In Close Pursuit

by Colleen French

  She shook her head. How did he know she was running? "I can't."

  He nodded. "I could help. " He thought of the man at the boardinghouse who was looking for his wife. It was an awfully strange coincidence that the man would be from Tennessee. Adam wondered if he'd just made love to someone's wife. He wondered if he cared. He kissed her again, covering her body with his leg and arm, as if he could protect her from whatever or whoever was out there that she feared. "It's all right, then," he whispered. "For now I've got enough love for both of us."

  Chapter Seventeen

  After a few hours of rest in the foothills. Adam and Jessica rode northeast. Wanting to make up for lost time, they rode hard, putting mile after mile between them and the Utes. It was well after dark when they finally came into the town of Pocatello on the Portneuf River.

  "This is still part of the Oregon territory," Adam told her, "but it won't be long before Idaho's a state. I give it ten years. People are settling here fast. The railroad's coming in. Miners making their fortunes." Jessica nodded. She was worn to the bone. Adam's voice was comforting. He knew so much; she could listen to him by the hour.

  "There's a place with rooms to rent." She pointed. Ahead was a huge new frame house with a lantern hanging by the door. The light from the lamp illuminated a scrolled sign advertising rooms and meals.

  Adam rode up to a hitching post and dismounted. "I'll go in and see about a room. Then we'll find a livery stable. Hera and Zeus could both use a good rubdown and some grain."

  Jessica slid out of her saddle and came around to Adam. She was so tired she could barely walk. Now that her ordeal with the Indians was over, she was beginning to realize the hell they'd put her through. She laid her hand gently on his arm. "I have a better idea. Let me get us a place to sleep. You find the stable and put up the horses."

  Adam bristled. "I can get a room."

  "I just thought we'd avoid any confrontations. Neither of us has the energy for it tonight. Once the room's rented they won't put you out, not with you carrying that badge."

  He scowled. She was right. He knew she was right. But it hurt. He wanted to feel like he could care for her. What good was he if he couldn't rent a damned room for the night without getting into a brawl?

  She stroked his forearm. "Please. I just want to sleep in your arms."

  He glanced over her. "And what makes you think anyone's going to rent you a room? You look like a savage yourself," he said testily.

  She ran a hand over her doeskin dress. It was all she had. She knew she looked a sight wearing her riding boots and wide-brimmed black hat and squaw's dress that fell to her midthighs, but it couldn't be helped.

  Self-consciously she combed her fingers through her wild, tangled hair. "I'll manage." She took a saddlebag off Hera's back and flung it over her shoulder. She watched Adam lead the horses away and then looked up at the sign that swung overhead.

  BARTON'S HOTEL. The building was brand spanking new; she could smell the fresh-cut lumber and the fumes of just dried paint. The hotel was of modern architecture with multilined roofs, walls of windows, and a front porch that stretched the length of the building and wrapped around the side. Even in the darkness she could make out the subtle pink and white exterior paint.

  Jessica pushed open the door with the oval glass window. The moment she stepped inside the hotel and her dusty boots hit the thick carpet at the entryway, she wished she'd let Adam get the room himself. A lady and a gentleman enjoying evening tea at a table in a parlor to the left looked up at her. The woman gave a gasp and brought an embroidered handkerchief to her mouth. The man's handlebar mustache began to twitch.

  Jessica looked down at the scrolled pink carpet. Her boots had left dusty footprints. She was tempted to turn and run. She'd be lucky if the proprietor didn't toss her out on her ear, looking like she did. But she was tired and she didn't want to look for another hotel or boardinghouse. What right did someone have to give or deny rooms on the basis of how she or anyone looked? If she had the hard cash, she had a right to the room. Spotting a small desk, she marched up and hit the brass bell. It dinged. When she got no immediate response she whacked it again.

  A flowered pink and lavender chintz curtain parted in the doorway behind the desk and a well-dressed, red-haired man with a great red beard appeared. He blinked, obviously startled. "Good Lord, woman, do you need help?" He stared at her doeskin dress and tangled hair. A white woman in Indian clothing! The poor woman had obviously been captured by savages. What a miracle that she was still alive!

