With Elias, though....
A soft snore met her ears and Idalee glanced up to see Storm's head cushioned against the side of the high back chair. She smiled tenderly, then turned quickly when she heard a pair of high heels tapping down the hallway. Before the person approaching could knock on the door and wake Storm, Idalee slipped outside and reached for the tray of lemonade.
"I'll take it, Sassy," she said to the sleepy-eyed woman wearing only a chemise and pantelets above her dangerously high-heeled shoes. "Where's Elias?"
"Oh, he's fixing one of his concoctions in the kitchen, mum," the woman replied in a decidedly British accent. "I went in to get a drink of water and he asked me to bring this to you."
"You're up awfully early, Sassy."
"Not up, mum. Just thirsty. I'm going on back to bed now. I do so enjoy it when I have my bed all to myself."
"Why, Sassy," Idalee said with a smile. "I thought you enjoyed it when you shared your bed also."
Sassy's lips curved up and her blue eyes took on a small sparkle. "That I do, mum," she said, but almost immediately she frowned slightly. "Well, most of the time, anyway."
"Sassy, you know you have the right to refuse anyone you want to here."
"I know, mum. But needs my tips, I do."
"I've offered to loan you the money to bring your son over from England."
"To what, mum? No, not yet. When he comes, it's going to be to a place far away from here, where nobody knows me."
"I understand, Sassy." Idalee shifted the tray in her hand and reached for the doorknob behind her. "For now, you better go on back to bed and get your beauty sleep. You've only got a couple hours left, and men don't tip a girl with circles under her eyes very well."
"Right you are, mum."
Idalee watched for a second as Sassy walked away, waiting until she rounded the corner in the hallway before opening the door. Sassy liked to talk a lot, and she wouldn't put it past the woman to remember something she wanted to discuss and turn back to do just that. Today Sassy's sleepiness overcame her desire to talk, though, because the woman didn't hesitate as she made her way down the stairwell leading to her second floor room.
Closing the door softly behind her, Idalee walked silently over to a table to set the tray down. An ice cube in the crystal glass beside the pitcher shifted, tinkling loudly in the quiet room. She felt as much as heard Storm come to immediate alertness, and when she turned back, his black eyes met hers without a sign of drowsiness.
"Storm, you know you don't have to be afraid here. No one saw you come in, did they?"
"'Course not, Idy. But some things just become ingrained in a man."
"I don't need to ask what you mean by that," Idalee said with a sigh. "But you're so tired. Why don't you have your lemonade and then lie down on my bed for a nap? I've got some things to do below and everyone here has strict orders not to enter my quarters uninvited."
"Even Elias, Idy?"
Idalee ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks and turned back to the pitcher of lemonade. A little sloshed over the side of the glass when she poured it with a slightly shaking hand, but she wiped it on a linen napkin and turned to hand it to Storm without speaking again.
Storm took a long swallow and sighed contentedly as he leaned back in the chair again.
"You know, Idy," he continued as though not aware of the embarrassment his words caused the small woman, "I just don't understand it. Why, Elias cooks well enough to have a fine restaurant somewhere. And I've never seen two people who are meant for each other more than you two. Seems a shame you're both buried out here in the wilderness. You always did have a yen for the finer side of life. I remember more than once when I had to literally pull you away from the fashion magazines each time a new one arrived in the dress shop."
Idalee abruptly turned away from him and flounced over to her bed. She grabbed the newel post holding up the canopy and kept her back to Storm when she spoke.
"No, you don't understand, Storm," she threw over her shoulder. "These girls need me. Why, there's not a one of them who isn't working toward getting a better life for herself. They don't stay here long. I know Sassy's got almost enough money saved to bring her son over from England and start a little business of her own somewhere. And I'll bet my corset that Catarina's going to end up leaving with Eddie when he finally gets up nerve enough to break away from that arrogant uncle of his and buy his own spread. Besides...."
