Catch Me If You Can (23 page)

As she did, the front door swept open and she turned to greet the man who entered. Eleanor turned away and followed Clare into the sitting room.

“I want to go out with you,” Eleanor said, as Clare picked up a basket and the money her mother had left for her. Clare looked surprised. Eleanor hadn’t been outside since she’d arrived in Clearwater Creek.

“Well, all right, if you’re sure you’re ready.” She seemed pleased at the unexpected company and Eleanor was ready.

They stepped out into the bright sunlight of the street and Eleanor shielded her eyes, looking around with interest. She knew the street from the hazy filtered view through the lace curtains in her room, but it was strange and unreal to be standing in the place she’d only seen from up there, and in the distant distorted memory of her first arrival in the small town.

They walked across the dusty street to the large general store, some thirty feet away from the house. As she stepped through the door behind Clare, she looked around eagerly at the vast piles of goods on display in front of her, glad to be out again. There was a long wooden counter at the far end where the shopkeeper served a customer. Clare passed amongst the shelves, tinkering with things that weren’t on her list.

As Eleanor looked around, the door opened and a man walked in and went over to the customer at the counter, taking the woman by the arm and greeting the shopkeeper with a cold remark. He was well dressed, but he had a mean set to his features. As he passed Eleanor coldness swept up in her bones.

“The judge,” Clare whispered, drawing closer.

The coldness turned to ice and froze Eleanor to the spot. She forced herself to turn and look at the man again. As she did, he led the woman from the counter, his arm hard under her elbow. The woman looked frightened and there were dark shadows on her gaunt face.

When they’d gone, Eleanor trailed after Clare around the shelves and eventually to the counter where the lady shopkeeper stood. Eleanor’s mind had leapt into activity, addressing buried thoughts.

“Howdy, Clare, who’s your friend?” the shopkeeper said, giving the two a broad smile, now the shop was empty.

“This is Eleanor Craven. She’s staying with us. Mama says she’s a lovely visitor ‘cos she helps out in the kitchen.” 

Eleanor blushed, and the shopkeeper laughed.

She poked about under the counter. “Bella’s order came through from Salt Lake City, you know, that silk she was after.”  She pulled a package out and checked its contents.

Eleanor whispered to Clare, “Was that the judge’s wife?” 

Clare nodded silently.

The shopkeeper looked up from the package she was checking through. “That poor woman, no bruises this week but she had a real bad black eye last month.” 

Eleanor wondered if she understood her statement correctly. “He beats her?”

The shopkeeper nodded, subdued and the three women retreated for a moment into themselves, thinking of the absent woman.

When they returned to the house, Eleanor went to her room and sat quietly. She confronted thoughts she’d ignored for too long. This sighting of the judge had truly awakened her. A dark, determined longing for resolve took root inside her. For the next couple of days, she was absorbed with those thoughts, floating about at her chores in a state of confused concern, a conflict between past and present.

“I wonder who they are,” Clare said and nudged Eleanor, who was deep in thought.

Eleanor peeped through the screen.

Four men stood in the hall below. Susie and Pearl chatted to them, eyeing them eagerly and flashing conspiratorial looks at each other.

Eleanor found herself captured by a familiarity of pose in one of the men.

She looked closer, gasped and stepped back, for she thought for a moment that the man was Rivers.
Rivers? Here, in Clearwater Creek?

“It can’t be him,” she murmured, wondering if madness finally had a grip on her. She blinked. Rivers was right there, dressed in dusty riding clothes and holding his hat in his hand. His familiar body was propped on the banister at the bottom of the stairs.

Eleanor’s heartbeat sped, her breathing becoming erratic.

She walked away from the screen, pacing, to calm her frantic responses. Part of her wanted to run down and throw herself into his arms and hold him, the other part wanted to run away and hide. There didn’t seem to be an imminent reconciliation between the two reactions to his presence.

“What is it?” Clare said, concerned at Eleanor’s sudden change of mood.

“Hush,” she replied, her finger against her mouth. She walked back to the screen in time to see him disappear into Fern’s room. She closed her eyes and tried again to think clearly. She still couldn’t believe it was him. She had to know for sure.

After a few moments she followed and peeped in through a crack in the door

He was lying on the couch stripped to the waist, his face turned away from her. The couch – the very couch where her own body had lain before.

