Cimarron Rose

by Nicole Foster

  They didn’t know it was the one thing she couldn’t do.

  But before she found the words to try to defend her apparent selfishness, Case spared her that agony.

  He straightened and stepped over to stand in front of her. Looking directly into her eyes, he lifted her chin and forced her to face him squarely.

  “You can’t go without pay. Your companion depends on you and we all know how ill she is,” he said firmly. “We all understand.”

  “But, Case, I want—”

  “Katlyn, it’s all right. Isn’t it?” He drew away from her and turned to the others.

  Murmurs of approval answered him all around but Katlyn’s conscience forced her to try to justify herself.

  “I don’t need the money for myself. No matter how much I would like to turn it down, I have no choice. She may die if I can’t pay for the care she needs.”

  Sally moved over to her then, taking Katlyn’s hand between her work-roughened palms. “We all know that, honey. We believe you. You don’t need to say any more.”

  We believe you…Those words of faith, the comforting smiles at every side, the look of absolute understanding and trust in Case’s eyes were her undoing.

  Her heart in her throat, her eyes filling with tears, she managed to choke out, “Thank you all. I’ll find a way to make this up to you. I’ll work twice as hard, I swear.”

  Bucky laughed then, easing the tension. “Miss McLain, you already do that!”

  After putting Emily to sleep with yet another story of castles and brave princesses, Case headed back downstairs to finish one last job he’d started earlier, repairing a corner of the bar counter. When Jack had shown up later that morning, he and Bat had tackled the job of hauling out the broken furniture and glass, while Case began prioritizing repairs.

  He shook his head in amazement at how much Becky and Bucky and Sally had accomplished in the foyer already. Cleaned of debris and scoured of dust and dirt, it was bare, but no longer resembled the backside of a stampede, as Bucky had put it.

  Katlyn spent most of the day in the dining room and kitchen with Tuck, reorganizing and working on new menus. He’d seen little of her during the day, but as he crossed the foyer, the soft strains of piano and an angelic voice he knew well reached his ears.

  His songbird.

  Following the soulful melody of her mournful Irish ballad, he stepped into the dining room and saw her there, sitting at the piano alone in the shadowy stillness.

  Her hair tumbled down her back as if she’d recently untwisted her braid and run her hands through it to comb it. She leaned a little over the keyboard, her eyes closed, lost in her song, and she sang as if every word cut at her heart.

  “‘And the waves and the wind,

  Tossed his ship to and fro’,

  But his heart ne’er did fail,

  For his love would he hail,

  Through the storm did he strive,

  To his lass, to his love,

  Rocky coast, sandy shore,

  Ne’er to leave ever more.”’

  Katlyn let her fingers slide from the keys, the last notes fading to an echo. Her head bent, she sighed and brushed quickly at her eyes.

  The gesture tugged at Case’s heart. He offered a quiet applause as he walked slowly to her side, the sound drawing her eyes to his.

  “That’s one I haven’t heard before,” he said softly. “It’s moving.”

  “Yes…” Katlyn cleared her throat then smiled a little. “It’s one for dining by candlelight, I think.”

  “Mmm, I believe you’re right.” Drawing a cheroot from his shirt pocket, Case went through the motions of clipping and lighting it, then leaned against the piano and took a long draw before adding, “We’ll have to make certain we have candlelight.”

  Katlyn followed the motion of his hands, marveling at the combination of strength and grace. She had witnessed both, when he defended the people he cared for and his hotel, and when he touched her in that slow, supple way with desire in his eyes.

  Quickly she glanced away from him, not wanting him to see the longing she was sure must be clear on her face.

  Case didn’t miss the glimmer of need in her eyes. He said nothing, only smiled to himself.

  “I see you’ve already taken it upon yourself to have the piano moved here.”

  “Oh, Jack did it, with a little help from Sally’s oldest,” Katlyn said, glad to have a distraction to her illicit thoughts. “And I told him to buy a new shirt, and do away with that scarred-up leather vest of his. He’ll need to look presentable for the kind of audience we want.”

