into the shadowed bushes at the base of a mound of loose rocks.
Katy was moving before the snake had even landed. She came to her feet hopping and squealing, slapping at her legs first and then at her dress until her disheveled skirts were once more hanging down where they belonged. Her skin was crawling everywhere and there was no stifling the wracking shudder that moved through her from head to foot and back again.
Hands on his hips, Cal watched the brush and rocks until he was sure the snake wasn’t going to come charging back into the argument, and then he turned to Katy. He grinned. Katy shuddered all over again.
“Well?” he said, thoroughly pleased with himself. He waited for her to acknowledge his actions with a tender word of thanks.
The words stuck in Katy’s throat. A sincerely spoken thank you was the very least of what she owed him—for keeping her warm all night despite her rotten behavior, not to mention saving her from what would surely have been a very nasty snake bite—but she just could not make herself say it. She tried to, twice. Each attempt ended verbally premature, culminating in a breathy hiccup, and then she just gave up altogether.
“So much for breakfast,” she snapped. She walked away glaring at the ground.
“Cantankerous mule,” he snapped after her.
“Smart ass!”
There! Now he’d correct her language and then they’d both settle into the long walk back to town, once more comfortably irritated with one another. Except that Cal didn’t. He laughed instead, low chuckles that promptly gave way to a backwards toss of his head and a hooting guffaw.
“What?” she snarled when he quickly caught up to her in only a handful of long-legged strides.
“You just called me smart.” He grinned, ignoring her narrow-eyed frown. “Considering where we’ve been, I see that as an improvement.” Clapping her none-too-gently on the shoulder, he strode out into the scrub and sage ahead of her, whistling.
* * * * *
It was halfway to noon and the day was already growing unbearable hot when they staggered back into town. Right about this time, the Union Pacific was pulling into Wyoming…with their luggage, but without them. Cal knew there were going to be questions, but as they trudged into town—Katy without her bonnet, well on her way to sunburned, dusty from head to toe and wearing at least two cacti’ worth of spines in the hem of her skirts—Cal knew there wasn’t any kind of answer he could give that wouldn’t lead to a lot of nudging and winking and knowing smirks. If he hadn’t found Katy dancing in the Abilene, it might even have ended in a shotgun wedding. Fortunately for him, her family was still two full states away and no one up there was likely to ever hear about any of this.
Almost imperceptibly, Katy started to steer herself toward the Abilene. Reaching out, Cal tapped her on the shoulder and pointed toward the stationhouse instead.
Her shoulders slumped, but she reoriented herself without a word and together they trudged toward the ticket box.
The clerk glanced up from his paper and a flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes. He took in their disheveled appearances with a worried frown. “Did…did something happen to the train?”
“Nope.” Cal pulled out his wallet. “It just got away from us, that’s all. When’s the next one come through?”
“Not until Tuesday. The stage is due this afternoon, though. It only goes to Salt Lake City, but they’ll have far more frequent service to Wyoming from there.”
“Sounds good to me.” He bought two tickets and then checked the time. They had hours yet, more than enough time to get scrubbed up, rested up and perhaps even a bite or two to eat. At the moment, it was a toss-up what he wanted most right now. A bath sounded heavenly. The idea of sleeping (even if only a few hours) in a soft feather bed struck him as damn near orgasmic. His stomach rumbled, quite effectively cancelling out all other concerns. At least until they passed the mercantile and he spied a ready-made dress displayed in the window.
Cal paused on the sidewalk and looked at it. It was a simple gown, off-white cotton with patterned sprigs of grass and blue flowers. There was a touch of plain lace at the collar and on the sleeves. It would probably cost him an ungodly amount too. Briefly, he considered sending a rider to his ranch to fetch a change of clothes, but even at a full gallop, there was no way anyone would get there and back again before the stagecoach came and went.
He looked down at Katy, wondering if the dress would even fit her. She was eyeing it as well, her expression a mirror reflection of reluctance. Heaving a sigh, he steered her into the shop ahead of him.