  "I need a room. I have money."

  The woman was obviously out of her head. Only God knew how she'd been tortured! "Did Indians do this to you, ma'am?"

  She rolled her eyes heavenward. "You think I'm voluntarily walking around half-naked down the street?" She leaned on the desk, with both hands. "Yes, Indians did this to me; now give me a blasted room!"

  The redhead stood frozen for a moment and then broke into a smile. He pulled his registry book from a drawer and began to flip through the pages. "Guess the Indians didn't make out too well."

  "Guess they didn't."

  He picked up a quill and dipped it into an inkwell. "Name?"

  "There'll be two of us. Deputy Marshal Adam Sern will be paying."

  The redhead's mouth dropped open. He stared in disbelief. "Sern? You're traveling with Sern?" He slapped his knee. "I'll be damned. I thought it was all gossip! A good week ago somebody came through here telling some tall tale about a half-breed deputy marshal and a gun-toting female tracking the Black Bandit." His eyes fell to the Smith & Wesson six-shot revolving pistol she'd traded her derringer in on. It had been a gift to Adam from the Utes, but since he already had his onyx-handled Bisleys he'd given it to her.

  Jessica pushed back a lock of her hair and glared back. "Could I just have the room?"

  He slapped the counter. "It's yours—free of charge."

  Just then the front door opened and Adam walked in. He had saddlebags thrown over his shoulder and both rifles in one hand. He glanced up at the crystal chandelier, alight with dozens of candles, that hung above his head. He raised a dark eyebrow.

  Jessica couldn't resist a smile. Adam wore dungarees, a blue shirt, and the snakeskin boots she hated, but she remembered him in his loincloth. Her cheeks went hot. She couldn't help thinking about what they'd shared last night.

  "Is there trouble?" Adam asked. His voice was low and rumbly. It sounded odd to Jessica enclosed by the walls of a wallpapered room. His voice was one meant for the open land.

  "Problem? Good Lord, a'mighty, no!" The redhead hustled around the desk and clasped Adam's hand, pumping it, "Pleased to meet you, Deputy Marshal. I was just telling the lady here that the room's on the house. Got a honeymoon suite. You're welcome to stay as long as you want. Honored I'd be to have a famous lawman like yourself in my humble establishment."

  Adam glanced down at the hand that was still jerking his.

  The redhead let go. "The name's Barton, Goliath Barton."

  "That's kind of you, Mr. Barton." Adam brushed past him and took Jessica's arm. "Now if you wouldn't mind showing us to our room . . . The lady and I could use some rest."

  Barton flew around the desk, swiped a key off a hook, and raced for the winding, polished staircase. "Right this way, Deputy Marshal."

  "The lady will need a bath." Adam purposely didn't use her name. If Jessica was running, and after what she'd said last night, he was convinced she was, he didn't want to reveal anything she didn't want to reveal. He'd figured he'd get to the bottom of it, but all in due time.

  "You're in luck, Deputy Marshal, because Barton's Hotel sports the first running water in Pocatello. We've two windmills pumping water into some of our suites. Hot and cold for the lady's pleasure."

  Jessica's feet sank into the flowered carpet that ran down the center of the staircase. "I think I could get used to this, Deputy Marshal," she teased, taking in the surroundings. The walls were papered in more vines and flowers in multic
olored pastels. Another chandelier hung from the ceiling at the top of the staircase. "The deputy marshal will want something to eat, Mr. Barton." She looked at Adam and smirked. He pushed an elbow into her side.

  "Of course, of course," the redhead agreed as he led them down a corridor. "I'll fetch the cook and have something brought up momentarily." He slipped a key into a polished brass lock and turned the doorknob. Then, taking a lamp off the wall, he entered the room, and it filled with light. Jessica and Adam followed.

  The suite was even more elaborately decorated than the front hall and parlor. The room was done in lavender and blue pastels with pink roses everywhere. A giant four-poster bed, rose petals carved on the headboard, dominated the room.

  "This is the bathroom, ma'am. I'm sure you'll find it to your liking. Just turn the handles and you've got water at your fingertips. Flush pot, too." Barton pushed open a door off the bedroom.