  Case blew out a series of perfect smoke rings and smiled. “Sounds like you have everything under control.”

  Katlyn couldn’t hold back a sigh. She gazed into eyes that looked dark and fathomless in the dim light, unable to read his expression. “Case, I wish…I feel so badly about having to take what money you can pay me.”

  “I told you I understand.”

  “I know, but—”

  “But nothing. We’re not discussing this any more. I will say, though, this friend of yours must be one special lady to have earned such devotion. I hope to have the privilege of meeting her someday.”

  Katlyn just kept from flinching. She shrugged, toying with the piano keys. “She’s far too ill for visitors now, but maybe one day.”

  “Definitely one day.”

  Not liking the determination in his tone, Katlyn hurriedly began rattling off ideas for converting the dining room, just as determined to change the subject.

  “…and thank heavens the white linens weren’t damaged, and we still have all the china,” she was saying when Case bent and stopped her prattle with a kiss.

  At the touch of his lips, she melted. She yielded, helpless to resist, when he pulled her to her feet and into his arms, craving the feeling only Case could give her.

  Her response tempted Case to press further. But remembering her hesitation before, he kept his caresses light and stroking, teasing them both with a taste of the fire between them.

  He finally broke the kiss when his teasing started to become torment. Cradling her against his heart, he held her close.

  “I think we’ve both done enough planning for one day,” he murmured. “The real work begins tomorrow.”

  “Was that your idea of planning? If so, I don’t think it’s going to be too good for business.”

  “You’re my business, Katlyn,” he said, lifting her chin so their eyes met. “So I happen to think it’s very good.”

  And when he joined his mouth to hers again, Katlyn had no reason to disagree.

  The stranger held a hand to his eyes, blocking out bright morning sun streaming through a broken window. “Excuse me, I’m lookin’ for Penelope Rose. I heard she was singin’ here.”

  Case looked from the broken window frames he was helping Bat pry off to the man who stood just inside the saloon. Tall and elegant in his finely tailored suit with its elaborate gold-and-red silk vest, his silver hair brushed into a smooth cap, he looked as if he’d taken a wrong turn from San Francisco to end up in Cimarron.

  “Miss Rose is singing here,” Case said, coming up to the man. “I’m Case Durham, I own the St. Martin. What’s your business with Miss Rose?”

  “Well, now,” said the man, smiling broadly. “I like a man who comes right to the point. But I promise you, Penelope will be pleased as punch to see me. You just tell her Luck Connor is here, all the way from St. Louis. That’ll bring her runnin’.”

  Will it now? Case wondered, not liking the easy assurance of Luck Connor or the implication behind the older man’s wink and grin. Bat, who had paused in his work, now avoided Case’s backward glance and began industriously yanking at the window frames again.

  “I’ll find Miss Rose,” Case said, striding past Connor to the door to call sharply for Becky. When the girl came running up he said shortly, “Go and find Miss Rose and tell her I want to see her. Now.”

  Katlyn came a few minutes
later, wiping her hands against her skirts. She looked perplexed and a little concerned at his summons. “Case, what is it? I was in the middle of finishing—”

  The instant Luck Connor turned to greet her, she stopped cold. Case thought it would take a blind man not to recognize the naked fear in her eyes. He took a step forward in an instinctive move to protect her. But in the next moment she flashed a brilliant smile and rushed up to Connor, putting a hand on his arm. “Luck, it’s so wonderful to see you! I had no idea you were coming to New Mexico, and here, of all places.” She whirled to Case. “Luck is an old friend. He owns one of the riverboats I sang on for oh, so many years. Why, he was the one who started calling me the St. Louis Songbird, weren’t you, Luck?”

  Katlyn turned back to Luck Connor, careful to shield her face from Case. With her eyes and a hard squeeze of his forearm, she begged Luck to hold his tongue long enough for her to get him alone and explain.

