“I am regretful we got off on the wrong foot. Please accept my apologies,” said Mrs. Gunn.
Clara did not admit her surprise, but studied the woman for signs of sarcasm. Finding none she nodded. “Certainly.”
“We must stick together, you and me. There are so few women here.”
Clara knew there were many women, but they resided on the south side, safely away from Mrs. Gunn’s delicate sensibilities.
“Is it all right if Kitty plays with Katherine?”
“Of course. I’ll walk her home before supper, shall I?”
Clara departed pausing on Colorado Avenue when she heard a familiar voice raised in anger. The reverend backed out of the saloon with Nate in pursuit. Her husband held a raised gun pointed at the reverend’s nose.
The preacher fell in the mud.
“Don’t you tell me my business again,” shouted Nate.
He holstered his gun and then chanced to glance in her direction. The look he aimed sent her into motion. He stalked toward her as she hurried toward home. She made it to within sight of her front door before he captured her elbow.
He growled at her through gritted teeth. “I got your message.”
She said nothing as he hustled her toward the house that she now realized held no refuge. She did not think he would strike her, but still she held some doubt. She thanked God her daughter was safely away.
He did not speak until thrusting her within and closing the latch behind her.
“Where is Kitty?” he asked.
“At the Gunns’.”
His scowl deepened as he stalked forward. “So you told the reverend I haven’t slept with you. ‘My duties’ he called them.”
She backed away but he reached out, capturing her wrist.
“You want me that bad? You got me.”
The fierce embrace did not injure, but left no doubt who was in command. His kiss showed less control as he took her mouth with a possessiveness that heated her blood.
She wrapped her arms about him and tugged him toward the bed. He set her aside and she tried not to whimper in disappointment. He would not reject her again, she prayed, not after seeking her out.
He released the buckle of his gun belt, and then the cord about his thigh. He reached for her, expertly stripping away her clothing until he left her naked before him. She covered herself with her hands.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “You wanted this and, by God, you’ll have it.”
He tugged his shirt over his head, throwing it aside before grasping his boots. These he hurled across the room so they crashed against the wall.
Nate turned to her, panting. His eyes fixed on her like prey and she did not know if his expression indicated fury or desire. She dared a step of retreat, but he hauled her up against him and then carried her backward to the bed.
She trembled at the delicious warmth of his naked chest as he pressed her to the mattress, letting her feel his arousal through the coarse denim of his trousers. He released the buttons shoving aside this last barrier.
She opened her thighs to him, wanting him to join them with a need that stole her words. He cupped her breasts. She closed her eyes at the delight of his kisses on her sensitive skin and the wonderful pressure of his hands upon her flesh. When he sucked at her nipple she moaned at the pleasure he drew from her and rocked her hips in invitation. His hands shifted, holding her down as his gaze pinned her. He slid forward to join them.
She gasped as he filled her. His possessive gaze never left her, as her breath caught at the fierce desire she saw blazing in his eyes.
“You’re mine,” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Now he moved, quick and deep as he captured her hips, bringing her up to meet each powerful thrust. Her insides quickened as the rising tide of pleasure carrying her upward toward her release. With a swiftness that shocked and overwhelmed, she reached her summit, crying out her joy. His stroke quickened as he drove into her again and again. She wrapped her legs about his waist to bring him deeper within her. He arched and cried out her name as he spilled his seed.
At last, she thought, he has made me his own. She had never expected to find such pleasure in coupling. Her first experiences were embarrassing and painful. Jacob’s lovemaking was always gentle and sweet. Neither had prepared her for this rushing torrent of delight.
This man was a good father and an excellent provider. Either of those would have been enough to satisfy her. But these things he did to her took her breath away. She was the luckiest woman in the world.
She stroked his head as he lay damp and panting upon her replete body. He was like her, full of fears and flaws, but inside he tried, perhaps too hard, to please. Here was a man she could love.
No—not a man she could love, she realized. A man she did love. She had fallen in love with him the day he called Kitty his own. She leaned close to his ear and whispered. “I love you, Nathaniel.”
He groaned and rolled away, throwing his arm across his eyes as if he could not stand the sight of her.
The first inkling of worry nipped at her. “What is it?”
Nate lifted his arm and met her gaze. Her stomach tightened at the obvious suffering written in each line of his face.
“Love me? I just used you like a… Clara, my God, you should have a husband who can control his anger and his lust. You deserve a gentle hand.”
“I prefer your hand.” She lifted up upon her elbow and drew his palm to her breast, gasping at the shaft of pleasure that drew her nipple to a point. “Nate, I am not a fragile violet to be crushed by your embrace. I am stronger than you think.”
He drew back his hand, adjusting himself and fastening his trousers.
“You should not have to suffer my lustful urges.” His hands knit in his hair and balled into fists. “My God, did I hurt you?”
She laughed, but his face stayed fixed in a look of repentance. He slid from the bed, grasping his shirt and gunbelt before retrieving his boots.
“Where are you going?” she asked, drawing the sheet up to cover her nakedness.
“I should be whipped.”
