She pointed at Rosalyn. “She’s got to go. I don’t give no charity.” Noah’s muscles tensed beneath Rosalyn’s hand. “Miss Benedict is my guest and deserves some courtesy. May I have your name please?”
His politeness impressed Rosalyn. She’d have started cussing right about then.
“Clara Cartman.” The older woman shook her head, the rolls on her neck moving on their own. “You shouldn’t be with her type. Folks won’t take kindly to it.”
“I expect our citizens to be kind to everyone, not just those who have a roof over their heads. Miss Benedict is working as a housekeeper at the jail.”
Clara snickered. “I’ll bet.”
Noah’s quick intake of breath was the only indication he was angry. Rosalyn, however, had had enough.
“Listen here, you’ve no call to be mean to me or call me names. I ain’t never done anything to you. The sheriff hired me to clean, not share his bed, not that you would even know what sharing a bed means, fattie.”
Clara’s face grew florid. “You little whore—”
“That’s enough.” Noah’s command cut through the heated air.
“There’s to be no more insulting each other. We came here as customers, Miss Cartman. I’m sure at some point you will be in need of my services and I’d hate to think an upstanding citizen like you wouldn’t receive them.”
Noah’s threat made Clara step back a pace. “You saying you wouldn’t help me if I needed it?”
“I’m saying that charity begins at home. This town is my home now as much as it’s yours and Miss Benedict’s. We need to treat everyone with respect or there won’t be any peace.” He gestured to the curtain behind Clara. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, Miss Benedict is in need of a bath and you have the nicest bathing house in town.”
Rosalyn was about to point out there were only two in town and one was for men only, mostly cowboys, when Noah pushed her toward the dark blue curtain.
Clara’s eyes narrowed. “You vouching for this piece of trash?”
“I specifically asked for no more name calling, Miss Cartman. With my help, Marina can make sure no one uses your facility anymore.”
Now that was a direct threat. Rosalyn wanted to clap, but figured a smirk would do. Unfortunately, Clara’s gaze was locked on Noah so she didn’t see it.
“You’d do that?”
“I would. You can’t treat people like offal, Miss Cartman. What we do to others comes back to us tenfold.” He started walking Rosalyn back toward the curtain again. “With your permission?”
Clara flapped her hand. “Fine then, go ahead.”
With a polite nod, Noah ushered Rosalyn into the bathing room and to her first hot bath in more than ten years. There were six bathtubs, positioned a couple of feet apart. She stepped up to the closest one and stuck her finger in the water.
“It’s cold.” She backed away. “I told you I wasn’t taking a cold bath.” Noah touched her back to stop her retreat, the heat from his hands seeping through the dress and into her skin. The man had big hands, ones that made her wonder what they’d feel like on other parts of her body.
“Don’t worry, Rosalyn. They keep the water hot in the back. They keep the tubs half full until someone comes in to use them.”
“That’ll be four bits.” Clara stood behind them, arms folded across her chest.
Noah dug around in his pocket, pulled out money, then handed it to Clara. “She gets fifteen minutes.”
“Ten minutes, no more than that.”
“Fifteen. She’s got long hair, it’ll take five just to rinse it.” Noah took a hank of her hair in his hand and lifted it up.
Rosalyn shuddered at the sensation and had to stop herself from running out the door. The sheriff needed to keep his hands to himself or she’d never survive this job.
When he let her hair go, she did step away, finally able to take a breath. Two boys came in with buckets of steaming water and poured them into the tub in front of her. Wisps of steam rose from the tub.
Noah stuck his fingers in the water. “It feels pretty warm now.”
His gaze locked with hers and Rosalyn felt herself falling into the brown depths of his eyes. The warmth of the room became very, very hot. What was happening to her?
“I, uh, brought you some soap and a cloth.” Noah handed her a bundle and skedaddled like a wisp of smoke, and she was left alone in the bathing room.
She unwrapped the cloth and found some pretty purple soap and a comb inside. Putting the bar under her nose, she inhaled and closed her eyes. It smelled like a meadow of flowers. She couldn’t wait to use it.
