by Paty Jager
She started to turn around to protest, however, the look on his face made her swing back around and march to the door. Once they were outside, she faced him.
“We can’t sign in as husband and wife. That means—” she felt her cheeks heat. “That means we’ll be sharing a room.”
“What sleeping next to me under the stars is better than in a room?” The smile on his face didn’t light up his eyes. His attention was focused on the man exiting the building.
She shivered. It was the man who accosted her the night before.
“Come on.” Zeke untied her horse and lifted her onto the saddle before swinging up on the back of his gelding. He started down the street, and she followed not wanting to be left behind for that man to grab her again.
She glanced over her shoulder.
The man stared right back at her, leering.
Maybe pretending to be married to Zeke wasn’t such a bad idea.
Chapter 9
“I’ll get you settled in a room and take the horses to the livery,” Zeke said, pulling the bedroll and saddlebag from his horse.
Maeve stared at the three-story-high, huge, square building. A balcony ran around the second story. It was the biggest building she’d ever laid eyes on. When she stood staring, Zeke came around and gathered her bedroll and saddlebag.
“You never see a building before,” he asked, taking her by the elbow and heading for the entrance.
“Not one this big.” They stepped through the doors and she stopped. “Or this fancy.”
Zeke escorted her to a large, ornately carved counter. In the middle of the lobby sat a wood stove with several men in chairs chatting. They stopped long enough to rake a look at the pair, before talking again.
The man behind the counter smiled congenially. “Welcome to Umatilla House.”
“Thanks. My wife and I’d like a room on the second floor.” Zeke signed the large book on the counter. The way he said ‘my wife’ hummed in Maeve’s heart even as it frustrated her. She wasn’t happy with pretending to be married or sharing a room with him. And why was Barton worried about people knowing her name? Was her father so despicable they would turn on her? She shuddered at the thought.
The man read the name in the book and smiled. “Mr. and Mrs. Halsey, I hope you enjoy your stay.” He handed Zeke a key. “You’ll have room two-ten.”
“Thank you.” Zeke started to move away from the counter then turned back. “Could you have a tub and water brought up?”
“I’ll send someone right up with water and a tub.” The man slapped his hand on a bell and an adolescent young man appeared from the back room.
Zeke grasped her elbow and headed up the stairs. The carpeted steps muffled their boot heels as they climbed to the second floor. A bath sounded lovely. But she wouldn’t disrobe or step in a tub if he remained in the room. It would be inappropriate. His dark eyes watching— her body warmed at the thought.
Shiny, brass kerosene lamps lit the carpeted hallway.
At room two-ten, Zeke opened the door and gestured for her to go ahead of him. It was a large room with a tall feather bed placed in the corner. A nightstand stood on one side with a brass kerosene lamp. A matching pitcher and bowl sat on a fancy carved wash stand next to a wood stove with a boiler reservoir.
Zeke crossed the room, dropping the saddlebags on the two upholstered chairs next to a small table beside the window. When he drew back the curtain, she caught a glimpse of the river.
“Take your hat and gloves off and get comfortable,” he said, leaning against the end of the bed and watching her.
“What about you? And this bath? I’ll not have you in the room while I’m bathing.” Her stomach fluttered when his eyes lit with desire.
“I’m only staying until they get the tub here and it’s filled.” He stepped in front of her and unbuckled her holster, looping it over the bedpost. His gaze drifted over her face, then peered into her eyes as he pulled her hat from her head and finger by finger removed her gloves. The slow movements and intent look elicited a tingle down her spine.
“Excuse me,” muttered a red-faced, young man at the door. “The tub.”
She jumped and Zeke moved around her to help the young man set the tub in a spot which appeared to be reserved for that purpose. The boy opened the door on the stove and knelt in front of it, lighting the already waiting kindling. When the sticks popped and hissed, he stood.
“I’ll be back with the water,” his voice cracked. He kept his eyes averted before he darted out, leaving the door gaping.
She giggled. The boy obviously thought he’d interrupted something. She glanced at Zeke. He stalked across the room, pulling her into his arms. His lips descended upon hers before she could think of resisting.
The slow seduction of his mouth weakened her knees. He caught her in his arms, carrying her to one of the chairs. Zeke sat, cradling her on his lap. She closed her eyes as his soft lips dropped kisses down her jawline. Tilting her head back, she allowed access to his talented lips which continued on a path down her neck to the buttons on her blouse.
Heat curled in her lower regions. Her breasts felt full and ached. She wound her hands in his hair, knocking his hat to the floor and brought his lips back to hers. When a sigh escaped her parted lips, his tongue entered and seduced her even more.
A knock on the open door and Zeke’s body jerking, brought her back to reality. He set her on the chair as he stood. She noticed he walked a little stiff, like most mornings after he’d slept next to her. The face on the boy standing at the open door was as red as the long john’s she’d seen hanging on clothes lines on laundry day.
And he wasn’t alone. A China man stood behind him with full buckets. She stared out the window barely seeing the river as mortification engulfed her. Those males had seen her being eaten alive by Zeke. And it didn’t help they all thought they were married. Even married people didn’t act that way in front of others. At least none of the married people she’d ever been around.