He shrugged into his shirt and latched on his gun.
“You’re not leaving me.”
He did just that, and in such a hurry, he went out in his stocking feet, carrying his boots in his arms. By the time Clara was up and dressed, he was long gone.
She sank into a chair. Why did he think her so fragile?
And then she knew. Jacob’s letters, again. He had created a lady to be worshipped instead of loved—someone untouchable when Clara longed for Nathaniel’s touch. Now she was trapped by this lie.
He would hear the truth. All of it. If he understood that she had made mistakes, terrible mistakes and done things of which she was not proud, then perhaps he could understand that she was like him.
If anyone could sympathize, it should be Nate.
Dared she take the risk? She gambled with her daughter’s life as well. Doubts filled her mind. He was stubborn and unforgiving. What if he blamed her for her deceit? What if he could not find it in his heart to forgive?
He had not forgiven his father. She bit her lip and considered what she had to lose.
Could she risk Kitty’s new home on her selfish desire to win his love?
She rested her elbows upon the table and her cheeks upon her hands. She must tell him. With nothing but lies between them, what chance did they have to become a family?
Chapter Nine
Nate stood behind the bar staring at the street. He thought he could do as Jacob asked but he couldn’t. He’d never make a proper husband—didn’t have it in him.
Jacob had asked him to look after his family. Nate had thought that marrying his widow would be the surest way to offer his protection.
But who would protect Clara from him?
He didn’t deserve to walk on the same side of the street with her, let alone share her bed.
He groaned at the memory. He’d tossed her do
wn like a doxy and showed not the least restraint as he’d used her. He’d wanted her to see the beast he kept locked away, all because she had hurt his pride. If any other man had touched her the way he just had, he’d see him lynched.
And the saddest part of all was that he loved her. Who could not love her? Clara was gentle and kind. But she wasn’t for him. Too damn perfect for his sorry hide.
What had happened between them would happen again. He knew that for sure. It was why he’d tried so hard to keep his hands from her. Now he’d tasted that apple and, Lord help him, he’d never have his fill. She was without equal, just as Jacob had said, singular to her gender.
He’d told her she was his. Now he knew she never would be.
Nate pressed his palms flat to the mahogany bar he’d had shipped from Illinois. He knew what had to be done and it broke his heart. Even though their time together had been difficult, he had never been happier. He loved Kitty and Clara and knew his life would be poorer without them.
But Kitty needed a father to be proud of, not some savage saloon keeper, and Clara deserved a gentleman like Jacob.
Things had been better off before their arrival, when he was alone, because then he did not know what he missed. Certainly he recognized something was lacking but now he knew just what that something was and that he could not keep them. For love, he would do what was best for Clara and Kitty.
He’d leave her enough money to buy the damn town. He’d sell the saloon and leave his share of the store to Clara. Maybe in time she’d forgive him, but he didn’t deserve it.
They were finding gold in Montana. Plenty of fools there waiting be separated from their nuggets. He’d be happy to oblige.
Now that he’d decided, he couldn’t put it off. Best to tell her right away.
He found Clara at the washtub, scrubbing his shirts. He felt guilty for bringing her to this place.
She straightened and brushed a damp curl of hair from her face. Then noticing him, she gave a tentative smile. It died there upon her lips.
Clara held up a palm, which was pink and raw from the lye in the soap. “Let me speak first, please.”
She dried her hands upon her white apron and stepped closer.
“I have been burdened with something, a lie that needs correcting. I want to apologize for making you think I am other than what I am.”
What was this nonsense?
“I tried to tell you yesterday about the man who took me from the streets.”
“Jacob,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “No. His name was Carl Bickerfield. He was a libertine, who promised me marriage. It wasn’t until much later, after he had his way with me, that I learned his true intentions. He planned to make me a prostitute in the goldfields.”
“Bickerfield? Where did you hear his name?”
“He was the man who seduced me.”
He knew of the man, had read about him in the newspaper. He had beaten two whores to death in Bakersfield and was wanted for hanging. Why she would choose this name for her outlandish tale escaped him.
“Clara, what are you talking about?”
“I am trying to tell you that I am not the proper lady you believe me to be. I have a past of which I am ashamed and am unworthy of you.”
“Unworthy? You—of me?” It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. Then he saw what this was. She’d grasped his feelings and taken steps to stop him. Somehow she knew what he intended, perhaps even before he did. This was some female trick to make herself seem more suitable.
“Nate, I love you and pray that you will forgive me.”
As if he had any right to judge her. Even if it was true, which it wasn’t, he’d not be distracted from his purpose. He’d fulfill his promise to Jacob and be gone.
“Clara, I’ve come to tell you something as well.”
She gazed up with large hopeful eyes. He reminded himself of what he’d done to her. It was all the reason he needed to do what was right.
“I’m leaving. You’ll get the house, my share of the hardware store and all the profits from the saloon. It is more than enough to provide for you and Kitty. In a few years you can claim abandonment and marry a respectable man. I’m sure there’ll be a line around the block to fill that post.”
