by Paty Jager
“You don’t happen to know those three sitting at the table in the far corner?” he asked, flagging the barkeep down and ordering the man another finger of whiskey.
“What’cha want to know for?” The old timer took a swallow from his glass.
“The one looks like a man who knew my father. I don’t like making a fool of myself.” He took a sip of whiskey. Not knowing where Maeve stood on a man getting drunk, he’d have to stay sober to keep his promise and not compromise her later tonight when they slept in the same room. He winced at the thought of her sleeping in the bed while he slept on the hard floor.
The old man tossed back the glass, dribbling the amber liquid down his chin, and looked at the three in the corner. “The oldest one is Jack Marsh. His brother was murdered ‘bout ten years ago. He’s been a bit tetched since. The other two follow him like besotted ugly women. Don’t have a good head between ‘em.”
Zeke watched the leader in the mirror behind the bar. “Guess he isn’t who I thought he was.”
The old man grunted and studied his glass.
Now he had a name to ask Barton about. The timing was right, but why did the men follow them? That didn’t make sense. There was no way he could know Maeve was related to Loman.
He nursed his drink watching the men and the gamblers engrossed in their games. A large man at a corner table roared loudly and slapped the winnings in the middle of the table. Those losing their money didn’t seem the least bit upset to lose to the jovial man.
When the barkeep came back to replenish his glass, Zeke asked, “Who’s the man at the corner table?”
The barkeep smiled. “That’s Hardley, one of the owners. He likes to mingle with the customers. Sinnott is the man at the front desk. He enjoys meeting the patrons.”
He nodded and slipped his watch out of his pocket. Thirty minutes. That was all he would give Maeve. He was hungry for food and to feast his eyes on her in that dress.
****
Maeve paced the floor. Her hair was piled on her head with tendrils tickling her neck. Everything fit perfectly. She had only one problem. The dress buttoned up the back. No matter how she twisted, she couldn’t slip a button through a hole.
A knock startled her from her reveries on how to finish the task.
“Maeve, it’s me, Zeke.” He rattled the knob, and she stopped squirming as her feet rooted to the middle of the room.
The man who’d begun to trickle into her heart stood on the other side of the door. He was also the only person she knew who could button her dress.
“Maeve?” The slight rise of his worried voice put her feet into motion. She crossed the room and flicked the key.
The door opened so fast she jumped backward. Zeke wrapped his arms around her, embracing her to his hard chest.
“When you didn’t answer the door, I thought…” His body shook. Before she could soak up his worry, he held her out in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
She felt small for having given him such concern, but now he was in the room, her face heated.
“Maeve?” He placed a warm finger under her chin, tipping her face to look up into his.
“I-I-” she turned her back to him. She couldn’t ask him to button her dress and look at him.
The deep chuckle rumbled behind her and sent her embarrassment flying. How dare he find humor in her situation. His knuckles brushed her skin, and she forgot her anger. The sensation of his rough skin against hers sent shivers gliding up her back.
“Sorry, when the lady at the store showed me this dress I just thought the color would look good, I never thought about how you’d get into it.” The sincerity in his voice made her look over her shoulder at him.
Their gazes locked, his hands stilled. She wanted to repay him for all his kindness—that was all. Lifting an arm, she grasped his neck, pulling his head down. Before she lost her nerve, she placed her lips on his.
Zeke groaned and spun her in his arms, drawing her tight against him and deepening the kiss. His rough hands branded her skin through the flimsy chemise when they slid through the open back of her dress. His mouth did wondrous things to her lips. When she opened, his entrance stoked a fire within. Her body came alive, pressing against him. The evidence of his arousal no longer scared her.
In fact, she’d become curious. Pushing her body tighter against his, she felt the length of his hardness against her stomach.
Zeke pushed away from her groaning. He stood with his back to her.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do that again,” she said appalled at being so forward. How could she have let her curiosity and his kisses make her think she could touch a man in such a way?
“Honey, after we’re married you can press against me all you want. Until then…” Zeke faced her as he raked a hand through his hair and willed his hardness to subside. Her body pressed to his had just about caused him to let loose. He’d been so scared someone had taken her when she didn’t answer the door right away he’d let things get out of hand.
Roughly he spun her around and finished buttoning the damn dress. Why had he bought one with so many buttons? And up the back where she couldn’t do it herself. He let out a breath.
It wasn’t her fault. He was always pushing her to make a move like she just did. Only he wouldn’t take her to bed until she agreed to marry him. He cared for her too much to ruin her chances at happiness with someone else. The thought didn’t sit well in his gut, but if when this ordeal was over, she still didn’t believe he would stick with her no matter what—he’d leave her alone.
“There. You’re all trussed up and I’m starving.” He picked his hat up off the floor before glancing at her. Despite her flushed face, a polite smile tipped the corners of her mouth. The loose tendrils of hair trailing down her neck made him salivate. She had the look of a woman ready to be seduced.
“I’m hungry, too,” she said, plucking her holster from the bedpost.
“Nope. That stays here. You aren’t going to ruin your pretty appearance by hanging that thing from your hip.” He grabbed the holster and gun, thrusting them under the mattress. “It’ll be there when we return.”
