by Becky Lower
“So, Sam. Or should I say Samantha? Want to tell me your story?” He grinned at her, causing more confusion. She turned her face from him, her cheeks burning.
“If you undressed me, you know all there is to know.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so. Not by a long shot. I think, after we get some food in you, and you use the chamber pot or whatever, we need to have a long talk.”
Samantha groaned as she attempted to sit upright. She could feel the length of cloth around her mid-section, wrapped tightly and restricting her breathing. She inhaled careful, shallow, breaths.
“How long have I been unconscious? Are my ribs broken?” She ran her hand over the binding.
“One of them is, most definitely. But it stopped the bullet from piercing your lung, so it’s a small enough sacrifice. And you’ve been out of it for only a day.”
Her mouth tightened as her movements brought more pain to the surface. Val continued to stare at her, which brought her even more agony.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re running from?”
“Give me a few minutes before you start with the questions, okay?” Maybe anger would make him back off until she could figure out what to do next. What story to come up with that would make sense.
“All right. Chamber pot’s by the bed. I’ll run up to the inn and get you something bland to eat. But I want answers when I come back.”
She kept her eyes focused on the wall. “Why don’t you tell me first how I got here? I don’t remember anything after being shot.”
“I found you and brought you here. Then Gus and I pulled the ball out of your back. Here it is.” Val rolled the ball between his fingers before he handed it to her.
She shifted her gaze to the little ball. Her world had been turned upside down again, and by a tiny ball of lead.
“Does Gus know, too?” She squirmed under Val’s intense stare.
“Not yet. I stuffed a sock down your drawers, in case he had a reason to turn you over. But we worked on your back, and he didn’t see anything.”
Samantha’s hand moved down her body and she found the padding between her legs. Her cheeks blazed again. “You touched me down there?”
Val grinned. “Nope. As tempting as it was, I kept my hand well away, just stuffed the sock down your front. So right now, your secret is between us. And if I get some answers to my questions, it might stay that way. I’ll go get your food.”
Val exited the room, and Samantha crawled out of bed to relieve herself. She removed the sock Val had so carefully stuffed down her front and took care of her business. Accomplishing even the single, small chore wore her out, so she slipped between the sheets as quickly as she could and fell into a light sleep. A scrape of a chair against the floorboard awoke her.
Val had some fragrant barley soup, which he insisted on feeding her a spoonful at a time. She tried to protest, but since she was as weak as a baby bird, she doubted she could have eaten by herself. He didn’t say anything while he fed her, but the questions hung in the air between them nonetheless.
Once the soup was gone, Val used a napkin to wipe her mouth and chin. Then he leaned back into his chair and pinned her to the bed with his eyes.
“So, tell me what happened. Who shot you?”
“It was someone from the wagon train. I passed close by the train, and they must have thought I was an Indian or something.”
Val shook his head. “Holy hell. Gus and I came up with several different ideas, but never once did we suspect a wagon train.”
“Well, it was raining awfully hard. I had taken off my duster coat, which only dragged me down and didn’t help keep me dry. I thought the red shirt would mark me as a Pony Express rider, but it obviously didn’t make a difference to them. I guess the rain was a good thing, though, since their impaired vision made for a shot that went off the mark.”
“They shot you in the back, Sam. That meant you were past them already. Even if they mistook you for an Indian, you were already by them, and they had nothing to fear.”
“It could have been worse.” Samantha glanced at Val and shrugged her shoulders, which caused her wound to scream in protest.
“I’m going to have to tell Gus.”
“Tell him everything?” Her voice squeaked.
“It depends. Level with me, Sam, Samantha, whatever your name is, and tell me why you’re on the run.”
“No. If I tell you, you’ll have to tell Gus.”
“I should do so right now. But if you give me a good reason not to, I won’t.”
Samantha stared at him. “Even if it puts your job in jeopardy? You love working for the Pony Express.”