“You’re leaving?” The sorrow in her voice nearly broke his heart.
“I am.”
“Please stay.”
“This is best.”
She cried as he stood rigidly before her, chewing the inside of his cheek bloody.
Both Clara and Kitty were waiting on the step when he came to say farewell. He hugged the child and felt the tug of regret for that which he would never have.
“Be good and listen to your ma,” he said and released her.
Kitty cried and clutched his leg.
Clara pulled her off and lifted the weeping child to her hip.
“Will you reconsider?” she asked.
He shook his head, not trusting his words. Getting on his horse was the hardest feat he’d ever pulled. Riding away took more courage than facing the Apache.
As he rode, he chewed on his regrets. He wished he could have been the man she deserved, but that man was dead and buried.
Clara needed a decent husband, like a banker or grocer. Up until today he’d acted as assayer and unofficial banker in town, and owned the biggest saloon and gaming hall in Colorado City. But no longer. He didn’t own a thing that wasn’t respectable now.
He drew up on the reins.
An idea rose in his mind, like a tiny bubble in a glass of beer. No, it couldn’t work. He only conceived it out of the desperate sorrow caused by losing Clara.
But what if he could?
He let the idea grow with possibilities. He wouldn’t need a tunnel to sneak people in and out of this business. He’d have a line of work more suited to a family man.
Hardware and banking. He knew he could pull off the business part of it. He’d never had any trouble making money. It was the one thing at which he excelled.
He felt himself flush. Well, one of the things.
But what about the other half?
Could he be a gentleman? Just acting like one didn’t make it so. His father would say you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.
Nate spat in the dirt. Well, the hell with him. How long was he going to let that bastard tell him what he could and couldn’t do?
He was his own man now. And if he wasn’t fit for the likes of Clara Justice, he’d just have to make himself fit. That’s what he’d do—he’d become the man she deserved.
He wheeled his horse around just short of the town of Burns and headed back toward Colorado City. Now that he’d decided, he was anxious to find Clara and see if she’d be willing to take him back.
The horse moved from a trot to a lope as Nate grew impatient to see her again. For the first time since her arrival, he had hope that he might make this work.
His horse was lathered when he arrived, and he knew he should take him to the livery, but instead he steered for home at an impatient walk, so as not to kick up too much dust.
He found his front door open and saw a man standing within his cabin. His senses on alert, he swung down and headed in.
Clara’s eyes widened at his entrance, but it took her only an instant to run to his side. Before him, stood Carl Kingston.
“Ah, Mr. Justice, just the man I seek.”
Nate pushed Clara behind him and squared his shoulders. Clara pressed herself to him so he could feel her trembling.
Nate gripped the handle of his pistol. “Why are you here?”
“Business, my friend. I thought your wife would have told you. We are old acquaintances, she and I.” He leered in Clara’s direction.
Nate’s hands curled into fists.
“I see she has not and you are in the dark. Let me enlighten you. I found your precious bride begging on the docks in Albany. Filthy as she was, I saw she had qualities that could be turned to coin. But the little
vixen bewitched your brother before I had a chance to change my investment into profit. I mean to correct that now.”
Nate’s jaw dropped. She had told him the truth and he had not believed one word.
“I see I have shocked you. Others will be shocked as well. For the good people to learn that your wife was once a member of my stables, well, I think you will agree, it wouldn’t do.
“But you are well off and I am a man of business. My silence can be bought.”
Nate cocked his fist and punched the man in the face. Kingston hit the ground on all fours, blood running from his mouth. Between his hands lay his two front teeth.
“I told you what would happen if you came round my house again.”
He took a step forward and Kingston retreated on all fours, scuttling backward like a crab.
Nate hauled Kingston to his feet. “And you can tell everyone you meet about Clara and it won’t change my love for her. But it will change how many teeth you have in your head.”
Kingston whimpered and lifted a hand in supplication. Nate grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out into the street. Clara hovered in the door, wringing her hands.
“This here’s Carl Bickerfield?” he asked her.
She nodded, biting her lower lip. He turned attention back to the vermin in his grip. Resisting the urge to throttle this man was hard, but he did it for her sake.
“Wait here,” he ordered and then dragged Bickerfield to Colorado Avenue. The man struggled as Nate threw open a door, coming to a halt before Sheriff Dagget’s desk.
“This here is Carl Bickerfield. Wanted in California for murdering two women.” Nate released his quarry.
The man dropped to the ground, still spitting blood.
“What?” said Dagget, rising to peer over the desk at the wreckage Nate left before him. “How do you know?”
“Later.” Nate spun on his heels, returning the way he had come. He had business to attend and not even this murderer would keep him from Clara one second longer than necessary.
As he crossed before the jail’s front window, he saw Dagget pulling Bickersfield toward an open cell.
Nate still wanted to kill the man for what he’d done to Clara, but knew a noose was in the fellow’s future as soon as the sheriff in Bakersfield confirmed Nate’s story. Bickerfield wouldn’t be abusing any more women—that much was certain.
Wed Under Western Skies Page 27
