He thought he heard the hint of fear in her voice. She knew Reed. Sam would bet his life on it. “He’s not my friend, but I need to find him.”
She looked around the bar, hugging herself tighter and straining the material across the back of her blouse. “Look, mister, I ain’t looking for trouble.”
Now he knew she recognized Reed’s name. She might not be the type of woman Reed liked. Too old. Too rounded. But she’d heard about the man. Maybe even seen him.
Sam scanned the room once more. A willowy girl, little more than a child, cleaned off a table in the back. She ran more to Reed’s tastes. “Mind if I ask the other barmaid ? Maybe she has a better memory.”
The woman’s hand shot out and gripped his arm, then turned away in fear when she looked into his eyes. “Don’t ask her,” she stuttered. “She don’t want to remember that man. Leave her be, mister. She ain’t done nobody no harm on this earth.”
Sam didn’t have to ask for the story; he’d heard it in other towns. Reed liked to buy the young ones for the entire night, and the next morning they were lucky if they were still alive. He might only have four fingers left on his right hand, but he could wheel a blade with the best of them.
The thin maid turned as if sensing she was being talked about. For a second her light frame reminded him of Sarah. Then Sam saw the scar that crisscrossed along her cheek.
Sam turned back to the woman who’d called herself Norma. “If I offered you money ...” he began.
“It ain’t worth the price,” she answered.
“If I told you I’m looking to kill Reed?” Sam tried again. “He’s the one who scarred your friend. I’ve seen his work before. I’d like to see that he doesn’t do it again to some other woman.”
She looked at him long and hard, sizing him up as a man. As a gunman. They both knew if she passed information along and Sam didn’t kill Reed, Reed would find out and come after her.
“Where can I find you?” Norma whispered as she leaned too close.
Now it was Sam’s turn. If he told her where he was staying, she could as easily tell Reed as let Sam know Reed was in town. The question was, did she hate Reed more than she feared him? If he’d been alone, Sam might have bet on her hatred, but he couldn’t risk Sarah’s safety on a hunch.
“I’ll be in one of the bars along this street. If you need me, leave word at the Irishman’s place three doors down.” Sam passed her twice the money she would have earned for the night. “Just let him know you’re looking for me. I’ll know why.”
She smiled down at the coins. “And who are you, mister? I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Sam,” he risked. “Just Sam.”
She looked up. “I haven’t done anything yet.” She glanced at the thin girl once more. “But I’ll help if I can.” When she turned back, she smiled her flirty grin once more. “Want to come home with me just for some fun? No extra charge.”
Sam shook his head.
“Married, are you?” She giggled. “I’ll never tell.”
Sam declined once more, not even tempted by her offer.
She shrugged. “No harm in asking. I’ve seen men like you before. Married to the core, I call them, till death do them part. Not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse.”
Sam winked at her. “I’ll let you know when this lifetime’s over.”
SEVENTEEN
SARAH AWOKE TRYING TO DECIDE WHICH PART OF her thoughts were dreams and which were realities. They’d spent the first afternoon at the hotel eating and choosing clothes she liked from the dozens brought over by two ladies who ran a small dress shop across from the hotel. She didn’t tell Sam that this was the first time in her life she had gotten new dresses never belonging to anyone else.
As soon as the ladies from the dress shop knew her size, boxes of undergarments, shoes, and hats arrived along with the freshly pressed dresses she’d selected. Sam worked on a stack of papers in the drawing room, but she knew he watched her through the open doorway.
When the third wave of boxes arrived, Sarah hurried to his side as soon as the delivery men left.
She knelt by his chair and whispered, “Stop them, Sam. ”
He offered his knee as a chair for her. “Why?”
“I can’t keep all these things. I’ve never had so much. I can’t carry everything.” Sarah plopped down on the bed and said, “When I was little, I bundled my belongings each night in case I had to move at dawn. Harriet Rainy used to say, ‘I’ve a mind to kick you out, child. You ain’t worth feeding.’ Later, when I went to live with Granny Vee, she’d always warn me that I might have to leave ‘if times got worse.’ Even Mitchell used to yell when he didn’t like the supper, ‘You’re out of here if you don’t cook a better meal next time!’ I kept trying because I didn’t have anywhere else to go if he didn’t want me.”
Sam’s big hand brushed a tear from her cheek, pushing memories aside, as well. “You can own more than you can carry, Sarah.”
“I’ve never had so much.” She leaned against his shoulder, liking the easy way she could touch him. Since he’d held her that morning, a peace had settled between them.
“Me, either,” he whispered against the top of her hair.
He lifted her off his leg and ordered her to try on everything that had been delivered. He said he planned to watch, but a knock at the door called him away.
When he returned, wrinkles crossed his forehead. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he mumbled as he grabbed his hat. “Stay here. You’ll be safe.” Then he disappeared, saying something about business to take care of without delay.
A few hours later a huge trunk arrived with a note declaring she should fill it and be ready to travel.
Sarah carefully selected each item and packed the trunk. She had no idea where his place was, so she selected warm clothes as well as cool ones. By dark everything was ready if he should return and demand they leave.
