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Authors: Victoria Bylin

Wyoming Lawman (17 page)

BOOK: Wyoming Lawman
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Chapter Eighteen

P
earl looked out the window of Jasper's store and saw a smattering of raindrops. She'd asked Jasper for permission to leave early for the tea party and he'd given it, but he'd also asked her to dust the shelves before she left. The coming storm gave her an excuse to put off the tedious chore. Not only did she want to keep her promise to Sarah, she was also tired of Jasper's company. All day she'd felt his eyes on her back. Was he deliberately crowding her, or was she overreacting? Pearl didn't know, but she'd had all she could take of his strange ways.

Eager to leave, she went to his office. Through the open door, she saw him dipping a pen in ink. “Mr. Kling?”

“Pearl!” His arm jerked and the ink spattered. His brow furrowed with annoyance.

“It's starting to rain. May I leave now?”

“Is the dusting finished?”

“No, but I'll come early tomorrow.”

The pen hung in his hand, dripping ink on the ledger sheet. She knew he'd heard her. He heard everything. She tried again. “The rain's getting worse.”

“Yes, a storm.” He set down the pen.

A gust of rain hammered the window. The glass
shook but didn't break. Her belly clenched. “I need to get home.”

“But you'll catch your death,” he said smoothly. “Wait out the storm here. I'll walk you home when it's over.”

“No thank you,” she managed. “I have a-a commitment.” She didn't want to mention her promise to Sarah. “My father's expecting me.”

“Tobias and I are friends.” His eyes glittered behind his spectacles. “He'd expect me to watch out for you.”

No way would she be alone with Jasper in a store closed for business, especially not in a rainstorm. She wanted to walk out, but she couldn't risk antagonizing him. All week she'd worried that Jasper had begun to suspect her father. If she reacted now, she'd be denying her father's seeming trust of him. She had to behave as normally as possible. “I really do have to leave.” She tried to sound regretful. “If you'll excuse me—”

“Just one thing.”

Ignoring him, she went to the storeroom where she kept her cloak. The size of a bedroom, it held crates and a hodgepodge of unsold items. Two windows let in light, and a third beam came from the doorway. As she reached for her hat, something cut off the light from the door. She turned and saw Jasper with his hands on the doorframe, blocking the way out.

“Stay,” he said in a silky tone. “I'll look out for you.”

“I can't.” She forced a smile. “If you'll excuse me, I have to get home.”

He stepped into the room, cornering her by a shelf holding women's shoes. Rain turned into a torrent against the glass, and the light dimmed to a smoky haze. She smelled the starch in his shirt and the thickness of his breath. In his eyes she saw a gleam magnified by his spectacles…the same gleam she'd seen in Franklin Dean's eyes when he'd
purposely taken a wrong turn on that buggy ride. Sweat beaded on her brow and her stomach recoiled. She needed to think, but she'd been reduced to a bundle of reactions. Fight or flee… She didn't know.

Jasper smiled at her.

She wanted to look away, but she feared turning her back. She settled for taking a step to the side. Her foot caught the corner of a crate and she lost her balance. As she reached for a shelf to steady herself, Jasper gripped her elbow.

“I've got you,” he said.

Pearl pulled away from him, but he didn't let go of her arm. Darkness pressed from the ceiling and walls. She thought of the leather hood of Franklin Dean's buggy, the way it blocked the sun. Her pulse pounded in her ears, blurring all conscious thought except for one truth. Not even for her father's safety could she risk another minute in Jasper's presence. She jerked out of his grasp and ran out of the storeroom.

“Pearl! Wait.”

As she raced to the front of the store, she realized she'd left her cloak and hat in the storeroom. She didn't dare go back for them. Silently she prayed Jasper hadn't already locked the front door. She gripped the knob and it turned. The door opened and she fled into the rain. Wanting to vanish from sight, she sped across the street, ruining her shoes in the puddles and staining her stockings. Rain drenched her hair and face. Mud clung to the hem of her gown, weighting her down.

She wanted to go home, but the house would be full of little girls and their mothers. Neither did she want to see her father until she'd regained her composure. Desperate for a dry place to hide, she slipped down an alley and took cover under a staircase. Shivering, she huddled next to a
stack of wood and a barrel that smelled of food scraps. Bowing her head, she sobbed with the freedom given only by privacy.

