“My saloon manager.”
“What does that mean?”
Rico could tell what Sullivan thought it meant. He was embarrassed that his friend thought him good enough for only one thing. Not that he wasn’t very good at that one thing, but he’d never had to take money for it before. He had a feeling that taking money for it now would not get him Carrie. If it would, he’d agree in a heartbeat.
“It means he keeps out the riffraff. He’s very handy that way.”
“I have no doubt he’s handy. But a job here doesn’t mean he can keep Carrie. I’m sorry, Kid. Really I am.”
“You are not sending her to an orphanage,” Rico said. “I’ll shoot you myself before I’ll let you do that.”
“You and what great big gun? You couldn’t hit me if you tried.”
“I’ll sneak up on you and stick you in your sleep.”
Sullivan’s expression gave his opinion of that idea. He had taught Rico everything he knew about sneaking.
“Relax, Rico. You won’t have to do me in. Tonight she’ll stay with us. Tomorrow I’ll see if there’s a family in town who will take her.”
“If not?”
“Then I’ll check the surrounding ranches and the closest towns.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Sullivan left with Carrie. Kicking and screaming, she rode his shoulder out the door. Even Rico’s gentle conversation with her about what was best had done no good. Carrie knew what was best for Carrie—and that was Rico.
Rico’s stomach twisted tighter than a cinch on a winter-grazed horse. He felt as ill as Johnny looked. The boy hadn’t enjoyed Carrie’s tears, either, which made Rico forgive him for hiding her. As her shouts faded, Johnny strode to the piano and began to play “Weeping Sad and Lonely.”
Music appeared to be the boy’s way of communicating, since he had no other. Johnny could make a body want to weep or whistle, depending on the tune he played. Right now Rico wanted to kick and scream and cry a while himself.
Yvonne had disappeared into her room as soon as Carrie started wailing. She didn’t seem very comfortable around children. At least there were no customers tonight. Lily had posted a notice saying there would be a gala reopening that weekend. With all the hustle and bustle that went on here these days, the few regulars had opted to stay away until things settled down again.
Laurel and Kate had continued to sew without speaking to anyone but each other. They had found their element with fabric, scissors, and thread. Whereas before they had both seemed a bit dim, now that they plied a trade at which they excelled, the two appeared a lot brighter. Rico only hoped the grand venture Lily envisioned would work.
Why had she come to his room and seduced him? Not saying that he hadn’t enjoyed it, but the woman made no sense. Had he become irresistible in the past few days?
Ego the size of Texas or not, he didn’t think so. In fact, after hearing from one and all how worthless he was, Rico figured Lily would order him out of her place instead of offering him a job. That is, if the offer was even real.
Right now, he just wanted to sleep. Leaving Johnny to a rendition of “Do They Miss Me at Home,” he retreated upstairs. But instead of lying down, he stared across the street toward the hotel where Carrie slept. He hadn’t felt this bad since he was fourteen and lived at home in San Antone.
A soft tap on his door preceded its opening. “Rico?” Lily murmured. “You okay?”
When he didn’t answer because he didn’t know, she crossed the room and laid her hands on his shoulders. How could such a simple act feel so good? He wanted her to touch him, just like that, until his stomach stopped roiling and his head stopped spinning.
“She’ll be all right.”
“Maybe.”
Her fingers slid along the shirt he’d put on to take Carrie downstairs. He wished he’d taken it back off so he could feel her fingers on his skin.
A shiver raced down his back. There was something between them that had never been between him and any other woman, and he wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
“Sullivan’s a good man. And Eden is a mother if ever I saw one.”
“She is,” he agreed
“So why are you so upset about a child who isn’t even yours?”
“It does not matter if she’s mine by blood, she is in my heart. Has been since the first day I saw her. I’d do anything for Carrie. Yet the men I’ve ridden with for years, men whose lives I’ve saved, think I’m too incompetent to care for a child.”
“Are you?”
Sadness filled his heart, along with the truth. “Yes.”
Lily touched his face as if she understood, as if she didn’t care. Needing whatever comfort he could get right now, Rico rubbed his cheek along her palm. His unshaven chin rasped against her wrist, and she caught her breath.
Her hand hovered in the air between them, and he closed his fingers about her wrist then drew it closer to his lips, pressing an openmouthed kiss to the pulse that leaped there. His tongue laved the throbbing vein, felt the ebb and flow of her blood trapped beneath the skin; the salt and summer scent of Lily filled his nose. Consumed by her, tempted, entranced, a flutter of uncertainty made him pull away. Still needing some kind of connection in the dark, lonely night, he laced his fingers between hers, and she held on.
Though he should take what she offered and let the questions be damned, Rico found that he could not. “Tell me, querida, why did you not desire me the first time I kissed you.”
“You wanted nothing from me but sex. You barely even knew my name.”
“And now that I know your name?”
“You want nothing from me but sex.”
“And this is different from the first time I touched you, why?”
“I’ve been watching you, listening to the others. I want you just as you are.”
Certain he was not going to like the answer to his next question, he asked anyway. “How am I?”