The dress cost almost twenty dollars, a hideous extravagance that he nonetheless paid. He also bought a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans.
“Mercenary bastard,” Katy muttered as they left the store.
“Watch your mouth,” Cal replied, in full agreement. On the way to the hotel, he stopped to send a telegraph to Katy’s mother.
Please disregard previous telegram. STOP Train escaped us. STOP Coming up on stage instead. STOP Will let you know what train when we reach SLC. STOP Katy is fine and will be home soon. END
“There’s no reason you have to come with me, you know,” Katy said as they trudged across the street toward the hotel. “You win, all right. I’ll go home.”
“Right.” Tired as he was, he still smiled. “Sure you will.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not a word.”
She frowned; he chuckled and nudged her back, keeping her walking all the way through the swinging doors. Just before she crossed the threshold, she hesitated. He had to nudge her again and was so tired that he almost didn’t notice that she was looking off to one side. Following her gaze, Cal spotted a woman in an upper floor window of the Abilene, just down the street. The woman vanished behind a fluttering curtain, but not before Cal recognized her.
Lowering his mouth to Katy’s ear, Cal said, “Don’t even think about it, baby girl.”
Katy shot him a mutinous glare. Gathering her dirty skirts, she swept into the hotel with blue eyes flashing and head held high.
Cal ordered a room and a fresh bath—his second extravagance for the day. “You can go first,” he told Katy (rather magnanimously, he thought) as they climbed the second-story stairs. The look she shot back at him over her shoulder said once more they were not in agreement. Cal let it go. She was tired, and so was he. Tempers were bound to be short and a little frayed around the edges.
There were six upper floor rooms: three that faced the main street through town and three that overlooked the busy lumber mill out back. He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him, but for the second time, Katy paused in the threshold.
“Don’t worry,” he told her when she only stared inside at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
She had twin spots of color burning in her cheeks again. She glanced back down the hall the way they’d come, then sidestepped, allowing the proprietor enough space to lug an oblong tin
tub into the room. Laying a towel on the floor, he placed the tub in the center and then got out of the way, allowing the two women who had followed him to empty into it the four steaming buckets they’d been carrying. When they were done, four inches of heated water covered the bottom of the tub and Katy and Cal were once more left alone to stare at one another.
“Well?” she said, bracing her hands on her hips.
Sinking into a cushioned chair by the window, Cal propped his feet up on the table and let out a groan of relief. “I promise not to peek.”
Katy glared at him, her hands knuckling into fists. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to—and after a moment, Cal dragged his feet back down off the table. Stifling another groan, this time, certainly not one of relief, he stood up again.
“I’ll bring you something to eat.” He crossed the room, noting how she edged away from him as he trudged back out into the hall. “You’ve got ten minutes. Don’t take all the hot—”
She went inside and closed the door before he could finish.
“Water.” Cal nodded once, then he shook his head. His weary footsteps seemed heavy and loud as he headed down the hall for the stairs.
“Two hot dinners,” he told the proprietor as he passed the counter. “A sweet tea for the lady, and I’m going to need a beer. We’ll take them in our room in about fifteen minutes.”
“Certainly.”
Cal tapped the bar and nodded, but he didn’t stop walking. He left the hotel, making an immediate right and heading to the end of the wooden walkway, around the corner of the hotel and all the way down the alley to the rear of the building. The lumberyard was busy. He could see half a dozen men scraping bark from a variety of tree trunks, preparing them for the saw. Now that was a difficult job. It was hard, hot, physical labor.
It almost compared to this.
As he rounded the back of the hotel, Cal unbuckled his belt and tugged the worn length of leather from his belt loops. He was still wrapping the buckled end around his palm when the brunette from the Abilene saw him, squeaked and ran. Katy was hanging completely out of the upper story window, dangling by both hands from the windowsill and feeling with her feet for the thin frame across the top of the lower floor window directly below. As low as she could get, she pushed away from the wall and jumped, landing on her feet and only a little off balance.
