Anita Mills (25 page)

He was waiting in the lobby when she came down. At the top of the stairs, she paused, suddenly self-conscious. She must surely look naked. Adjusting the black lace mantilla about her bare shoulders, she took a deep breath, then descended slowly.

He looked up, and for once in his life, he betrayed his thoughts in his face. She was beautiful, far more beautiful than any of the painted ladies of his acquaintance. As his eyes took in her knotted hair, her pale-skin, her slender, almost statuesque figure, and the exquisite green gown, his mouth was too dry for words. The taffeta swished seductively with each step. A slow, decidedly appreciative smile formed on his lips.

She negotiated the final stairstep carefully, trying not to show more than the toes of her old, black high-top shoes. As her eyes met his, she fought the urge to wipe her damp palms on her skirt. She forced an answering smile.

“You look—” He was almost at a loss for words. “You look magnificent, Rena,” he said softly.

“For a moment, I thought you were going to say cold,” she murmured.

“Believe me, cold was the last thing that would’ve come to mind,” he assured her.

“I feel positively indecent.” Aware that several gentlemen were staring her way, she fought the urge to flee back up the stairs. “Matthew—”

“That dress makes your eyes look almost green.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to thank you for it, didn’t I?” she managed.

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, no—That is, yes, of course I like it, but I cannot imagine how you came to find it.”

“I was trying to replace the one you ruined on the train. The fellow at the desk sent me to a place called Felicia’s, where I found it would take a week to make up anything,” he explained. “We had a little language problem, and she thought I was leaving because I didn’t like the quality of her work, and—well, the long and short of it is, she brought out that dress to show me what she could do. I gather she’d made it for somebody else, but I didn’t realize it then. I told her I’d take it.”

“You bought somebody else’s dress?”

“Yeah. At first,
Señora
Felicia wasn’t having any of it, but I just kept peeling off dollar bills until she gave in.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Didn’t your mama teach you not to ask the price of gifts?” he countered.

“Well, it was more than the ten dollars I asked for, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Quite a lot?”

“Some. Come on,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’m starving for a decent meal.”

“How much is some?” she persisted. “You’re making me feel guilty for wearing it.”

“I wanted to buy it, Rena.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. Probably because it’ll be like you said—you’ll sell the farm and go home to Pennsylvania to teach. I don’t figure you’ll have much chance of buying yourself something like this. You’ll spend your life being practical.”

“Yes, but—”

“A woman ought to have something pretty every now and then,” he said, cutting her off. As a doorman held the door, Matt stood aside to let her go first. “If you don’t mind too much, I thought we’d maybe walk along the river first.”

“I thought you were starving.”

“I am, but I sort of wanted to show you off first,” he admitted. “Besides, while you were taking your nap, I got out and walked around some. There’s some pretty places in San Antonio.” He stopped to offer his arm again. “The evening’s young, Rena. I thought maybe we’d look around a little, eat supper, then I’d get you back here early enough that you’d get a good night’s rest before you leave tomorrow.”

His arm felt strong, steady beneath her hand. But this was the last time they’d be walking like this, talking like this. She felt a pang of panic at the thought.

“I imagine there are card games in San Angelo, Matt.” Even as she said it, she felt incredibly bold.

“Yeah.”

There wasn’t much encouragement in one word. “What are you really going to do?” she asked suddenly.

“I don’t know.”

That was about as noncommital an answer as she could get. “Oh.”

“I’m not the kind of man that sticks around, Rena,” he said abruptly. “I’m not what you need.”

“I wasn’t asking for me, Matt. I was just asking.”

“I was just telling. You sell that farm and get yourself back to Pennsylvania where you belong.”

“I intend to. If I don’t encounter those men again, I’ll be on the first mail wagon back after the place is sold.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. You know, they could’ve had you mistaken for somebody else. Maybe they just got the wrong name.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you all along?” she countered. “The notion that I have anything anybody would want is downright ludicrous.”

“Except the obvious.”

“I hardly think anybody named Gib would want to kill me for that.”

