Between Love and Lies (21 page)

The boy’s voice reached her first. Muffled snatches of words, whipped by the wind. “A disagreement between drovers and railroaders...insulting each other’s profession…. a brawl…at the rail depot.”

He’d embellished the tale she’d asked him to report, but he’d kept the location. Thank the heavens. The depot was the farthest point from the jail. Distance meant time. She needed all the time she could get.

His voice faded, then vanished, leaving her alone in the gloom and the growing storm both outside and within. An irrational disappointment that the first part of her plan had succeeded overwhelmed her.

Noah was no longer near.

She gritted her teeth and counted to ten before she faced the street. Directly across stood the mercantile and next to it the jail.
Both silent and somber. She’d donned her drabbest dress of faded blue, hoping it’d help her blend into the shadows.

Probably wouldn’t do a lick of good.

She ran as fast as she could. Behind her, the Star buzzed with its usual music and laughter. When she reached the boardwalk, she flattened her spine against the storefront and struggled to catch her breath. To her right waited the jail with its brick walls and barred windows.

The wood creaked under her feet. She concentrated on placing her feet carefully. It didn’t help. Finally she stood outside the jail with a pair of hairpins in her hands. The lock opened surprisingly fast. Her recent practice had paid off.

She slipped inside and secured the door behind her.

Nothing but shadows greeted her. She crept into them, past a chair by a desk. The bars of a cell made her halt. A black hole of a doorway loomed on her left. She went through it. Her knees bumped something hard and soft. A mattress on an iron frame.

She ran her hands over the bed to the low table at its head. Her fingers brushed rough metal and smooth glass. She found the lantern’s wick, lit it and turned it down so there was a better chance it wouldn’t be seen from the street.

Around the bed, and her, loomed a jumble of haphazardly stacked trunks and cases.

She searched for Edward’s leather-bound and brass-studded steamer trunks. When she found the matching pair, she dropped to her knees and rifled through their contents. She didn’t bother to return the items to their proper order.

Despair riddled her heart when she reached the bottom of the second trunk. Why hadn’t she found his watch and box? She scanned the room for her answer. Could they have gotten mixed up with the other baggage?

Too many. Too little time. She raised her chin. No time to lose. She couldn’t leave until she checked every one.

She scrambled to complete her quest. On and on. Faster and faster. Until her head throbbed and her chest grew tight. She paused to focus on drawing in air. The dizziness would pass. It always did. But tonight she couldn’t wait for it to even recede.

Hurry. You can’t leave empty-handed.

She stood to move to the next trunk. Her blood roared in her ears. An inky circle swallowed the edges of her vision, closing in…until all went black.

* * *

Noah’s steps dragged
as he slogged through the mud. He rubbed his eyes and gave his head a shake. Water sloshed from his hat onto his shoulders and down his back. Adding to the soaking he was receiving from the heavens.

Lord, he was tired. He hadn’t slept at all last night. It’d been worth it. Every minute Sadie had trusted him to hold her hand and keep her safe, while she slept and regained her strength had been time well spent.

Tonight’s activities hadn’t been worth a plug nickel. First the false alarm at the depot then, as he and Bat walked back into town, a real fight. This one between two girls at the Crystal Palace over a customer who’d offered his wages to both but only had sufficient for one.

Now, all he wanted was to collapse on his bed.

The instant he glimpsed the Northern Star through the downpour, his fatigue faded and his pace quickened. What was Sadie doing? Was she safe? Would she trust him to help her again?

He halted with one boot on the saloon’s bottom step. The wind picked up, howling around him in rebuke.
You can trust me,
he’d told her. Trust him to act the jealous idiot…and not ask what she’d promised Edward.

He bounded up the steps. Why hadn’t he asked? Behind him, a sudden gust roared over his shoulder. The wind hit the saloon doors before he could. They whipped inward and slammed back against his outstretched hand.

Son-of-a—
Pain shot up his arm and spun him sideways, away from the light blazing within toward a fainter one down the street. Something flickered in the jail’s window.

His stinging palm went immediately to his revolver. He hadn’t left any lanterns lit.

Was Bat inside? When they’d parted ways, the marshal claimed he had an errand to run before heading to his own bed at the Dodge House Hotel.

He squinted through the rain. The illumination wasn’t coming from the jail’s main room. Why would Bat, or anyone, go in the other room? Only thing in there besides his bed and worn trail gear was that god-awful clutter of abandoned baggage.

With his hand on his revolver, he jogged, and slipped and slid, through the muck to the jail. The door wouldn’t open. Bat never locked it when he was inside.

He drew his gun first and the brass key ring from his vest pocket second.

Inside, across an expanse of black, a glow filled the doorway leading to his sleeping quarters. The light flared, fed by the air he’d let in. Careful not to make a sound, he shut the door behind him. He kept his footsteps silent as well. He couldn’t stop the water from dripping off him and pattering on the floor.

Hopefully whoever was in the other room would only hear the rain drumming on the roof.

He lunged the last two strides and braced himself in the doorway. His revolver swept the room. Trunks and cases lay open. Their contents strewn on the floor around a heap of faded blue and bright red.

Dread sucked the air from his lungs as he scrambled through the chaos to reach Sadie. Her face was as white as the daisies blanketing the graveyard he’d followed her to on his second day in town.

On his knees beside her, he tried to speak. Failed. Tried again. Her name came out no better than a croak. “Sadie?”

She didn’t answer, didn’t move.

He shut his eyes against her stillness, rejecting it. His entire body shook as he leaned down to hold his ear over her lips…to feel her breath. Warm. Alive.

His own breath left him a whoosh, leaving space for questions to form. What had happened at the Star to bring her here? Was she running away again?

