Was Hannah that woman? He didn’t know, but he was anxious to find out.
Chapter 6
Hannah jumped, startled by the knock at the door in the rooming house where she was spending the night before she had to report to the Grover mansion. Why, she couldn’t say, since she was expecting Kirby and a quick glance at her timepiece told her he was only a minute early.
She should never have agreed to have supper with him. Getting to know him was dangerous. Not physically, although she might have thought otherwise the night before, but definitely emotionally. She couldn’t afford to let herself to care about him more than she already did.
The moment she’d first opened her eyes after her fall and she’d seen his incredibly handsome face, she’d known he was a man who could break her heart if she let him.
His smile sent awareness shooting through her. Need settled low in her belly at the slightest touch of his skin against hers. And when he kissed her … Heavens, just the memory of it was making her tingle and her blood heat.
It was more than physical attraction, though. He was kind, and considerate, and she felt safe when she was with him. He was easy to talk to, something she’d never experienced with any other man. And if he was anything but a lawman, she’d be pleased to have finally found a man she could love.
The knock sounded again, louder this time. Even knowing in her heart that spending more time with Kirby was a mistake, she opened the door.
“There’s a gentleman here to see you.” Mrs. Fergusson, the white-haired woman who owned the house, smiled, her plump face creasing into folds. “A very nice-looking gentleman, I might add.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fergusson,” Hannah replied. “I’ll be right down.” She picked up a dark blue reticule that matched her dress, adjusted the feathery hat perched on her hair in the mirror above the dresser and then hurried down the stairs.
Her breath caught at the sight of him. He was incredibly handsome, even more so now that he’d obviously taken a bath and shaved. A whiff of a woodsy fragrance drifted to her nose.
“You look beautiful,” he said, giving her an appraising glance.
Heat flushed her cheeks. A long hot bath had worked wonders for her aching muscles, and at least now she felt clean again. She’d put on one of her favorite dresses, a dark blue gown with ruffles at the collar and cuffs, and a white ruffle around the hem. “Thank you,” she murmured. “So do you.”
His brows lifted and he grinned. “I look beautiful?”
“No … I meant … you look very …”
“Handsome? That’s the word you were going to say, wasn’t it?” he teased.
She chuckled. “Yes,” she agreed. “You look very handsome.”
“I clean up once in a while,” he told her. “Shall we go?” He opened the door and stepped aside to allow her to leave first.
When they stepped outside, he held out his arm. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Somehow it felt very comfortable to be out walking with him in the twilight.
The restaurant was intimate, and the meal was delicious. They talked, the topics ranging from art to history to horses and ranching. Hannah couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed in the company of a man. Still, she couldn’t help worrying that the evening was a mistake.
There was no doubt now that she was falling in love with him. And that this would have to be the last time she’d see him.
Night had fallen by the time they left the restaurant with only lamplight to guide them back to the rooming house.
Carriages rolled by. Couples and groups of friends strolled down the street, and much as Hannah knew she should be glad, she found she was disappointed to arrived at the rooming house.
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him. “I … thank you for supper …”
In the lamplight, the gold flecks in his eyes gleamed. “I hope this isn’t the last supper we’ll share,” he said.
She opened her mouth to tell him it would be, but she couldn’t force the words past the tightness in her throat at the thought she’d never see him again.
“How long will you be in Denver?” he asked.
“Two or three days, I think. No more than four.”
“I see. Once the trial is over, I do have some other business to take care of but I’ll call on you again when you’re back home.”
“Kirby, I—”
“Do you know how much I want to kiss you again right now?”
The desire in his voice sent a tingle coursing through her body.
“Since we’re in public, it would create a scandal, so I’ll restrain myself. Next time we’re alone, though …”
He may not have spoken the promise, but she was well aware of what he intended. Heat swirled through her veins at the thought, and her breath quickened. “How long do you think the trial will take?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but the evidence is strong, and with my testimony, it shouldn’t take much time for the jury to convict him. I’d say it’ll be over in a day or two. Then I’ll call on you on my way back to Cedar Valley. I want us to get to know each other better.”
He took her gloved hand and raised it to his lips. Even through the fabric, she could feel his heat. “Until next time,” he said.
Hannah couldn’t speak, couldn’t turn him down. Instead, all she could do was nod and climb the stairs. She glanced back to see him smiling, the promise in his eyes as she went inside and closed the door behind her.
The Grovers’ Rennaisance-style mansion sat high on a hill overlooking Silver City. The wealthiest family in the area, they owned the majority of the businesses in town, and Hannah considered herself very fortunate that she’d been asked to paint Mrs. Grover’s mother’s childhood home. The Grovers had a great deal of influence in this part of the territory, which could help her career tremendously.
She didn’t like to be away from her family and the ranch, but the compensation Mrs. Grover had offered her was more money than she’d earn in years back in Rocky Ridge, and it would go a long way toward helping Florence and Archie to expand the ranch. In some small way, she hoped it would repay them a little for taking her in and supporting her all these years after her mother died.
