The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (14 page)

Mae urged Lucky to a trot and left what remained of the shot-up snake baking in the afternoon sun. The skin would make Henry a lovely belt, and the rattles, well, maybe they’d entertain a little Henry Jr. someday.

“Henry Jr.” She laughed as she spurred the horse to a full gallop. “Wouldn’t that just be the dandiest thing? And maybe a little Mae, as well.”

The Bible said a man with a quiver full of young ’uns was a man well blessed. Not that Henry’s quiver would be full anytime soon. Even if they were married, she hadn’t seen soap and water in a week. Likely he’d prefer she kept to the trail than start keeping house for him.

And for today, that suited her just fine. Especially with a dark cloud looming on the horizon. Mae stood in the stirrups and pushed her hat back, letting the wind do the job of brushing the tangles from her hair. She’d ride for the caves and wait out whatever storm was blowing in.

Then tomorrow she’d see Deadwood and dear Henry.

Daniel could have stared at the woman sprawled before him until forced to stop, but propriety required he help her to her feet. How best to accomplish the trick eluded him, however, as the woman seemed incapable of helping in the process.

He offered his hand, but she merely stared. A question as to how he might assist went unanswered.

She seemed stunned into a complete stupor. Being a man, and a poor example of gentlemanly virtues on occasion, he took the opportunity to stare. And it was quite the opportunity.

Hair the color of honey and the texture of silk tumbled over the too-broad shoulders of the buckskin jacket and teased the collar of a prim and proper frock the shade of pistachio ice cream. Her cheeks had pinked to match her lips, forming a contrast that set his mind reeling.

Then he spied the boots.

While he’d never manage to wedge his feet into them, they were obviously far too large for this make-believe cowgirl. They also proved a great hindrance when she attempted to scramble to her feet, for the overlong soles merely slid along the polished floorboards like sleds on the North Slope. With nothing to hold her feet to the floor, the boots skidded and slipped but did not allow her to stand. Asking her to remove them would be most improper, as would questioning why she wore them in the first place.

Yet despite the oddness of her ensemble, she did look quite fetching in it.

“You’re staring,” she said, and unless he misunderstood, she’d added a saucy tone to the chastisement.

“I am,” he said, “though no man with a pulse would fault me for it.”

“And you have me at a disadvantage,” she said, “for should I find fault with you, I’ve no recourse but to endure it.”

Daniel grinned. Had this creature just crossed the delicate line between being a damsel in distress and being a damsel who was interested?

“Then I shall remedy the situation,” he said, “though I might have to resort to extraordinary measures. Your ensemble, well, presents a bit of a problem.”

“Yes, about that—”

He held up his hand to silence her. “No, don’t tell me. You’ve gone missing from the Wild West show.”

“Not exactly.”

“You’re a western version of Little Bo Peep, only instead of sheep, you’ve lost your cattle. I’m quite handy at finding things, so perhaps I might be of assistance.”

“Indeed, you might,” she said. “Though the assistance I most sorely need is likely not something you can help with. Now if you will excuse me, I’ll gather my dignity.”

“I beg to protest,” he said. “I find your dignity quite intact.”

“And yet I am sprawled on the floor like a wanton woman. Which I am decidedly not,” she added quickly and with great emphasis.

“Ah, I do see the dilemma.”

There was nothing to do but haul her upright, which he did. She landed on both feet, or rather both boots, and began sputtering some sort of nonsense that Daniel waved away even as he held tight to keep her from pitching forward.

She was a beauty, this odd combination of cowgirl and lady, and Daniel was reluctant to let go. “Are you steady on your feet now?” he asked, hoping she might say no.

“I am.” Eyes of columbine blue fringed with thick dark lashes rose to meet his stare, and he felt the impact to his toes.

Her answer disappointed him, though he’d never liked a helpless woman. “You’re sure?” His words came out half an octave lower than he expected. She didn’t seem to notice as she stared at him with a look he’d
seen on women much less interesting than this one. An odd thrill surged through him as he realized they were flirting. He’d indulged in his share of it before, but never had he enjoyed it quite as much as now. Emboldened, he continued. “Because I could stand here holding you up all afternoon if need be.”

“And I could let you,” he thought he heard, though it might have been wishful thinking on his part.

When she said no more, Daniel rushed to fill the silence, afraid she’d notice he still held her. “Perhaps we could wait until the rest of the Wild West show returns for you. Surely you’re the star attraction.”

“In my dreams,” she said with a wistful grin, seeming to study a spot somewhere behind him.

“No,” he said, recognizing he was acting as foolish as a boy barely out of knee pants but unable to stop himself, “not in
your
dreams.”

Blue Eyes jerked her attention back to him. “No?”

“No,” he said gently as he leaned toward her. “More likely in mine.”

When she formed the word
oh
, her lips pursed, and Daniel stared. What was happening to him? A perfect stranger had captured his attention like no practiced belle of the ball had ever managed. All save one, that is.

The reminder almost caused him to let go. Almost made him look away from the lips he inexplicably wanted to remember tonight when he laid his head on his pillow.

“Everything all right over here, folks?” George called.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw the clerk approach. He released Blue Eyes and took a step backward. “Just fine,” he said, forcing his attention onto the clerk.

“Thank you,” the woman said as she moved away, shrugging out of the buckskin jacket and disappearing behind a display of handbags.

