“Practically. But we have a couple other houses, one in Cape Cod and one in the Hampshires, so we don’t have to stay in town all year round. Mother would never miss the opera season and holidays, though.”
Ellie sighed in yearning, and Shane once again seemed to know what she was thinking by reading that unspoken sound. They were in the corral now, and he stopped and looked down at her before helping her into the buggy.
“Do you ever wish you could attend the opera and season back East, Ellie?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Oh, I do love Texas and the ranch, and I would never, ever want to make my permanent home elsewhere. But it would be wonderful to see the sights of New York. Somehow, I’ve always been extremely interested in the East, and especially New York City. We have a cultural center over in Dallas where various artists perform, but Elvina has never seen fit to allow me to attend.”
“Maybe we can do that while I’m here.”
The stab of exhilaration surprised Ellie into speechlessness, and Shane scooped her into the buggy seat during that period. He walked away for a minute, and Ellie peered through the darkness, her gaze following him, his white shirt a beacon. He paused at another buggy, which she recognized as Rockford’s. Evidently, he found a piece of paper and pencil in the wallet he pulled from his pocket, because when he turned back to her, a note stuck on top of the buggy whip handle fluttered in the evening breeze.
He climbed into the ranch buggy, his weight creaking the springs, smiled at her and picked up the reins. As he guided the horse back toward town, a good half mile away, Ellie searched for something to break her tongue-tied condition. She couldn’t think of a thing to say, though, and she’d been speaking so very easily with him up until now. She nearly always found men easy to talk to, having spent more time with them than women most of her life.
She had conversed easily with Shane until he mentioned taking her to the Dallas Cultural Center. She tried to tell herself she didn’t want to bring that up again because he might change his mind. But the niggling thought that she really wanted to be with Shane Morgan again, wherever he wanted to take her, just wouldn’t be ignored.
No, she adamantly told herself, she wanted so badly to attend that she would go to the Cultural Center with anyone who would take her there. She would consider it if even by any stretch of the imagination, Cecil Bedford took it into his head that the way to regain her favor would be to escort her to a cultural function instead of the barn dances that seemed to be his main repertoire of social activities.
Well, maybe not Cecil Bedford. She avoided any further evenings with him after that first and only one ended with him heaving his dinner up on her dancing slippers in the middle of the square dance. No matter that he apologized profusely, claiming he had only drank outside to be “one of the boys.” Remembrance of the sour smell of vomit on her skirts all the way home kept her from ever giving that thwarted beau another chance.
They turned onto Main Street, and the hotel loomed part-way down the block. All at once Ellie recalled her appearance.
“Stop,” she implored Shane. “I can’t go into the hotel looking like this.”
Shane agreeably pulled the buggy over to the side of the street. Ellie frantically tried to arrange her hair, but most of the pins were gone. Unlike Darlene, who probably carried a full array of cosmetics, hairpins and other feminine necessities in her lady’s reticule, Ellie knew all she had was a few coins and a handkerchief.
With her arms raised and hair held up into a knot, she realized she had even lost her bonnet and couldn’t stuff her tresses into it.
“My bonnet,” she murmured.
“It was in the mud hole,” Shane informed her. “It looked irreparable, so I didn’t retrieve it.”
“It was new.” Ellie couldn’t keep the regret from her voice. She seldom got anything new, except at Christmas when Elvina grudgingly ordered her to buy herself a dress for church. She had saved the money for the bonnet out of the extremely scant wages she allowed herself, which had been nearly nonexistent lately. The men’s payroll took everything she could dredge up.
“I’ll get you another one, Ellie. We can go pick one out tomorrow.”
Ellie gasped and stared up at him. “I can’t let you do that! Women don’t allow men to buy them personal attire.”
“But it was partly my fault you lost it, so I’m not exactly buying you something. I’m only replacing something I was responsible for you losing.”