Eleanor crept into the room.

Fern looked at her curiously.

Eleanor’s gaze swept the strong line of his back. His muscled arms were folded under his head, his hair thrown back to one side. As she drew alongside the table, she realized he was dozing, his breath slow and rhythmic, and smiled to herself.

Fern stared at her as her hands moved over the man’s shoulders. There was a question in her eyes. Eleanor spread her hands above Fern’s and waited for a second, indicating she wanted to take over. Fern reinforced the question in her eyes. Eleanor put her hand over her heart, and nodded to the prone man. Fern smiled and nodded.

As Eleanor lowered her hands to his back, Fern lifted her own, touched her friend gently on the arm, then crept over to the door and left them alone.

Rivers.
Her heart ached and swelled in her chest.

His hair had a film of dust on it and she moved her hands up to his neck, to move the strands of hair that lay there. There was stubble on his chin. His silver chain that he wore brushed her fingers as they passed over it, causing her to smile again.
It truly is him.

The feeling of his solid ribs, cloaked in hard, firm muscle, mesmerized her. She absorbed the look of his hipbone as it rose up in a dramatic plane against the table. His body was strong, hard and desirable. Eleanor wondered if she could stay this way for ever, her hands roving his body, he at rest in her loving embrace.

Something deep within her demanded more though.

She wanted to hold him; she wanted to draw him close against her and inside her body. She wanted to feel his strength united with her again. She wanted to love him, physically, toward a deep and long-awaited fulfillment.

“I love you, Rivers,” she whispered.

Yes, she loved him and she was wet with desire for his body.

She loved him. Her heartbeat the message in her ears, loudly.

It was undeniable.

Chapter Nineteen

The Hunter Disarmed

Rivers stirred and moved his head slightly.

I love you too.

He was exhausted but still his dreams were full of Eleanor.

He saw her standing on the landing at Oaklands in her wispy nightdress, then she was in his arms and he was holding her naked body against his, the two of them basking in the golden afterglow of their lovemaking. He ached for that feeling to be real again. A gentle kiss touched his shoulder blade, another rested on his spine. He smiled and let himself slide back into the dream. A subtle movement lifted his body. He rolled onto his back, but dozed on.

“Rivers, my love,” she whispered.

He looked at her hazy form, softened by the muted light from the window. It was such a glorious dream.

She unbuckled his belt, stroked his abdomen gently, her finger trailing down into his groin, where he was hard with desire. Then she stripped off her simple dress and petticoats, and climbed up to straddle his hips. He stirred, adoring the way she looked – ethereal, her image appearing through the haze of the afternoon sun hovering all around her.

Her warmth enclosed him as she lowered herself onto his shaft. Ah, such bliss to be there, to be inside her again. She rode him. Each stride she took was tender torture to his inflamed shaft. It felt so real.

The dappled sunlight from the window fell across the soft skin of her breasts. Her neck arched back in ecstasy, black hair cascading over her naked shoulders and breasts. Her instinctive sensuality was undeniable. Her body was following a dance that came from deep within, a dance that could only be known through deep and unreserved sensuality. He’d known it would be this way with her from the moment he’d seen her at Oaklands. Images of those first days rushed through his mind and danced amongst this strange, dreamlike experience. Then he remembered her face the time he’d first pleasured her, and he knew he could die a happy man in that moment.

Somewhere a clock slowly chimed out the hour and he noticed the sheen on the skin between her breasts. She moved her hips from side to side and he moaned as the ecstasy of it became real to him.

“I always knew it would be this way,” he whispered. “From the moment I first saw you.” 

She drew his fingertips to her lips and kissed them. “Yes.”

Her warm wet flesh throbbed around his rigid shaft. Everything was focused in that divine heat that held him so close. His balls tightened, the dam was about to burst. She gripped him tighter as she approached her peak. His hands wrestled her hips down onto him, his hips pushing up to drive himself deeper. She moaned, frantically, her breasts heaving. He felt the spasm of her climax.

It’s so real.

She ground down onto his hips in frenzied desperation.

Rivers clutched at her, saying her name, calling to her.

She came, waves of her heat dousing them both.

His loins contracted with need. He groaned and bucked his hips against her, giving himself to her in waves that pumped through her body.

“Oh yes,” she cried, her face rapt with pleasure.

