Cowboy of Mine (23 page)

Chapter 16

C
otton
was in her mouth. A hell of a lot of cotton. And maybe mud too.

Meredith almost wretched but forced herself not to, rolling to her side of the ever-moving bed she lay on. God, the bed truly rocked of it’s own accord. She wasn’t just experiencing a really bad hangover. It was a really bad hangover on a train.

“Hey, honey, you okay?”

Meredith refused to answer or open her eyes, but she knew it was Erva trying to soothe her. Cool fingers drifted along her forehead.

“Your face isn’t swollen any longer.”

Meredith might have tried to make a comment, but it came out a groan.

“Is she—is she further hurt? Should we—check for a concussion?” That was obviously Coyote’s urgent voice, half growling, half whispering. Or trying to.

“I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor,” she mumbled through the cotton.

“Need water, honey?” Erva’s voice was sickeningly sweet. Usually, Meredith would have reveled in it. But it felt too syrupy at the moment.

She nodded, making her skull ache.

“Open your eyes, Meredith. I’ve got water here and more ibuprofen.”

“There is a God,” she croaked as she cracked an eyelid partially open.

“Even when she’s not fully awake,” Coyote said, “she’s thinking about me.”

Erva softly giggled. “You’re not full of yourself at all.”

The, ah, god laughed. When Meredith managed to glance around, he was there hovering over her, smiling. His warm large hand swept some of her hair from her forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

“I shouldn’t have drank last night.”

“You drank last night?”

“She had that vodka,” Erva whispered.

“But that was barely enough to get drunk.”

“Look at her, Coyote. She’s an elf. She’s tiny.”

“I am right here,” Meredith interjected, not liking being talked about in her own presence. “And I’m not tiny anymore. I’ve gained a lot of weight.”

“She was thinner before?”

“She was a stick person when I first met her.”

“Again, I am right here,” Meredith groaned.

Coyote softly laughed, carefully caressing her hair. “Such a feisty elf.” He leaned down and kissed the side of her face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Meredith finally lifted on weak elbows, and immediately he swooped behind her, helping prop her up to sit with him taking most of her weight. She complained again as her butt met the much too firm bed. What a literal pain in the ass. She’d fallen so hard on it and moving it today might prove to be a chore.

As Coyote eased her back to rest against his iron-like shoulder, Meredith said, “It was me who was the idiot, chasing after Bruisner. God, I was an idiot.”

“You were defending me when you thought I was hurt.”

She tilted her head to look at him. Warm, warm brown eyes met hers, and he smiled.

“I—I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.” She looked away, noticing Erva hanging clothes here and there, packing others. “I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey,” Coyote argued.

Erva turned quickly. “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t do the self-incriminating thing. However, that being said, I wish you would have waited for me, talked to me about your plan.”

Meredith nodded. She was so unused to having people she could depend on. Even at that moment, as part of her relished the affection and attention, another part of her felt wildly, well, weird. As if she wanted to bolt from it. But she took a deep breath instead.

“How is your wound?” She turned again and looked up into Coyote’s warmth.

“Good. Not even a bruise now.” He leaned away enough to show her his six-pack abs, fingering over a place that might have been where the knife had stabbed him. “I had to shift back to this form to heal. So I’m good as new now.”

“That’s so...” She trailed off. The fact that she knew a man, er, god, who could shift into a coyote was...ineffable.

“Creepy, right?” As much as Coyote jested, almost always wore a smile, Meredith saw that for once it was a tad forced. He might have been a god, but he had insecurities like—like a human.

She reached up and kissed his cheek. “You’re perfect. And I never thanked you for defending me, my honor.”

Erva returned to packing. “You guys never told me the full story of what happened.”

Meredith began retelling the events, but when she’d need to drink more water, which was often, Coyote took over. When Meredith began to relay what had occurred on the train’s top, Coyote embraced her closer while Erva held her hand. Meredith couldn’t remember when she’d felt so...real, valid.

“Asshole,” Coyote grunted when Meredith finished.

Erva shook her head and returned to the luggage. “He probably jumped, they think.”

“Are we close to Butte?” Meredith had to change the subject, too afraid to keep talking about Bruisner.

“Yeah, should be arriving any minute.” Erva turned with a wide smile. “I’ve never traveled by train. But I kind of love it. For the last hour, I felt the train decelerate. How cool is that?”

