A Texan's Promise (14 page)

When they parted, he brushed back a stray hair from her cheek. With a look of sympathy, he murmured, "I'm sorry about the mirror and brush. I'll find a way to make it up to you."

"It meant nothing."

"You sure?"

She understood his skepticism. There'd been a time when her vanity had meant so much more to her. But that was before Price's attack, before she'd left everything she'd known.

Before Clayton had done the same, completely selflessly.

"Everything that matters is right here," she said, clutching his arms. "I promise."

He eyed her lips, almost leaned forward to kiss her, then stepped back suddenly. "I'll deal with the horses if you can gather up wood."

She looked around. "Do you think we're safe?"

"I do. In fact, I'd be surprised if right now we're not the safest we've been in some time. I imagine Red Cloud and his counterparts are keeping watch."

The thought of that made her mouth go dry. "Will they come back?"

"I don't know." Gently, he squeezed her arm. "It's okay, honey. It's going to be all right."

Hastily, she gathered wood for their fire, then set to work scaling and gutting the fish Red Cloud had brought them. She was thankful that she'd never been particularly squeamish about preparing food. After filleting the meat from the bones, she placed it in an iron skillet. Only when the fish was ready did she wade into the creek to wash.

Silently, Clayton took care of the horses, then set to work on the fire. Finally, he laid the pan on the wood, letting the fish crackle and pop as it browned. After they ate, he made coffee.

By this time, the sun had set and only the bright red and orange glow of the fire illuminated the land. She felt exposed and aware of everything around them, sure that Red cloud was watching their every move.

"Come here, honey," Clayton murmured, opening his arm to her from his spot, leaning against a tall spruce.

Little by little, she relaxed against him. Tantalizing smells wafted up from the smoke. The pungent aroma of cedar made their campsite smell inviting, relaxing her nerves.

"How did they know we wouldn't shoot?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Were you tempted to fire on them?"

"No." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "Back in the war, I got used to judging people quickly, even the enemy. After a while—in those last few weeks—we all got tired of killing. I'm thinking that was what Red cloud was feeling, too."

"Tired of killing."

The muscles of his arm around her shoulders tensed."The violence—it takes your breath away. Little by little, death and pain seems to sink into every part of you. Almost becoming part of who you are—part of your soul." He shifted."Sometimes I think I'll do just about anything to never feel that way again."

Vanessa knew Clayton would be forever scarred by his past—just as she knew she'd have no true idea of what he'd actually been through or how bad the things he'd seen really had been.

All she could do was echo a bit of his advice and hope it would catch. "Never's a long time."

Her words seemed to startle a chuckle. "You're right, sugar.Never is definitely a long time." After a moment, Clayton said, "One day we'll need to talk about us, about what is between us."

Vanessa knew he was right. Unfortunately, she had a feeling he wasn't going to want to listen to a single word she said.

So instead of agreeing, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. If she did that, maybe he'd want to keep her in his arms just a little bit longer.

Miles started at a brash knock on his door. No one knew him at the Addison Hotel, so there was no reason anyone should have sought him out.

The knock came again.

"Yes?" He hurried out of his bed and pulled open his saddlebag.His pistol lay at the bottom.

The pounding was harder. "Hello? Anybody in there? Hello?"

"Yes. Just a minute." His palms started to sweat as he grasped the deceptively cool handle of his pistol. Had he loaded it? Did he even know where the bullets were?

The voice floating through grew loud. "Can you walk any slower? My word, but you are taking your time. Do you think I have all day to stand here in the hall?"

Was that a question? "Um . . . well." What should he do? Point the gun as soon as he opened the door?

"Anytime, now. Sir, are you Miles Grant?" Now she was practically yelling.

That's when it hit him.
She.
There was a woman outside his door looking for him. He sat down.

What's more, that voice was deliciously feminine and amazingly forceful.

Most important, it was completely unfamiliar. His hands started to perspire. "I am," he said, still not budging from his seat on the hard chair near the window.

"Well, I don't speak to doors none. Open up, sugar. I've got a message for you and time's a wastin'."

As he realized that most likely the woman would tell him what she came to say whether face-to-face or through the door, Miles crossed the room. With a sense of trepidation, he turned the handle slowly. From the moment the door swayed backward, the woman on the other side took control.

Miles could only step back in awe as a sight like nothing he'd ever seen greeted him with a saucy smile.

"Oh!" she murmured. "Hmm."

A real belle was staring at him, long and hard. Her eyes were lined with kohl, her lips rouged. She wore a tight-fitting orange-colored dress, all decked out with enough lace and ruf- fles to make his eyes zip from one point to the next just to see what they could see. And, boy howdy, it was a lot.

When he hastily closed his mouth after one full jaw-dropping moment, her blue eyes sparkled. "Now you, Mr. Miles Grant, are nothing how I imagined."