“Decorative, irresponsible, unemployed, and—”
He stood, pulling his hand from hers and moving far enough away that he could not smell her skin, even though he could still taste it. “And what?”
“An excellent lover?”
“Is that a question?”
“I’d like to discover the answer.”
“But why, querida? Why would you want to take a pretty, worthless bum to your bed? No one is that good.”
“I bet you are.”
“You flatter me.” Except he didn’t feel flattered; he felt a bit filthy.
“Is it working?”
“No. You offered me a job. Was that just for show?”
“The offer is real.”
“But then I would not be unemployed. One less mark on my sterling character.” He bowed his head in a gesture he’d often seen his father use with the help. “Unfortunately, I must decline your offer.”
“What’s the matter with you? I offer you a job; I offer you what you want, me, and you act like I’ve called you dirt and spit on your shoe.”
“Haven’t you?”
“I don’t recall that.”
“Think again. I am no male courtesan, senorita. Just as I insulted you when I offered to pay, you insult me with the offer of work and your bed.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Nevertheless, it is what I heard.”
“Clean out your ears.”
“What is between a man and a woman is supposed to be something beautiful—a gift, a promise, a time away from sadness and care, a way to feel better about oneself, not worse.”
“Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“But the way you see me makes me sad. It makes me lonely even as your breath touches my skin and your body calls to mine. That’s not how it should be. You reveal me as less than I ever wished to be, even though I know you see me exactly as I am.”
Rico couldn’t believe
he was about to do what he was about to do. “Go away, Lily. Let me be alone with my decorative, irresponsible, unemployed self.”
The lights went out in the hotel. Darkness spread across the street and through his heart.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the loneliness he’d asked for was all he had to keep him company throughout the night.
* * *
Three Queens improved with each passing day. The girls hung curtains. Lily planned the program. Yvonne readied the bar and did the cooking. Rico built a stage, while Johnny continued to play sad songs unless Carrie was near.
Luckily, Carrie was near a lot. The child slipped her keepers’ watch day in and day out to sneak about and follow Rico. According to Eden, Sullivan was having no luck finding a family for her. If she’d been a boy, any one of the surrounding ranchers would have taken her in. As it was, a foul-mouthed, sneaky nine-year-old girl who preferred to run around in bare feet and boys’ clothes was not high on the list of anyone’s needs in or around Rock Creek.
When she began to skip school, Eden and Sullivan sent her to live with the schoolmaster. From what Lily had heard, no one messed with Reese—except, it appeared, Carrie.
Rico ignored Lily daily. She shouldn’t have cared, but every time he turned his back, she hurt. Before Lily had come to Rock Creek, emotions were not for her. Now she couldn’t seem to stop feeling, stop wanting, stop needing.
She slept fitfully. Lonely and sad and somewhat sick of herself, when she did manage to drift off, images of Rico, without his shirt or anything else, made her hot and itchy, mindful that what she dreamed would never be.
A few days before her planned gala opening, Lily awoke later than usual to the sound of Johnny tinkering on the piano. What she needed was to get back to work. Readying Three Queens for the opening was not what she considered work. She was out of sorts because she hadn’t sung each night. She thrived on the attention of the crowd. That was the only reason she was lonely, not because a knife-wielding pretty boy had turned his back on her.
She followed the scent of coffee downstairs. Yvonne was worth every penny Lily would ever pay her by virtue of the coffee alone. The woman’s second greatest virtue was her ability to keep quiet and go away until she was needed. After a single glance at Lily’s face, Yvonne handed over a full cup and disappeared.
Lily sat at an empty table and brooded. No man had ever turned her down. Not that she’d offered herself to any, ever, but that was beside the point. For a man like Rico to refuse no-strings-attached sex with a woman he’d tried to buy only a few days before made Lily wonder if he possessed more character than she’d given him credit for.
He’d refused both her and the job. While the former taunted an ego she hadn’t known she possessed, the latter threatened her dream. How was she going to find another riffraff manager in a town like Rock Creek? How was she going to face Rico every day knowing she’d thrown herself at him and he’d tossed her right back?
Her mama’s long-ago tears had started to make sense, and that would not do. Lily was no good at this man-woman nonsense. In her life, men took, women gave, and you lived with that, however little you liked it.
Fool. Idiot. Amateur.
Did she feel better now? Not really. No wonder Rico had told her no. She’d called him worse names and expected him to kiss her.
Johnny started to play “John Brown’s Body.” Lily strode across the room. She put her hands over his and caused a horrible sound that made Johnny cringe.
“Sorry.” She removed her hands. “I can’t stand any more sad songs. It’s too early in the day.”
He began to play “Dixie” an octave higher and several beats faster than it was written.
“Funny guy.”
Johnny’s fingers faltered. A tall man filled the entrance to the saloon, one elbow perched upon each swinging door. The shadow of his hat and the downward tilt of his head, combined with the overcast early-morning light, did not allow Lily to see his face. Which only made her certain he had come to drag her back to hell.
