by Carol Finch
The attractive widow had made a name for herself in town and she was doing a thriving business. Adolph had considered courting her, but he hadn’t wanted a pesky child underfoot. His mother had told him hundreds of times what a nuisance he was and he wasn’t about to put up with someone else’s brat.
While the two older women studied the bolts of fabrics on display, Jennifer Grantham approached him. “May I help you with something, sir?”
Adolph shrugged elegantly, though it caused a twinge in his mending shoulder. “I’m looking for a gift for a lady friend. Perhaps a bracelet or necklace.”
“Any particular color?” Mrs. Grantham gestured toward the glass case beside the cash register at the back of the shop.
“No, just something that catches my eye.” He followed her, watching the sway of her hips beneath the expertly tailored blue gown.
While she placed several items on the counter, Adolph studied her discreetly. She wore a carefully schooled expression that gave away none of her personal feelings for him. It was difficult to determine if Rachel St. Raimes had confided in Jennifer Grantham about the fiasco in the storeroom and had influenced the shop owner’s opinion of him.
“These are nice.” Adolph pointed out two necklaces. One for his new mistress and the other to clamp around Rachel’s neck while she was wearing nothing else when he finally had her in captivity.
And damn those three morons he’d sent to track her down! They still hadn’t overtaken that elusive hellion.
Mrs. Grantham named the prices of the items and Adolph retrieved his wallet to pay without blinking an eye.
He laid the bank notes on the counter, then glanced around the shop. “What has become of the woman who works for you?” he asked with what he hoped was mild interest. “Is she ailing?”
“No,” was all the petite blonde shopkeeper said while she made change.
Adolph mentally cursed Jennifer Grantham’s unwillingness to offer him information. “Now that I think of it, I don’t remember seeing her around town the past month.”
“She left town and I haven’t heard from her,” Mrs. Grantham said finally. “I’m looking for a replacement that is as efficient and skilled as she was.”
Although Adolph pretended to stare at the change Jennifer Grantham counted out to him, he was studying her expression beneath his lowered lashes. Damn it, he was pretty certain that the shopkeeper was telling the truth. She didn’t look as if she was purposely withholding information.
She simply didn’t like him, he decided.
Obviously, those whispered rumors about the circumstances surrounding his dead mistress weren’t winning him friends. Not that he gave a damn. Money purchased all the acquaintances and harlots a man needed until he tired of their company.
Except for Rachel. He had unfinished business with that scrappy female who had made him look the bungling fool when he tried to coerce her into bed with him.
It’s only a matter of time, Adolph assured himself confidently as he picked up the jewelry and exited the shop. He vowed to hear Rachel begging him to take her. The appealing thought aroused him and he sauntered off to let his new mistress appease his lust for the elusive woman who got away.
Nate surveyed the quaint community known as Possum Grove. It sat on the bank of a clear-water creek in a copse of tall cottonwood trees. Apparently, the local beautification club members had taken it upon themselves to provide the flower gardens and rosebushes that surrounded the park swings and teeter-totters set up for children.
Judging from the businesses that lined the street facing the creek-side park, the community catered mostly to farmers, ranchers and trail drovers on their way to Dodge City to deliver their cattle herds to the main railhead for shipment to slaughterhouses in the East. There were feed stores, two blacksmith shops, a general store, a bakery, a boutique, three restaurants and four saloons that advertised the additional entertainment of billiard rooms and gaming halls—and who knew what else—on the second story.
Two hotels bookended Main Street. They appeared well maintained, though they didn’t begin to compare to the elegant establishments in Kansas City where Brody Montgomery held his annual social ball—and tried to arrange a betrothal for his youngest son.
“Something wrong?” Rachel questioned while she sat on the wagon seat beside him.
“No, just thinking unpleasant thoughts that sprang up uninvited from my past.” He guided the horses and wagon along the shaded street. “I usually prefer to keep the past dead and buried.”
“I can’t think of a better place for it myself,” she inserted.