Hannah stood at her easel in the solarium, where leaded glass windows looked out over a vast green lawn. She studied the painting on the easel, trying to decide if she should add more detail to the roof of the house on the canvas. The photograph she’d used to create the painting was in shades of gray, and she wasn’t sure the colors she’d used were correct.
Her thoughts strayed back to Kirby’s pronouncement. She should be furious that he’d just decided to come and see her without even asking permission, but much as she tried, she couldn’t.
It had been three days since she’d seen him, yet she hadn’t been able to put him out of her mind. During the daylight hours, she’d kept herself busy working on the painting. The nights, however, were long.
On Hannah’s first trip to Silver City, she’d been given a bedroom in the Grover mansion that was larger than the whole house back at the Circle J. The four-poster bed had a down-filled mattress and was covered in silk linens and a heavy down-filled comforter.
Hannah had never had such luxurious sleeping quarters that she’d slept better than she ever had. This time, though, sleep eluded her. She lay awake each night watching the hands on the clock shift until finally she drifted off into a semi-awake state where Kirby’s face filled her mind. She could almost feel his lips on hers, his arms around her, his hard body pressed against hers. Then she’d wake, her skin tingling, her breathing shallow and quick, and her body aching.
“You seem distracted, dear.” Mrs. Grover’s soft Southern accent filtered into her thoughts.
Distracted, unfocused, scattered. Any of those words would be fitting. “Oh … I …”
“Is everything all right? You’re not still in pain from your accident, are you?”
Hannah had told Mrs. Grover about being thr
own from her horse when the woman had noticed the scrapes and bruises on her. Hannah shook her head. “No. I’m fine now unless I stand for too long.” Her scratches were healing well and soon, there would be no sign that she’d been hurt at all.
“Could it be a young man who’s the cause, then?” Mrs. Grover asked.
Hannah felt a flush rising in her cheeks.
Mrs. Grover chuckled. “I thought so.” She crossed the marble floor and stood beside Hannah. “I won’t pry, but if you need to talk …”
“Thank you, but it’ll all work out, I’m sure.” She had no idea how she and Kirby could work out their differences, but she didn’t feel comfortable getting into a discussion about it with her client.
The canvas on the easel was facing away from Mrs. Grover, so it was hidden from where she was standing. “May I see what progress you’ve made?” she asked, taking a few steps forward. Then she paused, waiting for Hannah to give her permission to come and look.
“Of course,” Hannah said with a smile. “I think it’s finished, unless you see something that isn’t right.”
Mrs. Grover rounded the easel, stopping in front and gazing at the canvas. Her eyes widened, and a hand rose to her lips. She didn’t say a word, just stared at it. Silence filled the room.
Hannah watched the expression on Mrs. Grover’s face, her nerves on edge. Were those tears in the woman’s eyes? Did she hate it so much that it made her cry?
Hannah’s heart dropped.
Then a moment later, Mrs. Grover looked at her and excitement her eyes glistened with excitement. “It’s perfect,” she gushed. “The way you’ve captured the colors, I can practically see the grass swaying in the summer breeze. I can’t tell you how happy I am. My mother will be thrilled.”
Hannah hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, waiting for Mrs. Grover’s approval. She let it out on a whoosh.
Mrs. Grover eyed her curiously. “Were you so worried I wouldn’t like your work?”
Hannah laughed softly. “To be honest, yes, I was. It’s important to me that my clients are pleased when I’m finished.”
“There’s no need to worry,” the woman said. “I love it, and I’ll be telling all my friends how talented you are.”
Hannah blushed again, but this time it was because of the compliment, not because she’d been caught thinking about Kirby.
“I’m sure you want to get home to your family,” Mrs. Grover said, moving toward the door. “I do have some errands to run this afternoon so while I’m out, I’ll go to the bank. If you don’t mind waiting until tomorrow to leave, I’ll have a bank draft for you when I get back.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Grover,” Hannah said. “I’m glad you’re satisfied.”
Mrs. Grover turned back and came to rest a hand on Hannah’s arm. “I couldn’t be happier with your work, dear. I suspect within a short time, you’ll be spending so much time in Silver City that you’ll have to move here permanently.” Then she turned and left the room.
Live in Silver City? She couldn’t imagine it. Hannah knew she should be thrilled by Mrs. Grover’s reaction to the painting, and she appreciated the woman’s enthusiasm and support. But leaving the ranch permanently? That was something she’d never even considered. Rocky Ridge was home, where her family was. Could she really be happy here? Alone?
And what about Kirby? She barely knew him, yet already, she couldn’t envision her life without him in it. Could she live here without Kirby? Her breath caught in her throat. The answer was simple. She couldn’t.
The man who’d been elected to be the jury foreman at Abel Cooper’s trial scrubbed at his beard for a moment before swallowed loudly and read the words on the piece of paper in his hand. “We find the defendant … guilty.”
The courtroom burst into chaos. Kirby watched as the color drained from Abel’s face and he slumped into the chair in the courtroom.
