Schulze, Dallas (18 page)

“I’m not sure Mrs. Lyman agrees,” Lila said, remembering the
uneasy look Dot had given her as she departed in Sara’s wake.

“Don’t you be worrying about Dot. She’ll come around. She’s a good
soul but she’s been playing fart catcher to Sara for so long, it’s hard for her
to think on her own. Oh, my!” She slapped one hand to her mouth, her eyes
rounding with horror above it as if she’d just realized what she’d said.

Lila stared at her, shock warring with amusement. “I don’t believe
I’ve ever heard that particular phrase before,” she said, struggling to keep
her tone level.

“It’s a horrid old saying my granda used to use.” Bridget pressed
her hands to her cheeks as if to cool their heat. “If Joseph knew I’d said such
a thing, I’d never hear the end of it. Though it is true,” she added, with a
quick spurt of mischief. “I swear, Dot hardly dares to take a breath without
asking Sara’s permission. And you can be sure that she tells Sara every bit of
rumor she hears so beware what you say to her.”

“Bishop said she was the second biggest gossip this side of
Julesburg and that her husband was the biggest.”

Bridget’s chuckle was warm and rich, seeming almost too big for a
woman her size. “I always knew Sheriff McKenzie was a man of great sense. And
he’s confirmed it by marrying a fine, sensible woman such as yourself.” She
linked her arm through Lila’s in an impulsive gesture of friendship. “Introduce
me to these two children of his. I’ve heard tell the little girl’s as pretty as
her name and that the boy is the spittin’ image of his da. I’d have thought the
good Lord would be breaking the mold after making a handsome devil like your
husband. He certainly should have anyway, to be protecting vulnerable female
hearts.”

Lila allowed herself to be led over the counter where the children
were waiting after having selected their candy. Though it should have been too
soon to tell, she knew she’d found a friend in Bridget Sunday.

***

Nearly a week after her arrival in Paris, Lila was reasonably
pleased with the progress she’d made toward establishing a place for herself
and the children in the little town. She was still considered an outsider, of
course. That was something only time would change. But she’d made the
acquaintance of most of the townspeople and had been, for the most part,
welcomed. She had even managed to have tea with Sara Smythe without either of
them saying a single sharp word to the other—a not-insignificant
accomplishment, considering their first meeting.

Not that they were ever likely to become friends, Lila thought as
she walked past Fitch’s General Store. But they might manage to remain civil
acquaintances, as long as they didn’t spend too much time in each other’s
company.

Just as she might have guessed, Sara was the driving force behind
the Women’s Charitable Fund of Paris, an organization that seemed to be
dedicated less to dispensing charity than it was to sponsoring the
aggrandizement of the small mining town. At the moment, the fund was trying to
raise money to install marble pillars in front of the Bank of Paris. The
absurdity of attaching a pseudo-Greek façade to the squat little building
apparently escaped Sara, who’d solemnly explained that beautification of one’s
surroundings was an important step toward improving the moral tone of a
community. The fact that her husband happened to own the bank didn’t seem to
strike her as a conflict of interest, but the idea might have occurred to
others because, after three years, the charitable fund was still woefully short
of having the required amount. Sara had admitted as much in the disgruntled
tone of a great leader whose followers were proving annoyingly slowwitted.

Thinking of it two days later was enough to make Lila’s mouth
curve in a smile as she stepped through the door of the hotel. She paused to
allow her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit lobby.

“Afternoon, Miz McKenzie.” Clem Lyman greeted her from his usual
post behind the lobby desk. Lila couldn’t imagine what he found to occupy his
time. Certainly the hotel was not so overrun with guests as to require his
presence at all times. On the other hand, the lobby, with its big windows
fronting onto the street, offered as good a place as any to keep tabs on the
town’s comings and goings.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lyman.” Lila’s greeting was friendly. Despite
their predilection for gossip, she’d come to like both the Lymans. There was
something almost childlike about their eagerness to know—and share—everyone’s
business. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“It is, at that,” he agreed with a smile. “You’re looking lovely
yourself, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Have you ever known a woman to mind being told she was lovely?”

His smile widened into a grin. “Now that you mention it, can’t say
that I have. Where are the children?” he asked, looking past her as if
expecting to see them dawdling behind.

“They’re at Mrs. Sunday’s. They were having such a nice time
playing with her children that she offered to let them stay.”

“Gives you a bit of a break, doesn’t it?”

“It does that.” Lila struggled to keep from sounding too
appreciative of the break but it wasn’t easy. She’d become very fond of Angel
this past week and she thought that Gavin was even starting to thaw toward her
a bit, but she couldn’t deny that the thought of a few hours alone sounded like
sheer heaven. And Bridget knew it, God bless her. Her offer to keep the
children had been as much for Lila’s sake as theirs.

“With my five, two more won’t make a bit of difference,” she’d
insisted. “They’ll have a splendid time and it’ll give you some time to
yourself. If you can’t make use of it, then you’re not as smart as I think you
are.”

Lila knew exactly how to make use of this unexpected gift of
privacy. One thing she’d learned about children was that they made long, hot
baths a near impossibility. She just didn’t have that much time to herself. “If
it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Mr. Lyman, I’d like to have a bath brought up
to my room.”

He pondered her request a moment, his round face thoughtful. Just
when she was wondering if begging would help, Clem nodded his head.

“I reckon we could manage that. Take a little time to heat the
water, but, if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll see to it.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” she assured him, trying not to look too
pathetically grateful. “Mrs. Sunday has invited Mr. McKenzie and me to join her
family for dinner tonight and she’s keeping the children until then, so I have
plenty of time.” She was turning away from the desk as she spoke, eager to go
to her room and make preparations for her bath.

