Without Words (23 page)

She’d left the lamp burning low again, and he could see her, awake, sitting up in the bed wide-eyed. Wide-some-damned-shade-of-purple-eyed. And she didn’t have her clothes on. Not that she was naked, no luck there. Some white thing, a woman’s night thing. Because she thought he was going to sleep on the floor.

Except he wasn’t. The floor was hard, the bed was soft, and he was tired. And married. Married enough to sleep in the bed. Right beside her in that white thing.

He made it almost to the bed, tripped over the dog, and fell across the mattress and Hassie’s legs. He’d move in a minute. Right after he rested his eyes a little. The last thing he felt was a tug at one boot.

Sun blazing through the windows woke Bret in the morning. He should have appreciated the rain and gray days more. His head pounded, his mouth was dry and foul, and some instinct told him not to move unless he wanted his stomach to heave. Hassie wasn’t snuggled up against him but sitting in the chair watching him, impossibly clean and fresh and sober in the new pink dress. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes.

His boots were off. So was his hat. He wasn’t crosswise on the bed the way he had fallen last night but properly oriented, head on the pillow. Other than that he was as he’d come in from the cold last night, coat and all.

“I suppose you’re used to dealing with drunks.” He didn’t even look, sure she nodded. “Do you know how many saloons there are in this town?”

This time he rolled his arm enough to see her hold up one hand, all five fingers spread. “If you count that shack on the north end of town, and I did, six. I spent time and money in every blasted one and didn’t find out a thing. I also had to drink in every blasted one. I didn’t realize I was full as a tick until I fell on the bed. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Hassie came and sat on the edge of the bed with the slate.
“I’m fine.”

He stayed quiet a while, debating what to do about both his queasy stomach and full bladder with her in the room.

“What time is it now?” Stupid question. Neither of them carried a watch.

“I think close to noon.”

“Did you get Gunner out all right?”

The chalk pencil twitched in her fingers a little, and her eyes fell, but she nodded.

He closed his eyes and hid behind his arm again. “Do you think you could wait in the hall for a few minutes?”

No feeling of assent came from her, and she didn’t move. He let his arm flop down. “Hassie?”

“I could turn my back.”

“And I could stagger out to the privy, but I probably wouldn’t make it.”

A loud knock sounded on the door. Hassie didn’t move.”

“Mr. Sterling! I know you’re in there, and no matter what shape you’re in, I want to talk to you. I’ve waited long enough.” From his angry voice, one would expect Phineas Vance to be seven feet tall.

Bret reached out and plucked the chalk pencil from Hassie’s loose grasp, set the slate on his stomach. “Let him in.”

She moved at half speed to the door, unlocked it, and stood so that she was behind it when Vance charged in.

“Do you know what your wife did this morning?” Vance sputtered.

Bret heartily wished for a strong enough stomach to take Vance by the collar and launch him out through the window, but since he didn’t have that, said, “No, sir, I don’t. She and I were just about to discuss it.”

“She strutted right through my lobby first thing this morning with that dog. I know you were out until morning or as good as. The whole town knows what you were up to last night, and she had that mangy cur right here in this room. The beast growled at me, growled at me right here in my own hotel, and when I tried to fend it off with a broom, your wife attacked me.”

From behind his arm, Bret tried to imagine Hassie strutting and attacking. Couldn’t. “I don’t believe you.”

Vance’s voice rose to a screech. Bret shuddered.

“You don’t believe me! You, you fornicating sinner, I want you out of my hotel right now.”

“I want my head to stop pounding and my stomach to settle,” Bret said, “but that’s not going to happen for a while yet either. Go away.”

“That dog is a menace.”

“You shouldn’t have threatened my wife.”

“I didn’t threaten her. I threatened it.”

“He probably didn’t like that either, and he’s only a dog. How’s he supposed to figure out who’s being threatened?”

“If he sets foot in this hotel again, I’ll shoot him.”

“If you shoot him, I’ll shoot you.”

“You would shoot a man over a dog?” Vance sounded incredulous.

“Mr. Vance,” Bret said patiently, “right now I’d shoot you over a dust mote. In fact the only thing stopping me from shooting you for the pleasure of it is the fact I’d rather throw you through the window, and I’m not up to it. Why don’t you count your blessings and get out of here?”

