by Paty Jager
Chapter 25
Rachel stepped off the train at the Baker City depot and waited for Clay to descend the steps. The area rivaled the Salem station in activity and size. Wagons surrounded the two-story lapped-sided building with a wrap-around balcony. Her gaze drifted up to the ornate cornices in the peak.
Passengers and freight crowded the narrow board platform. Rachel wrapped her arm around Clay’s, hugging him close as she scanned the people for either a man who resembled Clay or the pointy-nosed man she believed to be following them.
They stepped off the platform and stood in the dirt between two sets of tracks. A large, three-story hotel sat to the left of the street dead ending at the railroad depot.
Rachel craned her neck, to see through the people and wagons leaving the station, for anyone still standing or walking their direction. “I don’t see anyone who looks like you.”
“Maybe he didn’t get the telegram.” Clay cupped her elbow. “Take me to the baggage claim. We’ll have our bags delivered to the Crabill Hotel.”
“What about Hank?” She didn’t mind spending more time with Clay alone, but she didn’t want to miss their escort to Sumpter.
“If he doesn’t show by noon tomorrow, we’ll set out for Sumpter.”
Rachel stopped. “How will we get to Sumpter? You can’t see and I don’t know the way.”
“There’s a road from here to Sumpter. When we rent a buggy they can direct you to the road. Then we’ll get someone in Sumpter to take us to the stamp mill.”
Clay tugged on her arm. She resumed walking. Nothing daunted this man. One of the reasons he’d become special to her.
Two valises and her trunk sat on the dock by the baggage car. She smiled at the attendant dressed in the same uniform as the porters on the train.
“Would you please have these delivered to the Crabill Hotel for Mr. Clay Halsey?”
Clay pulled a coin out of his pocket. He held it up and the attendant took it.
“Yes, ma’am.” The attendant smiled, pocketed the coin, and whistled to a boy leaning against the station on the shady side of the building.
Rachel tucked her hand in the crook of Clay’s elbow and they walked toward the buildings. She scanned the street, taking in the well-dressed people and neatly presented store fronts. The atmosphere resembled home. The variety of shops and large buildings rivaled those she grew up frequenting.
“I didn’t realize Baker City was—a city.”
“It’s the largest town on this side of the Blue Mountains. It started as a stop for the emigrants traveling to Oregon City and grew after gold was discovered in Auburn.”
The impressive hotel was only a short stroll from the train depot.
“We’re here”, she said, stepping under the roof extending the length of the building.
Clay pulled her to the side. “Before we go in, I’d like to find out your feeling so I don’t make an idiot of myself.”
Her heart raced. Would he get one room to share? It wasn’t proper, but she wanted to explore what he’d opened up to her last night. And this time, having her doctor bag available, she’d be prepared.
“Do you want to share a room or do you want separate rooms?”
The uncertainty ringing in his voice settled her jumbled nerves. “I want to spend the night in your arms.”
The wrinkles in his brow flattened and a smile deepened his dimple. “I don’t think I could have slept knowing you were in a room down the hall.”
She stepped away from the wall, drawing Clay with her, and stopped at the threshold of the hotel.
“We’re here.”
Clay reached out, captured the door handle, and moved her forward with a hand at her back. She entered an elongated lobby. She skirted a long table covered in newspapers spanning the middle of the area and they made their way to the registration desk in the back of the room. A tall thin man sporting a bushy mustache stood behind the desk.
“May I help you?” His deep warm voice was followed by a smile.
Clay stepped up to the counter, keeping one arm around Rachel’s waist. “My wife and I would like a room for the night. One not too far from a water closet and bath.”
“We have just a room.” The clerk swung the large ledger toward Clay. Rachel dipped the quill in the ink and signed them in as Mr. and Mrs. Clay Halsey. Flutters of excitement rippled her skin. How long before she could sign everything in this manner?
