Stetsons, Spring and Wedding Rings

by Jillian Hart

  So, of course, he couldn’t sleep knowing she lay in bed in the room next to his. The balcony above the alley behind the hotel proved the perfect spot to take refuge. No one used it much; most everyone preferred sitting on the front balcony that overlooked Main Street.

  Travis gazed up and down the alley, restless but unwilling to leave the hotel. He had to stay on guard. He’d seen Smith approach Brynn twice now, once outside the express office and again today at church. He was up to something. Travis knew it.

  His gut knotted thinking what Smith might do to Brynn. If what he suspected was true and Smith had hidden the jewelry in Brynn’s belongings, the man would stop at nothing to get it back. Nothing.

  With a heavy sigh, Travis made up his mind. He’d have to talk to Brynn, try to get her to tell him the truth. Maybe she trusted him enough now, but even if she didn’t, he had to warn her about Smith.

  Telling her about his suspicions might tip his hand, if she really was Smith’s accomplice, but Travis knew she wasn’t. He’d told her she must face the circuit judge to clear her name when, all along, he’d wanted to keep her in town, make sure she was safe.

  Yes, he’d wanted to keep her safe. At least, that’s the way it had started out. But now…

  Rafe and Olivia floated through Travis’s mind. They were happy. Any fool could see it. They both had family close by, they’d live in Harmony for a long time. They understood each other, wanted the same things. They’d have a good marriage.

  Being married under those circumstances wouldn’t be so bad, Travis thought. Having a wife, a home to return to at the end of each day could be the best thing a man might have.

  But only if the wife wanted to be there. And only if the husband wanted to come home to the same place night after night.

  Travis shook off the thoughts. He had more important things to deal with right now.

  He had to talk to Brynn, tell her his suspicions about Smith, warn her that she was in danger. Urgency overwhelmed him. He had to tell her now, tonight. Waiting until tomorrow seemed intolerable, despite the late hours and the eyebrows it would raise if he were seen.

  Travis headed back into the hotel.

  Chapter Nine

  A knock sounded on Brynn’s door, jarring her from her thoughts. She glanced at the clock on the bureau. Late. Too late for callers. But would that stop the ladies of Harmony if they had a question about something in her aunt’s book?

  Today at the church fund-raiser, while children played games and men pitched horseshoes, she’d done a reading from Planning Perfection. Mrs. Kimball had asked her to do it. Dozens of ladies had gathered around listening intently to Aunt Sadie’s advice on the perfect way to decorate a parlor. Questions and comments had followed, one after another. As Aunt Sadie had predicted, the thirst for knowledge among the women of the West was great.

  Brynn abandoned her journal entry and rose from the little writing desk in the corner. She pulled on her wrapper. She’d readied herself for bed and was hardly presentable for company.

  But if some young woman had a burning question that simply could not wait until tomorrow, she’d just have to put up with Brynn in her nightgown with her hair down and her feet bare.

  Silently, so as not to disturb any of the other hotel guests, Brynn opened her door a crack and peeked out. Through the tiny slice between the door and its frame, she spotted Travis.

  Her heart thumped into her throat and hung there.

  Before she could react, he pushed his way inside and closed the door. Brynn fell back a step, too stunned to speak.

  Not that he gave her a chance, anyway.

  “What are you doing opening your door at this time of night?” he demanded. “Anybody could have been waiting in the hallway.”

  He seemed to fill the entire room. In the dim light he looked taller, his shoulders wider. His presence seemed to rob the room of air.

  Travis appeared to have some trouble breathing himself. His gaze dropped to her bare feet, rose over her hips and her waist where she’d cinched her wrapper, then lingered on her bosom for a second, then took in her hair loose about her shoulders before finally landing on her face.

  Heat ignited within Brynn. Her only clear thought was that she should have been outraged at his boldness, but she wasn’t.

  Finally she found her voice.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, and managed to sound a little indignant.

  “You might be in danger,” Travis told her.

  “Of what? Someone barging into my room in the middle of the night?” she demanded. “You have to go. I can’t have my reputation compromised like this. I can’t have people talking about me again.”

  “Nobody saw me,” Travis said. He touched her shoulder, and somehow it calmed her. “I wouldn’t put you in a bad position. I swear. I was careful. Nobody saw me.”

  She believed him. Something in his tone, his expression, assured her she needn’t worry.

  Travis pulled his hand from her shoulder and drew himself up.

  “I saw you talking to Hiram Smith today at church, and the other morning outside the express office. I’m afraid he means you harm.”

  “Mr. Smith is a gentleman,” Brynn insisted.

  “I believe he’s a jewel thief.”

  “Oh, those jewels again,” she complained.

  Brynn whipped around and stalked to the other side of the room, more to hide her guilty reaction to the mention of the word jewels than because she was tired of hearing about them and Travis’s suspicions.

  His footsteps thudded behind her and she sensed his presence at her back.

  “I need to ask you again if you know anything about stolen jewelry,” he said quietly.

