Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone Sheriff\The Gentleman Rogue\Never Trust a Rebel (14 page)

“Nope. We already tried that. You got your leg skinned by a bullet.”

She pinned him with eyes like flat green stones. “Jericho, you promised. You gave me your word.”

He just stared at her over his coffee mug. It just might be a good idea to set a trap for Tucker and lie in wait on the train, but the risk to Maddie wasn't worth it. He didn't want her anywhere near the Tucker gang.

Besides, spending another night in Portland with her didn't seem the least bit intelligent. In fact, he thought with a twinge of regret, it would be downright foolhardy.

And damn dangerous.

But she was right—he had given his word, and not once since he was a kid had he ever gone back on it. He didn't like her idea, not one bit, but he had promised.

“Okay, Mrs. Detective, we'll try your plan.”

He stood up slowly. “I'm going over to see Warriner at the bank.”

She sprang up out of her chair. “I will go with you.”

Jericho just shook his head. Being around Maddie was like trying to outrun a swarm of bees.

Being around Maddie was...driving him crazy. He couldn't stop thinking about kissing her that night at the boardinghouse. In fact, for the last four days it was
all
he could think about.

He'd never let her know that, though. Whatever fire he felt smoldering in his chest he'd have to damp down for good when she went back to Chicago. He sure as hell didn't want to get in so deep he couldn't walk away when the time came.

Chapter Fifteen

B
y suppertime, Jericho and Maddie had spread enough rumors that the whole town was talking about the supposed gold shipment the following morning on the seven-o'clock train to Portland.

By sunup the next day the townspeople gathered at the station to watch the bulky Wells Fargo bags being loaded into the mail car.

Maddie boarded, making a show of going to Portland “for some shopping.” Dressmaker Verena Forester stood on the platform in a trim gray silk day dress calling last-minute instructions to her client.

“Not too heavy a wool, Mrs. O'Donnell. And be sure to purchase enough for a matching hat.”

Maddie raised her voice theatrically. “I won't forget, Verena. Thank you for reminding me.”

Jericho and his posse, Rooney Cloudman and Colonel Wash Halliday, bristling with sidearms, ostentatiously climbed on board, and with a lurch the train chugged off down the tracks. Unknown to the townspeople, the “posse” would debark at the first stop where they had horses waiting and be home in Smoke River in time for supper.

Maddie settled into her seat in the passenger car and swallowed a bite of the extra biscuits Rita had packed. The plan was perfect. Except...

She sat next to Jericho wondering when he would mention that kiss. What she should say.

But he didn't say one word about it. Perhaps his mind was on their plan. That thought brought a little hiccup to her thinking. “There's just one thing,” she said hesitantly.

Jericho pulled his gaze away from the scene rolling by outside the window. “Yeah?”

“What if the gang really
does
show up today?”

“They won't. Their snitch in town hasn't had enough time to ride out to wherever Tucker's camp is now and tip them off. But they'll know for sure about our next fake shipment, and that's when they'll come runnin'.”

And Jericho swore he'd be there to capture them. Without Maddie, if he could figure out how to manage it.

Maddie patted her mouth with a napkin. “I have been trying to identify who exactly is tipping Tucker off.”

Jericho reached into the wicker basket for another biscuit. “Relax, Mrs. Detective. Whoever it is should be runnin' his horse into a lather right now, trying to reach Tucker. We're perfectly safe.”

“Oh, good. Jericho, when we get to Portland, could we...? I mean, I would so much like to visit Sundae again.”

Jericho stared at her. “That palomino you fell in love with? Sure, I guess so.”

And then another thought hit him and he sat straight up in his seat as if a ball of lightning had rolled onto his lap.
What happened after that?
She'd visit her horse, and then what? That left a whole evening, and another long night, alone with Maddie.

Under his shirt collar, Jericho began to sweat. He knew only one thing. No way in hell were they going to share a hotel room like they had before.

* * *

“Why, Mr. and Mrs. Silver,” the hotel clerk said with a smile on his round, shiny face. “How nice to see you again.”

