Authors: Shelley Gray
All her enthusiasm about being in such a fine place as the Addison Hotel faded. "You're leaving? To go where?"
"To see the sheriff." He rubbed his neck. "We've kept up a good clip, but I'm feeling like that isn't enough. We need to make sure Price isn't following us."
"Don't you think we would have heard something by now?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." He looked around the lobby. "You should be just fine here. I'll order you some tea and ask someone to bring it to you." Slipping his hat back on, he prepared to go. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
She felt far too much like a child being left behind. "I'd prefer to accompany you."
"No."
She'd almost argued. She'd almost stood up and dared to make a scene, just so he couldn't ignore her feelings. But that wouldn't do. "All right then. I'll wait right here."
Brown eyes softened. "I'll go ask someone to bring you tea, sweetheart. Stay here."
That had been an hour ago.
Vanessa sipped her tea and worried. And tried not to stare at all the assorted characters loitering in and around the fancy hotel. Gold miners, silver barons, gamblers, society ladies, ranchers—she'd never seen so many people in her life.
Their unfamiliarity put her on edge. She only knew ranch hands and men from neighboring spreads. Men barely older than her, eager to go out on their own; men who sounded like Texas and respected both her and her position in the area.
These men looked like they could have cared less. She didn't know how to act among these folks, especially since Clayton wasn't there to guide her.
Years of memories floated into consciousness, making longago actions feel as recent and as surprisingly hurtful as a splinter in her thumb.
Yes, more than a time or two she'd snuck to the barn at the Circle Z to tell Clayton about the latest buggy ride or picnic she went on. He would stop whatever he was doing and patiently listen to her.
Now that her life was so different, Vanessa could only imagine how silly she must have sounded. But Clayton had never acted like she was childish at all. Instead, he'd always stopped what he was doing and listened, remaining stoic and serious as she prattled on about nothing.
However, she recalled one time when he'd hadn't been able to hold back his amusement.
"What's so funny?" she'd asked.
"Nothing."
"Something is."
"It's just, well, I'm surprised those boys you complain about can ever get a word in edgewise, the way you talk so much."
She'd felt her cheeks color. "I do let them talk. I promise I do."
"That's good to know."
"They just aren't very interesting. Fact is, I don't talk to anyone like I talk to you, Clayton." Just to rile him up a bit, she added, "And for the record, most boys talk a whole lot more than you do.
You're as quiet as a church mouse."
"As a mouse? Sweetheart, don't ever compare a man to a mouse."
His endearment had made her bolder. "Quiet as a what, then?"
He leaned back in his chair, propped one dusty boot over a denim covered knee. "I don't know. It needs to be something manly. Like . . . like a bull."
She'd giggled in spite of herself. "I grew up on a ranch, Clayton.
Even I know bulls aren't known for their silence."
That surprised a bark of laughter from him. "You've got a point, sugar." Tenderness had filled his gaze. "We're a pair, aren't we? I don't talk enough, and you talk too much."
She'd liked feeling that they were a pair. It made her feel like they would belong together for a very long time. "We're a good pair, Clayton. You're such a good friend. What would I have done without you?"
He'd blinked and his eyes had sobered. "You would've been just fine."
"Do you think any man will ever say he wants to marry me?"
"Maybe—if you let him get a word in edgewise."
"I promise. If a boy gets down on one knee in front of me, I'll be quiet."
Oh, how they'd laughed. Now, though, that conversation felt bittersweet. Just weeks ago, Clayton had, indeed, gotten down on one knee. And she had been quiet and let him propose to her.
But it had been nothing like her girlish dreams.
As yet another coarse-talking cowboy in a fancy shirt and brand-new denims sidled past her in the entrance of the lobby, Vanessa gripped her teacup for strength, glad for the shiny new band on her finger.
To her surprise, she'd noticed more than one man eye her band for a good long time before giving her a wide berth. In some ways that band of gold made her feel as safe as Clayton's Winchester did on the trail. As secure as his arms did when he used to hold her close. Not that it kept everyone away.