Miles didn't invite her to step inside, but she pranced in anyway. In a flash, she shut the door behind her and faced him full on, just like there was nothing scandalous about her being alone in a room with a man who had his boots off.

Or perhaps she was used to that.

As he glanced at his feet, Miles felt his cheeks heat something awful. He could not believe he'd forgotten to slip on his boots in his haste to locate a gun.

That embarrassment led him to recite the obvious. "I don't know you."

"Oh, honey. Believe me, I know that."

Miles felt his palms getting sweaty. She looked like a sporting woman. Had someone mistakenly informed her that he was wanting a service?

Just as he started wondering how he was going to correct her of that assumption, she placed one hand on her hip and regarded him frankly. "See, it sure don't matter that you don't know me, because I sure as cotton know you. You belong to Price Venture, don't you?"

He didn't know if he "belonged" to anyone. "Price is my stepfather."

"Well he just tried to pay for my time, but I told him to move along." Narrowing her eyes, she murmured, "Now, I'm also wondering if maybe you know a different man. A man I happen to know real well."

Miles just wanted her out of his room. "I doubt we know any of the same people." He walked to the door, gripped the handle to hold himself steady. "Now, if you'll just leave, I—"

"I'm speaking of Clayton Proffitt," she interrupted.

Miles noticed that all traces of guile and flirtation had left her painted face. Instead, he was staring at a woman who knew all the answers and wanted to know if he knew any.

A fear swept through him unlike anything he'd ever known.
What did she want? Why had she sought him out? What's more, how would she have known about Clayton?

If he failed at this point, he'd not only lose his self-respect, he'd know he had finally let his sister down. Fear guided him forward. "I . . . I don't know what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being silly. Look. My name's Lacy. Believe it or not, I've known Clayton for years.Since childhood, since when neither of us could barely tie our shoes. Clayton Proffitt has eyes as dark as hot coffee in the morning, matching hair, square jaw, and stands like he's at attention. Always." She batted her eyelashes. "Ring a bell?"

Miles was beginning to think he'd have had an easier time with a bandit. He could've just shot the guy and shut the door.This woman was making him panicky. Her blue-eyed stare got to him, forced him to speak. "Yes."

"All righty, then." Placing one slim hand on her hip, she got to business. "Clayton was here a few days ago, along with his wife—who's your sister, I presume." She looked him over."You two have the same eyes."

Miles doubted Clayton and Vanessa had actually wed— their relationship had never seemed especially romantic—but he could see Clayton passing off Vanessa as his wife in order to protect her. "Yes?"

"Clayton told me a Price Venture might come around, looking for them." Looking him up and down, she murmured, "I can only assume that's why you're here."

A dozen thoughts were running through his head. He and his stepfather were close behind Vanessa and Clayton. The two of them were traveling as man and wife. And, just as important, he'd done very little to get Price off their track.Despite his promise to Clayton.

Fear rose inside him like bile. Swallowing hard, Miles said, "When you saw my stepfather—did he . . . did Price ask you about Vanessa?"

"No."

Relief poured through him. He hadn't failed. Not yet.

"But I have a feeling once he gets a good amount of liquor in him, he might." Lacy shifted, forcing the other hip out, directing his attention back to her generous figure. After a pause, she raised a brow. "What I'm wondering is . . . what's going on?"

"Nothing you need to know about."

Her voice hardened. "That's where
you
are wrong, Miles Grant. Clayton Proffitt is about the only person in my life who can still make me think that I'm worth more than the dress I'm wearing. Who still can make me feel like I count for something, even now."

"Even now," Miles echoed. Miles felt so lost, he wished he had anyone on his side who made him feel that way. But there was no one.

"His regard means a lot to me, you know?"

Miles felt his neck flush. "I do know." Well, he could guess.

Seemingly satisfied, Lacy nodded. "Tell me something, Miles. Why are y'all after them?" She held up a hand before he could fumble for a lie. "Now, honey, I don't need to know the whole truth. A part of the truth will do."

She had him there. "Our stepfather . . . Price . . . abused my sister." Funny how he no longer was even trying to pretend it hadn't happened. Was it Lacy's direct look or his growing and changing that had brought that on? "Price wants her back."

"Ah. I see."

Miles noticed she didn't look particularly surprised. Had she known the violence of men once before?

As he eyed Lacy and wondered how much more of Vanessa's circumstances he should relay, Miles thought about the abuse he'd become accustomed to receiving from Price. Now he hardly flinched when Price backhanded him or rudely embarrassed him in public. "The truth is, Vanessa would be better off without ever seeing him again."

"Amen to that."

Knowing Price was volatile too, from whatever sickness ailed him, Miles warned, "Be careful of him, Lacy. He's a desperate man. There's money involved, too. He won't stop at hardly nothing right now. Don't tell him a thing about you or Clayton or Vanessa. He'll not forget."

