Deborah Camp (19 page)

“Well, boy,” she said, extending one hand to him, “if you like the smell of me, then you can stay. Just don’t mess with my chickens or I’ll pump some buckshot into your hind end.”

He sniffed the back of her hand and then pressed his cold nose into her palm. It was clear he liked her.

Cassie squatted beside him and stroked his bony head. “I reckon I’ll call you Slim, seeing as how you’re on the skinny side.” She laid her cheek against Slim’s neck and from that moment on he was hers.

Floating on his back in the chilly creek, Rook gazed at the sheer rock walls that formed the basin called Hog Scald Hollow. It was a pretty place, despite its name, which it
had gotten during the Civil War when Confederate soldiers, starving and on the run, heated huge rocks and tossed them into the basin until the water was scalding hot. Into the steaming water they had tossed two hogs they’d stolen from a neighboring farmer. It had been a feast that sustained them during the coming weeks of bitter surrender.

Rook loved the Hollow, now a place of peace and serenity. Here he could loll in the setting sunlight and let the water massage his aching muscles. Working the mine had made him painfully aware of his own physical inadequacies. He’d discovered muscles he hadn’t used since his boyhood, and he found that he enjoyed the physical labor. Not enough to pursue it as a means of making a living, mind you, but he
did
appreciate a certain amount of physical exertion. It made him feel tough, manly, and more able to face life in the hostile West.

Living on the land had made him a different person. He’d been completely cerebral before—a thinker, not a doer—but out in the wide-open spaces he’d become more attuned to his body and its capabilities. After a day in the garden and mine he could begin to appreciate his physical prowess. Being tired had taken on new meaning. He liked being tired. It felt good these days. Maybe because it had been earned honestly through hard work and the sweat of his brow.

There was something to be said about living off the land, he thought as he kicked to propel himself to the center of the basin. Cities were charming, but the country had a charm all its own. In the country a man was only as good as the house he built, the seeds he sowed, and the crop he harvested.

Rook chuckled, thinking he sounded like a born-and-bred hayseed. His appreciation of the rural life stemmed mostly from his admiration of Cassie’s fortitude. Up with the chickens, she slaved over the stove and prepared a hearty breakfast, then went to work in the garden. She chopped wood, fed the chickens, repaired the dilapidated outhouse. She laundered on a scrub board and wrung out each piece with deceptive hands, for although they looked fragile they possessed a world of strength. She worked in
the mine, holding her own right beside him. He’d never known a woman to work so hard. Before the sun set she mended clothes or resoled shoes and boots. Sometimes before daybreak she was already out in the woods with Slim, and the two would return shortly after dawn with squirrels, rabbits, quail, and, once, a wild pig.

Since the night of the storm, she’d kept her distance from him by being extremely busy. Too busy to let her mind wander. Too busy to meet his gaze. Too busy to exchange more than a word in passing. It riled him, but he was helpless against her frantic pace. He could only struggle to keep up with her and wait for her to run out of energy and face him again—person to person, woman to man.

Of late he’d been debating whether to tell her that he wasn’t married and had no children. Letting her think he was a married man with responsibilities was a shield he could hold between his lust and her vulnerability. She was so young and naive and so much trouble surrounded him that he felt he had to keep the shield in place and keep her safe. He couldn’t bear the thought of Cassie being hurt because of him. As long as danger threatened his life, he didn’t want Cassie dragged into it.

By the next day he’d have been in Cassie’s world a month, he thought as he rolled onto his stomach in the cold water of the creek and stretched into a stroke that worked the muscles around his healing wound. A month of observing a young woman he had come to respect and pity, trust and desire. She was for him a never-ending source of conflict and contradiction.

He touched bottom and stood up in the water. A ray of sun fell upon his shoulder where Blackie’s bullet had torn a path. The skin was puckered but no longer a sickly color.

I’m healing, he thought. Soon I’ll be well enough to travel. Well enough to go home and resume my life.

A peculiar sense of desperation twisted through him and he struck out, arms flailing and legs kicking the water into a foam. His body knifed through the sparkling ripples until his muscles quivered and he was too tired to think of Cassie or of what would become of her when she didn’t have him to needle.

