The sleeping furs smelled better than Last Horse's, their warmth and softness an enveloping cocoon. The scent of Cooper's tobacco drifted on the wind. Within seconds she fell asleep.
For no particular reason she awoke during the night. Cooper lay along her side, his breathing even, his long body relaxed. Their combined body heat kept them deliciously warm. Without moving an eyelash Hallie let herself feel him beside her, inhaled his unique scent, listened to the beat of his heart and his breath.
Slowly and carefully, so as not to wake him, she inched ever so slightly onto her side facing him and placed her cheek against his bare shoulder. She wanted to curl up against him, draw herself as close as she could get and fold herself into his embrace.
As though he sensed her unspoken desire in his sleep, he moved, rustling the pelts and bringing her into the curve of his arm. Hallie snuggled her head beneath his chin and nestled into his arms. She would have time before morning to extricate herself. For now, there was nowhere she'd rather be.
Cooper, waking, delighted in the feel of her soft curving body against his. It was a temptation to thrust his fingers into her sweet-smelling hair and agony not to run his hands over her.
It wasn't enough but it was all he had, and he wouldn't spoil the chance to spend these last few days and nights as close as possible. Duluth wasn't nearly far enough. Nothing had ever had such a sorrowful effect on his heart as the thought of saying goodbye to Hallie.
Before Hallie, he'd been a little lonely, enough to build a house and send for a wife.
After Hallie…a wide open ache gaped in his chest. After Hallie he would know what lonely really was. Enough to tear down the damned house and burn every last thing that reminded him of her.
Enough to make him the bitter, hard-shelled man he knew he had the capability of being. There was something between them; he'd admitted that to himself. He had no doubt he could get her to stay—not because of any appeal he imagined he held or because of his verbal and sensual skills, but because of the mutual attraction that had developed. Because of the explosive energy that radiated between them and the extraordinary link that had been forged.
He could convince her to stay with a simple declaration of love and the obvious physical needs of their bodies. But that wasn't what he wanted. She would stay, yes, but she would grow to hate the land and the life—and him—and that he could never bear.
So he didn't caress her. Didn't kiss her. Didn't fool himself into thinking that love could bridge cultures and heal differences. Lust wasn't what Hallie needed from him right now. She needed his protection, his capability and experience. And he meant to give her what she needed.
Cooper opened his eyes in the pitch-dark enclosure and wished he could see her sable hair and her ebony lashes resting against her fair skin. He needed all the memories he could get.
Chapter Seventeen
During the day they traveled together like mere acquaintances, speaking only of necessary things. At night they slept wrapped in one another's arms, oblivious to the cold, holding the world at bay. But the world grew closer with each passing mile, and each passing day.
The end of the second week they crossed paths with a band of Chippewa hunters, and Cooper traded tobacco for fresh game. Days later he left her on the bank of the Mississippi with the extra horses and crossed the ice, checking for fissures. Hallie waited impatiently, his bulky, dark form growing smaller against the stark white river. What would happen to her if he fell through a weak spot and didn't return?
She reviewed the possibilities, all of them ending in her grisly death, and squinted against the glare. After what seemed like hours, and probably was, he returned for her and led them to the other bank.
"How much farther?" she panted. They'd dismounted at the bank and guided the animals up the slippery incline.
"We'll be there tonight. You can sleep in a bed."
"And a bath? Will there be hot water?"
"I'll find you some," he promised.
This trip was so different than the one that had brought her here, not only because of the temperature, the scenery and the more direct route, but because of the man she traveled with.
Cooper hadn't been the coarse, smelly old trapper she'd envisioned during the arduous journey west. If only he had been…leaving would have been so much easier.
The smoke from dozens of chimneys and stovepipes curled into the darkening sky. "There it is," Cooper said.
They'd come to a well-traveled road leading into the town.
"Do you think he's there?" Cooper asked. "Your father's man?"
Hallie studied the buildings ahead. "Can we wait until morning to find out?"