Rosalyn shimmied off her new dress and laid it on the chair near the door. She didn’t want to get it dirty in this place. Glancing down at her tattered chemise, Rosalyn contemplated leaving it on to wash it in the water. It wouldn’t hurt anything, besides she’d feel safer with it on, especially if Clara decided to stomp back in.
The moment her toes touched the warm water, a shiver slid up her body. Oh, hell, she’d had no idea hot water felt so good. Either that or she’d blocked out the memory for self-preservation.
She slid into the water as slowly as she could, savoring each inch of the bliss. By the time she’d settled deep into the tub, she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. Heaven. Absolute heaven.
After ducking her head to wet her hair, she lathered up and washed from head to foot, then did it again. She devoted special care to her hair.
Years ago, she’d lost the brush she carried and did her best to finger-comb her thick locks. It hadn’t done much good and as a result her hair was like a tangled bramble bush.
She rinsed it a second time until it squeaked beneath her fingers. After washing herself, she scrubbed her chemise until it didn’t look quite as gray. Rosalyn didn’t know how much time had passed but she wasn’t about to get out of the tub until the last second. She closed her eyes and floated in the warm water.
Noah stepped outside and took a deep gulp of air. He had started shaking when he walked into the bathing room with Rosalyn. The heat, the steam and his surprisingly overpowering lust for her almost did him in. Rosalyn seemed to have some kind of special magic within her, one that reached out to him at an elemental level. It wasn’t just unexpected, it was somewhat frightening.
He spent time simply watching the folks walking by at the end of their day, observing everyone and everything. For all appearances, it was a typical town. However, he saw the way ladies kept their eyes down and men barely nodded a greeting to each other. Something was wrong, he just didn’t know what. Yet.
His father had taught him a great deal about how to study and process what he saw. His instincts were all screaming at him now. Chancetown wasn’t the happy place he’d first thought it was. Appearances aside, it was his job to find out what or who was the bad apple in this barrel. He’d start with discovering what he could about the ranchers’ feud and work his way back to Mayor Dickinson.
“Done.”
The smell of lavender soap washed over him and he turned to find Rosalyn at his elbow. Freshly scrubbed, with pink cheeks and wavy, clean black hair, she snatched his breath away. The smile on her face faded as Noah stood there absorbing the sight of how incredible, how stunning she looked without the grime she’d hid behind.
“My God.”
She frowned and turned to walk away. “I know I ain’t beautiful, but you don’t need to—”
He grasped hold of her elbow. “That’s not it. Please, wait.”
“Let go of me,” she growled.
“You’re exquisite.”
She stopped pulling and turned back to look at him. “What does that word mean?”
“It means that you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He swallowed the rest of what he wanted to say, that she was perfect, amazing and the most fascinating woman he’d ever met. Noah kept those thoughts to himself—he didn’t want to scare her.
“Really? Are you just saying that to get in my britches?” She narrowed her gaze.
“First of all, you’re not wearing britches and second of all, no, I’m not. I don’t know what I have to do to prove that to you.” He held out his arm.
“May I walk you back to the jail?”
Noah had the sinking feeling that he’d made a huge mistake. As far as he could tell, the townsfolk had ignored Rosalyn for years. Now she’d be lucky if anyone didn’t notice her. They would know just how amazing she was, and no doubt she’d be a target for every cowboy in town, not to mention strangers who were just passing through. Cleaning her up had revealed a diamond in the rough who he was now even more responsible for.
If his mother were here, he’d ask her for advice. However, his mother was hundreds of miles away and Noah was old enough to puzzle out his own problems. He had to figure out what to do with Rosalyn now that she was most assuredly in need of his protection.
As they walked back to the jail, he was assaulted by the clean scent of her again. Lord, he’d never make it alone with her if just the smell of soap made him hard. He knew it wasn’t simply the soap, but Rosalyn herself who sent his blood pumping.
