“No.” Why couldn’t she save her breath for walking?
“Then why did you have to follow us? Why couldn’t you have just let us go?” The question was a plea but there was curiosity, also, as if she really wanted to know what he had been thinking when he jumped on that train.
“Emily,” he said softly. “I couldn’t let you go, not like that. This man will hurt you, I feel it. Stopping you was more important to me than stopping him.”
She swung toward him. “I knew it! This stupid charge in Topeka was just an excuse. Maybe it was dreamed up entirely by my family. And you’re just as bad as they are. Why can’t anyone let me live my own life?”
She whirled away. He hung back, watching her stomp across the rough ground. The pace she was setting wasn’t going to do her heel any good. He knew, because his own boots weren’t designed for walking any more than hers were. When he noticed her starting to favor her left foot, he caught up with her.
“Let’s take a little rest,” he suggested.
“I wish I had gotten a drink at that stream we crossed,” she said, letting him help her to the ground. “How far do you think we’ve come?”
“A mile or so.”
She groaned and threw herself backward on the ground. “Maybe we should walk closer to the road and not be so picky about our traveling companions.”
The road had been vacant since the one wagon had passed and it wasn’t so distant that they couldn’t make themselves known to other travelers if something safe presented itself. But if they walked near the road there would be no hiding from unsavory characters that might be too interested in Emily. No, Jake wanted to keep them walking just where they were.
However, he had seen signs of a farmstead off to the north. It was well off the beeline he wanted to make to Americus, but if Emily was hurting, it would be better to head for help. “The farmer will have water,” he said.
“Farmer?” Emily sat up, looking around, then stood to follow his finger toward a curl of smoke. “That’s as far as the next creek,” she protested.
“True, but he might be willing to give us a ride into town.”
Jake judged the farm to be about a mile away, but travel across the prairie and cultivated fields was slower going than the packed earth next to the track. They said little during the half-hour journey.
As they neared the farm, Jake began to have some misgivings. The place was in terrible shape. The roof sagged and the door set cockeyed on its hinges. Tools, broken and otherwise, littered the weed-choked yard.
Emily held back, probably feeling the same uncertainty. “Kinda lacks a woman’s touch, don’t you think?”
Jake grinned. “At least we can get some water,” he said, urging her forward. “Hello!”
A man in tattered coat and pants came around the side of the building with a load of firewood. “Whatcha want?” he asked, carrying the load through the open door.
Jake cast Emily a quizzical look. “I’m not following him in,” she whispered.
“Could we have a drink?” he called, stepping closer to the house, equally unwilling to cross the threshold.
“Only got enough to see me through the winter,” came the reply.
Jake frowned at Emily, who shrugged in response. Then it hit him. “Water,” he corrected.
“Well, that I got.” He came back out of the house and pointed to a bucket by the door. “Help yourselves.”
Jake watched Emily approach the bucket cautiously. “Do you have a well?” she asked.
“Nope. Bring it up from the creek fresh daily,” the man said proudly.
Emily cupped her hand into the water and tossed a few floating specks off the top then drank a handful of the water.
“Good, ain’t it?” inquired the farmer.
“Delightful.” She turned her back on the farmer and rolled her eyes at Jake.
Jake suppressed a smile. “We’re much obliged,” he said, stepping forward for his turn at the water. “We were wondering if we could get a ride into Americus.”
As he drank, the man answered, “Ain’t no stage or nothin’ through here. Too close to the railroad.”
“No. I mean, would you be able to give us a ride?”
“Got nothin’ to ride,” he said. “Just my mule.”
Jake looked at Emily. She had fished her gloves out of her bag and was slipping into them. His own hand felt frozen from the water.
“Can’t give you the mule,” the man said before Jake could respond. “Gotta farm with it.”
“Could we borrow it? The lady is worn out from walking.” He saw Emily droop a little on cue.
“Ya got yourselves kicked off the train, didn’t ya?”
