First Class Male

by Jillian Hart

  “Try not to be disappointed, dearie.” Mariel upended the last basin of hot water into the soaking tub. Her bright red hair tumbled down from her up knot in ringlet curls, her face round and apple-cheeked, her dove-gray day gown showcasing her compact figure. “Look at it this way. You dodged a bullet not marryin’ that one.”

  “I did.” She thought of the gentle, ardent letters Earl had written her. He’d put so much effort into those words, he’d explained, trying to portray the man he truly was and how much he already cared for her. Sitting on a bench by a lovely Cheval mirror, Callie let out a painful sigh. Come to think of it, Earl had tried too hard in his letters. “He wasn’t the man he said he was.”

  “Men can be deceptive even when you’re lookin’ them right in the eye.” Mariel shook the last droplets from the basin and set it on the floor, her good-natured cheer shining like the sun through the small window. “I’ve known a lot of men, and so I feel qualified to judge the good doctor. He’s not the upstanding gentleman he tries so hard to be, believe you me. His late wife, God rest her, was the unhappiest woman I ever laid eyes on.”

  “I can believe that now.” She stared down at her bare feet, remembering Earl dismissing her as if she were worthless. He made her feel worthless. The part of her that was angry and hurting at his rejection wanted to take a broom to him, but another part of her was relieved. He’d talked down to her, he’d looked at her as if she were the worst sort of loose lady, selling her body for pennies when it wasn’t close to true and he knew it. She shrugged. “My heart isn’t as broken as my dreams. My dreams are shattered.”

  “Sometimes that hurts worse.” Her voice warm with understanding, Mariel snapped the ruffled red calico curtains closed. “You’ll feel better after a nice hot bath. I can’t imagine how frightened you had to be, tied up by those men. I’ll see if I can’t borrow a dress your size from one of the other boarders.”

  “I hate to trouble anyone.” Callie thought of her satchel so lovingly packed, left stowed beneath the train seat. Where was it now? Surely gone for good, all that careful sewing she’d done. “Thank you, Mariel.”

  “My pleasure, darlin’.” The matronly woman set white fluffy towels on a small table next to the tub. “You can worry about it later. You just relax, then wash off all the bad memories, leave them right in the water. Don’t you worry about what happened anymore. It’s a good future you are deservin’, and I’ll do my best to help you with that.”

  Kindness. The unexpected power of it brought tears to Callie’s eyes. “I can’t tell you what that means.”

  “What goes around comes around.” Mariel stalked across the room, sweet as an apple dumpling. “I help you, you help someone else. It makes for a better world. I’ll be back, dear.”

  Warmly, Mariel smiled, bustled out the door and closed it firmly behind her.

  Alone in the cheerful little necessary room, Callie let out a long, pent up breath. Hard to believe twenty-four hours ago she’d been blissfully dancing around the shanty with her sisters, so excited about catching the train and finding her dreams. My, how those dreams died. She thought of the husband she’d lost—apparently the dream of him was better than the reality, but still. It hurt. And she’d never been alone before. She’d always had her sisters near.

  I told you so, Emma would be the first to say if she knew.

  Too bad, but you can do better, Abby would have said with that twinkle of mischief in her eye.

  I could kick him in the shins for you, Dee would cheerfully offer, although she’d never hit anyone or anything in her life.

  And Maggie would have wrapped her in a sisterly hug, hurting for her in sympathy.

  Yes, Callie thought, her chest aching. She really missed her sisters.

  Alone, she rose to her feet, unbuttoned the baggy shirt and trousers and stepped into the slipper-shaped tub. Hot, soothing water lapped around her calves, almost to her knees. She’d never been in a real soaking tub before. At home they had a big round basin tub so this was sheer and utter luxury. The tension in her tired, beaten muscles unknotted as she laid back and the steamy water lapped along her skin.

  She closed her eyes and the image of the marshal’s chest flashed in her mind. Why? She couldn’t say. It was the first man’s bare naked chest she’d ever seen, so she didn’t have any other images to compare it to, but those smooth, tanned planes and muscular contours dusted with dark hair were simply stunningly spectacular. Perhaps the next time she went in search of a husband, she’d put magnificent chest on her list of desirable man requirements.