Val gently grasped her hand. “Even then. Give me a reason to not bring Gus into the picture. Tell me your secret. Your other secret. Why are you on the run?”
• • •
Samantha grew warm under Val’s gaze, and she quickly removed her hand from his. Even with a gunshot wound in her back, his touch sent bolts of electricity through her. Bolts she didn’t want to deal with right now. She inhaled as deep a breath as her bound lungs would let her and returned his stare.
“You guessed correctly, Val. My name is Samantha. Samantha Hughes. And I am on the run. My uncle is searching for me.”
Val let out a long breath. “I thought you were running from a vicious husband. An uncle is a relief. We can handle him. But why is he after you? Did you take something from him?”
Samantha moved her legs under the sheet. If she could have gotten up and fled from Val and his questions, she would have. He didn’t need to be caught up in her web of lies. But all she wanted to do was to go back to sleep. So the sooner she finished up and satisfied his curiosity, the better. She took a short breath, very aware of the pain in her back.
“I guess you could say I did take something from him. He fed me and provided me lodging for the past couple of years, since my Momma and Daddy died from smallpox. Momma sent her sister a letter when she and my daddy got sick, but by the time Aunt Hilda arrived, they were dead and I was too sick to even bury them. Aunt Hilda did, while she nursed me, and when I was well enough to travel, she took me to her home in Missouri.”
“So why did you run?”
“Because my aunt died a few months ago, and if I had stayed in the cabin one more night, Uncle Jack would have taken something very precious from me. My innocence. He’d been threatening to do so for a while, ever since I began to grow breasts, and Aunt Hilda kept him at bay. But she couldn’t protect me any longer. So I ran on the day of her funeral. I made sure Jack was well on the way to drinking himself into a stupor before I took the wagon back to the cabin. I packed my picture of Momma and Daddy, a change of clothes, and I left. I cut my hair along the way and hoped I could pass myself off as a man.”
Val ran his hand over his chin as he listened. “Does your uncle have enough money to hire the Pinkertons?”
“No. My parents were dirt poor, but Uncle Jack and Aunt Hilda were worse off. Anytime they got some money, Jack would go to town and spend it on drink, gambling, and women. Then he’d come home and beat on Aunt Hilda, right before he took her into the bedroom and had his way with her.”
“Wow. What a rough life.”
“Poor Aunt Hilda. She suffered even more so by trying to shield me.”
Tears smarted at her eyes as she raised them to Val. He grasped her hand again, his fingers running lightly over her palm.
“Your aunt’s in a better place now. And you’re not to blame for anything that happened to her.”
Samantha took a breath, and shifted on the bed. “I know it, logically, but I still feel immense guilt over the beatings she endured at the hands of her husband.”
“Yeah, I get it. Still though, it wasn’t your fault. But if he doesn’t have money, how could he have hired the Pinkertons?”
“I have no proof they were after me. But if they were, he got money from someone. And the only person I can think of is Mabel, the madam of the town bordello. Maybe he pro
mised me to her if he could find me.”
“Why? What difference would it make to him?”
“Because he hates me. I never gave him any respect. I can’t respect a bully. He thought I had an attitude, because I never backed down around him like Aunt Hilda did. I think he wants me back so he can rape me, and then he’ll turn me over to Mabel so I can have men paw at me daily. That would be a most fitting punishment, in his mind.”
“But now, since he hasn’t been able to find you, maybe it’s done.”
“Maybe. I won’t feel safe until I turn eighteen, though, and can be legal in the eyes of the law. Another nine months and twelve days.”
Val grinned. “Well then. I guess I can keep your secret for another nine months, too.”
“And twelve days?”
“Yes, Sam, and twelve days.”
Samantha stared at him again. “Why? You could probably get a reward if you turn me in, especially if the Pinkertons are really after me.”
