Lone Star Lover (7 page)

“Who does this room belong to?” he asked, his gaze going to the chamber pot shoved halfway under the bed, before returning to her face. He looked disappointed, almost as if he’d already passed judgment over an answer she’d not yet given.

She took a deep breath. “No one.” She wasn’t lying. Not really.

“Who does that dress belong to?”

“Trixie.”

He seemed surprised. “But this isn’t her room.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I’ll fetch some water,” she said, scooping the dress off the stool. “Cook is making beans and cornbread for supper, but if you’re still hungry I’ll check if there’s more biscuits and broth.”

“Rebecca.”

She tried to move past him to the door but he blocked her way. She stared at the floor. “I won’t be long.”

“I’m not judging you.”

That made her look up. “I don’t understand.”

“I know what you do. How you make your living. I imagine it’s difficult being a woman alone here.”

Their eyes met, briefly, and then she had to look away. He could deny his disappointment but she saw it lurking in his eyes. He didn’t understand her situation, how she’d ended up in this hellhole, but to explain to him would make everything worse. If he knew where she’d been, what she’d done, he’d hate her. He’d push her as far away as he could.

He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

She couldn’t speak. How could he be so kind? How could there be tenderness in his eyes when he knew what she was?

Kitty had warned her. Men treated whores differently than other women, some men even treated their horses better than they did a whore. But not Jake…he was kind and gentle and…

Oh, God. The sting of tears pricked the back of Rebecca’s eyes. She quickly lowered her lids, but it was too late. Jake used his thumb to wipe away the moisture that seeped from the corner.

“Ah, Rebecca, am I making you cry?”

She shook her head. “I’m not crying,” she whispered, her voice thin and uncertain.

“Okay.” He smiled. And then he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Lightly, as light as the wings of a butterfly.

To her amazement, she leaned toward him, her entire body responding to the gentle kiss. She hadn’t even known she’d moved until she found her palms flat against his chest and the heels of her boots off the floor. He slanted his head ever so slightly, his lips parting. Rebecca strained a bit higher, her sudden eagerness sending a tingle down to her toes. She felt her own lips parting, her eyes drifting closed.

Her boldness shocked her. Shamed her to her core. She stumbled backward, and in her haste, shoved him away harder than she’d intended. Without looking at his face, she hastened out the door. Jake was a decent man, like none she’d ever met. She’d been made a whore, and he hadn’t judged her for it. But how forgiving would he be if he learned she’d been an Indian’s whore?

The other two men each nodded at Kitty as she set their beer and whiskeys in front of them. She purposely gave Corbin his beer last, and he slid her an evil look letting her know she’d pissed him off.

She didn’t give a shit. Sure, she had a couple more lines around her eyes and her bosom wasn’t as firm as it once was, but Wade still visited her more than he did the other girls. They had a history, her and Wade, that went clear back to San Antonio. He told her things he wouldn’t tell another living soul. Mostly because he understood she knew how to keep her mouth shut. Could be he even knew that in spite of everything that was going on around Diablo Flats, she still loved him.

“It ain’t right him staying upstairs with the whore.” Corbin picked up his mug of beer and chugged half of it down. “Bad for business. How can she make us any money?”

Kitty picked up the tray. “Jake isn’t well enough to travel or fend for himself.”

“You think I give a shit about that?” Corbin glared at her with such hatred she got a bit weak in the knees. “Get me more whiskey. And bring the goddamn bottle this time.”

His voice boomed off the walls. A couple of heads turned, and then the men went back to staring at their beer. Like every Saturday night, the saloon was crowded with cowpunchers who worked at the nearby ranches. Normally the boys tended to get rowdy, but tonight everyone wore long faces and talked quietly amongst themselves. So far, only Lola had snared a customer, one of the drifters who was headed south to the border and had remarked on the place looking like a funeral parlor.

Kitty figured the downcast mood was on account of what happened to Otis last night. Folks admired him because he was an honorable man, generous with the boys that worked for him and with neighbors who needed a helping hand. Then, too, everyone likely was worried about who might get strung up next.

Trixie and Ruby were watching the card players, and when Kitty glanced over at them, Ruby took her meaning and went to the bar to get a bottle.

“There’s no room at Doc’s for Jake,” Kitty said casually. “Otis is laid up there.”

Bart and Moses gave each other quick looks under the rims of their hats, and finished their shots.

Glaring at her, Corbin spit in a spittoon three feet away, not caring that he’d missed.

“Too bad about what happened to him.” Kitty ignored the vulgar man and planted a hand on her hip, easy like, showing him he didn’t rile her none. Letting him smell weakness would be bad. “Makes a body wonder who these vigilantes are. Everyone from around here knows Otis is no rustler.”

“I told you to get me my damn whiskey.” Corbin leaned close, spit flying from his mouth. “I ain’t gonna tell—”

Ruby set the bottle in front of him.

He grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she whimpered. “I didn’t ask you, now did I?”

Kitty picked up the bottle, ready to smash it across his head. “Let her go.”

Corbin stared at her with a look of disbelief, that inched into a feral smile.

“Come on now, Kitty, ain’t no need for this.” Bart touched her arm. “Corbin, let go of Ruby.”

Corbin locked gazes with Kitty for another few seconds, and then flung Ruby toward the next table. She caught the back of a chair, saving herself from ending up on the hard plank floor. Sending the back of Corbin’s head a resentful look, she fixed her bodice and then scurried to the bar.

Kitty reluctantly set the bottle back on the table. “You know Wade don’t take to you hurting the girls.”

“Shut up, Kitty,” Bart said in a hushed voice, his normally ruddy face dark with warning.

She heeded his counsel. Bart wasn’t one to interfere unless there was big trouble on the horizon. Could be Corbin had been drinking more than Kitty realized.