“Not exactly,” Jake said. “I’m following a suspect who jumped the train.” He unbuttoned his coat to show his badge, hoping it would help get the mule for Emily.
The man laughed. “She a lawman, too? Naw, I reckon ya was kicked off the train. Gettin’ a little too friendly, was ya?”
Jake shook his head. “No, it was nothing like that. I’m following the suspect and she’s…well…she’s following me.”
“Ya can leave her here if’n ya want.”
The man was trying to get his goat He chose to ignore him but stole a glance at Emily to see her reaction. She looked more irritated than indignant. Good. A show of temper wouldn’t help them get the mule. “Sir, could I rent the mule? I’d leave it in Americus for you.”
“Now how would I get into Americus to get my mule? I’d have to walk. Wouldn’t be no easier for me than for you.”
“But the lady—”
“Naw. Walkin’ll teach ya to use better manners on the train. Welcome to the water, though.” With that he turned his back and entered the house, dragging the door closed behind him.
Emily stomped one foot on the ground and winced. “I say we steal his mule.”
Jake took her arm and led her toward the road. “Oh, you and Berkeley make a fine pair.”
She jerked her arm out of his hand. “That’s not fair, Jake. I was joking.”
Jake had thought he was joking, too, but on reflection he decided maybe he wasn’t. She didn’t want to admit Berkeley was a criminal, and he wanted to impress on her that he was.
But perhaps he should give it up. She wasn’t going to admit she was wrong, at least not to him. And remaining her friend might be more important in the long run. That way, if she wouldn’t listen to reason, at least, she would let him pick up the pieces.
Chapter Seven
Emily was so bone weary when they finally crossed a short bridge and saw Americus, she was practically leaning on Jake. Placing one foot in front of the other seemed to take all her concentration. The sight of the pretty little homes didn’t even perk her up. Of course, any house would seem pretty after the shack where they had stopped for water.
She and Jake had barely spoken since that stop. It was almost as if they were both afraid that whatever they said would make the other angry. She wasn’t sure what had given her that impression; she was too tired to think.
The sight of their destination seemed to renew Jake’s energy, and, as he turned them onto the wide main street, he increased his pace. Emily, hoping to feel the same renewal, made an effort to look around her. Though the town had quite a collection of stores, from drugs to groceries, she felt no lifting of her spirit or her feet.
She wished Jake would slow down. “M. W. Gibson,” she read aloud, hoping to distract him. “Burial Cases and Sewing Machines.”
The sign struck her as funny. She bit back a giggle. “Why don’t they call it Coffins and Clothiers?”
She had to stop and give in to the laughter. She knew it sounded hysterical, but that just added to the absurdity. “No. I got it,” she gasped. “Death and Dressmaking.”
She heard Jake chuckle. She wanted him to laugh. “Stiffs and Stitches?” she suggested.
He bent and brought one arm behind her knees. The laughter vanished in a gasp as she found herself thrust against his hard chest He wal
ked on down the street with her in his arms.
“Oh,” she murmured against his neck. “This is a wonderful idea. I wish we had thought of it miles ago.”
He didn’t respond, and she bent to rest her head on his shoulder, when something caught her eye. “Stop!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head toward her. His lips were an inch from hers. For an instant she forgot what had caught her attention. She had an overwhelming desire to taste those lips. She licked her own as she stared at his.
“Emily?” A whisper of breath touched her face and she shivered. “Emily?”
It was a plea this time and brought her back to her senses. “That,” she said, pointing over his shoulder. “Is that a cow?”
Jake turned. “Yes, that’s a cow.”
A cow stood placidly grazing in the vacant lot beside them. Jake stood for a moment watching it then started on down the street. “Good,” Emily said, resting her head on his shoulder. “For a moment I thought I had gone crazy.”
“For a moment, I thought so, too,” he murmured.