Whether it was his gold-dust eyes or disconcertingly deep masculine voice, he made sense to Ellie. Or maybe it was the fact that he was once again making a plan to see her yet another time.
Good diddly, she hadn’t even known Shane Morgan a few hours ago, and now she found herself pleased as punch at his open desire to see more of her while he was here.
“Look,” he said, then clicked his tongue at the horse, guiding guided it into a turn when it began to move. “There’s another way into the hotel we can use. As far as I’m concerned, it wouldn’t embarrass me to be seen with you, because it’s not your fault. It’s mine. And it’s none of the hotel help’s business what happened. But I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed, so it’s my duty to save you from that situation.”
He guided the buggy horse into an alley behind the hotel, where the two-story buildings effectively shaded most of the moon- and starlight from them. Shadowy and dark, it would have been a perfect place for lovers to hide and seek their privacy for things better kept between the two of them.
In fact, it dawned on Ellie that that might be exactly what was done when Shane stopped the buggy horse beside a rear entrance to the hotel. A set of stairs led up to the second floor rooms, and she had a fairly good idea of what they were used for. Every once in a while, her men forgot she was around, totally embarrassed when they did recall her presence. Still, she knew a few things her more innocent friends might not.
She held her tongue until Shane helped her from the buggy and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the stairwell. Then she balked.
“If anyone sees me, they’ll think I’m one of the girls from Rosie’s Place!” she said. “Isn’t this how they come visit the rooms?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Shane said with a chuckle. “I’m new to town, so I’m not sure what Rosie’s Place is.”
“I’m sure you can guess by the name.”
“Ellie,” Shane said in a resigned voice. “No one’s going to see you. You just said that everyone is at the circus.”
“What if someone’s not? I’ll die if they see me going into the hotel this way. It would have been bad enough going in the front. If someone sees me—eeeek!”
Shane had plopped his hat on her head, although how he managed to keep the hat when she’d lost her bonnet she couldn’t imagine. And he scooped her into his arms and bounded up the stairs before her shriek of surprise died. He reached the landing almost immediately, his easy breathing indicating he didn’t even notice her weight in his arms.
Indeed, he shifted her into one arm and held her effortlessly while he opened the door and strode inside. In two more strides he reached a room door and retrieved a key from his pocket. Opening it, he carried her inside and kicked the door shut with his boot heel.
The man standing at the window turned, an astonished look on his face. Briefly before Ellie buried her face in Shane’s neck and the hat slid to the floor, she realized where they were. She’d only heard about the opulent Presidential Suite of the hotel—never expected to actually see it.
“Sir?” she heard the other man say.
“Is there warm water in the wash room, Withers?” Shane asked. “Ellie’s in need of freshening up before I escort her home.”
“Is the young lady all right?” Withers asked.
“As I said, only in need of freshening up. We had an encounter with a lion and an elephant, both which we didn’t realize were friendly at first.”
“I see, sir,” Withers said as though he actually did understand
and wasn’t a bit surprised. “Well, I wasn’t sure when to expect you, so I ordered hot water just now. It should be—”
A knock sounded on the door, and Ellie clenched her arms tighter around Shane’s neck and buried her face deeper.
“Don’t let them see me,” she pleaded.
Shane chuckled and carried her onward. “We’ll be in here while you replenish the wash room, Withers.”
Another door closed behind them, and Ellie dared to lift her head. The room was dark, the curtain over the window keeping most of the streetlight from penetrating.
“Where—” Even in the darkness she made out the huge bed beside them. She started struggling. “I can’t be in here with you!”
“Shhhhh,” Shane whispered, placing a finger on her mouth. “The hotel bell boy is still out there. He’s about your age, if I remember right. I imagine you know him, and he knows you.”
“Hector,” she admitted. No, she didn’t want Hector to see her. The story would be all over town before morning.
“You could at least put me down,” she said after a moment.
