by Cat Cahill
Ben offered to take first watch. One by one, the others went to sleep between heavy down and wool blankets. The night was clear, and Ben entertained himself by finding the constellations his mother had taught him about years ago in San Francisco.
“What are you searching for?” Penny asked softly.
He glanced down. She was sitting up across from him, the blankets wrapped around her. “Nothing in particular. Just searching out the stars.”
“Do you mean the North Star?” She looked up to the sky.
“Yes, and the constellations. It helps me stay awake.”
“The only ones I know are the bears and Orion,” she said.
“There are so many more.” Ben paused, and then dove ahead. “Do you want me to show you?”
She stood in the darkness and stepped around the sleeping forms of the rest of their party. Ben moved over some on the saddle blanket so she wouldn’t have to sit directly on the ground.
He raised his head, trying to focus on the stars and not how near she was to him. “See that W?”
She scanned the sky and nodded, pointing. “There. What is that?”
“Cassiopeia, the queen. And her husband, Cephus, the king, is . . .” His eyes roved the mess of twinkling stars above them. “There. He looks like a child’s drawing of a house.”
Penny searched, her pointing finger moving as she went. “I can’t find it.”
Ben wrapped his hand around hers and guided it to the right spot. “Can you see it?” He used her hand to trace the outline.
“I . . . I see it.” Her voice was garbled, and that’s when he realized her hands were bare. And freezing.
“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” he asked, to keep his focus off the fact that his bare hand rested around hers.
“I was warm enough under the blankets. Why aren’t you wearing gloves?” she countered.
A laugh worked its way up Ben’s throat, but he forced it down, smiling instead. This woman was a handful, that was certain. Quick to speak, quick to find herself in trouble. What was it with him and women who flouted all convention? He was out here in the November night, chasing after a sister who did as she pleased, sitting on his blankets next to another woman who couldn’t give a whit about what he or anyone else thought of her.
He guided her hand down to rest on the blankets. But he didn’t remove his from covering hers. A beat passed, and she didn’t pull it away. In fact, she turned her hand over so that her fingers interlaced with his. A jolt of something electric shot through him as he realized how much she trusted him. He wanted to pull the world down around them and cover her with the starry sky to keep her hidden from Hagan.
“You didn’t answer me,” she said.
When he looked at her blankly, still fighting the urge to crush her to his chest and whisper promises of safety, she laughed quietly. “Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”
His head cleared some, and he patted the gun in his belt. “I need to be able to shoot quick. Can’t do that with gloves on.”
Her hand reflexively gripped his a little tighter, and fire raced through him again.
“Are you a good shot?” she asked.
He nodded. It was part of his job; there was no reason to be humble. “Pretty good.”
“I’d like you to teach me.” She looked away quickly, and although he couldn’t see it in the shadows of the night, he imagined her face going pink as she realized the directness of her words. “I mean, if you can. If you’d like to.”
“I’d be honored.”
She slowly turned back toward him, a smile alighting her face in the darkness. And he decided he liked her boldness. There was no dancing around, trying to figure out what she was thinking or what she wanted. Once, before he’d come to the Colorado Territory, he’d bought a bouquet of flowers for a pretty girl. She’d thanked him, and then refused to speak to him for a week. Finally, after asking about a hundred questions of her friends, he’d learned she disliked the color yellow. He had a feeling Penny wouldn’t pull such a trick.
“Perhaps after we return, before I go back to Cañon City.” The unspoken words indicated he would have Adelaide with him—that this venture would be a success. He said a quick prayer that his thoughts would come true.
“Thank you. I’d like that.” She held his gaze for a moment, and just as he was wondering if she was able to see everything he thought, she asked, “Did you always want to become a sheriff?”
He chuckled softly. “No, I wanted to be a businessman like my father when I was a boy. It was only after I grew restless in San Francisco, left to work odd jobs here and there, and finally landed in Cañon City that I felt any call toward being a lawman.” He paused, reflecting. “In fact, I’d never thought of it until Harry over there told me I should run for the position a while back. Everyone knew me as a crack shot, and no one ran against me.”
“You’re from San Francisco?” she asked, her eyes wide. When he nodded, she said, “I’ve heard it’s a lovely place.”
“It is. But it’s crowded. Some days I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.”
“I can see that. I felt the same way back home. Wilmington in North Carolina,” she supplied, answering his unspoken question. “So many people, and they’re all wanting to know everyone else’s business.”
He grinned. “That’s a city for you. Although, if we’re being honest, I’ve felt that way at times in Cañon City. But at least there I can escape into the wilderness from time to time.”
“Like this?” Penny waved her free hand around them.
“Like this.” But his eyes were on her.
As if she felt his gaze, she turned toward him. And never mind all the danger that existed for anyone close to him, all he wanted to do was reach for her face and kiss her.
Chapter Sixteen
Penny drew in a deep breath as Ben’s eyes searched hers. It felt as if there was something drawing them closer, and heaven help her, she didn’t want to fight it. If he pulled her to him right now, she would let him.