When the buckets had been dumped and one sat next to the stove to replenish the reservoir, Zeke closed the door. He ran a hand through his already mused hair and looked at her like a boy who’d just dipped a braid in the inkwell.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the door being open and—well so many people seeing—you know.”
“See it doesn’t happen again.” She turned her attention back to the rapidly moving water in the river below. She’d enjoyed the kisses. That was part of the problem. Her emotions had to be held back until they knew more about her father.
“I don’t think I can.”
She wrenched her head around and found Zeke standing beside the chair. “Can’t what?”
“Keep my hands off you. But I won’t compromise you. I promised. I keep my promises.” Zeke leaned down. She waited for him to place a kiss on her cheek, but he picked up his hat and straightened.
“You think pretending to be married isn’t compromising me?” This was what she needed. A good argument to put him at a distance.
“We’re pretending to be married to keep you safe.” He placed his hands on his hips and stared at her like she was a daft child.
“Safe from what? What could my father have done that ten years later his name would cause me harm?” She stared into his cold, unflinching gaze. A slight movement caught her eye. The muscle in his jaw twitched. What had turned him from ardent to agitated? The hardness in his eyes unsettled her in a different way than his kisses.
“We won’t know until we find out. Take a bath.” Zeke crossed to the door. With his hand on the cut-glass knob, he turned back to her. “Lock this behind me and keep your gun close.”
He slipped out the door, and she hurried to lock it behind him. With trembling fingers she hung her holster on the peg on the wall above the tub.
She dipped her hand in the steaming liquid and sighed. The velvety water caressed her fingers.
Dropping her dirty clothes to the floor, she slid into the warm, invi
ting tub. Being dirty while traveling hadn’t bothered her, but being in town, she wanted to look respectable. Or as respectable as she could in a riding skirt.
****
Zeke noticed the man who’d accosted Maeve sitting in the corner of the lobby. Why did he watch them? And why had those men changed their direction, returning to The Dalles? He didn’t like all these questions and even less the thought Maeve was in danger from a father that hadn’t been in her life for a decade.
Frowning, he went out to the horses and wasn’t a bit surprised when the man followed him. At least if the man dogged him, he wouldn’t have time to report Maeve was at the Umatilla alone.
He mounted his horse and led the mare down to the livery they’d passed earlier. On the way, he noticed a dress shop and on the other side of the livery was a sign for baths. He handed the horses over to the stable boy and paid for several days. There was no telling how long they’d have to stay to find out about Loman.
Backtracking through town, he found a store that sold men’s clothing and purchased a white shirt, riding trousers, drawers, and a brown, corduroy vest. He hurried back to the bath house with his purchases. The older woman running the place could have been his grandmother. Her smile showed tobacco-stained teeth, and the faded brown eyes sized him up as he walked through the door.
“You looking to clean up?” she asked, as her gaze slid down his body and back up to his face. “For an extra coin you can get your back washed.” The grandmother winked and a scantily dressed woman Maeve’s age stepped from behind a curtained partition.
“I just need a bath ma’am.” When the girl pouted he added, “Nothing against you,” he smiled, “I’m married.”
“That hasn’t stopped many men before,” the old woman said, handing him a towel. “Third room on the left.”
Zeke touched the brim of his hat and headed down the hall. Saying he was married was a whole lot better than telling them he only wanted one woman in a tub of water with him. And she was sitting in her own bath back at the Umatilla.
He pushed aside the canvas covering the third door and stepped into a room with a large, wooden tub. He undressed and climbed in. The water was tepid, but not for long. The young woman, who offered to wash his back, lugged in two steaming buckets of water. Zeke grabbed his hat, holding it over his crotch as the woman smiled and emptied the buckets near his feet.
“You sure you don’t want me to at least wash your hair?” She leaned forward giving him a clear view of her ample breasts. They were a sight, but not the ones he wanted to see.
“Sorry, I can take care of myself.” He shot her a smile, but she huffed out of the room, flinging the canvas shut behind her.
After scrubbing, shaving, and donning the new clothes, Zeke rolled his dirty clothes up in the paper the new clothes had been wrapped in and wandered back out to the main room. The old woman raised an eyebrow. He’d been told on more than one occasion he cleaned up well.
“Your wife is one lucky woman,” the old lady said, leaning on the counter, resting her abundant breasts on the smooth wood.
“I’m the lucky one,” he said, walking up to the counter. “Have you been around here a long time?”
“Since the first load of miners came through in a huff to make their fortunes.” The woman scoffed and pulled a half-chewed cigar from under the counter.
“A friend of my father’s was here about ten years ago. He might have used your facilities.” The woman nodded for him to divulge the name. Zeke hesitated. Would he put them in more danger by asking questions? The name had to come out to get anywhere.
Leaning close, he said, “His name was Brendan Loman. You know him?”
Her eyes widened, and she chomped down on the cigar before narrowing her eyes and jabbing a finger at him. “You might want to watch who you tell that to.”
“Why? What did he do?” Zeke felt his jaw clenching and slowly worked it loose. His anger at anyone who worked outside the law always set him off.
