Caden's Vow (16 page)

With a shake of her head, she took another step back.

“You should never have kissed me.”

* * *

T
HE
RIDE
TO
Simple was accomplished
in silence, during which Caden shot her assessing looks and Ace concerned ones,
but neither man spoke, not that she wanted them to. Her hold on her composure
was so delicate she felt as if she was broken into a million pieces inside, her
heart lost somewhere among the fragments. There was a reason whores didn’t kiss.
She thought that rule didn’t apply to her because she had a husband, but it
wasn’t the truth. Husbands were the most dangerous of all.

She let him lead her through town. She let him bring her to the
hotel. She listened as he told the hotelier that he wanted a room for a month.
She watched the money change hands, took the receipt when Caden gave it to
her.

“You might need that.”

She nodded. A woman alone was vulnerable to a lot of things,
including the dishonesty of a hotel clerk who might want to pocket the
difference and kick her out. She let Caden lead her up to her room. It was clean
and functional. A vase of flowers on the bed stand added a touch of color. They
didn’t cheer her up.

Caden sighed. “Maddie, look at me.”

Instead of looking at him, she walked past him, opened the door
and stood by it. If he wanted to leave, then he needed to be about it.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“I’m not abandoning you.”

He’d paid for a month in advance, and he was leaving. She knew
how this worked. At the end of that month, he wouldn’t be back. At the end of
that month, she’d either have a new protector or she’d be on the street. This
was the way men said goodbye when they wanted to pretend they didn’t have
anything to be guilty for. Temporary safety followed by nothing. How could she
have been so wrong about him?

“Do you like the room?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll be back for you, Maddie. I need to get that claim tied
up, but I’ll be back.”

She shook her head, giving him the acceptance that he seemed to
want, knowing in her heart he wouldn’t. They never came back.

“Goddamn it.” He crossed the room, his boots making hollow
thumps with every step. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pulled her up into his
embrace. His mouth slammed down on hers with a passion that had so excited her
last night but right now just left her cold. Fake. It was all fake. Love on her
side, convenience on his.

He stepped back, giving her a shake. “I’m goddamn well coming
back for you, Maddie, and your ass had better be here.”

She just stared at him and nodded, giving him again what he
wanted to hear, knowing the truth behind his statements.

“I’ll be here.” Where else would she go? She didn’t have money
or family. Simple was as good a place as any to start over. Right now it was the
only place she had.

“Good. You’ve got the receipt. The clerk gives you any guff,
you show it to the sheriff, but don’t you give it over. You hold on to it. It’s
your proof.”

She nodded. He wouldn’t be so worried about that if he really
planned on coming back. Caden took some more coin out of his bag and put it in
her hand.

“That should give you plenty to eat. Just don’t let anybody
scam you. A meal should be no more than two bits. And try to stay in the room as
much as possible. I don’t want anyone to know you’re here.”

She nodded again. “Thank you.”

The money burned her palm. Payoff for a guilty conscience. She
wanted to throw it in his face.

“I gotta go, Maddie. I gotta get back to the claim. Can’t leave
it for too long in case jumpers find it.”

“Or the Comanche.”

His response was a bit too slow, but he nodded, “Yeah, or the
Comanche.”

“If it’s that dangerous where you’re going, how will I know
whether you’ve survived?”

“If I don’t come back in six weeks, notify Hell’s Eight.”

“And tell them what?”

“That I didn’t keep my promise.”

“You never keep your promises to me.”

“Like hell!”

“You told me you wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Okay, once. One time, Maddie. It didn’t seem that
important.”

No, probably it didn’t to him. To her it had been a promise
that mattered.

“But that’s the only time.”

She shook her head. No. There were more. He’d promised not to
hurt her, and right now she felt as if she was dying inside.

“Maddie.”

“What?”

“Honey.” His fingers stroked from her temple to her cheek down
to her chin. “I’m coming back. I promise.”

“All right.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts; she folded her arms over them.
If he wanted anything sexual from her again, he was going to have to take it.
He’d raped her heart—what did it matter if he raped her body?

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You didn’t want me to whine at you. You didn’t want my
distress to get in the way of your fun. You got what you wanted. Now just leave
me alone.”

“I can see there’s no talking to you right now.”

“No.” No amount of talk would change reality.

He pointed his finger at her. “You be here when I get
back.”

She resisted the urge to bite it. “I already said I would
be.”

She was done running. If this was where she had to make her
stand, this was where she was making it.

“Do you need anything else?”

A man I can believe in.
It hurt her
to look at him, to see what could have been, what she thought was, but what hurt
worse was knowing that if she were a respectable woman this never would have
happened. But she was a whore. They didn’t command the same kind of decency. It
was okay to trick a whore. It was okay to lie to a whore. Many men even
considered it sport. But play those games with a decent woman? A man could
expect her kin would come calling. Men didn’t play those games with a
respectable woman for the simple reason the price was too high.

A knock interrupted them. Ace stood in the open doorway.

“We’re all set.” Ace smiled at Maddie. “We gave you an account
at the mercantile, paid them in advance.” He handed her a receipt. She looked at
the amount. It’d be enough for a few nice dresses. More guilt money.

“We’ll be back in about a month,” Ace said.

What did she expect? That he wouldn’t back Caden’s lie? Or
maybe he actually believed it. It was hard to tell. More than once a friend had
fooled a friend, but she knew even if he did, in the end it wouldn’t matter. Ace
would always be Caden’s friend, and she would always be the whore that turned up
at Hell’s Eight and tried to make something out of nothing.

She looked out the window. The afternoon was passing. “Don’t
you need to go?”

Ace looked at Caden and frowned. She looked at both of them and
felt nothing. She was so numb inside, so blessedly numb, and she hadn’t even had
to escape to her pretend world to achieve it.

