Emma's Blaze (Fires of Cricket Bend Book 2) (18 page)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

Emma

Leaving Cricket Bend proved sadder than Emma had expected. Despite her initial impression that the town was dusty and dull, things had been eventful. She’d met so many people, and she understood how Callie could have cast off her wild life in a bigger city for a new life in a place like Cricket Bend.

After being cleared by the Sheriff and a quick trip to the town clinic for Doc Gray to give one more check of her neck and bruises, she came back to the street and found one more surprise awaiting her.

Maggie wore a brown saddle. Big saddlebags hung over her haunches.

“You’ve ridden long enough on that blanket creation Saul concocted.” Bill smiled. “Two weeks of using that all day, and you won’t be able to walk by the time we reach New Orleans.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Emma said, running her fingers over the smooth leather of the saddle. A few months earlier, she would have turned up her nose at the idea of such a gift, but now it seemed prettier than any lace or gem she’d ever seen.

He showed her how to adjust the tightness of the cinch, and how to loosen the bags as needed. When he stepped away to bid a final farewell to Deputy Frank, Haven left her husband’s side and came toward Emma. She wore an apron over her work dress, and her hair was tied back, away from her face. She held a wrapped package.

“Your father is a miracle,” Emma said. “I thought for sure he was going to throw me in the jail right next to Andrew.”

“Callie would have given him hell,” Haven said. “I would have too.”

“And your husband isn’t too bad either,” Emma said, teasing Haven slightly. That she was talking friendly with a woman Hank had been involved with didn’t even seem strange. Haven was Haven, and Emma liked her.

“I know,” Haven said. “I like him. Even when he makes me crazy.”

“Or perhaps especially then?”

Haven laughed, and held out the bundle.

“What is this?” Emma asked.

“Something I’m guessing was yours.” There was a pink tint to Haven’s cheeks.

Emma opened one part of the cloth wrapper. Red satin glinted in the daylight. “My dress?” In her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined she’d hold the garment in her hands again.

Her reaction seemed to confirm Haven’s thoughts. “I wore it once. I thought it was the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. I still do.” Emma realized why Hank had been crazy about Haven, and how he’d been able to sway her away from reason. “I’ve had it ever since, hidden away in my trunk. Now that I know it’s yours, I can’t keep it another minute. I don’t want to keep it another minute. Take it, and wear it, or burn it, or whatever you choose. Be well, Emma. Write us if you have a moment, and let us know how you are.”

“I’ll do that. Do you want me to tell him anything when I find him?”

Haven shook her head. “No. I have nothing to say to him. But I hope you get what you’re after. The letters are inside the dress. He mentions a place called The Magnolia Crow.”

The two women stood awkwardly before Emma extended her hand. Haven took hold of it. “You have friends here,” Haven said. “Remember that.”

“I will.” Emma leaned in a bit. “Is there something between Callie and Jasper?”

Haven rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started. He’s head over heels for her.”

Emma grinned. “I knew it. Tell her I approve.”

“You ready?” Bill called to her. He was already seated on Orion, looking eager to depart.

Emma went to Maggie, and lifted herself onto her new saddle. Before she turned away, she saw Callie standing and watching her. Haven stepped next to Callie. The three of them exchanged a long look—an acknowledgment that, despite their differences, the three of them shared something deeper and stranger than could ever be explained. They’d all, in their way, loved and been loved by Hank Porter, and were all a little bit worse off for it. If Emma could conclude her own trouble with the man, maybe she could give all their stories a happy ending, when it came to Hank Porter.

Emma gave Bill a pointed look. “Let’s go to New Orleans. It might be a huge mistake…”

Bill grinned. “Never stopped us before.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

New Orleans, Louisiana ~ May, 1887

Since Emma was familiar with big cities, she enjoyed seeing New Orleans through Bill’s eyes. Obviously, he’d never seen anything like it before. In truth, neither had Emma. New Orleans was different than any other place she had ever been. By his side, Emma took in the wonder of the opulent city, which brimmed with grandeur and free-for-all revelry. After sixteen days of riding together—fifteen planned, and one extra day on account of a bad storm that had stopped them dead in their tracks—being in civilization was a startling contrast.

They traveled into the city. The buildings grew taller around them.

“Feels like going into the pass,” Bill said. “You know where we’re going?”

Emma patted the pocket of her jacket. Haven’s letters, which had been in the package with her dress, crinkled under her touch. “I do. But we can’t go there, looking as we do. My boots are so caked with mud they weigh a hundred pounds. First, we need to find a place to wash up and sleep. After we’ve done that, I’ll deal with Hank.”

“We,” Bill reminded her. “You’re not facing him alone.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“I’d rather not take the risk,” Bill replied in a curt tone.

Apart from the night she’d slept in his arms in Cricket Bend, Bill still hadn’t touched her. They’d been riding for two weeks, the only company the other had. Bill had been polite and kind the whole way, but he hadn’t come close to touching her in the way a lover would, the way he had before she’d kicked him in the heart.

