Cimarron Rose

by Nicole Foster

  She could have cheerfully strangled Case when he turned from welcoming the guests and beckoned, fixing all eyes on her. “Miss Rose, come and meet our guests.”

  Just stopping herself from glaring at him, Katlyn pasted on a bright smile. As Case introduced her as Penelope Rose, she tried not to cringe at the name or to think about how she looked after a morning of bathing in dust.

  “Oh, Miss Rose, it’s such a pleasure,” one of the gentlemen said as he took her hand. He peered at her through small, round spectacles, his withered hand pumping hers in pleasure. “I heard you sing once, oh, many years ago, when I was visiting a niece in St. Louis. I told my wife then, I had never heard such a beautiful voice. You’re the reason we decided to stop here on our way down to Santa Fe. When I heard you were here at the St. Martin, I insisted we come.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps you’ll come and hear me sing again tonight then,” Katlyn said, fervently wishing he would do anything but.

  Unfortunately, the man bobbed his head in enthusiasm. “I shall, we all shall. You know, my dear…” He took off his spectacles and polished them on a large handkerchief. Then, putting them back on, he squinted at her again. “You look as young and lovely as you did then. Why it seems you haven’t changed a bit in all these years.”

  “Our songbird never ceases to amaze me,” Case said.

  Katlyn didn’t dare look at him, but she clearly heard the dry note in his voice and could tell without seeing he had that cool, mocking look in his eyes.

  “I’m sure you’re too kind,” she told the elderly man. “But I hope you will enjoy my singing now as much as you enjoyed the St. Louis Songbird then.”

  She managed to make her escape finally, after accepting several more effusive compliments from her admirer, and being introduced to his wife, daughter and friends. Pleading the need to freshen up and rest before her performance, she headed for the stairs and the sanctuary of her rooms.

  She didn’t realize Case followed her until his hand on hers stopped her on the first step.

  “Is something wrong, Miss McLain?”

  “Katlyn,” she snapped. “And no, nothing is wrong. Why should there be? I’m just tired, and I’m not used to greeting people looking like this.”

  Case nearly came back with some caustic retort about her renewed testiness but something in her face stopped him. She was pale and tense, and the pulse under his hand beat frantically. It was then he realized she wasn’t having a fit of temper over being seen with dirt on her nose.

  Katlyn McLain was scared to death.

  Chapter Five

  Katlyn hated disturbing her mother, but a choking panic at the thought someone might expose her as a fraud drove her straight to Penelope’s side.

  “Mama?” Katlyn knelt by the bed and gently stroked her mother’s fragile hand. “I’m sorry, Mama, but I have to talk to you.”

  Penelope’s eyes fluttered open, their usual sparkle replaced by a dull haze. “Katie, you’re back already? What time is it?”

  “It’s only afternoon. I’m sorry to wake you, but I had to come.”

  Struggling to pull herself up against the pillow, Penelope squinted a little at her daughter. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “Something—maybe nothing. Someone came to the hotel today who’s seen you sing before. He’s elderly and his vision is poor, but he told Case I hadn’t changed at all in years.” Katlyn fussed with arranging her mother’s quilt until Penelope swatted at her hand in exasperation. “What if he remembers how you sing? What if he figures out I’m not the St. Louis Songbird he remembers? What if—”

  “What if you stop all this unnecessary fussing? You listen to me, Katie. If this gentleman insists on remarking on your looks again, you simply tell him in your most charming way that a lady does what she must to stay one step ahead of the competition.”

  “But—”

  Penelope’s body drooped and she had to stop to catch her breath. “Do as I say.”

  Realizing she’d taxed her mother terribly with her outburst, Katlyn regretted it. “I always have, Mama,” she said softly as she helped her mother lie back down. “Don’t worry, I always will.”

  To Katlyn’s relief, the elderly couple didn’t come to her performance that night or the next. She learned later from Becky that the wife pleaded exhaustion and her husband refused to leave her side.

