Once there, he kissed them, eliciting a greater response from her, her fingers in his hair. She pressed him closer, and when he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, she threw back her head and called his name out low. She may have not even realized when she kicked off her drawers and wrapped her knees around his waist. But he realized it.
As he teased her nipples, he raised her skirt. As the skirt bunched around her waist, he could smell her clean, light scent of arousal. Unsure of how Verity would react, he ran a hand up her thigh, reaching her sex and pausing there. He lifted his head from her breast, and kissed his way back to her lips, even as he began to tease the curls at the apex of her thighs. "I want to touch you, Verity."
"Yes," she whispered.
Gently, he parted the outer lips of her secret places and found the nub he sought. Pressing a finger in the wetness nearby, he moved some of it to coat her button and help him rub.
"Oh, dear. Oh, dear, Joshua."
"Am I hurting you?"
"No! Don't stop. I'm whirling."
"Spin faster, sweetheart." As his thumb manipulated her tender bead, he pressed a finger into her opening and moved it as well. She moaned and her breath caught. "Come to me," he whispered.
"Oh! Oh, Joshua!"
He could feel her body tense and release, tense and release as she reached her peak. And once she'd relaxed a bit, she leaned back on her hands, breathing hard, her eyes still closed.
Joshua unbuttoned his trousers and opened his underwear, allowing his hard member to be free. The feeling of the head of his cock sliding around her wet pussy got her attention and she raised her head, smiling. "Are we going to make love again?"
"We can if you'll have me."
"Yes. Oh, yes, my dear."
He slid into her, slowly at first, then with some pressure as her tightness encased him in warm softness. She sighed and spread her legs further. Once he was seated and was sure he wasn't hurting her, he moved within her, picking up the pace as he went. The sensation was nearly overpowering, and hearing her soft mewls and cries had him crazy with need. Faster and faster he went, his hands around her narrow waist, pulling her closer to him, burying himself deeper, until that moment when there was only their joining, only Verity and himself, nothing and no one else in the world. He gave his all to the woman with him, groaning as he slowed down and finally stopped.
She straightened back up and took his face in her hands, pressing little kisses all over his cheeks and chin. "You make me so happy," she whispered.
He withdrew from her, hating to part, but knowing they must.
"We'll find a way, Verity. I'll leave no stone unturned to find out who I am. But please don't forget that the way is fraught with peril. I don't know what we'll find."
She nodded and pressed her forehead to his. "I know. I'm ready."
"I hope so, sweetheart. I hope so."
Chapter Eleven
The next two weeks passed like a dream. Joshua was gone both in the early morning and late in the afternoon, but he came home to have luncheon with the family. Verity was delighted and concerned all at once. His recovery from the injuries was steady, and by the end of the egg delivery job, he was whole again and walking with only a slight limp. He no longer needed a cane. And, in many ways, he no longer needed her.
Since they'd decided there was something too compelling to resist between them, they had their stolen moments. Kisses in the hall. Petting in the coat closet. And once, Verity sneaked down the stairs in the middle of the night to spend the night with Joshua. Unfortunately, they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, and when the alarm clock went off, it was time for Joshua to rise and go to his job, and late enough for Mrs. Perkins to already be in the kitchen making breakfast. Verity had had to scurry out of Joshua's room like a thief in the night. She barely had closed her own bedroom door when she heard Faith coming out of her own room. They hadn't repeated that dangerous rendezvous since.
He could leave at any moment. He'd made money during his time as an egg-delivery person, enough to pay for his room and board, but more importantly, Verity was well aware that he'd made friends with some of the townsfolk. Everyone she spoke to mentioned him and made inquiries about his status as their boarder.
Now that Franky Harrison had returned with his father, Verity knew Joshua would have to find another job. He now knew enough people to back up his job hunt with some tangible evidence that he was reliable.
What if he did find a job? A high-paying job, maybe. Her heart would break if he left her. She was falling in love with him and didn't know what to do about it. His memory was still fragmented, his past unknown.