  “Knock, knock.” Mariel’s voice sounded on the other side of the door a split second before it swung open. “How’s the water temperature?”

  “Perfect.” Callie could feel her bones melting, that’s how relaxed she was. Maybe she’d add, owns a nice tub, on that desirable man list too.

  “Lena is about your size, she’s in the corner room next to yours,” Mariel explained, setting down an armload of clothing on the bench by the mirror. “And here’s a cup of coffee for you. I didn’t know how you took it, but I put in two sugars and a dollop of cream.”

  “Cream?” That was a luxury too. Callie smiled, reaching out to take the ironware mug Mariel brought over. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

  “It’s why I’m here.” Mariel winked, merry as could be, and pivoted on one heel, marching away. “Got things to do, people to take care of. When you’re done up here, come straight downstairs, the kitchen is in the back. I’ll whip you up a breakfast you won’t soon forget.”

  “It’s hard to argue with that.” Callie watched the door close and sank back, letting her head rest against the upper side of the tub. She could soak here forever, or at least until the water went chilly. No, it would be wonderful to stay right here relaxed in the deliciously hot water forever, so she wouldn’t have to ever think about the bad, terrifying moments behind her or face the uncertainty of what was to come next in her life.

  Earl was right. After being taken by kidnappers, her reputation was ruined. Her virtue was in question, and it didn’t matter that she wasn’t violated. What mattered was that she could have been, that she’d spent a span of time unchaperoned with rough men. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, but that was society. People liked to judge, they liked to deem who was acceptable and who wasn’t, perhaps for their own self-assurance.

  But her reputation was destroyed. There was no question about that. It was hard to say if there was a decent man who would want her now. And, after this experience with Earl, she wanted more than a decent man. Much, much more. Someone noble and honorable. Someone who always did the right thing. A man with a butter-rum baritone that rumbled low when he was kind, that boomed with protective authority when she was in danger.

  The marshal’s handsome granite face popped into her mind. She didn’t want to speculate why. Perhaps it was a tad bit of hero worship. Or, maybe it simply boiled down to the remarkable sight of him without a shirt. A girl couldn’t erase that from her mind even if her life depended on it.

  Next time, she was going to be very careful who she gave her heart to. She wouldn’t just hand it over to anyone, even some moderately handsome doctor who had a way with words. No, she didn’t want to be fooled again. The next time she let herself dream, it would be with a man who could deliver.

  Chapter Four

  Mason couldn’t get Callie out of his mind. He pushed away from his desk, crossed the office and headed straight to the coffeepot. With his brow furrowed and his mouth tucked in a somber frown, he probably looked like a man mulling over how best to capture the remaining members of the Folsom Gang. But really he was trying to figure out why he’d reacted to Callie the way he did. Why did he like her when he hadn’t gone out of his way to like any woman in the past nine years? What was different about her?

  “I ain’t happy about it either,” Pauly said, his wounded arm patched up and in a sling. “Why Ann had to go and get married, I don’t know. Who’s gonna pour our coffee a
round here? That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “You didn’t break both arms.” Deeks tossed a wry grin and grabbed another cup off the shelf while he was at it and filled both with the pot from the stove. “I’ll do it this once, seeing as the doc had to dig out that bullet and sew you up. Gotta be smart enough to dodge those things, buddy.”

  “The doc or the bullet?” Pauly asked, laughing.

  Mason couldn’t crack a smile. At the thought of the doc, who’d sauntered in earlier as carefree as you please, looking as if he hadn’t destroyed some nice lady’s dream, Mason’s hands had fisted. He’d had to sit on them to keep from smashing them into that no-good lying excuse of a man’s face.

  Oh, he knew plenty about Earl Reynolds, and the good doctor was a bad man. Earl had no right exchanging letters with Callie, pretending to be virtuous. While maybe it had worked out for the best, that didn’t make it right. Now that poor lady was trapped here in Clark Creek.

