"I reckon." He hoped he could. "The door unlocked?"
Fykes nodded. "Your old room's vacant. All the girls are new since you was here before, so they won't have any idee who you are.”
"A safe place to rest would sure be welcome.” The thought of a place to sleep, a familiar place with reasonably clean sheets and a lock on the door gave him hope.
"You can hole up at The Lucky 'til you can travel. I owe that much to Cal and Roxie. Still and all, you keep out of sight if’'n you want to stay dead to old john law."
"Thanks." Nate set his hat firmly on his head, brim pulled low. "That won't help these festerin' wounds, though."
"I'll send Ruby up to look after you. She's good at patchin' people up."
Nate pushed himself off the bench. "Yeah? Hope she does better with me than she must have with Cal and Roxie."
* * *
The morning after the funeral, Sarah opened her eyes to Margaret Vermillion waving a folded paper in her face.
"Wake up, Sarah,” she insisted. “Wake up. They've run away."
Sarah sat up in bed and rubbed sleep from her eyes. She tried to focus on what her hostess said while the woman paced back and forth waving her arms in distress.
Margaret said, "I can't imagine what got into Harold. He's usually so dependable. Of course, Lily always was impetuous. That's what happened to her the first time when she married Wes Stephens instead of Harold."
"Who's run away where?" Sarah asked around a yawn.
"Lily, that's who.” Margaret stamped her foot and waved the paper. "Will you listen, Sarah? Lily and Harold have eloped. They left us this letter, but they're on their way to Boston to be married."
"What? That can't be.” Sarah slid from bed, grabbed her wrapper, and stepped into slippers.
"Read for yourself." Margaret thrust the letter at her.
She took the sheet of paper and read.
Dear Margaret, Walter, and Sarah,
I can't let love pass me by a second time. Please try to understand. Harold and I belong together. After our two-week honeymoon, we'll live in St. Louis near his children. I'm sorry to leave you on your own, Sarah, but I'm sure Margaret and Walter will find an escort home for you. Give my love to our family and be happy for me,
Lily
Sarah sat on the edge of the bed, her mind reeling. "My stars, it's true. Who would have thought Lily would ever do something so unconventional?"
"Selfish as usual, you mean.” Margaret flushed and waved a hand of dismissal. "I know she's your adopted aunt and one of my oldest and dearest friends, but you have to admit she's totally self-centered. Always has been."
"I'm glad she's found happiness after all these years. She waited so long.”
Though she sought to remain calm in the face of Lily's surprising news, Sarah's mind whirled with reactions.
Relief flooded her. No more constant censure from Lily. No more reminders of her lowly beginnings and her shortcomings.
Panic gripped her. Who would act as her companion on the trip home? What would Grandpa and Drake and Pearl think? Surely they wouldn't blame her. What would she tell them?
Oh, what did it matter, anyway? Now she was free to hire a pleasant traveling companion and enjoy her trip back to Texas.
"You're a lovely girl to take this so well.” Margaret pursed her lips in thought. "The Welborns are leaving next week to visit their daughter in Houston. Perhaps you could travel with them."
Sarah remembered the Welborns from a dinner party and suppressed a shudder. Mr. Welborn's sly glances made her skin crawl. "No.” She caught herself and added, "Please, don't trouble yourself. It's not necessary. I'll hire a companion. There are always advertisements in the newspaper for women who want to make a journey West."
Margaret patted Sarah on the arm. "Now, don't you worry your pretty head a bit. You go on about settling your business and Walter will make all the arrangements. Are you certain you don't need him to go with you today?"
"No!” She spoke too quickly again and the word sounded harsh. She sought to soothe the effect. "Mama had all the details arranged. Her solicitor is meeting me to make certain everything is in order. It's just a formality before I turn over the deed to Mr. Fykes."
"Well, I'll send Jonathan with you when you get your mother's things, just in case.”
Sarah sighed. She hated having Margaret's son tagging after her all day. Jonathan Vermillion was about as useful as a parasol in a hurricane, but she wouldn't insult her hostess. Oh, why couldn't she stand up for herself and insist on making her own arrangements?
