Cowboy of Mine

by Red L. Jameson

  Jake paid heed to Mr. Baker, trying to shelf his thoughts regarding Meredith. At least for a few seconds. He wasn’t fond of the orange velvet on the chairs, couches, and whatnot, wondering what Meredith might prefer. Yet, Jake didn’t begrudge Mr. Baker for the luxurious house and manner in which the man lived. It was obvious that at one point Mr. Baker had worked very hard, what with all the scars on his roughened hands. But for Jake, if he ever did strike it rich like this, he’d prefer clean things that would make Meredith smile.

  He missed her something fierce. What would she be doing at this particular moment? Teaching Dotty and Alex more about the United States’ Constitution? Mayhap she was baking? Perhaps she was lying in her bed, naked, missing him. After that thought, he had to clear his throat and tried to discipline his features to not convey how much he ached for her.

  Mr. Baker shook his mighty head. “Figures.”

  Jake had just finished telling him about Bruisner insulting Mrs. Casper and suspected of lurking after Meredith. He’d left out the fact that Laura was black and that Meredith had slapped the dickens out of Bruisner. Mr. Baker didn’t need to know that.

  Baker drank a little of the fine whisky in a sketched crystal glass. “The man always looked at Caitlyn and my wife in a way I never cared for.”

  Almost on cue, Jake heard the squeal of laughter from one of Cat’s charges. He could have guessed she would have been good to the children, but the way they’d raced to her when entering the abode, holding her around her skirt-clad legs, hugging her as tight as they might their own mother, made him realize just how connected she was to Mr. Baker’s children. Oh, the lass had such a hard decision ahead of her.

  “Well, Sheriff Cameron, I’ll fire the man as soon as I see him again.”

  Jake gave Mr. Baker a curt nod, glancing down to his own glass of whisky balanced on his knee. “I’d appreciate if ye notify me of his whereabouts too.”

  Mr. Baker nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. He has a warrant for his arrest, I suppose?”

  Since Tom Casper, a civilian, hired Jake, he had no authority here in Silver Bow County, but he nodded all the same.

  Narrowing his eyes, Mr. Baker gave him a serious stare. Jake could guess Mr. Baker knew the law well enough to distinguish that Jake didn’t have any authority here. But that wasn’t going to stop him from capturing Bruisner and asking him a few choice questions. Mr. Baker slowly smiled.

  “You know, I need a good lawman for the Company. Someone like you—reliable, tenacious,” Mr. Baker took a quick sip of the amber alcohol. “Someone who always gets his man.”

  “Thank ye, Mr. Baker, but—”

  “Just think about the offer for a spell, son. I haven’t even proposed money yet.”

  Jake shrugged. “I like my job in Plateau, sir.”

  Mr. Baker slowly nodded, then a screaming bairn about five years of age with fly-away blond hair tore into the room.

  “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Caitlyn bought me a toy from her vac-vaca-vaca—when she left.”

  Mr. Baker’s face cracked into a wide grin as the lad launched himself into his father’s lap, showing off a whittled wooden horse mid-gallop. It was a beautiful sculpture, but Jake knew it wasn’t an item bought for. Cat’s beau had made the horse for her charges.

  Cat came rushing into the room, her calico dress rustling slightly. “Timmy, Timothy, I told ye to wait for yer father to be finished with his business—”

  “I had to show daddy,” the boy argued. “I had to.”

  Cat narrowed her eyes at the lad, but his gaze bounced to Jake. Those giant blue eyes widened.

  “You’re the lawman that helped Miss O’Neil with the door.”

  Jake gave him a nod, trying to cover his smile at the lad’s audacity and free spirit.

  He wiggled free from his father’s grasp and came to stand mayhap a foot away from Jake. The child inspected his face, the way they do. And Jake worried that the boy would recoil in shock from his scars. But the lad stood still.

  “You’re rough looking.”

  Both Cat and Mr. Baker protested with some kind of comment, but Jake merely nodded.

  “I’m going to be a rough lawman when I grow up.”

  “Are ye now?” Jake finally cracked a smile.

  The child nodded, his fine hair waving after his head. “You bet.”