"Missus, where's your husband at?" a gaudy gent said from a couch near the door to the bar.
"Excuse me?"
He grinned, revealing a nice set of white teeth. "Me and the boys have been watching you from the other side of the room. You been alone for a while."
A slight tingling of fear snaked through her. She knew no one. And, well, the man's hands were big. Not trusting herself to speak, she turned away.
The man sidestepped so she was staring at him once again."If you were mine, I wouldn't be giving you a moment's peace."
"He . . . he'll be right along."
"That a fact?" The man chuckled, then shared a knowing glance with two others who joined them. "I wonder when 'along' is. Are you lonely, sugar? We'd keep you company—"
A tall skinny man stepped forward, bringing with him the scent of unwashed skin. Reaching for her cup, he stuck his nose in the middle of it and breathed deep. "What is this? Tea?"
Vanessa knew she wouldn't touch the cup again. "I'm perfectly fine. Thank you."
The first man, the one in the pin-striped suit, grinned at that. "Yes, you are. Perfectly fine."
"Anson, you go on now. Leave her alone," a fancy-dressed woman in bright peacock silk called out as she descended the staircase and caused a commotion. "That there's a lady. Too good for the likes of you all."
Vanessa was transfixed. This woman seemed to draw everyone's attention just by smiling. Even the hotel clerk paused to watch her.
"Trot, set that cup down now."
Down went the cup. "Aw, Lace. I wasn't doing nothing."
Lace—or whoever she was—looked him up and down."You were doing enough." She shooed a hand. "Y'all, go on now. I'm going to keep this chickadee company for a bit. And we don't need no male company."
Little by little, the men scattered. Heat crept up Vanessa's neck, and despite her earlier vow not to, she picked up the teacup just to have something to do.
Where in the world was Clayton?
"You okay now, honey?" Lacy asked, swishing forward with a burst of energy and expensive perfume.
"Yes. Indeed." She was obliged to the redheaded woman, but didn't know what to say. She had been sheltered, but even she knew what a sporting woman looked like. And she certainly had been taught to never speak with such women. But she owed her something. "Thank you," she murmured, catching the woman's eye. "I'm obliged."
"Anytime. I know I'm not really your type of companion, but I'm going to sit here by you for a moment, just to make sure those boys leave you alone."
Relief made her palms damp. "I appreciate that."
Tossing a loose curl over one creamy white shoulder, Lace rolled her eyes. "Some men get so used to hanging around this place, they forget that there's a whole world of respectable ladies out there. I don't think they meant you any harm, though."
"My husband will be back soon."
The woman looked her up and down and smiled. Her eyes softened with something that almost looked like envy. "I'm sure he will. That's good."
The front doors of the Addison blew open then. Vanessa turned expectantly. Surely Clayton was returning?
But it was a man all in black with a swagger in his walk.With narrowed eyes, he walked purposely toward Vanessa's savior. "You free, Lacy?"
Lacy looked at Vanessa. For a moment she seemed to pause, then looked at her hand resting on the expensive gown. With a regretful sigh, she murmured, "Sorry, sugar, but I've gotta go."
Then her transformation began. Up went her chin. "Larry, as I live and breathe. I'm always free for you—for a price."
The man in black slowly grinned. "I'm paying."
"Then I'm all yours." After winking in Vanessa's direction, she turned and pressed herself against the man who'd joined them. "I didn't know if you were going to be around today."
"Had some business with the sheriff, but I'm done now."
"Thank goodness." Within minutes, they disappeared behind the swinging doors, raucous laughter following their departure.
Vanessa leaned back against her chair's cushions and closed her eyes. That man had been with the sheriff, too. What was keeping Clayton?
She was terribly ready to get out of the lobby. If she was approached again, it was highly unlikely that Lacy was going to be available to warn other cowboys off.
She was just wondering how to get more tea when Clayton finally entered the room, drawing everyone's eye with his handsome good looks and rigid posture. She felt like running into his arms.
"I'm sorry I was gone so long," he murmured as he took the seat across from her, the same spot where Lacy had perched."Did you have any trouble?"
