Deborah Camp (12 page)

She offered her hand slowly and he grasped it, held on, squeezed gently. But when he should have released her, he wove his fingers between hers and brought their clasped hands up for his examination.

“You know, Dellie, I like this idea of yours.”

“Do you?” She could hardly speak, barely breathe. The simple joining of their hands was somehow erotic, sensual, fantastic. His skin was darker than hers, his fingers longer, the palm of his hand rougher.

“I do believe it’s a mighty fine idea,” he murmured,
drawing her gaze to his just by the provocative purr of his voice. “The best idea you’ve had in years and years.”

She smiled, enjoying his teasing, his touch. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m glad you find it acceptable.”

“I was thinking, Dellie …” He glanced at the ruined shed and the firewood that was piling up from his ax. “Providing kindling is a chore, right?”

She nodded, already seeing where he was headed. “That’s right.”

“So I should get one of your sweet rewards for it, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes, I suppose so. However, you aren’t finished yet. This is only half done. I can’t give a half-kiss, now, can I?”

He pursed his lips. “Yes, you can.”

She shook her head. “No. There is no such thing as half a kiss or half a chore, for that matter.”

“No, you’re wrong, Dellie. I’ve got enough kindling there to fire up the cook stove for the rest of the day and I’ll have the rest chopped and stacked by tomorrow. As for half a kiss, you just stand there and leave it all to me. You don’t have to kiss me back. That’ll make it half a kiss.”

She laughed to relieve the tightening in her chest, the thrumming of her pulse. “Don’t be silly.”

His fingers, still linked with hers, tightened as he pulled her hand forward and around to his back, bringing her breasts against his chest, her lips in line with the swoop of his mouth. His kiss acted on her like a lightning bolt, stunning her into submission, charging her blood while rendering her senseless. He
groaned, the sound filling her head, and she answered with a soft moan. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and she thrust her own tongue into his. Instantly his ardor increased. His free hand cupped her breast, his fingers locating the bud there with ease.

As quickly as he’d struck, he subsided. His mouth lifted from hers and he moved away, letting go of her breast, her hand, her heart and soul.

Adele blinked, clearing her eyesight and her foggy brain. She tasted him on her tongue, felt the sting of his passion on her lips, the blushing tingle of her nipple.

“Did you decide I deserved a whole kiss, after all?” he asked, teasing her.

For a moment she tried to think of something scathing to say, but she decided not to reward him with ire or irritation. She shrugged and released a nonchalant sigh.

“It’s a small price to pay to have that shed torn down. You’re right. It was an eyesore.”

“I do believe I’m going to like being on your payroll.”

She touched a fingertip to the corners of her mouth, trying to tame the smile there. “I hope you prove to be a tireless worker, Reno. I so admire that in a man.”

Her uncharacteristic attempt at ribald humor caused his jaw to drop, giving Adele a sweet reward of her own.

Hours later, when the supper trade was at its peak and every one of Adele’s employees was working frantically to keep up with the orders and impatient customers who were afraid they’d miss their train,
Reno marched in and made a beeline for Adele.

Glancing up from dishes she’d set before a tableful of anxious passengers, Adele was allowed only a few moments to read his expression before he stopped beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Wh-what … ?” Adele sputtered, rendered speechless by mortified shock.

“I swept the floor,” he announced, then stamped her mouth with a hard, soul-shaking kiss. “And I finished carrying in all the supplies Mrs. McDonald needs for tomorrow’s trade.” His mouth claimed hers again, this time passion-tinged and lingering.

Hearing the titters around her, Adele pushed him off, huffing and puffing in the face of his smugness. “How dare you! This is a place of business.”

“Well, I’ve finished my work for today and collected my pay, so I’ll be moseying along.” Reno winked and then gave a jaunty wave to the room at large. “Y’all enjoy your meals and don’t worry about this young lady’s welfare. She’s my wife, and this is how she pays me for the work I do around the place.”

More laughter. More whispers. Adele felt as if her face would burst into flame.

“Get out of here,” she whispered.

Reno bowed from the waist and strode past her and out the door. Adele’s knees wobbled and she gripped the edge of the table to keep herself upright. Somehow she managed to move across the room and around to the other side of the counter, where she busied herself, her back to the patrons. She sliced pie and cake with a vengeance.