“That reminds me, the sheriff was here looking for you a little
bit ago.”

“Was it anything important?” Lila asked, turning back to look at
him. Bishop hadn’t exactly been seeking out her company these past few days.
Other than dinner each night in the hotel dining room, they’d barely seen one
another, which suited her just fine. She wasn’t sure who was avoiding whom and
didn’t really care as long as they were successful. He created too many
conflicting emotions, made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, remember
things she didn’t want to remember.

“Didn’t say what it was about,” Clem admitted with obvious
disappointment. “But he seemed a bit perturbed when he couldn’t find you. Said
to tell you to wait for him here.”

“He did, did he?” Lila’s eyebrows rose.
Wait for him here?
Was there no limits to his arrogance that he thought he could simply ask
someone else to pass on his instructions and she’d jump to obey? Her first
impulse was to march right out of the hotel. Never mind that she didn’t have
anywhere else to go, she simply didn’t want to be there when Bishop arrived.

“Still want that bath?” Clem asked, apparently reading something
of her thoughts.

“Of course.” Lila forced a surprised smile. She wasn’t going to
let Bishop spoil her little treat. No doubt there’d be other opportunities to
make it clear that he couldn’t expect to snap his fingers and have her jumping
to obey. In fact, she was willing to bet that there would be frequent
opportunities for such demonstrations. “Just bring the water upstairs when it’s
ready.”

And if the water wasn’t hot enough, she probably could set it
steaming all on her own, she thought as she climbed the stairs. She’d give
Bishop a piece of her mind just as soon as she saw him. He needed to understand
that there were some things she simply would not tolerate.

He was going to have to explain to Lila the way things were around
here, Bishop thought as he stalked down the hallway. Checking back at the hotel
had been his last stop before he started tearing the whole damned town apart to
find her. For the last few days, he’d kept an eye on her as she made the town’s
acquaintance. Since the jail was located in the center of the main street, it
hadn’t been difficult to track her comings and goings.

This afternoon, for example, he’d glanced out the window in time
to see her and the children go into Fitch’s. Since he was sitting at his desk
doing paperwork, it would have been simple enough to keep an eye out and see
where she went from there.

Or it would have been if he hadn’t been called to settle a dispute
between two of the patrons of the Red Lady Saloon. The disagreement had begun
over the worn favors of one of the girls who worked the upstairs rooms. It had
started with harsh words and soon advanced to an exchange of blows, an event
that wouldn’t have been brought to his attention if it had ended there. But
when it escalated to knives, the bartender had sent someone to get the sheriff.

By the time Bishop arrived on the scene, one of the men had his
opponent pinned to the floor and was about to cut his throat. If he hadn’t felt
it necessary to pause to enjoy the terror in his victim’s eyes, he would have
succeeded. But his delay gave Bishop time to rap the butt of his pistol up
against the side of his head, ending the fight in a summary manner. He’d hauled
both men to jail and tossed them in a cell to give them time to contemplate the
error of their ways.

Incidents like this were common enough that they hardly rated a
mention in the
Paris Examiner.
Bishop wouldn’t have thought anything of
it if it hadn’t been for the fact that, while he was dealing with the
quarrelsome miners, Lila had managed to disappear.

This wasn’t Pennsylvania, where she’d been able to do whatever she
liked. This was a mining town in the midst of the far-from-tamed West. There
were dangers here she probably couldn’t even imagine. Not the least of those
dangers was his own desire to shake her until her teeth rattled, he thought
grimly.

After unlocking the door of the room Lila and Angel had been
using, he pushed it open and stepped inside. At first glance, the room seemed
empty. The bed was neatly made, one of Lila’s dresses laid out across it; a
pair of Angel’s tiny shoes sat next to the single chair, the toes turned at
drunken angles; but there was no sign of the room’s occupants. But Clem had
said Lila was there so, unless she’d slipped down the back stairs to avoid
going through the lobby, she had to be there. That being the case, there was
only one place to look, he thought, fixing his attention on the screen that
blocked off one corner of the room. He started toward it.

Bishop had heard it said that cleanliness was next to godliness.
He didn’t feel qualified to speak to the holiness of it, but there was
certainly something to be said for the sheer beauty of a naked woman sitting in
a tub full of water. Even if her eyes were spitting fire.

“You!” Lila put more venom into the single word than most men
could put into a string of profanity.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“When I heard the door open without the courtesy of a knock, I
didn’t know what to expect,” she said pointedly. “I assumed it was a criminal
of some sort.”

“And you figured the best place to greet him was in the tub?” He
lifted one booted foot and set it on the edge of the tub for emphasis.

“I thought it best to remain quiet and hope the ruffian would go
away,” Lila said stiffly.

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“Obviously not.”

Using the side of one thumb, Bishop tipped his hat back on his
head and let his eyes roam over as much of her as was visible, which was not
nearly as much as he would have liked. The tub was not long enough to allow her
to stretch out, and her updrawn knees concealed most of her upper body from
him. Only her shoulders and the creamy upper slopes of her breasts were
visible. Still, it was enough to set a man to thinking.

“Didn’t it strike you as odd that this ‘ruffian’ had a key?” It
was an effort to drag his gaze back to her face. She was glaring at him.

“Certainly. But it didn’t seem likely that a gentleman would enter
a lady’s room without so much as a knock.”

“I think I told you once before that I never claimed to be a
gentleman. And, in case you’ve forgotten, we
are
married. I’d guess that
gives me the right to open a door without knocking now and again. You
do
remember that we’re married, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Lila had to swallow to get the words out. There was
something about the way he was looking at her that made it difficult to speak.
She was suddenly, vividly aware of the vulnerability of her position. “If you
don’t mind, I’d like to get up now.”