The Tracker (11 page)

Nick coaxed her lips open. His tongue explored her mouth, sending more waves of pleasure through her body. Heat burned at her core.

A savage noise rumbled in his chest. He broke the kiss. “I want you.”

His voice was rougher than the jagged mountain peaks. Ellie couldn’t speak.

This was all so wonderful.

And it felt very, very good.

The urge to surrender herself to him had her ready to say yes.

Then Nick whispered the things he wanted to do to her when he got her into bed. The raw language cut through the haze of desire. Shock radiated through her limbs. Her mind cleared. He’d spoken to her as though she was a whore. She felt dirty.

She pulled out of his arms. Her hands trembled as she pushed a mop of curls off her face.

Nick Baron stared down at her, his hooded eyes filled with dark desire. “What’s wrong?”

“The way you spoke to me—I didn’t like it.” She sounded like a prissy schoolgirl.

He looked surprised. “I thought you’d like what I said.”

The fire in her was gone. “I didn’t.”

He reached out to her as if desperate to return to what they’d had. “Then I won’t say those things again. I promise to make it good for you.”

He captured the thin folds of her sleeve in his fingertips. She pulled back. “No.”

He released the fabric. “There is something between us, Ellie. I feel it and so do you. Why are you fighting it? There is no reason why we can’t enjoy each other.”

In all the years she’d lived in the brothel she’d protected the innocence inside her. She’d guarded it, believing the right man would cherish her. It shook her to her core to realize she’d nearly tossed away what she’d saved for so long. Adeline had always said some handsome man with smooth moves would steal away her purity and then, before she knew it, she’d be selling herself. She’d denied it and yet here she was.

A moment passed before she could speak in a
calm voice. “I’m sure it would be real nice, but you’re not offering what I really want.”

“What
do
you want?” His voice was ragged with desire.

She felt foolish now. “Marriage.”

He looked shocked.

She shrugged. “And with marriage, I want a home.”

He stepped back as if she’d tried to burn him. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “I can’t give you that. After Crystal, I swore I’d never marry again.”

She lifted her chin. “Somehow I’d expected that answer.” She kept her voice even, but her insides felt twisted and bruised.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need. Fact, it’s good we both know where we stand now.”

E
LLIE TOSSED
and turned most of the night, dreaming of Nick. She fed the baby around two but despite her exhaustion she couldn’t fall back to sleep. An hour before dawn, she could stand it no more. Her sheets were twisted, her body ached and her eyes were puffy with fatigue. She climbed out of her bed, anxious for chores that would take her mind off Nick.

When Nick came downstairs an hour later, she had biscuits, fried ham and eggs on the table.

Nick grabbed a couple of biscuits and a cup of coffee. “I’ve got stalls to clean.”

“Okay.” She didn’t protest or encourage him to eat. She needed distance from him.

Ellie moved to the window and watched him stride toward the barn. He walked with the confidence of a man comfortable in his abilities. He was a man who knew what he did and did not want.

And he didn’t want marriage.

She sighed. There was no fretting over what just wasn’t going to be.

Ellie did her best not to think about Nick. She cleaned the ashes from the stove, she dragged the kitchen rug outside and beat the dust from it, and she cared for Rose. Yet no matter how busy she was, her mind kept drifting back to him, to the look of raw passion burning in his eyes when he’d looked at her last night.

She also thought a lot about the things he’d whispered in her ear—the things he’d like to do to her—and she found she wasn’t as shocked or repulsed as time passed. In fact, thinking about what he’d said sounded kind of fun.

Lord help her. And take Nick Baron out of her life before her resolve melted and she gave herself to him.

Ellie was churning butter on the porch when Nick strode out of the barn. His shirt was stained with sweat. Her heart jumped at the sight of him.

“There’s cool water on the kitchen table,” she said. “I reckon you’re thirsty.”

“Thanks.” He disappeared into the house and returned moments later with a mug for himself and one for her. He handed her the glass.

She was touched he’d thought of her. “You didn’t have to do that.” She sipped her water. It was refreshing.

“Was no trouble.” He rubbed his thigh.

“Is your wound bothering you? It’s not infected, is it?”

“The stitches bother me. They itch.”

“They should be ready to come out now.” She didn’t trust herself to touch him. “Give me about a half hour to finish the butter and then I’ll have a look at them.”

Nick nodded stiffly. She sensed he didn’t like the idea of her touching him, either. But there was no getting around what had to be done.

Thirty minutes later Nick sat at the kitchen table, his bare legs covered with a blanket. His right leg, which looked as if it had been sculpted from granite, was exposed. Dark hair curled around the white bandage.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. What worried her more than anything was that she
wanted
to touch him.

She sighed. The sooner she got his stitches removed, the sooner he could get back to his chores. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get a lucky break and Frank would show very
soon,
Nick could catch him
soon,
she’d get her reward money
soon
and she could get on with her life!

“This shouldn’t take but a minute,” she said.

