Deborah Camp (18 page)

Adele nodded. “Yes. She found you quite exotic.”

“Exotic?” He laughed, a low, purring sound. “I’ve never been called
that
before.”

“Your mixed bloodlines intrigued Mama. She was especially taken by the Gypsy in you. She met a band
of Gypsies once and found them intoxicating.” Adele partook of more wine. “You’re right. This does enhance the taste of the food. And it’s not much stronger than fruit juice.”

His smile lured the timid deer inside her further into the clearing. “Did you find me the least bit exotic back then?”

“Yes, of course. You were the wild spirit among us. We never knew what to make of you or what you would do or say next. Winston said your family were the black sheep of the Baldridge flock. Your father married your mother amid furious protests, Win said.”

“Yes, but my father and his brothers were all renegades. They were raised to be independent thinkers. My grandfather married a dusky-skinned Gypsy, and they raised their children to follow divergent paths.”

“Then why did they protest when your father wanted to marry an Indian?”

“They didn’t like her because she had already had two husbands. My grandmother was superstitious and she was afraid my mother was cursed and that every man she married would suffer an early death. But my father is still alive, so the curse must be broken.” He buttered another roll for himself. “Winston’s branch of the family wouldn’t have had anything to do with us if we hadn’t owned so much land and had success at farming.”

“Your family still has the farm?”

“Yes, and my cousins on my mother’s side have a large spread out by Guthrie. I was visiting them when I saw your advertisement in the Territorial newspaper.”

“And you thought I’d gone mad.”

“No, but I couldn’t imagine why you would need to advertise for a husband, so I decided to find out what kind of trouble you’d landed in.”

“You wrote that you’d been trying your luck at prospecting. When I read that, I wondered what kind of trouble
you’d
landed in.”

His smile was veiled, secretive. Standing, he went to the restaurant counter and lifted the lid from a box there, producing the sweet notes of a waltz. Turning toward her, he held out his hand as he approached.

“Would you dance with me, Dellie?”

“Dance?” She rested a hand on her throat, where a pulse fluttered like a bird’s wing. “I never expected this!”

“I recall that you were the most graceful dancer I’d ever seen. You moved as light as a feather. I always wanted to dance with you.”

“But you never asked.”

“I was afraid you’d refuse or I’d make a fool of myself by stepping on your toes. Will you accept my invitation, Dellie, now that I’ve found the courage to ask?”

She placed her hand in his. “I’d be delighted, Mr. Gold.”

They moved to the center of the floor. He had pushed the tables and chairs to one end, creating a space for them, Adele noticed, touched by his forethought. Moonlight spilled through the windows, its white light mingling with the golden glow of the candles and transforming the restaurant into a romantic sanctum. She recognized the music as the same tune that his pocket watch played.

“I take it you are fond of this Nocturne.”

“Yes. It touches something inside me. As you do.” His free hand curved at her waist.

Looking up into his eyes, the timid creature inside her advanced fully into the clearing and trembled at its own courage. She moved closer to him and followed his lead, her feet moving of their own volition while the rest of her body thrilled at the intimate press of his.

He had underestimated himself, for he had no peer on the dance floor. As straight-backed and lithe as a cat, he guided her in flowing steps and sweeping turns, his gaze never wavering from hers. Excitement built within Adele as she watched his eyes change from blue-gray to dark blue, and she sensed the quickening of his pulse to match hers. Something was in the air. Something that quivered and sparked like a lightning charge. Her breath shortened and warmth flooded her breasts, her neck, her face. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and bury her hands in his thick mane of hair. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, his mouth on her skin.

So this is lust, Adele thought disjointedly. Oh, it was incredible!

“Dellie,” he whispered, his voice rough and magical, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. The only reason I tolerated Win and his other friends was so that I could be near you.”

She thrilled at the confession, but couldn’t form any words of her own. Her heart pounded in her throat.

“And I never got you out of my mind. Did you ever think of me, Dellie? Did my name ever cross your mind?”

Her lips moved, but she could make no sound. She swallowed and forced her tongue to work, but before she could answer him, she was distracted by movement outside the windows. So was Reno. They both turned toward the disturbance at the same moment.