But it appeared that Ben had more sense than she did. He cleared his throat and looked away, and the moment broke. Even though his hand remained intertwined with hers, Penny felt as if something wonderful had been snatched from her.
Foolish, she told herself, as she, too, dropped her eyes to anywhere but Ben. Wasn’t this the entire reason Caroline and Mr. Drexel had come along, to prevent this sort of thing? A whole lot of good that did. She had a reputation that would ruin his life—and a position to keep at the hotel—and she’d do well to remember that.
Still, she didn’t pull her hand away from his.
“Why did you come here?” Ben asked, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry, that’s intrusive. Feel free to slap me.”
Penny laughed quietly, her heart instantly lightened at both his curiosity about her and his wit. She weighed the question a moment, wondering how much of the truth to share with him. She couldn’t bear it if he looked at her differently, if he believed the rumors that swirled about her as she left Wilmington. She’d been so careful when she interviewed for the Gilbert Company, traveling all the way to Raleigh so they couldn’t get wind of what she’d left behind at home. Penny had been determined to start anew.
“I needed a change,” she said slowly. “Wilmington became too . . . close. I didn’t like the gossip. And I had few desirable prospects for employment.” The last part was true, even if it wasn’t the primary reason she left.
“The Gilbert Company has an excellent reputation,” Ben said.
Penny nodded, thankful he’d focused on that part of her explanation rather than the other. “The wages are fair, and there is opportunity to gain more responsibility and even better pay.”
“You really do love your work.” He phrased it as a statement rather than a question, and he was right.
“I do,” Penny said. “Granted, I don’t always enjoy every single customer, but for the most part, it’s exciting to meet new people every day.”
“I doub
t you’d let anyone get away with being rude to you.” He said the last part with a grin she could just barely see in the darkness.
Penny returned his smile. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I usually hold my tongue. And my coffeepot. Although I admit it isn’t easy.” It was against her nature to let anyone get away with bad behavior, but in the interests of keeping her job, Penny had learned quickly not to react.
“Wait, are you saying I angered you so much, you couldn’t possibly hold back?” Ben raised his eyebrows, as if he couldn’t believe it to be true.
“I don’t take too kindly to being dismissed. Or being forced onto a horse when I’m simply out taking the air. Most of my customers do neither of those things.”
His hand squeezed hers. “I should hope not.”
“Do you enjoy being a sheriff?”
“I do. Most of the time.” He looked off toward the west. “I don’t much care for how it puts those I love in danger.” With that, he pulled his hand from hers and shifted on the blanket.
Penny tried to ignore how cold her hand suddenly felt. She wasn’t certain if his words were meant for her. They couldn’t be. They’d spoken no words of love. Although she had allowed him to take her hand . . . that meant something, didn’t it?
Ignoring the fact that she shouldn’t have even let him do that, Penny decided his words referred to Adelaide. After all, she was the one he loved who was in danger.
Her heart ached when she looked at his face. She was just close enough to him that she could see the worry had etched lines on his forehead, and it took everything in her not to reach up and smooth them out with her fingertips. Allowing him to hold her hand was danger enough for her. If her past had taught her anything, it was that men often assumed far more from a simple gesture.
But Ben didn’t seem that sort of man, at all. If she turned away from him now, he might be upset, but he hardly seemed the sort to seek revenge through either words or actions. Although, she reminded herself, she’d thought she could trust a man before and he’d proven her wrong. But that man wasn’t anything like Ben. There was something about the way Ben looked at her, as if she were someone important, someone worth protecting, that told her he was different. She could trust him.
“You’ll find Adelaide,” she said. “I know it.”
“I hope you’re right.” He absently tapped his fingers on his knee.
“She’s brave and she’s smart,” Penny said. “She’s taking care of herself until you find her.”
Ben nodded as he stared into the darkness. Finally, he turned to her. “You should get some rest.”
For a moment, Penny felt as if she’d been dismissed again. Until he reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for sitting up with me.”
“You’re welcome, Ponderosa.”
He blinked at her, then laughed quietly. “A tree?”
“A strong tree. They survive fires. And did you know that even though porcupines rub the bark off the trunk of the Ponderosa, the tree still endures? They remind me of you.” She smiled at his baffled expression before returning to her blankets. When she fell asleep, it was with the memories of his hand on hers and the intense way he’d gazed at her.
THE MORNING DAWNED cold but clear. Penny had never wished so hard for something warm to drink, but a fire was still too dangerous. After a quick breakfast of some of the meat and bread brought from the hotel, they made their way to the creek. Caroline was to sit with Penny, as they’d all agreed their pretense would be more believable if Penny was out with a friend than all alone, especially this far south of the hotel.
They’d cleared a small area of snow and laid blankets on the ground as Ben tied the women’s horses to nearby trees. The idea was that Penny and Caroline had been traveling together, when one of them injured her ankle and they’d stopped by the creek to treat it. At least, that was how it was supposed to look to Hagan or any of his men who happened by.
Tiller donated his scarf to the cause, and Caroline wrapped it around Penny’s ankle. Ben placed nosebags with plenty of food around the horses’ necks, and the girls got as comfortable as they could on the blankets, with Penny’s wrapped leg outstretched.