He extended an arm and escorted her down the stairs. The appreciative stares from the men in the lobby puffed his chest and made him place a possessive hand over Maeve’s hand on the crook of his arm.
“Are we walking?” Maeve asked her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes.” He smiled and led her into the large, opulent dining room of the Umatilla.
“Oh! I’ve never seen anything like it!” The woman by his side stared in awe at the large, richly decorated walls and expansive, dark wood furniture.
“I can seat you,” offered a finely-dressed man sporting a mustache and dutiful smile.
“Thank you. We’ll have someone joining us shortly.” Zeke took Maeve by the hand. He loved the contact of her skin against his. She smiled and squeezed his hand as they followed the waiter. Again, he pondered the change in her. Even though they still didn’t know what lurked in her father’s past, she’d smiled at him more in the last two days than the whole year he’d spent courting her.
When the waiter stopped, Zeke positioned the table at an angle so they could sit watching the entrance to the room. He held a chair for Maeve and she sat. Hovering over her gave him an excellent view of the creamy swells holding up her lacy neckline.
The waiter cleared his throat and motioned for him to sit. He pulled his pocket watch out before sitting in the chair next to Maeve. They were early, but he was starving, and he’d heard Maeve’s stomach rumble as they walked down the stairs.
“We won’t wait for the other person. Bring us two specials with coffee.” He glanced at Maeve to see if his order pleased her. She nodded.
When the waiter walked away, he leaned close. “When Barton gets here, let’s see what he says before saying anything.”
Maeve stiffened. He glanced toward the door. Damn. Marsh and his two idiots stood inside the doorway. The leader scanned
the room and smiled when he sighted Maeve. Why were they following? He looked at the woman beside him. Had she said something to the man who accosted her?
He took her hand in both his. She trembled. “Maeve, look at me.”
Watching the men scared her, yet she seemed to be reluctant to take her gaze from them.
“I don’t understand why those men are following us.” He took a deep breath and spit out the words. “Did you say anything to the man that accosted you?”
Her head jerked around. She pulled on the hand clasped in his. “No!” Her voice was harsh and bitter. She shot to her feet, but he pulled her back down onto the chair.
“I’m not insinuating anything. I know you didn’t do anything to attract that man, but you never told me the details.” He brushed a wisp of hair back, skimming her cheek with his knuckles. “Did he start a conversation or just grab you?”
A wave of revulsion shook her body. Maeve saw the concern and censure in Zeke’s eyes. She knew he had a reason for his question. She’d put the event out of her mind until the man showed up in The Dalles. Now he and his attack plagued her like an abscess.
“I never had a chance to say anything. He snuck up behind me as I was—” she gulped. The repulsive man had hooked an arm around her waist as she started to unbutton her skirt preparing to relieve herself.
“Shh.” Zeke raised her hand to his lips. “I didn’t bring it up to upset you. I’m trying to figure out why they followed us.”
Maeve nodded. The man holding her hand would never hurt her. Not intentionally anyway.
“I learned today the leader is Jack Marsh. His brother was killed ten years ago.”
She snapped to attention. Ten years ago. When her father went missing. “Do you think?”
“That’s one of the questions I plan to put to Barton.”
The waiter arrived with their food. Before the man could back away, they both started eating. She was the first to shove her plate to the middle of the table and relax against the chair back.
She sighed. Living on trail rations the last few days had given her a new appreciation for food.
Zeke flipped his pocket watch open and frowned. “Barton’s late.”
She glanced to the entry. There wasn’t any sign of the man.
“Damn!” Zeke stared at the empty corner table where the three men had sat. “Come on.” He tossed gold coins on the table and grasped her hand, pulling Maeve to her feet.
Chapter 11
“Where are we going?” Maeve held the skirt of her dress in her free hand as she hurried behind Zeke’s long strides.
“To change.” He pulled her up the stairs to the second floor and wrenched the door open.
“But…”
He closed the door, locked it, and spun her around. His touch singed her skin as he quickly unfastened her buttons.
“Get into your riding skirt. We’re going to go find Barton.” He snatched his saddlebag from the arm of a chair and turned with his back facing her.
She marched to the bed, wishing she could climb into it and sleep until noon the next day. The sound of Zeke changing his clothes pushed her into motion. She didn’t want him to turn around before she’d dressed.
Shoving the dress down her body, she plucked a blouse from her open saddle bag and buttoned it quickly. She’d leave the fancy undergarments on. There was no way she’d strip to her skin with him in the room. Her face heated, and her fingers trembled as she untied the strings on her petticoats, dropping them to the floor in a white mound over the dress. Standing in a blouse and her drawers, she quickly grabbed the riding skirt thrown across the end of the bed.
“You done?” Zeke’s deep voice caused her to jump.
“Almost.” She stepped into her riding skirt and buttoned the waist. “Now.”
He strode across the room and looked down at her feet. “Change out of those shoes.”
She kicked off the fancy shoes and stepped into her boots. Zeke knelt in front of her and fastened her boots.
