The Texan's Dream (3 page)

“No.” Kara laughed. “I only wish I had a wee bit more.”

When they reached the mercantile, the lights were out. Kara stared into the window at the shadow of her pile of clothes.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the boy said. “We’ll be open tomorrow at nine.”

“I’m leaving at dawn.” She added, “I couldn’t have bought much anyway.” She handed the boy one of her last two dollars.

“Oh, no, miss,” he protested. “My tip’s only a dime, no more.”

“You earned it tonight, but I need you to do something for me tomorrow.”

“Name it.” The boy stuffed the bill into his pocket.

“I left a pair of boots in the store. You can’t miss them, they’re in a fine Warren paper bag. Could you take them back to Mr. Warren, get the money, then take it to the widow?”

“I could, but won’t you be needing the boots or the cash?”

“No. I’ll be miles away by the time the store opens, and I’ll have no use for money where I’m going. I’m off for the wilds of Texas. No doubt the buffalo and scorpions will kill me just as quickly in old clothes and noisy shoes.”

She turned and squeaked away, thinking about how, without boots, she’d be an easy target for the rattlers as well. That is, if Jonathan Catlin didn’t kill her first for buying nothing with his money and ruining his fine wool coat.

This fine day had become exhausting. And she had a feeling the worst was yet to come. Dinner with Mr. Catlin.

FOUR

A LOG TUMBLED INTO THE DYING FIRE, SHAKING Jonathan from his nightmare. The same nightmare he’d had since he was five. He was running. Running with terror so thick in his throat no breath could pass. Screams filled the air behind him. Savage yells, death cries. He fought his way over the newly plowed earth, afraid to look back.

The smell of burning flesh lingered as he pulled himself from the past. Jonathan downed the last of his glass of whiskey and stretched his legs toward the fire, trying to forget his dream. A dream that waited just beyond consciousness, always coming to life at night, shadowing his days.

Most people wanted to remember what they dreamed and used those memories for amusing parlor conversation. Jonathan only wanted to forget. But even when he managed to push this one aside, another waited to take its place.

He’d been five the first time his world shattered, fourteen the second time. But never again. No person, no place, no possession would ever matter to him again. They couldn’t. He’d never survive a third time.

He pulled an old watch from his vest pocket. Eight forty-five. Kara O’Riley should’ve been back from the shops an hour or more ago. Most of them closed at dark or soon after.

Swinging from his chair with practiced ease, Jonathan froze before he took a step. The pain along his cheek returned. The mirror above the mantel reflected the source of his discomfort. He was relieved to see that most of the swelling had gone down, and he could open his left eye slightly. The skin around the cut and along his cheekbone flared in varying shades of black and purple, but it would heal.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he moved across the room and into the hallway. There was no time to wait. The dining room closed in a few minutes, and he hadn’t eaten all day. He’d be willing to bet the bookkeeper hadn’t either.

Jonathan pounded on her door. “Miss O’Riley!” he shouted as if there were no other guests on the floor. He’d feed her, then give her the details of her employment. She had a right to know just what she was getting into, or at least as close as he could explain. How did one explain the Catlin Ranch?

The door opened an inch. “Yes?”

He couldn’t see her clearly. “I believe we’re having dinner together.”

“I’m not hungry,” she answered. “But thank you for the invitation. I’ll see you at dawn, Mr. Catlin.”

He pushed the door open wider. Cold air rushed from her room into the hallway. “Nonsense …” Any words he’d been about to say vanished when he saw her. She was almost covered in dirt and looked exhausted. Her proper bun had fallen on one side, and her face was smeared with coal dust.

“What happened to you?” he asked in a harsher tone than he’d intended.

“Nothing,” she lied as one tear cleared a path down her cheek.

“Get undressed.” He thought he saw panic blink in her eyes a second before he continued, “I’ll order you a bath delivered at once. Then, I’ll have dinner served in my room in one hour. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t give her time to argue. Backing out of her doorway, he walked several feet down the hall before she closed the door.

Jonathan couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his lips. He could be making wrong assumptions from her state. Maybe his “wee” bookkeeper made a habit of jumping out of windows. No telling how many others she’d damaged since he’d given her his coat. Kansas City wasn’t a town with a great many buildings over one story, but he felt sure there were enough to keep her busy.

After he ordered the bath and dinner, Jonathan returned to his room and waited. As he poured himself another drink, he listened to the maids deliver the tub and hot water. He’d paid them double for speed and also to attend to whatever Miss O’Riley needed. Though why he bothered astonished him. If he had any sense, he’d fire the little lady. She didn’t seem to be able to walk the streets of town without looking like she’d been run over by a wagon carrying coal. How could she ever survive in Texas?

