Wild Forever

by Cat Cahill

  Penny mimicked him, and he nodded. He pulled a revolver from the holster at his hip and held it in both hands. “Two hands, like this. It’ll help you steady it. Find what you’re aiming at through here.” He pointed at the top of the revolver. “Then—this is important—don’t cock the gun until you’re ready. And you squeeze the trigger gently.” A bullet flew from the Colt and embedded itself in the pine tree that sat about twenty feet away.

  Penny’s hands flew to her ears and then drifted down. “I want to try.”

  Ben handed her the revolver. She held it as if it were the size of a piano.

  “It’s awfully heavy,” she said.

  “At least I didn’t give you the rifle.”

  “Thank you for that.” She lifted it in front of her, holding it awkwardly.

  “Here.” He reached for her hands. She sucked in a breath as he gripped her right hand, moving it down farther so her fingers could comfortably wrap around the handle, and then showing her how to support the weight of it with her left hand. “Better?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes rested on him for a beat longer than necessary.

  Ben pulled off his hat, running a hand through his hair and hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. It was funny—the thought of an inexperienced woman with a loaded gun in her hand didn’t unnerve him. But the way her eyes seemed to see right into his soul did.

  “All right,” he finally said. “Now find your target.”

  Penny squinted her eyes, and her hands drooped.

  “You have to keep it level. Like this.” Before he could stop himself, Ben moved behind her and wrapped both hands around hers to raise the gun.

  Her body stiffened, and then her breathing quickened. “And then I pull this down?” she asked in a voice higher than normal.

  “Yes.” His breath blew wisps of her hair into her face. She smelled of pastries and something floral he couldn’t place. The scent was heady, and for a brief moment, he almost forgot she wasn’t his to pull closer.

  She cocked the Colt, her fingers shaking. Ben wondered if it was from handling the gun or from his nearness to her. Selfishly, he hoped it was the latter.

  “Now put just a little pressure on the trigger.”

  Penny did as he asked, but the force of the gun jerked her back just as the shot erupted. Her bullet went wide and her body pushed back into him.

  “Oh my,” she breathed.

  “Try again.” He kept his place behind her, helping her hold the gun steady again. This time, she was ready for the recoil and her shot nicked the side of the tree.

  She turned, the Colt at her side. Ben didn’t step back. She was a breath away from him, her entire face alight. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I want you to keep that.” He tapped the gun at her side before taking it to reload for her.

  Her brow furrowed as he handed it back to her. “Don’t you need it?”

  “I have others with me. For now, it would help me sleep better knowing you have something to protect yourself with.” He left his hand on hers.

  Penny went rigid. “You don’t think Hagan would come here, do you?”

  “I doubt he’d be that bold. And I still don’t want you leaving the hotel alone. But for when you do go out, take this with you. I . . .” He raised his hands to her arms. “I worry enough about Adelaide. I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”

  “You worry about me?”

  More than I should. “You’re strong, I know. And now you’re even more capable of keeping yourself safe.”

  Penny slid the revolver into a pocket in her skirts but didn’t step away. “No one has ever called me strong before.”

  He lifted a hand to her face, brushing back the hair that curled on her cheek. He half expected her to push his hand away or step back, but she held still and closed her eyes for a moment. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”

  She opened her eyes and looked into his. “You really do care, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I wouldn’t make that up.” He kept his hand on her cheek, gently drawing his thumb across her cheekbone. She searched his face with worried eyes. She really did suspect he was lying to her. Why would she, unless . . . “Someone’s hurt you before.”

  She chewed on her lip and dropped her eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “I’m not him,” Ben said.

  “I know.” She looked back up at him, trusting and honest.

  How anyone could hurt her was beyond Ben. God help that man should Ben ever meet him. The desire to protect her from suffering that pain ever again consumed him. He wanted to crush her to him and make her forget about everything terrible in her life, from that man to Hagan.

  She tilted her head, almost as if she were trying to read his thoughts. Then she lifted a hand and with fingers as light as feathers, just barely grazed the skin over his cheek. He laid a hand over hers, keeping it there until he lowered his face closer to hers. Her hand fell, and he searched her eyes for permission. His heart beat wildly, terrified she’d pull away but all the while knowing it would be better if she did. But when she gave him a tentative smile, he moved closer until he could feel her breath on his face. She closed her eyes.

  And at that moment, every doubt he’d ever had flew away. There was just a hair’s breadth between them. His hands were on her arms again, drawing her closer. That floral scent invaded his senses. He wanted to drown in it. She sighed, her body trembling just a little. He closed his eyes.

  “Penny!” a voice shouted. “Are you here?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Penny leaned against the wall behind the hotel’s lunch counter while Millie folded yet another napkin. Ben hadn’t been at breakfast that morning, and she was itching to see him again.

  “Quit mooning over your beau and help me,” Millie said, holding out a white napkin.

  “He’s not my beau.” Penny glanced around to make sure no one had heard her friend.

  “Certainly looked as if he was yesterday.” Millie elbowed Penny.