Jericho opened his mouth to explain, but the man plunged on. “Good time to visit, folks, it being Fourth of July and all. City's got lotsa things planned, big picnic and a band concert, fireworks in the evening, and—”

“We would like two separate rooms,” Maddie interrupted.

“How's that again?
Two
rooms?” The clerk's wiry red eyebrows went up, then settled into a frown. “Oh, I see,” he said, leaning toward Jericho. “Little lady's upset, is she?”

“No, the ‘little lady' is not upset,” Maddie said through clenched teeth. “It's just that we are not really—”

“Don't make no nevermind, Mrs. Silver. Hotels are all full up anyway. Every hotel in town's busting its seams, so it's one room or noth—”

“Fine,” Jericho interrupted. “Let's have the key.”

Maddie followed him up the carpeted staircase with an odd sense of elation. She knew it was purely scandalous to share a room with the sheriff again, but no one would ever know.

Besides, at the moment she did not care. She was hot and stiff from sitting on the train for six long hours, and what she cared about at this moment was having a bath and a big steak dinner.

After all, they had shared a room the last time they were in Portland. This would be no different.

Oh, yes, it would
.

The last time they were in Portland was before Jericho had kissed her. Whether he remembered doing so or not did not matter; that kiss had changed things between them. She knew it as surely as cats had kittens. And he knew it, too. She could tell by the way he avoided her eyes.

Jericho unlocked the hotel room door and she stepped inside. Heavens, it was the same room they had shared before. The same window overlooking the street below, the same washstand, the same two beds, but now, oh, heavens! The beds had been shoved together in the center of the room.

“You want a bath brought up?”

“What? Oh, a bath. Yes, I would like a bath.” But good gracious, she could not bathe with him in the room.

“Jericho, do you not have something you need to do in Portland?”

His dark eyebrows rose, but his mouth twitched. “Do?”

“Yes, ‘do.' You know, visit the livery stable or the mercantile or...something.”

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “Can't think of a thing.”

“But, well, then could you—”

“Oh, sure. I'll order a bath for you on my way out.”

He laughed on his way to the door.

Unless she was very much mistaken, he had been teasing her. Imagine, short-spoken, no-nonsense Sheriff Silver with a sense of humor.

“Where are you going?”

“Barber shop next door to the hotel.”

“Jericho?”

He still would not meet her gaze. “Yeah?”

“After supper, could I...could we...visit Sundae?”

Jericho had to laugh. Here they were, holed up together in a compromising situation, and she wanted to visit a horse? As long as he lived, he'd never understand this woman.

“Could we?” she persisted.

He did look at her, then. Straight into her clear green eyes, and the longing he saw in their depths made his gut clench. “We can sure as hell try, Maddie.”

All the way down the stairs he shook his head in disbelief. Guess it was plain damn stupid of him to worry about sharing a room with Mrs. Detective; she was more interested in a palomino mare than she was in him.

After supper in the hotel dining room, they set out on foot for the carnival grounds where the Fourth of July fireworks display would be held. The horse corral would be in the field next to the grounds.

The evening was balmy, the stars overhead like tiny diamonds tossed at random across the purple-black night sky. Jericho inhaled the spicy-sweet scent of roses and felt a dart of pain under his breastbone. Little Bear had loved the roses in the orphanage garden. He wondered if they were still there.

Instantly he clamped his teeth together. That place held nothing but bad memories and the feeling of loneliness and not belonging that he'd tried to shake for twenty years. No way in hell did he want to see the place, or its rose garden, ever again.

In silence he kept pace with Maddie along streets lined with stately homes behind intricate black wrought-iron fences. They walked four blocks in silence before Maddie spoke.

“These houses remind me of where I grew up.”

“Pretty fancy,” Jericho commented.

“Oh, not so fancy inside. Our house had only five bedrooms.”

Jericho said nothing. Jupiter, only five bedrooms? The difference between his life and Maddie's was like tumbleweeds in a fancy room with velvet drapes.