  When they did finally appear in the saloon with their friends one night, the audience was so raucous they’d ended up sitting far in back, near the doors. For the next few nights, knowing they’d be there, she’d used extra makeup and slipped out after her performances to retreat to her rooms before they could approach her.

  But tonight Case had snagged her during her escape, demanding she speak with the couple.

  Now Katlyn paced by the bar, fidgeting with the pale green lace at her sleeve, growing more irritated by the minute.

  “Can I get you a drink, Miss McLain?”

  “Will someone please call me Katlyn?” she snapped, immediately regretted it and gave Bat Pacheo a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long evening.”

  The bartender smiled back, understanding in his eyes, and handed her a glass of apple cider. He took extra care with the simple motion, as if concentrating on each movement of the bent and twisted fingers of his right hand.

  “Oh, you remembered, thank you,” Katlyn said, grateful for the small kindness. “This is wonderful.”

  As she took another sip, Bat nodded behind her. “Looks like the boss is comin’ your way.”

  Good for him, Katlyn thought. At that moment she imagined she could actually hate the man. She certainly detested his arrogance. By forcing this meeting, he could expose her and ruin everything. And maybe, she thought with a combination of fear and anger, that’s what he intended.

  The object of her thoughts strode up to her side, tall, handsome and confident, his guests following.

  He swept Katlyn with an appraising look, his expression offering no hint of emotion. “Miss Rose, our visitors have been anxious to talk to you,” he said coolly.

  The elderly bespectacled gentleman made his way to her and offered greetings and a polite bow. “My wife and I and our friends are leaving tomorrow. But our stay here would not have been complete without a chance to see you again.”

  Katlyn gulped back the lump rising in her throat. “I—I’m sorry I’ve been unavailable,” she stammered. Then an idea struck her. She shot Case a look of challenge. “But, you see, my singing schedule here is somewhat taxing, and I find I simply must retire early if I’m to be at my best for the next night’s performance.”

  “Well, we can certainly believe that. You’ve performed every night since we’ve been here.” The man pulled his spectacles from his wrinkled face and looked at Case. “Don’t you believe in giving your employees a day of rest, Mr. Durham?”

  Case’s jaw went stiff and his sharp green eyes narrowed on Katlyn. So she wanted to duel with him, did she? “Miss Rose has tomorrow night off.”

  The surprised look on her face was almost comical. “I do?”

  “Of course. You’ve done your job well enough.”

  “You’re being overly generous,” Katlyn said, her smile sweet but her eyes flashing fire.

  Still, she couldn’t help glancing around at the few people left in the saloon. It’d been a fair showing tonight, better than some other nights, but nothing to boast about.

  The elderly gentleman patted her arm affectionately. “Nonsense. Just you wait and see. Once word gets around, you’ll have people waiting outside to see you, just like in St. Louis.”

  “Oh, we’re all certain of that,” Case said.

  Katlyn shot him a glance but she couldn’t tell from his face whether he intended the remark to be sarcastic or not. How well he masks his emotions when it suits him, she thought with frustration.

  “I still say it’s remarkable,” the man continued, squinting at Katlyn. “She hasn’t changed at all.”

  The plump, pi
nk-cheeked woman on his arm shook her head. “Yes, dear, as a matter of fact, she has.”

  Before Katlyn could draw breath to interrupt, the woman looked accusingly at Case and said, “She’s much thinner. She must be working too hard.”

  Katlyn felt her heart start beating again.

  “I’ll have to remedy that,” Case said. He looked at Katlyn. “Don’t worry, I intend to take very good care of my songbird.”

  Morning poured into Katlyn’s room in a bright golden flood, taking the edge off the chilly mountain air while she rekindled the fire. She’d spent the night with her mother again, but at least today, for the first time since her arrival in Cimarron, she’d slept in late.

  Through the open doorway, Becky bustled about Katlyn’s sitting room, dusting this, straightening that, while Katlyn sat on her unmade bed counting up the money she’d saved so far to use to take her mother to the hospital in Las Vegas. She’d hiked her nightdress up around her thighs and her coppery mane hung in a wild mass about her face. She hadn’t bothered to brush it yet or to dress.