Only he didn’t return and Sarah finally dressed in one of her new nightgowns and crawled into bed. She’d wanted him to hold her once more as he had after they’d taken their baths. But twice in one day was probably too much to ask. No wonder he stayed away, she thought. She was definitely a demanding woman.
He didn’t return the next day, but meals were delivered, and the two ladies from the dress shop came to make alterations which Sarah could have done herself. She spent her time resting and eating her fill. On the afternoon of the third day she opened the windows and watched the street below. Roses arrived with her lunch along with a card from Sam. “Wait” was all it said.
By nightfall she’d remade the dress he’d bought her at Mr. Moon’s store and then fell asleep alone once more.
The next morning Sarah smiled in the dawn light, remembering falling asleep listening for the door. This strange man was becoming a part of her life even when he wasn’t around. The memory of the morning he’d held her drifted in her mind.
Her eyes adjusted to the light. As usual, Sam wasn’t beside her. He had not slept in their bed for three nights.
Pulling on her wrapper, she moved to the doorway and looked into the shadowy drawing room. Panic tiptoed along her spine. Something was different.
In the early light she noticed Sam’s reading chair placed a few feet from the hallway door. She hadn’t moved the chair there when she’d checked the lock and gone to bed.
Sarah tiptoed into the drawing room. When she rounded the chair, Sam’s form took shape in the shadowy dawn.
His muddy boots were propped next to his trunk and his arms were folded tightly over his chest.
Sarah silently moved closer and stood beside him. She reached her hand out to wake him, then realized a rifle rested across his legs and another stood within easy reach against the trunk. He hadn’t just fallen asleep in the chair; he stood guard.
Fear gripped her heart. If she touched him unexpectedly, he might counter before he recognized her. He was a man trained to kill and hadn’t stayed alive so many years by not reacting quic
kly.
She sat down on the floor next to him, watching him sleep. He couldn’t be comfortable, she mused, but how many hours had he been there waiting for trouble to come knocking?
She didn’t make a sound as dawn spread light into the room.
Finally, with a sudden jerk, he woke. He stood, checked the lock at both the door and the window, then relaxed as he set the rifle aside. He stretched, working cramped muscles.
Sarah didn’t say a word or move. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on her with her legs curled beneath her nightgown. A slow smile spread across his face. “Morning, Angel.” Sam reached down and lifted her to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” She didn’t want to waste time. She wasn’t sure how much they had left.
“Nothing,” he said, but the lie reflected in his eyes.
Sarah gripped his wrinkled shirt in frustration. She’d known the peace of the past few days could not last, but she’d hoped it might linger just a bit longer. “Sam, tell me. What’s kept you away? Have you word about Zeb Whitaker?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“All right. You need to know.” He nodded toward a chair, but she didn’t sit down. “I think Reed and his men rode into town last night. I make it my business to know an outlaw’s habits. Reed likes to visit houses of...” He hesitated, choosing his words. “... a group of ladies when he’s in town. I got word a few days ago that he’s worn his welcome out in Fort Worth, so I guessed he’d move on to look for his entertainment in the alley bars of Dallas. His needs are such that not every place can satisfy him, so it’s relatively easy to guess where he’ll go. I’ve spent the past few days stopping by and offering a few dollars for information.”
Worry replaced anger in Sarah’s veins. “What else? I need to know the rest.”
“One of the women who offered to help me watch for Reed disappeared last night. Her boss said it wasn’t unusual for her to vanish for a few days, but it worries me. I had no way of tracking her down, but I felt a need to keep an eye on the other women who said they knew Reed. I waited until the saloon closed last night before I headed back here.”
Sam touched her hair, then watched a loose strand curl around his finger. “I’d planned to return sooner, but thought you might be safer alone.” He sighed. “I tried to send word so you’d know I was near.”
“I felt you were close,” she admitted. “I knew you hadn’t just left me.”
Sam walked over and pulled a rope in the corner of the room. “They’ll bring breakfast up,” he said. “I don’t think it would be safe for us to go out together. Folks might not notice me milling around, but they’re bound to remember a beauty like you.”
Sarah shook her head. “No one has ever noticed me except you, Sam. I’m just a pale—”
“Stop.” He faced her. “Stop believing a lie.”
She met his stare. “You’re blind,” she answered, suddenly angry that he would keep claiming she was something she knew she wasn’t.
“Then let me stay blind, Sarah.” He pulled her to him. “You are the closest I’ll probably get to heaven.”
He held her tightly for a long while, as if he was unsure what to do with her. Slowly her body softened and she molded to him.
He smiled. There was no need for words. They both knew this nearness was what they wanted. What they needed.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and felt his sharp intake of air.
“You’re hurt,” she tried to pull away.
He didn’t loosen his grip. “It’s nothing. I was just backing up a young deputy last night in a street fight.”
“Sam Gatlin, you can not even leave me for a few days without getting yourself hurt. I swear to goodness, how did you manage to stay alive without me near?”
Sam laughed. “I’m not sure I was alive. Before you, I didn’t have anything to worry about. I didn’t have anything to protect.”