She decided not to think about what he meant and closed her eyes. She didn’t open them until she felt Jake walk up a pair of steps. He set her on her feet in front of a whitewashed door. “Dutton House,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Dutton House,” she quipped.
He opened the door, and she preceded him inside, collapsing into the first chair she saw. She listened to the deep resonance of Jake’s voice as he arranged for their rooms and a warm bath. In a moment he turned toward her. “Upstairs,” he said gently.
She spent a second wishing he would carry her then came to her feet He took her arm and helped her up the narrow, dimly lit stairs. He opened a door halfway down the hall and set her. bag inside. “They’ll bring up a bath in a few minutes and a tray a little later.”
Emily grabbed his arm. “You’re not going after Anson tonight, are you? You won’t leave me here?”
He seemed to take forever to answer. She was determined to go with him, but she knew at this moment, if he wanted to leave, she was too exhausted to follow.
“No,” he said finally. “I’m going to see if anyone remembers seeing him get off the train this afternoon. Until I find out which direction he went, I have no trail to follow.”
“But if you find out, you won’t leave tonight?”
“Emily.”
“Please.” Perhaps if she knew what he was thinking it would be easier to convince him to wait, to take her with him. She searched his face. His green eyes seemed almost black in the dim light of the hall, but there was a softness about them when he looked at her. She felt her pulse quicken and a quiver spiral though her belly. Then she was lost in his gaze, forgetting everything but his strong, warm body so close to hers and his eyes that seemed to probe her soul.
And his lips. She started to raise her hand, wanting to touch them, when he spoke. “I’ll see what I can learn and come back. I won’t leave until I’ve talked to you.”
He turned then, opening a door across the hall and placing his saddlebags just inside. He gave her a slight nod as he passed her again on his way to the stairs.
Emily stared after him. What had just happened? Why had her body responded to his? Fatigue must have clouded her brain, she decided, turning into her room.
The room was small and dull with whitewashed walls and a bare floor. There was very little furniture and no wardrobe, merely a few hooks on the wall. But the bed looked inviting.
She had just removed her shoes and stockings when she heard a knock at the door. At her response, a woman carrying a huge steaming kettle and a stack of towels came in followed by a boy with a brass tub and two girls with more kettles. While the girls filled the tub, the boy built a fire in the fireplace.
“I’m Mrs. Dutton. When would you like dinner sent up?”
Emily’s stomach growled as if in answer. “As soon as it’s convenient,” she said, too tired to be embarrassed.
“Very good, miss.” Mrs. Dutton herded her helpers out of the room and closed the door behind her.
The tub was steaming. Emily moaned in anticipation. She quickly shed her clothes, frustrated by the extra layers, and eased into the water. She let out a loud sigh of relief as the heat soaked into sore muscles.
She washed quickly, lathering her hair twice, then sank into the water. The tub was cramped, but with some trial and error, she found a comfortable position and laid her head back against the rim. She had just begun to relax when a knock on the door brought a groan of protest to her lips. “Who is it?” she called.
“I have your dinner tray, ma’am,” came the muffled reply.
Emily frowned, unwilling to end her bath so soon. “Just leave it in the hall,” she called. “I’ll get it in a minute.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ah, dinner,” she murmured, relaxing again. “I am starving. I’ll get it in a minute.”
Jake headed back toward the hotel. First he had sent a telegram to his boss, asking him to let Christian know his sister was safe. Then he had visited a doctor and gotten an ointment for Emily’s heel. After that, he had spent nearly half an hour chasing down the man who had been on duty at the train depot that afternoon, but the information had been worth the work.
The man remembered Berkeley well. The fugitive had asked about the next train north and had become furious when he learned he would have to wait two days since the trains didn’t run on Sunday. Berkeley, when he had calmed down asked about buying a horse. The station attendant had recommended a nearby livery, and Jake looked up the owner.
Yes, Berkeley had bought a horse and had ridden west out of town. But Berkeley had bought the man’s last horse. He suggested Jake try the livery that was connected with Dutton House.