Nick sat with his hands fisted on his thighs as if
he were expecting a great deal of pain. He probably didn’t like being partially clothed and vulnerable. “Fine.”

Ellie set her medical box on the table. “Taking stitches out is painless. You don’t have to worry.”

He unfurled his fingers, joint by joint, until his palms rested at his sides. “I’m not worried about pain.”

“Oh.” Ellie retrieved the small scissors from the box and knelt beside him. “I’m going to cut away the bandage.” She tucked a curl behind her ear and leaned closer to him. The heat of his body radiated around her as she slid the blade under the white muslin.

He didn’t flinch but his breathing grew shallower. It was clear he didn’t like having her close.

Ellie gently peeled off the bandage. To her great relief, the wound had puckered gently. There was no hint of redness or infection around the seven neat stitches. “The salves have worked nicely. You shouldn’t even have much of a scar.”

He nodded. “Just get the stitches out.”

Ellie leaned closer and slid the scissors under the first stitch, snipped it and then gently tugged it free. She repeated the process six more times. “All out. Let me put a little salve on the wound and a small bandage and then you are done.”

“Okay.”

She grabbed the salve jar and dug out a liberal portion with her fingers. She smoothed it gently over the wound. His muscles felt hard under her fingertips. “It’s a good idea to favor the leg for a few more days. You could still tear the wound open.” The salve’s aggressive scent filled the air around them.

He wrinkled his nose. “What is that? It smells like dung.”

Ellie laughed. “They’re herbs. I know they smell bad, but they really are quite effective. I smeared this stuff all up and down your leg when you were unconscious.”

He turned his head. “It’s a wonder I didn’t die from the fumes.”

“Consider yourself lucky. You
were
unconscious. I was awake.”

He grunted.

She washed her hands. “The wound needs to be bandaged for a few more days.”

“Fine.”

She’d bandaged the leg a half dozen times over the last week, but with him sitting here glaring down at her, the moment just felt too intimate. She cleared her throat. “Stand up so I can wrap the bandage around your leg to protect it a couple more days.”

He glanced down at the blanket. He’d have to expose more of himself so she could complete the task. “I can take it from here, Ellie. Just give me the bandage.”

Grateful, she handed the clean strips of muslin to him. She turned her back, facing the sink to give him privacy.

He began to wrap his leg.

“Don’t wrap it too tight,” she said, her back to him. “It will cut off the flow of blood.”

“Right.”

Lord help her, but she itched to turn around and help him. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Positive.”

The sound of wagon wheels rumbling into the front yard silenced her.

Muttering an oath, Nick finished wrapping the bandage and pulled on his pants. “Damn, you’d think this place was the only coach stop in Montana.”

“It’s the only one for a hundred miles.” Ellie went to the front window and peeked outside. “It’s one of the Starlight coaches. The driver is Sandy. He’s one of our regular customers.”

He strapped on his gun. “I will walk outside with you.”

“I already told you, I recognize the driver.”

“Do you know who is in his coach? Do you know
whether or not Frank is sitting inside the coach with a gun drawn, ready to shoot both of us?”

“I’d not thought of that.”

“Until Frank is captured, you better start thinking like that. He is as mean as a snake and very, very cunning.”

Ellie sighed.

“You put yourself in the middle of this mess when you ran with that baby,” he said. His voice had lost the edge of anger.

Ellie straightened her shoulders. He was right. She’d made a choice. But she’d never take it back. Rose was worth the danger.

Managing a bright smile, Ellie pulled off her apron and smoothed the stray curls of her hair. “Lead the way.”

N
ICK STRODE OUTSIDE
. He kept Ellie behind him as he studied the face of Sandy, the driver. The man looked young. A spray of freckles covered the bridge of his nose and his body and blond beard had yet to fill out.

Sandy set the hand brake and hopped down off the driver’s seat. The smile on his face vanished when he saw Nick. “Ellie, everything all right here?”

Ellie peeked around Nick. Her smile was radiant and so full of life. Nick felt a pang of jealousy as she
pushed past him and walked up to the driver. She held out her hand. “It’s fine, Sandy.”

Sandy took her hand. “You’re looking real fine today, Ellie.” The boy was smitten with her.

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“That a new dress?”

She ran her hands over the blue fabric. “Annie gave it to me. My other one is soaking. I took a little tumble in the mud.”

Nick did not like the easy familiarity between the two. It grated on his nerves. His shoulder brushed hers as he held out his hand to Sandy. “My name is Nick Baron.”

Sandy’s eyes narrowed. “The bounty hunter.”

The reputation that had worked so well for him in the past now haunted him. “That’s right.”

“You sure everything is all right here?” Sandy asked Ellie.

“Yes.”

“Has he been here long?” Sandy asked.

“I am waiting on an old friend,” Nick said. A part of him admired the young pup’s grit. The boy reminded him of himself when he’d been young and in love.

“Well, your friend won’t have any trouble finding Annie’s coach stop,” Sandy said to Nick. “Ellie’s cooking has sparked new interest in the place.”