The clerk glanced from her to Clay and down at the ledger. “Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Halsey.” He plucked a key from a small cubicle behind him. “You’ll be in room two-twenty.”
“Thank you. Our baggage should be arriving from the station soon. Please send it up.” Clay twined his fingers with hers and she led him to the wide staircase along the wall on the right side of the lobby. The scent of food rumbled her stomach.
“We’ll wait for our luggage to arrive, and you can freshen up. Then we’ll come back down and enjoy a leisurely meal.”
“Stairs,” she said quietly.
Clay put out his hand, grasped the railing, and walked up the stairs beside her, smooth as a sighted person.
“Last one,” she said at the top and led him down the hall to their room. She twisted the glass cut knob and entered a cozy room.
Rachel led Clay to an upholstered arm chair, one of two beside a small side table. The bed boasted a colorful quilt and plump pillows. A small washstand with a pitcher and bowl stood in one corner, a gilded mirror hung on the wall above.
“The room is lovely.” She took off her hat and poured water in the basin.
Clay rubbed his two day stubble. “Would you rather bathe in a tub?”
“That would be heavenly.” She sighed. She wasn’t priggish, yet, wearing and sleeping in the same clothes for two days left her feeling unkempt.
A knock on the door startled her.
“That should be our bags.” Clay said, standing. “I’ll get it.” He walked to the door and opened it.
Rachel kept her scarred face averted from the door. The boy from the station entered. He set the valises on the floor by the end of the bed and pulled in the trunk.
Clay drew a coin from his pocket and handed it to the youth. “Thank you. Please ask at the desk to send up hot water for a bath.”
The boy tipped his hat and departed. Closing the door, Clay faced her. “Find the clean things you want to put on and we’ll find that washroom.”
Rachel placed her valise on the bed and began rummaging through it for clean clothes. Clay crossed the room, fumbled with the handle of his bag, and did the same.
Commotion in the hallway stilled her hands. She listened.
“They’re packing the water to the washroom. Ready?” he asked, his hand poised on the doorknob.
“Yes.” Her heart raced. Would he sit in the room as she bathed? The thought of his presence even though he couldn’t see raised the heat in her body.
She took his arm and Clay escorted her out of the room.
They walked to an open door. A Chinese man walked out carrying two buckets. He bowed his head and continued on. She stepped into the room. A tin tub in the middle took up most of the floor space. One chair sat in a corner and a shelf held folded towels.
Clay bumped into her back. “Is there something wrong?”
“There isn’t much room.” She stepped to the hooks on the wall and hung her garments on one hook.
“In the tub?” He stepped in the room, closed the door, and ran his hand over the frame, slipping the hook in the eyelet to fasten the door shut.
“No, the tub is large. The room—”
He stepped toward her, grinning. “If the tub is large, then we shouldn’t have any problems.”
Their bodies brushed as his fingers sought the hooks and he hung his clothes. He leaned into her.
Her breathing accelerated. Her heart thrummed against her ribs. His nearness heightened her senses. He slipped the jacket down his arms, releasing his musky scent into the air. His heat penetrated he
r clothing.
“Are you bathing in your clothes?” He unbuttoned his shirt. The dark curly hair scattered across his chest beckoned to be touched. She raised a hand, sifting her fingers through the silky curls. Her palm tingled.
Rachel helped him remove his shirt and began unbuttoning the fly on his trousers. He didn’t stop her as she pushed his trousers and drawers down his body. He was already hard and quivering.
She gently pushed Clay down onto the chair and unlaced his boots. His hands wound in her hair. She removed his boots, socks, and garments. He leaned back in the chair, a dimpled smile lighting his face. What a glorious sight!
Rachel reached out to take him in her hands. At the first caress, he stopped her.
“Your turn.”
He stood and his hands worked at unbuttoning her dress. His lips trailed wet kisses down her neck to the top of her chemise and corset. He nudged the dress down her arms and into a pool around her feet. Her petticoats followed. The corset loosened and soon dropped to her feet as well. He untied the ribbon on her chemise. She shivered as his fingers glided over the tops of her breasts as he slowly maneuvered the garment down her body.