“You should have slapped him,” Sally whispered, standing next to her.

“Slapped him? If I’d had a gun, I would have shot him.”

“What was he talking about? You’re paying him for working?”

“After a fashion,” Adele allowed. “I don’t want to go into it now, Sally. Suffice it to say that I think my cleverness has landed me in a sticky situation.”

Sally removed her apron and folded it. “I had the early shift, so I’m off now. It’s six o’clock.”

Adele glanced at the white-faced clock on the wall. “So it is. Go on up to your room and relax. I’ll join you later and fill in the details.”

“Yes, do. But I might go out for a stroll.”

“Be careful,” Adele warned her. “This town isn’t fit for a lady after dark.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sally slid behind her, patted her shoulder, and offered a commiserating smile. “I hope his abominable behavior tonight has opened your eyes to the utter impossibility of this marriage.”

Outside the home of Whistle Stop’s bank president, Reno lit a cheroot and inhaled the biting smoke. He tipped back his head to examine the stars that had come out since he’d arrived at the house two hours ago for a friendly game of poker. It was a revolving game, meeting in the banker’s home one evening and in the back room of the bank later in the week. The game had broken up unusually early, each man full of excuses for the shortened evening of cards and whiskey and inflated stories of heroics and conquests.

Even Ellie Green, the banker’s wife, had been noticeably aloof. Usually she was good-natured and brimming with hospitality. Tonight she had said no
more than ten words to him and had kept her distance.

Reno turned back to the house and saw Paul Green silhouetted in the doorway. “Good night, Paul. See you Friday at the bank. Same time as usual?”

“I can’t make it Friday night, Reno.” Paul came out onto the porch. He was shaped like a barrel, with a round face and bald head. His beard was black and curly and trimmed close. “Sorry, but I promised the wife I’d cut back on the games. She’s become cranky about my spending so much time at the poker table.”

“Has she? But you told me that we meet one night a week in your home at her request. You said she enjoyed the company and our doting on her.”

“Ah yes, so I did.” He scratched at his beard. “Who knows the workings of a woman’s mind?”

Reno smiled and examined the stars again. “Don’t try to play me for a fool, my friend. Tell me the real reason why you’ve decided to shut me out of the game. I deserve the truth.”

For a moment, Reno thought Paul would offer up another lie, but then he dropped his gaze and gave a sigh of defeat.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, but it would be better for everyone if you didn’t come around anymore. Of course, I appreciate your bank business, but anything social, well, it could be uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? Why?”

Paul pulled at his beard, clearly in anguish. “It’s Terrapin,” he said, lowering his voice and glancing around his own front yard, as if he expected to be overheard. “He had a talk with me today and asked me not to continue my friendship with you.”

Reno angled his head back, surprised by Paul’s explanation. “And you’ll end our friendship just because Terrapin asked you to? What’s he got on you, Paul? Why are you afraid of him?”

“Reno, Taylor Terrapin is one man you don’t want to cross. You’ve done both, or so I hear. You’ve made yourself an enemy, which was a damn stupid thing to do. Terrapin’s hired gun—I think his name is Wilhite?”

Reno nodded. “Buck Wilhite. I’ve met him.”

“He told me that Terrapin thinks you’re bad for the town and that anyone who befriends you is bad for the town. He told the others that were here tonight the same thing. It’s a message we can’t ignore, Reno. Terrapin already isn’t pleased about our poker games. He sees it as taking money out of his pocket. I hope there are no hard feelings, but I have a family and a business to protect.”

Reno inhaled on the cheroot and let the smoke escape in a thin stream. “How could he destroy your business or your family?”

“He has his ways, and no one will go against him to stop him. He’s burned people out, and accidents have happened to others who didn’t listen when he gave them advice. He’s the law in Whistle Stop.”

“Not the sheriff?”

Paul gave a harsh laugh. “He owns the sheriff. I tell you, Reno, you’ve stepped in a nest of rattlers. You might ought to apologize to him for whatever you did. He says you tried to shoot him.”