* * *

Cassie unpinned one of Rook’s freshly laundered shirts from the wash line and pressed it to her nose. There was nothing like the smell of sun-dried clothes, she thought, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She let the shirt fall into the basket at her feet and reached for the next still pinned to the line when Slim bawled a warning.

“What? Who?” Cassie asked, whirling around and shadowing her eyes with one hand. She listened, holding her breath, and heard the approaching thunder of a rider. “Good boy,” she whispered to Slim as she hurried into the cabin for her shotgun. How had she managed without that hound? she wondered. Having Slim around had given her new confidence in her ability to stay alone on the land. Slim guarded her with his life. He guarded her chickens too, keeping the coyotes away.

Some day Rook would leave, Cassie had told herself over and over lately, but Slim would stay. She’d still have one of her sentries. Slim was better than nothing.

Cassie stepped onto the porch and lifted the shotgun to her shoulder. She took a bead on the rider and curled her finger around the trigger.

“Easy, pal,” she murmured to Slim, whose hair bristled all the way down his spine. “Might be a friend instead of a foe, but I doubt it.”

The horse and rider slowed as they neared the cabin, but the sun was setting behind them and all Cassie could make out was a silhouette. A roan horse. A wide-shouldered man wearing a long coat and a flat-topped, narrow-brimmed hat.

“That’s far enough, unless you want a hole shot through that fancy hat of yours,” she called out, and Slim growled at her side.

The rider reined in the horse, making it prance prettily in place.

“Why, Miss Cassie! It’s me. Boone Rutledge.” He swept the hat from his head and the sun glinted off his auburn hair.

Cassie uncurled her trigger finger and lowered the shotgun. “Oh. Sorry. I couldn’t see your face ’cause of the sun. What brings you out here?”

“You said I could call again.” He swung down from the roan and hung his hat on the saddle horn. “Remember?”

“Oh, right.” She nodded and stood the shotgun just inside the door. What in tarnation did he want? she wondered, confused by his show of interest. “Well …” She looked around for something that would enlighten her.

“Could I trouble you for something to drink?” he asked, placing one polished boot on the bottom step and looking up at her with friendly green eyes. “It’s quite a ride from town, you know.”

“Yes.” She ducked inside to fetch him some cool water. When she came back out with it, Boone and Slim were giving each other the evil eye.

“I see you’ve got a guard dog,” Boone said, taking the dipper of water from her. “Much obliged.”

“You’re welcome.” Cassie went back inside and started dragging two kitchen chairs out to the porch, since it looked as though Boone meant to stay awhile. “That there’s Slim. He showed up one day and I figured I could use the company.”

“Here, let me help you with those.” Boone almost broke his neck to leap onto the porch and wrestle the chairs from her. “Have you been lonely out here?” he asked. He extended a hand to one of the chairs and added, “After you, Miss Cassie.”

Cassie sat down primly and smoothed her hands down the flower-printed skirt that Jewel had given her. “Lonely? No, not really. I’m too busy to pine for company.”

He was silent a moment and alert. “Is that chickens I hear?”

“Sure is.” Cassie smiled and stared at her clasped hands resting in her lap. “Jewel brought me some chicks. Pretty soon I’ll have me some eggs. I was thinking that I might get more chickens and sell eggs in town.”

“You’d have to sell a lot of eggs to make a living at it, Miss Cassie.” Boone, sitting beside her on the other chair, placed his hands on his knees and stiffened his elbows. A thoughtful scowl crossed his face, and he seemed to be
thinking hard on something. “When winter comes what will you do? How will you live?”

“I’ll put up food from my garden. I’ve got enough wood for winter. I’ll make out fine.” Cassie gave a decisive nod, having gone over this many times in her mind and convinced herself of it. “There’s no law that says a woman can’t make out fine by herself.”

“No, but there’s no law that can rightly protect you from wrongdoers way out here,” Boone pointed out, stirring up her most dreaded fear. He extracted his watch, glanced at it, then slipped it back into his vest pocket. “Times are dangerous, Miss Cassie. We’ve got more ‘Wanted’ posters at the bank than we’ve ever had before. They fill almost half a wall! Desperadoes are roaming these hills. It’s a lawless time. No time for a woman to live alone, unless it’s in the city.”

Slim sat next to Cassie’s chair and she stroked his head for reassurance.