She was buying them one more night. One more night before anyone knew where Hallie was and could report back to her father. Cooper agreed, and prodded the tired horses forward.
They found a livery first and left the horses before walking the street lit by yellow lights shining from square-paned windows. Cooper spotted the hotel and led her across the rutted, frozen road.
They entered the building, and Cooper stopped just inside the door. Hallie glanced from his stern face to the rough wooden counter. He didn't make a move, so she crossed and rang the tin cowbell that hung from a wire.
A moment later a robust man with steel gray muttonchops and a shiny bald head parted a faded curtain and peered at them over a bulbous red nose.
"Ma'am," he said, greeting her once she'd pushed back her hood and revealed her hair and face.
"We'd like two rooms, please," she said.
He opened a ledger and turned it toward her, handing her a pen and pushing a bottle of ink forward. "How long will you be staying?"
Hallie signed her name with a flourish. "I'm not sure. Maybe only tonight, but perhaps longer if the person I'm meeting isn't here yet."
"Lookin' for somebody in particular?" he asked.
"I don't know his name," she said, hearing how foolish that sounded. "My father is sending someone to see me to Boston."
"You the Wainwright girl?" He squinted at the ledger. "I am."
"Fella lookin' for you's been here since Tuesday. Said to let him know first thing when you got here."
Hallie gave him her most imploring look. "I would greatly appreciate it if you'd wait until morning. I look a fright and am exhausted from my travels. Could you be a dear and put off notifying him for just a few more hours?"
One side of the fellow's face twitched. "I don't know. Gruber said there'd be a tip in it."
He looked from her to where Cooper hadn't moved from the door. Hallie turned. Cooper's stoic expression was unreadable. She beckoned him forward and finally had to go take his arm. He let his parka fall away from his head. "Sign the book, Cooper," she instructed.
He tugged off his fur mitten and she placed the pen in his fingers.
"This is my cousin, Mr. DeWitt."
The hotel keeper nodded.
"Well, I guess you wouldn't want to lose out on your tip," she said with a sigh, and her gaze slid up to Cooper's.
A flicker of comprehension crossed behind his blue eyes. Parting his heavy coat, he opened a pouch at his waist. He touched a silver coin in question. Hallie nodded and he placed it on the counter.
"Would that compensate?" Hallie asked.
He snatched the coin. "You gotta pay in advance for your rooms, too."
He told Cooper the amount, and Cooper counted the money out.
"She wants a bath," Cooper stated gruffly.
"Two bits more." The bald man handed them each a key and a candle he lit off the lantern hanging over the counter. "Nine and ten."
Cooper dug into his money pouch again, then stared at his key. Hallie took it from his hand and pointed to her satchel and his saddlebags. He picked them up and followed her up the stairs.
She read the room numbers aloud as they passed. "Nine."
Unlocking the door, she gestured for him to walk in. "Leave my bag here."
She lit the lamp on a
washstand with her candle, then blew out the candle.
He set the leather satchel down and looked around. Hallie shrugged out of the heavy coat.
A thin woman tapped on the open door and scurried in with a sling of wood. "I'll get your stoves going and be back with the tub and water."
"I'll do that." Cooper brushed the servant aside and placed the wood in the metal stove, lighting it with his candle.
"Come on." Hallie led him across the hall. The woman appeared again, and once more Cooper did her job.
"I'll be right back," she said, and hurried away.
"I'll help."
Hallie placed her hand on Cooper's chest, stopping him. "Cooper. It's her job."
"But she—"
"She works for her pay like anyone else. Let her earn it. Here, take off your coat."
He draped it over a chair, but remained near the doorway.
His fringed leather garb and knee-high boots won him a long look from the woman when she returned with the metal tub and dragged it into Hallie's room.
"It's a big tub," Hallie observed in a whisper. "Want a bath after me?"
"Do I smell?"
"I probably won't notice until I wash," she said with a grin.