"I'm going into town tonight," he declared over breakfast a few days after his egg-delivery job had ended. "I think there's a job I can try."
"Oh, Joshua!" Charity cried. "How wonderful. Pray tell, what is it?"
"Who is it for?" Faith asked.
"When will you be out of the house?" Mercy asked, a barb in her voice. Despite Joshua's excellent work effort, she was still not a fan, and made no bones about showing it.
"Tell all," Hope implored.
"Job?" Granny added, lost in her own thoughts.
Verity kept silent. She wanted to know what he was going to try, but afraid to hear about it all the same.
"I don't want to say," he told them. "Just in case it doesn't pan out. It's risky."
Risky? Oh, no. Was he going to be handling explosives in one of the silver mines outside of town? Would he be working for the stage company as an outrider? Would he tell her when they were alone?
"Oh, fuss and bother," Faith said. "You can't even hint?" For some reason, she glanced over to Verity, giving her a telling look for a moment. But what did the look say? Verity wondered if maybe Faith, who ferreted out everyone's secrets, was aware of her relationship with Joshua. If so, she'd tell her closest confidants, and pretty soon everyone would know.
No. Not possible. She and Joshua had been extremely careful together. Faith could not know.
Joshua smiled at Faith's coaxing, then shook his head. "I'll let you know if it works."
"You remain a man of mystery, Joshua," Charity said. "I'll say a prayer for you at church this morning."
"Thank you, Miss Charity."
"You said, 'tonight,' Joshua," Verity asked, thinking about their time together, generally found at night when the family was in the parlor and out of the rest of the house. "How late will that be?"
"I expect it to be very late. Very late, indeed."
"Oh! Is that a good idea?"
All he did was arch a dark eyebrow.
Charity took the hint. "Well, I suppose we'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out if you got the job or not."
He nodded and ate his breakfast. How could he calmly go about eating when Verity was fretting, her stomach churning?
Unfortunately, clinic business and a midwife call would keep her busy all day. She might not see him again until the next morning. It was going to drive her mad.
* * *
Joshua watched the other five men around the table. There was a natural thought process that made him both curious and suspicious of his past. He saw one man playing with his money, moving his heavy coins fast when he had a good hand, and slowly when his cards were poor. Another man drank whisky and was betting more loosely as the night wore on. The man directly across from Joshua glowered at everyone, but especially at him.
Joshua was winning. It was incremental, a pot here and another there. There were hands when he had nothing, but more than a few when he won big. He was not cheating, though he was aware that he knew how. He mostly watched the others for signs of swindling.
Out of money, but maintaining a friendly demeanor, the drunkard rose from the table on unsteady feet and put on his coat. He needed a little help from one of the other men at the table, but, with effort, he got it on. Declaring himself done for the night, the man trundled off though the smoky, crowded saloon and out the batwing doors.
"Me, too," an
other gambler told those remaining at the table. "I'll make sure Fred gets home safely." He took what remained of his money and left.
Joshua would have called it a night, too, having won more than a hundred dollars, but a fellow with a bowler hat and red suspenders approached the table.
"Mind if I join?" he asked.
The glowering man grunted agreement, and the other one nodded toward one of the empty chairs.
"Game's winding down," Joshua told him, "but you're welcome to join."
The guy with the bowler hat took a seat to Joshua's right. "Name's Jackson, Henry Jackson."
Joshua offered his hand and Jackson took it. "Joshua Smith." No one else offered a name or a handshake.
Studying the man's face, he seemed to be jovial enough, but not a clown. His coat, which he shrugged off, was of good quality, but not the best. The buckles on his suspenders were shiny. He put a stack of gold pieces on the table, both tens and twenties. He kept his beaver skin bowler on, and watched the glowering man—whose name had never been offered—shuffle the cards, then deal them out.
As he took his cards, Jackson also signaled for a bar maid. "Cigar. Gimme a Carolina, if you got 'em. And a shot of Old Grandad."