***
The paddleboat glided along the current toward Memphis. Compared to her train ride from Texas, the slower pace of the water vessel allowed Sarah time to speculate on the lives of people in the houses dotting the shoreline and fueled her active imagination. She pulled her new black shawl around her shoulders and wished for her thick cape against the cool night air. At least her black bombazine traveling suit had long sleeves to ward off the chill.
A light breeze carried a blend of odors from the big paddle wheeler and the Mississippi River it cruised. The almost tangible fishy scent of the water and the mud and weeds along the shore blended with the smells of the boat. Her tongue tasted the moisture in the air, but she didn't know if this meant a promise of rain or came from being on the water.
Living near the Pedernales River in Texas had not prepared her for navigating the great Mississippi River. The steady movement of the paddle wheeler plowing through the water lulled her. She lost track of how long she stood at the rail, and started when Mr. Welborn brushed against her.
"Enjoying the trip?" he asked.
She stepped away. He smelled of cigar smoke and whiskey. She liked neither. In spite of their travel together, she still felt uneasiness toward Mr. Welborn. "Yes. This is a lovely way to travel."
"It could be even nicer." He edged near. "You slip me into your stateroom tonight when I tap on your door and I'll make it plumb delightful.” His arm brushed against her breast as he leaned forward.
She moved away again. "You insult me, sir, and your wife." Sarah looked around, hoping other passengers were near. Hatred rose like bile in Sarah’s throat. Her instincts about him had proved correct.
He pressed forward. "Now, now, I know all about your mother. Been to Roxie's place a few times, had me some fun with her girls there.”
Sarah stepped toward the nearest door, the one that led to the dining salon, but he grabbed her arm. She tried to pull from his grasp. "My mother ran a business. I'm sorry she had to deal with men like you, but it has nothing to do with me.”
"Don't play the outraged virgin, missy. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” He jerked her toward him.
"Why, you odious man. How would you like it if I told your wife about this?" She tried to pull free, but he held tight.
"She knows about your mother and wouldn't believe the likes of you. You cooperate with me, or I'll tell the captain you propositioned me." His foul breath fanned her face.
"Tell him whatever you wish. I wouldn't cooperate with you if I had to swim home.” Sarah tried once more to pull away.
Timid she might be, but she was far from defenseless. Her brother, Storm, had taught her to protect herself against unwanted advances. She stamped hard on Mr. Welborn's foot and elbowed him in his considerable gut, kicked him in his other shin, and rushed away. He was lucky she didn't take time to disable him completely. She heard muttered curses as she stepped into the light of the large salon and pulled the door closed behind her.
On deck, Nate stepped from the shadows. When Welborn turned to follow Sarah, Nate stepped in front of him.
"Far too nice a night to go inside, don't you agree?"
"Get out of my way. I'll fix that brassy little chit. I'll call her out to the captain in front of everyone.” Welborn put out a hand to shove Nate's arm.
Nate stood firm. "I think not.” At Welborn's surprised glare, he added, "Not unless you want to swim the rest of
the way with a grappling hook tied to your neck."
"Say, who do you think you are?" Welborn's weasel-like eyes widened and he stepped back.
Nate advanced a step. "I'm no one. No one at all. But I'll be watching that young woman. If anything happens to her, you will be blamed. And I will personally see that you regret it--and that your wife knows what I just saw and heard. I can assure you, she will believe me.” He leaned forward, towering over the portly older man. "Treat Miss Kincaid with respect and courtesy or join the fish. You understand?"
"Y--yes.” Welborn nodded, his eyes wide with fear. "No need to get upset."
"See you remember.” Nate turned and entered the salon.
Now what possessed him to defend the woman in possession of the inheritance rightfully due him? From what he'd seen, she could take care of herself. He credited disdain for Welborn and his type for his actions against the man.
He saw Miss Pure-And-Simple Sarah Kincaid across the room standing next to Mrs. Welborn. She twisted a handkerchief in her hands and looked the prim wallflower. Bright spots of color still decorated her cheeks, but otherwise her pale skin against black clothing emphasized the impact of her encounter with Welborn. She looked ready to pass out now the crisis had passed.