Shane shrugged, his movement rubbing her breast against his chest. Then he dropped her as though she suddenly caught fire in his arms. The bedsprings creaked loudly even with her slight weight, and she knew without doubt they had been heard in the other room.
“Shane!” she gasped.
Eyes adjusting to the dimness, she saw him rub his chest. Rub right where her breast had rubbed.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just be quiet. Your friend Hector will be gone in a second.”
“He’s not my friend,” Ellie whispered, but Shane didn’t reply. He continued to stand there, and she sensed his gaze on her even though she couldn’t see his gold-dust eyes. The gaze arced between them, the gold-dust path calling to mind Fatima’s magic.
Ellie stifled a gasp when she realized she really did see the path of Shane’s gaze. And could see Fatima hovering in the air behind Shane, the huge Persian in her arms. Fatima lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers.
Chapter 5
“What?” Shane glanced over his shoulder.
Ellie stilled, waiting for his reaction to the sight of Fatima floating in the air, dressed like one of Rosie’s girls. Fatima only winked at Ellie, and the cat smiled serenely in her arms.
Instead of reacting, Shane reached beneath Fatima’s coiled legs and slid the curtain open a bit for more light, as nonchalantly as though the two of them were alone in the room. Then he pulled out a small drawer beneath the wall sconce and reached in for a match. While Ellie stared in amazement at his blatant disregard of the outlandish image in the air, he scratched the matchhead and lit the sconce. The smell of sulphur mixed with a slight hint of gas from the sconce before it flared brightly.
The sconce emitted a small stream of dark smoke, and Fatima floated a safer distance away while Shane adjusted the mantle in the center of it. Replacing the glass globe, Shane turned back to Ellie.
“There. Do you feel better now that there’s a light in here?” he asked.
With an effort, she jerked her gaze away from Fatima, but Shane stared in the same direction and frowned. Clearly, though, he didn’t see anything in the room to surprise him.
Shoot diddly! Could he be in cahoots with that woman and her cat?
Ellie glowered at Fatima, who mouthed the words, “He can’t see me, Ellie,” to her. Ellie heard every word the fairy woman spoke in her mind, but Shane obviously didn’t.
“I was beginning to gather that much,” Ellie said aloud without thinking.
“What?” Shane asked in a puzzled voice. “Are you talking to me?”
Ellie slid off the bed, straightened her skirts and tried to keep her eyes away from Fatima. “You and I are the only ones here, aren’t we?”
“I thought we were. But for a second—never mind. I’ll go check on the washroom. Please feel free to use my brush and comb there on the dresser, if you wish. I’ll send Withers down to the hotel lobby, where I saw a small shop selling necessities when I checked in. Is there anything you need besides hair pins?”
“No, that’s all.” She opened the drawstring on her reticule, which luckily had remained on her arm throughout the evening’s activities, and dug out a nickel coin. “This should buy a paper of pins.”
He started to refuse it, shrugged his large shoulders and accepted. With a nod of leavetaking, he went out the door, closing it softly behind him.
He moved awfully silently and smoothly for such a large man, Ellie mused. Even the deep carpet beneath her feet couldn’t account for the grace and silence of his stride, which she’d noticed as they walked back to the buggy a while ago.
She glared around the room, surprised, then quickly irritated at not seeing Fatima and the cat. Gosh darn it! Now what were they up to?
Resignedly, Ellie crossed to the dresser and picked up Shane’s brush. Guiltily, for she had another reason than to arrange her own scattered tresses, she glanced at the door. But the voices she heard indicated both Hector and Withers were leaving the suite.
Ellie plucked several tawny strands from the brush. She was right, she thought, running the strands through her fingers. His hair was as silky as it looked. Tawny blond in contrast to her white blond, but with lighter sun streaks indicating that even though he lived in the city, he spent time outdoors. His hair was full and thick, while hers was fine and flyaway, even with its long length.
