by Sharon Ihle
Between the new clothing and refreshing bath, she ought to have relaxed at least enough to make a choice for her supper, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on her menu. The Harvey House offered a huge assortment of food, more entrees than she'd ever heard of, much less had the opportunity to sample. There were bluepoints on the shell, whatever they were, and an assortment of lamb, beef, duck, and fish, all presented in French sauces or manners of cooking Shylo didn't understand—and there wasn't one plain vegetable listed anywhere. Potatoes were franaise, peas were marrowfat, and the asparagus was in some kind of cream sauce. She glanced briefly at the dessert menu, and then looked away. The only thing she recognized there was "assorted fruits and cheeses."
Since a Harvey Girl was standing beside him waiting for their order, Dimitri finally said to an unusually quiet Shylo, "Would you like me to order for both of us?"
"Yes, I would. Thank you." Not interested in the choice he made for her, Shylo let her trancelike gaze drift over to the window.
Frowning to himself, Dimitri placed their order. "The lady will have pork with applesauce, and I'd like lobster salad with salami of duck."
After the waitress collected the menus and went on her way, Dimitri thought of catching Shylo's attention again but decided it would be of no use. She was lost in another world, one that didn't include him. Ari, who'd left them to dine alone so they might get better acquainted, might as well have joined them, Dimitri thought, feeling hungry for conversation in addition to sustenance.
Then again, he suspected there might be another, more compelling motivation for his uncle's absence. Like many other Greek men his age, Ari had a fondness for gambling. That fondness—or weakness, depending on how you looked at it—was the main reason the old man's funds were so low at a time when he should have been enjoying his retirement without financial cares. Surely the old man wouldn't squander what little money he had in his possession on games of chance—or would he?
On his earlier excursion around town, Dimitri hadn't missed the vast assortment of saloons and houses of ill repute dotting Winslow's notorious Front Street, and he was certain that Ari hadn't, either. It was entirely possible—probable, now that Dimitri considered it—that Ari was at this very moment trying to drum up a little game of backgammon. Hoping that luck would be on his uncle's side if he should try to parlay some of their money into a bigger stake, Dimitri heaved a heavy sigh.
"Pardon me?" Shylo said, brought out of her daze. "Did you say something?"
He could have said "Yes," he supposed, and made something up, but Dimitri knew it wouldn't make much difference. Shylo still had that "not of this world" look about her, so he just smiled and shook his head, hoping that she would make him believe that she realized he was there. She didn't. Instead she turned back to the window, leaving Dimitri with a surprising revelation: he missed her crooked little smile, a gesture he hadn't seen since their kiss at the back of the train. And he missed their casual and sometimes heated conversations. He missed her.
The food arrived, and since she hadn't eaten a bite since breakfast, the sight of it alone should have brought Shylo's stomach to growling and mouth to watering, but her usually robust appetite was gone. All she could think of was Cassie. Was she warm enough out there in the great desolate unknown? Was she in pain? What would she be having for supper tonight? Or would that gang of cutthroats even bother to feed her? Everything, no matter what she tried to think or do, revolved around Cassie, the bright-eyed girl who in many ways was more daughter to Shylo than sister. The knowledge that she'd somehow failed in that responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Shylo glanced at Dimitri, who'd fallen on his food with vigor. She couldn't even concentrate well enough to enjoy his company tonight. When he spoke, his voice seemed distant, garbled, as if a great veil of water separated them. Even his image, as much as she loved to look on his classical Greek features, seemed blurred and indistinct. Shylo rubbed her tired eyes and forced herself to focus on him.
Dimitri looked up to meet her gaze then, sympathy and a bit of confusion shining in his dark eyes. She sensed that he wanted to share in her sorrow but didn't understand it. Was it possible that he'd never cared for anyone in his life the way she cared for Cassie? Maybe, she thought, touched by a finger of sadness, he'd never loved another at all. And then again maybe that wasn't such a bad way to live. If nothing else, life must hurt less that way.