Meredith softly chuckled at her friend’s enthusiasm for trains.

“And, um, well, you kind of ruined your skirts what with shooting from your pocket.” Erva bit her bottom lip.

“Yeah, where is that gun?” Coyote asked.

“I put it in my purse,” Erva said. “Why? You think I should put it somewhere else?”

Coyote shrugged against Meredith. “Maybe I should hold it.”

“You have to be a dog when we disembark from the train.”

He growled. “I’m not a dog. I’m a coyote.”

Erva held her hands up. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“I see how you two don’t trust me with it anymore,” Meredith said.

Erva giggled and blushed.

Coyote wouldn’t look at her in the eyes, but kept smiling.

“Oh!” Erva lifted a silk taffeta amethyst dress. “I thought you could wear this. It’s too small for me, so it should be perfect on you.”

It was feminine and exotically expensive looking. The sheen on the fabric glinted of silver, pink, and light blue, and Meredith had never seen anything so beautiful. She shook her head, tears instantly pricking in her eyes.

“I couldn’t—”

“Well, sweetie, I think you kind of have to. You didn’t pack much. And you’re skirts are ruined.”

“I can wear my skirts.”

“With the bullet holes and blood on it? No. I—what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Meredith bowed her head, trying to hide the tear that had somehow escaped. She wiped away the moisture with the back of her hand, but Coyote caught her face in his hand and forced her to look at him.

“Meredith, what’s wrong?” His voice was the most soothing whisper. It felt like a warm blanket on her cold body.

“It’s too pretty.” Meredith buried her face into his chest, trying to hide from her embarrassment.

“What did she say?” Erva asked.

Coyote gently held her face again, tipping it up to look at her. “Not nearly pretty enough for you.”

Meredith felt more tears surface at the sentiment.

“But it will do.” Coyote then rocked her, like a comforting father would. “Now, get dressed in the silly thing. I want to see my brave girl shine.”

It was difficult to move around at first. Her body ached and pinged with pain when she stirred. But after a while, her joints loosened, her muscles relaxed, and Meredith gave in to being pampered by Erva, who pinned her hair into a stylish chignon, then helped with her corset.

As she got dressed, and Coyote promised he’d turn his back, Meredith wondered more about her feral upbringing, playing chase in Never-Never Land, and how she’d come to be in a train in 1887 in the beauty that was, er, is Montana. She’d been isolated for so long, and something about how she felt at that moment, like a dirty wild child playing dress up, resonated. But the fact that Erva was willing to forgive her, a god was willing to defend her, Jake...oh, he’d wanted to marry her, made her realize she could rely on people. Erm, she could rely on people and a god. She might always be a little savage, like Montana, but she’d do everything in her power to be a good friend and a good person.

Apparently, Nik had instructed Erva about the Grande Pintlar Hotel in Butte as having the best reputation. As the train slowed to a stop, they made their plans to first unload their things there, then ask about Jake’s whereabouts. And Meredith vowed she’d be so good to Jake, no matter if he wanted her not.

Chapter 17

“
Y
ep
, I know of the name Bruisner,” Sheriff Richard Henderson said, while he sat behind his scared wooden desk at the local dingy Butte jail. He’d drawled the word “yep” making it have nearly seven syllables. The jail itself was giant compared to the one in Plateau with multiple chambers for the inmates, an area for the sheriff and his deputies, and was part of a larger building, probably the courthouse, for the county. Jake had to admit he might be a little jealous of the sheer size of...well, everything Sheriff Henderson was responsible for. Then again—as he heard a few drunks yelling at a prostitute who kept throwing her food at them—smaller might be better, especially more peaceful.

Jake nodded as he sat opposite Henderson, feeling the man size him up, ascertain what kind of lawman Jake was. It was what Jake was doing to Henderson too. Henderson was one of those indiscernible men, as in he could be forty years old or nearer seventy. He could be hard as nails or soft as a kitten. Hiding behind a giant white mustache and blue eyes that never revealed much, Henderson would be the kind of man who could play poker. And win.

He sat quiet for a long moment, then smiled slightly. The only way Jake knew he was smiling was because the skin around the sheriff’s blue eyes crinkled. “I know the name Bruisner. The Chicago fellow that the Mine hires for surveying other mines, right?”