"Maybe I'd better." What would it matter? he thought. They wouldn't be together after tonight, anyway.
"I'll come get you when I'm done." She left him standing in his room, uncomfortable in his surroundings, unwilling to leave her.
Hallie bathed and dressed in clean clothes, luxuriating in the warmth of the stove. She waited in Cooper's room while he used the tub and dressed. Too tired to wait for the woman to dip the water and remove the tub, she wished Cooper a good-night.
"Are you sure you'll be safe alone in there?" he asked.
"I'll be fine. There's a lock on the door. You'll hear if anything happens." What was he thinking? They were in a town now, only feet from her father's hired man. He couldn't expect to share a room.
"Do you have the derringer?"
She pulled it from her pocket and showed him.
"Is it loaded?"
"Yes. Now get some rest."
He glanced up and down the hall. "Lock the door."
"I will. Good night." Closing the door, she turned the key and folded herself into bed.
A rap sounded. Hallie opened her eyes to sunlight streaming through the frayed draperies. Disoriented, she sat and got her bearings.
The rap came again. Men's voices echoed in the hallway. Hallie pulled the coverlet around her shoulders, went to the door and pressed her ear to the wood.
The first voice she heard was Cooper's. She flung open the door.
A tall, dark-haired man in a sheepskin coat turned from an encounter with Cooper. Lines creased his weathered skin. He sported a thick black mustache and a confident manner. "Miss Wainwright?"
"Yes?"
"Tom Gruber." He wrestled a piece of paper away from Cooper and held it out to her. Hallie glanced at the identifying letter in her father's handwriting. "I'm here to see you home."
Hallie stuck her hand into the hall. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gruber."
He gave her hand one brisk shake.
"Where are you planning to go from here?" Cooper asked.
Gruber cast him an annoyed glance. "Who is this man?"
"Cooper DeWitt," Hallie said, introducing him. "Of DeWitt Stage and Freight Company. He brought me here from the Dakotas."
"How are you plannin' to go from here?" Cooper asked again.
"I'm gonna head north and follow the coast till we cross the St. Lawrence."
"Hallie, I want to talk to you." Cooper pushed the door open wider and insinuated himself in her room.
"Wait a minute—" Gruber said.
Cooper closed the door in his face. A knock sounded immediately. Hallie gawked at Cooper. "What are you doing?"
"Look, we don't even know him," Cooper said. "How do we know he can get you there safely?"
"My father wouldn't hire someone who wasn't trustworthy," she explained again.
Gruber's incessant rap pounded.
"He's a total stranger, Hallie. Think about it! Think of your reputation. You can't travel alone with him."
She gaped at him. "Since when did you become my mother?"
He scowled.
"And besides that, I've been alone with you all this time."
"Oh! You're comparing being with him to being with me? Are you gonna cuddle up in his tent with him at night?"
Hallie stared at him in openmouthed wonder. An angry blush warmed her skin.
The knock sounded louder.
Hallie jerked open the door. "Give us a few minutes here, will you? I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast in half an hour."
Gruber gave her a disparaging look and turned away.
"Thank you," she called after him.
"Cooper," she began.
He faced her silently.
"Thank you for getting me here. Thank you for putting up with me and being understanding. I never apologized appropriately for taking advantage of you, by using the ticket and all, I mean. You had every right to be upset with me, and you were very kind. I don't think…" The words were difficult and she gathered her thoughts and emotions. "I won't ever forget the time I spent at Stone Creek. I won't ever forget Chumani or Yellow Eagle…." Without conscious thought she touched the stone on her chest. "Or you."
He said nothing.
"I think it's better for both of us if we say our goodbyes here and go our separate ways," she finished.
She felt his eyes on her, but couldn't meet them.
"Thanks for everything," she said.
At once the room seemed small and chilly, a bare, empty mockery of the warm, wonderful time they'd spent together over the past weeks. Sounds from the street below drifted up through the closed window. Cooking smells wafted through the floors and walls.
