In the Arms of a Cowboy

by Pam Crooks

  “You must be Miss Lamont?” His eyes twinkled.

  “Oh, my.” A bit taken aback, Belle glanced at Carleigh, a wide-eyed look that said, It’s been a long time since anyone has called me ‘miss.’ She inclined her head with an air of grace that, though perhaps long-buried, now seemed to come natural to her. “Yes, but please call me Belle.”

  “I’ll do that”--he smiled--“Belle.”

  He was quite kind, and Carleigh found herself liking him on the spot, if for no other reason than he treated her mother with respect. Trig and Pierre joined them, and introductions were made. Even Spencer was included, once she freed him from the sarong.

  “My steward has prepared breakfast,” Rooney said. “Please come down to my quarters. Explanations are in order.”

  He led them past the curious stares of his crew to the lowest deck. In his cabin, a table had been laid out with platters of steaming eggs, ham and bacon, fruit cups and plenty of hot coffee. Trig assisted Carleigh into her chair, then did the same with Belle. Pierre sat on her right, while the captain took the head of the table.

  “Well, now,” Rooney said, picking up his fork. His expression turned serious. “Gif assured me you’d all have good reason for needing the Liberty under these unorthodox circumstances. Who would like to begin from the beginning?”

  “Unorthodox, yes,” Trig said. “How is it that you agreed at all?”

  “I’ve worked with the U. S. Customs Service many times in the past. The Collector of any port has the authority to call upon the Army, Navy or Militia to assist in the collection of duties if he is unable to do so under ordinary means.” He smiled, though no humor reached his eyes this time. “The Liberty is a Navy warship, Trig. Gif assured me, by the time you reached San Francisco, you may need my assistance in the collection of said duties.”

  “We can only hope.” Trig’s expression was as serious as Rooney’s. “Have you heard of a bay called ‘Taku’?”

  The captain frowned. “Can’t say that I have. What is its location?”

  “Near San Francisco is all we know.” Trig explained the intelligence Belle learned while at Belén, the intricate smuggling ring and the large amount of opium expected to arrive on the streets.

  “There’s a hundred miles of rocky coast near San Francisco. It’ll be difficult to find the passage without more information,” Rooney said, skeptical.

  “I suspect ‘Taku’ is a code word,” Trig said. “Used to keep the bay secret.”

  “And all the more difficult to find.”

  Trig lapsed into a troubled silence.

  Belle and Pierre exchanged a somber glance.

  And Carleigh’s head spun. No longer hungry, she pushed her plate away.

  Opium smuggling. Navy warship. A code word and a secret bay.

  How would it all end?

  Belle and Carleigh had been inseparable the entire day. They talked for hours of the past, of the future, their faces pressed to the wind as they stood at the Liberty’s rail, their gazes pensive at the wide expanse of ocean and blue sky. Something Carleigh had always taken for granted, but which had been denied to Belle for so long.

  Seeing her then, cheeks flushed, eyes alive, hair curling around her face from the salty air, showed Carleigh what a beautiful woman she’d once been. And what she would soon be again, in her new life.

  If her new life happened, that is.

  The risks and repercussions from kidnapping her right out from under Esteban’s nose had yet to catch up with them. For now, they were safe on the Liberty and under Captain Rooney’s protection. Once they touched on California soil, the law wouldn’t be so forgiving.

  Nor would Papa.

  Besides, what of Taku? What secrets did the mysterious bay hold if they found it?

  What if they didn’t?

  With the thoughts tussling inside her head, she tossed and turned into the early morning hours while the rest of the ship--with the exception of the crew on watch—slept, and her troubles left her feeling disgruntled and out of sorts.

  Very out of sorts.

  She rolled over onto her side on the narrow bunk, tugged the wool blanket higher over her shoulder and sighed. Finding no comfort that way, she rolled over again, punched the pillow and yanked once more on the blanket, this time hard enough the bottom edge pulled free from the mattress.

  She sat up in exasperation to fix it.

