Her Sheriff Bodyguard (6 page)

Chapter Eight

T
he stage pulled up in front of the Excelsior Hotel, on what Hawk would loosely call the main street of the thriving little town of Oakridge. It looked a lot like Smoke River, except there were more storefronts and the boardwalk was wider. Fernanda reached for the coach door, but he laid a restraining hand on her arm.

“I'll go first.”

“But you are wounded,
señor
!”

Gently he dislodged Caroline's head from where it lolled against his shoulder and hefted his rifle in his other hand. He hated like anything to disturb her; feeling her body sag against him was the best thing that had happened on this whole miserable trip. But, he thought with regret, he guessed this little patch of peace in the middle of a crazy night had to end.

“Stay put until I come for you.” He swung the door open and planted his boots on the ground.

The hotel was lit up like a Christmas tree, light glowing from every window, even from the rooms way up on the top floor. That's where he wanted to be, he decided, up high so he could see both sides of the street.

Jingo began unloading Caroline's trunk, and Overby stumbled down off his perch on the driver's bench and lurched unsteadily down the street toward the Red Rooster Saloon. Hawk waited until Jingo set the trunk inside the hotel foyer, then motioned him to wait and tossed him his Winchester.

“Keep the ladies company. I'll just step into the hotel and get a room.”

“Take yer time, Hawk. One of these ladies is real purty.”

Hawk halted midstride. “Hands off,” he snapped.

Jingo's bushy eyebrows rose. “You claimin' them both?”

“Hell, yes, you randy old buzzard.” He strode up the wooden steps with Jingo's half-admiring laughter in his ears.

He had to push the wiry desk clerk a bit and let his vest flap open to show his badge, but he secured a room on the third floor. He waited while the desk clerk and a lanky kid lugged the trunk up the three flights of stairs and by that time he had to admit he was feeling light-headed. He needed food, whiskey and some sleep, in that order.

Once inside the tiny hotel room, Fernanda had other ideas. “You do not go one step outside without I fix your arm.” Caroline added a soft Please, and that changed his mind about his priorities right quick.

Fernanda insisted on removing his shirt and washing his flesh wound before she would set foot outside the hotel room door. Caroline, he noticed, turned away the instant his chest was bared.

“Ladies,” Hawk said as Fernanda bandaged his arm, “I hear fiddle music. Seems like there's some kind of fandango going on here tonight. How about I buy us all a steak dinner to take some of the sting out of the last ten hours?”

Caroline's stomach was rumbling so loud it embarrassed her. She brushed the dust off her bombazine travel suit and followed Fernanda down to the dining room. Apparently the party was in the adjoining ballroom because the restaurant was deserted except for an overweight man at the table nearest the entrance.

He looked up, then stood and surveyed them with hard blue eyes. To her astonishment, as they approached Hawk touched his hat brim with two fingers. “Will,” he said quietly.

“Hawk,” the large man replied. “Haven't seen you in a while.”

“Don't get this far north very often.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Hawk guided Fernanda and Caroline past the man to a table at the back of the room.

“What brings you this time?” the man queried.

Hawk seated them at a round cloth-covered table, then removed his hat and folded himself into the third chair. “Nursemaiding,” he said blandly.

Fernanda laughed, but Caroline's hands turned into fists in her lap.

“Yeah?” The man called Will gave them a slow once-over with his pale eyes. “That what you call it? Looks more like—”

“Button it, Paine,” Hawk cut in.

The man's blond eyebrows rose. “You gonna introduce me?”

“Nope. What are you doing here, anyway?”

Paine settled back onto his chair. “Big wingding in town tonight. Mayor's daughter got herself engaged. I'm here to keep the peace.”

Caroline stared at Hawk. “This man, Will, is a lawman?” she whispered. “Why, he doesn't even wear a badge.”

Hawk drew her attention away by tapping his forefinger on the menu. “Order me a steak,” he said. “I'll be right back.” He stood and crossed the room to Will's table, spun the chair backward and straddled it. The two men bent their heads together and spoke so quietly she couldn't understand a word.