“So I’ve discovered,” Nick said.

Ellie took a small step away from Nick. “Any passengers today?”

Sandy’s eyes widened as if he’d forgotten all about his passengers. “Sure are. Better let them out.” He hurried to the side of the coach, opened the door and lowered the folding stairs. “We’re here at Annie’s, folks. Step right on out!”

The driver extended his hand into the coach and helped an older woman down. Dressed in black, she was short and portly. Her gray hair was tightly bound under her black, lace-trimmed bonnet.

“What a horrendous ride!” the woman said. “I’ve never known a coach driver to drive so fast.”

“Mrs. Douglas, I wanted to get you here so you could sample some of Miss Ellie’s fine cooking before we make the final push to Thunder Canyon.” Sandy winked at Ellie. “Be right back—got to run to the necessary.”

Mrs. Douglas dabbed a lace handkerchief to her lips. “My bones will ache for weeks.”

Ellie moved to the carriage. “Welcome.”

Mrs. Douglas’s gaze slid up and down Ellie. She handed Ellie her small satchel. “Do you have honey this time? The last time we passed through, you didn’t have honey. I can’t enjoy my meal unless I have honey on my bread.”

“We are well stocked,” Ellie said. “And I have chokeberry preserves that I put up only last week.”

Mrs. Douglas shook her head. “Stains my teeth. I want honey.”

“Of course.”

Nick didn’t like the woman. He was tempted to put her back in the coach and to tell Sandy to keep driving.

A tall, thin man jumped down off the carriage. Black hair drooped over his clean-shaven face. He wore a gray wool suit and a hat made of beaver. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his face toward the sun.

Ellie recognized him instantly. “Dr. Robert Morgan. You passed through about five weeks ago.”

The doctor smiled as he looked at her. “Ah, Mrs. Watson! I was hoping to see you again.”

Mrs. Watson. So, Ellie was passing herself off as a widow.

“Spring Rock and you are the bright spot on this very, very long trip,” the doctor said, moving toward her. Despite the complaint, his tone was good-natured.

Ellie smiled. “Where’s your horse, Dr. Morgan?”

He grinned. “She went lame in the last town. Sandy was kind enough to give me a ride back to Thunder Canyon.”

Dr. Morgan removed his hat. “You’re looking fit.”

“You’re looking well yourself.” She nodded toward Nick. “This is Mr. Baron. He’s also a guest.”

Nick took the doctor’s smooth, uncallused hand. “Dr. Morgan.”

The carriage shifted as someone moved inside it. There was a loud thud and a woman’s screech.

“I doubt I can endure another coach stop,” a young woman complained. She peeked out the carriage door. Black ringlets dangled around a plump face.

“Only one to go before we are home, Robyn,” Mrs. Douglas said as she brushed the dust from her sleeve. “Doctor, would you mind helping my daughter down from the carriage?” Her tone was overly sweet.

Dr. Morgan tore his gaze from Ellie and held out his hand to Miss Douglas, who was about Ellie’s age.

“Come on, Miss Douglas, and stretch your legs,” Dr. Morgan said.

Miss Douglas smiled at the doctor. “Thank you,” she said, softening her tone. She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned on him as she climbed down.

“Welcome,” Ellie said.

Miss Douglas, who wore a stylish green traveling dress, didn’t look at Ellie as she brushed the trail dust from her skirts.

Miss Douglas had been spoiled and protected all her life, Nick decided. He knew her type. Though she was about the same age as Ellie, he would bet Ellie possessed twice her wisdom and maturity.

Miss Douglas’s glass-green gaze traveled around the small coach stop. “I don’t like this place. It always looks so dirty.”

Mrs. Douglas glanced down at her daughter and then smiled at the doctor. “Yes, well one must do what one must do.”

“I liked the hotel in Denver better,” Miss Douglas whined.

“We’re not as fancy here,” Ellie said brightly. “But the place is clean and the food is good.”

“It’s always a pleasure to visit,” Dr. Morgan said.

“Where is Annie?” Mrs. Douglas asked.

“She’s gone to see her folks. She’ll be back before the snow falls.”

“Annie knows how to take care of us,” Mrs. Douglas said.

“I’m sure I can handle whatever you need.”

“I want you to put Dr. Morgan’s expenses on my tab today,” Mrs. Douglas said.

“That’s not necessary,” Dr. Morgan said, blushing.

“Nonsense,” the older woman replied.

He nodded. “Thank you for your generosity.”

Nick shifted his stance, wincing. His leg ached and he found his patience growing thin.

The doctor noticed immediately. “An injury, Mr. Baron?”

“Gunshot wound.”

Mrs. Douglas paled. “Oh, my. I hope it wasn’t one of those desperate renegade
Indians?
”

Nick didn’t like the emphasis she’d placed on “Indian.” Though he’d fought many fierce battles against the Indians in Kansas, he’d learned to respect not only their fighting skills but their cultures. “No Indians.”