by Cat Cahill
Caroline turned. There, standing opposite the drunk man, was a tall, broad-shouldered man. He was neatly dressed, and a metal star sat perched on his gray jacket.
“Lawman,” the drunk fellow said unnecessarily. “I ain’t doing anything. Just having a conversation with these here girls.”
“Conversations don’t generally involve ladies hitting gentlemen,” the tall man said, his deep voice steady and with an undercurrent of danger. “Unhand her or I’ll help you find the sheriff here. I’m on my way there myself, so it wouldn’t be any extra burden.”
The man’s grip slackened before his hand fell away completely. He said nothing as he lumbered to the door and out of the restaurant.
“Thank you,” Caroline said, smoothing her skirt to hide the nerves that still made her hands tremble.
“Yes, thank you, although we were perfectly able to handle him ourselves,” Penny added, although Caroline detected just a hint of wobble in her voice.
“You’re welcome. I don’t take kindly to ladies being harassed. Now I wonder if you couldn’t do me a favor—I’ve only just arrived in town—and tell me where the county sheriff’s office is?”
“I wish we could,” Caroline said, “but we’re only visiting Cañon City.” She sat, her legs feeling as if she’d just gotten off a cross-country train ride.
“I apologize. I assumed you were residents of this fine town.” The sheriff tapped his hat against his thigh as he glanced around the restaurant, presumably looking for other men he could boot from the establishment before turning his gaze back on Penny and Caroline. “Are you here long?”
“Only for the day. We’re employed with the Gilbert Company in Crest Stone.” Penny’s chin lifted with pride.
“Ah, I see. A fine company. I may end up down that way if I don’t find who I’m after here.”
Penny’s eyes widened. “Are you searching for an outlaw?”
“Indeed. The man who murdered my predecessor. He’s known as Tom the Cat.”
Caroline’s heart nearly lurched to a stop.
The man was after Thomas.
Chapter Seventeen
The moon rode high in a sky pricked with stars as Thomas waited with a horse for Caroline. She’d found him in the kitchens as he stood, scarfing down a bowl of beef stew. Her eyes darting around the room, she told him she needed to speak with him alone as soon as possible. He didn’t ask her why, although he hoped it was because she had an idea that hadn’t yet occurred to him about how to prove his innocence. Although, if he were being honest, the way his heart lifted at her request had nothing to do with his past problems and everything to do with spending more time in Caroline’s presence. He’d suggested meeting outside, late, and now here he was.
As the minutes ticked by, he feared she’d changed her mind. She’d told him that the Gilbert Girls were expected to be in their rooms by ten o’clock each night. And then, of course, there was the not so small fact that she wasn’t supposed to be spending time with him at all, and especially not alone. He was asking a lot of her to meet him out here.
Thomas sighed and checked his pocket watch with his free hand. It was ten minutes past eleven. Perhaps she wasn’t coming. She’d either come to her senses and decided to leave well enough alone with him, or she’d been prevented from leaving in some way. He hoped it was the latter. He clucked to the horse, and just as they’d taken a step forward, Caroline emerged from around the corner of the hotel. Thomas caught his breath. She looked like an angel with the moonlight making her hair shine a white gold. Her simple cream calico dress almost glowed.
“Is this your horse?” she asked. “He’s beautiful.” She ran a hand down the horse’s red-brown neck, and he nickered in return.
“I wish, but he belongs to the company. Do you ride?”
She made a face, then laughed. “Terribly. To be honest, I’m a bit nervous on horseback. I took a fall as a child, and I fear I’ve never recovered from it.”
“This shouldn’t be quite so exciting. All you have to do is hold on. I’ll take care of the horse.”
“Hold on?” She glanced at the horse, then at him. Her eyes widened as if she’d just figured out what he meant. “I can’t . . . I mean, we shouldn’t . . . It really isn’t proper . . .”
Thomas laughed. Her loss for words was endearing. “You try so hard to hold on to what you were taught is acceptable, even though you left that life far behind you.”