  Jessica dropped her saddlebag onto a horsehair chair and a puff of dust rose and filtered into the air. Adam set his and Jessica's rifles by the door and walked to the window to close the heavy brocaded pink drapes. "Looks like a damned whore house," he muttered.

  Barton scurried to and fro, lighting lamps. "We've just opened. With the railroad expanding, there'll be more need than ever for good clean living arrangements."

  Adam walked Barton to the door while Jessica explored the bathroom. "You'll send up that meal?"

  Barton hesitated, obviously disappointed that he wasn't going to be invited to stay and chat. "Right away. Isn't there anything else I can do? Turn back the bedsheets? Start a fire?"

  "I don't think a fire will be necessary. It still must be eighty degrees out." Adam walked him into the hall. "Mr. Barton, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone we're here. I don't want to attract attention, if you understand what I mean."

  "I do, I do, you being on the trail of the Black Bandit and redskins being after you." His brown eyes went wide. "I know just what you mean."

  Adam nodded, knowing there wasn't a chance in hell the proprietor was going to keep his mouth shut. "Well, I thank you." He stepped into the suite and closed the door, leaving Barton still standing in the hall.

  Jessica was sprawled on the immense bed, surrounded by pink, ruffled, chiffon bedcovers. She giggled. "Wait until you see the running water!"

  Adam shook his head. He'd been tired, exhausted, but the sight of Jessica's creamy thighs, that impish grin on her face . . . His fingers found the buttons of his shirt and he began to undo them.

  She lifted a feathery eyebrow. "We're going to take a bath, eat, and then sleep, right?"

  His eyes were cloudy with rising desire. "Right."

  "Can you believe Barton? You're famous!" She sat up, removed her boots and woolen stockings, tossing them to the floor.

  He threw aside his shirt and sat down to shuck off his boots. "We're famous, you mean."

  Her smile fell. "We're not staying long, are we?"

  He shook his head as he skinned off his tight-fitting dungarees. "Not long. A day or two. Just enough time to scan the newspapers, check in with the railroad. Once we see if there's any word on Caine, we'll decide where to go from there."

  She nodded, watching him as he strode across the plush lavender carpet toward her. "Is this really what a whorehouse looks like? I've never been in one."

  "I wouldn't think you had, little Miss Innocent from Tennessee."

  She leaned back on the bed, tucking an arm behind her head. "Actually, I'm not from Tennessee. It's just where my father settled after the war."

  He reached the end of the bed. "Where are you from?"

  She grinned. "You'll never guess."

  He grasped her bare feet and Jessica squealed. "Where?"

  "Philadelphia." The instant it came out of her mouth she scrambled to get away, but he was too quick for her.

  "Philadelphia!" He grasped one of her ankles and dragged her slowly toward him. "That explains why you don't have a southern accent." His eyes narrowed. "You mean to tell me we were walking the same streets?"

  "I was a skinny, freckle-faced girl with skinned knees." She clawed the bedclothes, trying to hold on, but the filmy material slipped through her hands. "You wouldn't have noticed me."

  "I'd have noticed you." He held her firmly with one hand while he caressed her thigh with his other.

  "Let go of me, Adam, I'm dirty." She kicked at him.

  "I like you dirty."

  She laughed and rolled over onto her stomach, trying to crawl away. "That doesn't sound very romantic."

  He flopped onto the bed. "Romance is for dime novels. It's not real." He grasped her by the waist and flipped her onto her back, straddling her. "This is real." He brought his mouth to hers.

  Jessica ran her hands over his shoulders, bringing him closer. Her laughter died away as his kiss set her lips on fire.

  None of this made any sense. She needed Adam like she needed air to breathe, food to eat. All day they had ridden and talked. All day she had thought of what it would be like to be in his arms again, naked, flesh against flesh. They had fallen so easily into the relationship of lovers. In one day, it seemed as if they had been together a lifetime. She still didn't know if she loved him; she knew she didn't want to. She also knew their relationship couldn't last. There were Mark and Jacob to keep them apart. But for now, for today, tomorrow, maybe the next day, she would enjoy every touch, every word Adam offered. She would worry about the rest of her life later.