Her voice fell to a whisper, but Storm caught her words. "...he hasn't asked me."
Storm rose to his feet and drained his glass before he set it down beside the pitcher. On cat soft feet, he crossed the room and folded his arms around Idalee. When she turned and buried her face on his chest, he tightened his arms and dropped a kiss on her red-gold curls.
"Maybe you ought to do the asking, Idy," he said in a soft voice. "Seems to me it shouldn't always have to be the man's responsibility to ask. We're just as afraid of getting turned down as we can be."
Idalee shook her head against his chest. "Oh, I couldn't," she breathed. She drew her head back and stared into his dark eyes. "I couldn't, could I?"
Storm raised a hand and caressed her cheek with his index finger. "Just think on it, Idy," he said. "Time doesn't stand still for anyone. Days pass and turn into years, and neither one of us is getting any younger. You have to decide if this is the way you want to spend the rest of your life, just because you want to rub their noses in the embarrassment you're causing them. Or if you want to reach for the things we dreamed about when we were kids."
Storm dropped his arms and turned to look out the window. "And speaking of time passing, I better get going. You might be surprised, but it's a whole lot easier slipping in and out of town in a crowd than it is after dark. Guess people just aren't as much on guard."
"Storm, don't go," Idalee said as she reached out to grasp his arm. "You need to rest a while. And I can cut your hair and get you some decent clothes before you go."
"Can't, Idy," he said with a negative shake of his head. "No matter what you think, it's not safe for me here. I just stopped by to let you know I was around and thank you for all you've done."
Idalee sighed hopelessly as she watched him walk over to the wall of the room and push gently on one of the sections of panelled wood. The doorway to the hidden passageway opened on silent hinges.
"Storm," she said, trying to hold him a moment longer. "Isn't there anything else I can do?"
Storm paused, hand still on the doorway. "Well, there might be one thing."
"What?" she said eagerly. "There's got to be a way we can clear your name."
"That's not what I meant, Idy. There's only one way to do that, and I'm not sure I have the right to ask that of her." His soft voice took on a thread of steel. "But one way or the other, I'm gonna break the hold those bastards have on this valley. If it means seeing them dead to do it, then so be it. They've already made me an outlaw. Might as well have the satisfaction of at least earning that reputation myself."
"Storm," Idalee said with a gasp. "That's not you talking!"
Storm caught himself abruptly and smiled across the room at Idalee. "Don't worry, honey. I haven't totally given up yet. Anyway, what I was talking about a moment ago. Do you think you might talk Elias into taking you for a ride tomorrow afternoon?"
Idalee tried to sort out her thoughts at his abrupt change of subject. "A ride? Why...why, I guess so. We do that sometimes."
"Have you seen anyone new ride into town today?" he questioned her.
"New? Whatever are you talking about, Storm? Well," she admitted when he continued to stare at her in silence. "Well, I did see a man and woman ride in today. The man was older, but the woman was awfully pretty. In fact, they stopped right here under my window for a moment and seemed to be looking at my flowers. Then they went on into town."
Storm again — to Idalee's mind — abruptly changed the subject. "You remember that waterhole where we used to swim when we were kids? Think you co
uld ride out that way?"
"Of course I remember it, Storm. Why wouldn't I? And yes, it's a pretty ride out that way, and I'm sure Elias wouldn't mind. But whatever for?"
"I spotted a good looking roan stallion and another horse grazing out that way when I came by. The stallion's bred too well to be a mustang and my guess is he belongs to someone. You might ask that woman who rode in with her friend if she knows anything about those horses when you get them back to town."
"You come back here and explain yourself!" Idalee said with a stamp of her foot as he ducked inside the door. "Storm B...."
His head reappeared, cutting off her words. "I've asked you not to call me that, Idy," he said quietly just before he disappeared again.
Idalee ran across the room, but she already knew he wouldn't be there when she pushed the door open again. She stared down the receding passageway into the dimness, her mind filled with questions. But one thought came to the forefront.