  Jake laughed softly.

  Cat finally captured her charge by scooping him up in her arms and tickling him. “A lawman, ye say? A lawman? Why ye’d have to obey the law first to become a lawman, and ye have trouble enough followin’ my orders.”

  The lad giggled and squealed in delight as Cat walked out of the room. It was heaven to hear a child laugh like that, and until Jake had met Meredith he’d never thought of having bairns of his own. It cracked his chest, that thought. Lord, he had to figure out a way to talk to his woman.

  “I would say I’m sorry for the outburst, Sheriff Cameron, but my son might do it again.”

  Jake laughed, glancing back at Mr. Baker.

  The round man ran a hand along his thick dark sideburns. “As soon as I hear news of Bruisner, I’ll let you know. Where are you staying?”

  Jake inhaled. “I hadn’t thought that far in advance, sir. I’ll probably find—”

  “The Grand Pintlar Hotel has many vacancies. I should know. I own it. Please stay as my guest.”

  “Oh, sir—”

  “Think about my offer, Cameron. I need a good lawman. And...” Mr. Baker glanced at the now closed door where the children were laughing loudly at something Cat had said. “And if you agreed, you could be close to Miss O’Neil.”

  Jake stiffened. He could have guessed Mr. Baker would think he had an interest in Cat. But on the train they’d commiserated their lovesick stories. She had answered an ad for Mr. Baker’s governess position and had traveled all the way from Boston for the job, only to be robbed by highwaymen in the last five miles close to Butte. However, she’d been rescued by a band of Blackfoot warriors. When Cat told the story, she lit up, talking about fate, wondering if there was such a thing to have met those warriors the way she did. Instantly, she had fallen for one of them. Jake had confessed his own sudden emotions regarding Meredith.

  But Cat...the nineteenth century was nothing like the seventeenth. Back then many colonies were dependent on the different Indians. There was a, albeit tense, synergy between colonists and the Native Americans. Now, there were military men writing broadbands in favor of extinction. He’d seen it with his own eyes.

  Jake hadn’t said anything about living two hundred years ago, but had confessed to living with a tribe in South Carolina, of finding a sanctuary amongst the Yamasee. But as much as Jake encouraged Cat, he knew times were different. Her choices were few: live with the love of her life, giving up the children she loved and all she knew. Or giving up love.

  Jake had tried to console her, patting her hand, telling her love would find a way. But he wasn’t sure if he believed it anymore. If ever. This was a senseless time, so full of hatred. And Meredith had told him to never see her again. There, in a room full of orange velvet and over-bright chandeliers and whisky that people called scotch, he finally acknowledged his truly broken heart.

  Mayhap a job working for a mining company wouldn’t be so bad? Mayhap Mr. Baker was actually a kind man? One who wouldn’t order him to kill innocent people.

  “Thank ye for the offer, Mr. Baker. I recon I will stay at yer hotel, but I’m goin’ to pay for my room.”

  Mr. Baker smiled widely. “I like a man who insists he pays his way. Very well then.” He stood, placing his empty glass on a nearby polished-until-it-shined-like-a-new-penny table, then extended his hand. “As soon as I hear word of Bruisner, I’ll contact you at the hotel. How long will you be staying?”

  Jake felt so tired suddenly. His bones ached from missing Meredith and the hopelessness that now accompanied thoughts of her.

  “Two days, mayhap more.” Jake shook Mr. Baker’s calloused hand.

 
; “Good. Good.” Mr. Baker grinned up at him. “Perhaps I can talk you into a job in that time?”

  Jake nodded. “Perhaps.”

  Chapter 16

  Cotton was in her mouth. A hell of a lot of cotton. And maybe mud too.

  Meredith almost wretched but forced herself not to, rolling to her side of the ever-moving bed she lay on. God, the bed truly rocked of it’s own accord. She wasn’t just experiencing a really bad hangover. It was a really bad hangover on a train.

  “Hey, honey, you okay?”

  Meredith refused to answer or open her eyes, but she knew it was Erva trying to soothe her. Cool fingers drifted along her forehead.

  “Your face isn’t swollen any longer.”

