The Bounty Hunter Page 8

  “I’m not ashamed of what I do, Sheriff. It’s more shameful to rely on a man for your next meal and a roof over your head than it is to control your own life.”

  “But you do rely on men, lots of them,” he replied. “The Shady Lady wouldn’t be in business if it wasn’t for men.”

  “Wrong.” She faced him with angry passion in her eyes and conviction in her expression. “I rely on customers, the same as Wade Reed and Howard Shaw and Amos Douglas. I choose who sets foot in my doors and I set the rules for their behavior while they’re inside. I am not the one sleeping with a man to keep my so-called respectable place in their home. Which of us are truly whoring ourselves, Sheriff?”

  He stared at her, the accuracy of her statement sinking in. Again, he’d never thought that much about the plight of women. And he damned well wasn’t sure he liked it now that she’d made him think—made him see things he didn’t like. Things he knew weren’t fair.

  “I know how to deal with men,” she told him, intensity in her voice. “You call them out. You see yourself as an equal, and you make them see you that way, too. But those women?” She gestured in the direction the singers had gone and shook her head. “I don’t know how to deal with them. They don’t look at themselves honestly. They’re living in some sort of fairy-tale world where they’re good and every one else is evil.”

  She glanced up at the dark heavens, and he studied her profile against the luminous gas lamps. Her delicate beauty belied a strength and conviction she didn’t bother to hide.

  She looked back at him then. “Real evil is a person controlling another person’s will and life and livelihood, man or woman.”

  He saw what she was talking about, and her insight scared the hell out of him. Right here, right now, she made more sense than anyone he’d met in this town so far.

  “My job is to keep the peace, Miss Lily, not to pass judgment.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that. Because passing judgment based on ignorance or narrow-mindedness is wrong.” She observed him a moment in the light from the doorway, and the tension seemed to seep out of her. “Come in and finish your drink.”

  He followed her inside, where the activity had reverted to normal after the display for the Women’s Temperance Prayer League. They finished their rye and cider drinks, and Nate thanked her before moving on. “I’d better wander back to the Big Nugget and make sure the women didn’t cause a ruckus.”

  Lily nodded a goodbye.

  Before the evening wound down, Nate ended up with two drunks in cells. He’d hauled them in after one had broken a chair over the other’s head in a disagreement over a card game at the Three Moon Palace.

  Sometime after midnight both prisoners were snoring soundly, so he locked up and made his way toward the boarding house.

  A sound caught his attention, and he noticed a woman walking toward the livery. Recognizing Lily’s curly hair, he followed.

  She entered the livery, and minutes later the door opened again. She led out a horse, mounted deftly and rode away from town.

  Was there trouble? Nate decided to follow to see where she was headed, so he quickly saddled his roan. She was only a few minutes out, and the moon was bright enough to catch up and keep her in sight without getting so close that she would hear him.

  What was she up to? What reason did she have to ride out so late at night? Either something was wrong or she was up to no good, and damned if he wasn’t unnaturally curious as to which.

  He followed a trail along a valley that led to a stream bubbling in the otherwise-silent night. Ahead Lily dismounted and tied her horse to a bush, then disappeared along the bank.

  Belatedly, Nate wondered if she was meeting a man. Why would she find the need to hide the encounter unless the man was married and didn’t want to be seen with her?

  He slid from his mount and held his hand over the roan’s nostrils, so it wouldn’t smell the other horse right off and whinny. Silently he hobbled the animal and crept forward.

  The horse she’d ridden shook its head at his approach, and he quieted it with a whisper and by rubbing its neck.

  Nate moved forward, making his way around trees and bushes. He came upon a flat rock where the green dress she’d been wearing lay in a heap. Without thinking, he reached out and touched the slick, cool fabric.

  At the contact, a buzz started in his head. Immediately he glanced around for a man’s clothing. She had come to meet someone. Someone special, if the rooms in her place weren’t good enough. Curiosity about the identity of the man overcame his better judgment. He assured himself he needed to know what was going on in his town.

  He peered in the direction of the gurgling water and took several silent steps.

  An unmistakable click warned him he’d made a grave mistake. The sound of a drawn hammer. The hairs on his neck stood up. Because of his curiosity, he’d been sloppy. Someone had a revolver aimed at his back.

  “Stop right there.” Lily’s voice.

  Damn! How had he gotten so careless?

  “Hands up, mister.”

  Slowly Nate raised both hands in the air. She wouldn’t shoot him. Would she? Had he interrupted something he wasn’t supposed to see? Had he frightened her?

  “Toss your gun down real slow.”

  He was faster, but he couldn’t risk startling her. Still, he couldn’t let her take his gun. Slowly he lowered his right hand toward the holster on his hip. At the last second he spun, lunged toward her and locked his fist around the .45 she held.

  She emitted a startled cry, but clung to her Colt in a death grip. The struggle soon had his arms wrapped around her as he fought to keep her from shooting. He was larger and stronger, and in moments he overpowered her, taking the gun away and subduing her struggles.