She straightened and put her hands on her hips. “Part of the Gilbert Girls’ work here is to bring civilization to a wild place.”
“And you are. But out here . . .” He opened one arm wide as he held the horse’s reins with the other. “Some of those old rules no longer apply. You need to relax a little.”
“Are you implying I’m too prim?” If she could draw herself up any taller, she’d maybe meet his chin.
He grinned. “No . . . not particularly.”
One hand dropped from her hips, and for a moment, he thought she’d swat him. He almost wished she would. It would be good for her.
“All I’m saying is that this is nothing more than a horseback ride to a place we can sit and converse without worrying about who will overhear.”
“A horseback ride together,” she corrected him.
“If you prefer, I can ride and you can walk alongside me.” He laughed when her mouth fell open, then decided to try another tack. “I dare you, Miss Caroline Beauchamp, to get on this horse with me.”
She pressed her lips together. “Fine. But if anything untoward—”
“For the love of all creation, just get on the horse!”
She stepped forward and placed one hand on the saddle. “I . . . oh!”
Thomas had placed both hands on her waist to lift her up. He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that wanted him to pull her to him. Instead, he lifted her just high enough that she could reach the saddle.
Caroline arranged herself so she sat sideways on the saddle facing Thomas.
He lifted his hat to push his hair back from his face. “Honey, you can’t sit like that. There’s no room for me.”
Her face blanched. “What did you just call me?”
What did he call her? Honey. He could’ve kicked himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Are you going to sit up there the right way or not?”
“I can’t sit astride.” Her face had contorted into a look of absolute horror.
It was enough to make him forget his indiscretion as the smile fought its way across his lips. “If you sit up near the front, you can wrap a leg around the horn. It’s not the same, but it’s as close as you’re going to get.” When she didn’t move, he added, “Remember where you are?”
She closed her eyes a second. “The old rules don’t apply.” Her words were so quiet, it was almost as if she were speaking to herself. She drew a deep breath, grabbed hold of the saddle horn to pull herself forward, and then slung one leg around it. No matter how she arranged them, her skirts didn’t quite cover her ankles. Thomas knew the immodesty had to be eating her up inside. “Satisfied?” she asked, her face pink in the moonlight.
Her irritation at something so trite made him grin. “I am, thank you.” He pulled himself up to sit behind her.
She gasped as he slid his arms around her to take the reins. Having her this close to him was unnerving. She was so warm and small in his arms, and it immediately made him think of that afternoon by the creek when he’d held her as she cried.
He took a few deep breaths. He’d never make it to the spot he’d picked out if he couldn’t get his mind off her mere closeness.
He clucked to the horse, and they headed south. A tremble shuddered through her body, so small he almost didn’t notice. Then there was another one. And another.
She was frightened.
Of course. He could’ve smacked himself for forgetting. “You’re safe, I promise. It’s awfully hard to fall off a horse going this slow, especially when you’ve got me right here.”
She sighed so quiet
ly, he wouldn’t have heard her if the night hadn’t been so still. But slowly, she relaxed. The trembling stopped, her shoulders dropped, and she even let her back give in until she was braced against his chest. At least until she realized what she’d done and straightened back up again.
He veered to the left about a mile in, and there it was behind two lone cottonwood trees—a tiny, one-room log cabin.
“Who lives here?” Caroline asked as he reined up the horse just outside of it.
“No one. It’s abandoned. Someone tried to make a go of ranching here several years ago. They likely moved north, where the other ranches are.” He slid off and held out his hands to help her. She clasped them, and he tried not to think about how small they felt in his own.
Once on the ground, she let go and straightened her skirts before looking back up at the little cabin, her eyes taking the whole thing in. “It’s adorable.”
His heart lifted as he tied the horse to one of the posts on the front porch. He’d hoped she would like it, but had also been prepared for her to be horrified at its size or its remoteness, or the fact that no one had lived in it for years.