  “What’s wrong, Carleigh?” From the opposite bunk, Belle raised up on an elbow.

  “There’s far too much to think about, I’m afraid.”

  Her mother made a sound of understanding. “There is, isn’t there?”

  She reached over to turn on the lamp. Beside her, Spencer stirred and stretched.

  Carleigh’s mouth curved downward.

  “You shouldn’t let him crawl into bed with you,” she said, eying her dog. “He knows his place is on the floor.”

  “When he’s in his own home and on the cushion he’s accustomed to.” Her mother slipped from the bunk and cooed, petting him as she went.

  “You’re spoiling him, too,” Carleigh said, even though she knew Belle was right. Other than their time at the Hotel Brewster, they hadn’t slept in the same place twice since they’d left San Francisco. Little wonder Spencer had strayed far from his normal routine.

  “He’s too sweet not to be spoiled.” She padded barefoot over to Carleigh’s bunk, and Carleigh made room for her on the mattress. As if of the same mind, they both sat cross-legged, facing the other. “And my, aren’t we crabby tonight.”

  “I’m sorry.” Genuine regret swept through her. She was rarely so shrewish when it came to her dog. And most other things as well. “I don’t mean to be.”

  “I know you don’t.”

  Like Carleigh, Belle wore only her chemise, a plain-looking thing given to her by the penitentiary. Beneath the fabric, her breasts were rounded and full, her body slender. Though the years had added strands of gray, her cinnamon-shaded hair was as shiny and thick as Carleigh’s, and tumbled in wild profusion over her back.

  Is that what appealed to Papa when he first met her? Her body? Her hair? Her gentleness and understanding?

  Or had his lust looked beyond all that?

  Carleigh would probably never know. Perhaps it didn’t even matter. But as her heart opened and filled with a fresh new love for Belle with every hour she spent with her, the chasm of pain from Papa’s betrayal deepened.

  Spencer bounded from the opposite bunk and hopped onto hers, and Carleigh settled him between them. Belle stroked his back, and it wasn’t long before he was sleeping again.

  “He likes you,” Carleigh said, trying not to think of Papa and how long it must have been since her mother had a pet of her own.

  “He’s delightful. I enjoy him.”

  “Trig likes you, too.”

  Belle drew back and cocked her head, her expression shrewd. “Ah, Trig. He’s quite the man, isn’t he?”

  Carleigh thought of him, sharing the cabin next to them with Pierre. He’d be alone in his bunk.

  Without her.

  Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

  “I do believe that’s the understatement of the day,” she murmured.

  Her mother’s soft laughter filled the tiny cabin. “You’re attracted to him, then.”

  “What woman could stop herself?” Carleigh said, not finding the amusement in her situation that she did.

  “Are you in love with him?” Belle asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Hmmm. You do stare at him a lot.” Her eyes glittered with a teasing light. “It’s a wonderful thing to be in love. Don’t look so apologetic about it.”

  “But it’s hopeless. Of all the men who have courted me, why does it have to be him?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because once we get back to San Francisco, everything will turn for the worse. He’s so full of contempt for Papa, and so determined to bring him to justice, that it scares me.”

 
; “As well it should. Your father deserves to be brought to justice,” Belle said.

  “But he’s my father!”

  “And I’m your mother. Have you forgotten what he’s done to us?”

  Carleigh drew back as if she’d been slapped. Instant tears sprang to her eyes. “No, of course not. I would never forget that. Not ever! It’s just that he’s my father, and while I should hate him, I don’t. Not really. Well, sometimes I do. But he--.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God. I’m so confused.”

  “Carleigh, look at me.” Gently, Belle tugged her hands back down again. “I don’t know what will happen when we get back to San Francisco, but you must understand it won’t be pleasant. And of anything, anything, I regret you being caught between your father and me. You’ve done nothing to deserve any of this.”

  “And what of you? You haven’t done anything but get pregnant with his child!”

