He closed his eyes to soak up the softness lying next to him. It was all he could do not to put his arms around her and draw her close. Her scent taunted him, swirling about his head. He’d missed the scent of a real woman, one that wasn’t soaked in heavy perfume.
Beau snored from the blanket on the rug next to the bed, probably dreaming of some lady dog that had caught his eye.
“Do you have enough room, Sidalee?” Hank turned on his side to face her.
She squirmed like a squirrel digging for a pecan. “Yes.” She lay there a minute before she spoke softly. “Did you know I ordered this bed from the Montgomery Ward catalog?”
He wanted to ask what that was but he didn’t. “You don’t say.”
“This is the deluxe Queen Anne, model number 24, complete with a thick feather mattress. It cost a pretty penny but was money well spent. I think a good night’s rest is worth any price, don’t you?”
Memories of his hard bunk, which had consisted of a thin mattress on a cement slab, ran through his head. Rest on any given night was out of the question. If he hadn’t been keeping one eye open for trouble, it was his aching bones that kept him awake.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I apologize for rattling. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
“Not exactly. It’s just that I’ve never slept with a man before and I find it strange.”
Hank scowled up at the ceiling. He had to keep her from giving up the bed somehow, but a fine woman like Sidalee didn’t go around sleeping with men—not even half-frozen ones like him. “Just think of me as a big dog, and that should fix it.”
“Somehow, you don’t feel much like a dog.”
That was good news. One thing was sure: she definitely felt all woman—one he had no business lying next to.
Even if it was on a deluxe Queen Anne bed, model number 24.
Four
The smell of bacon frying tickled Hank’s nose. He opened his eyes and found no sign of his sleeping partner with those tempting curves. The bed felt empty without her slight weight beside him and the accidental bumps in the night. Once when she turned over, she’d laid a hand on his chest and kept it there as though it belonged.
The scent next to him overrode the bacon. Hank pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling Sidalee’s fragrance.
He’d known such peace and comfort for just a little while. He saw no sin in that.
The few timid rays of dawn sneaking through the window were a welcome sight. The clouds had lifted. Beau whined and jumped up beside him.
“Hey, boy. You’re looking chipper.” His hands were stiff as he reached to scratch the dog’s ears, but they didn’t ache like the pins and needles that shot through him when thawing. He wondered if his clothes were still drying in the kitchen. He needed to find his horse and get out of here—before leaving became impossible.
A knock sounded and he heard Sidalee talking to a man. No, two men—Hank heard a second, deeper voice but couldn’t make out the words.
A few seconds later, a dapper middle-aged man carrying a black bag strode into the room. “Good morning. Sidalee tells me you had a good night. I’m Doc Jenkins.” He stuck out his hand.
Hank shook it and propped himself against the headboard. “Folks call me Hank Destry. Miss Sidalee told me about you coming last night to tend to me. Sorry she dragged you out in that weather.”
“It’s what I’m here for. You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Destry. You could still be lying in the snow, and would be, if not for your dog.” Doc shook a thermometer and placed it under Hank’s tongue, then listened to his chest and checked his feet and legs. After what seemed an eternity, the doctor removed the thermometer. “Almost normal. You’ll have to bundle up when you go out for the next few days—and not in that coat you were wearing, either. Get one that will actually keep you warm.”
“It’s all I have.”
“I know. That’s why you’re getting a new one.” Doc put everything back into his bag.
“I don’t take well to charity,” Hank said tightly. The very thought made something shrivel up inside him. He was poor and destitute but he was no charity case.
A tall, lean cowboy spoke from the doorway. “Not going to be. Got a job for you, if you want it. You can work out the cost of a coat and warmer clothing.”
When Hank opened his mouth to protest, the man held up a hand. “I can’t have my employees freezing to death. My name’s Houston Legend. My family owns the Lone Star. I’d be obliged if you’d help us out. I’m short some men to the grippe.”
“What kind of work?” He might consider sticking around a few days until he figured out where to head next.
“Take your pick. I need more hands to go out and feed and water the cattle.” Houston raked his fingers through his brown hair. “This is a 480,000-acre spread. There are always jobs to go around. Say, is there any chance you know how to operate a telegraph? Our operator had to go back East until spring, and my father has some urgent matters to take care of.”
Odd that they would have a telegraph on a ranch. But then Sidalee had mentioned that the owners had formed a small town out here.
“Strange you should ask. I used to help my father run the telegraph where we lived. I’m going to be rusty though.” Hank never would’ve guessed he’d have need of that skill one day.
Houston grinned. “We don’t mind one bit. Pa needs to get some telegrams sent as soon as you’re able. We have some pressing business matters as well as personal things to attend to.” He narrowed his gaze. “I’m serious about getting new clothes and a coat. You refuse, we have no work for you. We take care of our people.”
“Understood.” Hank had never met anyone like Houston Legend and he liked his honesty. “Don’t you want to know anything about me? Where I come from?”
“Figure that’s your business. Everyone is running from something. This is a good place to get your feet under you. You can stay in Wheeler’s house for a while. I’ll take you there after you get through at the mercantile.” Houston moved aside to let Sidalee through.
