A Heart So Wild (5 page)

C
OURTNEY willed herself to think of happy things. She remembered the first time she had ridden without a sidesaddle, how shocked she'd been but how delighted to find riding so much easier. The time Mattie taught her how to swim. The first time she'd told Sarah to shut up; the expression on Sarah's face.

It wasn't working. She could still see that man lying dead in Lars Handley's store. Courtney had never before seen a dead man. She hadn't witnessed other killings in Rockley. And she had not seen the bodies of young Peter and Hayden Sorrel on the Brower farm the day her life had changed so terribly, for Berny Bixler had covered the bodies before she could see them.

She had made such a fool of herself in the store, screaming her head off until Mattie managed to quiet her and get her back to the hotel. She was lying on her bed now, a cold compress over her eyes.

“Here now, I want you to drink this.”

“Oh, Mattie, stop fussing over me.”

“Someone has to, 'specially after the way Sarah lit into you,” Mattie retorted, her blue eyes snapping indignantly. “The nerve of that
woman, tryin' to blame you for what happened. Why, I'm to blame more'n anyone else.”

Courtney lifted the compress to stare at Mattie. She couldn't bring herself to disagree. Mattie
had
made matters worse with her cockiness.

“I don't know what came over me,” Mattie continued more softly. “But I'm real proud of you, Courtney. Two years ago you'da fainted dead away. But you stood right up to that bastard.”

“I was scared to death, Mattie,” Courtney cut in. “Weren't you scared at
all?
”

“'Course I was,” the younger girl replied. “But when I get scared, I sass. Can't seem to help myself. Now drink this. It's my ma's cure-all, and'll have you feelin' good as new in no time.”

“But I'm not sick, Mattie.”

“Drink!”

Courtney drank the herbal concoction, then closed her eyes and lay back again. “Sarah
was
unfair, wasn't she?”

“'Course she was. If you ask me, she was just miffed 'cause she didn't recognize that owlhoot and didn't have a chance to sneak into his room and shoot him for that three-hundred-dollar reward.”

“Sarah shoot someone?”

“Hey, I wouldn't put anythin' past that one,” Mattie said, grinning. “I can just see her sneakin' down the hall in the dead of night with Harry's rifle—”

“Oh, stop, Mattie.” Courtney giggled.

“That's better. You gotta laugh about things. And look at it this way, Court, you got the rest of the day off from your work.”

“I would rather not think of it that way,” Courtney said ruefully.

“Now, Courtney, you're not gonna blame yourself. You can't help it if men go all stupid when they're around you. And that bastard deserved what he got. You know damn well what he'da done to you if he'd managed to get you alone.”

Courtney shivered. She did know. She had seen it in his eyes. And her pleas wouldn't have counted for beans.

“He really was a fool for thinkin' no one would stop him,” Mattie went on. “Well, maybe not. Fact is, no one woulda stopped him if that stranger hadn't. And Ward was given a choice. He coulda just left, but he drew on that fella. His choice.” After a pause, she went on. “You owe that stranger, Courtney. Wonder who he was.”

“Mr. Chandos,” Courtney said quietly.

“Damn!” Mattie exclaimed. “I shoulda known! God sakes, no wonder you were so curious about him. He's powerful good-lookin', isn't he?”

“I suppose.”

“You
suppose?
” Mattie grinned. “That man saved your virtue, Courtney. You have to at least thank him 'fore he leaves in the mornin'.”

“He's leaving?”

Mattie nodded. “I heard Charley and Snub talkin' about him in the lobby. He's takin' Ward's body over to Wichita for the reward.”

Courtney was suddenly exhausted. “Shouldn't you be getting home, Mattie?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Pearce'll understand why
I'm late after I tell him what happened, though. But you got to promise me you won't brood all evening.”

“I won't brood, Mattie,” Courtney replied softly. “It's just made me more determined than ever to get back East somehow. Things like this don't happen there. This isn't civilization, Mattie.”

Mattie smiled gently. “You had no luck findin' your aunt. All you finally found out was she really was dead, so you got no one back East, Courtney.”

“I know. But I can get a job, even if it's just doing what I've been doing for the last four years. I don't care. But I don't feel safe here, Mattie. Harry doesn't protect me. He barely knows I'm alive. I need to feel safe, and if I can't with Harry and Sarah, then at least I need the security of a safe place to live.”

“You've made up your mind to travel alone?”