“Doesn’t seem like it, anyway.”

He’d been struggling with himself ever since he’d arrived in San Antonio, telling himself that she’d be all right, and he wanted to believe it. He could feel better that way. And right now he didn’t need any encumberances. Right now he couldn’t afford any. And neither could she. The last thing on earth she needed was to fall for somebody like him.

“It’s a pretty river, Matt.”

“Yeah.”

“It has so many bends and curves, and it just flashes like gold in the sunlight, silver in the shadows, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Stopping in the shade of a tree, he looked across the water. “It’s slow and sleepy, kind of like the town.” When he turned to her, the shadows of the leaves were playing on her face, while the lowering sun caught the gold in her chestnut hair. And she was looking at him with those pretty hazel eyes. For a moment, he forgot who he was, and where he was going. Reaching out, he brushed back an errant strand of hair with his fingertips. “God, Rena—” He caught himself. “No,” he said almost forcefully. “I can’t go—I just can’t.”

“I know.”

“Men and women don’t make very good friends, you know.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re men and women. It always turns into something else. Then when that’s over, there isn’t anything left. I like you, Rena. I’d kind of like to keep it that way.”

“I didn’t know I was throwing myself at you. I certainly didn’t think I was, anyway.”

“You aren’t. I’m just trying to explain things to you, that’s all.”

“Like why you bought this dress?”

“I don’t know why I bought the dress—honest to God, I don’t. I guess I just wanted you to have something nice, maybe something to remember me by.”

“Matt—”

“What?”

“I don’t know many men. I never did. But I just want you to know that despite all the barbs and hateful things I’ve said, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’d like to think maybe we’re different, that maybe we’ll stay friendly somehow. Maybe someday you’ll get to Philadelphia.”

“Philadelphia’s a big place, Rena.”

“I live—” No, that wasn’t going to help. When she got back, she was going to have to find another place to stay. “Well, I don’t guess it matters, does it?”

“No. I probably won’t get there, anyway.”

“No, of course not.”

“Ready to eat?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. There’s a real nice place not too far from the Menger. Fellow at the desk says the food’s good, so I thought we’d try it out. I’m still wanting to buy you that steak.”

“All right.”

The walk back was a quiet one, with neither of them saying much. Finally, when she couldn’t stand it any longer, she blurted out, “Why can’t you come with me?”

All the glib words of his life disappeared, and for once he decided to tell her the truth. “You guessed right in the beginning.” He tried to smile and couldn’t. “I’ve got to lay low.” Not daring to look into those eyes again, he studied a pretty Spanish house on the other side of the street. “I’m a wanted man, Rena.” When he couldn’t help himself, he met her sober gaze. “So now you know. I guess you can run screaming for the law.”

“I think I’ve known all along,” she said quietly.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do you still feel like eating with me?”

Her hand tightened on his arm as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to know what you’re wanted for, Matt. No matter what it is, I still believe you’re a good man. I wouldn’t be standing here without you.”

“Well, at least that makes us even.” He took a deep breath, then exhaled it fully. “I guess I’m ready for that steak.”

“So am I.”

The eating establishment was small, but there were white linen cloths and individual oil lamps on every table. All the business was conducted in Spanish. Finally, after much gesturing and haggling in a combination of pigden English and pigden Spanish, an order was arrived at. As the server left, Matt leaned back against the whitewashed adobe wall.

“I guess only God knows what we’ll be eating.”

“As long as I can cut it with a knife and fork, I won’t complain,” she promised.

“Hungry?”

“Yes.” Looking around to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard, she hesitated, then leaned across the table. “What happens if you are caught?” she dared to ask him.

“I’ll go back, stand trial, and hang.”

“Oh. Well, then I can see why you don’t want to be caught.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it your fault?”

“If it was, do you think I’d tell you?” he countered.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think so, anyway.”

“I never met a guilty man who didn’t claim to be innocent, Rena.”

“No, I don’t suppose anyone wants to hang.”

“No.”