"Any of you other gents want a cigar or a drink?" she asked.
It didn't interest anyone, so she went off to get Jackson's requests.
They played out the hand while she was getting it for him. It wasn't a great hand for Joshua and he folded after getting his draw. The cigar and bourbon came and Jackson lit up. The bourbon sat at his left, untouched for now.
The deal went around the table, eventually making it to Jackson. He hadn't said a word through the previous hands, but having the deal seemed to perk him up.
"I don't recognize you, Smith," Jackson said. "You from around here?"
"Here and there," Joshua said.
"I live in Cedar Valley," Jackson said, still shuffling the cards. A diamond pinky ring winked as his hands moved. "Just traveling through to Phoenix."
"Oh."
He puffed on his cigar, sending up a cloud of smoke. Joshua recognized the brand and quality, but didn't much like the taste of tobacco, so didn't get his own.
Jackson continued to shuffle. "Weather is warm for this time of year, eh?"
"A bit," Joshua responded.
"Not much of a talker, are you?"
"Deal the damn cards," said the glowerer.
"Sure, sure. Keep your shirt on," Jackson said, as he quickly dealt the cards—from the bottom of the deck.
Joshua wasn't positive he'd seen it. One didn't want to accuse someone without being sure, so he played the hand out and lost twenty dollars. It was no more than he'd lost as a matter of course through the game, but he'd lost to Jackson, so he was suspicious and somewhat more convinced that he was right about the cheating.
"Hey, lady luck might be with me tonight, fellas," Jackson said, sipping at his bourbon. It was such a small sip, Joshua thought maybe the man had only tasted and then spit it back into the glass.
The deal came to him and he played out the hand, losing a ten-dollar ante. The cards seemed to be turning on him, but it was too soon to tell. The deal passed around to Jackson again. Once again he shuffled endlessly.
"You gents got family nearby? Mine's all in Cedar."
"None nearby," Joshua said, watching the man's hands.
"What drew you to Virtue?" Jackson asked, shuffling and bridging. He was awfully good with playing cards.
"This and that," Joshua replied. Jackson was about to start dealing when Joshua called, "Cut."
Jackson looked at him, slowly putting the deck down in front of him. "You don't trust me, huh?"
Joshua shrugged. No he didn't trust the man. "Just playing the game, mister," he said, cutting the cards.
The next hand wasn't as good for Jackson. He lost about forty dollars to Mr. Grumpy, who grunted and raked in the pot.
It was Joshua's turn to deal, and the hand went as normal. One of the other fellows won that time, and the game continued. When it was Jackson's turn to deal, it was uneventful. He shuffled without talking and Joshua didn't see any cheating. The play went on though several more rounds, and then Joshua saw a small fingernail indent on his ace of spades. It was the tiniest of marks, possibly simple wear and tear on an older deck of cards, but a person who was looking closely would be able to track the card and know what another player held.
Jackson won the next hand, drawing only one card. His winning hand was a pair of aces. Possibly only good luck for him, since Joshua had the third ace and even if he'd had two, Jackson had a king as a follow-up high card, and would probably win with that hand. Often, in five card draw a high pair was a winner.
Joshua watched the cards more closely, and found several fingernail marks on high cards coming through more often. They were set in different places. On corners, over the fan designs on different quadrants, and some of the cards had small, inconspicuous divots in the short ends. Joshua couldn't be certain who had marked the cards, but he did know that the marks had only become apparent since Jackson joined the game.
He watched a while longer, seeing Jackson slowly rake in the pots. Finally, convinced that the man was a cheater, he did one more trial. As the man before Jackson was pulling in the cards to start shuffling, Joshua called, "New deck."
The dealer for that turn gave him a sharp look. "You got a problem, Smith?"
"The cards are getting sticky," Joshua replied, giving a stock answer that usually told the players someone was cheating.