“But what are we doing here?” She lifted her face to look at him.
“We’re borrowing the place.” He reached for the saddlebags. “For a small picnic.”
Caroline’s face broke into a smile, and a jolt of glee flooded Thomas. He’d do anything to have her smile at him. Something about it lit him up inside in a way he hadn’t felt since his father had been alive.
“Shall we sit on the porch?” she asked.
“You’ll be pleased to know I already have us set up inside, at a proper table.” He crooked his elbow as if he were a gentleman at one of those balls she was likely used to back East. “May I escort you to your seat?”
She chewed her lip as she hung back on the lowest step to the porch. “We’d be alone inside, and—”
“It’s not appropriate?” He tilted his head and gave her his best innocent grin. “I believe we’ve already established that you need to do away with your high societal standards. It’s nearly midnight, and no one is awake but us and the coyotes. Your reputation is safe. If you trust me, that is. Do you trust me?”
She blinked at him, her pretty face set into thought. A moment went by where all Thomas could hear was the beating of his own heart, the chill wind raking through the cottonwoods, and, as if to remind them what Thomas had said was true, the distant howl of a coyote.
“I trust you,” Caroline finally said.
Thomas had never wanted to hear three words more than those. As Caroline closed the few steps between them and slid her arm into his, he thought his heart might burst.
He had never been happier than he was in this moment.
“Our picnic awaits,” he said as he led her into the cabin.
Chapter Eighteen
Caroline was fairly certain her mouth was hanging open in a most unladylike manner when Thomas lit a lamp inside the old cabin. He had spared no detail. He’d covered the small table in a white cloth that looked suspiciously like the ones in the Crest Stone Hotel Restaurant. Two silver candleholders held white candles, which Thomas lit as Caroline stood back by the door. He’d set the table in china that was exactly the sort that sat upon the restaurant’s tables.
“I know what you’re thinking. Have no fear, I’ll return it all clean and in one piece. No one will ever know it was missing.” He extinguished the lit match and pulled out one of the chairs for her.
“Thank you,” she said. He pushed the chair in as she sat. “This really is lovely. Where did you find the flowers?” The valley had been bereft of flowers since the first frost.
“They’re dried. One of the maids enjoys making those little silk bags with dried flower petals.”
“Sachets?” Caroline said.
“That’s it. She gave me a few of her finds.”
Caroline tried to contain her surprise. He’d put a lot of effort into this. The light was dim, but she was almost certain he’d even swept the floor and dusted the other surfaces around them. It was going to be difficult enough already to tell him what had happened in Cañon City, and now she hated to ruin the evening by sharing such dour news.
He bowed, the saddlebag still slung over his arm. “For dinner tonight, miss, we have bread, a selection of cheeses, sliced ham, and fine aged water. Shall I pour you a glass?”
She giggled, and from nowhere, he produced a pitcher of water and poured the liquid into her glass. “Thank you, sir.”
From the saddlebag, he pulled out brown paper packages filled with the food of which he’d spoken and placed some on each of their plates. Caroline waited until he was seated before she picked up a knife to slice a piece of bread. But the knife remained suspended above her food as Thomas lifted his hunk of bread and proceeded to tear a piece off with his teeth. He then rolled up a slice of meat on his fork and took a large bite of it.
“What?” he asked once he’d swallowed.
Caroline finally put her knife down. She wasn’t certain how to broach the subject without hurting his feelings. He’d told her his mother had left when he was young, and it was clear his father had never taken the time to teach him proper table manners.
She drew in a breath and clasped her hands in her lap under the table. An idea blossomed, and she plunged ahead with it. “Do you remember how you told me you wished to own a business?”
He nodded and slurped some water.
Caroline pushed her lips together, cringing. “If you did, you’d be a businessman, a pillar of some town or another. Respected by other townsfolk and meeting regularly with other men of similar societal rank.”
