Charlene Sands (14 page)

“Thank you.”

He undid three more buttons, his large fingers easily working the tiny fasteners. “You look really pretty in this dress.”

“Thank you,” she said again, more quietly.

The gown parted down her shoulders now and he skimmed his fingers inside, brushing them against her silken skin.

She trembled.

He saw her reflection from the dark window, the lamplight illuminating her face. Her eyes were closed but her expression of longing slammed into his gut.

He undid a few more buttons. “You’ll be out of this soon. “And he wondered if she caught on to his meaning.

Her voice wavered. “I…hope…so.”

She held up the dress now with both hands, keeping her breasts covered and the material from falling into a puddle.

Bodine paused before undoing the last few pearl buttons. “I broke the lock on your door.”

“I know,” she said.

His fingers slid along her spine now, making goose bumps break out. He wanted to lay his lips there and kiss every inch of the skin he’d exposed. He wrapped his hands around her slender waist, this time pressing her solid up against him. He whispered, “You can stay in my room tonight.”

Emmy turned completely around, her hands still grasping the gown. She searched his eyes, hers big and round, questioning him silently.

He was tempted by every male instinct he possessed to lower his head and take her in a long, sweeping kiss. He wanted that gown down around her feet. He wanted his hands on her body. He wanted to satisfy the promise he’d seen in her eyes.

His groin protested eagerly.

But Mrs. Rourke’s words pounded loud and clear in his head.
Keep her safe.

He backed away and kept his voice steady. “I meant, you can have my room and I’ll take this one.”

Emmy studied him. “Bodine, that’s not what you meant.”

“Emmy, it is,” he fibbed again. What was one more lie? He’d told her dozens already. “You’ll sleep better in my room, knowing you’re locked in.”

She sighed and shook her head, her expression wary. Finally she said, “That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

“Either you take my room, or I’ll have to sleep in here. On the floor.”

“No,” she said stubbornly.

“I’m responsible for breaking down your door. I won’t get a lick of sleep knowing you’re in here, without…”

“Without what, Bodine? Your protection? You were willing to ignore me for these past two days. Now, all of a sudden, you feel you have to protect me?”

Bodine gnashed his teeth.

“I’m sleeping in my room,” she insisted.

“Then I’m sleeping on your floor.”

Bodine set his jaw.

Emmy glanced away, contemplating. “I don’t understand you.”

“I don’t understand you, either.”

She looked at him again, none too pleased. “Okay, fine. I’ll sleep in your room. I’m too tired to argue.”

Bodine nodded. “Grab what you need.”

Emmy gathered a few things and then marched out her door, the dress draping from her body. The picture she made clinging to that silk gown, set his nerves on fire.

A few hotel patrons popped their heads out of their doors to see about the commotion. Bodine glared at them and they immediately retreated inside their rooms.

He followed Emmy to his room and grabbed his own necessities then left her, waiting until he heard the latch click closed.

“Emmy?” he whispered from behind the door.

“What?”

“I’ll be working your buttons tomorrow night, too. Just so we’re clear.”

She released a deep sigh. “Go to bed, Bodine.” He grinned.

Now, he would get some sleep.

E
mma should have let Bodine sleep on the floor last night.

Would’ve served him right.

She’d captured the attention of every patron in the Golden Dollar Saloon tonight.

Except Bodine’s.

He sat at the back of the room drinking whiskey, his head down as if the liquor in his glass held the secrets of the world. Oh, he’d glanced around, staring at her audience from time to time, but not once had he looked up to meet her eyes.

As she neared the last song of her second performance, Emma’s anger rose and she couldn’t help put that emotion into the last ballad of the evening. When she finished the song, a sweeping round of applause broke out.

Emma’s irritation faded then, seeing joy in so many faces, and she forgot all about how Bodine had managed to ignore her, refusing to grant her one glimpse as she performed.

This morning she’d woken to find him gone, without a word to her. She discovered the lock to her hotel door repaired, so she’d moved her things back into her room and faced the day alone.

Emma put aside her resentment and spent the next half hour asking the same questions she had the night before, hoping someone in the saloon would volunteer information. At this point, she’d welcome any tidbit of news about her father.

Once again, she’d been disappointed. No one had any information about Jake Trundy.

Mr. Dickson ushered away the hangers-on who had stayed by Emma’s side with offers of drinks or to walk her home. She’d had more male attention in the past two evenings than she’d had in her entire lifetime, but Emma wasn’t tempted. Her focus remained on finding her father.

“Have a seat, Miss Marie.” Donald Dickson pulled out a chair by a corner table. “Would you care for a refreshing sarsaparilla?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. My throat is a bit parched tonight.” Emma sat, tucking her gown into the barrel-shaped chair. When Mr. Dickson gestured, the bartender walked over with the tall drink and handed it to her.

She glanced up. “Thank you, Abe.”

“Great performance, Miss Marie,” he said, before heading back to the bar.