They all passed looks around, clearly becoming suspicious of one another. But they played the hand out with a new deck of cards, and when Jackson's turn to deal came up, he lost. He'd only anted and then folded, so he didn't lose much. When the cards came to Joshua, sure enough there was a mark on one of them. It was now clear that Jackson was cheating, but what could Joshua do about it? He wore no weapon; there was no bouncer. The only law in the room was the barkeep and his shotgun. Such was only used during brawls, generally speaking, so disputes over card games and fancy women were left to the individuals in the bar.
Joshua had two choices. He could accuse Jackson directly and possibly start a fight, or he could pick up his remaining coins and leave the game. The latter wouldn't be a bad choice, since he was still up by sixty-six dollars. Cheating sat badly with Joshua, so he decided to confront Jackson, when the deal came to him next.
As Jackson shuffled, this time with perfunctory motions, Joshua stopped him before he could begin dealing. "I think you're about done here tonight, Henry Jackson."
"Huh?"
The other two men at the table tensed, one putting his hand on the gun at his hip.
"You were dealing from the bottom of the deck and now you're marking cards. I think you'd better pack up and get outta here before something bad happens to you. Your luck just ran out."
Jackson yanked the cigar out of his mouth and snuffed it out on the table top, leaving a burn mark on the green baize. "You got a lot of nerve, Smith."
"You been winning a lot," said Mr. Grumpy. "Got fifty of my dollars just the last two hands."
"I'm lucky tonight, that's all, fellers!"
Joshua knew that proof was easily at hand. "Give me the cards."
"Take 'em yourself," Jackson said, stacking up the coins on his side of the table and standing. "I don't need this crappy card game. You all are a bunch of fucking amateurs anyway."
Another player spoke up. "Maybe you should leave your winnings, too."
"Yeah," someone else said.
Jackson continued putting on his coat. "Go fuck yourselves. This is my money and I'm leaving with it."
Mr. Grumpy drew his weapon and pointed it at Jackson. "Wait, mister. You ain't going nowhere 'till I see what Smith is saying for myself." He gestured with the gun, indicating that Joshua should show his proof, but Grumpy's eyes never left Jackson. Jackson stood stock still.
"Now hold on, gentlemen. There's no reason for this to get ugly. I'll
be on my way and I won't come back."
Joshua spread the cards out while Jackson was talking. The two men not holding the gun watched as Joshua pointed to the various marks on the cards, flipping each high card over so they could clearly see the pattern.
"Damn," one said.
"I say plug him," the other said to Mr. Grumpy. "What do you want to do, Smith?"
Before Joshua could answer, Jackson made a run for it. Grumpy fired his weapon but missed, the bullet ricocheting off a spittoon under the bar and embedding itself in a wall not far from a patron's head. Joshua rushed out of his chair and grabbed Jackson by the back collar of his coat. Jackson tried to struggle out of the garment, but Joshua swung him around and punched him in the nose.
"Get the fuckin' cheater!" one of the players yelled. Joshua barely heard him, intent on his prey as he was.
Although blood ran from his nose, Jackson put up his fists and swung at Joshua. Joshua deflected the blow with a forearm and punched Jackson in the gut twice, in a graceful one-two action. Jackson doubled over with a whoof but rebounded a moment later, trying to kick Joshua between the legs. Joshua turned his thigh inward at the last moment and the kick hit him in his bad leg. He grunted with the sharp pain, but gave Jackson an upper cut, knocking the man back several feet.
Suddenly, several guns were trained on Jackson, and he groaned, bleeding from the mouth and nose and holding his belly with both hands.
"Get the sheriff," the barkeep told a man nearby.
"No need," said Artemis Gritch, stepping further into the room. "I heard the shot and hightailed it over. What's going on here?"
Everyone talked at once. Joshua licked the back of his scraped knuckles and watched the commotion. Pain radiated throughout his hurt leg, up to his hip and down to his toes. He prayed the bruised bone was strong enough not to be broken this time.
The Doctor's Daughter: A Virtue, Arizona Novel Page 9
