Wild At Heart (3 page)

Fancy Feathers pulled a lace hankie from the cuff of her sleeve and discreetly held it to her nose as she stared out the window. The cowboy had reeked of body odor and cows when he’d stood. Adam considered offering to swap seats but figured the man wouldn’t want to move again.

Adam’s gaze drifted to the right. Soft wisps of light brown hair had pulled free from Fancy Feathers’s oval face, making her look young and innocent. She couldn’t be much older than twenty. Her navy travel suit was wrinkled and dusty. A pretty gal like her shouldn’t be traveling alone. How far had she journeyed? Was she going home or perhaps visiting someone?

“Been traveling long?” The words were out before he could rein them in.

“Pardon me?” Her coffee-brown eyes darted in his direction.

His stomach flip-flopped. He hadn’t realized how pretty she was until she lowered her hankie and turned her full attention on him. He cleared his throat. “I said, have you been traveling long?”

She nodded, looking a bit suspicious of him. “A few days.”

I’m harmless
, he wanted to say. His drawing hand tingled. He didn’t encounter many women of her caliber around Medora. He must have stared too long, trying to memorize her features until he was free to sit down with his paper and pencil, because she blushed and looked out the window again, the lace hankie firmly hiding all of her face except those expressive eyes.

Mariah tried not to squirm under the man’s steady gaze. She refocused on the boring landscape, hoping he’d get the idea that she didn’t want to talk. At least the flat farmland had given way to some hills now and then.

Out of the corner of her eye, she peeked across the aisle. Given a different time and circumstances, she might have liked getting to know the handsome man, but she’d recently sworn off men. His tanned complexion made her wonder if he was a rancher or farmer, though he currently resembled neither. His gray Western suit perfectly fit his broad shoulders and blended well with his black hair and boots. Vivid blue eyes emanated kindness and curiosity, and he was mannerly enough not to force her into conversing.

At least she no longer had to avoid the lascivious stares of the smelly cowboy, although she preferred that to his sitting so close to her. She needed to make sure that she included more scents in her stories. Men out west tended to be less tidy and not as worried about daily ablutions as easterners. Why… oh my… the cowboy even had something greenish-brown smeared across his boots.

Oh dear.
She tugged her skirts away, but the boot edged closer.

Except for appearance, the cowboy’s arrogant behavior reminded her of Silas. The day after the writers’ banquet, he’d come to her house saying that she’d imagined he and Amelia kissing and blamed her for ruining the evening. He insisted she take the ring back and stop her silliness. How had the situation become her fault?

Now that she’d finally seen Silas for the snake he was, she wanted nothing to do with him. Grandma had invited her sister for an extended visit and encouraged Mariah to go west for a while. Mariah just hadn’t expected things to be so different out here.

Sharp needle pricks jabbed her left arm, which ached from being crushed up against the window frame for so long. She tried to straighten it without moving any closer to her unwanted seatmate. The train started a wide turn to the left, and the cowboy leaned even nearer. When he slid over another inch, Mariah’s heart lurched.

She’d had an escort all the way from Chicago to Bismarck, but Mrs. Hannady got off there to visit her daughter’s family. With less than a half day’s train ride to Medora, her companion felt that Mariah would be fine alone, as long as she avoided talking to men. Now she was surrounded by them.

She turned her head to see if there were any other free seats and encountered the cowboy’s whiskery face. A slow grin tilted his lips, revealing yellowed teeth, with one eyetooth missing.

“The name’s Mitchell Sparks, ma’am. Where’re you headed?”

His foul breath washed over Mariah, making her stomach churn. She longed to shove her handkerchief in front of her nose again but didn’t want to appear rude.

“I would appreciate if you’d move over a little, Mr. Sparks.”

His eyes twinkled, and he grinned fully. “Be happy to oblige.”

He slid even closer—if that was possible. Mariah’s heart lodged in her throat, but she couldn’t resist mentally capturing every detail she was experiencing so she could recreate them in her stories. A writer simply must take full advantage of every situation that presented itself. Still, she couldn’t allow his impropriety to continue. She narrowed her eyes. “Please scoot over
the other way
, sir.”

“I’m fine right here. In fact, little darlin’, you can sit on my lap if’n you’ve a hankerin’ to.”

Mariah gasped.

Irritation simmered.

She simply could not put up with such insolence—and if he didn’t slide over soon, she feared she’d faint from his foul odor. The handsome man across from her leaned forward as if he might come to her aid, but she was quite able to defend herself. She reached up with her partially numb left hand, extracted a hatpin, and shifted it to her right fist. The handsome man’s blue eyes widened, and he shook his head. He opened his mouth the same second she jabbed the pin in the cowboy’s thigh.

“Ow! What the—” The cowboy jerked and held his leg. He stared unbelievingly at her with catlike amber eyes. Quickly, surprise turned to anger. He lifted his left arm, as if he were going to backhand her. Mariah raised her arm and prepared for the slap.

Would she ever learn to think before acting?

