Behind His Blue Eyes (13 page)

Just a tilt of his head . . . a few inches . . . and his lips would brush hers.

The idea of it sent blood pumping through his veins.

He wanted it. One kiss. Wanted it more than he'd wanted anything in a long time. More even than he'd ever wanted Eunice Eckhart.

Instead, he curbed the impulse and gave her the answer she needed. “I didn't set fire to your cabin, Audra.”

She didn't react—no relief, surprise, confusion, nothing—but continued to stare into his face, as if all the answers she sought were hidden behind his eyes.

Had she heard him? Did she believe him? Did she even care?

Then she gave him a slow smile that reached all the way into his chest. “I know, Ethan. You're too honorable a man to cause such needless harm.”

At one time, he had thought so, too.

Thirteen

W
hile Audra and Winnie hurried Mr. Pearsall upstairs and Curtis took the horses to the livery, Ethan remained behind to answer questions. Even though they had only been in Heartbreak Creek a short time, the Pearsalls had gained quite a few friends—probably due to Audra's efforts during the fire. After his assurances that the old man was all right, the crowd dispersed, and he went with the sheriff and the Rylanders into the hotel.

“The kitchen open? I haven't eaten decent food since Sunday morning.”

Tait Rylander's dark brows rose in surprise. “No one fed you at the infirmary?”

“Doc's wife did.”

“Ah.” Lucinda nodded in understanding. “Janet's such a dear, bless her heart, but her cooking will never win a ribbon at the fair. Come into the dining room. It's early yet for supper, but I'll see if Cook can fix you something.”

Careful of his bandaged hands, Ethan toweled off most of the dirt and ash in the washroom off the back hall, then went into the deserted dining room, where he found Tait and Brodie standing over a table, studying construction drawings. Thinking they might relate to the bridge line, Ethan wandered over.

“Luce wants to put it where the old assay office is,” Tait was telling the sheriff when Ethan stopped behind them. “But I'm not sure we want tracks cutting through the middle of town. What do you think, Hardesty?” He turned the papers so Ethan could see them. “This is a rough plan of the Heartbreak Creek Station.”

Ethan made himself look at the crude drawings, when what he wanted to do was turn around and walk back out the door. “You drew these?”

“I did.”

It was a simple floor plan: down one side of the building, two ticket windows, a railroad office, and a men's lavatory—on the other, an open alcove that housed two small shops and a women's retiring room and lavatory. The center of the structure was an open thirty-six-square-foot waiting area. Beside the wall facing the tracks was written one word: glass.

Ethan's throat grew tight. “How tall is that window wall?”

“About twenty-four feet at the peak.”

“How do you plan on stabilizing it? Glass is fragile. Without a sturdy foundation, a strong wind can bring it down. And where are the support posts in the open area? You can't span thirty-six feet without them. Have you factored in the snow load in the roof pitch? And if your peak runs front to back, where will the snow slide?” Realizing he had revealed too much, he shoved the drawings away. “Designing a building isn't as simple as it looks.”

“Apparently not.”

Aware that the two men were staring at him, he put on a smile. “But what do I know? Best hire an architect. And hope he knows what he's doing. Food,” he added with forced enthusiasm when a server came out of the kitchen with a loaded tray.

While Ethan ate, Tait and Sheriff Brodie drank coffee and discussed the Chinaman's murder and what Brodie's son, R. D., had learned in the encampment by the rail yard—which was nothing more than Ethan had suspected: no one believed the murderer was Chinese.

“R.D. said there's a lot of distrust and resentment toward Tim Gallagher, one of the Irish foremen,” Brodie said. “But no one is accusing him outright. I met the fellow. Didn't much like him. Or that silver-handled whip of his. But his drinking buddies at the Red Eye have vouched for his whereabouts up until the fire alarm sounded.”

“I've already wired the home office to send out a replacement overseer,” Ethan told them. “Should be here in a week or two. Meanwhile, I'll keep an eye on him.”

Tait nodded. “Good. Hopefully everything will settle down once we start laying tracks. While you were laid up, Hardesty, the man in charge of the graders asked when his men could start. I told him tomorrow they could begin work on the stretch between the Boot Creek terminal and the rail yard here. I hope that's all right with you. I didn't want to overstep, but his men are getting restless.”