  Belle shrugged sadly. “It’s the way of life sometimes. But I have found you again.” She reached out to stroke Carleigh’s cheek. “And what a gift you are.”

  Carleigh battled the ball of emotion clogging her throat. Tears spilled from her cheeks. “I never dreamed I would have you. You are my gift, as well.”

  At her words, tears began to stream from her mother’s eyes, too. From the moment Carleigh had first seen her in Esteban’s prison, never once had she cried.

  “Oh, my. Look at us. Crying rivers,” Belle said, scrubbing at the moisture on her face. “I have this huge desire to hug you, but I know it’s much too soon. You don’t really know me yet, and--.”

  “Hush.” Carleigh pressed a finger to her mother’s lips. “You can on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I hug you first.”

  Belle broke into a curious mix of weeping and laughter all over again as Carleigh wrapped her arms around her. Belle held her tight, a fierce embrace that only a mother denied her child would give.

  “So many times I’ve thought of holding you,” she said, her voice muffled in Carleigh’s hair. “I wanted to rock you to sleep and sing you songs. I’ve had dreams of pushing you in a swing and showing you your first butterfly. I would’ve sold my soul to be able to dress you in lace and ribbons and party dresses.”

  “But Papa denied us.”

  “Yes.” She drew back. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. He’s upsetting to both of us.” She drew in a deep breath, let it out again. “What are you going to do about Trig?”

  “Trig?”

  “Tell me about him. Have you known him long?”

  “I only first saw him when he found me in Visalia. He gave me his room when there was none other in town.”

  “Really. How gallant of him.”

  Carleigh rolled her eyes. “He had an ulterior motive. Believe me.”

  Belle’s brow lifted. “He bedded you?”

  Carleigh hesitated, but if she couldn’t talk about such intimacies with a woman of Belle’s past, who could she talk about them with? “It wasn’t something either of us planned. And I was quite devastated by it afterward.”

  “He was the first, then.”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Carleigh.” Belle took her hand. “If I could’ve lived my life differently, I would’ve saved myself for one man. There’s a great deal of honor in that.” Her mouth turned into a rueful curve. “Strange to hear from a woman who’s been a nymph du pave most of her life, isn’t it?”

  “But it was quite unlike me to fall into bed with him like I did. I have principles. Truly I do. I simply abandoned them with him that night.”

  Belle smiled in understanding. “You made a choice to make love to him. Don’t regret it. The feelings you have for him is what makes sex special. I’ve had far less than that in my life.” She shrugged. “Just remember that whatever happens with Trig when you return to San Francisco, you’re an independent woman now. And independent women make their own choices.” Belle pressed a kiss to Carleigh’s forehead. “Now, enough talking for now. It’s late. We must try to sleep.”

  She slipped from the bunk, taking Spencer with her. Carleigh smiled and watched her snuggle with him on her own.

  She reached over and doused the lamp. The cabin fell once more into darkness. She laid back and pulled the wool blanket over her.

  Belle’s honesty and wisdom moved her deeply. They gave her comfort. And she would need their truth when Trig made his revenge on Papa.

  Chapter 18

  Trig thought Carleigh would never come out of her cabin.

  He waited outside the quarters she shared with her mother. Missing her. Wanting, needing, to see her again.

  To hold her.

  Time was running out. They’d traveled north up the California coast at good speed the past twenty-four hours; the Liberty would reach San Francisco soon. Then, everything would change. His world would come crashing in.

  A world without Carleigh. He’d nearly fulfilled his obligation to her father, and the judge would be furious to learn she’d met with Belle after all, had gone so far as to bring her back to San Francisco.

  If it was the last thing he did, Trig would find the evidence he needed to convict her father for his crimes. Finally Nathaniel’s death would be avenged.

  Ripples of panic went through Trig, as it always did when he thought of it. She would hate him. She’d shut him out of her life forever. And he wouldn’t blame her.

  If Seth Mathison suffered while he’d been gone, if Chandler backed out on his promise to keep him safe while Trig headed to Mexico after Carleigh . . ..