Reno grinned. “If I had tried, he’d be dead. I just wanted his attention and I got it.” Reno rolled the cheroot between his thumb and finger, watching the
end glow in the dark. “He could close your bank?”

“All he’d have to do is open his own, and everyone who had any sense would take their money out of mine and put it in his.”

“He’d do that?”

“He’s threatened before, and I believe him. Look, it’s not so bad. We keep Terrapin happy and he leaves us alone.”

“What if he asked you to kill me? Would you do that to keep him happy?”

Paul made a choking sound. “God, no! I’m not a barbarian, Gold. I’m simply a cautious man. I don’t believe in asking for or buying trouble.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you, Paul,” Reno assured him, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. “I was curious as to where you’d draw the line. You’ll end our friendship by Terrapin’s request but not my life. I suppose I should take some comfort in that.”

“I like you, Reno. I hope you understand the situation I find myself in.”

“I understand. You’re not completely happy with the situation as it stands, are you?”

Paul stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. A frown creased the skin between his eyes, and his mustache drooped. “Can’t say that I am, but there is little anyone can do about it.”

“I wonder.” Reno threw aside the cheroot and clapped a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “I’ll be seeing you, Paul. Thanks for the hospitality.”

Paul grabbed Reno by the arm before he could stride away. “You’re not going to do anything crazy, are you? Don’t try to go up against Terrapin. He’s a dangerous individual, Reno. Several men who opposed
him are dead or have mysteriously disappeared.”

Reno grinned. “Paul, I survived Deadwood, North Dakota, when I was still wet behind the ears, so I reckon I can deal with Terrapin and his one-eyed assassin.”

Paul nodded. “You’ve proved yourself to be a lucky son of a gun, that’s for sure.”

With a low chuckle Reno left Paul and swung up on the wheat-colored mare he’d borrowed from Adele. He clucked his mount into a sedate walk and headed for the depot. Night creatures sang to him with squeaky chirps and deep-throated calls. The stars seemed to press down, and he felt as if his hat was skimming them.

Beautiful, he thought, and Dellie’s face appeared before his mind’s eye. Yes, she was beautiful to him, with her darkly lustrous hair and glittering green eyes. Even when she was fussing at him, he found himself admiring the bright spots of color in her cheeks and the grit in her voice. Oddly enough, he was having the best and worst time of his life.

Best because he was getting to know Dellie again and delighting in teasing her and stealing kisses from her. Worst because she kept herself from him while he ached to take her to bed and lose himself in the smell of her, the feel of her, the very core of her.

Nights were unbearable unless he drank enough whiskey to numb his mind. Knowing she was in the next room was a sore temptation. His patience was nearly expended. He couldn’t be sure anymore that he could continue with his campaign to win her affections. Each time he held her now he felt his resolve
crack. He had never wanted a woman more keenly, and she had made him realize that he didn’t have an iron grip on his self-control. One night, he knew, he would not be able to remain in his bed. One night even whiskey would not keep him from her.

Ahead, in the hazy light of the moon, Reno saw a woman rushing toward a man who stood under the shelter of the depot platform. Reno reined his horse into the black shadows of a hickory and watched, trying to see which of Adele’s waitresses was meeting a secret paramour. The man embraced the woman and held her for a few moments before moving back to smooth his hands over her hair. The woman was petite. The man was slim and neatly dressed.

Reno narrowed his eyes, his senses sharpening. Terrapin? Yes, it was Taylor Terrapin, cavorting with one of Dellie’s waitresses. Not Doris McDonald. This woman was too small. Good God! Reno held his breath for a moment, his pulse booming in his ears. Of course, he should have known.

Sally Baldridge.

Stifling the chuckle that tickled his throat, Reno shook his head slowly in sardonic amusement. Sally the hypocrite. He should have guessed immediately.

So she had taken up with the town bully. More important to Sally, she’d caught the eye of the richest man in Whistle Stop. That is, the richest man before Reno had taken up residence there. Reno had no doubt that if Sally knew how much he was worth, she’d do an about-face and become his new best friend. She’d been a gold digger as a girl, and age and misfortune had only deepened her desire to be the most admired and respected belle of the ball. Like her
new beau, she related admiration and respect to money, not to character.