  Seeing Luck here shocked her to the core. She prayed her face hadn’t betrayed her terror to Case, and more that her mother’s old friend would keep their secret. Luck had been one of Penelope’s many lovers, one she kept returning to over the years, and the only one who ever stayed a friend.

  A good friend, Katlyn hoped now, for both her and Penelope’s sakes.

  “You’re lookin’ fine, honey. Younger and prettier than ever,” Luck said with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “This wild country must agree with you. You’ll have to tell me all about it. You hightailed it so fast out of St. Louis, I never got the chance to hear why.” He put an arm around Katlyn’s waist, the pressure of his fingers daring her to object. “We got us a lot to talk about.”

  Inwardly, Katlyn groaned. Case looked as if he wanted to commit murder with his bare hands and she wished she could tell him she shared his sentiment.

  Extricating herself from Luck’s hold with a wide smile that never reached her eyes, she said sweetly, “Oh, we sure do. Come and have a drink with me in my suite and we’ll catch up on old times.”

  She would have preferred to talk to Luck anywhere but in her rooms, but she couldn’t think of a place more private. She couldn’t risk being interrupted or overheard.

  “I won’t be long,” she said, risking a look at Case and immediately wishing she hadn’t.

  His face was set in that stony coldness she remembered so well from her early days at the St. Martin. It had been missing lately, replaced by tenderness and the heat of desire.

  With a sharp pang, Katlyn knew it would be a long time before she saw that in him again and cursed Luck’s untimely arrival.

  Case let her move past him and to the door before he could control himself enough to speak.

  Anger and suspicion warred inside him, but above all he felt an irrational rage against the man who touched Katlyn as if he’d done it many times before and had the right of possession.

  Obviously, Luck Connor was more than an “old friend,” although he was hardly the man he would have pictured Katlyn with. Years older than her, with that insincere, patronizing attitude toward her, Connor was the kind of man he could envision with the Penelope Rose he had imagined in the beginning.

  But not the Katlyn McLain he knew by heart.

  “Miss Rose,” he said sharply, stopping Katlyn on her way out the door.

  Keeping his expression carefully controlled with sheer will, Case looked straight at her, ignoring Luck Connor. “Bring your guest to dinner with us, won’t you? I’m sure we’ll all enjoy talking to your old friend.”

  Katlyn came downstairs less than a half hour later, Luck on her heels.

  After explaining her mother’s situation, it had taken a considerable amount of cajoling and pleading on her part to wring a promise from Luck to keep their secret. He had agreed only on the condition she take him to see Penelope.

  Katlyn wanted to refuse. Even more, she wanted to shove Luck Connor onto the next stage to anywhere.

  But when Luck wanted something, he would resort to anything to get it. He’d betray her in an instant with a smile and a tip of his hat. Which left her no choice but to take him to the boardinghouse.

  She hoped to at least escape running into Case on her way out. He came out of the saloon just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, though, as if he’d been listening for her footsteps.

  “Are you leaving us, Miss McLain?” Case asked.

  Katlyn inwardly winced at his cold, formal tone. “Only for a short time. Luck insists on visiting my—Beatrice.”

  “Ah, the mysterious companion. I thought you said she refused all visitors.”

  “Beatrice has known Luck longer than I have. I’m sure she would be disappointed if she didn’t get a chance to see him before he leaves Cimarron.” She took Luck’s arm and pushed him toward the door. “I won’t be long.”

  Seeing the ice in Case’s eyes, Katlyn thought it would be long, though, before she could convince him Luck Connor was nothing more to her than an unwelcome surprise from the past.

  “How lovely for your ma to have a visitor, and such a handsome one, too.” Mrs. Donaldson beamed at Katlyn as she refilled her teacup. “I’m sure she gets lonely, not able to leave her bed and all.”

  “Yes, I know she does,” Katlyn said, glancing at the stairs for the umpteenth time in the past hour. She’d left her mother to her reunion with Luck.

  At first Penelope balked at allowing Luck to see her. But Katlyn pressed her, knowing if they wanted Luck to keep their secret, Penelope would have to suffer through at least a brief visit.