When they arrived back at the jail, Rosalyn stopped outside the door. Noah glanced at her, noting the set of the stubborn little chin.
“I cain’t sleep in there again tonight.”
“Why not?”
She waved her hand in the air. “I didn’t sleep good the last two nights ’cause I don’t trust you, Noah Calhoun. I ain’t trusting nobody that easily even if you did pay for that nice bath.” Her violet eyes flashed. “A man is a man, no matter what clothes he wears. Your eyes are hungry.”
Noah swallowed the protest that rose to his lips. “If you change your mind, I can leave the door open for you.”
Rosalyn frowned. “I ain’t changing my mind. You make me jumpy and that means I cain’t trust you.”
Keeping his voice light, Noah opened the door. “I know what it means to not trust anyone.” He noticed a wet piece of cloth clutched in one hand but didn’t want to mention her unmentionables. It wasn’t unusual to wash underthings while taking a bath.
Of course that brought home the realization that she was naked under the dress. His trousers grew impossibly tight and he had to make an escape before he embarrassed himself.
“I hope you come back tomorrow.” Noah met her gaze. “Take care of yourself, Rosalyn. The door is always open for you.”
As he stepped over the threshold, he had to hold himself back from grabbing her and dragging her inside. She’d survived for ten years without his help, one night wouldn’t make a difference.
If he had any say in the matter, it would be the last night.
Rosalyn watched him disappear into the jail and wondered why the heck she wanted to follow him. She’d just met the man, and had fought with him on more than one occasion. He was a stranger, a man, someone not to trust. Yet she’d spent two nights beneath his roof locked in a cell holding the only key. If someone asked her why, she couldn’t explain it. But now, things were different.
He’d changed her by making her take a bath. Rosalyn was smart enough to recognize the look in his eyes, the one that made her stomach flip. It had become too dangerous for her to stay.
She clutched the wet chemise in one hand, the steady drops of water puddling near her shoes. Rosalyn hadn’t trusted many people in her life. In fact, she hadn’t trusted anyone. Noah threatened the walls she’d built around herself.
Whirling around, she headed down the alley and back to her safe place. She needed to think about what had happened before she did something stupid.
The night sky was just a sliver above her, and Rosalyn counted the stars she could see. They sparkled against the velvet blackness, inviting her mind to imagine who was up there watching over her.
She hoped it was her mama, even if folks said she had sinned in the eyes of God. Rosalyn believed if there was a heaven, her mama was there, keeping watch. Sometimes she must’ve looked away though, like that awful time about five years ago when that handsome stranger had caught Rosalyn alone in the alley behind the hotel. She’d been charmed by his pretty words, then he’d shown his true colors when he’d forced himself on her. A shudder wracked her body at the memory, the despair and pain that had raged through her.
Rosalyn had railed at the heavens, wondering why she’d been left on Earth all alone. From then on, she’d been able to use her wits and skills to avoid most trouble.
Until Noah Calhoun entered her life.
He was trouble with a capital T.
“Mama, why did you let him catch me?” she whispered. “I ain’t done nothing wrong, except for pushing him in the water. He is nice though and pretty to look at for sure.”
She absently petted Whiskers, soothed by the sound of the cat’s purr against her side.
“I ain’t met nobody like him before. He makes me feel funny inside and that scares me.” She pointed at the brightest star in the sky. “If that’s you up yonder, I could use your help, Mama.”
As if answering, the star twinkled and winked. Rosalyn smiled and shook her head.
“Whatever it is you’re planning up there with God, I surely hope it’s good.”
Chapter Five
Rosalyn dreamed of Noah, as if her mind couldn’t stop thinking about him even when she was asleep. She woke up with grainy eyes and an irritable disposition, dang that sheriff.
Whiskers appeared to sense her mood, because she ran off just as soon as Rosalyn awoke. Cats were smart creatures for sure.
When Rosalyn emerged from the alley behind Marina’s, the high position of the sun told her she was late. It had to be after nine o’clock, well past the breakfast hour at the two restaurants in town. The slop buckets would be cold and congealed, if not empty. With a grumpy sigh, she accepted a hungry belly would be her companion for the next couple of hours.