Deliberately controlling his pace to an amble, he stopped a couple of feet from where she stood. He ignored her and spoke to her companion. "Isn't there a musicale tonight?"
"What? Oh, yes," Mrs. Welborn said. "It will begin in a few moments."
Too much rode on this to take any chances. He feared using his true last name. Sarah, as he had come to think of her, might connect the last name with Cal and find it more than a coincidence. In fact, he figured he'd better come up with a name he'd never used. He smiled, hoping inspiration would strike. As always, deception came easy.
"I'm Nathaniel Barton. Perhaps you and your sister will allow me to find seats for you."
The woman preened at his timeworn flattery. "This is our traveling companion, Miss Kincaid. I'm Mrs. Welborn."
"Let's take these seats right over here, ladies.” As he stepped behind them, he put a hand at the waist of each woman. Sarah wore a money belt, just as he'd thought. Her jacket almost hid the tell-tale bulge above her small waistline.
Mrs. Welborn fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Oh, we must save a seat for my husband. He stepped out on deck for a bit of air."
Nate watched Sarah's face harden into a mask. Her fingers worked harder at the black-bordered white linen square. She would reduce her handkerchief to shreds before evening's end if she continued twisting it.
He maneuvered the ladies so Sarah sat between him and Mrs. Welborn with the empty seat on the other side of Mrs. Welborn. "How are you finding the journey, Miss Kincaid?"
She looked straight ahead rather than at him, but answered, "It's been...eventful."
She turned her face to his. The full impact of her large lavender-blue eyes hit him. Good Lord. If she'd smiled at the same time, he would have melted like a pool of wax at her feet. On second thought, part of him was growing, not melting. He adjusted his posture to conceal the front of his britches.
Welborn's face when he saw Nate sitting with the two women was worth the price of several boat tickets. The man almost stumbled, but regained his composure and pasted a false smile on his lips.
"Well, well, I see I'm back in time for the show."
"Clyde, this is Mr. Barton. Mr. Barton, my husband.”
Nate pushed down a laugh and smiled his brightest. This was the most fun he'd had in a month. Damned if he wasn't enjoying himself.
Nate spoke to Mrs. Welborn, "Mr. Welborn and I met earlier in the evening. You folks going far?"
Mrs. Welborn said, "We're going to Houston, Texas, to visit our daughter and her family."
The lights dimmed and the musicians launched into the evening's program. He flashed a warning glare to Welborn before he nodded at Mrs. Welborn. "I wish you a safe journey."
Chapter Two
When the music ended, Welborn stood. "Say, Barton, several of us have a card game scheduled. Care to join in?"
"Let me see the ladies safely to their cabins first. I'll be back in time for the second hand."
"There's no need, Mr. Barton.” Sarah stiffened her spine.
As far as he could tell, most times it needed a little starch in it. Her creamy satin skin, on the other hand, needed only his touch.
"Nonsense, Miss Kincaid. I would never forgive myself if you encountered any unpleasantness because I had been remiss in my duties as a gentleman."
Mrs. Welborn leaned on his arm. "It's very kind of you. We're through here on the next deck."
To avoid any suspicion of impropriety, he deposited Sarah first, then her traveling companion. But now he knew in which space Sarah stayed, where his money and jewelry were kept.
Damned if she wasn't wearing his mother's ring on the trip. It was all he could do not to say something when she took off her gloves at intermission and he saw the rubies on her hand. That very ring was the reason he and his father had the fight that parted them. Cal gave it to Roxie against Nate's protests when the two decided to wed.
His mother had been a genteel lady. The fact that her family disowned her for marrying a gambler didn't change that. The ring should have stayed in the family. He vowed the ring was coming back to him with his share of the money from the sale of The Lucky Times Palace. And his mother's other jewelry as well.
Words he'd said about Roxie to his father haunted him. She had always treated him square. Maybe Roxie wasn't born a lady, but she tried to act as much like one as her job and life allowed. He wished again he could have told her he was sorry, could have told his father the same.
