The Gunfighter and the Heiress (5 page)

philanderer was too self-absorbed to be considerate of a woman. It was a tremendous relief that she didn't have to marry that bastard.

Natalie poured water from the pitcher into the basin, then splashed the refreshing liquid on her face. It helped somewhat. When she had dressed, she returned to her own room to change her clothes and brush the tangles from her hair that had escaped the pins.

As if she couldn't guess how
that
had happened.

The thought provoked a blush, but she strengthened her resolve. The deed was done. Crow said he would marry her…or did he? Last night was a complete blur, she was sorry to say.

Natalie retrieved several bank notes that she had stitched into the hem of three of her gowns, then double-checked
to make certain her family's heirloom jewelry was still stashed in the secret compartment in the ratty-looking carpetbag she'd brought with her. Then she headed to the hotel restaurant to purchase breakfast.

Bart Collier lounged against the café doorway and he appraised her carefully as she descended the steps. “Van asked me to inform you that he will return shortly. In the meantime, I'm to escort you to breakfast. We can have a cup of coffee while we're waiting.”

“I'd love coffee.” She rubbed her throbbing temples. “Did you lace that whiskey with a sedative?”

“No, ma'am, that tarantula juice they serve at Road To Ruin Saloon is dangerous all by itself.”

It had certainly been the road to
her
ruin, she mused. But she wasn't complaining. Better bedded by Donovan Crow than Thurston Kimball III, the philandering bastard she despised.

When they were seated, Bart handed her the morning newspaper and pointed out the front-page article announcing tomorrow's upcoming wedding and town-wide reception she'd promised. Natalie inwardly winced. She might have gone a bit too far with that public declaration. But as in all things, what was done was done. She would arrange for the ceremony and refreshments as she had promised.

She discarded the mental list of upcoming errands and focused her concentration on the studious-looking man who handled Crow's business affairs. She sipped her coffee and wondered if she was supposed to negotiate the fee with Bart.

Later, she decided. Right now, she was curious about the connection between two men who seemed as different as night and day.

“Just how did you and Crow enter into this partnership?”

Bart smiled faintly, then called her attention to his broken nose. “Eight years ago, three drunken saddle tramps roughed me up for sport one night while I was locking up my recently opened law office. They called me ‘Sissy Breeches' because I'm from Boston. Then their derogatory comments went downhill rapidly from there.”

Natalie waited curiously while Bart took a sip of coffee.

“The drunken goons broke my nose and planned to break the rest of me, but Van arrived to hammer them over the back of their heads with the butt of his pistol. Then he landed a few punishing blows with his fists…. He's very good at what he does, you know.”

“So the circulating legends claim,” she remarked and silently said grace over the strong black coffee she ingested. She almost felt human again. Except for the headache pounding against her sensitive skull like a sledgehammer.

“I offered to pay Van for saving my life, but he asked me to repay him by passing along my knowledge of books and white man's social practices. He wanted to function effectively in his father's world. In return, he taught me valuable self-defense techniques that he'd learned from the Comanche and Kiowa tribes while he trained to become a warrior.”

She smiled wryly. “Essentially you became his project and he became yours. You taught Crow to fit into white society and he taught you to deal effectively with thugs who have no use for educated men.”

“Yes, in addition, I had the distinct pleasure of pressing charges and testifying in court against the thugs who served time in the penitentiary for assault and cattle rustling. They were released a few months ago. I hope they learned their lesson and I'm the last person they assault.”

“Ah, if only men learned from their mistakes,” she murmured under her breath.

“Nowadays I collect the telegrams and correspondences and manage Van's financial affairs while he's away. I also arrange quarterly deliveries of food and supplies to the Kiowa and Comanche reservation in Indian Territory.”

She frowned pensively. “I've heard disturbing stories of soldiers and civilians intercepting the goods and selling them for profit instead of doling them out to the Indians.”

Bart stared at her pointedly. “If
you
knew the goods came directly from Donovan Crow and you answered for them personally, would you steal from him when you knew he made unannounced visits to the reservation?”

“I suppose not, but the world is full of arrogant fools, Bart. I'm surprised someone hasn't tried to swindle him.”

“They've tried. Two in fact.”

“What happened to them?”

“One's in jail. The other is in hell where he belongs.”

Crow's voice rumbled from so close behind her that Natalie spilled her hot coffee. She shook the sting from her hand as she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes widened in surprise while she, and the other patrons, stared at Crow in astonishment.

Clean-shaven, he was even more ruggedly handsome. He'd clipped his raven hair and he was wearing a stylish three-piece black suit. He looked amazing, and not the slightest bit hung over after ingesting the same rotgut she'd consumed last night.

“Please excuse me, Miss Jones,” Bart said politely, then climbed to his feet. “I have business to conduct. You two can hammer out the details of your…er…arrangement without me.”

It occurred to her that Crow purposely sat down with his back to the wall at their corner table. No doubt, it was his custom to keep watch, in case trouble came calling.
She would have to remember that when she embarked on her journey through the wilderness…

She snapped to attention when she recalled her conversation with Bart. Of course! Survival training! It's what she needed before she set off to find excitement and adventure on the frontier. It had worked for Bart and it could serve her well, too.

Aware that all eyes were upon them in the café, Natalie smiled at Crow in greeting. Then she reached over to place her hand on his. That should convince the onlookers that she had deep feelings for Crow and this was more than a business arrangement. To add reinforcement to the presumption, she leaned sideways to place a playful peck on his bronzed cheek.

“You look exceptionally handsome,” she murmured. “Wish I looked that nice. But this headache from hell won't let up.”

He reached into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve a small leather pouch. He sprinkled part of the contents in her coffee cup. When she arched a dubious brow, he said, “Old Comanche and Kiowa remedy.”