  The next thing his brain registered was that her dress was over there on that rock, and he was holding her near-naked body against him. She was soft and warm and disturbingly feminine. The crush of her breasts against his chest ignited a disturbing reaction, one that angered him at his weakness. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Sheriff?” The question came out as a breathless discovery. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Keepin’ you from shootin’ me in the back, I reckon.” He released her and took a step back.

  She stood in the illumination of the moon, wearing a corset, stockings held up by black garters, and the ever-present pearls around her neck.

  The sight of her scantily clad form, even in the darkness, sent messages of sensual alert to the rest of his body.

  “Did you follow me?” she asked.

  “Had to see what you were up to. Who you were meetin’.”

  She placed her hands on her hips, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that she wasn’t wearing her dress. “And what business is that of yours?”

  “It’s my business if you’re in trouble—or if you’re not safe.”

  “And if I was meeting someone, I’d be in trouble? Or unsafe? Who did you imagine my partner to be?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” She edged farther away from him. “Because there isn’t anyone. It’s a hot night, and on nights like this I come for a swim.” She reached for her garters. “Turn away.”

  When he realized she meant to remove her stockings, he jerked into motion and faced the opposite direction. “Alone?” he asked.

  “Yes, alone. Not that it’s any concern of yours. I can take care of myself.”

  The image of her stripping away the rest of her clothing added twenty degrees to the already-simmering night. “Like you did just then? I had you overpowered.”

  “I could have shot you in the back first.”

  That fact still rankled him, and so did the fact that she was rubbing it in. “But you didn’t.”

  “Aren’t you grateful?”

  He ignored that question. “So you came to swim?”

  “Yes. And if you’ve seen enough, I intend to do just that.”

  The
bushes rustled.

  Nate turned to catch only the glimmer of her hair and a pale shoulder as she disappeared around an outcropping of bushes on her way to the stream. A few minutes later he heard the sound of water splashing. His imagination went wild.

  Lily Divine naked in the moonlight.

  That painting in the Shady Lady was burned into his aching mind and he could see her vividly right now. For the first time, he envied the man who’d painted it. And the men who accompanied her up to her room to take their ease in her lush body.

  Nate realized he still held her Colt. He walked toward the rock where her clothing lay and placed the .45 on top of her garters and stockings. The backs of his knuckles brushed the fabric, finding it still warm.

  Against his better judgment, he followed the path she’d taken. He couldn’t see much of her, only her head and shoulders above the surface of the water. The moon reflected circles of shimmering light in ever-widening rings around the spot where she splashed. She was humming “Beautiful Dreamer” as though she hadn’t a concern in the world.

  “I left your gun!” he called.

  The humming continued.

  Nate turned his back with resolve and trudged back to where the horses stood. Something wouldn’t let him leave her here alone. Maybe she had come by herself plenty of times. Maybe she wasn’t afraid. But he wouldn’t feel comfortable riding back to town without her. Occasionally he heard water splash. He tried not to think about Lily in her corset and stockings, or about her naked body covered only with droplets and goose bumps, but it was futile.

  The seeds had been planted in his mind, and he couldn’t uproot them. Best he could do was keep snippin’ off the shoots as they tried to grow.

  Finally the sound of her footsteps in the grass alerted him that she was returning. He turned to discover Lily once again garbed in the green dress. She carried something, and it dawned on him after a moment that what she held was her underclothing. Her dark hair lay in a mass of wet ringlets across her shoulders.

  She didn’t seem surprised to find him waiting beside the horses. “You can see I survived. And I didn’t break any laws or conspire with any outlaws.”

  He watched as she mounted with a swish of satin and settled herself in the saddle. He stood close enough that he could have reached up and touched her bare calf, and his palm tingled with anticipation at the indulgent thought. He could smell her hair and skin, and the scent ignited his senses.

  With purpose, he swung onto his roan, and they headed for town. When they reached the outskirts, Nate reined to a halt. She kept riding forward but glanced back over her shoulder.

  He held up one hand in a farewell.

  Lily turned away and kept riding.

  Nate kicked his horse into a run back toward the stream. It was a hot night. He could use a swim, as well. And now he knew the perfect spot.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING at home, Lily answered a knock at the front door. After suffering a restless night, she’d given up trying to sleep, so she’d been up and dressed for hours.

  A man stood outside, dressed in a well-cut suit that appeared to have seen better days. There was a mended tear in one shoulder, and the opposite sleeve was unraveling at the cuff.

  “How do, ma’am,” he said, removing his hat. “Marcus Pinkerton.”

  “It’s miss,” she replied. “Miss Divine.”

  “Miss Divine. I was directed to your establishment—”

  Lily’s defenses went on alert. Many men had been mistakenly guided to her door. “I run a dance hall, Mr. Pinkerton, and we’re open for drinks and card games of an evening only.”

  “I don’t wish to impose, miss, it’s just that I’ve been trying to raise a bit of cash, you see.” He seemed embarrassed at his next words. “I’m taking my family across country and we’ve run into a bit of hard luck.”

  Lily stepped out onto the walk beside him and noticed his wagon for the first time. It was a fine rig, one of the best made, in fact, and a woman sat on the seat, two children peering around her shoulder.