“Unfortunately, some vivid memories have a nasty way of sneaking up on you when you let your guard down.”
“Indeed they do,” she agreed.
Nate clamped down on his tongue when questions about her secretive past leaped to mind. Rachel intrigued him and he wanted to know everything about her. What circumstances had made her the woman she had become? Had a man from her mysterious past made her wary, cautious and mistrusting? Where was her family?
Was she interested in him or had he simply managed to seduce her into yielding to him at a weak moment last night when the passion he aroused in her tempted her past the point of resistance?
The scintillating memory of coming so incredibly close to burying himself in Rachel’s moist heat bombarded him. The hungry need that had gone appeased throbbed heavily through his body. Hell! Wanting her and wanting to know all about her was coloring all his thoughts. Why couldn’t he get Rachel off his mind? He usually had more mental control than that.
Nate sighed inwardly and told himself that his fascination for this exotic-looking female was going nowhere fast. He had an investigation to conduct in Dodge City and Rachel was determined to continue her gypsy lifestyle as an entertainer and assistant in Doc’s medicine show. The longer Nate traveled with them, hanging in limbo, the more emotionally involved he became with Rachel. That wasn’t good and he knew it.
“I’m going to remain with the show while you perform in Possum Grove and then travel with you to Evening Shade,” he announced. “Then I’m headed to Dodge City to take another job.”
He halted the wagon on the side street next to a two-story brick hotel. It looked to be the nicer of the two, he decided.
He watched Rachel closely. He noted a flicker in her obsidian eyes, but he couldn’t tell if the announcement pleased or disappointed her.
After a moment, she smiled nonchalantly. “Why delay? You should be on your way now. Your new life and a new profession await you. Doc and I can manage just fine. Besides, Ludy is around here somewhere.”
Nate didn’t correct her assumption that he had given up law enforcement. She’d run like hell in the opposite direction if she knew he was still a U.S. marshal, he predicted.
When he reached over to steady her when she climbed down, she avoided his touch. In other words, she didn’t need his help. Didn’t need him in her life.
Not mattering to Rachel aggravated him. If he had any sense he would march down the street to one of the saloons and find an accommodating female to ease his needs. No doubt, Ludy Anderson was seeing to his personal pleasures in one of the rooms above a saloon. He damn sure wasn’t depriving himself.
Too bad that Nate’s interests centered on a certain secretive, dark-eyed beauty who had the voice of an angel but who had already written him off as a past acquaintance.
“I’m going to stop by the marshal’s office,” he said in a clipped voice, unable to smother his frustration.
“I’ll rent our rooms for the night.” Rachel didn’t glance in his direction. “I’ll see to it that Doc beds down for extra rest to compensate for ingesting too much of his own fifty-proof nostrums again last night.”
“We’re short on a few basic supplies. I’ll pick them up at the dry-goods store on my way back to the hotel,” Nate volunteered.
“Thank you. Charge them to Doc and I’ll come by to pay for them this afternoon.”
Nate turned
away when Rachel scurried around to the back of the wagon to rouse Doc, who was lounging on a pallet. Making a beeline for the marshal’s office, Nate strode inside to appraise the young marshal who lounged behind the desk. The officer had rocked back on the hind legs of his chair and rested his boot heels on the corner of the scarred desk. His hands were linked behind his curly brown head and a shiny new badge decorated his shirt. The officer was in his mid-twenties, Nate guessed. The kid-marshal’s expression implied that he thought he was tough and owned the world.
He had a helluva lot to learn.
“I’m here to file a formal complaint against the men who robbed me and stole my horse.” Nate placed his hands on the desk and got down in the kid’s face. “I gave descriptions of the men to Marshal Stocker in Crossville and I requested that the circuit judge sign bench warrants. When will the judge pass through Possum Grove?”
The kid’s hazel eyes widened when Nate employed the domineering tone his father was famous for. “Ah, sure, mister. I’ll, uh, get some paper.”