She loved turning her hair loose when she had some privacy, galloping across the range and letting it stream behind her. Shane’s long hair would also blow nicely in the wind caused by a stallion at full gallop, since it curled down at least an inch below his collar.
“Is there anything you need that you can’t find?”
Ellie started until she realized Shane’s voice came through the closed door.
“I’m fine,” she called, eyes searching the room and still not finding Fatima. “I’ll be right out.”
For some reason she stuck the hair strands in her skirt pocket, then snorted her distaste at her action, took them out and tossed them into a tin waste receptacle beside the bed. For heaven’s sake, she had just met the man less than two hours ago. She hadn’t paid that much attention to Darlene’s rambling about the friend Rockford expected, so she had no idea how long Shane planned to stay. But he would leave when he felt like it. Return to his world of culture and refinement, while she tried to find some way to hold onto the ranch and keep a home for Darlene and Elvina.
While she tried to carve out some niche of belonging in a world where orphans had to earn their love, not be born into it.
She hurriedly tried to brush the tangles from her hair.
* * * *
Within a half hour, Ellie was ready for Shane to escort her back to the Leaning G, her hair safely secured on the back of her head. The dirt soiling her dress skirt had already set into stains, but she had brushed off the dried mud. The dress would have to be washed and the stains scrubbed before she wore it again.
They made the journey for the most part silently, except when a jackrabbit exploded wildly out of the roadside brush and startled the buggy horse. Shane’s sure hands on the reins steadied the horse before it could more than think of bolting.
He handled the horse as easily as the cowboys on the range handled theirs, Ellie mused, as though it were second nature. Most city men didn’t manage a horse nearly as confidently.
The land lying in their path—west of Fort Worth—was cattle country, rolling and undulating, fertile and with plenty of water to grow nutritious grass for the herds. Most of the time, anyway. Last summer had been dry with drought, which the old timers shook their heads and called one of the naturally occurring seven-year dry spells. More than one ranch lost cattle, and the Leaning G had been hard hit. Given the scarcity of beef now, the market would be strong this year, if Ellie encountered no more disasters when culling her remaining herd for market.
Farther west the land was drier prairie, yielding to canyons and
then a range of mountains. To the south mesquite and rock littered the hilly country. There were cattle ranches south and further west of them, but it took far more land to fatten the herds than here.
The Leaning G had once been one of the most prosperous ranches, but Ellie found unwise use of the funds when she examined the books after George Parker’s death in the cattle stampede that spring five years earlier. Harsh spring storms and tornadoes spawned by the violent weather were prominent problems in their area of the state, and George had been a cattleman to the bones. He rode the range with his men during the dangerous times of year for the herds, as well as the safe periods. And he died a cattleman’s death, endeavoring to protect his herd.
From the looks of the books, he had perhaps been more cattleman than businessman. Or perhaps been a little too much in love with Elvina to deny her anything, even at the detriment of the ranch’s profits. No doubt George would have recovered from the most recent financial drainage, as he had from other profit valleys the books indicated, had he not died.
Ellie sighed, and Shane glanced down at her. “Something sad you’re thinking of?” he asked.
“My stepfather,” Ellie admitted. “I spent lots of nights out on the range with him and the ranch hands. Mostly during roundup. Nights like this remind me of those times—clear and pure and so very Texas-like.”
“You worked along with the ranch hands?” he asked in astonishment.
“I not only did that then, I’m the one who runs the ranch now,” Ellie told him in a firm, no-nonsense voice. “Someone has to, and you’ve already met Darlene. Can you see her out on the range, helping chase cattle out of the brush or branding them? Making bulls into steers?”
Shane shook his head. “Admittedly, I can’t quite see you doing that either, but I’ll take your word for it. What about your mother?”
“Stepmother,” she corrected him. “Elvina is...well, she’s Elvina. She’s a typical Southern Belle, who always depended on her husband to take care of things and spoil her. Which George did. I can’t blame her for the way she is, because it’s the way she was raised.”
Southern Charms Page 5