“No,” Courtney said dismally. “No, I still couldn't do that. But you know, Hector Evans has it in mind to leave here. Maybe after what happened today he'll be ready to go back East. I could offer to pay him to take me with him. I do have that money Sarah doesn't know about.”

“Sure, you could pay Hector, but it'd be a pure waste of money, for he can't protect himself, let alone you. They're robbin' the trains in Missouri these days, you know that. You're likely to meet up with the James gang or somebody and lose what little money you have.”

“Mattie!”

“Well, it's the truth.”

“Then that's the chance I'll have to take.”

“Well, if you're set on goin', at least pick someone who ain't a coward to escort you. Reed would probably take you if you asked him real nice.”

“He would insist I marry him first.”

“Well, you could do that,” Mattie suggested. “Why not?”

“This is no teasing matter.” Courtney frowned. “You know I don't even like Reed.”

“All right.” Mattie grinned. “Well, I better go, Court. We can talk this over some more tomorrow. But don't you dare think of usin' Hector. Why, he wouldn't do anything if some ornery cuss walked off with you. Fact is, you need someone like Chandos. You wouldn't catch him lettin' someone mess with you. Did you think about askin' him?”

“No! I couldn't,” Courtney said with a shudder. “He's a killer.”

“God sakes, Courtney, haven't you been listenin' to anything I've said? That's just the kind of man you need to escort you. If you're so all-fired worried about feelin' safe, well…”

After Mattie left, Courtney lay there quietly thinking about what she had said. No, Mattie was wrong. If she was going farther west, or south, or even north, then she might feel safer with someone like Mr. Chandos to escort her. But she was going east, back to the sanity of civilization. The railroad wasn't that far away, either. It would be easy traveling. She just needed someone to travel with so she wouldn't be so alone.

But Mattie was right about one thing. She did owe Mr. Chandos the courtesy of a thank-you.

It took Courtney another hour to get up the courage to seek her rescuer out.

She hoped not to find him in his room. It was one of her jobs to supply fresh water and towels in the evening, but because it was dinnertime, she hoped Mr. Chandos would be in the dining room. Then she'd be able to tell Mattie truthfully that she had tried to thank him but hadn't been able to find him. No, she was already feeling guilty. She
should
thank him, she knew, but to come face-to-face with that alarming man! However, if he wasn't in his room, she could leave him a note.

She knocked on his door twice, holding her breath. She listened carefully, then tried the doorknob. It was locked. Well, so much for that. There were no duplicate keys to the rooms, for Harry firmly believed that if a guest locked his room, it was because he didn't want anyone to go in. True. But the other fact was, with the kind of guests they had, you were likely to get shot for entering a room without being asked in.

Courtney let her breath out, relieved. This man was dangerous, the kind of man she always took pains to avoid.

Yet she was, in some strange way, disappointed not to find him in. When she'd heard him tell Jim Ward to get his hand off her, she'd stopped being afraid. This gunfighter had made her feel safe. She hadn't felt that way since her father's death.

Courtney turned away, intending to write a note that she would leave for him at the desk. But suddenly she heard the door open. She
turned around again and froze, for he had his gun in his hand.

“Sorry,” he said, and tucked the gun into his pants. He opened his door wider and stepped back. “Come on in.”

“No, I—I couldn't.”

“That water's not for me?”

“Oh! Yes—yes, of course. I'm sorry—I—I'll just put these on your washstand.”

Courtney's face was burning as she hurried over to the washstand and set the water and towels down. She felt exactly the way she sounded, like a nervous twit. Oh, what must he think of her? First her hysterics in Handley's store after the shooting, and now this idiotic babbling.

It took all of Courtney's courage just to turn around and face him. She found him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his tall frame blocking her only exit, whether intentionally or not. Unlike her, there wasn't any tension in him. In fact, he exuded a careless self-assurance that made her feel even sillier.

He was staring at her with those beautiful sky blue eyes that seemed to strip her right to the core, bringing to light all her weaknesses. Of course, he revealed nothing about himself, no curiosity, no interest, not even a hint that he found her a little attractive. He made all her old self-consciousness return, and she found herself getting angry.

Get it over with, Courtney, and get the hell away from him before he destroys every bit of the self-confidence you've gained over the years
.

“Mr. Chandos—”

“No mister. Just Chandos.”

She hadn't noticed it before, but his voice had a deep, soothing timbre.

Flustered at being thrown off track, she wondered what she'd been about to say.