Nate shook his head and swallowed an amused grin. “No, you’ll get the standard written forms from the file cabinet and fill them out because that’s customary procedure.”
“How come you know so much about my business?” the kid asked challengingly.
Nate walked over to the cabinet to rifle through the forms. “Because I was a city marshal before I became a U.S. marshal.” He thrust the forms at the wide-eyed kid. “Three men. One of them was about your age and your size.”
The young marshal started scribbling hurriedly.
“How long have you been on the job?” Nate asked curiously.
“Four days. I’m filling in for my grandpa. His horse threw him and he’s recuperating. I’m Phillip Dexter.”
Nate rolled his eyes heavenward, asking for divine patience, then gave descriptions of his assailants. He told himself that it wasn’t the greenhorn marshal who agitated him.
It was wanting Rachel like hell blazing that preyed so heavily on his disposition. Knowing that he was leaving soon, and Rachel didn’t seem to care, put him in a surly mood—and kept him there.
Rachel shepherded Doc up the stairs and into his hotel room. “The attendants will be along soon to bring water for your bath,” she informed him.
Doc nodded his disheveled head, then dug into his pocket to hand her a roll of banknotes. “Pay for the rooms and give yourself a bonus for putting up with me. Give Nate his fair share, too.”
She had noticed immediately after she’d joined Doc Grant on his circuit that a lack of funds was not an issue. He paid her generously, even though she’d had a small supply of money in her purse—plus the banknotes she had taken from Adolph’s wallet to pay for her dress—when she left Dodge posthaste.
“Nate offered to pick up a few supplies to restock the wagon so I’ll pay for it later.” She guided Doc to the bed and he sprawled upon it.
“Buy yourself some new clothes while you’re in town,” he suggested. “Women always like a new gown or stylish hat. My—” He clamped his lips shut, then shooed her on her way with a flick of his wrist. “We’ll open the show late this afternoon. Until then, you’re free to do whatever you want.”
Tucking away the money Doc had entrusted to her, Rachel descended the steps to fetch their luggage. She shrank back and plastered herself against the side of the wagon when she saw Adolph’s henchmen exit the local boutique four doors down the street.
Immediate panic set in and her heart pounded like a tom-tom while she watched Max Rother, Bob Hanes and Warren Lamont swagger down the boardwalk to veer into one of the saloons.
Curse it! Those bullies still hadn’t given up their search. She would never be able to stop looking over her shoulder, waiting for her past to catch up with her.
The moment the men disappeared from sight Rachel sagged against the wagon and expelled a gusty sigh of relief. She grabbed the luggage, ducked her head and scampered back to the hotel as fast as her legs would carry her.
From the second story-window of her room, which overlooked the street, she waited for the men to reappear. However, ten minutes passed and she saw nothing of them. She presumed they were drinking their fill or had latched on to harlots who agreed to accompany them upstairs to trip the light fantastic.
Rachel knew that particular routine because she had witnessed it numerous times while she had worked in a tavern in Leadville, Colorado. Hubert Solomon, owner of the Golden Goose, had told his “girls” that they were hired to engage miners and prospectors in conversation, flirt and dance with them for a quarter of a dollar—that was paid directly to Hubert—and encourage them to buy drinks. He had paid Rachel additional wages to sing and dance for his customers.
Thankfully, Hubert had made it clear that he didn’t expect his “girls” to entertain men in the upstairs rooms. However, several of the barmaids were eager to engage in amorous pursuits if the price was right. Rachel wasn’t one of them. She never accompanied men upstairs.
Dealing with inebriated patrons who refused to take no for an answer had taught her how to defend herself quickly and efficiently. It turned out to be good practice for her fiasco with Adolph Turner. The pushy, overbearing bastard, she fumed.
Mentally preoccupied, Rachel knocked on Doc’s door, then barged inside without awaiting permission. She heard a squawk erupt from behind the dressing screen. Water sloshed on the floor as Doc poked his disheveled head around the edge of the colorful screen to glare at her.