The gun at his side looked like a professional’s, well used and well loved, and when he came toward them, his loose-hipped grace reminded Lily of a stalking wildcat. He was dangerous—always had been, always would be.
Lily had hoped, since no one had found them right away, that they were safe. She should have known R.W. would hire a man such as this one to find them.
Johnny tugged on Lily’s arm, trying to pull her behind him. She wouldn’t go. If their visitor had come from R.W., she would deal with him. She would not let him near Johnny, and she would not go back to the life she’d led before. One taste of freedom had been all it took to show her that she’d lived in a prison for far too long.
Lily wished she hadn’t become so cavalier about her knives. But in this town, with Rico hanging about, she hadn’t felt the need to strap on steel for several days. Now she had nothing with which to defend herself and Johnny.
Then the man thumbed up the brim of his hat, and she recognized him from the day the men had gone looking for Carrie. “It’s y-you,” she stammered. “Th-the schoolteacher. Reese.”
His golden eyebrows shot toward his black hat. “You didn’t recognize me?”
Guilt made people see all sorts of things that weren’t there. “I didn’t. Not dressed like...” She made a helpless gesture with her hands.
“A bounty hunter?”
Lily winced. His cagey green gaze sharpened. Reese might not be the enemy, but he was too observant by half. She schooled her face into an expression appropriate for polite chitchat, something she was very good at.
“With all the excitement, we didn’t get a chance to meet properly the other day.” She held out her hand. “Lily Fortier.”
“James Reese.” He studied her face too closely for her liking. “You can just call me Reese. Everyone does.”
No matter how she tried, Lily could not reconcile the image of a scholarly book learner with this man in front of her now.
“Everyone calls you Reese except the children,” she observed. “And Mary.”
At the sound of his wife’s name, a gentle expression came over Reese’s face, altering his watchful countenance. “Once Mary called me that, too. But when we got married, she said she wasn’t calling her husband by his last name like an outlaw bandit, even if he insisted on dressing like one.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t particularly care for my fondness for black. Says I wear it to scare all the children into submission.”
“Does it work?”
“Only with certain children.”
Lily found herself charmed by him, as she’d been charmed by his wife and daughter. But he had come for a reason, and until she knew what that reason was, she didn’t dare allow herself to relax. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”
“Hope so. Is this Johnny? Your brother?”
Was that sarcasm on the word “brother”? Or merely the inflection of his voice—southern, maybe Georgia. Lily gave herself a mental shake. No one in this town had reason to doubt their story, least of all this man, whom she’d barely met.
“Why do you want to know?”
He cast her a quick glance, and Lily felt as if she’d stepped into a hole she hadn’t seen coming. Being too suspicious, too defensive, would make her look guilty—something she couldn’t afford.
“I’m the schoolteacher,” he said. “I’ve come to take him to school.”
“Johnny doesn’t talk.”
“All the more reason for him to learn all that he can to get by in this world.”
“I won’t have him tormented over something he can’t help or change.”
“Do I look like the kind of man who allows tormenting to go on in my class?”
She bit her lip. “Perhaps not.”
“Believe me, Miss Fortier, nothing goes on in my school that I don’t want to go on there. Can Johnny write?”
“Only his name.”
“Does he read?”
“Not that I know
of.”
Reese’s gaze sharpened. “How long has your brother been like this?”
Lily realized her mistake. If Johnny were her brother, she’d know if he could read. She’d know without thinking how long he’d been silent. The stillness stretched from thoughtful toward guilty.
Johnny held up a single hand, fingers spread wide, then flattened and tilted them from side to side.
“Five years?” Reese looked at Lily. “Give or take?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Did you lose the rest of your family in the war?”
She looked down. Reese must have taken that as a yes, for he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Everyone’s been scarred by the war. Sometimes I wonder if there’ll ever be a day when someone or something doesn’t remind me of it.”
The peace that had filled his eyes at the mention of his wife fled. Memories flickered; ghosts of the South, no doubt. Everyone who’d worn the gray had them. Some were able to live with them better than others, though no one ever forgot.
Reese closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them, the amiable schoolmaster had replaced the haunted soldier. “If Johnny once spoke, it’ll be a lot easier to teach him to read and write.”
Lily caught the expression of longing in Johnny’s eyes before his face went carefully blank.
Lies multiplied until they took over your life. If they stuck with the lie that Johnny could not speak, he could learn as he wished to and not be tormented. Since they’d come here and Johnny had been accepted as a mute, he was less tense, he smiled more, he appeared happier. Perhaps prolonged silence would even cure his horrible stutter.
Though Lily was beginning to feel at home in Rock Creek, and wished she could be completely truthful with her new friends, to keep Johnny safe, she would lie to an angel.
Lily laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “You’d like to read, wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged.
“And write?”
Another shrug.
“You can go if it would make you happy, sugar.”
Hope filled his eyes.
“That’s settled, then.”
“Now,” Reese rubbed his hands together. “One other problem.”
Lily and Johnny froze.
Rico (The Rock Creek Six Book 3) Page 9