Hallie shifted her weight, and the floorboards creaked beneath her feet.
Without a word, without a touch or a backward glance, Cooper let himself out the door.
Hallie stared at the scarred wood until her vision blurred. Fat, warm drops fell to the hands clutching the coverlet at her chest and she looked down to see tears there. Against her skin, the spirit stone burned hot.
It was over. He was gone.
She'd made the break as painless as possible and had no one to blame but herself for winding up in this situation in the first place. It was too late for "what ifs" and "should haves." The only sensible direction to look was forward…and she did so, without much hope that the aching emptiness in her heart would ever be filled.
Time did wonders for Hallie's outlook. Several weeks later she sat in the tearoom at Miss Abernathy's, enjoying lunch with her mother and her mother's bridge friends.
"You'll be at the musicale tomorrow evening, won't you, Hallie?" Constance Mitchell asked, a dusting of sugar clinging to the fine hairs above her lip.
"Oh, well, I—" Hallie began.
"Of course she will," Clarisse Wainwright replied. "She's looking forward to it, aren't you, darling?"
Constance took a sip of tea, and most of the sugar disappeared. "I'm so glad, because Winfred's young nephew will be there. I just know you will adore him. You've hardly greeted the social scene at all since your trip to Philadelphia."
"Yes, well," Hallie responded. "You know those Philadelphians. They simply wore me out."
Constance tittered and Clarisse gave Hallie a warning look. The truth of her whereabouts over the past months wouldn't have been acceptable in polite society. Hallie's mother vowed that if anyone discovered Hallie had been unchaperoned on the frontier or kidnapped by savages, their entire family would never be able to hold up their heads in public again.
Rather than bring disgrace on her family, Hallie had gone along with her mother's version of a trip to visit relatives.
Among her numerous disappointments was the fact that there hadn't been anyone she could share her tales of t
he West with. Her mother got the vapors every time Hallie had tried to talk to her. Her brothers thought her the most foolish girl in all the East and her father…
Well, Samuel saw the newsworthy angle, loved the series of articles, but insisted the byline credits go under a fictitious man's name—to spare Hallie's reputation, of course.
And Hallie had sent her first dime novel manuscript off to New York using the pseudonym, as well.
So what had the whole fiasco gained her? Absently, Hallie stared into her cup of tea. A new appreciation for people and life in all its diversities. A newfound tolerance for other cultures…and herself.
Hallie's fingertips touched the bulky, hard lump beneath the prim white yoke of her blouse. Her mother hadn't been able to convince her to get rid of it or even leave it in a drawer. The rock was her link to the governing spirits, a last tenuous thread to the man she'd left in the Dakotas.
She didn't want to relegate that memory to a drawer. As long as she could touch the stone and feel its heat and magic, she could believe he thought of her, too.
She touched the sicun through her clothing and his name echoed in her head. Cooper. Cooper. What was he doing at this minute? Had he brought a dark-skinned woman home from the reservation to share his bed? Had he read any of the books she'd sent to Yellow Eagle? Did he come home to the log house after checking his traps and feel her absence? Was he sorry he hadn't wanted her to stay?
"—like that lovely blue taffeta," Clarisse was saying. "Too bad it's not spring yet, but you will look stunning in the royal blue crepe with the underskirt."
"It's decided what I'll wear, even," she said to Constance, coming out of her reverie. "I do hope Mr. Mitchell's nephew likes blue."
"He'll adore blue when he sees you in it," Constance cooed.
Hallie held her mother's coat while she slipped into it, donned her own and followed Clarisse to the coach. Her mother chattered and Hallie stared blankly out the crack between the drawn curtain and the side of the window.
A massive form in clothing the color of Cooper's buckskins caught her attention and she jerked the shade up and surveyed the passerby. All ordinary. All occupied with their city business and hurrying along the storefronts.
Badlands Bride Page 25