Ethan flashed him a grateful smile. “You did the right thing, Tait. I appreciate the help. Meanwhile, I'll send work gangs into the canyon to start felling trees.”

They discussed a few supply issues, and how the owner of the mercantile, Cal Bagley, was upset because the Chinese were bringing in their own food, rather than buying from him. “I'll throw business his way when I can,” Ethan said. “But that's the way the Chinese operate. They have their own cooks and their own food supplies, and since the railroad doesn't pay their board, there's nothing I can do about it.”

“He's a whiner, anyway,” Brodie muttered. “Pay him no mind.”

Tait refilled his coffee mug. “I'll let Miss Pearsall know we have an alternate route, so she needn't worry about the right-of-way. But now that her cabin is gone, she'll need a place to stay. Declan, you have any ideas?”

“Someplace close,” Ethan suggested. “I don't want her out of town until we find the Chinaman's killer and whoever is sabotaging the sluice.”

Both men turned to look at him.

“You really think she's in danger?” Brodie asked.

“Probably not. But why take the risk?”

“I'll ask around,” Brodie said. “The Arlan place was empty. I'll take a look at it.”

Ethan turned to Rylander. “Audra told me your wife was looking into employment for her. You know anything about that?” Perhaps now that construction on the bridge line would soon start, Mrs. Rylander might need help here at the hotel. Audra would be good at that. And she would be safer here with a lot of people around. Her father was already a handful. It wouldn't get any easier, no matter where they lived, but at least here she would have other eyes watching over him.

“Lucinda is expecting to hear on that this week. I'll let you know.”

Brodie leaned over to retrieve his hat from a nearby table. After shoving back a fall of dark hair, he put it on, then rose. “And I'll let you know about the Arlan place and if that prospector shows up, Hardesty. Tait said you wanted to talk to him.”

“I do, Sheriff. If there's another surveyor working the canyon, I'd like to know about it.”

After the sheriff left, Tait slouched in his chair, one arm hooked over the back, and studied Ethan in that probing way he had. Ethan could guess what was coming, but continued to eat as best he could with his bandaged hands. When he finally shoved his empty plate away, Rylander spoke.

“You were an architect.” A statement, not a question.

Ethan didn't try to evade it. This man was too smart to fool, and Ethan respected him too much to lie to him. “In California.” Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, he stood.

“I could use your help,” Rylander said before he could escape.

“I don't do that anymore. Find somebody else.” Then before more questions came, he said, “Give my thanks to your wife,” then he turned and left the room.

Out on the boardwalk, he paused to let his nerves settle, then headed to the infirmary to get Renny and have Doc check his hands. They weren't hurting as bad as they had earlier, but he must have done damage getting Pearsall down that slope; when he pulled off his gloves, blood spots showed through the gauze wrappings.

“Mr. Hardesty.”

Recognizing the voice, he turned to see Audra hurrying up behind him, that worried furrow between her brows.

“How's your father?” he asked as she drew near.

“Resting. I wanted to thank you for finding him. You were very kind and patient with him. Oh, and I brushed your jacket and had the bellboy put it in your room. Thank you for loaning it to him.”

She'd washed and changed. Her hair was still wet, and damp curls fanned her face in a wispy halo. The smell of soap wafted up to him when she stopped beside him. It sent a rush of desire surging through him.

“I'm glad he's all right,” he said, struggling to block the image of water beading on the creamy flesh he had glimpsed earlier through that gap in her blouse.

“I spoke to Mr. Rylander a moment ago. He said you've come up with an alternate route that avoids our property.”

He nodded, expecting gratitude.

Instead, he got a finger-poke in his chest. “How could you do such a thing?”

“I thought that's what you wanted. Now you won't have to worry about granting us the right-of-way. We can proceed without it.”

“I've changed my mind. With the cabin gone, I'll have to pay rent elsewhere, and I need the money you promised.”

Ethan lifted his hands in frustration. “So now you
want
to grant the right-of-way?” After all the arguing and plotting another route, they were back where they had started?

“Heavens! What have you done to your hands?” Before he could answer, she grabbed his wrist, which surprised him so much he lost his train of thought.

“You're bleeding. You foolish man. What were you thinking?”