“Yeah. We do.” Still, Caden lingered. Finally, he put his hat
on his head in that way that said he’d reached his limit. “Remember, Maddie, if
you need help, send a telegram to Caine Allen care of Padre Bernard in San
Antonio.”

She nodded.

“Write that down.”

She didn’t bother. She was never going to send a telegram to
the padre.

He ended up writing it down for her. There wasn’t anything else
to say, and after a long, awkward pause, Ace left. Caden paused a little bit
longer, then with the brush of his fingers over her cheek he said, “You take
care of yourself, and remember, I
am
coming
back.”

She nodded, closed the door behind him. A turn of the key and
the door locked, the soft click signaling the end. After all the work of the
past year, she was right back where she’d started. Alone.

* * *

F
OR
THREE
DAYS
,
Maddie didn’t come out of that room. For three days she drank the tea the
owner’s wife sent up and nibbled on some jerky from the saddlebags. She wasn’t
hungry. She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t anything. She was alone in a
strange town the way whores always ended up.

On the fourth day, she started to get mad. It began with a
dream, the one she’d often had as a child in which her mother wasn’t her mother
but someone else, someone soft and caring, someone who protected her from the
world, who cooked her meals, who smiled at her achievements. That dream always
angered her because when she opened her eyes, the contrast between what she
wanted and what she had was so vivid it was like a smack in the face.

She sat by the window that day, watching everybody outside
going about their lives, women and men moving from building to building with
purpose, children gathering in the street to play hoop and stick, tag or
hide-and-seek. Everybody, it seemed—except her—had a purpose. If she listened to
Caden, her purpose was to sit and wait. But she knew what that would get her. If
she listened to her mother, her purpose was to serve men. She knew what that
wouldn’t get her. If she listened to Tia, it was to be a good wife. If she
listened to Desi and Bella, it was to be whoever she wanted to be. She continued
to stare out the window and watch people with lives go about living them.

That day she ordered up dinner, eating alone in her room,
chewing food that had no taste, wishing for bread that wasn’t there, her mind
going around and around.

On the fifth day, when she woke up she took her seat by the
window and studied the scene again. Carriages bustled up and down the streets,
families gathered at the restaurant.

The next day she did the same. Doing nothing but watch as the
hours ground by.

By the seventh day, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to
leave her room, and the excuse sat on the table. They hadn’t sent bread again
with her lunch.

Taking her remaining coins and putting them into the pocket on
the inside of her skirt, she marched down the stairs, stopping at the front desk
to ask where the restaurant was. The clerk pointed two doors down on the right.
She thanked him and headed that way.

When she entered, it was obvious the proprietors were gearing
up for lunch. She could hear the sounds of chopping, and the smell of oil
heating and onions cooking filled the restaurant. She went to the back. A
harried woman in her forties looked up.

“I’m sorry. If you’re looking for work, I don’t have
anything.”

“I’m not looking for work, I’m staying at the hotel. I’m Maddie
Miller.” It felt strange to introduce herself as that.

“I’m Lucia Salinger, and the man at the stove is my husband,
Antonio.” She was attractive in a homey sort of way. She made Maddie think of
hugs and kisses and the comforts of home. She had big brown eyes, an olive
complexion to her skin, a red mouth and dark hair that was just showing streaks
of gray. “What can I do for you? Lunch service isn’t for another hour.”

Maddie shook her head. “I don’t want lunch. I want bread.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve ordered meals from here for three days, and every single
time you’ve forgotten to send the bread.”

Lucia straightened and slid her hands down her stained
apron.

“I’m sorry the meal wasn’t to your liking.”

Maddie shook her head again. “The meal was fine, but my bread
was missing.”

“I haven’t had time to bake it, and there’s no bakery in town,
so it’s not that we’ve forgotten. There just hasn’t been any. We gave you an
extra helping to make up the difference.”

“Don’t usually serve bread?”

“Heck,” Antonio said. “We’ve been so busy, what with a new crop
of miners coming through every day, just putting food on the table has been a
challenge.”

She hadn’t considered that, but as she did, a possibility
occurred. “Would you sell it if you could?”

“Hell, yeah. Nothing a man likes better than fresh baked bread.
Could probably sell all we had and make a fortune off it, too. Nothing like
baked goods to make a man start thinking of home.” He turned the meat he was
cooking. “Problem is, we don’t have a baker.”

She nodded and looked around, a wild idea taking hold. “I can
bake.”

The claim came out so faintly she wasn’t surprised when Antonio
said, “Excuse me?”

She swallowed and tried again. She’d never shot for a
respectable job, never been among respectable people, but in a month her money
ran out and so would her options. If there was ever a time for bold moves, this
was it. “I can bake.”

“Why would you want to be baking? You’re staying at the
hotel.”

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “That situation is
temporary.”

Lucia’s eyebrows went up; Antonio took the skillet off the fire
and put it to the side. He was a heavyset man with fleshy features, but he had
kind eyes.

“Did you lose your husband?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d never really had him and now he
was gone. “And I’ve only got enough money to last until the end of the
month.”

Lucia set her hands on her hips. With doubt clearly in her
voice, she said, “But you can bake.”

If the subject had been anything other than her baking
abilities, Maddie would have been cowed, but this she knew. “Yes, I can
bake.”

The woman frowned and said something to her husband in a
language Maddie didn’t understand. Antonio answered her in the same language.
Lucia turned back to her. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

Maddie walked over to the wall where the supplies were stacked
behind a well-used wooden table. The supplies in the kitchen were stored the
same way they were at Tia’s. It wasn’t hard to find the flour.

“Do you have starter?”

A little of the tension left Lucia’s stance. Pulling a crock
from the side, she slid it across the wooden table. “Yes, I kept that alive at
least.”