Behind her, she heard the door to the saloon open and then Wade’s voice, and allowed herself a small victorious smile. Corbin wouldn’t bother her with Wade here.

“Ain’t you the lucky lazy-ass whore,” Corbin mumbled as he uncapped the bottle.

She adjusted her skirt and touched her hair, before turning around. Wade had stopped at the bar, but now he strode toward her, his duster flapping against his long legs as he walked. His black hair, graying at the temples, was damp from his bath, and swept away from his lean clean-shaven face. Funny how he could still make her heart flutter after all these years.

“Don’t you look pretty tonight, Kitty.” He winked and kissed her cheek, before pulling out a chair.

She smiled, mostly because he said the same thing every night he was in town. Which was happening less and less lately. Sometimes he was gone for days. Patrolling the border and hunting rustlers, or so he claimed. Kitty had her doubts. Not that she would ever voice them.

He removed his hat and sat down. “You boys eat yet?”

Bart and Moses nodded. Corbin didn’t answer.

She touched Wade’s shoulder. “I’ll get you a glass, honey.”

He caught her hand as it started to trail away. “Lloyd’s telling Cook to fry me up a steak, and then he’s bringing me a beer.” He glanced at Bart and Moses, but then set his sights on Corbin. “You boys take it easy on the whiskey. We ride before sunup.”

Bart shifted uncomfortably.

Moses snorted with disgust. “But Boss, me and the boys are tired. We’ve been out for five nights straight and—”

Wade slammed his hand on the table, making the glasses rattle. He pierced Moses with a steely-eyed warning. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” he said in a calm voice. He had a powerful enough temper, although it didn’t show much. At six-four and as fast as he was with a gun, he generally didn’t have to ask for anything twice.

Moses looked pissed, but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. He finished his drink and then scraped back from the table. “Then I best get some sleep.”

“Sit down, honey,” Wade said to Kitty, and kicked out the chair Moses had left empty. “Have a glass of whiskey with us.”

Kitty sat and reached for the bottle. Though she’d much rather have Wade to herself, she normally didn’t mind sitting with him and the boys for a spell. But not tonight. The murderous way Corbin was staring at her put her on edge. Naturally he’d never let Wade catch him, but she knew there was something no good going on in that small wicked brain of his.

“Glad you’re here, Kitty,” Corbin said. “Time to let Wade know what’s going on up there with that squaw whore.”

Wade leaned forward, his hand shooting out to grab Corbin’s wrist. Whiskey sloshed out of his glass onto the table. Keeping his voice low, Wade said, “Keep your fucking mouth shut. No one talks about where we got her. Who’s gonna pay for pussy that’s been had by an Indian?”

Corbin yanked his arm away. “She ain’t spread her legs for no one yet.” He glared at Kitty. “You keep sending her over to Doc’s instead of keeping her upstairs where she can make us some money.”

Wade frowned, his gaze narrowing on Kitty. “That true?”

Kitty deliberately shrugged one shoulder, slowly, coyly, leaning toward Wade, and drawing his attention to the deep V of her purple dress. “Doc’s been busy and needed someone. All the other girls have their regulars. You always tell me to keep Doc happy so he’ll stick around to patch y’all up when you need it.”

Corbin swore viciously. “But that ain’t the worse part. Now she’s got some pretty boy staying up there with her.”

Wade’s face darkened. “What?”

Kitty smiled prettily. “It’s not what you think. Doc has Otis in his sickroom, and no bed for another patient. And this Jake fella is still sick, with his head and side hurt.”

“So?”

“Isabella has no room at the boardinghouse, the hotel is gonna be full up with the railroad people, and Doc still needs to look in on him from time to time.”

“Shit.” Wade looked at her as if she’d gone loco. “I don’t care.”

“Look, honey, I was thinking of you when I promised Doc we’d look after him here.” She ignored Corbin’s gloating stare and ran her hand suggestively up Wade’s thigh. “Jake didn’t have a gun or horse when Slow Jim found him. No money neither. He can’t recall what happened. But he’s big and strong and smart, and I figured with you being down a man since Lefty got himself killed, you might need another gun.”

“This is bullshit, Boss.” Corbin looked nervous. “If he’s hurt, he ain’t gonna do us no good.”

“He’s healing real fast,” Kitty said quickly. “And he’s good with a gun. I saw him grab Doc’s Colt so fast when he got spooked that it damn near made my head spin.” God help her, she hoped she wasn’t lying about him being good with a gun.

“Hmm.” Wade thoughtfully pursed his lips. “And he said he wanted work?”

She shrugged. “Claims he’d be willing to do anything.”

Corbin snorted. “How do we know we can trust him?”

“We don’t.” Wade took a considering sip of beer. “We’ll have to be real careful, is all. Until we know that we can.”

Kitty breathed with relief, glad that Lloyd showed up with Wade’s steak and potatoes at that moment. The bartender set the plate down and asked if anyone needed anything else. Kitty shook her head, kept her eyes on him and then Wade, anywhere but on Corbin. She’d won. He’d lost. He was going to be out for blood.

She hadn’t meant to push him. It would do her no good to have Corbin watching her every move. At least not until Jake Malone was back on his feet and could get the hell out of here. He seemed a decent enough fella, and she hoped her gut feeling wasn’t wrong about him. Though he wasn’t her chief concern. It was Rebecca she cared about. The poor girl would die here if she didn’t get out soon.

Oh, how much she reminded Kitty of herself when she’d been young and naïve and still full of hope. But it was much too late for her to crawl out of this snake pit. Not so for Rebecca. In some crazy way, if Kitty could help liberate her, she felt a small piece of herself would be free, as well.