  He’d kill him.

  She’d hate him for that, too.

  There was so little time left. Belle had taken seasick when a wind came up just before dawn. The rough waters and sway of the Liberty upended her stomach time and time again, and Carleigh rarely left her side.

  But Pierre had gone in to take a turn sitting with Belle. Carleigh should be coming out any minute and until she did, he intended to remain right where he was.

  Waiting for her.

  At last, the door opened, and Carleigh slipped through. She pulled it closed again carefully, her actions intent on not making a sound.

  His spirits soared, just looking at her.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said.

  She jumped, and her gaze flew to him. He half-expected her to scold him for startling her. Instead, she smiled.

  “Trig.”

  His name sounded sultry rolling off her tongue. Provocative, and his loins roared hot.

  God, he wanted her.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice sounding rougher than he intended.

  “How long have you been waiting for me?” she asked, walking toward him.

  She slipped into his outstretched arms, and he took her hard against him without bothering to reply. Her open mouth met his, as if she didn’t really expect him to answer, or maybe she didn’t care if he did.

  He tasted her morning coffee. And her desire. His arms tightened, crushing her to him, revealing in his embrace his complete, uninhibited need for her.

  She melted into him. His lust raged. His lips dragged over her cheek, her jaw. He breathed in deep of her scent.

  “Last night was the first time we’ve been apart--” he muttered against her mouth.

  “—since Visalia. I know. I missed you.”

  His fingers speared into her hair. “I missed you, too. You don’t know how much.”

  “Oh, but I do.” Her breathing quickened, her lust matching his. “The bunk was hard, and I got cold. I kept thinking of you. Of us. I could barely sleep without you.”

  He kissed her again. How would he give her back to Judge Chandler? How would he go on living without her?

  “We can go to my cabin,” he said, breathing hard, the desperation from the time spiraling away building inside him. “Pierre will stay with your mother. We’ll be alone--.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  He bent to slip an arm behind her knees, to
sweep her up into his arms and carry her away, but the ship’s sudden lurch sent them both tumbling to the deck.

  “Jesus. What was that?” Trig said, getting up again. He helped Carleigh to her feet and kept a protective hold on her. He glanced upward, to the rushing footfalls above them.

  “We’ve hit something,” she said, horrified.

  “All hands on deck! All hands on deck!” Captain Rooney roared the command from above. “Batten the hatches!”

  She lifted her skirts and darted toward the stairs.

  “No, Carleigh!” Trig shouted, running after her. “Stay here.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  He bolted after her with a mighty oath. They burst onto the deck as the crew scrambled to obey their captain’s orders.

  Rooney hastened toward them.

  “What is it?” Carleigh asked, feet spread to brace herself against the lurching ship. “What’s happening?”

  “We’ve bumped into a reef. We’ve no choice but to continue forward. It won’t be easy.”

  Carleigh hurried to the rail and stared out into the dark wall of churning waters ahead. She paled. “The surf could capsize us!”

  “It could. But the Liberty is strong. She’s survived worse than this. She’ll make it through.”

  Several of the crew scurried to pass ropes across the deck rail to rail--life-lines the men would hang on to should the Liberty take on water. In the coming moments, it would be every man for himself.

  “There’s no one at the wheel, Trig.” Wide-eyed, Carleigh pointed aft. “The quartermaster. Where is he?”

  Keeping one hand on the bulwark’s rail for support, she half-ran, half-staggered toward the glass-windowed wheelhouse, Trig on her heels. They found the man with an angry gash across his forehead; he was knocked cold and crumpled on the floor.

  “He must have fallen when the ship hit the reef,” Trig said.

  He searched for the captain and found him shouting orders to his men, too far away to hear Trig’s call. Pierre had joined them, leaving Belle in her cabin, and was lending his hand to trimming the mammoth mainsail. With the crew working hard to secure the ship for rough waters, they didn’t notice no one had control of it.