When Hawk returned, his eyes were narrowed and his mouth was pressed into an unsmiling line. Fernanda patted his hand. “You fight with your friend,
señor
?”

“He's not exactly a friend,” Hawk growled. “We rode together some years back.”

“You do not like each other no more?”

“Oh, we like each other well enough. It's just that he's too damn busy with the mayor's daughter to escort you on to Idaho.”

“And you wish he would,” Caroline said quietly. “Because you do not want to.” She could not blame him one bit. He'd risked his life, endured a bullet wound and was obviously disgusted with her cause. And her. But even so, she wanted...

What did she want?

She wanted to feel safe, protected by this man. She was a little in awe of him, even a little fluttery deep inside when he looked at her. She liked being near him.

But of course he would want to return to his home in Smoke River.

“Are you married?” she blurted out.

He settled his green eyes on hers and in their depths she saw an unnerving combination of pain and hunger. “Was once. She was killed.” Then the curtain dropped over his expression, shutting her out.

For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, Caroline could think of nothing to say.

“Got any more questions?” He signaled for the waitress.

She shook her head, feeling her color rise.

“Good, because I've got a couple. First, what the hell are you doing this speech stuff for?”

“I told you, I am campaigning to give women the vote.”

“No, I mean
why
are you doing this? Why are you risking your life to make speeches?”

Caroline exchanged a look with Fernanda. She could evade the question. Prevaricate, or just plain lie. Or she could tell him the truth. Before she could open her mouth, he spoke again.

“I know your father bullied your mother,” he said. “You explained that in your speech at the church in Gillette Springs. Is that it?”

“N-no. At least that's not all of it.” Under the high collar of her blue dress she felt her throat close.

The waitress approached, pad and pencil in her hand. Rivera ordered steak, rare. Fernanda ordered the same. Caroline couldn't make a sound.

“You hungry?” he murmured.

She nodded, her cheeks burning.

“She'll have a steak, medium rare. And some...tea?”

Again she nodded. Fernanda touched her hand. “
Hija
, you do not need to answer the questions. Does she,
señor
?”

Hawk shook his head. “No, she doesn't. Everyone's got a right to a private life.”

“Even you,
señor
,” Fernanda pointed out with a twinkle in her black eyes. “But you will tell us why you look angry when you talk to Mr. Paine?”

Hawk blew out a long breath. “I want—wanted—Will Paine to take you on to Idaho.”

“And he cannot,” Fernanda pressed. “So you are angry with him. And that is because?”

Hawk couldn't begin to answer that question. Because he wanted to go back to Smoke River, back to peace and quiet in the little town he'd sought out to heal the festering wound in his soul. Because he didn't want to be responsible ever again for someone that meant anything to him.

Aw, hell, why not admit it. Because he didn't want to see Caroline get hurt.

Supper didn't improve his outlook. The steak was fork-tender, the apple pie was succulent and the coffee hot and strong, but still everything seemed wrong. Out of kilter. He'd lugged his saddlebag with him into the hotel, but inside he had only one clean shirt and a pair of drawers, plus three boxes of cartridges and a hunk of jerky. If he was gonna spend another night sleeping in the same room with Caroline and Fernanda, he needed a bath and some clean clothes.

They hadn't objected to sharing the room with him last night, but tonight he was dirtier and sweatier and so tired that rolling himself up in a quilt and sleeping on the floor in front of the door held less appeal, especially when a nice soft bed sat just six feet away.

Both Caroline and Fernanda had been quiet throughout the meal, Fernanda absorbed in her steak and Caroline because she couldn't seem to relax. She fiddled with her knife, her fork, her teacup, even the buttons on her blue dress. Maybe she was uneasy about the sleeping arrangements? She hadn't seemed to mind his presence last night in Gillette Springs, but she'd just had the spit scared out of her by that note.

Or maybe she was scared about tomorrow. She was making another damned speech at ten o'clock, this time at some ladies' auxiliary hall down the street from the hotel. He drank the last of his coffee and studied her face.