  Just as Penny was sure Ben was going to kiss her yesterday, Millie had begun calling her name from beside the smithy shop. She’d been lucky it was Millie who’d volunteered to bring an order for kitchen utensils to the blacksmith, and not one of the newer girls who might’ve run back to Mrs. Ruby and told her everything. Millie was delighted with Penny’s secret and had been teasing her nonstop.

  “I haven’t seen him at all this morning.” Penny folded the napkin into a complicated flower. This was yet another thing she’d worked hard to master over the summer, and looking at her work made her think of Ben—again—and the way he’d admired her centerpieces. For the briefest of moments, she let her mind wander, imagining herself folding napkins in a home they shared together while something tasty baked in the oven, and Ben watched her proudly before rising from a chair to take her in his arms and—

  “You’re off dreaming again,” Millie said, waving an unfolded napkin in Penny’s face.

  “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I was saying your beau is right over there.” Millie pointed through the open door from the lunch counter to the hotel lobby.

  Penny’s heart quickened. There he was, deep in conversation with a bedraggled, road-weary man Penny had never seen before.

  “Here.” Millie heaped a batch of folded napkins into Penny’s arms. “Take these to the dining room and tell Mrs. Ruby we have too many at the counter.” She winked and pushed Penny toward the little door the girls used to enter and leave the counter.

  Penny stumbled forward and was halfway to the door before she realized what Millie was doing. She shook her head. Her brain needed to work before she got too close to Ben. What would she say?

  As she grew closer, the agitated look on Ben’s face became clear. He raised a hand and gestured toward the door of the hotel. The other man shook his head and shrugged. This made Ben frown even harder. He clenched his hands at his sides, and it looked as if he wanted to throttle the tra
veler.

  Penny moved behind the stranger, uncertain this was the best timing but still hoping Ben would see her. He looked up briefly, watched her for half a second, and then returned his gaze to the man he was speaking with. No smile, no acknowledgment. Her heart sank as she kept walking toward the dining room, dodging guests in the busy lobby.

  When she reached the doors, she paused, trying to calm her thoughts. He was clearly angry about something that man had told him. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed her at all. What had she expected him to do, leap toward her and twirl her about? She almost laughed. She was being ridiculous, that was all. Surely, he’d come find her once his conversation was over.

  Her mind lightened, Penny drifted into the dining room, gave Mrs. Ruby the napkins, and then returned to the lobby.

  Ben was gone.

  Penny walked the length of the imposing room, her eyes searching the formal red velvet-cushioned chairs against the walls and the larger leather seats around the fireplace near the stairs where male guests often enjoyed cigars. He wasn’t there.

  “He’s gone,” she said to Millie when she returned to the lunch counter. “He saw me, but he was talking to that man, and now I can’t find him at all.”

  “Don’t worry,” Millie said. “He’s likely attending to his business and will be back for lunch.”

  Penny forced herself to smile at her friend. Millie had to be right.

  And she was. As Penny was taking an order from a couple just stopping in from the noon train, Ben entered the dining room with his men. She had one open table in her section, and she smiled at her notepad while she waited for him to come claim it.

  She jotted down the couple’s order, checked on her other tables, and then turned to see if Ben had sat down yet.

  The table was empty.

  Confused, Penny scanned the room. Perhaps he’d decided he wasn’t hungry after all? But no . . . there they were, sitting near the door in one of the new girl’s sections. She took a deep breath. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her.

  On a mission now, Penny put in her orders before walking as fast as she could with a water pitcher toward the new girl’s section. Edie, who had only been waiting tables for a week, chatted amiably with a table of railroad men. But Penny could tell by the way the girl tapped her pencil against her notepad, and her furtive glances toward her other tables, that she was trying to figure out how to be gracious to her guests and still get her work done.

  “I’ll fill your water glasses and get that new table’s order,” Penny whispered as she passed by.

  Edie gave her a grateful look through the silver-framed spectacles perched on her nose. Penny swept past the railroad men to a table with one older gentleman. She filled his glass and then turned to the table by the door.

  Ben was talking quickly to his men. The scraggly one, Mr. Caldwell, shook his head, his long beard wagging back and forth, while Mr. Tiller, the quiet one, sat back with his arms crossed. Penny put a smile on her face and reached for young Eli Jennings’ glass first. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said in the demure yet authoritative way Mrs. Ruby had taught her. It was important for a Gilbert Girl to not make her guests feel as if she was interrupting them, but she needed to claim the attention necessary to get her work done.

  Mr. Jennings smiled at her while the other men said good afternoon in return. Ben nodded quickly at her and then continued his conversation. He was speaking about a hill and the best way to man the ground around it without anyone seeing.

  Penny stood awkwardly to the side. Ben had barely acknowledged her, again. Her heart felt as if it were cracking. After what they’d shared yesterday, didn’t she at least deserve a polite smile?

  And what was so important about this hill? She was certain it had to do with the man Ben had spoken to earlier. Perhaps he’d had new information about Adelaide. If that was it, she wanted to know. After all, with everything she’d done to help Ben find Adelaide, she’d begun to feel as if the girl was her own sister.