“Sit.”
She stepped out of the ring of garments and sat on the chair. Clay knelt at her feet and removed her shoes and stockings. He reached for her hand and drew her to her feet. Pressing his body to hers, he slid his hands down her sides, waist, hips, thighs, and legs, removing her drawers. She stood before him completely naked, not feeling the least bit intimidated or dirty.
“Let’s get in the water before it goes cold.”
Rachel led him to the side of the tub. He stepped in, sat down, and leaned back, opening his arms in invitation.
A giggle escaped as she stepped into the tub and settled her backside between the vee of his legs.
Clay wrapped his arms around Rachel, drawing her against his chest. He’d told himself they would only bathe. His control slowly unraveled as he held her and experienced her boldness. He wanted her. Only a fire in the building could keep him from taking her before they made it back to the room.
“Where’s the soap?” His hoarse voice didn’t sound like him.
A slippery bar slid into his hand.
“Slide forward. I’ll wash your hair.” Her body slid down his. Her head settled in his cupped hand. Wetting her hair, he lathered the tresses, massaged her scalp, and memorized the contours of her small skull. He rinsed the soap from her hair and drew her to sit in front of him.
Clay lathered his hands and spread the soap down her neck, over her small shoulders, around to her handful breasts, and down her flat stomach. With each inch of her smooth flesh he touched, his desire for her grew tenfold. Her head tipped back and rested on his shoulder. He kissed her cheek, and her lips sought his.
She slipped her tongue between his lips and seduced him. His pulsing shaft ached as it pushed against her backside. She spun, circled her arms around his neck, and pressed the full length of her body to his.
He groaned. “Don’t. This isn’t the place…”
Rachel rubbed up and down his length, her breath coming in shallow pants.
Pounding on the door echoed through the room. “Clay? Clay, you in there?”
“Damn.” He held Rachel tight. “Yeah, Hank.”
“Get dressed. I’ll meet you in the restaurant.”
Rachel shook, and lilting giggles erupted from her.
“Shh… You want him to hear you?” Clay grinned at the absurdity of the situation.
“If he knew you were in here, he knows we signed in as Mr. and Mrs. He has to be curious where I am.” She pushed against his chest and knelt between his legs. “Want me to wash you up quick?”
“Just my hair.” He leaned forward. She poured water over his head and massaged his scalp. The passion of the moment dissolved, but he’d rekindle it later tonight in bed.
She rinsed his hair, and the water lowered around him as she stepped from the tub. He stood and stepped out onto a braided rug. Before he asked for a towel, one moved down his body, starting at his hair, lingering in his groin area, and moving on down his legs.
“I can return the favor,” he said reaching out and grasping the towel.
“I’ve already dried.”
Her smug tone brought a smile to his lips, and he grabbed her. “You might have missed a spot.” He started at her head and worked his way down, kissing her soft skin.
She sighed and wound her arms around his neck, dragging his lips to hers. He liked this passionate take charge woman. He couldn’t wait to discover more of her in a real bed.
He gently nudged her away. “We need to get dressed, or Hank’ll come back up here.”
Chapter 26
Rachel tugged on the veil of her hat two steps into the restaurant. Clay didn’t give her time to apply her makeup. His insistence her scar didn’t matter irked her. He didn’t witness the stares and expressions of pity and horror.
A man at a far table stood. He had curlier hair, a more pronounced chin, and a straight nose. Otherwise, he could have been Clay’s twin.
He stared at her before his eyes narrowed. What had she done to deserve a scowl? She’d yet to meet him.
She led Clay to his brother.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Clay.” Hank stepped forward and hugged his brother. She knew they were close, but hadn’t expected this show of affection in public.