“I’m bathing!” he huffed. “Try knocking next time.”
“Sorry…I don’t like this town much,” she blurted out. “Let’s rest in our rooms for a few hours, then continue on our way to Evening Shade.”
“We’ve already paid for the rooms,” Doc reminded her. “Furthermore, there are likely citizens here who are in need of medical attention. I intend for them to receive it. I might save a life. That matters, girl. It’s the ones you lose that haunt you forever. Believe me.”
“Save one life and lose my own,” she mumbled to herself.
Doc frowned curiously. “Pardon?”
“Nothing, Doc. I’ll have someone fetch us some food from the restaurant. We’ll catch up on lost sleep before we set up for today’s show.”
Rachel closed the door behind her, then groaned when a troubling thought bombarded her. Nate! He might happen on to the three men who had attacked him. If she tried to help him apprehend them, she would expose her identity and give away her whereabouts. Adolph—if he was still alive and kicking—would be hot on her trail.
On the other hand, if Nate didn’t stumble on to Adolph’s goons, and she kept silent about their presence in town, then he wouldn’t run the risk of another brutal attack when he tried to arrest them. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t receive restitution for the loss of his horse, his personal belongings and his money, either.
However, she was dying to know if Adolph had survived. “Maybe dying isn’t the best word,” she mumbled as she paced the hallway, debating with herself about what action to take—if any.
“See what happens when you keep secrets?” she grumbled as she descended the stairs to ask one of the hotel attendants to fetch food for their lunch. Keeping secrets compounded on top of one another. They became entangled and they complicated a person’s life to the extreme.
Rachel was deeply concerned about Nate running headlong into the brutes. If she informed him of the men’s presence in town, her life would be in jeopardy, too.
She stopped breathing when she saw Nate exit the marshal’s office, then veer toward the same saloon the men had entered twenty minutes earlier. She waited, expecting to hear shouts or gunfire. Nothing happened. She sagged in relief when Nate reappeared a minute later, carrying a bottle of whiskey—and it better not be for Doc because he didn’t need to stock up. Rachel was doing her best to fill Doc’s embossed bottles of patented remedies with water.
Apparently, Adolph’s henchmen had latched on to willing prostitutes and had traipsed upstairs
to ease their lusty needs. Nate and the three men had missed a confrontation by a few minutes. Her luck had held—for now.
Whirling around, Rachel bounded upstairs to pace the floorboards in her room. She had to keep Nate off the street while the bullying threesome was running around loose. In addition, she couldn’t perform with the medicine show until she knew for certain that the men had left town. If they recognized her…She grimaced at the gruesome scenarios that leaped to mind.
Hell and damnation! Why did those three men have to show up in this particular town of all days? Why not tomorrow when she was on her way to Evening Shade?
Rachel told herself that she was going to have to do something drastic to protect Nate from potential danger and to save herself. Those ruffians wouldn’t leave an eyewitness alive to point an accusing finger at them for assault and thievery.
It wasn’t that she didn’t think Nate was competent, but look what had happened to him when he faced three-to-one odds with those brutes last time they clashed.
Tensely, she watched Nate stride into the general store to restock supplies for the wagon. She waited apprehensively for the three men to exit the saloon. Thirty minutes later the men still hadn’t returned to the street when Nate strode toward the hotel with the supplies. She breathed a gigantic sigh of relief, assured that Nate was safe for the moment. Of course, she would have to distract him until those ruthless bastards rode off to another town to search for her.
No matter what, he was not leaving his room, she told herself resolutely. Not until Adolph’s thugs rode away!
Nate stopped at the front desk of the hotel to order water for a bath. While the attendants trooped upstairs to fill the tub, he strode off to send a telegram to his brother, Ethan, asking him to ship clothing, money and his spare badge to Nate in Dodge City. He also insisted that Ethan not mention the telegram or request to their father. Nate didn’t want his father showing up to check on him. Or rather to order him to return home and settle down with a wife of Brody’s choosing again.