“You didn’t have anyone who cared if you lived or died.”
“And do you care?”
“Of course I care, Sam, you’re my husband. I’m supposed to care.”
Sam’s arms dropped to his sides. “I almost forgot. The rules.”
She felt him go even though he hadn’t taken a step away from her. “What makes you so mad when I say that?”
He plowed his fingers through hair that was already disheveled from sleep. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want you to care if I live or die for some other reason than it’s a rule the wife is supposed to abide by.”
“I told you I didn’t want to care about a man who’s got the life span of a moth.” She wanted to tell him that every time she even thought about caring for someone they up and died on her or kicked her out without a thought. She was sick to the core of trying to care. Couldn’t he understand that? Surely he didn’t think he got undying love for the price of bail.
Sam picked up his Colt and checked to make sure the chamber was full. “You’re right, Sarah. I may not live out the winter, but one thing I promise you, I’ll get you settled somewhere safe before I wander off and get myself killed. You deserve that much for marrying me.”
His smile never reached his eyes when he added, “I have a feeling my luck can’t hold much longer. When it goes, at least I’ll have the best-looking widow this state has ever seen.”
“What do you mean, your luck can’t hold? Do you call getting stabbed, shot at, and beat up lucky?”
“No.” He laughed. “I call lucky finding you.”
He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, then laughed when she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him there.
When he finally broke free, he whispered, “I take it you have no objection to my kiss this morning?” His hands circled her waist and lifted her off her feet so that she was eye level with him.
“No,” she answered when he lifted her higher so he could kiss her throat. “I’ve no objection. In fact, I’d like to be held for a while, if you don’t mind. I like the way you make me feel.”
“Are you saying you missed me?”
Sarah looked down at him. “I missed your touch. Please hold me again, Sam.”
“You’re a demanding wife,” he mumbled as he kissed her. “But dear God, how I missed you.”
“It’s not that I’m demanding. I’ve been waiting for a long time.”
“Then kiss me back,” he ordered, “and I’ll do as you ask.”
She placed her mouth on his as he lowered her level to him.
As before, the kiss grew bolder. He explored her mouth and taught her to respond. Fire melted down her body, making her ache to be closer. She starved for a feeling she never knew existed. A hunger to be near him. A longing to give him as much pleasure as he gave her.
She dug her fingers into his hair and held on as desire stampeded across her senses.
His hand slid into the collar of her nightgown and pulled several buttons free. As his mouth moved lower down her throat, she fought to remember to breathe.
“I’ve been thinking about you, Angel.” His words touched the hollow of her throat. “Thinking of kissing you like this.” His mouth moved against her as he spoke. “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I missed the taste of you as dearly as a man dying of thirst misses water.”
She leaned her head back as he pulled another button free.
The last time he touched her had been slow and gentle; now there was a hunger in his kiss that made her pulse race.
He lowered her on the settee, leaning her over his arm so that her back arched as he knelt beside her. With another tug, several more buttons gave way and his mouth moved lower.
Gasping for air, the rise and fall of her breasts moved against the sides of his face as he continued to taste her flesh. The stubble of Sam’s beard rubbed against the inside of each mound, contrasting with the softness of his lips and tongue. The cotton gown barely covered her, leaving her rounded flesh exposed.
It was only a matter of time before his mouth found the soft sk
in and gently kissed each in turn.
“I’m so hungry,” he mumbled. “So hungry for you, Sarah.”
When he raised to her lips, her mouth was already open. She trembled beneath him. Without breaking the kiss, he pressed his hand over her waist and tenderly stroked her. His fingertips moved along her waist, then slid to the small of her back, journeying downward to cup her hip in his large hand.
His hand returned to her back. “I missed the feel of you. Not some woman, or just a wife, but you, Sarah. You.”
The second time his hand ventured down, his touch was bolder, feeling fully of the supple body beneath her gown.
She welcomed the warmth of his hand spreading across her, loving the way he suddenly needed her.
As he became familiar with the curves of her body, she reveled in his caress. She rolled to her back and let him stroke her, needing the fire of his embrace over more of her flesh. When he twisted her back to face him so he could kiss her once more, there was an urgency in both his kiss and his touch.
Sam stared down at her with smoky desire reflecting in his dark eyes. “Open your nightgown, Sarah. Let me see you.”
With shaking hands, she pulled the gown down to her waist and pressed her eyes closed as tightly as she could.
“Sarah, look at me.”
She didn’t move.
“Sarah, did Mitchell ever see you like this?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Then look at me.”
She wanted him to know that she might be shy, but what they now did would never be an embarrassment to her. “He never asked. I never wanted to show him.” She fought the need to tell Sam that Mitchell had never seen her as anything but useful.
As their eyes locked, she realized the beauty of herself reflected in his eyes. He couldn’t have pretended. In some small way, and maybe only to this one man, she was beautiful. She truly was.
“Touch me, Sam,” she whispered, longing for the feel of his hands on her flesh.
His caress moved along her shoulder.
“No.” She laughed. “Touch me.”
Jodi Thomas Page 16