He half sat, grabbing at her with hungry arms. He kissed her, held her, and rocked her against him. “My precious love. Is it a dream?”

“No, I’m here, my love, I’m with you.” She kissed him gently. “I love you, Rivers.”

“Yes,” he replied joyously, against her mouth. “I love you, too.”

Satisfaction roared inside him. He hauled her close, burying his head against her neck and holding her against him. He’d found her, he’d truly found her, and it was as he’d dreamed. They’d joined once more.

He’d found her, here.

He opened his eyes, saw the clock that had chimed. He recalled giving his men an hour. His head jerked up. “Eleanor, you are here?” His voice was loud. “This is a brothel. Dear god, what are you doing living in a place such as this?”

She’d gone too far this time, with her mad schemes. He sat up, putting her from him, his body growing rigid with outrage. He pulled his clothing into place, the belt slapping against her thigh as he buckled it over his hips. He stood from the low couch and stared at her, horror struck.

“Rivers! Bella took me in. I was sick, alone,” she implored, her hands reaching for him as he strode about, pulling his boots off the floor and clambering into them.

“This is a whorehouse.” Even as he said the words, he couldn’t quite take it in.

“You are here,” she retorted, upset by his accusations.

“I came here for the sake of my men, who are travel weary with hunting for you. I haven’t looked at another woman since the moment I met you.”

“I didn’t know.” Her pretty mouth turned down at the corners, her shoulders sinking.

“Christ, woman, why didn’t you get in touch with Frieda if you were in trouble? We could have helped.” He had his jacket in his hand.

“I didn’t think I was in…trouble.” She blushed.

“Well I don’t suppose you would, the high and mighty Miss Craven who needs nobody – missing for weeks and ends up here, in a whorehouse. You, a fine lady with responsibilities and family who have been worried sick…I haven’t slept in weeks. I feared you were dead.”

“I’m sorry Rivers, please forgive me, I didn’t know you’d been looking for me. Please let’s be glad we have found each other.”

Her expression was pleading, but this time it was his turn to be irrational. He couldn’t acknowledge her forlorn expression, her confused embarrassment, even though it was clear. In the fierce grip of outrage, he acknowledged only the current circumstances of the woman he’d thought of as his own.

“You are too strong willed, Eleanor, if you can’t drop your ridiculous sense of self-reliance even now, you are beyond being helped.” He picked up his hat. “You will have to tell Frieda your whereabouts. I couldn’t bring myself to inform her of such sorry news.”

He stormed out of the room, his heart full of thunder, ignoring the hand that clutched at his arm as he passed.

* * *

Her heart was about to break. Stunned at his reaction to her circumstances and shocked he’d been there, when she’d thought him far away. He’d been looking for her. She paced the room, her dress trailing from her hand, trying to decide what to do. She loved this man and couldn’t bear for them to come to this. She thought about their blissful night at New Year’s Eve, and how she called for him at her most desperate moments, how she dreamed of being in his arms when she’d been cold, tired and lonely.

The fact she wanted his understanding gave her the will to try to resolve the chaos.
I love him, and I must do something about it.

When she was dressed she sought out Pearl and quizzed her. Pearl informed her the men had ridden from Fort Bridger where they had rooms in the saloon. Eleanor darted upstairs into the parlor and asked Bella for the loan of her horse and cart. Within minutes she was climbing up onto the rickety cart with Fern as her guide, and they set off toward Fort Bridger.

As the cart lurched along the rough track her mind swam with the things she intended to tell him. She wanted to be brief and succinct – no more arguments. It was time for some home truths, she told herself. Yes, she’d been headstrong and foolish. She was lucky to be alive and she was about to eat a big slice of humble pie.

“I won’t be long,” she said to Fern, as she stepped down in front of the saloon in the main street of the town. “Will you wait for me here?”

Fern nodded. Eleanor breathed deep and pushed open the doors.

The owner of the saloon didn’t blink an eyelid when she walked into the bar and begged for the whereabouts of the travelers, her hair flying down her back and her fingers knotting as she awaited his reply.

“Only one of ‘em about at the present time.”

It had to be him. She nodded.

He pointed up the stairs. “Third door on your left, Missy.”

She ran up the stairs. The door was ajar. She pushed it open.