She had no desire to bring up the men or the fancy woman."None to speak of. Is everything all right?"
"It's just fine," he said, glancing at her in concern. "It took a while to find Sheriff Parker, then I had to wait a bit for another man to finish his business. It took still longer to tell him about Price."
Vanessa tamped back the feeling of mortification. "Did you tell him everything?"
His gaze scanned her features, taking in every nuance.Then, as if making a sudden decision, he reached for her hand and pulled her across the way so that soon she was sharing the sofa with him. "That's better," he murmured. He scooted closer until their knees touched. Linked his fingers with hers again.
She appreciated the comfort she felt sitting by his side, but she wanted an answer. "Clayton, did you?"
"Enough. I had to give the lawman a reason why Price was trouble, Van. You know that."
"I know." Pressing a hand to her temple, she realized she was still terribly self-conscious. Knowing that yet another person now knew about why she was running shamed her. "Has he heard anything?" she asked nervously. "Has Price sent out a wire?"
"No, but I didn't expect him to. If Miles did as he promised, Price sent a posse up north first. By now, he's either giving up the search or making his way out west, but he's most likely a week to ten days behind us."
Rubbing his thumb along her knuckles, he said, "I showed Parker the marriage certificate Ken made up, just to be on the safe side. I don't want anyone thinking Price can pull you away from me without a fight." Shifting, he pulled off his hat.Though his long legs crept out near the small sofa like a spider's, he looked fairly comfortable. "I imagine sitting here in this fancy lobby feels mighty nice to you after our last days on the trail."
She smiled because it was expected. "Yes, indeed." She wasn't lying. Sitting in the Addison should have felt exciting—well, if those men hadn't approached her. Her history included having tea or coffee or lemonade with most every woman near the Circle Z over the last few years. That was what she had known.
But now it wasn't all she had known.
"Are you hungry?"
"No." When he looked at her funny, she made up an excuse."I'm still full from eating hours ago."
"Oh. Well, all right. Let's go on up to the room and get some sleep. I'd like to leave before daylight. With any luck, we'll reach Corrine's place by nightfall tomorrow."
Uneager to leave just yet, because she knew as soon as they got to their room he would turn quiet, she struggled for a reason to keep them seated. "But before we go upstairs, tell me about your sister."
"Corrine? What do you want to know?"
"I don't know. I just was looking at all the many women around here, wondering about their pasts. All of them made me think about your sister. So, when was the last time you saw her?"
"Not since the war."
"Were y'all close?"
He looked surprised by the many questions. "I suppose.We were close enough, I guess. She was just always my baby sister."
"Baby sister? Clayton, I thought she was married."
He chuckled, smoothing the lines of fatigue around his eyes. "She is. I guess no matter how old she is, I can't help but think of her in any way except in pigtails, bothering me."
The image of Clayton fending off a pesky sister made Vanessa smile. "How much younger is she?"
"Five years. Another four separate her and our brother Scout."
Vanessa tried to piece together his past. "Your mother died birthing Scout, right?"
"Yes. It hit our pa hard, though I have to say that he was a man of honor. Some men can't handle life without a woman, but not my pa. Not Arthur Proffitt. He just made Corrine and me pitch in even more."
"Especially you, I imagine."
"I was the oldest. But Corrine did a lot with Scout. She practically raised him in a lot of ways, especially when Pa and I went off to fight."
Their pasts could always be traced back to the war. The battles had changed everything, transforming their lives as completely as Sherman's march through Georgia. "What happened to Corrine and Scout when y'all left?"
"She and Scout went to live with an aunt close to Austin, near where I was stationed. One day I brought my commanding officer by, promising him my Aunt Marge's biscuits."Clayton shook his head in memory. "John Merritt took one look at Corrine and didn't care a lick about anything else."
She sighed, caught up in the story in spite of herself. "That's terribly romantic."
Clayton's lips curved. "It was, I suppose. Corrine says she and Merritt fell in love from just about the moment they set eyes on each other, and I believe it to be true."