by Alix West
To her dismay, Justin wasn’t sleeping next to her. Sometime in the night, he’d tossed the covers back. His spot was empty. She touched the blankets and found them warm.
In an instant she was out of the bed and moving down the hall. Moonlight lit the floor. She crept downstairs and made a beeline for the kitchen. The boy had awoken hungry, she assured herself. Of course, he had. He was a thin as a rail, always hungry. He likely searched the kitchen for something to eat.
But the kitchen was empty.
Cora’s heart raced. Her breathing quickened. If she hadn’t lost her hearing, she could call for the boy and she’d find him quickly, assuming he hadn’t left the house. What if he was gone? Why hadn’t she checked to see if he’d taken his boots?
Her brothers liked to play out this very scenario. They’d sit across the table, looking smug, their soft hands folded in front of their paunch, telling her how she couldn’t take of herself much less a baby. Justin was a child, not a baby, but still, he was vulnerable. He needed her. He had no one. And she’d lost him. Panic gripped her. She ran back upstairs. The lamp stood on the table, but no matches. She searched the room, trying to tamp down her terror. When she stumbled over his boots, she almost wept with relief.
A glow burnished the wood floor and grew brighter. Nick filled the doorway, holding a lamp. He yawned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “What’s wrong? Where’s Justin?”
“I don’t know. His boots are here. He must be in the house.”
Nick was bare-chested, she realized with dismay. His tousled hair and his dark beard made him look appealing, she realized with more dismay. What was wrong with her that she noticed such things? Her gaze drifted down. He wore a pair of pajama pants that were held up with a knotted, frayed drawstring.
“We’ll find him, Cora,” he said.
He beckoned her and held out his hand. She crossed the room, took it without hesitation and gave a slight sigh of relief. Once she got her eyes on the boy, she’d feel better, but Nick’s presence relieved her.
He squeezed her hand to catch her attention. “I can hear him. He’s in the house.”
“Thank goodness,” she murmured.
They searched the rooms, one by one. When they came to what she assumed was his library, she noted that there were more books stacked on tables than on the shelves.
“How do you manage without servants?” she asked.
He frowned. The lamplight made his expression almost fearsome.
“A small child could be lost for weeks amidst this clutter, Nick.”
She didn’t have to see his face to know he’d be displeased by her remark. Biting her lip, she tried to keep from laughing. Once she knew Justin was nearby, and they’d find him eventually, creeping through the dark house with Nick made her worries fall away. Her fears of the worst befalling Justin seemed silly and overwrought. Instead of fretting, she thought about the way Nick’s hand felt in hers. Strong but gentle, like Nick, she realized, surprise dawning in her mind.
When they reached the sitting room, Cora saw the silhouette. Justin sat on the couch, small and solitary, shadowed in moonlight. Her heart pinched with pain, but relief too.
She tugged her hand from Nick’s. Rushing to the boy, she stopped a few paces away. He lifted his gaze to her. Part of her had expected to find him weeping. Instead he gave her a matter-of-fact look.
Anger washed over her. “You frightened me, Justin. Don’t ever do that again, you wicked boy.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. Where had those words come from?
“I’m sorry,” she said, a little more gently. “But you really did give me a scare.”
Nick drew closer, casting the lantern’s light across both Justin and Cora.
The boy studied her for a long moment, shifted his gaze to Nick and then back to Cora. “My name’s not Justin.”
Cora stared, her gaze transfixed. Lowering to the couch, she watched his lips with disbelief. He’d spoken. It felt like a miracle. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Nick crouched in front of the child.
“My name is Justine – with an ‘e’ at the end.”
Nick set his hand on Cora’s arm. “Did you understand that?” He jerked his thumb towards the child. “She’s a girl.”
Cora turned to the child. “Justine?”
“Yes.”
Cora stared at the child with the cropped hair and suddenly saw her for the first time. Her delicate features, her high cheekbones and arched brows. “My goodness,” Cora marveled. “Of course, you’re a girl. With your grubby face and your hat, I never noticed how pretty you are.”
The child said nothing. Shadowed lamplight lit her features and without the layer of dirt, Cora could see the clear evidence. Despite the short, spiky hair, Justine was a comely child.
The girl spoke softly. “I changed everything when I ran away from the orphanage. It was easier that way.”
“Of course,” Cora said quietly. She didn’t understand completely, but she knew what it meant to run with the purpose of hiding and disappearing.
“I don’t know who David Tarrant is,” the girl said. “But I don’t want to know. And I don’t want you to go either. I want to stay with him.” She jerked her head towards Nick. “He said I could help him and that I’m good with the horses. That’s what I’m doing.”
Cora straightened. “I think we should discuss this in the morning. I want what’s best for you. Surely you must know that.”
Justine nodded. “I know.”
Cora shook her head. “This is quite a surprise. I’d wondered the first day, but couldn’t imagine how to ask.”
Justine gave a sheepish look. “I think I do all right as a boy.”
“And then when you showed me your wallet collection, I assumed I was mistaken.”
Justine’s smile faded. Her eyes widened for some reason.
Nick narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ve got a wallet collection?”
The girl gave a barely perceptible nod.