“You're scared,” he said bluntly. “Why?”

“No, no I'm not, really I'm not.”
Don't ramble, Courtney!
“I—I wanted to thank you. For what you did today.”

“For killing a man?”

“No! Not that!” Oh, God, why did he have to be so difficult? “I mean—I suppose that couldn't be helped. But you—you saved me—I mean, he wouldn't listen, and—and you stopped him—and—”

“Lady, you'd better get out of here before you fall apart.”

God, he saw right though her! Mortified, Courtney watched as he unwound and moved out of the doorway. She rushed past him.

She wouldn't have stopped, either, except that her shame over handling everything so badly overcame her mortification. She turned back. He was still staring at her with those incredible light blue eyes. But this time, his eyes soothed her, easing her fear and leaving her feeling strangely calm. She didn't understand it, but she was glad for it.

“I am grateful,” she said plainly.

“Don't be. I'll be paid for my trouble.”

“But you didn't know he was a wanted man.”

“Didn't I?”

He
had
been in the store. He might have overheard Mattie and her talking. Still…

“Whatever your reason, mister, you helped
me out,” Courtney insisted. “And whether you want it or not, you have my thanks.”

“Have it your way,” he said. His voice held dismissal.

Courtney nodded stiffly and walked away, picking up speed before she reached the stairs. She felt him staring after her. Thank God he would be gone tomorrow. The man totally unnerved her.

W
HEN Reed Taylor called on Courtney that evening, she refused to see him. This earned her a sharp scolding from Sarah, but she didn't care.

Sarah liked Reed. Courtney understood why. They were two of a kind, those two, both domineering and hard to get along with. And both had decided she should marry Reed. It didn't seem to matter what Courtney thought.

Yes, Sarah was all for her marrying Reed. Her favorite parting shot at the end of every tirade these days was, “I want you married and off my hands! I've supported you long enough!”

That was a joke. Courtney more than earned her keep. In fact, all Sarah provided the girl with was room and board. She had never given Courtney one penny for all the work she did, not even to buy personal essentials. Courtney had had to earn money by sewing for the Misses Coffman in her spare time. She'd had to, for she couldn't let Sarah know she had five hundred dollars hidden in her room.

That money had come from selling the few items of furniture that weren't wanted by the new owners of their house before Courtney and her father and Sarah left Chicago. Sarah didn't
know the money had been given to Courtney or that Courtney hadn't turned it over to her father. Edward was too preoccupied to ask for it, and in the upheaval of leaving, Courtney had forgotten about it. She left it tucked away in the bottom of her trunk, and there it stayed, even through the Indian attack.

She didn't know why she hadn't mentioned the money when Sarah wailed that they were penniless, that Edward should never have kept all his money on his person, but Courtney was glad now that she'd kept silent.

She supposed she would have brought the money forward if there had been a great need, but there hadn't been. Sarah quickly got them both jobs at the hotel, and not more than three months later, Sarah married Harry Ackerman, who owned the place. He wasn't as good a catch as Edward had been, but he had prospects.

The marriage did nothing good for Courtney. She stopped receiving wages for her work, and Sarah settled into the role of giving orders and doing nothing.

Courtney wasn't deceived as to why Sarah was anxious to have Courtney out of her life. Folks had started to refer to her as “old Sarah” because they thought of Courtney as her daughter. No matter how often Sarah pointed out that Courtney was nineteen and would be twenty before the year was out, people still saw them as mother and daughter. Sarah was only thirty-four, and that assumption was intolerable.

What had started Sarah nagging constantly about Courtney getting married was that she'd talked Harry into moving to fast-growing
Wichita. Their new hotel was already under construction. That was the place to make money, according to Reed, who was also making the move. His new Wichita saloon and gambling hall would be finished before the '73 droving season began.

Sarah didn't care whether Courtney moved to Wichita, just so long as she was no longer living with Sarah and Harry.

Courtney looked on the move with trepidation. Wichita would be ten times worse than Rockley for attracting unsavory elements. She didn't want to make the move with Sarah, and she certainly wouldn't marry Reed. She had, therefore, no options worth considering—until today's plan began forming.

She had always wanted to return East, and now she didn't want to stay in Rockley anymore and was afraid of living in Wichita under the careless protection of Harry.