She carried a stack of clothes that Hank recognized. “Out, both of you. Hank needs to get dressed and eat, if he’s to fill in for Jim Wheeler,” she said. Her tone was a tad bossy, but not in an unpleasant way. She wrapped the words in pure silk.
The grin was back on Houston’s face as he met Doc’s glance. “I guess we’ve been told, and in no uncertain terms.”
“That’s right,” Sidalee said with a pretty smile, her blue eyes twinkling. “My house, my rules. I have to get the mercantile opened so Hank can go shopping. And Houston?”
“Yep,” the man answered.
“I think Jonas has Hank’s saddlebags. Can you find them?”
“Sure,” Houston replied.
Hank watched the exchange and noticed how the men treated Sidalee with respect. She did have that effect on people. She was sassy and bold…and soft. She was the kind of woman who would make a man proud to have next to him. Sidalee would probably be there not only in the rosy times, but the dark ones as well, with her backbone stiff and that stubborn chin daring trouble to knock her down.
As the two men filed out, she turned to Hank. “By the time you’ve dressed, breakfast will be on the table. Do you like your eggs over easy?”
“I do.” He’d take them any way she fixed them. He wouldn’t put her out any more than he already had. “Sidalee, I owe you my life. Thanks.”
She put down the stack of clothes and laid a hand on the quilt covering him. “Just a friend helping a friend,” she said softly. “That’s what we do here. Everyone cares about each other, and I’m just glad I found you when I did. This Christmas is going to be extra special.”
Yes, it would be. He hadn’t celebrated Christmas in a long time, but this year he had a reason. He’d stay to run the tel
egraph through the holidays, then he’d move on.
He gave Sidalee a nod and hoped he could manage the emptiness that would again settle inside when he left. “I’m glad you found me too. The smells coming from the kitchen are making my stomach rumble. Be there in a minute.”
“Take your time. You’re likely to be a bit wobbly after your ordeal.” With a swish of her skirts, she disappeared through the door, closing it behind her.
Beau whined and glanced up at him.
“Yeah, I know. She has that effect on me, too, boy.” He reached for his pants. “We have a home for a little while. Don’t get too comfortable though. This is only temporary.”
The dog gave a pitiful huff and placed a paw over his eyes.
Hank buttoned his pants and reached for his shirt. “I mean it. We can’t stay.”
But his heart was saying something totally different. Hope had a way of sneaking past all of a man’s defenses.
* * *
Sitting across from the drifter, Sidalee reached for the plate of eggs. “You might as well finish these off, and the bacon too.”
She’d enjoyed watching him eat. No telling how long he’d gone without before she found him in that snowdrift. The early morning light streaming in the window curled around the edges of his dark hair and nuzzled his chiseled jaw. From the best she could tell, Hank had been through some pretty trying times that could’ve hardened a man and turned him into a piece of granite. Yet somehow it hadn’t appeared to. Last night he’d smiled and even joked a little.
After she’d given him his gun. She remembered the panic in his eyes until she laid the weapon in his hand, remembered him saying tightly that he always needed it.
Sidalee didn’t think he’d felt safe in a long time.
A fresh start was exactly what he needed. The Lone Star Ranch could give him that.
When his hands were idle, his fingers constantly moved as though they had a will of their own. Even now, the fingers on his left hand tapped on the table. It was a curious habit.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Hank glanced up and she fell into his gray eyes. “I reckon.”
“Why are your fingers always tapping? I doubt you’re even aware of it.”
“Sorry. An unconscious reflex.” A strange sadness crossed his face. “Must be from my days working the telegraph.”
“Maybe so. Habits are hard to break.” But he’d said he hadn’t manned a telegraph in a long while.
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten better food.” He put the other two eggs on his plate and reached for a biscuit. “These biscuits are so light, it’s a wonder they don’t float right off the plate.”
A smile curved her mouth. “My mother taught me how to make them. In fact, she showed me the way around a kitchen.” Her voice broke.
“Can I ask how long since you lost her?”
“Six years. Cholera took both my parents and three brothers.” Sidalee glanced at Beau. The dog finished eating from his bowl and lay down by the warm oven. “Fire is the only way to stop the spread of the disease, so I had to burn everything. Stoker Legend found me and brought me here. The big rancher gave me a chance just as his son Houston is doing for you.”
Hank studied her. “You must’ve been pretty young, I’m guessing.”
“Eighteen. I knew nothing about running a mercantile, but I learned under the previous owner. When he had to return back East, I took over the business.” She met his arresting eyes. “From what you said last night, I take it you don’t have anyone either.”
“Nope.” He turned back to his food.
Sidalee watched him struggle with emotion and wanted to ask more, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t talking about that subject. She poured him another cup of coffee instead. “Life is just hard. After you get finished, I’ll take you to the mercantile and you can pick out those clothes and a new coat. I’m sure Houston would like you to get started right away, but you might find his father, Stoker, instructing you on what he wants sent.”
“Like I said, I’m a little out of practice.” He laid down his fork and pushed back his plate.