She swallowed three quick gulps of coffee, expecting an offensive taste. Surprisingly, she detected only a pleasant hint of mint.

“I won't order for you since you intend to become an independent woman of the world,” he remarked. “But I recommend the house special. Also, it will help settle your stomach.”

She liked that Crow acknowledged her desire to make her own decisions and take command of her life. Unlike Avery Marsh and Thurston Kimball III, who insisted on speaking for her and telling her what to do because they were men and she was merely a witless female.

By the time the steaming food arrived, her hellish
headache had fizzled down to a dull throb. Five minutes later, she began to feel like her old self again. Natalie dived into the meal with all the enthusiasm of a starving field hand.

“Now, about your fee,” she said between bites of fried potatoes.

“Two thousand.”

She nearly choked on her food. “Two?” she tweeted.

“That's my standard fee for a wedding.”

She eyed him warily. “You've been married before?”

He munched on his slice of ham, swallowed and kept her in suspense, the ornery rascal. “No, but if I'm ever asked again, it will be two thousand. Take it or leave it, sunshine.”

She glanced speculatively around the café. “I wonder if I could get any takers for one thousand.”

“A dozen, who lack skills and experience, I expect,” he said with a nonchalant shrug of his impossibly broad shoulders. “As you pointed out with great relish last night, I can be bought.” He slanted her a meaningful glance but she noticed his silver-blue eyes twinkled with playful devilry. “But I don't come cheap.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “But I see that you engage in highway robbery.” She blew out her breath. “Maybe I will take my offer to Bartholomew Collier since he confided that you taught him to handle himself against brutish adversaries.”

His expression turned cool and distant. “Your choice, sunshine. This is, after all, part of your convoluted plan to avoid marriage to the fiancé you left behind.”

“I think Bart is a fine man,” she insisted.

“I never said he wasn't.”

She drummed her fingers on the table while she stared Crow down. He was a magnificent-looking man and he
was followed by the kind of reputation that gave other men pause. Bart was not. There was one clear choice. Plus, she had told herself from the onset that Crow could name his price and she would pay it. Still, it was the principle of the matter.

Natalie huffed out her breath. “Fine. I'm sticking with our original arrangement…except I insist upon receiving the self-defense lessons you gave Bart. That, of course, will be included in the two thousand dollars you demand.”

He smirked. “That will cost you another thousand, but I don't have time for extensive lessons. Bart is gathering information about other job offers as we speak. If I train you, you'd have to learn fast.”

“I will be your devoted pupil,” she pledged solemnly. “I do not intend to set off on my great adventure and get killed immediately. I can use all the pointers I can get.”

“More coffee, ma'am? Mr. Crow?” the waiter asked politely as he hovered beside the table.

Van nodded, then waited for the man to walk off. “Bart can teach you what I won't have time to do. He learned well. In fact, he delights in having someone pick a fight with him these days so he can sharpen his skills in hand-to-hand combat and with a variety of weapons. He might work cheaper.”

She braced her forearms on the table, leaned toward him and said, “I want to be competent in the wilds because I won't have a personal bodyguard watching my back. I want
you
to teach me. After last night, I don't think that is asking so much in return.”

He stared straight at her, watching her face go up in flames. “You mean because I partially undressed you so you could sleep comfortably without wrinkling your dress?”

He didn't think her face could turn a deeper shade of red. He was wrong.

“No. Not that. The other thing,” she said, then cleared her throat and fidgeted in her chair.

“What other thing?”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Do not make this more difficult than it already is. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don't.”

“Was it so uneventful that you have forgotten?” she huffed in offended dignity.

He leaned toward her and said quietly, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

She blushed ten shades of red. “Consummating the marriage,” she hissed between gritted teeth.

Van barked a laugh that called too much attention to their corner table and earned him another of Natalie's annoyed glares. “You've misjudged me, sunshine. I find no pleasure in dallying with unresponsive women. There's no give-and-take involved in that.” He stared straight at her. “You don't remember much about what we said and did last night, do you?”

She shook her head. “No, I don't. But if nothing happened, then what did the yellow rose signify?”

Van shifted awkwardly in his chair. “I don't know. You just looked so…so…beautiful lying in my bed.” Damn, he felt self-conscious. He'd never had a conversation like this one before. “I just…hell, I don't know.”

She settled back in her chair and flashed such a breathtaking smile that it would have knocked his knees out from under him if he'd been standing.

“That is the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me.”

“Doubt it.” He dived back into his meal and prayed for blessed silence. He should have known better with her.

“After lunch I'll make the arrangements for refresh
ments and look up the justice of the peace to preside over the ceremony in the park.”

“Fine, but I already spoke to the marshal about cordoning off the park. I contacted local bartenders about delivering drinks. You can speak to all the café owners about food so we don't leave anyone out…” He glanced at her guiltily. “I didn't mean to take over for you. But if you're determined to get hitched tomorrow, arrangements needed to be made immediately.”

“No offense taken. I'll have plenty of decisions to make myself when I'm in the wilderness.”

He tried to picture her venturing off into the frontier without a clue of what to expect from two-legged and four-legged predators. The woman was insane to think she could survive alone. Van had years of practical experience under his belt. He still ended up in precarious scrapes occasionally. Maybe he did need to spare the time to instruct her. Otherwise, he'd feel guilty if this lovely tenderfoot met with trouble—and she would. It was inevitable in this part of the country.

“Listen, sunshine, I've decided to offer survival lessons. For five hundred. Just the basics.”

“You are too generous, Mr. Crow,” she said caustically.

He watched her gird herself to negotiate with him. She delighted in haggling over prices, he could tell.