“They’re beautiful wallets. Italian leather. My father used to collect the very same type of wallet,” Cora mused. “He also collected pocket watches.”
Justine lifted her chin. “I got a few watches too.”
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Nick said, giving the girl steely look. “I’m happy to have you here, but make plenty sure you don’t add my wallet to your collection.”
“Is it Italian?” Cora asked in bewilderment.
Nick shook his head and got to his feet. He motioned for them to get up. “I’ve enjoyed our little chat, but it’s time everyone gets back to bed.”
They followed him up the stairs. Cora felt a flutter of embarrassment that she was out of bed in just a man’s nightshirt, but when Justine took her hand, she set aside her unease. They returned to their bed, got under the covers and just before Cora fell asleep, she felt the light touch of the girl’s hand on her shoulder.
“Justine…” Cora murmured.
Chapter Ten
Nick
Even before Nick opened his eyes, he was instantly aware of both the deep contentment drifting through his mind and the heated desire surging through his body. The first rays of dawn burned crimson on the horizon. Today would be interesting, no doubt, and if he had his way, busy. Despite the pleasure he felt at having Cora under his roof, he needed to cut any ties she might feel to David.
The key, he felt certain, was Justine. David wouldn’t want a woman who came with a child. Cora was devoted to Justine, and he himself wanted to care for both of them. His best bet was convincing Cora that he could do just that.
She might be impossibly stubborn and sass him till the cows came home, but she had a deep and abiding integrity. He knew she felt guilty and perhaps even immoral for staying in his home. Nick wanted to take care of that too. His family would want a wedding, but he needed to make things official sooner rather than later.
He dressed and washed and went downstairs. To his surprise, he found Co
ra standing at the window. With her back to him, she couldn’t hear him. The last thing he wanted to do was startle her. A jolt of pain struck his chest. He needed to know everything about her. How was it that she could read lips so well? Her speech sounded nothing like any deaf folks he’d ever known.
Moving slowly, he crossed the kitchen and stopped some paces from her but in her field of vision.
She turned abruptly, with a soft huff of surprise.
“I should make you breakfast,” he said.
Folding her arms across her chest, she smiled softly. She wore the clothing he’d given her the day before. Her hair hung past her shoulders in a silken disarray. He’d like to gather her in his arms, kiss her and bury his face in the golden-red tresses.
“I looked for some tea, but only found coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee?”
She shook her head. “Earl Gray. Darjeeling.”
“I definitely don’t have any of that.”
“You only drink coffee?”
The way she wrinkled her nose made clear her disapproval of coffee.
“That and whiskey.”
“Could you take me to David Tarrant’s home?”
Nick clenched his jaw. He’d never been a jealous man, but he didn’t care to hear Cora say David’s name. He curled his hand into a tight fist, imagining driving it into David’s smirking face.
“He’s expecting you?”
“I’m early, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Nick snorted.
She pursed her lips. “I’m certain he’ll be as happy to see me as I will be to see him.”
“I’ll just bet.”
“I’m not sure what to tell him about spending the night in your home.”
He shrugged and watched as she seemed to wage an internal battle.
“It’s not as if anything untoward happened between the two of us.”
The memory of her naked body flashed in his mind. He couldn’t hold back the possessive growl that rumbled in his chest. She was his. No man would ever undress her and see her naked figure. Only him. The notion of not just punching David but doing him some real harm made him see a mist of red.
“I have a few things to explain to David,” she said.
“Yeah? Me too.”
“I want him to agree to keeping Justine.”
“She doesn’t want to go.”
“I can’t be parted from her.”
Nick said nothing.
“She’s young and doesn’t have anyone,” Cora said.
Nick nodded. “I understand, but David won’t want her.”
Cora’s shoulders stiffened. “I intend to find out for myself. David was thoroughly assessed by the bridal broker. I have to imagine he’s a fine, upstanding and generous man.”
“All right. You go right on and imagine what you like. I’ll show you everything you need to know about David Tarrant. Today’s Saturday. I know just where to find him.”
“At his home?”
Nick shook his head. “In Colter Canyon.”
“Very well, thank you, Nick. I hate to trouble you further. I would be ready to go late morning. The dress I wore yesterday is washed and hanging out to dry. I’ll need a little time to make myself presentable.”
“I like the way you look now.”
She blushed again and turned away. Over the next hour, he heard her upstairs and imagined her doing the things ladies did when they readied themselves to meet their man. A mixture of arousal and rage twisted inside him.
Justine came down and ate some of the eggs he’d cooked and even had a cup of coffee. For the next hour, she trailed behind him as he did his morning chores. She chattered amiably about the ranch, her life in Boston and everything in between. Who knew how long since she’d spoken regularly, but one thing was certain - she was making up for lost time.
When she wasn’t talking nonstop to him, she cooed to the horses and even more so to the barn cats. They milled about her, bumping against her leg, eating up her attention.
When Cora was ready, he hitched the wagon to the draft horses. She didn’t say anything about her trunks, and he didn’t remind her. She might not realize she was coming right back, but she was. He said little on the trip into Colter Canyon, and neither did Cora or Justine. The girl mostly looked around in wide-eyed wonder while Cora stared straight ahead with wide-eyed terror.