Food was delivered and set before the fire with the two huge chairs turned to the table. It looked cozy, Jonathan thought. A word he never recalled using before.

The waiter smiled, fussing over the table as if he thought it “cozy” also, a rendezvous between lovers.

Jonathan didn’t explain. When the waiter left, Kara appeared in the doorway. Her hair was parted in the middle and hung down her back in damp strands. The skirt and jacket she wore were the same ones he’d seen earlier. The maids must have brushed the wool skirt and mended the jacket. She wore what appeared to be a clean white blouse, but it had a frayed collar. It couldn’t be one she’d just bought. She’d forgotten her glasses, and he wondered how she found his room without them.

Her beauty was an unexpected blow to his gut. Without her glasses and wearing her hair long, she was one-hundred-percent trouble wrapped up in perfection. Even though he’d only seen her in a shadowy hallway, then later after she landed on him, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed her.

Most of the women he’d talked to in his life had been weathered ranch wives with skin of leather, or painted, powdered girls at the saloons. Even in rags, Kara O’Riley outshone them all, and Jonathan knew he’d be facing problems if he took her into a country with few women and thousands of lonely men.

“Where are your glasses?” he asked without moving from the doorway.

“I must have forgotten them,” she answered, sounding puzzled. “My father said I should only wear them when I have to, lest I become dependent on them.”

“I expect you to wear them from now on, Miss O’Riley. I’ll not have an employee running into things.” Or men falling over her, he almost added.

“All right.” She frowned.

Jonathan remembered his manners and motioned her in. “I thought you’d also be wearing your traveling clothes.”

“I am.” She hesitantly stepped into the room. “I only came to tell you that I don’t think I should be in a gentleman’s room. So, I won’t be having dinner with you tonight.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow and stared at her closely. “You wouldn’t be here, Miss O’Riley, if you had arrived when the hotel dining room was still open. Besides, you’re not a lady in a man’s room. You’re my bookkeeper.”

He wanted everything clear between them from the beginning. No misunderstandings. “In the next year we’ll be spending a great deal of time alone together and, I assure you, you’ll be perfectly safe from any advances you fear I might make.”

She glanced at the food but didn’t move when Jonathan motioned for her to take a seat.

He opened a lid, revealing a baked chicken. “As far as I’m concerned, Miss O’Riley, you are not a woman at all. When I look at you I see nothing but someone to keep my accounts.”

He’d give truth to his words, he told himself, even if he had to blacken both his eyes on a regular basis. “Now, let’s eat before this meal gets cold.”

She took a step closer, staring at the food instead of him.

Jonathan continued as he sliced a piece of meat for each plate. “I don’t know if Mr. Clark explained everything in enough detail.” He added a portion of potatoes. “I’ve inherited a ranch. I need someone I can trust. I’ll pay all expenses, and a good wage, but I expect loyalty.”

“You can trust me.” She glanced up at him as she took her place at the table.

“Can I?” he wondered aloud. How could he possibly trust a woman he’d known only hours? “If I do, I expect you to be on my side and not sell out, no matter what you’re offered. If you hire on to work for me, you work for
me.”
He’d be willing to bet she’d be offered double the salary in less than a month to spy on him.

“ ’Tis a fair request.” She watched him break open a loaf of bread.

Jonathan handed her a piece. “But a warning. If you cross me, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Fear danced in her eyes a moment before the stubbornness he’d seen earlier replaced alarm.

“I’ll be on your side as long as you treat me with the same respect you would a man doing your books. I want no restrictions because I am a woman. I expect no special consideration. I’ll live up to my part of the bargain if you’ll live up to yours.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed. As Jonathan watched her, his respect for her grew. She’d asked for a chance, the same chance he would give a man. He wanted to ask when she’d been made to feel so inferior, but he did not pry into her past. Neither would he allow her to look into his.

If she knew him better, she might not volunteer her trust so quickly. In a matter of days, she’d hear the rumors about men he’d killed. About how he’d lived as a savage. About the way he kept people at a distance. She’d hear soon enough that he cared for nothing and for no one.

He had no doubt she’d be told how cold and heartless he could be. Would she be loyal to him then? Would she stand at his side, maybe even fight beside him? Would anyone—man or woman?