  Well, maybe he’d have to do something about that. Mason’s chest warmed against his will as he headed toward the stove.

  “You look fit to kill.” Clint looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk. “You must be mad about Lew Folsom getting away.”

  “Course I am.” That was true too. He ground his molars together, jaw clenched, nudged Deeks aside to fetch a mug from the shelf. “As soon as we can transfer custody of the gang members we do have, we’ll be free to hunt down the rest of them.”

  “Oh.” Tom looked up from his desk, surprised. He’d been on the raid too. “I just figured we’d rest up, pack up and get back on their trail.”

  “That would be ideal.” He held the cup, nodding in thanks as Deeks poured. “But I don’t want to leave this jail under defended. Lew Folsom is talented with dynamite and so we’ll pull double duty just to make sure he doesn’t pay us a visit.”

  The back of his neck tingled, another sign of warning. Did it have to do with the Folsom Gang? Was more trouble on the way? Then he spotted a different sort of trouble outside the door. Callie Carpenter, pretty as a lark in a light yellow calico dress, her golden hair pinned up on her head, falling in soft curls. His pulse simply stopped, just stalled out right there as he nearly dropped his coffee cup. Hell, he’d never seen anything as amazing.

  “Woo wee,” Tom breathed in appreciation. “That wouldn’t be her, would it?”

  “The one Mason rescued?” Pauly gulped. “That surely is her all gussied up. Look at her.”

  “She cost us the capture.” Deeks shook his head. Hard to say if he was joking or not. “That’s a woman for you. She’s the reason Lew and his men got away.”

  “She’s worth it.” No doubt about that, Mason thought as he set his cup on the nearest desk—Tom’s—not really watching what he was doing. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the enchanting beauty opening the door.

  “Hi.” Callie waltzed in like the breeze, bringing the summer with her. The air felt sweeter, the sunshine brighter. She glanced around, a little shy in front of so many strangers, but when her violet-blue gaze found his, she smiled in greeting. It was like a bullet to his chest. The impact rocked him, made him wish he was a different man, a better man.

  “Callie.” He went to her, his boots already taking him forward, without a thought. “I see Mariel is taking care of you.”

  “I’m properly clothed, that’s an improvement.” She blushed, perhaps aware that every man in this room had done his best not to look at her bare legs when she’d settled down at the campfire last night, but surely every man had peeked anyway. He surely had. She clasped her slender hands together. “I was hoping to find out if there was any word about my satchel left on the train. Or my reticule, by chance. Maybe it turned up?”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Mason towered over her, doing his best not to stare at her too hard. She was incredible, so lovely she hurt the eyes with her softly rounded chin, just so dear, her face like porcelain and her eyes, so vivid in color and authenticity. Her heart shone in them.

  “I guess I already knew that,” she confessed. “But I was hoping.”

  “Right, you had to check. We figure Lew Folsom grabbed the loot when he ran. As for the satchel, you’d need to check with the town sheriff about that. He handles the trouble here in town, we handle the county and territorial crime.” He reached for his hat hanging on a wall hook, donned it and held the door for her. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “I think I saw the sheriff’s office on my way over.” She crossed the threshold, skirts rustling, squinting against the blazing sun. “You don’t have to bother escorting me.”

  “You are not a bother.” He closed the door behind him, his manner easy-going and less imposing than last night. Today, he’d traded black for blue. Denim trousers, sky blue shirt. The color brought out the baby-blue tone of his eyes. His dark hair fell over his collar, a bit too long for polite society. “We’ll just mosey over and talk with the sheriff. I figure after what you’ve been through, you’ve got to feel shy around strange men.”

  “I wish I could deny it.” She gave a shrug, falling in stride beside him down the boardwalk. While she did feel shy, that wasn’t the true issue. Across the dusty street, she spotted a cluster of women, crowded together in front of a dry goods store, whispering and pointing in her direction.

  And that wasn’t the worst of it. On her way to Mason’s office, two different men had tipped their hats to her, leering at her in a most disturbing way, as if she were pedaling her privates. She’d felt dirty, exposed and vulnerable. Her chest felt tight, making it hard to breathe.