“Hank, I’d like you to meet Dr. Rachel Tarkiel. She escorted me home and is thinking of hanging around and seeing what kind of a medical practice she can start here.”
Clay’s infectious grin curved her lips into a smile. She held out her hand to Hank. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet one of the infamous Halsey brothers.”
Hank’s brow rose, and Clay laughed.
“Infamous?” Hank peered at her. He was close enough his gaze scanned her face, settled briefly on her scar, and returned to her eyes.
“You and your brothers are all he talks about.” She resisted the urge to fiddle with the curls at the side of her face. Clay placed a hand over hers on his crooked elbow. Did he sense her agitation?
“I don’t see how you could miss us with this pretty doctor taking care of you.” Hank’s gaze traveled the length of her, and he scrutinized his brother as well.
“Heck, I didn’t miss you.” Clay squeezed her hand. “I wanted to persuade Rachel to come with me. I had to paint you as civilized.”
Her stomach rumbled. Clay and Hank both moved at once. Hank held out a chair, and Clay stepped forward.
She placed Clay’s hand on the back of the chair. Hank stepped aside, and Clay seated her before moving to the chair beside her.
Hank took a seat across the table, watching them closely. “I already ordered.”
Rachel took a sip of water.
“Good, we’re starving. We only had something from the buffet car this morning.” Clay leaned back in his chair.
Hank glanced from her to Clay and back to her. “So you going to tell me what’s going on here?”
Rachel shrugged, not sure what Clay wanted to tell his brother.
“The register said Mr. and Mrs. Clay Halsey, yet you just introduced her as Dr. Tarkiel.”
“We aren’t married. We’re still working out the details.” Clay squeezed her hand again.
“Are you really a doctor?” Hank narrowed his eyes and darted his gaze between her and Clay.
“Yes, I have my diploma and the results of my boards if you would like to see them.”
“Rachel was the doctor for the Blind School. She wanted something more challenging, and I offered her a chance to come out here and be the doctor for the Sumpter area.” Clay stared determinedly toward his brother.
“Where’s she staying?” Hank leaned back as the waiter delivered plates piled high with roast beef, potatoes, and boiled carrots.
“At the office until we find a house in Sumpter that will work.”
Rachel spun Clay’s plate. “Meat at six, potatoes
and gravy at eight, and carrots at three.”
Clay released her hand, ran his fingers along the edge of the table, found his knife and fork, and started on his food. She smiled at his resourcefulness and raised a bite to her mouth, thankful the short veil stopped at her nose.
“You two seem awfully friendly.”
Hank’s accusing tone shot ice shards to her abdomen. Why was he so untrusting? From all Clay had told her, she’d expected a much warmer greeting.
Clay smiled in her direction. “We’ve spent a good amount of time together while I was at the school.”
“Like bathing together?”
Heat burned her chest and raced up her neck to her face. What they’d done was improper, but not when she considered they would soon be married. At least if she had anything to do about it.
“I told you, we’re thinking about getting married, and what we do isn’t any of your damn business.” Clay’s jaw twitched and his hands fisted around his utensils. “We’re both grown people and know what we’re doing.”
“You think Ethan would condone this kind of behavior?” Hank’s voice rose, and people at nearby tables stared at them.
“Shh…” Rachel hissed. “This is a matter to be taken up in privacy.” She glared at Hank. “You aren’t acting anything like Clay described you.”
“Has carrying the burden of the stamp mill soured you?” Clay pointed at her. “Eat.”
Rachel smirked inwardly at the surprise on Hank’s face. He didn’t realize his brother’s acuity of his surroundings.
“How did you know she wasn’t eating?”
“I hadn’t heard her utensil scrape the plate in a while.” Clay took a bite.
“She could have been eating with her fingers.”
Clay laughed. “Rachel’s too civilized. That’s why we aren’t married. I didn’t want to tie her here if she doesn’t like it.”
Rachel stared at Hank. “Has he always thought for other people?”