Jonathan watched her eat and knew he’d guessed right about one thing. She hadn’t had a meal today. He liked that she didn’t try to fill the air with chatter. He needed the time to think everything out, to plan. When he asked her a few questions, she appeared to be honest in her answers, even telling him about the widow and the boy and how the store closed before she could return. She made no apology for her actions, but simply said she’d make do with what she had.

Jonathan frowned. He’d be willing to bet she’d been tricked. The boy had probably seen her at the shoe store and knew she had money. He’d had plenty of time to arrange everything with the widow. The clerk was likely in on the scam also. They were, no doubt, having a great laugh on how they tricked the young woman out of her advance money.

And this was the person he was going to have to trust with his wealth? A person who couldn’t hang on to fifty dollars for an afternoon? When Jonathan realized he hadn’t said anything for several minutes, he looked across the table.

She still held her fork, but she’d leaned her head against the wing of the chair and was fast asleep.

Jonathan lost interest in the meal. He shoved the table away and leaned back in his chair, watching her sleep. There was something peaceful about sitting across from someone with only the crackle of the fire to break the silence. She was easy on the eyes. Like watching a slow sunset on the plains.

I’m a fool, he thought. She’s little more than a girl. He couldn’t take her on the journey to Texas, much less plant her out on his ranch. It hadn’t been an hour since he’d told her she was not a woman, but a bookkeeper. And here he sat, watching her sleep, like he had nothing better to do with his time.

Lighting a thin cigar, he exhaled the smoke slowly and stretched his long legs toward the fire. If he had any sense he’d give her three months’ pay and thank her for applying. He and Newton, his foreman, could manage as they had for a month. Never mind that they both hated the hours it took to balance the ranch books. Better that than place some innocent woman in danger.

The idea that he might somehow be putting himself in danger also gnawed at him. This plaid-covered nymph could do nothing to him, Jonathan told himself as he watched her. Nothing.

He closed his eyes and thought of all the problems awaiting him. He’d need all his skill to protect himself. He couldn’t be watching out for her. If she wanted him to treat her as he would a man, then so be it. No more. No less.

When the cigar was only ashes in the tray, Jonathan stood. “Miss O’Riley,” he said, not wanting to startle her. “O’Riley?”

He touched her hand, lifting it in his. “It’s time we turned in.”

Her fingers were warm, soft to his touch. He could hear the steady slow rhythm of her breathing and wondered what her day must have been like to exhaust her so completely.

“Kara,” he tried her name. No, that wouldn’t do, too personal. “O’Riley.”

He couldn’t bring himself to yell and startle her awake. The only other choice was to carry her to her room.

Pulling one of her arms up and over his shoulder, he knelt and lifted her. She felt so light.

To his amazement, she leaned her head against his shoulder and moaned softly.

Jonathan didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe. What if she awoke and found him holding her like this? He’d probably frighten a year off her life. But he couldn’t set her back down. He’d chosen his plan of action.

Carefully, he carried her across the room. By the time they reached the hallway, the warmth of her sleeping body penetrated through his clothing to his chest. He moved slowly to her door, allowing his chin to brush slightly against her hair.

Amused at himself, he decided this certainly wasn’t the way he’d treat a male bookkeeper. But then she’d never know he carried her. It didn’t matter.

As he would have guessed, she hadn’t bothered to lock her door. He stepped inside her room, now warm from a glowing fire. For a while, he just stood there, listening to her breathe, feeling her against him. She was a strange creature, unlike any he’d ever encountered. Something inside her wouldn’t allow her to fear, not the unknown, not him.

He placed her gently atop the covers, lifted her hair, and spread it across the pillows. When he circled the quilts to cocoon her, she snuggled into the warmth like a child. He reached to remove her shoes and noticed she’d come to dinner in her stockings.

Pulling his gaze from her, Jonathan looked around the room. The remains of her bath still sat by the fireplace. One suitcase, hardly big enough to hold his great coat, lay opened on the floor. The clothes within were little more than carefully mended rags. Lifting his coat, he reached in the pocket. He discovered a bill of sale for a pair of shoes and a pair of boots, one dollar stuffed into a crumpled envelope and an address scribbled on a scrap of paper.

A muddy pair of shoes warmed in front of the fireplace, but no boots. The bill had been from Warren’s Boot and Shoe Store. Jonathan had seen the bags with the name on them, but no boots were in Kara’s room. Somehow she managed to spend forty-nine dollars in an afternoon and had nothing to show for it but one pair of shoes that looked like they wouldn’t hold up many more days.

The realization that she’d been tricked angered him. Jonathan picked up his coat and the address scribbled on the paper. He’d find out who’d swindled her if he had to walk the streets until dawn.