Still addled, he looked down where she cradled his hand within touching distance of her breasts. “It's . . . ah . . . not that bad.” If he straightened his fingers just so—

Abruptly, she whirled and began towing him down the street. “Let's get you to Doctor Boyce.”

Happily he followed behind her, enjoying the way her hips whipped from side to side as she hurried along. The woman had a way of moving that awakened all sorts of untoward thoughts. But as soon as he was seated in the office, with Audra hovering at his side and the doctor sorting through torture tools, his amusement faded.

Most of the blisters had burst. “What did you do?” Doc asked irritably as he began to cut away the torn skin. “Run a race on your hands?”

Swallowing hard, Ethan looked away. “I tried to be careful.”

“It wasn't entirely his fault,” Audra put in.

“Did you do your exercises?”

“I meant to.”

“He was helping my father.”

If what Doc was doing didn't hurt so much, Ethan might have enjoyed her staunch defense. Although it was a bit unsettling that she thought he couldn't defend himself if need be.

Doc wasn't mollified. “Might have guessed a man foolish enough to stuff a burning mattress out a window wouldn't be smart enough to do what I told him. Hold still.”

Audra scowled at him. “That's how you burned your hands?”

Ethan shrugged.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You didn't ask.”

Doc finished with one hand and started on the other. Ethan started to sweat. And bleed.

Audra worried her thumbnail and watched the doctor cut and blot. “What else haven't you told me?” she asked in a strained voice.

Ethan looked at her, glad for the distraction. She had that squint going that told him she was fretting. When had he been added to her list of people to manage? “Don't you have enough to worry about, Miss Audra?”

Color bloomed on her cheeks. “Pearsall,” she muttered, and looked away.

Doc glanced at Ethan, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Heard your cabin burned, Miss Pearsall. Guess you'll be needing another place to stay.”

“Do you happen to know of any places to rent? Preferably in town?”

“Not offhand. But I'll ask around.”

“And perhaps while you're at it, you could see if anyone needs a horse and buggy.”

Ethan looked at her in surprise. “You're selling Cricket?”

“If I'm living in town, I'll have no need of him, or a buggy.”

“You'll still require transportation.”

“I can walk. Besides, I can't afford to board him at the livery forever.”

“You're not selling your horse.”

That brought those hackles up. “Oh?”

Aware that Doc was watching, Ethan pasted on a smile. “I'll buy him.”

She started to argue, then saw Doc's grin. “We'll discuss it later.”

“How is your father, Miss Pearsall?” Doc asked, when it was apparent the show was over.

She heaved a great sigh. “Not well. Ever since the fire, he's been coughing, and after getting wet this morning, I'm concerned he'll come down with a chill.”

Doc finished his cutting and fitted the splints back on Ethan's hands. “Is he running a fever?”

“Not when I left.”

“Does he wander off often?”

“Lately, yes.”

While Doc re-bandaged, Audra told him about her father's condition.

Ethan admired her concern for her ailing parent. His own parents had passed long ago, and it had been years since he'd heard from either of his sisters. But he could see the toll the constant fretting was taking on her. She was starting to get the pinched look of a woman with too many worries and not enough joy. He was glad she had the Abrahams there to help her. But they were aging, too, and before long, she might have two more elderly folks to tend. He doubted even a woman with Audra's energy could carry that kind of burden for long.

Doc tied off the last strip of gauze. “Give him a hot foot-bath this evening, and a good, strong dose of ginger tea before retiring. You're staying at the hotel?”

Audra nodded. “For now.”

“I'll come by to see him in the morning. You, too,” he added to Ethan. “Leave these splints on until then. And get your horse on your way out. I'm not running a stable here.”

“I'll take him back to the livery.” Ethan held up his splinted hands. “But I'm not sure I'll be able to saddle him.”

“You don't mind helping him, do you, Miss Pearsall?” Doc sent Audra a crafty grin. “I've got another patient due.”

“I'd be happy to.” But she didn't look happy as she went with Ethan to the small shed where Renny's tack was stored.

“My offer to buy Cricket and the buggy is sincere,” Ethan said a few minutes later as he slipped the bridle over the horse's head.

“You have no need of another horse, much less a buggy.” She buckled the throatlatch, tossed the saddle blanket over Renny's back, then turned, hands on hips. “And I have no need of charity, either.”