by Keta Diablo
His mouth on hers stopped any further comment she cared to make. It occurred to her this was the sort of place she’d expect to see ghosts, but she didn’t see any while she was with Aaron.
Chapter Eleven
The candlelight highlighted Aaron’s face: his square jaw and long, straight nose. She could look at him all day. He stared just as intently at her across the table. In that moment Healy knew in her heart what she wanted.
The evening had been so perfect, like they were the only two people on earth. Riding with their bodies pressed together left her simmering with desire. The ride back stirred all the embers glowing in her belly into a hot blaze.
On the way home Aaron let her take the reins while he sat behind her. The setting sun streaked the sky red and yellow in a fiery display she’d never seen before. With Aaron’s strong arms around her and the feel of him pressed against her back, Healy burned with an internal fire as intense as the Arizona sky during a sunset.
He’d given her his leather gloves to ride with. Sitting on the saddle with their bodies pressed together, Aaron encased Healy from her body to her hands.
When they got back to the hotel, Healy hurried to her room with anticipation, knowing there’d be something special for her there. The magic sleigh didn’t disappoint her.
On the bed was a golden yellow dress, festooned with a spray of red, yellow, orange, apricot, and pink flowers made out of ribbons spiraling up from the hem to one shoulder. Next to the dress sat a pair of slippers with low heels, heavy with beadwork and embroidery.
She picked up the shoes and held them to her chest, sinking down on the feather mattress cover. Healy turned her face toward the dress like the garment was a lover. She plucked a red rose off the dress and it came away with ease.
Healy walked over to the mirror and stuck the flower in her hair. One more thing and she’d be satisfied with her appearance. She loosened one long coil of hair from the back of her head and brought it forward to trail over her collarbone.
Keeping Aaron’s kerchief on her foot, she slipped her foot into the elegant dress shoe after fitting on her new pair of silk stockings. Too bad about the bulge the bandage left under the fine stocking, but she wasn’t taking his kerchief off for anything in the world.
She played back the scene again. His firm, warm hands on her flesh, and the way he studied her bare leg. And now she was going to see him again. Her breathing came fast and shallow as she navigated the stairs to the lobby.
Sitting on the same settee as earlier today, Aaron wore the same suit she’d first seen him in. When he saw her, he stood up with slow grace and rested his hand over his heart, his eyes soft and large. As she walked toward him her silk petticoats made a swishing sound as if they were singing.
Over dinner she heard his story. He spoke quietly as he told her about seeing his family murdered by a gang of outlaws in Texas when he was five years old. He and his older sister, Martha, had hidden in the brush while the murder and torture of their beloved family took place. Though his sister tried to shield him from the sight, he heard every agonizing plea to let them live, every scream, every coarse remark shouted at his family by the bandits.
Later he and his only surviving sister were separated when they were sent off to different relatives. Aaron spent the rest of his youth going between different family members spread throughout the southwest.
Without thinking, Healy put her hand on his during his tale. He looked down at her hand and curled his fingers around hers. Even though she was wearing her kid leather evening gloves, she still felt the warmth of his skin. His eyes stayed trained on her with a thoughtful expression.
They left the restaurant and crossed the lobby with Healy’s arm linked through his elbow. They didn’t speak a word though the air thickened with the tension of silent thoughts. Healy felt weak-kneed and lightheaded. She was sure Aaron heard her heartbeat since it pounded in her own ears so.
Ascending the wide staircase felt interminable. When they were at her door, Aaron turned to face her. "Your room."
Healy studied the man before her wanting to always remember this moment. His eyes searched hers.
She shook her head. "I don’t want to go in there. Will you take me to your room?"
His eyes burned into hers. She closed hers and took in a sharp breath when he lifted his hand to trace her face. Eyes still closed, she felt his breath on her ear.
"I want to make love to you, Miss Healy Harrison," he whispered.
* * *
Her whole body tightened, and then tightened more than she thought possible. She could hear Aaron breathing hard, but other than the sound made by the man above her, everything else in the room became fuzzy as the tension built up below her belly, consuming her senses. Then with a sudden uncoiling her limbs shuddered. Behind her closed eyelids lights and colors flashed. This is what it feels like to be with a man. She put her lips on his bare shoulder and tasted the salt on his skin.
She opened her eyes to see Aaron with his hair falling around his face. Ecstasy contorted his face as he cried out. He collapsed, his body still quivering inside her. When their breathing returned to normal, he rolled off of her, taking her with him, so they lay side by side.
The black hair on Aaron’s chest was springy and crisp. Healy ran her fingernails through it to the soft skin beneath. She let her hand follow the trail of hair down his abdomen but stopped where the sheet came to his waist—though she was still curious about that part of his anatomy.
They explored each other’s bodies at leisure now, their passion spent. Her hair had come half undone and Aaron worked the rest free with one hand while planting soft kisses along her hairline. Her face rested on his other hand. Their legs were still entwined.
Healy made the most of this moment, never dreaming she’d find herself in bed with a man.