  "How about a bath?" Adam whispered in her ear.

  "Together?"

  "Don't look so shocked." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You bathe with me in the creeks. That was quite a bath last night."

  Her cheeks reddened. It sounded strange to hear Adam speak of their lovemaking so openly, so comfortably. "I don't know."

  He slid off the bed, encircling her wrist and hauling her after him. "Come on, sweetheart. Where's your sense of adventure?"

  "Adventure!" She stopped short. "I've had more than enough adventure with you to last me a lifetime, Mr. Deputy Marshal!"

  "All this was your idea." He waggled a finger at her. "You're the one who insisted on going after the Black Bandit."

  She grabbed his finger and bit down lightly on it. "All right. A bath." She shrugged. "What's a bath with a man after you've fought off a band of renegades!"

  "There's the spirit!" Adam caught her hand again and led her into the bathroom, whispering into her ear. "It'll be an adventure, I promise."

  Jessica laughed and closed the door behind them, shutting out the world if only for a little while.

  The following morning Adam was gone when Jessica woke. Beside her bed was a breakfast tray and a note. She rubbed her sleepy eyes.

  My heart,

  Gone to telegraph office, then newspaper.

  Stay put. Will bring you clothes.

  A

  She smiled, bringing the note to her chest. What was wrong with her? Why was she afraid to love him? The man was wonderful! As good as their lovemaking had been the other night, last night was better. Last night they had taken the time to get to know each other's bodies. She had touched Adam and been amazed by the pleasure she felt in giving him pleasure. The bath water had been warm and softly scented with honeysuckle, his touch had been . . . She sighed. It made her mouth dry and her heart pound just thinking about it.

  She pushed out of bed and put on a silky pink robe she found last night in the bathroom. Then she opened the brocade drapes, letting the sun pour in. Heavens! It was nearly noon. She went back to the bed to sit cross-legged and eat her breakfast. She lifted a linen napkin to find little potato pancakes, a bowl of baked apple slices, spiced with cinnamon, muffins, jam, and a whole pot of fragrant tea.

  She was just finishing her meal when a key slipped into the door and Adam walked in carrying a brown paper package. "You're awake."

  She smiled. He was dressed in a new red shirt and a pair of soft navy pants, his gun holster slung low on his hips. His boots had bee
n shined. His thick black hair was pulled back and tied behind his head with a strip of rawhide. His rugged handsomeness was breathtaking.

  "You shouldn't have let me sleep. I'm going to get soft with running water and a feather bed."

  He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "You were exhausted. You needed the sleep. I don't think there's much chance of you getting soft, not a famous sharpshooter like you."

  She laughed, giving him a push. "What's in the package? Something for me?"

  He brought up his hand to brush her cheek with his knuckles. What was it about this woman that made him so happy, that filled him with such a desire to care for her, to protect her? "Yes, it's for you, but the price is a kiss."

  "A kiss? You got plenty last night, and not all on your face if I recall," she dared sassily.

  He shrugged, trying to push away thoughts of their lovemaking, else they'd never get anything else done today. "Nonetheless, the price is a kiss."

  She leaned and kissed him chastely on his smooth-shaven cheek.

  "Nope. That won't do. I could get a kiss like that from my sister, if I had one."

  She tried to pull the package from his hands. "Come on, let me see."

  "It's just a dress. Pink," he told her.

  "Oh, God, you didn't. I'm suffocating in pink!"

  He pushed the package into her hands and got up.

  Jessica's fingers flew over the string, untying it, and pushing back the brown paper. "Oh, Adam, it's beautiful." She pulled out a gown of soft blue cotton sprigged with tiny green leaves. The neckline was high, but could be buttoned down. The waist was clipped and shapely, but the skirt was full for riding.

  "It's nothing fancy. They had laces and bows at the mercantile, but I didn't figure that was what you wanted."

  "It's perfect." She picked up several items of underclothing. "And underwear, too!"

  "I tried to find a pair of purple and green bloomers but they were fresh out."

  She went to reply, but spotted a tiny brown packet at the bottom of the pile of undergarments. She looked up. "What's this?"