“You’re quite a delight,” Mr. Dickson said, taking a seat to face her. “And as you can see, you have brought in another large crowd to the Golden Dollar.”

“I’m happy to have the opportunity, Mr. Dickson.” She sipped her beverage, relieving her dry throat with the flavorful liquid.

“My offer still stands, but I’ll add an additional bonus of one hundred dollars to that offer, if you agree to stay on for two months. That’s quite a bit of money, Miss Marie.”

Emma smiled sweetly, but her mind was made up. “It’s a generous offer, Mr. Dickson. Please be assured that if I could stay on, I would. But as it stands now, I plan on being on the next stage to Pine Ridge.”

Noticeable disappointment crossed Mr. Dickson’s features. Emma knew the clever saloon owner didn’t like to lose a business deal. “I see. So, there’s no persuading you?”

Emma shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I have to move on.”

Mr. Dickson reached into his pocket and handed Emma the agreed amount for her performances. “If you decide to change your mind, the offer stands.”

She glanced at the cash he set into her palm. Fair and square, she’d earned her first real money tonight, playing to an enthralled audience doing what she loved best. Thrilled, she could barely contain her deep satisfaction. Her pulse escalated, warming her body on the chilly night.

“As you can see, there’s a tad bit more there than we agreed. Let’s call it an incentive, so you’ll remember the Golden Dollar next time you’re passing through.” Mr. Dickson smiled.

She returned the smile. “Oh, believe me, I won’t forget the Golden Dollar, Mr. Dickson. Thank you.”

When she rose from her seat, Mr. Dickson stood also. “I’ll be happy to escort you back to the hotel now.”

“Won’t be necessary. I’ll escort Miss Marie. I’m heading there myself.”

Emma turned to find Bodine directly behind, holding her coat out for her. “How did you—”

He cast her a smug smile.

“Bodine,” she sighed, exasperated.

“Do you know him?” Dickson asked curiously, darting glances from her to Bodine.

“
You
know me, Dickson,” Bodine answered quickly, before Emma could respond. “I’ll walk her back. She’ll be safe with me.”

“But if the lady—”

Emma tugged on Mr. Dickson’s sleeve. “It’s fine, Mr. Dickson,” she assured him. “I have something I need to discuss with him.”

Emma turned to glare at Bodine.

“Allow me to help you with your coat, Miss Marie,” Bodine said, with enough charm to woo a bitter old shrew. “It’s cold out there.”

Emma rolled her eyes but slid her arms through the sleeves and buttoned up.

She wished Carlotta had attended her performance tonight. She’d been such a great source of comfort. Emma loved looking out and seeing a friendly familiar face when she sang. Lord knows, Bodine hadn’t lent her that particular consolation. But Carlotta had a rather large commission of three gowns for a wealthy rancher’s wedding and had planned to work through the next few nights. Emma promised to call on her in the morning. Sadly, it would have to be a farewell visit.

Emma found her handbag from behind the bar, set her money inside and closed it before facing Mr. Dickson. “It’s been a pleasure. Thank you for the opportunity.”

They clasped hands. “Remember the offer, Miss Marie.”

“I will,” she said, grateful for the chance to perform. “I’ll never forget the Golden Dollar.”

She turned and strode past Bodine, ignoring him the best she could, ready to face whatever the next town had in store for her.

“Hold up, Emmy. What’s your rush?” Bodine asked, from steps behind on the sidewalk.

Emma sped her pace, eager to be away from the irksome man. “Leave me be, Bodine. You’ve had ample practice in that, so take heed now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bodine called out.

Emma clamped her mouth shut. She’d had disappointing news about her father’s whereabouts yet she’d found great satisfaction in performing. With her emotions running like wildfire, she didn’t need Bodine hanging around, confusing matters even more.

“Hey there, Miz Marie.” A tall drunken cowboy approached her on the sidewalk, slurring his words. He stumbled against her shoulder and nearly knocked her down. “Ya sure do sang purty.”

She righted herself, but before she could comment Bodine appeared, shoving the cowboy against the mercantile wall.

“Don’t touch her again,” Bodine rasped in a chilling voice. The cowboy’s eyes rounded in fear. “Now, git.”

The stranger staggered off in the opposite direction. Bodine let go a deep breath and turned to her. “Now…damn it, you’re walking with me.”

Bodine took hold of her arm.

Emma yanked it free. “He didn’t mean any harm, Bodine.”

“He nearly knocked you to the ground.”

“I can fend for myself.”

“Oh yeah? Since when?”

Emma’s pride was at stake. True, Bodine had helped her many times this past week, but she hadn’t been completely without gumption. She’d surprised herself these past few days in all that she had accomplished. And now, he actually questioned her ability to take care of herself? Emma wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her anger. “Why, for the last nineteen years.” She feigned a sugary smile. “I’d like to walk the rest of the way alone.”

Bodine gritted his teeth. “What’s riling you, Emmy?”

They stood face-to-face on the sidewalk, staring each other down.

“Well?” Bodine pressed impatiently.