Jake nodded, knowing how here, where copper was transported out at nearly twenty thousand dollars a day, the Mine he referred to was the Butte Mining Company, which sometimes was also called the Company. The titles for the mining company made sense, since it was the largest moneymaking manufacturer in the whole territory. Hell, Jake had heard the Company made more money than anything west of the Mississippi, although he wasn’t sure what the idiom meant in exact terms.

“He done something in your neck of the woods?” Henderson’s drawl seemed to draw out any sentence into a two-hour long speech.

“He’s suspected of following a woman.”

Henderson’s graying bushy brows furrowed. He’d taken his hat off for this meeting, as had Jake. And Henderson had an eerie resemblance to a badger—with harsh black hair and two strips of white through it. And now, the badger bristled.

“Damn,” Henderson whispered. “I worried as much.”

“He ever lurked after a woman here?”

“No—I mean, well...he yells at the whores, calls them names.”

“That Bruisner you talking about, Sheriff?” A reedy feminine voice called out from one of the jail cells.

Most of the inmates were men—miners sleeping off a good time, more than likely. But in one cell, closer to the sheriff’s desk, there were four women with too much rouge on their roughened cheeks, their coaled eyes smeared. Jake always felt immense guilt when faced with a prostitute. Although he’d never paid for one, he always felt responsible for them, wishing he could help them retire, find stability within their community. And because he never had, the remorse sometimes swallowed him whole.

“Yeah,” Henderson yelled over his shoulder. “This here is the new sheriff of a town close to Great Falls. Sorry, what you say the name of it was?”

“Plateau.”

“Mmm.” The woman who had been throwing food suddenly jumped up and raced to the cell’s bars, looking intently at Jake. “He’s got a nice voice. Deep. Where’s Plateau? Maybe I could visit you sometime.”

“Got a woman of my own, miss,” Jake said.

“Oh, too bad.” She pouted.

“Gladys, stop it.” Henderson swiveled his chair a little more her direction, a salt-and-pepper brow arched.

The woman took a step away from the bars, but licked her lips in a way Jake supposed he should have found desirable. But he sighed, feeling the imprint of his broken heart all the more. He didn’t have a woman actually. He had...not a lot.

But he did have a job to do. For now.

“Bruisner pursue you? Mayhap lurk after ye in a threatening way?” Jake asked, noting his voice was rather low, gruff sounding too. It was to cover his unbearable heartache. He really had no clue what he was doing any longer, but he was doing it nonetheless. Mayhap after the talk with the sheriff and prostitutes, he’d get drunk and think of heading somewhere else.

Gladys shook her head, then turned to another prostitute lying on the straw pallet in their cell. “That weasel Bruisner ever chase after you, Phyllis?”

The skinny, dirty woman sat up slightly, shook her head, then turned over, her back to everyone. Over her shoulder, she said, “He called me every name there is though.”

Gladys nodded. “Yeah, he called me bitch and jezebel and cun—”

“All right now, Gladys.” Henderson interrupted.

She smiled, clearly enjoying making the older sheriff uncomfortable. “What? I’m just repeating what the man said.”

“Bruisner ever get violent with you?” Jake asked, trying to get to the point.

She stepped closer to her bars again, her smile still in place and turned upwards more on one corner. “Your woman’s lucky. That’s for sure. You got a nice look on you. Nice, like your voice.”

In the large room there wasn’t much light, and Jake knew there was even less of it around him. He guessed she couldn’t see his scars. Once she did, she’d recoil and probably have a few names she’d call him to boot.

“Gladys, answer the man’s questions.”

“Of course, I will.” She smoothed one of her petticoats down, the rough fabric making scratching noises in the process. Wearing a dark shift and corset and those petticoats, she must have been freezing. There were blankets piled in the cell. Mayhap they were pest infested, Jake wondered, trying to figure out why she wasn’t more clothed.

She smiled, then suddenly lost her grin altogether. “I didn’t recall until just now, but, no, Bruisner’s never been violent to me. But—”

“But?” Jake asked.

She frowned. He saw, even from the distance of fifteen feet away, her eyes were bright green and lucid. As well as suddenly filled with fury. “He never hurt me. But one day the Mine hired a geologist woman. Can you believe a woman can become a geologist? Anyhow, she was here to test the dirt or some such nonsense. She was really nice, actually. She smiled at me. That’s why I remember it so clearly.”