  “I’ll stay with you, that way you’ll feel more comfortable.” Mason tipped his hat at a man tying up his horse at a hitching post and kept walking. “I was going to drop in on you anyway. See how you are settling in.”

  “Mariel has been truly generous.” She thought of the simple but comfortable bedroom she’d been given, as clean as could be. “She’s treated me like family. It makes it easier, being away from home.”

  “Tell me about your family.” His voice dipped low, genuinely interested, making her midsection tingle.

  She dismissed those tingles. Maybe they were something innocent, like the fact that it was nice being around a sincere, honest man, she thought. What was interesting was that no man had made her tingle before.

  “I have four sisters.” She tried not to notice the woman who stepped out of a cobbler shop onto the boardwalk in front of her, tried not to notice the look of astonishment and then disapproval. Callie’s face heated as the woman looked her up and down, and hoped Mason didn’t notice. Just act as if that didn’t happen, she thought, and keep going. “Our parents died when we were small, so we grew up in an orphanage. We were lucky to be able to stay together, so that was a good thing.”

  “You must be very close to your sisters, since they are your only family.” Again, that sincerity. Somehow that made the man even more attractive.

  More tingles shivered through her abdomen. Interesting. She frowned, a little perplexed. “Yes, we’ve been as thick as thieves until I decided to go off and find a husband.”

  “Why?” He cast a sideways glance at her, the corner of his mouth hooked up in a curious grin. “Any man with half a brain would be smart to snatch you up on sight. Are there only stupid men where you are from?”

  “Why yes, they are stupid. How did you know?” She laughed, not that it was true about the stupid part, but he’d made her feel unexpectedly better. “No, honestly, Holbrook is such a little town with only a handful of shops. It’s rural, and I wasn’t interested in the few farmers who live nearby.”

  “I see.” He strolled along, considering her story thoughtfully.

  He was a man who knew how to listen, Callie thought. It was really hard not to like him even more. He clearly had many other fine attributes to go along with his magnificent chest.

  “Here we are.” His baritone cut into her thoughts, and she blushed, because she could not stop thinking about his chest.

  Mason lean
ed in to open the door, his shirtsleeve brushing her shoulder. The tingles shimmering in her stomach seemed to travel, making her feel tingly everywhere.

  Hmm, very curious. She’d never felt anything like this before. Callie swept past him, crossing over the threshold and into the sheriff’s office, aware of the heat radiating off Mason’s muscle-hard body. Once again, the image of his chest bared and gleaming in the firelight returned in full-force, making her stumble, making her a little breathless.

  “Bart.” Mason tipped his hat as he followed her through the door, giving a chin jut of greeting. “Did you get my message about the Folsom Gang?”

  “Yep. Got half my deputies out keeping watch. I noticed your men are doing the same.” A man with thick silver hair and a sharp, take-no-prisoners gaze rose from behind a large desk. His leather vest bore his tin sheriff’s badge, his red muslin shirt hinted at a muscled form. Clearly he was a man who may have aged but hadn’t lost his strength. Bart strolled around his desk. “Is this the lady?”

  Mason nodded. “This is Miss Carpenter.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, Miss.” Bart nodded once, respect and sympathy warming his dark gaze. “Glad you’re here safe and sound. I want you to know my office is coordinating with Mason’s. We’ll bring those outlaws in. I hear they got away with all your money.”

  “That’s right, but that’s not why I’m here.” She smoothed a wrinkle in the borrowed dress she wore. “I know it’s a long shot, but I was hoping someone may have turned in my satchel from the train?”

  “Sorry, nothing like that has come in.” Bart did look genuinely apologetic.

  “Well, all right.” She shrugged, resigned. “I just had to check.”

  “Sure.” The sheriff nodded. “You might try over at the depot. Maybe someone turned it in there.”

  “My men already asked,” Mason cut in, lightly touching Callie’s shoulder. She responded, offering a small smile before turning away. That smile dug deep into him, trying to burrow past his defenses. He watched her swish through the open door and into the dusty day and the sun’s heat. He followed her onto the boardwalk with a frown.