Daniel itched to follow and at least inquire as to her name, but wisely stood his ground, even when he heard the thud of boots hitting the floor. A woman like that could get under a man’s skin, and he couldn’t allow such a thing.

Not anymore.

“Something I can help you with, Daniel?” George inquired.

It took a moment to remember exactly why he’d come into Fisher’s at all. “A surprise for my daughter,” he finally said. “Something to make her forgive me for my absence.”

“I’ve got just the thing.” George scampered away, leaving Daniel to search the store for Blue Eyes.

He found her near the front again, this time with a fresh copy of Mae Winslow’s adventures in hand. Boldness overtook him, and he sauntered her way. Perhaps he too would take up reading the penny dreadfuls. He picked up the first one he saw.

“That Mae Winslow’s quite a character,” he said as casually as he could manage. “Always one adventure after another.”

She held a copy of the same book against her chest, one hand shielding the cover. “What?” she asked as if she’d not heard him. “Oh, yes, I suppose. At least, I’ve heard.” Her cheeks grew a shade closer to scarlet. “That is, I’ve known people who’ve purchased the books and told me her adventures are quite…”

“Adventuresome?” he supplied.

“Yes.” She carefully replaced the book on the shelf, then turned to study a display of shaving cups.

Daniel set his book beside hers, then slid up next to the woman who’d well and truly entranced him. “Please tell me you’re not in the market for one of these for your husband.”

Just before she ducked her head, Daniel thought he saw her smile. “No,” she said.

Interesting. But did that mean no husband or just no, she wasn’t buying something for him? How to find out? If only he had more practice in this area. His skills were more than rusty.

“Your brother, perhaps?”

This time she met his gaze with what appeared to be a twinkle in her eyes. Long lashes swept cheekbones set high under porcelain skin. “No, I rather doubt Connor is in need of one at present.”

“A pity,” he said, brushing her sleeve as he reached past her and took up one of the ridiculous mugs. Instead of regarding the crockery cup, he never broke his eye contact with her. “It’s possibly the finest example I’ve seen in a very long time. Just beautiful, with the kind of lines that would make a man happy to reach for it every morning.”

“Sir,” she said softly, with just the right combination of outrage and interest to make a man grin, “are we still talking about the shaving mug?”

“No.” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “I’m not certain we are, and I do apologize.”

“Were I to accept your apology,” she said, stepping away just slow enough to allow him to replace the mug and follow, “then I would also have to accept the fact that you are not a gentleman.” She paused in her motion and he did the same. “And I’m reluctant to do that. Surely you understand.”

He did. A bead of perspiration trickled down the back of his neck and disappeared inside his collar.

“I think you’ll be quite happy with what I’ve found, sir,” George called, his mission accomplished far too soon.

“Thank you, George,” Daniel said, but when he turned back to the woman, she was nowhere to be found. He reluctantly returned to the counter and paid for the gift, waiting while George wrapped it, not realizing until he’d left the store that he didn’t even know what he’d bought.

Out on the sidewalk, he consulted his watch and thought of finding his way to Charlotte’s school rather than the office. Only the need to send out several telegrams and finalize his plans to fire the governess sent him up the street toward his workplace, though not without a last glance toward the store, in case the blue-eyed woman reappeared.

Gennie stumbled toward the counter on wobbling knees, careful to note the direction the intriguing man had departed. “I’ll pay for the novel,” she told the clerk, “and the rest will go on Mr. Beck’s household account.”

“Is that so?” the fellow said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me himself. You’re sure he’ll approve?”

“Actually, it was Tova. She’s the—”

“Housekeeper.” He nodded. “Yes, I know. Now that you mention it, I recognized the dress you came in with as one she bought for you.” The clerk leaned closer. “So,” he said with what seemed like quite a bit of innuendo, “you’re the gal who’s been hired to tame Charlotte Beck.”

“I am.”

His laughter grated on her, but she maintained her dignity and her silence.

“You’re an awfully pretty woman to be going about such ugly business.” He slapped his palm on the counter, and Gennie jumped. “For all I respect Daniel, I sure don’t understand why he doesn’t turn that girl over his knee and—” He shook his head. “Well, I can’t judge, and goodness knows he’s had his share of difficulty that goes beyond a misbehaving child. Poor man’s been hounded mercilessly by the local women ever since he lost his wife, you know.”

An interesting fact. Not that it was any business of hers. An adventure of the Wild West variety did not depend in the least on Daniel Beck’s domestic situation.

“I couldn’t help noticing you’ve attracted a bit of interest, but I’ve got to warn you, lassoing that one’s a lost cause.”

Her brows shot up in outrage, but she quickly tamed them. Loath to discuss her personal business with a shopkeeper, Gennie withdrew the appropriate amount of money from her reticule and pushed the coins toward him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d prefer to settle my account now.”

“I see.” He looked toward the door, then slowly back to her. A strange look crossed his face as he regarded her in an odd way.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, adjusting her collar and straightening her cuffs.

“Problem? No, miss. Just speculating on something I ought not speculate on.” He went back to tallying the amounts with his pencil. “Should I have these items delivered, or will you be taking them with you?”

Gennie decided to ignore the man’s poor behavior in favor of taking the high road. “I’ll have them now, please.”