The judge began to speak, but Kirby didn’t need to hear anything else. The trial had taken longer than he’d expected, but finally, because of his testimony, justice was being served. Abel Cooper would likely hang for his crimes, but Kirby had no reason to stay for the sentencing.
He’d done his job, and now he had somewhere important to go. He stood and began weaving his way through the crowded courtroom.
“Matheson!”
Kirby spun around.
Abel Cooper glared at him, the hatred in his eyes almost palpable.
“You’re a dead man,” Abel’s scratchy voice shouted. The courtroom silenced. “But before you die, you’re going to know what it’s like to lose your brother the way I lost mine. And as for his wife and those daughters of his—”
Kirby didn’t need to hear the rest. “Shut up, Cooper!”
“And that little yellow-haired filly you’ve been with …” He grinned. Pure evil shone in his eyes.
Kirby’s heart skipped a beat. How had Abel heard about Hannah? The only person who was even aware of Hannah was the man who’d shot at him. Had Owen Cooper somehow managed to get word to Abel? He made a mental note to find out who’d visited Abel in the past few days.
Two men dragged Cooper away, his taunts still filling the air even after the door closed behind them.
Kirby scanned the spectators in the courtroom. Were some of them Cooper’s relatives? How else could he have found out about Hannah? Had he risked her life without even knowing?
He’d been anxious for the trial to be over so he could go back and call on Hannah, see if what he felt for her was real. He’d never given much thought to taking a wife, to having children, to having a family to grow old with until lately. It seemed that fate had brought Hannah to him at just the right time when he was already thinking about settling down.
If he’d met her a few years back, he was too young, too eager for adventure. But now … the time was right.
He wanted to go to Hannah today and tell her how he felt, ask her if she was willing to give them a chance. But first, he had to warn his brother about Owen Cooper.
Hannah snapped the ends off another string bean and tossed it into the bowl on the table. She was both annoyed and worried at the same time.
She’d been back at the Circle J for almost a week and still hadn’t heard from Kirby. Surely the trial was over by now, she thought, and if Kirby was really going to come calling, he should have been here by now.
She should be glad. And she was. At least that’s what she’d been telling herself since she left Silver City and rode back to the Circle J.
Still, she couldn’t get the thought out of her mind that something had happened, that he hadn’t stayed away just because he’d changed his mind.
The way he’d kissed her … He’d felt it, the connection between them.
No, she was sure he hadn’t changed his mind. Which meant only one thing. Something must have happened to him. Had Owen Cooper found him?
Her heart twisted inside her chest. Was he …? She couldn’t even bring herself to let the word into her brain.
Stop it! she admonished herself. He was just busy. He’d just been delayed. Nothing more. Surely if she kept telling herself that, she’d be fine.
So far, it hadn’t worked. She barely slept, her appetite was gone, and she couldn’t focus. Whenever she’d needed an escape from reality in the past, she’d been able to lose herself in her art. She’d go off with a pencil and paper and draw for hours, leaving the real word behind.
The day before, she’d gone back to the waterfall. This time, though, her fingers refused to listen to her brain.
Are you mad at those beans?” Florence’s voice reached her from where she was stirring a pot on the stove.
Hannah looked up. “What … oh …” She grinned, realizing she was throwing the beans into the bowl with a bit more force than was necessary.
“What’s wrong?” Florence asked. “You haven’t been yourself since you got back from Silver City.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Hannah replied, adding another bean to the bowl, gentl
er this time. “Really, I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to live in Silver City if you don’t want to,” Florence went on. “You can stay here as long as you want to. I hope you know that.”
Hannah had told Florence how pleased Mrs. Grover had been with the painting as well as her predictions for Hannah’s future. “I do, and I appreciate it.”
“That’s not it, though, is it?”
“What? It’s nothing.”
Florence set the spoon on a plate beside the stove and came to sit at the table. She reached out and squeezed Hannah’s hand. “I know what worry looks like, and what it feels like. You can deny it until the cows come home, but you know it’s true. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Florence had always been the one person in her life Hannah could confide in. Until now. Somehow Hannah couldn’t bring herself to tell her sister about her night in the cave with Kirby, about her brush with death. And most of all, about the kiss they’d shared.
Why she’d kept it to herself, she couldn’t say. It wasn’t that Florence would be shocked. In fact, she suspected Florence would be pleased to see that she and the marshal were more than friendly.
Hannah wanted to confide in Florence that she thought she might be falling in love with Kirby, but she knew her sister wouldn’t understand why she’d be so conflicted about it.
But Florence hadn’t had to watch her mother die a little more every day after her father died. Florence hadn’t had to listen to her mother’s sobs every night as she lay in bed dealing with her own grief. And Florence hadn’t failed to give her mother a reason for living again because the man she’d loved – the lawman she’d loved – had died.
No, she had to keep it to herself. That kiss had changed everything, and she couldn’t explain it to Florence when she hadn’t made sense of it herself. How could one kiss make a person start dreaming about weddings, and babies, and … other things no decent single woman should be thinking about?
Gunsmoke and Gingham Page 34