 

When he fetched Sarah from the tea party, Matt deliberately arrived late. He wanted a few words with Tobias, and he didn't want to have them in front of ten talkative women and a bevy of little girls. He also needed to see Pearl. Since the day at the dress shop, he'd questioned key members of the G.O. Every one of them had complained about Scottie's girls shopping on Dryer Street. Would Jasper punish Pearl for her kindness to the two prostitutes? It seemed all too possible.

The dreary weather didn't help his mood. Dark clouds had rolled in from the west and turned Cheyenne into box-like shadows. Expecting a storm, he'd put on an oilcloth poncho that hung to his knees. It protected his clothing and his gun belt, but it didn't shield his gut from constant churning. With his nerves tight, he walked up the steps to Carrie's house.

Before he could ring the bell, she flung open the door. “Oh! You're not Pearl!”

“She's not here?”

“She's late. She missed the party.” Carrie clipped the words. “She said she'd be here. She promised Sarah. Something's wrong. I feel it.”

So did Matt. No way would Pearl break her word to a child. He had to get to Jasper's store. If the G.O. had discovered the ruse, Pearl would be in danger.

“I'm going after her,” he said to Carrie.

“Hurry!”

As Matt turned from the door, Tobias strode into the foyer and lifted his coat. “I'm going with you.”

The old man looked ashen. “It's raining, sir. Stay here.”

Tobias glowered. “Do you think I care about getting wet?”

“No, but you can't help me.”

“But—”

“Sir, with all due respect, you'll be in the way.”

The men traded a look, then Tobias accepted the decision with a nod. “Bring her back, Wiley. If something happens to her I'll—”

“I know.” If something happened to Sarah, Matt wouldn't be able to stop himself. The wail of a baby—Pearl's baby—cut through the air from a back room. Toby wanted his mama, and Matt wanted to find her. He looked past Carrie to Tobias. The men exchanged a glance only a father would understand, then Matt turned on his heels and went to find Pearl.

To save time, he cut down an alley that led to Jasper's shop. As soon as he rounded the corner, he heard a woman sobbing. The misery of it carried over the splash of the rain and the thud of his boots. As he picked up his pace, he heard a gasp and the crying stopped.

Peering down the alley, he spotted a stairwell that offered cover from the storm. The dusky light had the sheen of pewter, but he could still see colors. Between a wood pile and barrel of scraps, he spotted a tangle of white-gold hair, blue calico, Pearl's pink cheeks and her red lips rounded with fright.

Looking at her now, Matt surrendered to the love he was utterly powerless to stop. It consumed him. It bullied him. Instead of setting him free, the depth of his love enslaved him. He had to protect her, and that meant shielding her from storms of all kinds—the one in his heart, the one raining down on her now. He didn't know what had driven her
into the rain without her cloak, but he had his suspicions. If Jasper had harmed her, justice
would
be served.

First, though, he had to get Pearl out of the rain. Her dress was clinging to her legs and her hair was a soggy mess. When he reached the stairwell, the wind gusted. To shield her, he stretched his arms to make a wall of sorts with the slicker. He put one hand on the beam supporting the stairs and the other on a riser, making himself a wall between Pearl and the wind. He felt a hint of warmth and hoped she felt it, too.

“What happened?” he said gently.

She shook her head.

He couldn't tolerate silence. “Did he touch you? Did he—”

“No.” The word came out in a choked cry. “He—he—” She pressed her hands to her face. “Go away, Matt.
Please.

“Absolutely not.”

“I'll—I'll be all right. I just need to—” As a cry escaped from her throat, she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with tears she couldn't stop.

Matt knew too much about women who'd been assaulted. Some got mad and wanted to murder their attackers. A few fled. Far too many blamed themselves for what a man did. That reaction troubled him, but he understood the logic. No one wanted to admit to being a victim. It stripped a man of his pride and a woman of her peace. He couldn't let Pearl believe that lie.

“Look at me, darlin'.”

She shook her head.

He kept his voice low. “You know I won't leave you like this.”