His affection for her was blindingly obvious. She figured he was trying to bite his feelings back until Hank was located and dealt with. Emma felt a punch in her gut, knowing Bill was suffering, and it was all her stupid, selfish fault.

From Haven, she had the name of a concert saloon Hank might be found at.

The Magnolia Crow, on Royal Street.

They finally found it. Emma’s nerves calmed a bit once she saw that it wasn’t terribly different from the saloons she’d frequented. Fine, it was bigger and decorated with an elegant iron trim on the outside railings and balconies. Outside the doors, a vast array of posters advertised all sorts of performers. Several of the performers appeared to be women who’d lost their dresses. But it was still just a saloon.

“Ain’t that a sight,” Bill said, seeing the posters. “And this is where Hank is supposed to be?”

“Oh, he’s here.” Emma traced one of the posters with her finger. The picture was of a lovely-faced woman, who didn’t appear to be wearing anything behind a feathered fan. There had been a poster of Emma once, and it had been strikingly similar.

‘The Hummingbird,’
this one read.
‘
Appearing Nightly.’

“I’d bet my life he’s here.”

Near the Magnolia Crow stood a fine-looking hotel. After boarding the horses at a close-by livery for a few days, they entered the lobby. Bill whistled a bit at the fine decoration. Emma would have quickly breezed past it, but when she saw him looking, she stopped. Before the drive, she’d not have noticed the nonsense of all the fine decoration. Keeping the intricate carvings of the room’s walls clean probably took daily dusting. Maybe even twice a day. Who had time for such things?

“May I help you?”

Emma breezed up to the front desk, wearing a big smile. “We’ll take a room.” Emma linked her hand in Bill’s. Leaning forward to the clerk, she gave a little giggle. “We’re passing through on our honeymoon.”

The clerk looked at their clothes. Emma acted fast. “Decided to travel by horse to save some money. It’s been a long trip. I could surely use a hot bath. Could you please have one brought up?”

The clerk grinned back, “Of course. Congratulations to you both. I’ve a nice room on the third floor with a view overlooking the water.” The transaction was fast. Emma held out the money she’d received from Josiah out on the drive, the clerk handed over a key and signed a ledger listing them as Mr. and Mrs. Forest, and in minutes Emma and Bill were shown into a fine room. Walled with clean white wallpaper with tiny purple flowers, the lace-curtained windows showed a view of the busy waterway and the ships that passed through.

“Honeymoon?” Bill asked once the door had closed behind them.

Emma removed her jacket and stretched. “They’d have frowned upon unmarried people staying in the same room. Heaven knows what kind of impropriety could occur.”

“You think us staying in the same room is a good idea?”

Bill glanced at the large bed that stood between them. Emma took his meaning and gulped. The room only held one bed, a complication she hadn’t fully considered.

“I think I’m safer with you around than anyone else on this earth. And I think you won’t get a lick of sleep if you can’t keep an eye on me, and that you’re grumpier than a dog with thistles in its muzzle when you haven’t slept. This way, everyone wins.”

Bill stared at the bed, and shifted his weight.

Break down. Please just stay with me.
She sent her thoughts to him as hard as she could, but it didn’t matter.

“I’ll get my bedroll, sleep on the floor.” Bill turned and was gone from the room so fast Emma didn’t have time to argue with him. It was so obvious to her that they longed for the other’s touch, so perhaps sharing a room would turn out to be a good idea.

“Saints alive,” she breathed as she fell back on the bed.

Oh, the luxury of a featherbed. The softness of the mattress surrounded and supported her, and after weeks of riding and sleeping on the ground, she closed her eyes and reveled in it.

Relaxing fully wasn’t possible. Knowing that Hank was most likely just a few buildings away from her at that moment had her itching to see him, and to confirm they hadn’t come all the way for nothing.

If she didn’t lay eyes on him in person, she’d never be able to sleep.

She scribbled a note to Bill, left it on the bed, and headed back out onto the bustling streets of New Orleans. Outside, it was nearly nightfall. The streetlamps were being lit. She’d memorized the address, and was outside the door of the gambling establishment in only a few minutes. Music wafted out of the doors, along with the jumbled sounds of multiple conversations. The night was young inside the Magnolia Crow, and the party had begun.

Standing outside the doors, with only two pieces of wood between her and Hank, she froze.

Her stomach knotted and twisted over the idea of seeing Hank again. More than anything, she wanted to turn tail, run back to Bill, pull him out of the city, and back to the drive.

Hank had taught her many things: how to read a man’s interest and how to use it to her benefit; endless card games, songs, stories, acts. He’d also taught her how to defend herself—to shoot, to fight, to stand up tall when she was afraid.

So she did as he’d taught her.