  After Penelope reconciled to the inevitable, though, Katlyn swore her mother started to like the idea of meeting her old lover again. At Penelope’s insistence, Katlyn helped her dress in a gold satin negligee that complimented her coloring, brush her hair, and touch a little color to her sallow cheeks.

  When Katlyn at last let Luck in her mother’s room, she found herself dismissed, reluctantly agreeing at Penelope’s request to have a nice cup of tea with Mrs. Donaldson.

  She suspected her mother was still a bit uneasy about meeting Luck again from her sickbed and wanted Katlyn there in case it all went wrong. After an hour, Katlyn decided whatever was happening, Penelope apparently was pleased.

  She was ready to give up her vigil in the parlor and go back to the hotel when Luck appeared at the top of the stairs. “Can you come up for a minute, honey?”

  Katlyn braced herself for the worst but when she went into her mother’s room, Penelope greeted her with a dazzling smile. Propped up on several pillows, Penelope still looked fragile. But her eyes sparkled and the flush on her face was more nature than rouge.

  “Oh, Katie, I’ve been having the most marvelous time,” she said. Penelope stretched out a hand and Katlyn took it, coming to sit beside her mother on the bed. “How silly of you to be worried about Luck keeping our little secret. Why, he’s been just wonderful. We’ve had so much to talk about.”

  She turned her smile on Luck and he grinned back. “Still a lot more where that came from, honey.” He glanced at Katlyn. “You tell that Mr. Durham for me, Katie, that I’ll have dinner at his hotel some other night. Your mother and I are going to have us a little party right here.”

  Katlyn quickly looked at Penelope. “Mama, are you sure you’re—”

  “Don’t fuss, Katie,” Penelope said, lifting a lank hand to wave away her concern. “I’m not a total invalid, no matter what that wretched doctor may say. You go on back to the hotel. Aren’t you singing tonight?”

  Katlyn didn’t bother to answer. She didn’t want her mother to know about the disaster at the hotel. Kissing Penelope’s cheek, she wished her mother and Luck a good evening, then left them to their party. Maybe a little male attention was the best medicine her mother could have right now and Luck Connor certainly had plenty of that to give.

  The afternoon shadows had lengthened into evening when she reached the St. Martin and let herself into the foyer with a sigh. Caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t see Case step out of the saloon until she ne
arly cannoned into him.

  “Miss McLain—you’re alone,” he said.

  “Yes,” Katlyn snapped, tired and afraid and not ready to do combat with him tonight. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room. I need to get some sleep so tomorrow I can make up for the time I lost today. I have a list of things a mile long to do around here.”

  Case put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her move toward the staircase. “Not yet. Not until we talk about Luck Connor.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Case expected her to refuse. Facing him now, stiff with anger, her eyes hot, she looked ready to turn her temper loose on him.

  He couldn’t blame her. He had no right to ask about her past and she owed him no explanations. She had done her part and more to help the St. Martin. Beyond that, they had made no promises to each other.

  Except that seeing Luck Connor had rekindled the fear in her he’d seen from the day she arrived. He didn’t understand it, but suddenly he wanted to, more urgently than ever before.

  “I want to help you,” he said at last.

  Katlyn wilted. She wanted to be furious with him, she was furious with him. But it was hard to sustain her aggravation at his high-handed demands when he looked at her as if everything about her truly mattered to him, and offered to help in that low, husky voice that plucked a chord of need deep inside her.

  Slipping from his hold, she walked into the saloon and sat at one of few tables still standing. Bat had left two of the oil lamps lit and they cast a dim uneven light over the broken room.

  Case sat opposite her with his back to the lamp glow. The shadow masking his face made it impossible for Katlyn to read his expression.

  Katlyn didn’t give herself time to think about what deep waters she might be diving into but plunged ahead. “You want to talk about Luck. There’s very little to say. He was never my lover, although I know that’s what you believe. He owns a riverboat and he created the St. Louis Songbird to entertain his customers. He was a friend, nothing more.”