Shylo glanced back out the window, wishing she could feel as detached as Dimitri always seemed to be, but it was no use. She closed her eyes, and in her heart she believed she felt Cassie's terror. When she listened hard, she swore she could almost hear her heart-wrenching screams.
* * *
At that very moment, in the cave Buck had stashed her in after he'd cut her free of her bonds, a frightened Cassie flattened herself against the wall at the deepest point of the den. Something moved. She screamed into the darkness, the sound echoing off the sandstone ledges like a cat chasing its tail.
Near the entrance, a man, lupine in appearance, moved swiftly toward her. She dropped to her knees and crawled soundlessly in the opposite direction. Glancing toward where she'd last seen his shadow, she caught the mottled silhouette of a creosote bush near the mouth of the cave, but no sign of the man.
Then, with a suddenness that took her breath away, came a savage cry. He leapt out of nowhere, leapfrogged onto her back, and threw his arms around her waist. Before Cassie could cry out again or catch her breath, he rolled her onto her side, and then tumbled with her firmly in his grasp, to the center of the den.
"Gotcha," he said, out of breath. "And that's the third time today."
"Oh, Buck, you fool." With her fingers splayed against his chest, Cassie locked her elbows and shoved. "I knew it was you the last time you snuck up on me. This time, I couldn't see who it was, and you scairt hell out of me."
"Sorry, sugar, I didn't mean to scare you. It took me a little longer than I figured it would to get my horse settled for the night, and it went and got dark on me before I could get back." He rolled over to where he'd fashioned stones into a fire ring earlier and struck a match to the sagebrush and tumbleweeds he'd gathered there. Then he rolled back toward Cassie, shifting his body until he was lying beside her, and propped himself up on one elbow. Grinning, he licked his lips and said, "But I am back now, and happy to be here. Damned if you aren't one fine-looking woman. I must be the luckiest human being in the whole wide world tonight."
Looking up at him in the glow of firelight, Cassie couldn't help but feel the same way. Buck's craterlike dimples seemed bottomless, and his eyes, whiskey- colored in the semidarkness, shone like those of a cuddly little puppy.
"Oh, Buck," she murmured. "You don't really mean all that, do you?"
"You know I do, sugar." He reached over, tugged the ribbons loose on her bonnet, and slipped it off her head. "Let me see that hair of yours—all of it, you little peppermint drop."
Blushing, Cassie sat up, took the pins from her hair, and let it fall free. It wasn't as long or thick as Shylo's, and where her older sister had curls, Cassie had almost indiscernible dips, but viewed through Buck's glowing eyes, she felt as if she had the lushest, most gorgeous tresses of any woman anywhere- even if they were pink. She shook her head, spilling those luminous locks down her back and across her shoulders.
"Damn," Buck muttered huskily. "If you ain't some sight. Tell me how you got that pink hair, sugar lips, and don't go leaving nothing out."
Toying with the length hanging off the tip of her left breast, Cassie blushed again as she said, "My sister done it. She's always trying experiments on me to make sure they're safe for her. Why, just before she done this to my hair, she put pomegranate juice all over my cheeks to try and rouge them up like those fancy high-bred ladies. I looked like a clown by the time she got done with me."
Buck laughed. "Why the hell does she do all that to you, and why do you let her?"
"Cause she was trying to look like one of them society
debutantes." She wondered briefly if she ought to keep their plans a secret but couldn't think of a good reason not to tell him. "We're searching for our mother. She ran off with some rich French fella right after I was born, leaving us girls and our pa behind in her dust."
Buck scratched his head. "Don't make much sense to me why you'd want to go looking for a mother who run off from her babies, and you ain't seen your whole entire life. I'd say good riddance."
"It was Shylo's idea—that's my sister—but no one's supposed to know it 'cause she's pretending to be someone else. Anyway, she's the one decided we ought to go after our ma. She and I got adopted by a farmer a long time ago, and when he dropped dead in the middle of harvest last fall, his wife give us part of the money she made after she sold the farm, and set us free. First thing Shylo did was study up the New York newspapers until she found a picture of our real ma with her rich husband. That's when she decided it was time to go pay her a visit, and that we had to look as rich as her, too."