A few men came out the doors, and as they swung wide, Emma pulled herself up to her full height and slipped inside the dim room. As her eyes adjusted, memories of places like it filled her head. Folks of all colors drank and jabbered, and the sound of someone banging at a piano filled the air with slightly out-of-tune music. Women in scanty dresses flirted with men at gaming tables, luring them to stay a little longer, play just one more game, have just one more drink. It was crowded already, and Emma felt invisible in her worn trail clothes.

Invisible was good. She would likely go unnoticed.

Where was Hank? Had Haven’s letters been right? Or had Hank, for whatever reason, bailed out of New Orleans just as he had Fort Worth, Cricket Bend, and any number of other cities? She rose on her toes to survey the room. Over the heads of a dozen people, she saw a sea of even more.

And then Emma saw him. “Sweet Father Christmas,” she whispered to no one.

Hank Porter remained every bit as handsome as she remembered him. The rascal’s black hair, dark eyes, and strong jaw hadn’t changed. His tall build and strong form were showcased by his perfectly-tailored vest and pants. Emma watched him move through the crowd with a startling confidence, and mingle with saloon patrons in the manner of a perfect host. The only change she noticed lay in the worn look behind his eyes. Hank was tired. From past regrets or present circumstances, Emma couldn’t have said, and no one but she would have likely noticed. A little sparkle had gone off the diamond, but it still shone.

Into the hall came a man who was greeted warmly by several of the patrons. Their loud entrance caused most of the room, including Hank, to turn toward the very spot where Emma stood. The man came inside, and she ducked behind him and scampered out the doors before anyone noticed her

When she returned to the hotel room, the only light came from a lantern. The golden glow of the small flame cast only a little illumination onto Bill, and Emma chuckled when she saw that he was relaxing in a big clawfoot bathtub he was too tall for. The steam rose off the water, and he had to bend his knees up out of the water in order to fit.

“Enjoying the life of luxury?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “They came and delivered it, like you asked. Didn’t know if you’d be back before it got cold, so I got in. A man could get used to such finery.”

“Planning to put a tub in your house when you get back?”

“I might. I’ll have myself a fancy bath with lavender soap each and every night.”

Emma smiled and went to the mirror on the dresser, where she began to take her hair down from its braid. Her hair fell in waves, and she shook them free.

“Did you find him?”

Of course Bill had known where she’d gone.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Did you talk to him?”

“No. I don’t even think he saw me.” She folded her arms over her chest and looked out the window at the moon over the river. “If he won’t give me a divorce, this whole trip was a waste, and I’ll be right back where I started.”

Bill waited a moment before speaking. “If you’d like, there’s a place for you at the ranch.”

“As a hand?”

“As my wife.”

“I’m married, Bill. He’s four doors down right now.”

He waved dismissively. “Shoot, I know that. But that’s just a piece of paper somewhere. I don’t need paper to know that I love you, and I ain’t ready to leave you here with him and go my way and never see you again. That man is a fool and a scoundrel and no good for anyone.”

“I know that.”

“Then what is holding you back?”

“I wish I knew.” Closing her eyes, Emma leaned against the bedpost and groaned. “I don’t know what to do, Bill.”

“Why don’t you come over here. We can figure it out together.”

Recognizing the look he was giving her as he sat naked in a tub of hot water, Emma raised one eyebrow. She saw his wet hair smoothed back, and the red tint of his skin from the steaming water. His bare chest rose out of the water. More than anything, she wanted to nuzzle into him, to lose herself entwined with him until they fell asleep or the sun rose—whichever came first. “If I come over there, that’s the last thing we’ll do. We both know it.”

“So what if it is?”

“You haven’t touched me in weeks.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to.”

“Why now? Why tonight?”

“Because we’re here. We’ve come so far, and we’re so close. And I can’t think of a better time to get over being stubborn and pig-headed.”

“I can’t either,” Emma answered.

Loving Bill was simple and wonderful. Loving Hank was a mistake and a half and a pain in the rear, to boot. Both men were strong and handsome, but that was where the differences ended. Only one could be trusted, and only one had held her heart with careful hands.

Bill brought his hand out of the water and up over the edge of the tub, offering it to her. Water dripped from his fingers onto the wood of the floor as he said, “Come here.”

What could she do but give in to him and obey? Turning from the bedpost, she took the few steps to the side of the tub and stood over him. The water she looked down upon hid none of his nakedness. Under her gaze, he made no gesture of embarrassment.

With twinkling eyes, he moved his hand so his fingers took hold of a piece of her untucked shirt. “You can’t take a bath with your clothes on, Miss Sparrow.”

“Would you like me to take them off, Mr. McKenzie?”

That adorable crinkle at the corner of his mouth appeared. “I would like that very much. Been a while. I might have forgotten what you look like.”

“Have you really forgotten?”

“Never.” He winked at her.

Emma had undressed for men before. Hell, she’d been Bill’s lover before. But this, in a room in a city strange to both of them, was different. His eyes on her were different now. They’d come through hills and valleys together. Somewhere along the way, the intention behind his brown eyes had changed. Emma felt she’d changed as well. If they’d been playing games before, this time it was for keeps.