  Eagerly, Penny raced to set the pitcher down at the nearest station. She returned with her notepad in hand since poor Edie was still stuck at the table of railroad men. Quietly but insistently, she asked Mr. Tiller for his order. As she made her way around the table, Ben continued talking. She listened, but not much of it made sense out of context. When she reached him, she stood impatiently by his side, her pencil poised above the paper, waiting for him to pause or take a breath.

  When he did, she quickly asked for his order.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said, not even looking at her.

  “Boss, you have to eat something. Bring him some soup, Miss May,” Mr. Caldwell said.

  Penny jotted it down as Ben frowned at Mr. Caldwell.

  “You ain’t gonna find her any faster if you’re starving,” Mr. Caldwell said.

  “Do you have news about Adelaide?” The words tumbled out of Penny’s mouth. Oh, how she hoped it was good news!

  “Yes,” Ben said, and Penny thought she detected an edge to his voice.

  “Is it good?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Not particularly.” Without looking at her, he launched back into his discussion of tactics.

  Penny stood there for a moment. It felt as he’d pushed her away. It wasn’t physical, but his intent was clear. Biting hard on her lip to keep the tears from her eyes, she walked as fast as she could to the kitchen to drop off their order. Leaning against the wall, she pressed a hand to her stomach, which had twisted itself into a knot. She forced herself to take deep breaths. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry, she repeated over and over in her head.

  She’d been too reckless. It had happened before, and now it was happening again. She’d allowed him too much, and now he saw her as some kind of wanton woman. Penny thought he was different, but he fell right into one of the two camps of the men she’d thought she cared for—those who assumed she wanted more than she did, and those who were repelled by her actions. She had known he wasn’t the first type, but now . . . now it appeared he was the latter.

  The tears remained at bay. Penny rubbed her hands across her face. She had a shift to finish. After that, she could decide what to do next. Locking herself into her room for the night sounded appealing, but that would solve nothing.

  No, Ben had promised he’d never hurt her. Now that he had, she wanted answers.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Ben paced back and forth in the billiards room at the rear of the hotel. A few men played on a table at the far end of the room, while others sat in groups, smoking and sipping drinks. He’d come down here hoping to clear his mind and make decisions. But the clatter of balls on the table and laughter distracted him instead of helping.

  He left the room, pausing outside the door to shrug into his coat. He exited the back door of the hotel into the garden. No one was out here, save for one figure standing at the short wall that ringed the seating area on the small hill leading down to the trees and creek. Ben buttoned his coat as his breath frosted the air. Tiny snowflakes fell, drifting to the ground. He made his way to the railing, replaying one of a dozen different scenarios in his mind. If he didn’t choose the exact right one, Adelaide’s life might be forfeit.

  “Ben?” The figure farther down the wall called his name. She pushed back the hood from her face. Hair the color of sand with strands of gold caught the light from the nearly full moon, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. Penny.

  Ben sighed. He’d been so abrupt with her earlier, and he hadn’t even realized it until Harry had rebuked him later. “Miss May,” he said with a tug on his hat.

  She flinched at his formality. It was as if he’d slapped her with the words. Could he do nothing right today? “Penny,” he said, likely too late.

  She didn’t smile. In fact, she frowned at him as she pulled her coat closer around her. She took a deep breath before speaking. “If you’ve changed your mind about me, I’d prefer you tell me so rather than brushing me off.”

  Her words at
e at his heart. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, she continued.

  “I know I’m not the quiet, demure girl you’re likely used to. I understand if that’s what you prefer. All I ask is that you be honest with me.” She looked up at him, her face full of anguish.

  “Penny.” He wanted to reach for her hands, but she kept them tightly clamped to her sides. Instead, he shoved his into the pockets of his coat. “I am sorry, truly. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I was preoccupied, but that’s no excuse for the way I treated you. All I can do is ask for your forgiveness.”

  Her face was immovable for a moment. Then, she blinked at him and her lips parted just a bit. All he wanted to do was kiss her, but he knew that was out of the question, even though he’d almost crossed that line yesterday.

  “Do you mean that?”

  He nodded. He should say more. Perhaps tell her that he couldn’t be close to anyone because of the danger. He should end this—whatever it was—right now. But the words lodged in his throat.

  Her eyes shone even brighter and she swiped a hand across one of them. “Of course. I forgive you. I thought . . .”

  “What?” he prompted.

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Will you tell me now, though? About what you discovered?”

  He cringed as he remembered her asking at lunch. He couldn’t take back the way he’d acted toward her, but the least he could do was share the information he’d learned. “A man came to see me this morning. He’d been paid to deliver a message from Hagan. He’s changed the deadline, moved it up to Sunday, and he wants me to meet him—alone—with the money, at the base of the hill where we camped a few days ago.”

  “Is he bringing Adelaide?”

  “No.” A wave of rage flashed through Ben as he remembered the man’s words. “If everything goes as he asks, he’ll tell me where to find her.”