  “Twenty-three, twenty-four…” she whispered to herself, carefully laying aside each hard-earned dollar. When she’d finished, she tucked them all back into a pouch she hid in the drawer near her bed.

  Becky danced into the bedroom then, whistling a catchy tune. She stopped when she saw the expression on Katlyn’s face. “What’s wrong, Miss McLain? Ain’t you enjoyin’ your first day off?”

  “What?” Katlyn muttered, distracted.

  Becky came closer, cocking her head at Katlyn in confusion. “You look plain miserable. Are you that ready to get back to practicin’?”

  Katlyn brushed heavy waves of hair away from her face and moved to search for something from her wardrobe. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I’m trying hard to save all I earn, but it seems I’m not making much progress.”

  Becky plopped down on Katlyn’s bed and toyed with fluffing her pillow. “Why not? Ain’t Mr. Durham been payin’ you enough?”

  “Oh, yes. But, with the robbery, I had to replace clothing for myself and my companion. Then there’s the rent at the boardinghouse, the doctor’s bills, medicines.” She riffled through her scant selection of dresses and settled on a plain, pale blue striped cotton. “I just thought I’d saved more, that’s all.”

  “Why does saving so much money matter? You got a room and a good job,” Becky asked, shoving off the bed to begin straightening the sheets. “And Tuck makes sure we all eat every day. That’s good enough for me.”

  “You’re very young, but you’ll soon realize it’s important to plan for the future. I’m just beginning to realize how important.”

  Becky stopped and dropped the quilt she’d yanked up over the pillows. “That’s the same thing Mr. Durham is always tellin’ Bucky and me.” She stood ramrod straight then, mimicking Case’s stance, pretending to draw on an imaginary cheroot. “There are no guarantees in this life, Becky. You must learn to take care of yourself and be careful not to trust the wrong person.”

  Becky giggled and Katlyn forced herself to smile back. Though Becky’s imitation was so accurate it was funny, her words seared Katlyn’s conscience like fire.

  Would she one day give Case reason to wish he’d heeded his own advice?

  “I won’t sit in my room all day like moss on a log!” Katlyn whirled away from Case to return to her scrutiny of the dining room walls.

  Case stood behind her, arms folded. Becky and Bucky waited a safe distance away, exchanging half-smothered smiles. Sally Carver, the widow who came each day to clean the rooms, poked Bucky in the ribs with a disapproving frown. Beside her, Bat grumbled about wasting time when he needed to finish polishing bar glasses.

  Tuck poked his head out of the kitchen, took one look at the scene, muttered something about more noise than a cattle drive, and retreated.

  “The guests said you look tired,” Case said to Katlyn’s back. “I can’t have that.”

  “Oh, please, you don’t believe that any more than I do. Now, what you can’t have is this—” Katlyn flung both hands out toward the wall “—this horrid wallpaper in the dining room. It ruins my appetite just looking at it!”

  Case felt the blood pulse in his temples, but he managed to keep his voice level. “I don’t recall asking your opinion, this time or the last several.”

  Damn but the woman had a mouth on her. And it wasn’t just for singing he was finding out.

  They stood only inches apart, facing each other down, neither showing any sign of retreat.

  “Mister Durham, sir, excuse us,” Bucky piped up nervously. “It ain’t any of our business, I guess, sir, but we’re all wantin’ to see yer hotel get lots of new folks in. And, well, we was talkin’ here and I don’t know about the color and them flowers and all, but that paper does look mighty worn in spots.”

  “She does have a point about the color,” Sally said. “It looks like the red mud my boys grind into their pants with smudges of gray here and there.”

  Sally prodded Bat and he shrugged. “Don’t like them flowers myself,” he said shortly.

  “It looks as if you’ve incited a mutiny, Miss McLain,” Case said, never taking his eyes off Katlyn.

  Katlyn nearly backed down under his intimidating glare. He seemed so large, so overpowering as he towered over her, his broad shoulders enveloping her in shadow.