  For an instant she was tempted to tell him the truth. Then she could take him down to the kitchen, dig through the crock of cornmeal, hand the things over and be done with them. How glad she’d be to have the whole incident off her back.

  But would doing so prove her innocence, or make him more angry? Was he using some supposed concern for her safety as a ploy, hoping she would confess? And if she did, would he only be angrier at her for not telling him the truth in the first place?

  As before, Brynn felt she didn’t dare risk it. She turned to face him.

  “I did not steal jewelry from those people in Houston—or anyone else,” she said, which came out sounding sincere because she was, in fact, innocent. “And I intend to plead my case to the circuit judge to prove it. You know that. Why are you here?”

  “Because I believe Hiram Smith is the thief. I believe he hid the jewelry in your baggage,” Travis said. “And if I’m right, I’m afraid he might hurt you to get it back.”

  Brynn gasped. It never occurred to her that Hiram Smith could be a criminal of any sort, or that he’d planted the jewelry in her luggage. He was a perfect gentleman, the one person she’d encountered on her trip to Harmony who she’d reckoned was the least likely to do such a thing. And she’d never once considered that the person who’d planted the jewelry might put her in danger.

  Now more than ever she wished she could tell Travis. Those wide shoulders of his had never looked sturdier. What a welcome relief it would be to explain what had happened, let him handle it, take the burden—and the threat—onto himself.

  But she didn’t dare. She’d gone too far proclaiming her innocence to back up now.

  “If you really think I could be in jeopardy, why are you keeping me here?” she asked. “Why not let me leave?”

  “I can protect you here.”

  “You can use me as bait, more likely,” Brynn realized.

  To her surprise he didn’t deny her words. He didn’t become angry at her accusation. Instead he looked hurt.

  Travis glanced away. “I supposed I deserved that,” he said quietly. Then he lifted his gaze and Brynn saw an intensity burning in his eyes. “Stay away from Smith. He’s dangerous.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. After all, Hiram had been kind and considerate. Why wou
ld she think the worst of him?

  “I’m asking you to trust me,” Travis said. “Please. I don’t want you to get hurt, Brynn.”

  They gazed at each other, a long lingering look. Finally Travis left the room and slipped silently into the hallway.

  “Fabulous!” Mrs. Kimball declared.

  Brynn looked up from scrubbing the sideboard to find the mayor’s wife standing in the kitchen doorway. Beyond her in the meeting room, the half-dozen or so volunteers still on the job were busy cleaning, scrubbing and making repairs.

  They’d been at it all day. Brynn had borrowed a simple dress from Olivia, rolled up her sleeves, tied a scarf around her hair and set to work early this morning. Townsfolk had come and gone all day doing what they could before returning to family and jobs. Some had worked, others had brought food, others suggestions and ideas. Everyone had worked hard.

  Including Travis. He’d been there all day working harder than anyone.

  “Looks as if we’ll be ready for paint tomorrow,” Mrs. Kimball predicted as she scanned the kitchen.

  Travis paused in the repairs he was making to the back door and gestured with the hammer in his hand.

  “Just a few more things and we’ll be finished,” he agreed.

  “We’ll start painting at first light.”

  Mrs. Kimball nodded her approval. “As soon as you’re finished here tonight, come to my place. I’m making supper for all the volunteers.”

  “That sounds heavenly,” Brynn said and truly meant it. She was tired, bone weary, and a good meal with friends seemed the perfect way to end the day.

  “Come as you are,” Mrs. Kimball insisted. She smiled kindly.

  “I doubt even your aunt would frown on us not looking perfect at supper, under the circumstances.”

  Brynn gave her a grateful smile in return. “I agree completely.”

  Mrs. Kimball departed and Brynn began scrubbing the sideboard once again. Travis was next to her, nailing wooden strips around the door to trim it properly. The work was hard and, really, Brynn had seldom done this kind of scrubbing and cleaning. Thanks to her father’s successful business, their family had always employed a maid.

  But, oddly enough, Brynn found that she didn’t mind any of the chores she’d performed today. It felt good to have a purpose, to work toward a goal, to see the results of her efforts.

  Her home back in Richmond floated through her mind.

  She’d never do anything like this if she still lived there. What would she be doing at this very moment, she wondered, if she hadn’t come west?

  The answer came to her in a flash and she cringed.

  “Are you sick?” Travis asked.

  She realized that he’d been watching and saw her shudder.

  “Just thinking about home,” she told him.

  He turned to her, the hammer dangling from his hand.

  “You must be anxious to get your aunt’s tour wrapped up and get back to Richmond,” he said.

  Brynn cringed again. If she hadn’t been so tired she may have been able to keep up pretenses, but the hard day’s work had made her too weary.

  “I’m not at all anxious to get back home,” she told him, dipping the scrub brush into the water bucket.

  “Don’t you miss your family?”

  “Some,” she allowed. “But, well, let’s just say that the longer I stay away, the better.”

  His brows pulled together and the tiniest grin touched his lips.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she blurted out.

  “I know a guilty face when I see one. You did something. You might as well tell me because I’m imagining all sorts of things.”