He tried to think of something else, but all kinds of thoughts kept bumping their ugly heads into his brain. Five bedrooms!

Ah, hell, maybe he shouldn't think so much.

He liked this woman. He liked her better than he'd liked any female he'd ever known, except maybe for Little Bear.

“Jericho? The orphanage you were raised in was here in Portland, was it not?”

“Yeah,” he said shortly.

“What was it like, really?”

His belly tightened. “Strict,” he shot back. “Cold. Bad food. As different from houses like these—” he gestured at the huge brick mansion they were passing “—as potatoes from ripe peaches.” He didn't want to go on.

“You were not happy there?”

“Not one damn day.”

“I was not happy in my father and mother's house, either.”

That surprised him. She'd probably had everything a kid could want, friends, music lessons, parties.

“Really,” he said drily.

“Really,” she echoed. She hesitated. “I was...lonely.”

Oh, sure she was. The poor little rich girl with too many dresses. They moved on without talking until he heard her voice again.

“Jericho, you did not like me when I came to Smoke River, did you?”

“You're right, I didn't.” He couldn't think of another word to add, so he snapped his jaw shut and kept walking.

“But we've been through a terrible ordeal together, both of us getting shot, I mean.”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Then we are friends now, are we not?”

His throat closed. Friends? He'd tried hard not to think too much about their relationship, but he knew damn well they were more than friends. How much more, he couldn't bring himself to consider.

“Yeah, I guess we're friends.”

She gave a little skip, which made him laugh. “You cannot imagine how glad that makes me.”

“Why?” He almost choked on the question.

“Well, I...I think quite highly of you.”

“I think highly of you, too, Maddie.” He kept his voice steady, but his insides were flipping like Mexican jumping beans.

She scooted out in front and spun to face him. “You do? Really?” She walked backward until she came to a dip in the sidewalk and her balance wavered. He snaked a hand to her shoulder to steady her.

Abruptly she halted. Barely conscious of what he was doing, Jericho closed his fingers on her other shoulder. She smiled up at him.

For the first time in a bunch of hours he let himself look directly into her eyes. Big mistake. He wanted to pull her close, wrap his arms around her and hold on. Wanted to feel her heart hammer against his.

What the hell was the matter with him?

He blew out a lungful of air. Nothing was the matter. He simply wanted to kiss her. He was a man and she was a woman and he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to close his eyes and breathe in her lavender scent, let it sweep him off to that muddled, happy state he remembered from when he'd kissed her before.

“Maddie...”

“Oh, look! There's the gypsy fortune-teller! The horse corral is right behind her tent. Come on.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him past the gaudy canvas, and then she stopped dead. What had been the horse corral was nothing but an empty field with a split-rail fence running around it.

“They're gone,” she moaned. “The horses are gone. Sundae is gone.”

She stood staring at the space, shaking her head in disbelief. “Sundae is gone,” she said again. This time her voice broke.

His stomach turned over. “Probably some rancher from hereabouts had loaned his stock to the carnival folks and...”

She nodded and sniffled back tears. “Of course. I sh-should have thought of that, but truly I did not w-want to.”

Damn. He'd give anything if she wouldn't cry; it did funny things to his insides.

“Maddie, look, the ice-cream stand's still there. Want an ice-cream cone?”

“Y-yes,” she said slowly. “No. Oh, I don't know.”

He took her hand and drew her to the ice-cream vendor's stall. She stood in front of the man for a long time and finally ordered a double strawberry cone.

He couldn't watch her lick it. Her little pink tongue flicking in and out gave him the worst hard-on he'd had in years.

All the way back to the hotel he struggled to keep his eyes on the sidewalk and not on her mouth, and when she finally crunched up the last of the crisp wafer he let out a sigh of relief.

Then he spent eight blocks trying like hell not to notice the smear of pink ice cream on her lower lip.

He groaned out loud. Sleeping in the same room with Maddie was the worst idea he'd ever had in his life.

He wanted to touch her so bad he ached.