“Leave your clothes on the bed. I paid for the room for several days, so things should be here when we get back.” He raised the mattress and handed Maeve her gun and holster.
She buckled the holster, settled it on her hips, and grabbed her hat as Zeke grasped her hand, dragging her to the door.
“What’s the hurry?” she asked as he took the key from the door and locked it from the outside once they stood in the hall.
“If Barton’s running, we need to get on his trail.” He took her hand, leading her down the hall to the back of the building.
“If?”
“Those three disappeared from the restaurant.”
She shivered. “You think they might have done something to Barton?”
“I don’t know. But the first place we’re headed is the High Stakes.” Their boots tapped a staccato beat down the back stairs.
Zeke’s large hand was warm and comforting as they plunged into the shadows behind the buildings. She caught a shimmer of moonlight on the wide river before he drew her down a dark alley. Maeve hurried her steps to keep close to Zeke. The piles of boxes a ruffian could hide behind moved her legs even faster.
Out on the street, kerosene lanterns illuminated the board walkways and dirt road. “This way.” He squeezed her hand and continued to his left. He veered to the right at the corner. The noisy street startled her. Men and horses milled about with regard to no one. Piano music floated out of the saloons, mingling and becoming an odd background for the shouting and fist fights in the street.
She pushed against Zeke unable to believe men behaved this way. They were no different than a bunch of rowdy school boys. Zeke pulled her into his arms when a large man stumbled into the street. The stranger’s hand latched onto her pistol when he attempted a grab at her.
Instinct brought her knee up to collide with the man’s crotch. He howled in pain, clutching the juncture of his legs with both hands. She felt the weight of her gun back in her holster. Placing a hand over it, she continued to the saloon, tucked against Zeke.
“Nice job,” he complimented, pushing the door open for her to enter the High Stakes saloon. “I’m never going to try and take your gun.” The mischief glinting in his eyes made her smile.
Acrid smoke and unwashed bodies wrinkled her nose. A wide, firm hand on her back propelled her through the tables crowded with men. The clink of glass and chink of coins rang out above the rumble of male voices.
Zeke pushed her up to the bar. His arms latched onto the counter on either side of her providing a barrier between herself and the men along the counter. When the barkeep approached, she smiled, hoping that was what he expected.
“Where’s Barton?” Zeke’s voice roared over her shoulder. The man shrugged and held up an empty glass.
“You here to drink or talk? I ain’t got time for talking.” The barkeep filled the glass and handed it to someone to the right of them.
Zeke studied the man as he digested the information. The curve of Maeve’s backside pushed against his groin, made it hard to remember why he was in the bar. He focused on the man behind the counter. “Barton was supposed to meet us and didn’t show.”
“He asked me to work tonight because he had something to do.” The barkeep looked them over. “But he was dressed too fancy to be meeting the likes of you.”
Maeve’s body stiffened against his chest. Probably ready to give the man a tongue lashing.
“Does he live above the saloon?”
“Yeah, but you won’t find him there. I seen him walk out the door myself.”
Maeve spun in front of him. Her breasts pushed against his chest. He didn’t know which was more distressing—her backside or her front side rubbing against him.
“Come on.” He hooked his arm in hers and headed to the back of the room.
“Where are we going?”
He noticed she kept a hand over her pistol. She was a quick learner. “We’re going to have a look at Barton’s room.”
“Yo
u know which one it is?”
“No, but we’ll figure it out.”
They stepped out the back entrance and moved to the stairs leading to the upper level.
She stopped, pulling her arm out of his. “If you don’t know which room is Barton’s, how do you expect to learn anything?”
“I think, since he was all dressed up, he had planned to meet us. Something happened.” He started up the stairs, hoping she followed.
She did. “But if he was dressed up and headed to the Umatilla, he didn’t make it. What good is it going to do to look in his room? Obviously something happened between here and the restaurant.”
He turned the knob on the door and entered a hallway. It was dark, but by the moonlight streaming through the open door, he could see three doors on the hallway. Being a betting man, he figured the lone door on the one side of the hall would be the room belonging to the man who owned the establishment.
The soft footfalls of Maeve as she followed him to the door reassured him she hadn’t stood out on the landing in plain sight.
He tried the knob. It didn’t turn. He pulled out his knife and ran it between the door and the jamb, popping the door loose.
“I’ve never seen that done before.” The wonder and not criticism in her voice surprised him. He’d expected a lecture on the proprieties of breaking into someone’s room.
“It’s not something I do on a regular basis. Only in emergencies.” He slid his knife back in the boot sheath and stepped into the room. Maeve was already flitting about.
“There’s nothing here.” She stood in the room her arms spread like a bird about to take flight.
“We haven’t looked yet.” He debated if he should light a lantern and risk being found.
“There’s nothing to look for.” She pushed the curtains back on the one window, allowing more light to enter the room.
She was right. The room had the appearance of a hotel room. There was nothing personal in plain sight. No trunk, no tintypes, not even a book. He opened the drawers on a chest and found basic clothing items. A razor, strap, and shave soap along with a comb were tucked into the top drawer. That was as close to personal belongings he could find.