The room was gloomy, with only chinks of light that crept in around the edge of the ill-fitting curtains. A bed stood on one side of the room and opposite it a large low armchair.

Rivers was sprawled in the chair, a bottle of whiskey at his side, a glass in his hand. His expression was grim.

The door slammed behind her.

She jumped. “Rivers-”

“Can’t a man drown his sorrows in peace?”

His tone was truly sarcastic and she swallowed hard

“Rivers, I implore you, hear me out.”

He shrugged and took a swig from the glass. His expression didn’t alter.

“I merely ask that you listen.” She glanced at the bed. There was nowhere else for her to sit. She walked over to it, feeling awkward. He followed her with his eyes his brooding expression didn’t alter. If anything it grew darker as she perched on the edge of the bed. They eyed each other, the silence heavy.

Despite her refusal, he stood and poured a draft of whisky into a glass and stood it on the bedside table near her, looking down at her with a frown as he did. His shirt buttons were all askew, his haste to leave her evident.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have come.

She looked at the whiskey. Maybe it would give her courage. She sipped at the drink, clutching at it with both hands, her eyes closing as the burning liquid hit the back of her throat.

“I want to apologize for leaving New York without sending you word.” It was hard to know where to start, so she started at the beginning – there was a long way to go.

His mouth slid into a cynical lopsided smile but he didn’t reply and focused on the mid distance.

“You were right, it was a hard journey and I was foolish thinking myself safe. I was hot headed, yes, and I nearly had to give up and rejoin the railroad-”

“You do realize I’ll have to bribe my men to keep secret where you have been holed up for the past weeks?” he blurted.

“You may not approve, but those women took me in.”

He looked at the floor again, so she continued with her explanation.

“I met good and bad along the route, found friends and made enemies. I’m a stronger person for it and it had to be done.”

The whiskey warmed her stomach, easing the tense muscles there. She wondered how much of it he’d had. The bottle was half empty and she supposed he could have got through it in the time it had taken her to catch him up. Was he even hearing anything she said? She gave a deep sigh.

“I had no idea you would follow me, and I apologize for not taking that into account.”

His strong, handsome mouth was down-turned. He shifted in his seat, his head resting on one hand, a single finger tapping the side of his glass. Perhaps he was listening.

“I did get into some serious trouble, a few weeks ago now. I was injured and caught a fever-”

“You are ill?” His head had snapped up, concern flickering in his eyes.

“I’m well now,” she replied, calmly, a little flutter of relief rising in her stomach at the concern he’d shown. Perhaps all wasn’t lost. “Thanks to Bella…Bella and the women there took me in when all I had was my saddlebag. They kept me safe and nursed me back to health. Whatever you have to say on that matter is irrelevant to the great debt I owe them for their generous care and affection toward me.” Eleanor swallowed.

He didn’t remark. He was making this as hard as possible for her. Surely he couldn’t believe that she’d…that there had been other men?

She stood, eager to be done with this wretched confession.

He looked at her.

She’d caught his attention when she moved.
Right, let me get the hardest part over with
, she thought to herself. Her independent-self balked at the need to justify herself to him, but her heart demanded it be done.

“I assure you that despite my current abode my virtue is questionable only in respect of my relationship with you...”

His eyes flickered and met hers.

That proved it, some of what she’d said had gone in. “I love you, Rivers, and I’ve not thought of another man since I met you, in fact the strength of my feelings assures me that should you chose to disbelieve my words today... well.”
My heart would break.
She couldn’t say the words but the nature of her feelings stuck in her throat, jagged and cruel.

“I’ve said my piece, and I’ll leave you to consider my words. If you wish to speak to me again, in a more adult manner than what passed between us earlier today.” She fixed him with a steady gaze. “You know where to find me.” She turned on her heel and stepped quickly to the door.

“Eleanor.”

She turned back and looked at him when he whispered her name.

He was looking at her as if he wanted to tear her clothes off and devour her, but he remained in his chair staring at her from the other side of the room. “You are a strong, brave young woman, but you are far too trusting for this world.”

His voice was slurred and he laughed. It was a hollow, wretched sound. His eyes were darkly overcast and hooded, his stubbled chin and shaggy hair wild and unkempt. He drained his glass. The frown on his forehead didn’t lift. Would he ever forgive her for her circumstances?