  Meredith might have tried to make a comment, but it came out a groan.

  “Is she—is she further hurt? Should we—check for a concussion?” That was obviously Coyote’s urgent voice, half growling, half whispering. Or trying to.

  “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor,” she mumbled through the cotton.

  “Need water, honey?” Erva’s voice was sickeningly sweet. Usually, Meredith would have reveled in it. But it felt too syrupy at the moment.

  She nodded, making her skull ache.

  “Open your eyes, Meredith. I’ve got water here and more ibuprofen.”

  “There is a God,” she croaked as she cracked an eyelid partially open.

  “Even when she’s not fully awake,” Coyote said, “she’s thinking about me.”

  Erva softly giggled. “You’re not full of yourself at all.”

  The, ah, god laughed. When Meredith managed to glance around, he was there hovering over her, smiling. His warm large hand swept some of her hair from her forehead.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I shouldn’t have drank last night.”

  “You drank last night?”

  “She had that vodka,” Erva whispered.

  “But that was barely enough to get drunk.”

  “Look at her, Coyote. She’s an elf. She’s tiny.”

  “I am right here,” Meredith interjected, not liking being talked about in her own presence. “And I’m not tiny anymore. I’ve gained a lot of weight.”

  “She was thinner before?”

  “She was a stick person when I first met her.”

  “Again, I am right here,” Meredith groaned.

  Coyote softly laughed, carefully caressing her hair. “Such a feisty elf.” He leaned down and kissed the side of her face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

  Meredith finally lifted on weak elbows, and immediately he swooped behind her, helping prop her up to sit with him taking most of her weight. She complained again as her butt met the much too firm bed. What a literal pain in the ass. She’d fallen so hard on it and moving it today might prove to be a chore.

  As Coyote eased her back to rest against his iron-like shoulder, Meredith said, “It was me who was the idiot, chasing after Bruisner. God, I was an idiot.”

  “You were defending me when you thought I was hurt.”

  She tilted her head to look at him. Warm, warm brown eyes met hers, and he smiled.

  “I—I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.” She looked away, noticing Erva hanging clothes here and there, packing others. “I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.”

  “Hey,” Coyote argued.

  Erva turned quickly. “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t do the self-incriminating thing. However, that being said, I wish you would have waited for me, talked to me about your plan.”

  Meredith nodded. She was so unused to having people she could depend on. Even at that moment, as part of her relished the affection and attention, another part of her felt wildly, well, weird. As if she wanted to bolt from it. But she took a deep breath instead.

  “How is your wound?” She turned again and looked up into Coyote’s warmth.

  “Good. Not even a bruise now.” He leaned away enough to show her his six-pack abs, fingering over a place that might have been where the knife had stabbed him. “I had to shift back to this form to heal. So I’m good as new now.”

  “That’s so...” She trailed off. The fact that she knew a man, er, god, who could shift into a coyote was...ineffable.

  “Creepy, right?” As much as Coyote jested, almost always wore a smile, Meredith saw that for once it was a tad forced. He might have been a god, but he had insecurities like—like a human.

  She reached up and kissed his cheek. “You’re perfect. And I never thanked you for defending me, my honor.”

  Erva returned to packing. “You guys never told me the full story of what happened.”

  Meredith began retelling the events, but when she’d need to drink more water, which was often, Coyote took over. When Meredith began to relay what had occurred on the train’s top, Coyote embraced her closer while Erva held her hand. Meredith couldn’t remember when she’d felt so...real, valid.

  “Asshole,” Coyote grunted when Meredith finished.

  Erva shook her head and returned to the luggage. “He probably jumped, they think.”

  “Are we close to Butte?” Meredith had to change the subject, too afraid to keep talking about Bruisner.

  “Yeah, should be arriving any minute.” Erva turned with a wide smile. “I’ve never traveled by train. But I kind of love it. For the last hour, I felt the train decelerate. How cool is that?”

  Meredith softly chuckled at her friend’s enthusiasm for trains.

  “And, um, well, you kind of ruined your skirts what with shooting from your pocket.” Erva bit her bottom lip.

  “Yeah, where is that gun?” Coyote asked.