And what a man he was. She marveled at his hard, muscular body so different than her own. Her body looked so pink next to his swarthy skin. He had a number of scars on his body, telling the tale of a man who’d lived a hard life. There was a round scar that looked like a bullet wound on his shoulder, and a few slashes like knife wounds on his torso and upper arm. It looked as if Aaron had some stories to tell but she doubted they’d have enough time together for her to hear them all.
"Are you all right?" Aaron asked.
Healy buried her head in his chest to hide her huge grin. "Never been better. That was wonderful." I reached a summit and then floated away in a million pieces. I feel so alive.
"Not that you have any basis for comparison."
She burrowed in further, smelling the musky odor coming off his body.
He cupped her chin and brought her face up to meet his eyes. "You should have told me."
"I thought it was obvious I was innocent."
"You don’t exactly come across as innocent."
"Don’t I?" she asked, surprised.
"No, I find you very seductive."
"Losing my virginity to you isn’t something I regret."
"It might have made a difference to me if I’d known."
She raised herself up on an elbow. "Because you like experienced woman? Did I disappoint you?"
"You don’t disappoint. At all. But if I’d known it was your first time, I would have...slowed down. Made sure you were ready."
"I felt ready."
He chuckled. "You did at that. Still, I would have thought you’d want to save yourself for a special time."
"This is a special time."
"I mean with a special man—like one you’re married to."
"Aaron, you are a special man. Listen to me. I expect being with you tonight will be my one and only time being with a man."
His eyes widened. "Aw, how can you say that? You’re a young woman."
"Yes, but...I’m different than most women. Men don’t seem to be interested in romancing me."
"I am! And I’m particular about who I bed down with. I just wish I’d known before things were out of my control."
Healy noted the tinge of annoyance in his voice. "So, if you’d known I was a virgin, you wouldn’t have taken me?"
"I’m not sure what I’d have done, but I hope I would’ve done the right thing. I wanted you so bad from the first time I met you, but still...."
"Still what? You sound like you have regrets."
"I honestly don’t know how I feel. At the moment I feel pretty good, but...I...oh, hell, I feel responsible for you now, and I’m not a man to get tied down."
Shame burned through her like a red-hot poker. "Did I ask you for anything? I plan on going back to my life in St. Louis, and the only thing I’m taking from you is the memory of what I thought was a fleeting encounter, because that’s all it was. A fleeting encounter between two adults who found themselves in the same place at the same time."
Anger flashed in his eyes. "Is that right? This represents only a fleeting encounter to you."
"I guess so. Same as I’m only an unwanted responsibility to you."
Healy jumped out of bed, suddenly humiliated to be naked in front of this man. She pulled the top cover off the bed and wrapped herself in it as she gathered her clothes off the floor. Abandoned articles of clothing littered the floor where they had been dropped. Trying to gather them up seemed to take an eternity, but she moved fast, rueful how many garments a lady had to wear compared to men.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to my own room."
"Aw, Healy, gal, come on. Come back to bed."
Healy was already out the door and marching down the hall wrapped in the bed cover. She entered her room and locked the door behind her. Tears burned behind her eyes now and her throat tightened so she could hardly swallow.
A rapping sounded on the wall separating their rooms. "Healy?" came a muffled voice, then "Oh, hell."
She heard his door open and close. Seconds later, Aaron pounded on her door. Healy backed away and sat on her bed. "Will you open up, please?"
"No! Go away!"
"Don’t make me break this door down!"
The door shuddered as Aaron threw his body against it. Healy dropped the cover from her body and slid her nightgown over her head. "Stop! I’m opening it."
She swung open the door and met a wild-looking Aaron in a nightshirt. His hair stood in disarray and fire burned in his eyes.
She shoved the bedcover at him, pushing him out into the hall. When she tried to close the door on him, he grabbed her arm and tried to push her back into the room.
The door across the hall opened and a slight, older man in a robe stared at Aaron. "Is this man bothering you?"
"He was, but he’s not going to do so anymore. Goodnight and goodbye, Aaron."
He looked her in the eye, hurt blazing in his. She stared him down.
"I’m not done bothering you yet, but I’m backing off...for now," he said.
With that he walked back to his room backwards, his dark eyes boring into hers.
Chapter Twelve
The hall appeared empty. Healy stepped out and proceeded with caution to the head of the staircase. Someone had tapped on her door this morning but she ignored it.
When whoever knocked on her door appeared to be gone, she’d gotten dressed. Today she’d left her travel suit to air and refashioned the riding skirt so it was a full skirt. With the short, tight fitting jacket, it could pass for a suit. When she looked at her image in the mirror, she shrugged. I’m in the west now. Thinking how she’d changed from the girl who left St. Louis, she redid the buttons dividing the skirt into a riding outfit again. Anyway, her ankle fit better in the riding boots.
She looked at herself in the mirror to see if she detected a change in herself. At first glance, she looked much the same, but on closer inspection, she discerned a new look in her eyes. She’d experienced passion and hurt, which were also reflected in her eyes. But there was now strength and knowledge there as well. Yes, she would return to St. Louis a changed woman.
At the top of the landing, she hid behind a large potted palm and scanned the lobby. Her stomach flipped when she spotted Aaron. He sat in his usual spot, foot tapping, knee bouncing. He turned the hat around in his hands, and his hair was tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it.