Buck, who'd taken the length of hair from Cassie's fingers and wound it around his own, continued to play with the lock, occasionally brushing the back of his hand against the nipple of her left breast in the process. "And did you find your ma?"
"No, not yet." Cassie shuddered as Buck's hand grazed her bodice. Did he know what he'd done, or how it made her feel inside? Her cheeks grew hot as she admitted, "I don't much care one way or another if we never find our mother, but that's all Shylo ever thinks about. I'll bet if we do find her, she won't even want to see us."
"And what do you want, sugar?" Buck's voice was soft and low as he coaxed her back down on the blanket he'd arranged near the fire ring. "Are you hungry? I got us a nice fat rabbit in the snare. I could cook him up in no time."
Something in Cassie's throat began to quiver, but she answered him anyway. "Ah, n-not yet. Maybe later."
"Thirsty?" Buck went on, still fondling that lock of hair and the breast beneath it. "I got a canteen full of water, but I also got some whiskey and a little mescal. I could warm you up from the inside out." He shivered as he realized what he'd said.
Cassie missed the innuendo. She was too caught up in the way Buck's fingers felt as they skimmed her bodice time and time again and the way those caresses, in turn, made her insides feel. "I—no thanks. I don't want anything right now."
"Well, I sure as hell do." There. It was out in the open, bold and forthright. Since he had no idea what he was doing to start with, Buck proceeded in the same manner. "Listen, sugar—I ain't got much time, two, three days at the most. If I don't head out by then, I'm afraid my horse will drop dead from starvation. Ain't much out here for him to eat, you know."
Cassie looked him straight in the eye, knowing he was asking something of her, not entirely sure what that something might be. "What are you trying to say to me, Buck?"
"I want you to be my girl." He took off his hat and flattened it across his heart. "I love you, Cassie, I do. I've loved you from the minute I set eyes on you aboard that train. I want you to be mine, all mine, for whatever time we got together. Whaddaya say? I need you, girl, I need you real bad."
Buck looked distressed, and he was breathing hard enough to have chased down their supper rabbit on foot. Then Cassie realized that she was short of breath, too. Could it mean what she hoped it did? Could it be that Buck "Dilly the Kid" was her own true Prince Charming, bad boy grin and all? He had come to her riding a big white horse, swept her into his arms as she lay unconscious, and then carried her off into the sunset. Who else could he be?
"Oh, Bucky," Cassie said through a breathless sigh. "I—I think I love you, too. What is it you want me to do?"
Buck slipped his hand beneath the nape of her neck and lifted her head until her lips practically met his. "I ain't exactly sure, sugar face, but I have a feeling that between the two of us, we'll get it figured out."
* * *
On the third morning after her sister's kidnapping, Shylo's nerves were stretched tighter than her last dollar. Nights were the worst, when she could almost swear she heard Cassie crying out and moaning... and dying, she feared. She couldn't take it one more day—or night. After slipping out of her room fully dressed, she crept down the hall to the room Dimitri shared with Ari and knocked softly. She waited a few moments, and then knocked again. Finally, as she raised her fist to tap on the door one more time, it opened a crack.
His eyes smarting from the glare of the hallway lamp, Dimitri squinted to identify his late-night visitor. "Shylo. What are you doing up at this hour?"
"It isn't that all-fired early. Sunup's only about an hour off." She glanced up and down the hall. "Are you fellas decent enough for me to come in a minute?"
Dimitri glanced down at himself. "Give me a second."
The door closed, then opened again a few moments later. He'd slipped into a pair of black trousers and was still hastily buttoning a white dress shirt as she stepped inside the room. She couldn't help but notice that he quit the task before he reached the top two buttons, leaving his shirt to gape open at the throat. Between the glimpse of ebony curls that covered Dimitri's chest and the intriguing sight of his sleep-tousled hair, Shylo almost forgot why she'd come to him in the first place. She quickly looked away and glanced around the room. That's when she saw that Ari's bed was empty and made up.
"Where is your uncle?" she asked.