  “What is it you think I can do for you?”

  “I have a few pieces of furniture for sale. Unique items, and I’m not asking much. Just enough for supplies and a doctor.”

  “Is someone sick?”

  “No, no. My wife has blisters that have become infected. She probably just needs some ointment and a bandage.”

  Marcus Pinkerton’s face was bright red now, and Lily understood his need to spare his pride by selling something to provide for his family.

  “I’ll have a look at that furniture,” she said.

  The man led her to the rear of his wagon and climbed up to haul out a few pieces carefully wrapped in blankets. He exposed them for Lily’s inspection. Quite garish furniture actually, and she tried not to grimace when she looked at the selection.

  “This table is from Japan,” he told her, indicating the table with ugly cast-iron elephant legs. It had ivory tusks as crossbars and a marble top. “It weighs too much to keep hauling,” he said sadly.

  “I can see that it would.” Lily glanced at the weary face of the woman and the worn clothing of the children. They appeared to be a once-affluent family who’d indeed seen some difficult times. She’d never started out with money, but she certainly knew what it was like to be dragged from one site to the next without a place to call home.

  “Are you a miner?” she asked out of curiosity.

  “No, miss. I was an importer back east. My partner swindled me out of a tidy sum, and I’m moving my family to start over. My wife’s brother has land for us.”

  She looked from his face to his wife’s. “I doubt anyone in Thunder Canyon has seen anything like this,” she said of the table. “I know I never have.”

  She made the man an offer, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She went inside to take money from her safe and returned to find a lamp had joined the table on the boardwalk.

  “My wife wants you to have this, as well.”

  Lily glanced at the black fringed shade and smiled. She handed Mr. Pinkerton the cash and he carried her table and lamp indoors. She wished the family well and watched their horses draw the wagon down the street.

  She gave the hideous table and lamp a regretful glance and left them where they stood in the foyer.

  She’d no sooner reached the kitchen when a tap sounded on the rear door. “You’d think we were running the freight depot,” she muttered.

  Only Mollie and Violet were in the room, and they continued their morning tasks as Lily answered the knock.

  Lily discovered a woman with a lace-trimmed shawl draped over her head.

  “Can I help you?”

  She nodded, though she didn’t look up, and Lily was unable to see her face. She wore a yellow and white dress with ruffled lace at her wrists and a wedding band on her left hand.

  “I need someplace to stay,” she said.

  Lily turned to the women inside and said, “Excuse us a moment, ladies, will you please?”

  Mollie and Violet moved their pans from the stove and left the room.

  Lily invited the woman into the kitchen and closed the door, knowing instinctively that getting her inside would lend her a measure of safety. “Do you need a doctor?”

  The woman peeled the shawl from her head. Lily recognized Catherine Douglas, the banker’s wife.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHE’D BEEN CRYING. Her eyelids were red and puffy, but she also bore a fresh bruise along her jaw and her lip was cut and swollen.

  “Catherine,” Lily said.

  “No, no doctor,” she replied. “I just need a place to stay for a night or so.”

  Lily masked her anger and quickly filled a basin of warm water. “Follow me. Ladies, I’m done in the kitchen,” she called. “Thank you!”

  She led Catherine upstairs. “No one will disturb you here in my room. You’ll be safe.”

  This wasn’t the first time the woman had come to her. Lily wished she could wring her own justice from men w
ho abused women. If that suddenly became possible, Amos Douglas was high on her list.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Amos was angry when he came home last night,” Catherine said. “Something to do with the bank, but I’m not sure. He didn’t like the meal and the children were quarreling. He gets frustrated, and then he sends the children to their rooms and shouts at me because I’m not disciplining them well enough. I am having difficulty handling them, I admit. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “They see their own father being disrespectful, so how are they supposed to respect you?” Lily asked angrily.

  “He’s not a bad person,” Catherine said on a sob. “He’s never laid a finger on the children.”

  “He hits you,” Lily replied. “That doesn’t make him a saint.” She bathed Catherine’s face. The woman was older than Lily, with lovely features and porcelain skin. “This happened last night?” she asked.

  Catherine nodded. “He left this morning. I was afraid he would come back after the children had gone to school.”

  “Perhaps it’s time you take the children and get away from him,” Lily suggested.

  “I have no money of my own to support us, and Amos would find me. It would only be worse then.”

  “I could help you,” Lily told her. “We could get you far away from here.”

  Catherine shook her head, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. “I can’t. John will be going to university soon, and I couldn’t pay for that. I couldn’t support the girls by myself.”

  Lily took Catherine in her arms and hugged her. “You can always come here. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

  “I know. I know. Thank you, Lily.”

  Lily released her and got out a dressing gown. “Why don’t you lie down and I’ll bring ice for your lip.”

  Catherine seemed relieved to have Lily look after her. She lay with the sheets pulled to her chest and Lily rested a scrap of cloth filled with ice against her lip and jaw.

  “You know how helpless I feel, don’t you, Lily?”

  Lily looked into her eyes without responding.

  “I’ve never asked you this before. Have you been in a situation like mine? Has someone hurt you?”