Courtney tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally she lit the candle beside her bed and fetched the newspaper she had hidden in her bureau. She'd been looking forward to it all day. To her disappointment, it wasn't an Eastern paper, just a weekly out of Fort Worth, Texas, and eight months old at that. Still, it was a newspaper, even if it was worn and faded.

She spread the paper out on her bed and read the first few articles but skipped the one about a shoot-out. That reminded her too much of Mr. Chandos and dead Jim Ward.

Her mind shied away from Ward but stayed with Chandos, no matter how hard she tried not to think about him. She had to admit he appealed to her and had from the moment she
laid eyes on him. He wasn't the first man ever to attract her, but no one had ever disturbed her so thoroughly. Reed Taylor attracted her when he first came to town, but not after she got to know him.

With Chandos, the difference was that she knew who he was, what he was, yet she still found his appeal overwhelming.

He was lean and hard from head to foot, from his face to his flat, tapering waist to the tightly compact muscles of those long legs. The span of his shoulders would be too wide on a shorter man but was perfect for his tall frame. His face was deeply tanned, the skin unmarred except for a tiny scar high on his left cheek. But it was his mouth and eyes that combined to make his face so disturbingly handsome. The lips were straight, with just enough fullness to make them incredibly sensual. And the eyes, his most striking feature because they were so light next to his dark skin, were truly beautiful, with thick black lashes to frame them. Yet he was undeniably masculine.

Being near him, Courtney had been more aware of her femininity than ever before—which explained why she'd acted like such a ninny.

Courtney sighed. Her eyes gradually focused again on the newspaper, and the picture she had been staring at without seeing. And then her heart accelerated as she stared, disbelieving, at the picture. Was it possible? No—yes!

Quickly, she read the article that accompanied the fuzzy photograph, the first photograph she'd ever seen in a newspaper. The article was about the apprehension of one
Henry McGinnis, known cattle rustler in McLennan County, Texas, who'd been caught red-handed by rancher Fletcher Straton. Straton's men had brought McGinnis into the nearest town, Waco. There were no other names mentioned except the name of the marshal and the cowboys who had turned the prisoner over to him. The picture showed the rustler being led down the main street of Waco, and the townspeople gathered to watch. The photographer had focused on. McGinnis, and the onlookers behind him were not clear. But one of the men in the crowd looked exactly like Edward Harte.

Courtney threw her robe around her and grabbed the newspaper and the candle. She ran to Sarah and Harry's room, around the corner from hers. Her pounding on the door elicited a curse, but she burst inside. Harry groaned when he saw that it was only Courtney. Sarah glowered.

“Do you have any idea what time—”

“Sarah!” Courtney cried. “My father is
alive
.”

“What?” the two cried at once.

Harry gave Sarah a sidelong look. “Does that mean we aren't married, Sarah?”

“It means no such thing!” Sarah snapped. “Courtney Harte, how dare you—”

“Sarah, look,” Courtney interrupted, sitting on the bed to show her the photograph. “You can't tell me that's not my father.”

Sarah stared at the picture for a good while. Then her features relaxed. “You can go back to sleep, Harry. The girl's imagination has run away with her. Couldn't you have waited until
a decent hour, Courtney, before you started this nonsense?”

“It's not nonsense. That's my father! And the picture was taken in Waco, which proves—”

“Nothing,” Sarah scoffed. “So there is a man in Waco who vaguely resembles Edward—and I said
vaguely
. The picture isn't clear, and the man's features are blurred. Just because there's some resemblance, that doesn't make him Edward. Edward is dead, Courtney. Everyone agrees he couldn't possibly have survived captivity.”

“Everyone but me!” Courtney said angrily. How dared Sarah disregard such evidence? “I never believed he was dead. He could have escaped. He could—”

“Fool! Then where has he been for four years? In Waco? Why did he never try to find us?” Sarah gave a sigh. “Edward is dead, Courtney. Nothing has changed. Now go to bed.”

“I'm going to Waco.”

“You're what?” It took a moment, but Sarah began to laugh. “Of course you are. If you want to get yourself killed wandering off by yourself, by all means do so.” And then, abrasively, “Get out of here and let me sleep!”

Courtney started to say more, then changed her mind. She left the room quietly.

She didn't go back to her room. She wasn't imagining things. No one was going to tell her that wasn't her father in the picture. He was alive. She felt it instinctively, had always felt it. He had gone on to Waco—why, she did not know. Why he hadn't tried to find her she couldn't say, either. But she was going to find him.