Men on horseback—Adele counted two—sped by the windows. She thought she knew one of them, perhaps both. “Is that Yancy and—”

Noise erupted all around them. Choking off the rest, Adele stared dumbly at the wine bottle, which had exploded in a shower of glass, spilling its contents onto the white tablecloth. Before she could comprehend what had happened, the rest of the world erupted in a volley of gunfire, shattering glass and splintering wood. Adele screamed. Reno clutched her shoulders and slung her to the floor. Bullets whizzed over her head, and the acrid smell of spent gunpowder burned her nose.

Fear coated her mouth with a coppery taste, and her head ached with the reverberating sound of the gunshots. Then it was quiet, save for the drip, drip, drip of the wine and the tinkle of falling glass. Reno lay on top of her so heavily that he squeezed the breath from her.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Get off me, please.” When Reno didn’t move, she did, shrugging and twisting out from under him. His body slid off hers, unnaturally limp.

“Reno?” On her hands and knees, she looked at him. He lay sprawled on his stomach, his face turned away from her. “Reno?” Grabbing him by the shoulder, she pulled him onto his back. He was pale, his dark lashes creating crescents against his skin. “Reno,
this isn’t funny.” She patted his cheek and he didn’t even flinch. “Reno!”

Colleen and Helen burst into the restaurant. The glow of the lanterns they carried revealed their frightened expressions. From beneath their nightgowns and robes their bare feet flashed.

“Be careful!” Adele shouted. “There’s glass everywhere.”

Both women slid to a halt and stared at the glittering floor.

“Are you hurt?” Helen asked.

“What happened?” Colleen demanded.

Doris McDonald came puffing in behind them. She’d thought to stick her feet into leather slippers. “God Almighty, did somebody get drunk and mistake our windows for empty whiskey bottles?”

“No mistake,” Adele said, patting Reno’s cheeks again and getting no response. She ran her hands over his clothes, searching for wounds. “Reno’s hurt.”

“Did he get shot?” Helen asked.

“I don’t know.” Panic skittered through Adele as she bent over him. “Reno, please. Open your eyes.” She pressed her ear to his chest, and for a few moments heard only her own heartbeat. Was he dead?

“No, no, Reno.” A sob tore at her throat and a black, ominous cloud moved across her vision. For an instant she thought she might faint from the sheer terror of losing him. “Reno, please don’t leave me,” she whispered in his ear, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her heart seemed to cave in on itself.

Then he moaned.

“He’s alive!” she shouted, sitting up to beam at the women. “Thank God, he’s alive.”

“Why, sure he is,” Mrs. McDonald said, squatting beside her. “Looks like he’s getting a bump on his head.” She indicated a swelling above his ear. “Probably hit his noggin when he dove for cover.”

“Of course. I was afraid he’d—” Adele realized how she must look to the others, cradling Reno’s head in her lap, her face streaked with tears and her voice shivering with fear. She strove for composure and grappled with the numbing realization that her feelings for Reno Gold surpassed infatuation and ran deeper than lust.

Mrs. McDonald reached toward the table for a glass of water. With no warning she tossed the liquid into Reno’s face. He gasped and sputtered.

“Mrs. McDonald!” Adele flung out her hands and stared at her wet lap. “Was that really called for?”

“I thought you wanted him awake.” The no-nonsense woman peered into Reno’s bleary eyes. “Hey there, you know your name, partner?”

“Gold,” Reno said, his voice sounding like a bullfrog’s croak.

“How about me. Do you know me?”

Reno squinted at her. “Mrs. McDonald.”

“He seems to have his wits about him.”

“Dellie?” Reno’s voice rose to near panic.

“I’m here,” Adele assured him. He relaxed when he saw her face above him. “I’m all right. Everyone is safe.”

“My head,” he said, groaning.

“You hit it against something. Can you stand?” Adele looked toward Helen and Colleen. “Open the door to my quarters. Mrs. McDonald, will you help me get him to the bed, please?”

“Sure. That’s the best place for him. You two go put on some shoes,” Mrs. McDonald told the other two women. “After we get him settled, we’ll clean up the glass. Good thing tomorrow’s Sunday. We can use the day off to board up the windows until glass can be ordered and put in. Did you see who did this?”

“I’m not sure. Everything happened so fast. I thought I recognized them, but …” Adele shook her head, unwilling to share her impressions with anyone yet, in case she might be wrong. “Reno, can you help us get your legs under you?”