A squeak came from her throat.

“That's right,” he drawled. “I'm here to keep you safe.”

If he touched her, she'd balk. Except for the sound of their breath, he stayed silent. The next move had to be hers and it was…. Her index fingers twitched, then she moved her pinkies and revealed her tear-stained eyes. He'd never seen a woman so vulnerable, so in need of a man's strong arms. He ached to hold her, but he feared the consequences. The shape of her would be sealed in his memory. Even worse, the closeness might frighten her. Whatever Matt did, he wanted it to be best for Pearl. Whatever she needed, he'd give to her.

He used the tone he used with Sarah when she skinned a knee. “I'm right here. Tell me what you need.”

Slowly she slid her hands down her cheeks until they cupped her jaw, then she crossed her arms over her heart and squeezed hard. After a deep breath, she lowered her hands to her sides and looked defiantly into his eyes.

Matt saw fear and something deeper, something he recognized as a man. She wanted to be kissed. The slicker made a wall of sorts, a covering. It made the space small and dark…intimate. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her fully. He wanted to hold her in his arms and keep her safe. But at what cost? He couldn't promise her more than this moment. A woman like Pearl deserved everything a man had to give.

He touched her cheek with his thumb, wiping rain and tears from her hot skin. His heart pounded with a love beyond his understanding. “Ah, Pearl,” he murmured. “How did this happen?”

“I—I don't know.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “But it did.”

The both knew what
it
was. She wanted to be kissed, and he wanted to kiss her. He swallowed hard, feeling the
tightness and the longing, then he touched her cheek. Gently he tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear.

He opened his mouth to speak, to say
We shouldn't do this.
But her lids fluttered shut and her chin lifted. When he didn't move, she opened her eyes. What he saw tied his heart in knots. She wanted to kiss him, but she feared her reaction. Would she triumph or panic?

One code of honor required him to maintain his distance. He had no business kissing a woman outside the bounds of courtship, especially not a woman as vulnerable as Pearl. Another code—a code of men at war—demanded he help her up and over this hill. Was she ready for this moment? What if kissing her destroyed the fragile progress she'd made? He saw costs to himself, as well. If they kissed, he'd never forget it. He'd remember the silk of her lips, the saltiness of tears mixed with rain. Not even whistling “Dixie” would chase away the wanting.

So be it. Pearl needed his help.

Stepping closer, he touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She bit her lips, then relaxed them. A tremble pulsed to his fingers, but her eyes flared with courage. When she swayed ever so slightly in his direction, he brushed her lips with his. Once, twice. When her eyes stayed closed, he lingered over the third kiss without reluctance. A cry came from her throat. Before he could draw back, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him as close as she could. The kiss turned fierce, as if she were fighting memories. Just as suddenly, she relaxed in his arms and he knew she'd won the war.

He kissed her back sweetly, tenderly…long enough to feel her confidence build. He didn't want to stop, but he had to pull back. A sweet saint and a bitter sinner… They had no future. As he broke the connection of their lips, he
tucked her head under his chin. “I didn't mean for that to happen.”

“I did,” she whispered.

With their hearts beating in perfect time, he searched for the right words. She'd crossed a battlefield today. Together they'd fought an enemy and she hadn't panicked. He hoped the kiss was enough, because he had nothing else to give.

“Now you know,” he said with authority.

“I do?”

If she needed reassurance, he'd give it to her. “That kiss… You don't need to be afraid anymore. Someday you'll meet a man. He'll—”

She whispered against his jaw. “I've already met him.”

He understood but wished he didn't. “Don't say that.”

“Why not?”

“I'm not right for you, Pearl. I've done things. I've—”

She pushed back and looked into his eyes. He saw questions in her gaze, but he also saw a bold certainty. This woman didn't believe in cowering before anyone. She'd risk her heart for him.

“Ah, Pearl.” He couldn't deny his feelings, but neither could he tell her the truth. If he admitted to loving her, where would they be? In a hole deeper than the one he'd just dug. He needed to explain himself to her, but not here. Not with the rain pelting them and Pearl soaked to the skin. Not next to a heap of garbage in a dirty alley.

BOOK: Wyoming Lawman
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ads

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