“I don’t like town. What would I do in town anyways?”

“You could be a shop girl,” Boone suggested.

Cassie wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“You could work in the bank.”

“Doing what?”

“I’d find something for you, Miss Cassie,” Boone said, turning sideways toward her. “You’re a bright young woman. We’d be honored to have you—”

“No offense,” Cassie cut in, “but a bank isn’t the place for me. I’d be as useless as a hog with a sidesaddle.”

“I could teach you—”

Cassie stood up and presented her back to Boone. “Teach me, teach me. That’s all everybody wants to do is teach me. I’m not all that ignorant, you know. I got some brains.”

“Of course you do!” Boone leaned forward, straining for a look at her frowning profile. “I never meant to insult you. I know you’re a smart young woman. I find you fascinating … exciting … mesmer—” He clamped his lips together and blushed hotly when she turned and regarded him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

“You think I’m all those things?” she asked, her voice
light and teasing. Hearing his gush of compliments had unleashed something bold within her. She felt the scales tip in her favor, and she knew she had another faithful follower. Facing him, she witnessed his embarrassment and found it endearing.

“Why, Boone Rutledge,” she purred, then wondered where she’d learned to
purr
. “I think you like me.” She crossed her arms at her waist, her hands cupping her elbows. A demure smile spread over her lips and put a sparkle in her eyes.

It was his turn to stare at his hands. “I do, Miss Cassie. That’s why I rode out to visit. I wanted to make sure you were doing all right out here. You’ve been on my mind. I’ve been worried about you.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m fine.” Cassie swept her skirt to one side and sat down beside him again. “Like I said, I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to worry or be lonely or scared.”

“You said that everyone was trying to teach you things. Who else have you been talking to?”

“Uh …” The scales tipped back toward him. “Jewel,” she said, then remembered someone else she could mention. “Jewel and Sheriff Barnes. They both said I couldn’t make it alone out here and they thought I should learn other things besides mining and gardening and raising chicks.”

“Has Sheriff Barnes been out here again?”

“No, only once.”

“But Jewel visits.”

“When she can, which isn’t often.” She relaxed, feeling less uneasy now that she was back to the truth.

“Have you been working in the mine?”

“The mine?” she echoed, glancing sharply at him and losing her newfound coquettishness. “Why would I work the mine?”

Boone shrugged. “I just thought you might. Shorty worked in it every day, didn’t he?”

She sat straighter, drawing her back away from the chair. “Yes;” She glanced sideways at him. “That was where
Pa was shot, and …” She let her voice trail off and hoped he would let it go.

“Oh, of course. How thoughtless of me!” Boone reached for her hand and held it lightly between his. “Forgive me, Miss Cassie. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He glanced at Shorty’s grave and back again. “Who carved that cross?”

“Th-the cross?” She snatched her hand away and stared at the beautifully etched marker Rook had planted on Shorty’s grave the morning after the storm. “Uh … I did!” She smiled winningly at him. “Do you like it?”

“Yes. I didn’t know you could do that sort of thing.”

“I can do lots of things,” she told him, thinking that at least
that
was true, although whittling wasn’t one of them. “I thought Pa deserved something better than those two twigs I tied together.”

“Yes, that’s very good of you.” He smiled tenderly and reached for her hand again. “I’d like to stay longer, but the sun will set in a few minutes and I’ve got a hard ride in the dark back to Eureka Springs.”

“It was kind of you to ride out here …” She looked at him through her lashes as awkwardness stayed her tongue.

“Boone,” he insisted. “I’d be most pleased if you’d call me by my Christian name.”

Cassie swallowed her nervousness, wishing for her earlier streak of boldness. “Boone,” she whispered, then blushed furiously as if she’d called him sweetheart.

“Miss Cassie, I rode out here to ask something of you.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

“I was wondering if you’d do me the honor some day soon of going into Eureka Springs with me for an outing. Dinner, perhaps? Dinner at the Crescent Hotel?”

“The Crescent?” she repeated, her eyes widening at his offer to take her to such an elegant place. She’d seen the hotel, perched high on a hill overlooking the town, but she’d never been inside it. She was certain it was breath-takingly beautiful. To dine in such a place! Why, the mere thought made her head spin!