“Not so much what he did, it’s what others thought of what he did.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “It’s best you don’t mention that name too loud around the gaming establishments. There’s a lot of bitterness.”
Someone entered the door. She straightened and pasted a smile on her face. “You and your wife have a nice stop over,” she said, clearly indicating it wasn’t a good idea to hang around.
Zeke turned and nearly bumped into the man who’d accosted Maeve. He put his hand in the middle of the man’s chest and shoved him back against the wall. “When I told you to stay away from my wife I meant it.” He wanted to pound the statement into the man, but couldn’t take the chance he’d end up in jail, leaving Maeve unprotected.
He exited the establishment and shook his shoulders. It took years after his parent’s death to learn to control his short fuse. Since the discovery of Maeve’s past, he’d been holding it on a tight rein. Lowlifes like the men following him, rankled. There was a reason they followed. And it couldn’t be good.
Tucking his dirty clothes under his arm, Zeke set off for the dress shop he’d seen. There was a way to make up to Maeve for compromising her.
Chapter 10
Maeve sat in a chair staring out the window wondering when Zeke would return. Her stomach had started rumbling when she dressed. She ran her hands down the sides of the extra riding skirt she’d packed. If she’d known they would be in such a large city she would have packed a day dress at least.
A knock at the door startled her. She picked up her gun from the table in front of her and crossed the room.
She cocked the pistol. “Who’s there?”
“Zeke.”
She opened the door to the familiar voice, but just about shut it again at the pile of packages covering the person. She recognized the dusty Stetson above the parcels, as belonging to the man who brought her to town.
She stepped back. Zeke entered and dumped the packages on the bed.
“Keep the door closed.” He strode back to the door, closing it and turning the key in the lock.
Frowning, she glanced from the pile of packages to the man, standing cross-armed and looking quite dapper, studying her.
“What are all of these for?” She waved a hand toward the brown paper-wrapped items.
“You. I can’t take you to a fancy restaurant looking like some outlaw in that riding skirt.” He smiled and her heart fluttered. Gone were the dark whiskers that had shaded his features since leaving Sumpter. His handsome face appeared smooth. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the masculine scent of bay rum.
“You don’t have to take me to a fancy restaurant.” She stepped to the bed and picked up the largest package. Before she turned it over in her hands, Zeke stood beside her and ripped the paper.
“We’ve been invited to a fancy restaurant by Barton.” Zeke’s voice held a tinge of suspicion.
“You don’t trust him?” She scanned his set jaw and narrowed eyes.
“It just seems strange he didn’t want to talk to us at the saloon, but he’s willing to dine out in a public restaurant with us—It just doesn’t add up is all.” He pulled a dark green dress out of the paper.
She ran her hand over the finely woven fabric. “This is—”
“You like it?” Zeke held the dress up in front of her.
“It’s beautiful, but you shouldn’t have spent your money on it. On me.” Raising her face, she gazed into his eyes. It pleased him to do this. She saw it in the crinkles by his eyes and the way the dark orbs lit up. But to take clothing, especially such expensive ones from him, would give him thoughts of a future with her. That was something she couldn’t risk. Not yet. Not when her father’s past could make Zeke think less of her than he did at this moment. And what if they found her father? Her mother constantly told her she was just like him.
“We have to meet Barton. I figured you didn’t bring any fancy clothes in that saddlebag.” He kicked the empty saddlebag on the floor beside the bed. “Take this, and know I
don’t want anything from you for having the pleasure of dressing you up.”
She searched his eyes. Sincerity glistened. With a nod, she accepted the dress, hoping he meant what he said—he didn’t expect anything. The fineness of the garment and the color took her breath away. She’d never owned anything so grand. Her clothes had always been serviceable. She never wore anything that would attract a man’s attention.
Gazing up at Zeke, she knew his eyes wouldn’t leave her all night, and not because she could be in danger. Her insides jiggled.
“Open the other packages and make sure I didn’t forget anything.” He pushed the smaller packages toward her.
It was like Christmas, only better, because it was so unexpected. She unwrapped drawers, an underskirt, and a camisole with lace edging, stockings, and soft, satin slippers in a color that matched the dress.
“How did you know to get all of this?” Maeve stared at the garments scattered across the bed.
“The woman in the store helped.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her to him. “Do you like it?”
“It’s all wonderful.” Tears burned her eyes. She didn’t want him to see how his thoughtfulness touched her. No one had ever presented her with so much. Pushing him toward the door, she said, “You’ll have to leave so I can change.”
“How long will it take?” The eager look on his face let her know he was anxious to strut about town with her on his arm.
“Thirty minutes. Now go.”
“Lock this behind me.”
She scooped the dress from the bed as the door clicked shut. Hurrying across the room, she snapped the key to lock the door and danced back to the bed with the garment in her arms.
****
Zeke walked into the Umatilla Saloon and immediately felt the charge of the gamblers gathered around tables scattered throughout the room. It was late afternoon, yet the place did a brisk business not only in gambling but drinking and socializing.
He’d barely scanned the room when he spotted the three men following them. He itched to know who they were but refrained from walking up and asking. Standing at the bar where he could watch them, he struck up a conversation with the old timer next to him.