Hell, she looked nervous already. At the church the other night she'd looked cool and composed right up until she got that note. Now she looked like she had a case of stage fright so bad it would freeze up Sarah Bernhardt.

He wanted to know why. Why did she persist when she was clearly frightened? He wanted to know a lot of things. Women were so unexplainable it was a wonder a man ever got close enough to marry one.

The sound of guitars and banjos and a violin drifted from the ballroom. Then a low thump sounded, and Will Paine got up and went off to “keep order,” Hawk guessed. When he heard another thump and then a pistol shot, his first impulse was to back the man up. But his second impulse was stronger: sit tight and make sure no one got within striking distance of the two females under his care.

Another pistol shot went off, and Caroline jumped and hissed air into her lungs. He looked at her face and swore under his breath. She'd turned another pasty shade of white.

“You about ready to turn in?”

She was out of her chair before he could set his coffee cup down. He tossed bills onto the table, tore after her and caught her at the doorway.

“Wait up,” he ordered. “You don't go anywhere without me, remember?”

Caroline halted. “Oh. I was in such a hurry I forgot.” Well, no, she hadn't forgotten, exactly. It was just that she could not sit still when a gunshot sounded, even with Hawk Rivera at her elbow.

Oh, Mama, were you this frightened? How strong and calm you always seemed
.

And her mother had not had Hawk Rivera protecting her. She wondered if it would have made a difference.

He took her arm and kept her close at his side, so close she could feel his chest move in and out with each breath. For one insane moment she wanted to turn into his arms and press her face to his chest, listen to his heartbeat. While her own pulse was ragged, she was sure his would be strong and steady.

She shook herself out of the thought and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. The dance music grew fainter as they climbed the three sets of stairs up to the hotel room. When he unlocked the door, Fernanda marched inside, spun, and pointed to Hawk's dusty leather saddlebag in the corner.

“You have clean clothes?”

“Yeah. What I've got on me could stand up all by themselves.”

“Then take them off. I go find a basin to wash.”

“No.” He blocked the doorway. “I'll have a bathtub sent up, one for you and Caroline, and another for me and my clothes.”

“Ah, no,
señor
. Is not proper.”

“Proper! Hell, I haven't let either one of you out of my sight for two solid days, what's ‘proper' got to do with it?”

Fernanda set her hands on her hips. “Is not proper for a man to wash his own clothes.”

“
Señora
, I've been a bachelor for twelve years. That's a lot of laundry.”

“And no woman, eh?”

“No woman.”

Caroline ducked her head to hide the smile she couldn't hold back. No woman.
No woman
.

Oh, for pity's sake what was wrong with her? She didn't care if he had a dozen women, which he no doubt had, looking the way he did. A more ruggedly handsome man she had never seen.

And a more foolish girl you have never met
. She and Hawk Rivera were as different as horses and cheese.

“Go, then,” Fernanda said to him. “Tell them to bring soap, also. Pretty smelling.”

Hawk groaned, and Caroline tamped down an unexpected spurt of laughter.

Four giggling Mexican hotel maids hauled in the two bathtubs and filled them with buckets of steaming water. Hawk discreetly withdrew to the hallway, where he walked up and down, listening to the feminine squeals and laughter floating out of the room. God, a woman sure liked to splash around in a tub of water.

He tried to keep his mind on the pattern in the carpet under his feet, on the rose-flowered wallpaper covering the walls, on anything but Caroline's slim body naked in a bathtub.

Didn't work. When Fernanda summoned him with a whispered “Your turn,
señor
,” he was hard as Texas granite.

Inside, Caroline was drying her long hair with a towel while Fernanda soused some garments up and down in their used bathwater. Small garments. She had strung up a makeshift clothesline with a length of grocery string, and when she started hanging up the wet clothes he noted what they were: lacy camisoles. Pantalets with ruffles. Two petticoats and a corset cover with an embroidered rosebud in the center. His hard-on got a lot harder.