Seeing where his eyes were focused, Lacy leaned against the door. "Don't you worry none about Price. We've seen his like here before, and we'll see his like again. Janey's got him real occupied for now, anyway. But what I'm thinkin' is we need to do something instead of just evading. Don't you agree that would be the proper course of action?"

For most of his life, Miles had only wanted to be safe. Then, as the years passed, he'd only hoped to blend in. After his pa died, when he realized that no one was still going to look at him like a man, he'd tried to drift along, not offering to push himself, never volunteering to lead.

But after Vanessa's attack everything changed.

Now responsibility had slapped him on the back, and he was going through some of the most difficult days of his life.He didn't know who to trust, or who to count on.

Even worse, he wasn't sure who would be with him after all was said and done. Would his efforts make him any closer to Price? Would he, by chance, ever grow any higher in Clayton's estimation?

Would any of it even help Vanessa?

It seemed doubtful.

At that moment, he had no notion of what to do, how to seek help, or if he was even capable anymore of standing on his own two feet.

Finally, he spoke. "I'd be obliged if you would help me."

Folding her arms across her chest, Lacy looked pleased."Good. Here's what I've been thinking. If Price never says a word about Clayton, we're not going to, either. Nothing good will come out of bringing up trouble."

"I agree."

"But if he does, why Janey and me are gonna to tell him that we're sure we saw Clayton and his palomino riding south, toward Mexico." Holding out her hand, she slipped a brass button in his hand. "Look familiar?"

It did, indeed. It looked like the brass buttons Clayton had attached to his most recent wool coat. He'd once confided that he kept the buttons to remind him of other days and people who he'd lost. "That's Clayton's. It was on his jacket. How did you get it?"

She waved a hand. "A man named Jeremiah at the general store happened to have some on hand. He just happens to know which insignia was on Clayton's coat." After depositing the button back into a fold of her dress, she continued."If Price asks me, I'll put him off a bit but then I'm going to very reluctantly let him know that a certain man of Clayton's description tried to trade it for some dry goods. That I'd heard the owner had gone south. What do you think?"

Miles doubted such a story would be believed. Price was certain they were close to finding Vanessa. Obviously, that was the case. But it was worth a try, he supposed. "I don't think Mexico is a good location."

"Why's that?"

"Clayton would never take Vanessa there; there's too much uncertainty and too many bands of renegades. If I was betting, I would think he'd go to Colorado Territory, to see his sister Corrine." He paused when he noticed that Lacy stilled— showing that his guess was correct. "But maybe we can say some place like Kansas? A place like Dodge City might be believed. Especially if you were to say that you heard Clayton and Vanessa were hoping to start anew."

"Start anew." Lacy almost smiled. "Wouldn't that be something?" she said wistfully. "Wouldn't it be something to really be able to start over, shiny and new?"

Miles felt so tainted, he knew he'd never feel shiny or worthwhile again. But the idea did have merit. "It could happen.Maybe."

"Maybe is good enough. I'll pass that on to Janey." And before Miles could ask her anything else, she turned the knob and cracked open the door. "I best get on out of here. Janey can only do so much, you know?"

"I'll take your word for it."

After peeking out into the hall, she poked her head back his way once more. "Thank you, Miles." And then she disappeared down the hallway with a rustle of orange skirts, leaving only a whisper of flowery perfume in her wake.

Within seconds, Miles felt her loss. When was the last time someone had asked his opinion and actually listened?

To his shame, he couldn't remember.

"I'm a little nervous to meet your sister," Vanessa admitted as they made their way from their campsite and toward the Bar M.

"Why?"

Vanessa chuckled at the question. Honestly, sometimes it seemed as if she was the more experienced of their pair."Clayton, I've heard about her for years."

Clayton grunted. Lee blew out an impatient breath as well.

Like cowboy, like horse. Vanessa struggled to explain. "I've heard so much about Corrine, I feel like I know her inside and out. I tell you, if she'd shown up at our hotel, I would've recognized her, I'm sure."

"Maybe." After a pause, he whispered, "People change."

"I know."

Clayton grunted again.

Motioning Coco to keep up, Vanessa added, "From the way you've described her, she sounds remarkable."

"She's a special woman." After a moment, he added, "But you are special too, Van."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Didn't you tell me she married her husband after he visited her only twice? After she doctored several soldiers in your unit?"

"You're making it sound like more than it was. During the war all women nursed the wounded. There wasn't an alternative."

"And didn't she practically raise your brother?"

"Our mama died giving birth to Scout. Corrine didn't have much choice." He shook his head. "Don't worry so much.Corrine is just
Corrine.
She's whiny and bossy and loud and caring. You're going to like her and she'll like you. I promise, sugar. That's really all that matters, don't you think?"