"I don't know for sure. Gambling, I think," he said, but Dimitri was far more concerned about the reasons for Shylo's visit and the impropriety of his entertaining her alone in his room. "Is something wrong? Why are you here so early?"
"I—it's..." Anxious to get on with it and get going, Shylo didn't waste time. "I can't take it anymore. I can't stand all this waiting for sheriffs that never show, and wondering if Cassie's all right or if she's... dead."
Once she'd finally put words to her worst fear, it was like kicking a hole in a beaver dam. Shylo burst into tears. "Oh, God, Dimitri. What if she is dead? I can't take the not knowing, the wondering about what's happening or already happened to her. I can't take it anymore."
Dimitri pulled her into his arms, in spite of the way it might look should Ari burst into the room at that moment. "Don't do this to yourself, Shylo," he whispered, calling her by her given name for the first time. "You're worrying yourself sick over what might be. Since we're pretty sure the bandits took your friend to use for bartering in case the law caught up with them, she probably hasn't been harmed in the slightest. For all we know, she's perfectly safe."
As he spoke, Shylo allowed herself the comfort of Dimitri's strong arms and even felt herself being lulled by the warmth of his chest and the rhythmic sound of his heart beating against her cheek. When she digested what he had said, she pulled away from that calm shelter. "Safe? A lone woman in the company of nine gunmen? Even you don't believe that."
Spinning away from him, for she never could think straight when Dimitri was too close, Shylo went on. "I didn't come here to guess at what's happened to Cassie, or argue with you about it, either." She faced him again. "I came to tell you that I can't sit around waiting for the sheriff to show up any longer. I've got to go do something."
"I couldn't agree with you more. If you're ready to wire the president, I'm with you one hundred percent. Just give me a minute to get my boots on."
"The pres—no. That's not what I had in mind. I'm on my way to the livery to rent a horse. I've got to go see what happened to Cassie for myself."
Dimitri was in the midst of tugging on a sock, and he paused there, balancing on one leg as he said, "That's ridiculous. Not only would such a foolish trip be a waste of time and money, it's a very dangerous idea." He jerked the sock fully over his foot, and then stood with his hands on his hips. "Have you looked at the countryside around Winslow? There's nothing for miles and miles in every direction."
"That's exactly my point." Shylo began to retreat. "What if the bandits noticed there's no posse after them, turned Cassie loose once she was no use to them, and left her wander
ing around in the desert by herself? What if she's out there dying as we speak?"
Dimitri moved closer. "That's an awful lot to assume."
"But it could be true. Don't you see? I can't not do something, and I won't." Shylo took another step backward and bumped against the door. Reaching behind her, she felt for the knob. "Nothing you can say or do is going to keep me from going. I only came by to ask you if you'd care to meet me at the livery. I'd just as soon not have to go alone." She tugged the door open.
"Wait." Dimitri bought a moment for himself, weighing the consequences of what he was about to do against his better judgment. Then he realized it didn't make a damn bit of difference what he thought. He'd been around Shylo long enough to know that one way or another, with or without him, she was going to make the trip.
With a sigh of defeat, or maybe even admiration, Dimitri rubbed his hands across his sleepy eyes and said, "Go down to the kitchen and ask them to prepare us a big basket of food—enough for all day. And lots of strong coffee. I'll meet you there in one minute."
"You'll... go with me?"
"I hope I'll live to regret it, but yes. I'll go with you."
Beside herself with gratitude, Shylo rushed back into the room and threw herself into Dimitri's arms. Tears sparkled in her blue eyes, but this time they were tears of joy. "You won't regret it. I swear to God you won't." Then she pulled herself up to his surprised mouth and kissed him with all her might.
* * *
It took them better than two hours to round up the supplies Dimitri insisted they bring along with them: a pick, a shovel, and a barrel of water were among the essentials, along with the picnic basket and coffee. Instead of a horse, they rented a sturdy mule and well-made wagon to transport their supplies and, should they come across her, Cassie. The liveryman, sympathetic to their cause, tossed in a pair of thick horse blankets to use as padding for the wooden seat Shylo and Dimitri shared and lent them his rifle for protection should they happen upon trouble.