With Mrs. McDonald assisting her, Adele managed to steer Reno into her parlor. When she would have stopped there and let him fall onto his cot, Mrs. McDonald veered toward Adele’s bedroom. Adele started to protest, then thought better of it. After all, Reno had received a hard bump on the head and needed a soft bed, at least for tonight.

They backed him up to her bed, and Mrs. McDonald held him steady while Adele turned down the spread and sheet. Then she let him go, and he fell like fresh-cut timber. Mrs. McDonald swept her palms against each other in satisfaction.

“Let’s get his boots off him, then I’ll leave the rest to you.”

“The rest?”

The older woman looked at Adele with a cagey squint. “The rest of his clothes.”

“Ah, well, he can sleep in those.”

“In a suit?” Mrs. McDonald frowned. “You want him to sleep in his Sunday best?”

Adele smiled sheepishly. “Well, tomorrow is Sunday.” She felt her color heighten under the woman’s
scrutiny. “You want me to undress him?” Mrs. McDonald offered. “Won’t bother me. He’s got nothing I haven’t seen before on lots of other men.”

“I believe that would be best,” Adele said, already retreating from the room. “I’ll be out here in the parlor.”

“He’s got a cut on his head and it’s bleeding.”

“I’ll fetch a basin of water and bandages,” Adele said, seizing the opportunity to leave Mrs. McDonald to her task.

Helen and Colleen were sweeping up glass when she entered the restaurant. Adele waved off their anxious expressions.

“He’ll be fine. He’s woozy from hitting his head. I’m going to clean the cut.”

“Should we fetch the sheriff?” Colleen asked.

“Why?” Adele asked. “Oh, you think he’d catch the men who shot out our windows? Not likely. Don’t you think someone heard the shots and the shouting? Do you see any of them here to help us?” She didn’t wait for answers she already knew, but went into the kitchen for a shallow bowl of hot water, clean strips of cloth, and a tube of ointment she used for cuts, scrapes, and burns. When she joined the others again, Helen was peeking out the front door.

“What’s going on?” Adele asked.

“Here comes somebody. It’s a buggy, letting somebody off.” Helen gasped. “Why, it’s Mrs. Sally!”

Adele had stopped at the table that she and Reno had shared. She turned toward the door just as Sally crossed the threshold. Sally’s color was high, but Adele couldn’t determine if she was elated or afraid.

“Was anyone hurt?” Sally asked, glancing around
at the destruction but not seeming very surprised.

“Reno received a bump on the head,” Adele related. “He threw me to the floor and then dove for cover. It’s a wonder we weren’t killed. We were standing right here when those men started shooting.”

“I’m sure they weren’t aiming at you. They didn’t mean to kill anyone.”

“How do you know that?” Adele challenged her.

“I don’t know it. I only presume it,” Sally said. “They were probably drunk.”

“How did you hear about it?”

“I … Someone in town told me. You know how news travels. People heard the shots, saw the riders.” Sally shrugged. “As long as no one was hurt—”

“I told you, Reno was hurt.”

“But I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe the incident knocked some sense into him.” Sally’s smile was tight and false.

Adele approached her, carefully studying her and finding her more a stranger than a friend. “Sally, what do you know about this? Where were you tonight?”

Sally flinched as if Adele had struck her. “Just what are you implying? I was in town, as I told you.”

“I want to believe you. I want very much to believe you.” Aware of the other two women, who had fallen still and quiet and were carefully watching her and Sally, Adele curbed her tongue. If she had been alone with Sally, she could have been brutally blunt, but she had to remember that she was the manager of the restaurant and that called for some decorum. “Who brought you home tonight?”

“You know who,” Sally said, her voice tight.

“I suppose he had nothing to do with what happened here tonight either.”

“If you had been the least bit civil to him, he would be rounding up those men right now and taking them to the sheriff. He could be a valuable friend, Dellie. But you won’t give one inch, so why should he go out of his way to help you?”

“I’m not asking for his help,” Adele shot back. “I came close to being shot tonight, Sally. Do you understand that?”

Sally’s mouth dipped at the corners and her shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t stand to see you harmed. You must know that.” She reached out and grasped Adele’s hand. “But think about what happened tonight. Think about the consequences of foolish actions.”