Too bad Roxie got consumption.
Too bad Cal got shot.
Too bad Nate got left out in the cold--again.
But this time he would get his own back. This time he wouldn't let anyone stand in his way, no matter how tempting the morsel. And Miss Butter-Wouldn't-Melt-In-Her-Mouth Sarah Kincaid was as tempting a morsel as he'd ever met.
***
Sarah hurried up the hotel stairs behind the porter, happy to escape while the Welborns still sorted their bags and complained about the trip, their room, and the crowds. How Sarah would love to be rid of the couple forever. Mr. Welborn had made no further advances toward her on the trip, hardly spoke to her, which was fine with her. When he did speak, his face pinched up as if he smelled something foul.
Mrs. Welborn prattled on and on in the most tedious way. Her endless stories of past social events centered around herself, except for her occasional remarks intended to insult Sarah and her mother. Sarah turned to look down the stairs to see if she had truly escaped the tiresome couple and gasped.
That man in black--he'd introduced himself as Nathaniel Barton--had been at the cemetery. He was always around on the boat, too, and now he was here in their hotel in Memphis. He trailed behind her as if he hadn't a care in the world. Surely it was coincidence. Lots of people traveled from St. Louis to Memphis every day.
The porter stopped in front of a room and opened the door. He stood back for her to enter, but not before she saw Mr. Barton at the next door. He even glanced her way and smiled as he nodded his head in greeting.
My stars, he's staying in the very next room to mine.
What kind of hotel would allow a single man on the same floor as a single woman? She fought down panic as she dealt with the porter, then locked the door behind him and slid the bolt. Alone in her room, her imagination ran its course as she paced. Had she strayed into a den of iniquity?
No, that couldn't be. Mrs. Welborn assured her this was a family hotel suitable for a young woman. After all, the Welborns registered here, too. How did Mr. Barton come to be in the very room next to her? It wasn't proper. What would people think? What would they say?
She caught herself. The Welborns were the only people here she knew, and she hardly cared what they thought other than their reports back to the Vermill
ions and Aunt Lily. Even they could hardly blame her for the hotel's room assignments.
This Mr. Barton could not mean her harm. There'd been ample opportunity on the paddle wheeler had he intended to hurt her. They'd never had a conversation on a personal level. His comments had centered on the trip and the weather, not a hint of anything improper and always with others nearby. Perhaps his constant presence was a coincidence. Just the same, he made her nervous. She felt like a rabbit waiting for the wolf to pounce whenever Mr. Barton was near.
In the midst of her concern, she admitted his presence offered reassurance to her that she was protected from others. Surely he would rush to her aid if she needed assistance. Her instincts proved right regarding Mr. Welborn. Perhaps she should rely on intuition in this instance. She wished she were more decisive, not a victim of warring emotions.
She raised her skirt and checked the little double-shot derringer given her by her brother, Storm. Best to be prepared. The little gun still rested securely in its garter holster on her thigh. Storm had insisted she practice until she was a fair shot. Would she have the courage to use the weapon against a human? She doubted it, but its weight reassured her.
Sarah spied the door connecting her room with the one in which Mr. Barton resided. Rushing to check the lock, she stopped. She must not let him know she suspected him of following her. Very slowly she turned the knob of the connecting door. Locked. She released a heavy sigh.
Curiosity nudged her. Kneeling, she peered through the keyhole. The opening framed him as he pulled a fresh shirt from an open valise on the bed. Shucking his jacket and waistcoat, he took a pistol from his waistband and placed it on the bed beside the satchel. He unbuttoned his shirt.
She knew she should move away but couldn't. Oh, my stars! He might dress like a riverboat dandy, but this gorgeous man was no weakling. Trouser fabric pulled taut against trim hip muscles when he turned and bent over the things on the bed.
Her mouth went dry as a Texas dust storm. She watched him turn back to face her. He removed his shirt and tossed it behind him on the bed. Then she saw the bandage across his shoulder and another at his waist. She wondered which side of the law he was on when he got those, but thought she knew. The wrong side, of course.
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