"What about you, Storm?" she whispered into the silence. "When will you be able to reach for the dreams we shared with each other years ago?"
Then, "I love you, Storm," she called quietly into the dimness. Somehow it didn't matter that she didn't dare speak loudly enough for him to hear. Somehow he would know.
Chapter 8
Jessica walked into the bank the next morning, a determined step to her stride. She couldn't wait to get out of this town. The only happy person she had met was Eloise, who caught every eye in the dining room last evening as she served the meals. She hadn't thought to ask Eloise how close her wedding day was, but it must be soon. The blonde had bubbled and smiled at every diner, though once in a while she stared off into space, a dreamy expression on her face.
And today the man had promised her Cinnabar. He hadn't said how, though. Would he deliver the stallion to town? If so, she probably should delay their departure for a while, to give him a chance. Or maybe she would find Cinnabar on the trail. Would the man be with him?
A rancher in worn clothing stepped away from the teller window in front of Jessica, his shoulders slumped and a shattered expression on his face. Immediately a similarly dressed man moved out of line at the other window and laid an arm across the rancher's shoulders.
"Baker wouldn't let you extend, huh, Cam?"
"No," the rancher called Cam replied in a tortured voice. "The hell of it is, I could've paid what I thought it was I owed. But he said there were extra charges I agreed to in that paper I signed. I only wanted another month to pay them, but the teller said Baker wouldn't give it to me."
"Miss? Miss, you're next."
Jessica shook her head sadly in response to the overheard conversation as she stepped up to the window. A few seconds later, she stared at the teller behind the barred window in rage.
"What do you mean you can't let me have my money? I gave you authority yesterday to wire my bank and have the funds transferred. I wish to make a withdrawal immediately!"
"I'm sorry, Miss," the teller explained again in a patient voice. "There are no funds. Mr. Baker always handles that sort of thing and he'd have been the one to wire your bank. He hasn't notified me of any money to be released to you."
"Then I want to see this Mr. Baker immediately," Jessica fumed. "In fact, I asked to see him yesterday, but he apparently wasn't available. I insist on seeing him now!"
"Mr. Baker didn't come in until after you left yesterday, Miss Callaghan," the teller replied. "But he is in now and I'll ask him if he can see you."
"You will not ask," Jessica informed him. "You will tell him that I demand to see him!"
The man slouched against the door of the office located in the rear of the bank straightened and his lips curved into a smile under his blond mustache. This might be interesting. Things were running so smoothly these days, he could use a little excitement in his life.
He frowned slightly. Well, almost everything, but he could handle that later. Right now, a sable haired vixen with a body that made his hands itch stood in front of the teller's cage, patting her foot in anger. Wonder what it would take to turn that temper into the fiery passion he could sense under that lushly feminine exterior? It had been too long since any woman challenged his sense of masculinity.
"I'll take over now, Parkins," he called as he made his way across the room. "Harlin Baker, at your service, Miss," he said when Jessica swung around to fix him with a furious glare from eyes he found a delightful shade of warm brown. Though he could make out the golden flecks in them caused by her anger, they only highlighted a face that was a perfect match for that beautiful body.
"And who might you be, Miss?" he questioned with a raise of his brows.
"As if you couldn't hear the teller call me by name perfectly well," Jessica informed him with a haughty look. "You office is close enough to this teller window for that."
"I apologize, Miss Callaghan." Baker cupped his hand across his stomach and bowed. "It's a delight to see someone as lovely as you in our town. It's been much too dreary here lately."
"I'm not interested in what you think of my looks, Mr. Baker. I'm only interested in withdrawing the funds I had transferred here from my bank back in Wyoming and getting some supplies so I can be on my way. But you are right about one thing. This is a dreary little town."