Thomas smiled, as if the idea pleased him, and then laughed. “I’m sure they’d see right through me.”
“Nonsense.” Caroline raised her knife again as she spoke and began slicing a bite-sized piece of bread onto her plate. “All you have to do is act like them. Anyone could learn. Then, as far as they’d know, your background would be no different from theirs.”
Thomas watched her slice off a bit of cheese, place it on the bread, and then spear both bread and cheese with a fork.
“I could . . . teach you. If you’d like.”
He scratched at the stubble on his face, as if he were thinking about it.
“It’s simple, really.” Caroline looked up at him through her lashes. “After all, you’re teaching me how to lose some of my insistence on what’s proper. Why shouldn’t I help you learn what I know?”
“All right, then. Teach me to eat like the wealthy.”
She almost couldn’t believe he agreed. “First lesson. Cut your food into pieces, one at a time.” She demonstrated again, and he followed suit. “Lesson two, never use your hands. Always use a fork.”
“What if I’m having soup?” He gave her a crooked smile.
She laughed. “Then of course you use a spoon. Next time, we’ll go over the use of each utensil.”
“Next time?”
Her face went warm, and she turned all of her attention to her food. She didn’t know where that had come from. Perhaps his lessons were sinking in. He watched her as she cut a piece of ham. When she looked up, his eyes were still on her.
“You look lovely tonight.”
An even warmer blush rose to her cheeks. And here she thought she looked a mess, her hair hastily put up in the dark and wearing the simplest dress she owned. She’d had to sneak out of the room she shared with Penny. “Thank you,” she finally said, her eyes still on her plate. When she looked up again, he was still watching her. His eyes were a dark gray in the candlelight. She marveled at how they seemed to change colors from day to day. But now . . . they seemed to darken even more as he looked at her.
His jaw worked, almost as if he wanted to say something. She remained quiet, waiting for him. Finally, he spoke. “I wanted to thank you for trusting me. Not just here, tonight. But since the day you found out about what happened at Barrett Mountain. You’ve believed in me, wh
ich is far more than I ever expected anyone to do.”
“Of course I do.” Caroline’s hands fell to the napkin in her lap. “You’ve done nothing but be honest with me. How could I not want to help you?”
He watched her so intently, no hint of teasing or joking to hide his pain, that it almost split her heart in two. “You’re the only one.”
She twisted the napkin in her hands. She had to tell him about Cañon City. It was his life on the line, and he deserved to know someone was looking for him. “Something happened when I went into town on Sunday.”
“Oh?” Thomas sat back in his chair, his plate now empty.
“Penny and I were having dinner in a little restaurant when a drunken man accosted us.”
Thomas sat forward, his face going dark. “Accosted you? What did he do, exactly?”
She swallowed. Even thinking about that horrible man’s hand wrapped around her wrist made her feel sick. “He was under the impression that we were . . . well . . . not well-bred ladies. He grabbed hold of me—”
Thomas stood up and began pacing. “Did he do anything else? I promise you he’ll regret it.”
Caroline shook her head, although her heart warmed at his protectiveness. “There’s no need for that. Another man—a sheriff from some other town—came to our rescue and dispatched him right away. That is, after I slapped the drunkard.”
He finally stopped pacing, but he didn’t sit. “If he ever bothers you again, I want you to tell me immediately.”
“I will, but only if you promise not to act brashly.”
“I can’t promise such a thing.” He stood there, his face in shadows, and she knew he was telling the truth. Caroline prayed she’d never see that man again. The last thing Thomas needed was another burden on his soul. His face relaxed a little. “Did you really slap him?”
“I did.” Caroline lifted her chin. She wanted to revel in the look of pride he gave her, but there was something else Thomas needed to know. She pushed her chair back and stood too. Perhaps this would be easier if she was on her feet. She placed a hand on the back of her chair and looked Thomas in the eye. “The sheriff who came to our rescue mentioned he was looking for Tom the Cat.”