“Gladys, get to the God damned point.” Henderson huffed.

She furrowed her painted eyebrows. “I am. Don’t you understand, Sheriff? A lady like that, being nice to me is—is—well, it’s rare. So I was watching her eat at the hotel she was staying at, wonderin’ about her, when in walks Bruisner. I saw the whole thing from outside the hotel. They wouldn’t let me in without a paying customer.”

“And?” Henderson sounded as though he was losing his patience.

“And Bruisner stood at her table a long time, conversing. He had that smile of his on his fake face. I hate admitting how handsome he is, but he is. But it’s all fake, you know? Too much pomade too. So I’s watchin’ him. He keeps smiling down at the lady eating. She’s getting more and more upset. It’s clear. She put her hands on her lap suddenly, her face all mad like. Then she says something loud to him. I can’t remember all of it, but I remember her face and how she said, ‘how dare you.’ Bruisner said something more. He smiled even wider. Happier. Finally, the barkeep comes over and asks Bruisner to leave. But...”

“But?” Jake asked again.

The woman suddenly turned sad. She shrugged. “I left soon after, and now I recall that Bruisner never did leave the hotel. He was on the street watching her. I heard how the geologist lady left town the next day in a hurry. Someone said she was crying.”

“He hurt her,” the woman on the pallet spoke. Her voice was bereft. Nay, it was dead. There was hardly a shred of emotion as if she were merely parsing about the price of oranges in South Carolina. “Mary was at the hotel with that mayor of ours. Said she heard screaming that night, and Bruisner left the hotel with claw marks on his face. That man hurt her, hurt that little woman geologist.”

“Now, why in the hell didn’t you say anything?” Henderson’s voice was rough.

The woman on the pallet shot up faster than Jake thought she could, and he realized she was much younger than her voice, the sorrow plain in her colorless face and lifeless eyes.

“Like you’d do anything, Sheriff. Like you’d do anything when a woman’s hurt.”

“The hell I wouldn’t.” Sheriff Henderson stood suddenly, holding his red suspenders. “I recollect that geologist woman. I would have protected the lady.”

“The hell you would!” Phyllis yelled. “All you men are alike. You only want one thing from a woman. If you can’t force her to be your whore by making her your wife, you’ll make her another way. That woman was something, you know? She was special. Educated. And all you men want to do is make her a whore. You’ll force her, if she doesn’t bend to your will. And Bruisner was just doing what all of you dream to do. Force a woman to submit, force her to whore herself.”

Jake swallowed.

Perspective. He finally got it after hearing the young woman’s speech. Granted, things weren’t right as rain for him. But he wasn’t that poorly off. He could go back to Meredith and try again.

Sheriff Henderson blustered. But Jake held his palm out to the man. Instantly, everyone quieted. Jake glanced back at the very young Phyllis. She might have barely been six and ten years of age, blonde, pretty blue eyes shrouded in pain and resentment. He didn’t blame her for it. He’d probably had a hell of a lot grander life than she.

“The woman Bruisner lurked after in my area is educated too,” he spoke softly, nodding while he talked. “Very educated. Spirited.”

“He hurt her too?” Phyllis’s voice softened as well.

Jake shook his head and stood. “I’m going to stop him before he does.” He focused on Henderson.

The older sheriff returned to his chair, narrowing his eyes at Jake. “If I see him first?”

“Tell me ifnye do. I need to ask him some questions.”

Henderson glanced over at Phyllis for a second, then down to the floor. He let loose a long sigh, his shoulders stooping. “You’ll be the first to know if he shows his face.”

Phyllis visibly straightened and turned her back once more to everyone. She wrapped her arms around her thin frame, and Jake saw her fingers enveloping around her arms. He’d come back for her, once she served her time for whatever crime she’d done. Whoring wasn’t illegal here. But once Phyllis was done with the jail, he would take her away from Butte. He didn’t have much money, but he’d give her all he had. Help her settle in a nice area, like Plateau, where she would be treated fairly and with decency.

Now that Jake had a plan, the hole in his heart didn’t ache so much. Ah, hell, who was he kidding? It was killing him, Meredith’s rejection. But at least he could do something good in this life he’d been given.