  “I put it in my purse,” Erva said. “Why? You think I should put it somewhere else?”

  Coyote shrugged against Meredith. “Maybe I should hold it.”

  “You have to be a dog when we disembark from the train.”

  He growled. “I’m not a dog. I’m a coyote.”

  Erva held her hands up. “Sorry. Sorry.”

  “I see how you two don’t trust me with it anymore,” Meredith said.

  Erva giggled and blushed.

  Coyote wouldn’t look at her in the eyes, but kept smiling.

  “Oh!” Erva lifted a silk taffeta amethyst dress. “I thought you could wear this. It’s too small for me, so it should be perfect on you.”

  It was feminine and exotically expensive looking. The sheen on the fabric glinted of silver, pink, and light blue, and Meredith had never seen anything so beautiful. She shook her head, tears instantly pricking in her eyes.

  “I couldn’t—”

  “Well, sweetie, I think you kind of have to. You didn’t pack much. And you’re skirts are ruined.”

  “I can wear my skirts.”

  “With the bullet holes and blood on it? No. I—what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  Meredith bowed her head, trying to hide the tear that had somehow escaped. She wiped away the moisture with the back of her hand, but Coyote caught her face in his hand and forced her to look at him.

  “Meredith, what’s wrong?” His voice was the most soothing whisper. It felt like a warm blanket on her cold body.

  “It’s too pretty.” Meredith buried her face into his chest, trying to hide from her embarrassment.

  “What did she say?” Erva asked.

  Coyote gently held her face again, tipping it up to look at her. “Not nearly pretty enough for you.”

  Meredith felt more tears surface at the sentiment.

  “But it will do.” Coyote then rocked her, like a comforting father would. “Now, get dressed in the silly thing. I want to see my brave girl shine.”

  It was difficult to move around at first. Her body ached and pinged with pain when she stirred. But after a while, her joints loosened, her muscles relaxed, and Meredith gave in to being pampered by Erva, who pinned her hair into a stylish chignon, then helped with her corset.

  As she got dressed, and Coyote promised he’d turn his back, Meredith wondered more
about her feral upbringing, playing chase in Never-Never Land, and how she’d come to be in a train in 1887 in the beauty that was, er, is Montana. She’d been isolated for so long, and something about how she felt at that moment, like a dirty wild child playing dress up, resonated. But the fact that Erva was willing to forgive her, a god was willing to defend her, Jake...oh, he’d wanted to marry her, made her realize she could rely on people. Erm, she could rely on people and a god. She might always be a little savage, like Montana, but she’d do everything in her power to be a good friend and a good person.

  Apparently, Nik had instructed Erva about the Grande Pintlar Hotel in Butte as having the best reputation. As the train slowed to a stop, they made their plans to first unload their things there, then ask about Jake’s whereabouts. And Meredith vowed she’d be so good to Jake, no matter if he wanted her not.

  Chapter 17

  “Yep, I know of the name Bruisner,” Sheriff Richard Henderson said, while he sat behind his scared wooden desk at the local dingy Butte jail. He’d drawled the word “yep” making it have nearly seven syllables. The jail itself was giant compared to the one in Plateau with multiple chambers for the inmates, an area for the sheriff and his deputies, and was part of a larger building, probably the courthouse, for the county. Jake had to admit he might be a little jealous of the sheer size of...well, everything Sheriff Henderson was responsible for. Then again—as he heard a few drunks yelling at a prostitute who kept throwing her food at them—smaller might be better, especially more peaceful.

  Jake nodded as he sat opposite Henderson, feeling the man size him up, ascertain what kind of lawman Jake was. It was what Jake was doing to Henderson too. Henderson was one of those indiscernible men, as in he could be forty years old or nearer seventy. He could be hard as nails or soft as a kitten. Hiding behind a giant white mustache and blue eyes that never revealed much, Henderson would be the kind of man who could play poker. And win.

  He sat quiet for a long moment, then smiled slightly. The only way Jake knew he was smiling was because the skin around the sheriff’s blue eyes crinkled. “I know the name Bruisner. The Chicago fellow that the Mine hires for surveying other mines, right?”