Though he normally wouldn't have, Baker ignored the slur on the town — Baker town. Instead, he made his position in the town clear by allowing his pale blue eyes to wander over her and drink their fill.
Jessica drew in her breath with a gasp of indignation when his eyes lingered on her breasts, encased again in the tight bodice of her dark blue dress. Her palms itched with the desire to slap the smug sneer from the full lips partially hidden by the blond mustache. Only Ned's muttered "Jes" of warning stilled her right arm when it came up in preparation of doing just that.
Satisfied with Jessica's reaction, Baker's eyes went cold and he turned abruptly. "If you'll follow me, Miss Callaghan, we'll continue our discussion in the privacy of my office. There seems to be a slight problem over the transfer of funds you requested."
"Problem?" Jessica furiously stomped after him. She heard Ned following behind her, his limping steps hurrying to catch her.
At the door of his office, Baker paused and turned. "You might wish to have this discussion alone, Miss Callaghan," he said when he saw Ned beside Jessica. "After all, cowhands aren't usually invited into business discussions."
Jessica's head rose proudly and she cupped her hand into Ned's arm. "Ned is my foreman and my friend," she informed Baker in a steady voice. "There's nothing I keep private from him."
Jessica heard Ned give an almost silent snort and turned to meet his bemused gaze. The words of their conversation the previous day crept into her mind and, for just a second, she found the face before her fading. In its place she saw a dark, much younger countenance and felt a whisper of air tinted with a vaguely comforting masculine odor feather around her face.
Jessica quickly shook her head to clear it and looked back at Baker. "Ned will be joining us, Mr. Baker."
"As you wish," Baker said with a shrug. He led the way into his office and motioned for Jessica and Ned to take the chairs in front of his desk.
"No, thank you," Jessica said. "This won't take but a moment. I just need to know how soon my funds will be available for me."
Baker lowered his own body into the padded chair behind the desk before he faced her, with eyes faintly hooded.
"I guess that will depend upon how soon you can arrange for your mortgage payment on your ranch back in Wyoming to be paid, Miss Callaghan."
"What's that got to do with it?" Jessica asked. "That payment's not due for almost another month yet."
"Oh, yes," Baker mused. "I do seem to recall Mr. Olson's telegram stating that. But it also stated that he seems to have some doubt of your being able to make that payment. Therefore, he's put a hold on the funds you have deposited with him to assure he's not left totally without at least a portion of his money. You see, my dear
, banks have to be careful about losing money. After all, the money we loan out does, in truth, belong to our depositors."
"He can't do that!" Jessica gasped. "He has no right!"
"Oh, probably not legally," Baker admitted. "But ethically, he has to protect his other depositors. I imagine he'd lose a court case over this matter, but you'll have to return to Wyoming and get an attorney to fight it for you."
"But that might take months! And by then I'll have the mortgage payment made. I need funds now to get supplies for my men."
"I'm sorry, Miss Callaghan," Baker said in a voice that belied just that. "There's nothing I can do. By the way, what is it that brings you to Baker's Valley? Surely it's not business that can't be taken care of later."
"It...it's not really business," Jessica said in a distracted voice. The worry in her mind crowded out the thought that Baker had no right to question her presence in the valley.
"It's...it's land," she said, giving him the story she and Ned had decided to use while they searched. "I thought maybe to sell out in Wyoming and start again here."
"There's no land available here, Miss Callaghan," Baker told her in a flat voice. "You might as well look elsewhere — perhaps far south of here."
"Why, of course there is," Jessica said in astonishment. "We rode over a lot of land on the way here with no one on it. We passed a few scattered, smaller ranches, but there's thousands of acres of vacant land."
"Some of that land belongs to the Indians," Baker informed her. "Though I have no idea why our government gave anything at all to those damned redskins instead of just completely annihilating them. And some of the land's free range, which the government has no intentions of selling. The smaller ranches holding on around here don't have enough acreage to even be profitable."
"Then why don't they use the free range?"
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