  She supposed that look of his should inspire fear in her. It seemed to in everyone else. But she only felt an odd, heady excitement.

  Katlyn ran her tongue slowly over dry lips and the look in Case’s eyes immediately changed. Instead of ice, she saw a flare of heat.

  Case found his gaze drawn to her mouth, scarcely aware she was speaking.

  “May I at least find out what new paper would cost?”

  “Paper,” he heard himself saying. “Yes. Bring me an estimate.”

  She smiled at him, fully and freely, her eyes shining, and Case felt it as powerfully as a force. She stepped closer and laid her hand on his arm. Her fingers pressed quickly. He could smell the lilac scent of her, warm and sweet, and it went straight to his head.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

  In that moment Case couldn’t have refused her anything, would have trusted her with his life.

  But she turned away, sweeping his staff into her plans, and he realized with a sharp return to his senses it was only a moment, nothing more.

  And that moment had passed.

  Katlyn sat at her dressing table and pulled a brush through her hair, trying to use the soothing rhythm to make herself drowsy. A midnight stillness had settled over the hotel and, alone with her thoughts in the quiet twilight of her room, she felt restless, unable to relax.

  She didn’t want to think about the day, about Case, about anything. Right now, all she wanted was to close her eyes and forget about everything for a few hours.

  The hotel creaked and Katlyn jumped, dropping her brush. Katie, my dear, you’re turning into a mouse, she told herself. You never used to be afraid of anything.

  Of course, she never used to live in a disreputable hotel pretending to be her mother, either. With a rueful smile at her own foolishness, Katlyn bent to pick up the brush.

  A low, deep groan stopped her in midmotion.

  She stayed perfectly still, her hand poised over the brush, and listened intently. For several moments she only heard the thudding of her own heart.

  Then it came again.

  Katlyn fleetingly remembered all the teasing she’d endured about Case’s resident ghosts. But the pained note in the sound convinced her that this time someone needed help—or wanted to play a not-so-amusing trick.

  Determined to find the source, Katlyn hurried outside to the stair landing. She waited and listened but heard nothing. No one seemed to be awake but her.

  And she was starting to feel a bit ridiculous, traipsing about the darkened hotel in her nightclothes. At the same time, she refused to quit wi
thout an answer.

  Maybe it had come from downstairs. Katlyn cautiously maneuvered down the staircase, keeping her ears perked.

  A soft diffused glow lit the foyer, and she stepped into it before she realized what she had done.

  Case, sitting behind the desk, studying an open ledger while fingering a cheroot, looked up in surprise at the slight hiss of her sudden intake of breath.

  He’d obviously been working for a while. His jacket and vest carelessly tossed on a chair near the desk, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, he looked as if he’d been running his hand through his hair in frustration over the numbers in front of him. A brandy bottle and half-filled glass stood to the side of the ledger, and the remains of several cheroots were crushed in the tray next to them.

  “Miss McLain…” Case slowly ground out the cheroot then looked fully at her. “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” Katlyn threw up her hands. “You had to hear it!”

  Before he could answer, the moaning came again, shuddering through the foyer.

  “That! You had to hear that!”

  Case resisted a smile. “Oh, that. It sounds like Rattlesnake Cooper, up to his tricks again.”

  “Not your ghost stories again. Do you truly expect to believe that nonsense?”

  “Who says it’s nonsense?”

  Pushing back his chair, Case stood and walked around the desk. He picked up his brandy glass and offered it to her. “Here, you look as if you could use this.”

  She looked at first as if she would refuse. Then she reached out and took the glass, her fingers just brushing his. Watching him over the rim, she took a small sip. She made a little breathy sound at the taste.

  Case found his eyes drawn to her mouth. His gut tightened when her tongue darted over her full, pink lips. All at once he noticed how the thin white cotton she wore lay like a caress against her skin, how her hair mantled her shoulders in a tumble of copper and gold.

  “Come and sit by the fire,” he heard himself saying, hardly recognizing his own voice.