Adam fired off the bench like a bullet out of a pistol, grabbing the cowboy’s fist before he could punch the woman. Years of wrangling ornery cattle made wrestling the cowpoke off her bench and onto his a simple chore. He shoved the cowboy down. “Now you just sit there and behave.”

The man jumped up and glared at Adam, his loose fingers lingering dangerously above the pistol on his hip. He took a quick glance around the crowded car then flopped down, arms crossed. Leaning against the side of the railcar, he placed his legs on the seat, kicking Adam’s new hat onto the floor. Taking up the whole bench, he crossed his arms and gave Adam a satisfied smirk.

Adam took the vacated seat, being careful not to get too close to the hairpin-wielding woman. He picked up his hat, dusted it off, and laid it in his lap. Keeping his eye on the cowboy, he couldn’t help wondering how such a prissy greenhorn gal could have the gumption she’d just displayed. Her hands were empty now, but she’d snatched that spike from her bonnet faster than he could draw his revolver. His body slowly relaxed with the action over. He couldn’t wait to get back home and away from all these crazy folks. Not that he’d be staying home for long.

A scent of something flowery drifted his way every time his seatmate moved, mixing with the pungent odor of coal smoke and many sweaty bodies in a confined space. She turned her head, looking out the window, and that pesky feather tickled his nose.

Great. Just great. He swatted at it as if it were an annoying fly then scooted toward the aisle.

Suddenly, the woman turned to face him. “Thank you for your assistance, sir.”

With her face so close, he could see a pale smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. His tongue seemed as tied up as a calf in a roping contest. “Uh… you’re welcome, ma’am.”

Her cheeks turned an appealing rose color; then she shifted toward the window, leaving her sweet scent behind. Adam pondered asking her where she was headed. Was she perhaps a mail-order bride?

He nearly laughed out loud. What weapons would she pull on her unsuspecting spouse when he irritated her? Throw hard biscuits at him in a fit of rage? Perhaps she’d sling her rolling pin at the poor man? Adam chuckled at that thought, receiving curious glances from both the cowboy and Fancy Feathers. He glared at the man but flashed a grin her way.

Her dark brown eyes widened, and then she turned away again. Adam hunkered down in the seat, arms crossed, ready to have this trip over. What would Quinn say when he told him he’d soon be leaving the Rocking M?

Probably be happy. Adam couldn’t work hard enough to please his competent, slave-driving brother. Quinn didn’t need him there, what with all the ranch hands. He doubted he’d even be missed—except by the womenfolk. Besides, after what he’d done, he didn’t deserve to live on the Rocking M.

Mariah massaged the crick in her neck that she’d gotten from keeping her face turned toward the window. It was the only way to avoid the gawking cowboy. She felt relieved when the handsome man had come to her rescue but was disturbed by his closeness. What had he been laughing at? Was it her?

She hadn’t minded traveling alone when Mrs. Hannady disembarked in Bismarck, but now she understood a woman’s need for protection in the West. Things out here were far different than in Chicago. Manners and propriety were rules few seemed to care about past the Mississippi River, and she never dreamed the odors could be so overpowering.

Dabbing her perfumed lace handkerchief below her nose, she covertly studied the man who came to her aid. Though probably only in his early twenties, he had a commanding presence and encountered no difficulty in overpowering the discourteous man, who seemed familiar somehow.

Suddenly she sat up straighter. The uncouth cowboy reminded her of Snake Slaughter, the vile villain in one of her stories. All he was missing was the jagged scar on his left cheek. He noticed her stare, and his seething gaze sent shivers up her spine. Would this trip ever be over?

She longed to see a forest, river, or hills. That flat North Dakota prairie lay open as far as the eye could see, but once in a while, they’d pass some odd round-top hills that resembled dinner rolls rising in a pan more than landscape. The steep hills and pretty trees near Bismarck had been a pleasant diversion after the boring eastern prairie.

Mariah yawned. Every part of her body ached, and she longed for a hot bath and soft bed. Leaning her head against the warm glass, she watched the patterns made by the coal smoke as the train veered to the right.

She wondered if Mr. McFarland had received the telegram she’d sent saying she was coming. Would he meet her at the train? She imagined he must be older—perhaps a widower with several children—since his mother lived with him. What would he say when he discovered she was a woman? There simply hadn’t been time to write and wait for a letter back from him. After Silas’s fiasco, she couldn’t leave town soon enough.

Her eyes drooped, and she yawned. She didn’t want to sleep again, but there was little else to do. The gently swaying railcar rocked her into a limp, relaxed state.

Mariah jumped at a loud noise and realized she’d fallen asleep. She’d dreamed of a train robbery and glanced down to make sure her reticule was still snuggly wrapped around her wrist.

“Nobody move—unless you want to get shot.”

Jerking her head up, Mariah stared at a masked man at the front of the car, pointing a gun in her direction.

Her nightmare had become reality.

Now wide awake, Mariah clutched her reticule against her chest. Her mouth went dry, and her whole body trembled. Women screamed. A baby wailed.