Normally Rosalyn would eat breakfast, then go for a walk down to the creek just outside town, sometimes take a nap, other times wander behind buildings looking for treasures. Today she didn’t want to do any of those things. She wanted to see Noah.
“Dang it!” Rosalyn stomped her foot, earning a few leery gazes from folks on the sidewalk. “That man has got to get out of my head.”
She headed to the jail and the sheriff, determined to push him out of her mind and heart so she could get sleep and food on a regular basis. No telling what would happen if she continued on like this. It had to stop.
Noah had dreamed of Rosalyn. Some erotic, some sweet, others filled with images of what could happen to her. He tossed and turned most of the night, snatching sleep in small increments. When he dragged himself out of bed near dawn, his eyes were grainy and his disposition worse.
Elsa steered clear of him at the restaurant. She simply brought him breakfast after a cursory greeting, then let him be. No doubt the entire town was talking about how he’d brought Rosalyn to the bathing house. That more than anything bothered him. She didn’t deserve to be gossiped about, but he knew it was happening. He’d even received a few sidelong glances and smirks.
The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, yet the town seemed determined to make that happen. He needed to think of a way to keep her safe without damaging her reputation any more than he already had. When leaving Elsa’s, he carried some ham biscuits and peaches with him. He didn’t know if Rosalyn would appear for breakfast or not, however his conscience could not let him leave without food for her.
As he stepped outside the restaurant, he looked down the alley next to Elsa’s, remembering his first encounter with Rosalyn. A smile crept across his lips at the memory of chasing her. It hadn’t seemed funny at the time, but really, it was. She’d kept him running in circles ever since.
He tipped his hat to folks as he walked back to the jail, his mind definitely not concentrating on the faces passing him. When he opened the door, he half expected her to be sitting on the floor sorting the papers again. Or maybe he hoped that’s where she’d be.
Either way, he was di
sappointed because she wasn’t there. The echoing loneliness of the small building reminded him that Rosalyn had no obligation to him. He set the basket with the biscuits and peaches on the desk and sat down.
The next few hours passed by in a blur. Several folks stopped by for help with a missing pig, a garden-eating goat and a stolen crate of pickles. Surprisingly, he found himself enjoying the job. He helped find the pig, corral the goat and catch the pickle thief. It made him forget about Rosalyn for a while, sort of.
After a stern lecture to the boy who’d taken the pickles, Noah returned to the jail. The scent of lavender, of Rosalyn, washed over him, and his heart kicked his ribs.
“Rosalyn?”
She poked her head up from behind the desk, a cobweb stuck to one curl on the side of her head. “Whoever cleaned this place was an idiot.”
Noah smiled, his day that much better with her there. She filled in the hole he’d felt in his chest all day.
“Why do you say that?”
She harrumphed. “They swept all the dirt under the desk and the cots in the cells.” Rosalyn straightened, dust peppering the blue of her dress. She stretched, pressing the fabric against the curves of her ample breasts.
Noah’s smile faltered as his body reacted to the sight. “I should tell the mayor to get a refund from Cherry and Bitsy then.”
“Oh, that’s who cleaned? No wonder it’s dirty.” She wrinkled her nose. Noah fought the urge to kiss her. “I dropped a piece of paper and got stuck in their mess.”
“Have you eaten breakfast?” he blurted, trying to focus on something other than kissing her. He didn’t need to think about her in that way. She was under his protection, not his lips.
She frowned. “No, why, did my stomach howl?”
This time his smile was so wide, it hurt his cheeks. “I brought you some breakfast a couple of hours ago. It’s probably cold by now but—”
Rosalyn laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Cold food don’t bother me.”
Noah almost blushed. He’d plumb forgotten she’d lived on the streets for ten years.
“It’s ham biscuits and peaches.” He gestured to the basket covered with the napkin on the desk. “I thought you might be hungry.”
The Legacy Page 5