Valerian cleared his throat. “First off, from what you’ve told me about your uncle, I don’t think he’s smart enough to have gotten help from Mabel or anyone else. So I don’t think the Pinkertons were after you, and there is no reward money involved. And second, even if there were, I don’t need any reward money. I’ll keep your secret.”
“You’d do that for me? Even though it’s against the oath?”
“I agree the Pony Express oath is not something to be taken lightly. But your situation is more desperate than making sure the mail goes through. Believe me, Sam, it’s a secret I won’t mind keeping. Samantha.”
“Thank you, Val.” Her words were no more than a whisper.
“Frankly, I’m glad to find out you’re a girl. Joseph told me he thought there was a reason we met, that it was fate, or destiny or some such Indian notion. I don’t mind having men as friends, but you got under my skin worse than anyone ever has. I was beginning to wonder about my reaction to you. And to question myself about it. I’m not the kind of guy who’s attracted to other men.”
Samantha breathed a slight, shaky breath. So the attraction had not been one-sided. “You got under my skin, too, Val. From day one.”
“And since I removed the bullet from you with my own fingers, I guess you can now really claim I got under your skin.”
Samantha groaned, partially from the pain her wound caused, but also from his words. All this talk had tired her out, and she needed more sleep. She slid down on the cot and proceeded to get a lump in her throat when Val pulled the sheet up over her. She hadn’t been taken care of in a really long time.
He brushed her hair back from her face. “Get some sleep. I’ll make sure no one gets to you.”
She couldn’t be certain, since she fell into a state of semi-consciousness quickly, but she thought Val had leaned over her and lightly kissed her cheek. She brought her hand up to touch it, feeling safe for the first time since her parents had died.
• • •
Valerian ran his hand over Samantha’s face. She was hot to the touch and sweating. He retrieved some water from the trough in front of the barn. Swabbing her down was the only thing he could think of to help bring down her temperature. Fever meant infection. That much he was aware of. His sisters had received some medical training over the years, and had used him to practice what they had learned. He doubted, though, that any of them had ever removed a bullet from someone’s back or cared for a person afterwards. They would have no more knowledge than he of what to do next.
He turned Samantha over and pulled down the cloth binding to study the bandage over the wound. Blood had seeped through the bandage, so he removed it and cleaned the wound again with hot water from the wood stove. The wound was hot to the touch, and angry-looking, so it was infected. He finished by putting a clean bandage on and pulled the binding up over it. The pressure from the binding would keep the blood to a minimum, anyway. He wished his mother were here to give him advice.
Wishing for his mother’s presence brought on a bout of homesickness. He missed his lively family. What would his sisters say if they met Samantha? Sam had pulled off the deception of pretending to be a man successfully for two months. His sisters would be in awe of her, he suspected. As was he. And his mother would accept her as another daughter and care for her as if she were a member of the family.
He’d never been in awe of anyone before. Well, maybe Joseph, to some degree. After all, half-breed Indians had a hard time of things since not everyone in the country wanted Indians to blend with whites. Val had overheard some of the insensitive conversations people held behind their hands when Joseph and his brothers came into the city of St. Louis. And he was impressed when he witnessed how Ginger held her head up when she was with him, as people whispered about them. Even in the big city, there was prejudice, but Ginger and Joseph met it head on. Joseph and his family had carved out a nice business for themselves, and even if they weren’t accepted by everyone, they were at least respected.
But when he compared his own lot in life to Samantha’s, or Joseph and Ginger’s life, he realized they had it easy. Samantha had no parents anymore. Even though he had chafed at his parents’ ambitions for him, they were his rock. How would his life be different if he’d had to make his way without their steady guidance? And to now have Samantha’s only living relative coming after her for nefarious intent was a situation Val couldn’t even imagine.
Well, regardless of whether the Pinkertons or only her uncle were after her, they’d have to go through Val first. His first obligation was to keep Samantha alive and get her well. And then he’d make it his business to keep her safe from danger. Only after he accomplished those two obligations would Val allow himself to consider the other ramifications of their fate.