Ben squatted in front of them, his dark hair curling out from under his hat. “I’ll always be nearby, hidden in the trees. The rest will be down past the tree line, waiting on the signal. All you need to do is wait, and we’ll take care of everything else.”
Beside Penny, Caroline clasped her hands in her lap. Mr. Drexel had already retreated with the other men, after embracing her and asking her at least ten times if she was certain she wanted to do this.
Penny pressed her lips together. They were beginning to chap from the cold, and her cheeks burned with the incessant freezing air. At least here, by the creek, they didn’t get the same wind as they had in the valley.
“You’ll be safe, I promise.” Ben laid a hand briefly on Penny’s arm before seemingly realizing that Caroline was there also, seeing everything. He quickly pulled it away and stood up perfectly straight, every inch the lawman. Just looking at him made Penny check her posture.
“I’ll be right over there.” He pointed past the creek, toward a copse of aspens and pines.
When he disappeared from sight, Caroline pulled on a pair of wool mittens while Penny arranged her “injured” leg just so.
“Now, tell me what that was all about,” Caroline said.
“What do you mean?” Even as she played dumb, Penny knew Caroline saw through it.
“I heard you whispering together last night.” Caroline gave her a little smile. “It sounds as if you’ve become quite good friends.”
Penny swallowed. Caroline had been in a similar position. She’d understand. And she’d certainly keep Penny’s confidence. Although admitting her thoughts felt so . . . honest. If she said the words out loud, could she ever deny her feelings again? Perhaps she could just share the facts with Caroline and leave her heart out of it.
Penny plunged forward, confessing everything to Caroline, from their first meeting on the mountain to last night when she’d let him wrap his hand around hers. When she finished, she was out of breath even though she’d done nothing but sit still and talk.
“How do you feel about him?” Caroline asked.
“He’s infuriating,” Penny replied, tucking the end of the scarf more securely under her leg. “Overprotective. Demanding.” She paused. There was so much more to him that that. And suddenly, she wanted Caroline to know everything. “But thoughtful, fiercely loyal, and dedicated. He’s also quite handsome.”
Caroline, always the proper lady, blushed slightly at Penny’s words, but smiled. “You care for him.”
Penny pulled the coat tighter around her.
“You can’t admit it yet, but you do.” Caroline patted Penny’s arm. “And I’m fairly certain he feels the same way about you.”
“How do you know?” For all the bravado Penny exuded around her friends, she really hadn’t the faintest idea how to tell if a man truly cared for her. She’d judged wrongly in Wilmington and paid the price.
“Little things,” Caroline replied. “The way his hand lingered on your arm just a moment ago. That look he gets when he’s watching you but you don’t know, as if he’d run through fire for you. The way he smiles when you do look at him.”
Perhaps her friend was right. That didn’t take away the fact that she’d be poison to him if anyone here found out about her past, but maybe . . . Maybe it would stay in the past. After all, trains had been coming through Crest Stone for a while now, and Penny hadn’t seen a soul she’d known from back home. Although just such a thing had happened to Caroline last month. But unlike Caroline, Penny came from plain working folk, none of whom could afford to travel west in any sort of luxury. Even if they came to Crest Stone, they’d eat on the train instead of in the hotel’s dining room or lunch counter. Was it possible she’d worried over nothing? Penny’s heart tripped at the thought.
Caroline kept her entertai
ned with stories of her work in the general store with Mr. Drexel. Their customers consisted of hotel employees for now, and Mr. McFarland bought plenty of goods for the hotel itself, but they were hopeful their little railroad stop would continue to grow into a town. Penny updated Caroline on the recent letter she’d received from Emma. And, of course, they talked about their mutual friends in Crest Stone.
As the afternoon wore on, nothing much changed except the sun in the sky and the temperature slowly inching upward. Caroline told Penny about the various bolts of cloth she planned to order for the store and how she wanted to try her hand at dressmaking while Penny fought drowsiness. She’d just given in and shut her eyes when a rustle sounded from the trees nearby.
Chapter Seventeen
Ben was stifling a yawn when the women stopped their chatting and stared into the trees. Instantly, he sat up straighter in the saddle and rested his hand on one of his guns.
Nothing happened for a moment, and then, he saw it.
A man on horseback moved just beyond where the women sat, mostly obscured by trees and vegetation.
“Oh, it hurts!” Penny said loudly. “I do hope our cousin will return soon.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Ben had to swallow a laugh. As his mother would have said, the woman was meant for the stage.
“He said it would likely be sundown,” Mrs. Drexel replied.
That was the cue for the rider to make his entrance. Ben waited, ready to either bound toward the group on his horse or dismount and sneak forward on foot, depending upon the man’s demeanor.
A minute passed, and then another. And another. With each passing moment, Ben’s muscles grew less tense until he found himself wondering if the man had left altogether. Finally, a blur of red moved through the trees behind the ladies. Then it was gone.
The man had either been too afraid to approach the women, or he’d seen through their ruse. He couldn’t tell if it had been Hagan or not. But even if it wasn’t, the man might know where Hagan—and Adelaide—were.