As Jake neared the hotel, he found his thoughts more on Emily than on the horse he needed to buy and the fugitive he needed to follow. He shouldn’t have lifted her into his arms, but he had ached for her with every step until he could no longer resist When he had turned his head and watched that pink tongue trace across her soft lips it had almost been his undoing.
The urge to kiss her had stayed with him. He had nearly given in again in the hotel. That was another in a long list of reasons why he had to send her home. He was likely to give in to the urge eventually, and she wouldn’t welcome it.
Maybe he could use that in his favor. If she refused to go home, he could try kissing her. It might make her furious enough to want to get away from him. He found himself grinning when he entered the livery at Dutton House. He made arrangements for a horse and saddle and hurried toward Emily’s room.
A tray sat outside her door, and he felt a prickle of alarm when he realized it hadn’t been touched. He tapped lightly on the door, needing to know if she was all right but not wanting to wake her if she had gone to bed. The room was quiet.
“Emily?” he asked softly, opening the door to peek inside.
He froze halfway through the door. She had fallen asleep all right, but not in her bed. Her head, resting on the rim of the tub, was turned away from him. Her hair, glistening in the firelight, hung to the floor. One arm was thrown across her chest as if to shield her breasts. It failed miserably. The rosy tips, puckered from the chill in the room, taunted him.
He swallowed, fighting the desire that burned through his body. He couldn’t leave her like this: she would catch a chill. He couldn’t go wake her: she would die of embarrassment. He took one last look at the tempting mounds he would never taste and slipped back out of the room.
He took a deep breath, struggling to bring his lust under control. He brought one foot down heavily on the floor. “Emily!” he called as he pounded on the door.
He heard a gasp and a splash. “Just a minute.”
“Are you all right?” he called, picturing her stepping out of the tub, streams of glistening water cascading down the curves of her body.
“Yes. I just finished my bath. Wait out there.”
He
imagined her rubbing the towel over her pale skin, turning it rosy in the firelight. Rosy like the tips of her smooth, soft breasts.
He cursed his foolish imagination. His body was all too willing to respond. He bent and lifted the tray, making sure his coat hid all evidence of his lascivious thoughts.
In a moment she opened the door. She had slipped on a modest nightgown and thrown her cloak around her shoulders. “Cold?” he asked.
“I don’t have a robe,” she answered.
He cursed himself for asking. He didn’t need her to say anything that further called her state of dress to his attention. He set the tray on a little table beside the bed.
“I think there’s enough here for two,” Emily said, taking a seat on the bed. “Pull up a chair and help me eat it. You can tell me what you learned.” She threw the cloak off behind her to better free her arms and began building a sandwich out of cold beef and bread.
The only thing Jake could remember learning was the exact color of her nipples. He shook himself and brought a chair to the bedside. He eyed the glass of water, wanting to splash it in his face.
“Did anyone remember seeing Anson?” she asked, before bringing her sandwich to her mouth.
Jake tore his eyes away from her lips. Berkeley. The bastard would be on her mind. “Yes,” he said, keeping the bitterness out of his voice. “He bought a horse and headed west.”
“So that’s what we do,” she mumbled as she chewed.
“That’s what I do.” He helped himself to a chunk of meat and kept his eyes off her face.
“I want to go with you, Jake.”
“I know you do,” he said gently. “It could be hard traveling. I don’t know where he’s headed or how long it’ll take me to catch up with him. You should go back.”
She took another bite and shook her head. She acted as if she knew he would give in. It made him more determined.
“The train won’t run tomorrow,” he said, leaning toward her. “You can stay here, sleep, read, walk around and count the dairy cows—”
“Dairy cows?” She laughed. “You mean there are more?”
“They’re all over town,” he answered. “There’s a cheese factory, so everybody owns a cow or two and sells them the extra milk.”
Flint Hills Bride Page 10