Val was unaccustomed to having responsibility thrust upon him. His two older brothers had accepted the mantle of dependability that came with being the eldest members of a large family and running a family business. All Valerian had wanted from the time he was a child had been to care for and ride horses. But here he was, harboring the biggest secret of his lifetime—one that could get both him and Samantha fired immediately with the loss of their back pay. Even so, he knew that some secrets were worth keeping. Nine months and twelve days to go.
Chapter 13
Val walked over to the hotel and asked Gus’s wife, Emma, for help. He needed to clean the wound with something. He just wasn’t sure what. Emma was busy directing the several kitchen employees, so she shoved a bottle of carbolic acid at him, issued quick directions on its use, and shooed him from her kitchen. Samantha’s secret would continue to be Val’s alone.
He pulled down Samantha’s binding cloth, and breathed a bit easier when he saw the flow of blood had tapered off. He dabbed some of the carbolic acid on the wound. Her flesh quivered as the acid bubbled over the incision, doing its work. Valerian bandaged it again with fresh linen. Now it was up to Samantha to heal. Val turned her back over and brushed her hair from her eyes.
How had he ever mistaken her for a boy? Now, seeing her for the first time without the involvement of any subterfuge, or her large hat, he could see her femininity plain as day. Thick, dark brown hair, long eyelashes, a pert little nose, a ripe mouth. A mouth that made his own salivate. He swallowed, hard.
He leaned over her, staring at Samantha’s mouth. True, he had brushed her cheek with his lips as he pulled the sheet up over her, but now it wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste her succulent lips. He was spellbound, and all he could do to escape from this torture was to capture her mouth, regardless of whether she was asleep or not. He slowly lowered his head toward his tantalizing target, now only a hair’s breadth away. His manhood stirred in agreement of his actions.
Three sharp blasts on a horn broke the spell. Valerian blinked, straightened up, and inhaled a deep breath. He was no better than her Uncle Jack if he’d take advantage of her while she slept. Jeez! He ran his hand through his hair, then bolted up and plopped his hat on his head. He had to get a pony sa
ddled up for the rider coming in.
The remainder of the day was spent caring for the horses, mucking out stalls, hauling feed, and pitching hay. He checked on Samantha every hour, but she slept on. He swabbed her down with cool water in an attempt to get her fever under control, and was relieved when it finally broke and she slept peacefully. But Val stayed well away from her tempting mouth for the remainder of the day. How he’d manage to keep away from her now that he was in possession of all her secrets was a puzzle he’d have to deal with when the time came. He could keep her identity a secret, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for the rest of it.
He hadn’t been lying to her when he said she’d gotten under his skin. He could deal with it when he considered her as a male buddy, although his reaction had puzzled him. But now she had morphed into a girl right in front of his eyes, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t ready for marriage, which could be the only outcome with a girl such as Sam. Samantha. Maybe it would be best to place himself somewhere else along the route. What were the words from the Bible? Deliver me from temptation. He bit his lip as he considered the options. Samantha was certainly a temptation. Gus wouldn’t be able to say anything if he filled a slot on farther west. After all, he’d still be working with the Pony Express. Just not with him. Not with Sam.
Val’s glance once again flitted over Samantha’s decidedly feminine features. He should leave Samantha, with her secrets and her fetching mouth, behind. He groaned and removed his hat, tugging on his hair. He’d only be able to walk away once he was assured she’d heal from her gunshot wound and she was safe from Uncle Jack. Nine months and eleven days to go.
Was he up to the challenge? He had assured Samantha he was, but now he wasn’t so sure. Sooner or later, he’d give in to temptation and kiss her soundly, not on her cheek, but squarely on the lips this time. And then what? Maybe she’d rebuff him. Maybe her experiences with her uncle had turned her against men altogether. He’d wait until she got back on her feet and keep his distance as long as possible.