  She drew herself up. “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll guess.” Travis thought for a second. “Let me see. You got caught in a, shall we say, romantic moment with the preacher.”

  “No!”

  “Your best friend’s husband?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Okay, then it must have been—”

  “I didn’t get caught with anyone!” she exclaimed. “I called the grande dame of Richmond society a name.”

  Travis reeled back. By the stunned expression on his face, she could see that even he knew the problems that created.

  “What did you call her?” he asked.

  Brynn’s anger grew, remembering. “I told her she had the taste level of a sow and, until she learned how to decorate her own home, she should keep her pig-snout nose out of everyone else’s business.”

  “Damn…”

  “She was insufferable!” Brynn declared, flinging the soapy scrub brush out and gesturing eastward. “A young woman—a perfectly delightful woman—moved to Richmond as a new wife and invited everyone in our circle over for tea. And that horrible know-it-all woman had the gall— the gall— to insult her parlor furnishings in her own home!”

  “Well, hell,” Travis said. “I think she ought to be shot.”

  “I blasted her, all right,” Brynn said, “with words.”

  “I guess that caused a pretty big stink,” he said.

  Brynn rolled her eyes. “The story was told and retold.Absolutely everyone heard it and repeated it. And, of course, I became the villain for causing a scene. Young women simply don’t do things like that. It’s a mark of poor manners and ill breeding. My father…”

  Suddenly exhausted, Brynn dropped the scrub brush into the bucket of water. For weeks now she’d managed to push the details of everything that had happened into the far recesses of her mind. Now they all came back.

  “My father expected me to marry well, to improve our family’s social position.” Brynn sighed heavily. “It was the only thing I could do to help, to please him. And I failed completely—

  after he’d selected the perfect husband for me.”

  “Husband?”

  Brynn nodded. “His family owned a number of businesses in Richmond. They were very well thought of, well respected. The connection would have elevated Papa’s position in the community and vastly improved his own business.”

  “Your pa was mad at you?” Travis asked.

  “Luckily, Aunt Sadie took me on her tour with her. Papa hoped things would settle down while I was away, but no one will forget what happened,” Brynn said. “I’ll be expected to apologize for the things I said, which I suppose I should.”

  “Even if what you said was true?”

  Brynn nodded.

  “Can’t say I’d be too happy about going home, either, under those conditions,” Travis told her.

  The day had finally taken its toll on Brynn. The work, the long hours and, finally, sharing her disgrace in Richmond had worn her down.

  She wiped her hands on her apron. “I think we’ve done enough for today.”

  Travis pounded the final nail into place and put his hammer in the toolbox.

  “I hope Mrs. Kimball’s got a big meal laid out,” he said,

  “because I’m hungry.”

  They washed up at the sink, then walked through the meeting room and saw that the few remaining volunteers were also finishing up their work. Everyone left together.

  Brynn locked the door and turned to find Travis standing close, watching her. His expression held a mix of pride and intensity.

  “I say, good for you for telling that old heifer what you thought,” Travis said. “If I’d been there, I’d have applauded.”

  His words touched her heart as no one else’s had. Absolutely no one in Richmond had defended her. They’d all been shocked by her behavior. Some had quit socializing with her. Her family had been angry and disappointed.

  Tears seeped into her eyes as she gazed up at Travis.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He touched his thumb to her tears, wiping them away, then splayed his fingers over her cheek. Brynn leaned into his palm, soaking up this warmth, his strength. For once, thinking about what happened back home didn’t seem so bad.
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  “We’d better go,” she said, though she didn’t really want to.

  Standing here with Travis next to her seemed so right.

  “I guess we’d better,” he agreed, though his words didn’t carry much conviction.

  They headed down the boardwalk together. The sun had dropped to the horizon, casting the town in dim shadows. The streets were nearly empty.

  “I promised the reverend’s wife I’d lend her my aunt’s book,”

  Brynn said. “I need to stop by the hotel and pick it up.”

  They went inside the hotel. Brynn was halfway up the staircase when a task she’d forgotten caused her to stop and turn back.

  Travis stood in the lobby, leaning his shoulder against the door casing, looking up at her.

  “I just remembered,” she said, feeling foolish. “I was supposed to wait at the social club. Mr. Smith was coming by with a donation.”

  Travis pushed himself upright. “Hiram Smith?”

  “I know you have your suspicions about him,” Brynn said.

  “But he insisted I meet him this evening to accept his donation.”

  “Smith expected you to be at the social club? Not here?”

  “Yes. And I think his generosity should prove to you, once and for all, that he’s not—”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Travis bounded up the steps, caught her arm and hustled her into the lobby.

  “What on earth has gotten into you?” Brynn asked.

  He grasped her arms and leaned down.

  “Smith expects you to be waiting for him at the social club,”

  he said. “I’m going to check your room. Give me your key.”

  Brynn rolled her eyes. “This is silly. Mr. Smith—”

  “Give me your key,” he said again.

  She dug into her skirt pocket and handed him the room key.