When he opened his eyes, his gaze found the nearest trunk: lid raised, contents hanging out, more scattered on the floor. The rest of the room was in a similar state. She hadn’t been fleeing; she’d been searching for something. What?

He shoved his revolver back in its holster, so he could use both hands to brush back her hair and turn her face to his. No answers lay there.

“You can’t go on like this. You’re going to kill yourself.”

Her skin was hot against his palms. A wave of anxiety rolled his gut into a knot. Not just hot. She was burning up. He had to lower her temperature. Fast.

Scooping her into his arms, he stood in the middle of the room. Where could he take her? Not the Star. Never there again. This time Madam Garrett’s anger would burn as hot as the woman in his arms. He couldn’t take her to the doctor or even Bat across the street. The second he stepped out onto Front Street too many eyes could be watching.

He’d promised to keep her safe. He couldn’t expose her to the storm brewing in the Star or the one raging outside. The rain continued to pummel the roof. It’d pour down the walls and turn the surrounding mud into a lake of ice-cold molasses.

A cold Sadie needed.

Outside the rear door, a barrel collected water from the roof. When he reached it, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Then he plunged her in up to her neck. She writhed in his grip, struggling to get out. He made sure she didn’t. That didn’t stop her from trying. The suffering contorting on her face stabbed his heart. Luckily her eyes remained closed. He wouldn’t have had the strength to withstand the hurt in them.

Only when her fever receded did he give in. Under the overhang of the roof, with his back sheltering her from the storm, he cradled her in his arms and prayed again. Unsuccessfully.

The heat under her skin returned.

She’d have to go back in the water. Probably many times. Each time she came out it’d be best if she were dried and made comfortable enough to rest.

Her dress had to come off. He carried her inside and laid her on his bed. Then he went back for the barrel and wrestled it inside.

Undressing a woman while keeping his gaze on her face was slow work. He refused to look elsewhere. Last night, he’d seen her as close to naked as person could get. He’d be damned if while she was sick and unconscious he looked at anything below her chin.

His fingers fumbled with the top button near her collarbone. He didn’t grow any steadier as he finished the job. He rung out the garment, spread it on a trunk to dry, and froze with his fingertips hovering over the fabric.

The checked pattern of blue gingham had faded. That didn’t matter. He’d never forget this dress, or the day he first saw it. Sadie had been wearing it when his herd demolished her farm. He’d come back searching for the girl in this dress. The confounding creature who’d snared him with her grit and then humbled him with her tears.

The weight of that day, packed with regrets, bowed his head. He swayed forward. The dress’ warmth stopped him. Heated by Sadie’s fever, it yanked him back to the present. Danger circled her again, closing in. He couldn’t let her die.

“Noah.” The raspy murmur spun him around to find Sadie’s eyes open. “I’m sorry I broke into your jail and—” She glanced at the room before she met his gaze again. “Made a mess of things.”

“Your presence is an improvement.” His fingers found her cheek, wanting to reassure her, to soothe her worry.

She turned her head away. “I won’t get you in trouble. I must leave.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his voice even. “I can’t let you go. I have to put you back in the water barrel.”

With wide eyes, she faced him again. “Don’t you mean the bathtub? Are we going back to the Star after all?”

“No, you’re staying here and…you’ve already been in the water once but you need to go in again.”

Her eyes flared even wider. Whatever was in them wasn’t fear or even worry. “To do that wouldn’t I have to undress first?”

His gaze disobeyed and swept down her body. The linen of her shift clung to every swell and valley. He glanced up in time to see her gaze go where his had been a moment before.

“Oh,” she said in a hushed voice.

He held his breath, dreading what she’d say next.

“Aren’t we going to take off my under-clothes as well?”

He bit back his groan. The thin garment didn’t need to come off and continuing this particular discussion wouldn’t help lower her fever. “We’ll put you in as you are.” He leaned down to gather her in his arms. “I’m sorry. It must be done.”

“Noah, stop.” Her hands captured his face.

Her gentle grasp held him immobile, every part of him except for his fingers clenching the mattress on either side of her. “Your illness has worsened. We need to—”

“Stop.” She pressed her forehead against his lips. “Stop trying to save me. It’ll be your downfall. What can I say to make you listen?” She slumped back against the bed and her gaze slid over his face, drifting, slipping back toward oblivion…but her hold on him remained tenacious. “You think I’m ill, but it’s merely a temporary weakness that came with the medicine.”

He fought not to rip holes in the mattress. “I knew it wasn’t helping. You won’t swallow another drop.”

“Listen to me. It’s not that simple.”

“It is. The most important thing is that you get better, which is why you have to stay and go back in the water.”

“Everyone assumed I’d become sick. Foolish to correct them. An easy lie.” She released him and covered her face with her hands. “The rest was harder.”

“Sadie—”

Her fingers curled into fists over her eyes. “Why won’t you listen?”

He was trying to, but his worry made it difficult. She was trying as well—trying to tell him the truth. He couldn’t understand any of it. And if he didn’t, he’d lose her. The increasing likelihood of that outcome left him short of breath and courage. “There’s no reason worth taking that blue swill.”

“Not in your world.” Her laugh came out sad and tired. “But in mine? If I wanted to thwart Gertie, I couldn’t waste any gift, even if it had a sharp edge.”

“Too sharp,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Not at first. In the beginning, the medicine promised protection along with Edward’s other gifts.”

An uncontrollable anger flared in his chest. “Tell me what your
friend
ever gave you beside illness?”

“He taught me to play cards, when to gamble, and how to lie when all else fails. It didn’t surprise me that his final gift would be a lie.” Her voice faded like the dying wind, sighing around the rafters. “The shock is how painful it’s been to hold the truth.”