He stood up and paced the lobby, glancing up frequently but not seeing her. Some detective! Damn, how am I going to get past him?
The only thing that had dragged her out of her bed of sorrow this morning was the fact Charlie would be picking her up first thing this morning.
She steeled herself, thinking there was no course of action other than to stride past him, when a man approached Aaron. The man handed him a note. He’s got his telegram. Now maybe he’ll be on his way.
But then she thought of the scars on his body. He’d likely be headed someplace he’d be in danger. The thought made her want to run to him.
He took his time reading the telegram. Then he raised his head and blinked into the air for a few seconds, his jaw unhinged. He looked down at the telegram again, rereading it. His head shot up in her direction, but he didn’t see her.
Healy was tempted to step out in sight. She wanted to know where he’d been sent. He looked frightened, and there wasn’t much that scared that man, she imagined.
She’d made up her mind to show herself and go to him, when he crumpled the telegram into a ball and shoved it in his pocket. He moved off at a fast pace, and before she could catch his eye, he’d left the lobby.
Chapter Thirteen
"She knows why I’m mad at her," said Abbott, being a stubborn cuss.
He looked worse today than yesterday and confessed even if they weren’t having the séance today, he’d be resting up.
Healy felt a headache coming on and pressed her temples with the heels of her hands. Cora looked on her with sympathy. Healy could see Cora clearly today—now she was done with that crazy Aaron and could focus on work again.
"Your wife claims she doesn’t know why you’re angry, and I am also clueless on the subject. Why don’t you share with us what happened to make you so angry?"
Abbott crossed his arms tight across his chest and set his jaw.
Healy placed her hands on the table and stared at him. Today she felt all the power of her womanhood within her being—and it was a mighty power. Abbott was no match for her as she stared him down.
He flinched "Oh, all right. I’m mad at Cora for leaving me."
"Do I take it to mean Cora walked out on you before her death?"
"No," Abbot said with deliberate patience. "I mean Cora left me when she died."
"The dead can’t help...."
The sound of Abbott’s fist hitting the table made her jump. "She kilt herself!"
Cora waved her hands in a frantic motion and the words tumbled out of her so fast, Healy had to strain to catch them all.
Healy listened and then nodded. "She is insulted you think she’d kill herself and wants to remind you she was a God-fearing woman who would never commit such a sin."
Abbott’s mouth flew open. "But I found her at the bottom of the cliff. She had no cause to be up there. Cora was afraid of heights. And snakes. Those rocks are full of snakes. There was only one reason for her to climb up there."
Healy put a hand in the air. "She says she had her reasons."
"Is she going to tell me?"
Healy looked back at Cora. The woman had her arms across her chest and her head turned away.
"If you two aren’t the most stubborn...Let’s change the conversation a moment. "Abbott’s anger isn’t really the issue. We need to get to the bottom of why Cora can’t move on. Cora, what is keeping you on the mortal plane? Is it because you were wrongly accused of killing yourself?"
Abbott, looked in the general direction of Cora but missed his mark. "I didn’t tell anyone, Cora. I wouldn’t shame you like that."
Cora was so clear now Healy could see the pink flowers in her light gray gingham dress— much more suitable attire for a rancher’s wife, she noted.<
br />
She turned to Abbott. "Can’t you see her?"
"No."
Cora’s lips trembled as if she was going to cry. Healy sensed she had her where she wanted her. "Cora," she said in a gentle voice. "What’s troubling you?"
Healy listened to the other woman’s heartbroken tale before turning to Abbott. "She wonders what she did to make you stop loving her."
Abbott went a shade paler. "Why would she think that? I never stopped loving her. I still do. Losing Cora was the worst thing that ever happened to me."
At that tender moment, Erline entered the room, carrying a tray. Cora evaporated. "I thought you’d like some coffee."
Healy’s head throbbed with fatigue. She was grateful for the coffee even if it did disrupt the action. Erline filled two enamel mugs with coffee from the pot as she eyed Healy and Abbott with eyes full of suspicion.
"Thank you," said Healy.
Erline nodded and left. Healy raised the steaming mug of coffee to her lips and stopped. How could she have missed it? The unmistakable scent of almond wafted up, filling her nostrils. The same odor she’d smelled on Abbott yesterday, but couldn’t place—because her mind had been otherwise engaged with a tall, dark, and handsome Pinkerton detective.
She put her mug down and all but knocked the mug out of Abbott’s hands. "Don’t drink that!"
"But I’m feeling poorly."
"I know you are. Look at me. A ghost isn’t your only problem. Get Charlie to take me back to town right now."
"Why? We’re just gettin’ somewhere."
"There’s someone I have to speak to. It’s urgent. And, Abbott, while I’m gone don’t eat or drink anything you haven’t fixed with your own hands."
He ran his fingers through his hair, about to say something. When his hand came away with a big clump of his hair, he looked at it in confusion.
Chapter Fourteen
Healy searched the hotel, even knocking on Aaron’s door. He was nowhere to be found. His horse was gone from the stables as well. In frustration she penned a note and took it to the front desk. "Has Mr. Turrell checked out?"