To hell with Sarah. She scoffed for the simple reason that she didn't want Edward to be alive. She had found herself a husband who was going to make her rich and who suited her better than Edward had.

Courtney left the living quarters at the back of the hotel and entered the lobby. A candle burned at the desk, but there was no sign of young Tom who worked at the desk through the night in case some drifter came in. Without a desk clerk, a man might wake everyone to get a room. It had been known to happen.

Courtney gave little thought to Tom or to being seen in her robe and nightgown. With her candle in her hand and the precious newspaper tucked under her arm, she mounted the stairs to the guests' chambers.

She knew exactly what she was going to do. It was the boldest thing she had ever done in her life. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it, so she didn't think about it. She didn't hesitate even for a second before knocking on the door, though she had sense enough to knock quietly. What time was it? She didn't know, but she didn't want to wake anyone else, just Chandos.

She was knocking for the third time when the door flew open and she was jerked roughly inside. Her mouth was covered by a tight hand, and her back was pressed against the rocklike chest. Her candle fell, and with the closing of the door, the room was pitched into total darkness.

“No one ever tell you you can get killed waking a man in the middle of the night? Someone
half-asleep wouldn't have taken the time to notice you're a woman.”

He released her, and Courtney nearly crumbled to the floor.

“I'm sorry,” she began. “I—I had to see you. And I was afraid to wait until morning—afraid I might miss you. You are leaving in the morning, aren't you?”

She fell silent as a match flared. He picked up her candle—how on earth had he seen it in the dark?—and it came to life again. He set it on the small chest of drawers, and she saw that beside the chest were his saddlebags and saddle. She wondered if he had bothered to unpack and put away his things at all. She doubted it. He struck her as a man who would be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

She had been in this room hundreds of times to clean it, but tonight she was seeing it differently. The large woven rug had been rolled up and set out of the way against the wall. Why? And why had the rug by the bed been kicked under the bed? The towels and water she had brought earlier had been used, the towels hung over the washstand bar to dry. The single window was closed, the curtains drawn, and she imagined the window was locked. The cast-iron stove in the center of the room was cold. The straight-backed wooden chair beside it was hung with a clean blue shirt, the black vest and neckerchief he had worn earlier, and one belt. The gunbelt hung by the bed, its holster empty. His black boots were on the floor.

The sight of his rumpled bed mortified her, started her backing up toward the door. She had woken a man from his sleep. How could
she have done something so thoroughly improper?

“I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I shouldn't have disturbed you.”

“But you did. So you're not leaving until I know why.”

That sounded like a threat, and as it registered, she realized that he was bare-chested, wearing only pants, incompletely fastened, revealing an indecent amount of navel. She noted the wide mat of dark hair that stretched between his nipples and formed a T with the straight line of hair that ran down the center of his belly, disappearing into his pants. She also noted the short, wicked-looking knife stuck through one of his belt loops. His gun was probably tucked into the back of his pants.

No, he wouldn't have taken any chances before opening the door. Men lived by a different set of rules in the West, she knew, and men like this one never relaxed their guard.

“Lady?”

She cringed. There was no impatience in his voice, but she knew he must be fed up with her.

Hesitantly, she met his eyes. They were as unrevealing as they always were.

“I—I had hoped you might help me.”

As she had thought, his gun was on him. He reached behind him for it and moved to the bed, returning it to the holster. Then he sat down on the bed, staring at her thoughtfully. It was too much for Courtney, the rumpled bed, the half-dressed man. Her cheeks began to burn.

“You in some kind of trouble?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Will you take me to Texas?”

She said it in a rush, before she could change her mind. And she was glad.

There was a brief pause before he said, “You're loco, right?”

She blushed. “No. I assure you I am serious. I have to go to Texas. I have reason to believe my father is there, in Waco.”

“I know Waco. There's more than four hundred miles between here and there—half of it straight through Indian lands. You didn't know that, did you?”

“I knew it.”

“But you weren't thinking of going that way?”

“It's the quickest route, isn't it? That's the route I would have traveled four years ago with my father if—Well, never mind. I know the dangers. That's why I'm asking you to escort me.”

“Why me?”

She had to think for a moment before the obvious answer came to her. “There is no one else here I can ask. Well, there is one man, but his price would be too high. And you proved today that you're more than capable of protecting me. I have every confidence that you would get me to Waco safely.” She stopped, wondering whether to say the other thing. “Well, there is one other reason, strange as it may sound. You seem somehow…familiar to me.”