He felt sorry for her. Almost. If there was some way to spare her from meeting David, he would, but this had to be done. There was no avoiding it.
Negotiating the Colter Canyon streets on a Saturday was no easy task. Cowboys with Sundays free, and a week’s wages in their pockets, came to town looking for fun or trouble, most of them not finding too much difference between the two. By dark, half the men would be drunk, and spoiling for a fight. The other half would be drunk, sweet-talking one of the Magnolia girls, trying to get more than a nickel’s worth. He wanted to finish up and get the girls out of town as quickly as possible.
Hitching the animals in front of the Magnolia, he squinted at Justine. “I’m not sure I want to take a girl into a saloon.”
Justine’s eyes lit with delight. “I love saloons.”
He scowled at her. She probably loved saloons because the half-drunk patrons were easy pickings. Now that her face was actually clean, she looked almost angelic, but he saw the shrewd look behind those gray eyes.
“You can come in, but you’d better behave yourself.”
“I behave.” She feigned an innocent look. “I always behave.” When he turned his back, she snickered.
Nick offered Cora his hand, but she shook her head. Biting her lip, the blood drained from her face.
He pushed past the saloon doors, holding one side open for Cora and Justine. Inside, every chair and barstool was taken by either a cowboy or one of Clarice’s girls. Clarice sat in the middle of the raucous party, like a queen holding court. She was surrounded, not by gentleman callers, but by cowboys trying to win a hand of poker against the famed madam.
If Clarice ever lost, you could bet it was part of a setup for a bigger win. She liked to pout or pitch a fit when she lost. Then she’d beg for another game, promising her opponent a bottle of rye. Within a few hands, she’d have won back what she’d lost as well as the remaining contents of every man’s wallets.
She looked up over her cards, her eyes widening. “Nick Travis?”
Her companions turned. David Tarrant sat across from her, with one of Magnolia’s finest, sprawled across his lap. The girl eyed him up and down. When her gaze wandered to Cora, she frowned and looked away.
“Afternoon, Clarice,” he drew near the table.
Clarice nodded and set down her cards, displaying a royal flush. The other players groaned, and a few swore. David did neither, but eyed him suspiciously as if expecting some sort of showdown. The hand he had wrapped around the girl’s waist, he let fall to his lap.
“David?” Nick said.
David nodded. “Nick.”
Cora came to his side with Justine beside her.
“David Tarrant?”
The saloon quieted.
“You know my name,” David said, his eyes darting to Cora and back to Nick.
Cora let out a cry of dismay.
David pushed the girl off his lap. “What’s this all about?”
Clarice set her hand over the coins in the middle of the table and pulled them towards her. She opened a lady’s coin purse. One by one she dropped the coins in and closed it with a snap. “Boys, boys, boys. Let me remind you, I charge for broken furniture.”
“I picked up a little a woman from the train, one who says she’s your mail-ordered bride.”
David jerked and stared hard at Cora. His lip curled. “She can’t be the girl I sent for. Not with a kid in tow.”
“No, David.” Nick tossed some bills to the table. “She can’t be yours because I’m claiming her. I’m giving you a little money to seal the deal.”
David eyed the money an
d smirked. “The girl might have another one on the way.”
Cora gasped. With a swift motion, she grabbed the glass sitting in front of Clarice. She threw the contents at David, and while there hadn’t been much in the glass, he was none too pleased.
“You’re nothing but a tart,” he snarled.
Clarice leaned across the table and smiled at David. “Watch your mouth, David. I don’t care for the way you say that word, and if you want to talk like that, I’ll toss you out.” She pointed to the watching crowd. “Everyone here knows I will.”
“Hell, I’ll throw Tarrant out right now,” one of the men yelled. Several others nodded. A murmur of agreement went through the crowd.
Clarice narrowed her eyes at David, and murmured softly. “Damn hypocrite.”
Nick scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m done here.”
Clarice turned to him and smiled brightly. “Don’t go, Nick. Stay, have a drink. Let us toast your new girl.”
But something told him Cora wasn’t interested in having a drink, even if he’d wanted to. She regarded him with barely restrained fury. Why she would be so furious with him, he couldn’t imagine. With a rustle of skirts and a small, feminine growl, she stormed out of the saloon.
He gave Justine a bewildered look, but she only shrugged.
“C’mon. We’ve got to go after her.” He nodded to Clarice, ignored David and crossed the saloon.
“She’s just going right back to the buckboard.”
“She looked pretty darn mad for some reason.”
“Not as mad as she was with David Tarrant. That was about the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
Nick pushed the saloon door open and scanned the streets.
“Hey,” came a woman’s shout from inside the saloon.
Clarice stood, red-faced, and searched the crowded room. “Some son-of-a-bitch stole my coin purse.”
“Aw, Clarice, who would steal from you?”
“I don’t know, Harold, but they better give it back right now, or there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“We better get going, Nick. I’m worried about Cora.” Justine stepped past him.
Nick grabbed her collar. “Not so fast.”
She tried to jerk away, her gray eyes flashing with outrage. “Let go of me.”