Suddenly, he didn’t want her to think the worst of him. “But for what it’s worth, whether you believe me of not, it was self-defense. So, now that that’s behind us, I’d like to spend your last night in San Antone talking about something else.”

The yellow flame glowed steadily in the lantern’s chimney, casting a long shadow over Matt McCready’s face, giving him a sinister appearance. But maybe because she wanted it to be so, she reached across the table to clasp his warm fingers in hers.

“There are a lot of things wrong with you, Matt McCready, but being a murderer isn’t one of them.”

Before Matt could respond, the server returned with a bottle of burgundy wine and two silver goblets. “For the
señora
—for the
señor
,” he murmured, pouring the dark red wine. Smiling broadly, he waited for them to taste it. Verena eyed hers with misgiving, but Matthew took a goodly swallow.

“It’s good. You ought to try it.”

“That’s what you said at Brassfield’s,” she reminded him. “And that’s what you said last night, too.”

“Yeah, but you’re eating with it. You probably drank the other down too fast. You want to digest it slowly right along with the food, then it doesn’t hit you so hard.”

“If I get sick, I won’t catch the stage tomorrow, and then I’ll miss the mail wagon. If that happens, I’ll have to wait another three days for the next one.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

She stared in fascination as he drained his goblet, then refilled it. “Doesn’t it ever bother you?”

“Not anymore. I guess I’m used to it.”

She looked at the dark liquid for a long moment, then sighed. “Well, I don’t suppose a little would hurt, would it?”

“No.”

As she lifted the cup, she looked over the rim, and her blood turned to ice. Gulping down a large swallow, she kicked McCready under the table with the toe of her shoe. “Look,” she whispered, “over there.”

“Over where?”

“Shhh. Over there—behind you.” As she spoke, she slid down in her chair, trying to shrink into the shadows. When he didn’t move, she kept her voice low and even. “We saw him at Sheriff Goode’s.”

Matt nodded. “I’ll take a look in a minute.”

He didn’t have to. The tall blond man walked past him to sit at a nearby table. As he passed Verena, he lifted his hat slightly in acknowledgment. She sat up, knowing that it didn’t make any difference now. He’d already seen her.

“It’s probably a coincidence,” Matt murmured.

But the man sat there, staring at Verena. “I don’t think so.” Needing courage, she took another gulp.

“Whoa now. You’d better wait for food before you finish that off.” Leaning forward until his head was but inches from hers, Matt asked, “Are you sure you can’t place him?”

“Just at Goode’s.”

“Look, maybe it’s the dress. Maybe he can’t take his eyes off the dress.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You want to go back to the hotel?”

“And be followed? No. I want to outwait him.”

“He’s a handsome fellow,” he allowed.

Another thought occurred to her. “What if he’s after you instead of me?”

“Then he’d be a ranger, and he looks pretty clean to be one, as near as I can tell. Rangers usually look worse than the outlaws they’re chasing.”

As abruptly as he’d arrived, the tall, blond fellow stood up, came over to their table, tipped his hat again, and then walked slowly out the door. Verena sat as still as if she’d turned to stone until he was gone.

“Now there’s a man who doesn’t like to wait for his dinner,” Matt said lightly.

The food, when it came, was excellent, the best she’d eaten since she left home. The meat could be cut with a fork, the peas were actually green, the potatoes were parsleyed with butter, and the bread was still warm from the oven. The only thing that told her she was in Texas was the ubiquitous rice with chopped peppers. As the meal wore on, she found herself having a second glass of wine.

As the tension passed, Matt leaned back, watching her. The gold embroidery on her dress sparkled as she moved, and the lamplight seemed to reflect off the gold specks in her hazel eyes. After the last bite of her steak, she wiped her mouth daintily, then looked across at him.

“I expect you think I’m somewhat of a pig for eating all of it,” she murmured.

“Pig doesn’t even come close,” he said softly. “I was thinking you are one fine-looking woman, Miss Verena.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fright or cold. She leaned forward and held her chin, watching him dreamily. He was, to her way of thinking, one fine-looking man.