Emma shook her head but confided quietly, “Lots of things, Bodine. And not a one you’d understand.”

After a few seconds of scrutiny, his stormy eyes studying her, he relented. “Fine then. Go back to the hotel.”

Emma walked past him in grudging silence, but heard the annoying sound of his boots scraping against the sidewalk. She entered the hotel and climbed the stairs, aware of his presence behind her. She fitted the key inside the repaired lock and entered, turning to latch the door.

Before she could slam the door shut, Bodine’s arm jutted out to keep the door from closing. “You’re forgetting something, Emmy.”

Emma’s patience was at an end. Wearily she asked, “What now?”

“You need me.”

Bodine flashed white teeth and Emma’s resolve began to ebb. Rarely did he smile with such unguarded abandon. He continued to perplex her. Yet, that smile on such a chiseled face was hard to resist. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently like an old schoolmarm. “No doubt you think so.”

He chuckled and her mood lightened. She had to work doubly hard to keep from smiling, too.

“Unless you have someone else around here willing to undress you?” Bodine feigned innocence, pretending to search the hallway.

Darn him. She’d forgotten about the tiny buttons that she couldn’t undo to save her life. She’d had a hard enough time putting the darned dress on. “Shh!” She pulled at his arm, yanking him inside her room and closing the door. “We created enough of a fuss yesterday. Changing rooms in the middle of the night like that.”

Bodine tossed his hat onto her bed, ready to make himself comfortable.

“And just so you know, I could have any number of gentlemen to…to, help me with my gown.”

Bodine blinked. Then a twinkle gleamed in his eyes. “But
I’m
here now.”

“Unfortunately,” she said, the lie flowing as easy as a lazy river. She couldn’t deny his unwitting charm. He was as handsome as the day was long and so darned infuriating she couldn’t make up her mind to hate him or to…love him. She whipped around quickly, giving him her back. “Go ahead, so we can both get to sleep.”

Thankfully, he made quick work of the buttons, stepping away from her when the task was complete. “You going on to Pine Ridge?” he asked.

“Yes, I have to,” she said, turning and grasping the material tight in her hand to keep the dress above her breasts. He glimpsed her chest and bared shoulders before meeting her eyes. She ignored the warm ripple of awareness shooting through her body. “What about you? Will you stay on here or head toward San Francisco?”

“That depends on what I find out about Metcalf.” He grabbed his hat from the bed, set it onto his head and lowered the brim. “Good night, Emmy.”

Emmy watched him exit, his broad back to her as he sauntered out.

“Be sure to lock up now.” She heard his command from the other side of the door.

Emma wasn’t a child. She knew to lock herself in, but she held back an unpleasant retort, her mind reeling with something more bothersome. Bodine might meet up with a cold-blooded outlaw soon. She didn’t know if she’d ever see him again.

She walked over to lock the door. “Be careful, Bodine,” she whispered long after his footsteps had faded away.

Carlotta hugged Emmy on the steps of the Pioneer Stage Company station. “I shall miss you, Emma.”

“Oh, Carlotta, I’ll miss you, too. You’ve been a dear friend to me.” Emma’s eyes misted with tears. She’d learned much from the vivacious Frenchwoman. Without compunction, she’d shared many of her experiences with Emma, giving her sage advice that she would keep with her always.

“And I shall continue to be your friend. Have your grand adventure, Emma, and one day you shall return to Bridgeton to tell me your stories.” Carlotta grabbed her hand and squeezed gently. Her blue eyes twinkled with warmth. “I have no doubt you will find your dream.”

Emma fought the sadness entering her heart, grateful to have met Mademoiselle Carlotta Dubois. “Thank you, Carlotta. I promise to return one day.”

The driver loaded Emma’s new carpetbag onto the back of the stagecoach then placed a canvas tarpaulin over all the baggage, securing it at the boot. “Excuse me, Miss Marie. We are ready when you are,” the driver said respectfully.

Emma stared at him, surprised at his reverent tone. “Yes, I won’t keep you waiting any longer.”

Carlotta whispered close to her ear, “You are well-known in Bridgeton now.” She hugged her one last time and step smiled. “Go. Find your destiny, Emma.”

Emma held back tears. “Goodbye, Carlotta.”

With a helping hand from the driver, she stepped into the crowded coach, her knees knocking against the male passenger who sat facing her.

“All settled?” the driver asked, closing the door.

“Yes, I think so.”

“My name is George Crockett, Miss Marie. If you need anything, be sure to let me know.”

Emma nodded politely. As the stagecoach left the depot, she waved one final farewell to Carlotta Dubois, who stood at the depot wearing a brown silk gown and a fancy plume hat, waving back.

Later, after bouncing and pitching over the road for half the day, huddled together with five strangers and covered with the company’s buffalo robe, Emma sighed in relief when the stagecoach finally pulled into Pine Ridge. Her legs ached from the cramped quarters, her calico dress appeared wrinkled beyond help from under her coat, and her entire body was covered in road dust.