“I’m sure you’ll pick it up again in no time and run the telegraph like an expert.” She collected the dishes and took them to the dishpan.
Hank lifted his cup to his lips. “We’ll see about that. Thank you for finding my saddlebags. I wondered where they got off to and prayed I hadn’t lost them.”
The saddlebags would probably have everything that remained of Hank Destry’s life. To lose them would leave him with nothing.
“I know how important a man’s belongings are.” Especially when they were so meager. She met his gray gaze and the gratitude she saw made the backs of her eyes sting.
“I’ll pay you back—for everything.”
“For goodness sake, Hank, I need nothing in return. It’s been pounded into our brains since birth the importance of giving, but we also need to know how to receive.” She pushed back her hair. “We shouldn’t feel beholden for everything people do for us.”
“Yeah, well, I do.” Hank stood and instantly the dog was at his side with his tail wagging nearly off. “Point me to the barn. I’ll go see about my horse. Boots and Beau are all I’ve got.”
“You don’t have a proper coat yet.” She yanked her hands from the soapy water and dried them on her apron, then reached behind to untie it. “These dishes can wait. Let’s go to the mercantile so you can get started.”
He could get on that horse and ride out. If he did, she’d feel a great loss for some odd reason. What if she never saw him again? What if that one night was all she’d ever know about the sound of a man’s soft snores and the hard feel of his body? What if she lost the man who’d come into her life and brought her hope?
For a second his gaze tangled with hers. He finally threw up his hands. “Whatever makes you happy, Sidalee.”
He helped her into her coat, and the brush of his hands against hers brought a yearning she’d never felt.
Though the snow had stopped and the sun shone bright, the blustery wind bore a hint of ice in it. Beau ran across the white ground, jumping into a mound, then emerging with a snow-covered nose. Shivering, Sidalee pulled her coat tight around her and glanced at her tall escort. Hank had to be freezing in that threadbare coat. Except for his breath fogging, he gave no indication of being cold as he helped her across a snowdrift. She had a feeling he’d long grown accustomed to meager comforts.
That feeling persisted a few minutes later as he helped her light the big potbellied stove, then browsed the clothing in the store. The dog lay next to the fire’s warmth, his dark eyes never leaving his master. Hank compared the prices of everything and appeared to weigh the cost over quality.
Sidalee put her hands on her hips. “Hank Destry, don’t you dare pick out that thin shirt and thin jacket that couldn’t keep a flea warm. I have to warn you—Houston Legend will march you right back over here, so you better do it right the first time.”
Hank turned, and his voice had a slight edge. “I buy what I can afford.”
It seemed prudent to get off her bossy high horse and button her lip. In the end, though, he focused on inexpensive but sensible clothes, and she approved of everything he selected. The clothes were well-needed, and she was glad to help him out. Her thoughts went to Miss Mamie, which led Sidalee to grab a soft wool scarf to take to the woman that afternoon.
She watched a smile steal across Hank’s face as he slipped on the new coat and ran his hands across the thick wool. He glanced up and caught her staring, immediately dropping his hands to his sides, his features settling again into grim lines. Her heart broke for him and all that those small things revealed. He’d suffered something horrible. Something that stole his laughter and sealed his heart shut.
“I think I’m set. Can I chop some firewood to repay you?” He slowly moved toward h
er, his large presence filling the store.
“Find joy in getting for a change. There’s nothing wrong with accepting help.” She laid a hand on his arm. She didn’t need anything—except, some small part of her whispered, to be held and cherished.
Before she withered and died on the vine, a lonely spinster whose life had passed her by.
Hank came still closer until only a foot separated them. Her heart fluttered as she stared up into his eyes. The gray had darkened to blue. “I confess, I find happiness in being with you.” He inched closer until his scent wound around her like a piece of leather. “Would you mind if I kiss you?” he suddenly asked. “Just once. It’s been a long time since I held any softness.”
“I’d like that.” Sidalee’s voice came out breathless and odd, almost in a whisper.
He placed a large hand on her back. Sidalee lowered her eyes as his lips gently settled on hers. A longing swept through her that she’d never felt before, followed by a hunger that consumed her every thought.
The room seemed too hot, her coat too stifling, her knees too weak.
She leaned into him, clutching him to keep from falling.
Just as her breath ran out, he broke the kiss and stepped back. Before Sidalee could utter a word, Hank turned and went out the door with his packages under an arm.
Her heart pounding, she ran to the window and quickly wiped off the fog with an elbow.
The man who’d slept beside her through the night strode toward the huge barn with his dog scampering around his feet. With the collar of the wool coat pulled around his neck, Hank moved as effortlessly as water, his stride fluid and easy, the gun hanging from the holster.
He stopped to pick up a handful of snow, packed it together, then threw it as though a ball for Beau to fetch. Sidalee laughed. She touched her lips that still tingled.
It looked like Hank Destry had some hope in his heart after all.
Five
Houston Legend caught up with Hank as he came from the barn after seeing to his horse. Thankfully, Boots appeared none the worse for the blizzard.
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