Bret came out from behind his arm, fighting another wave of nausea. Vance wasn’t ready to give up until he saw Hassie hurrying to the bed with the wash basin. The door slammed and Bret’s stomach heaved at the same time.

“Go away,” he muttered when he could talk.

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead and brought a damp cloth from the washstand instead.

When he was finally cleaned up and feeling halfway human, he said, “I suppose you’re starving by now.”

She shrugged.

“You could strut through the town, attack someone at the restaurant, and bring food back here.”

“I did not attack him. I took the broom away.”

“I figured it was something like that. Too bad you really didn’t give him a couple of smacks with it while you were at it. You couldn’t find a way to sneak the dog out?”

“There was no time. He needed to....”
Her hand hovered over the slate then waved in the air.

“I sympathize with the immediacy of his needs.”

She laughed. For some reason, getting away from the sound didn’t seem the only way to handle the effect it had on him. Probably because he was still too shaky to flee.

He sat on the bed with his head in his hands. “I can’t go back again tonight, you know. It’s not just that I don’t want to poison myself. The whole town knows why we came here, who I was after and why. Now that the weather’s cleared, if we don’t head out in the direction they pointed us, they’ll start wondering why. Since just knowing I’m in town has them worrying about Doosey, they’ll warn him, and he’ll burrow in deeper. Or run.”

“No one you saw last night would help?”

“There were a couple of drunks who would probably sell out in time, but we don’t have time, not in this town.”

“I can be deaf again. Maybe the general store would be good, and I could get you medicine.”

He lifted his head and studied her. With the raven hair pinned up and the golden glow the sun had brought to her pale face, she looked too good to be strutting around the town unaccompanied. Of course his company wouldn’t be much use to her right now. Still, he didn’t like the thought of her out in a rough, unfriendly town by herself. He didn’t like his own not liking it even more.

Before he untangled his feelings about the whole thing, she fished a few dollars out of his saddlebags and was gone. He moved the chair to the window, sank into it, and watched her cross the street below, the dog at her heels. At least that was something, although you couldn’t count on Gunner. He took notions and wandered off half the time.

The window didn’t let Bret see all the way to the store. He counted the hammering in his head, wishing he did have a watch. Five minutes. He’d count to three hundred and go after her. How long could it take to buy some worthless cure-all?

A knock sounded on the door, and Vance entered without waiting for permission. “Are you feeling well enough to be reasonable now?”

“No.”

“This hotel is my property, and I want you gone. As of right now, you’re trespassing.”

Bret tore his gaze from the window and got to his feet. His head was bad, but his stomach had settled. “We’ll be gone in the morning, first light, and I’ll pay double for tonight. Good enough?”

Vance’s mouth pursed, and he crossed his arms. “No dog.”

Bret almost smiled. With the rain ended and the weather warming, Gunner could stand a night out. Or not. “It’s a deal.”

As soon as the door closed behind Vance, Bret turned back to the window. Still no sign of Hassie. How long could that conversation have taken? Too long. He was down the stairs, across the lobby, and out the door when he saw her coming. Not strutting. She looked demure really in the new dress and hat, but the men she passed turned their heads.

He sagged against a porch post and waited for her to reach him.

“Are you well enough to be up?”

“A little headache. I’m fine.” Sweat broke out on his forehead and down his spine as he said it.

“I have headache powder and other medicine.”

“Good. Let’s get upstairs, and you can tell me about it.”

H
ASSIE WISHED SHE
had something positive to report to Bret, but she didn’t. The people in the store had certainly kept an eye on her, but that could be because they had already judged her as lacking in moral character and thought she would steal. The chances their whispers concerned Robert Doosey and his hiding place had to be much smaller than that they were whispering about her.

She watched Bret swallow the headache powder mixed in the last of the water in the wash pitcher.
“I will get more water.”

“Oh, no, you won’t.” Bret caught her by the arm and pulled her back from the door. “You stay away from Vance. We’re evicted, but I talked him into letting us stay until morning. No dog.”

That wasn’t much of an eviction. Bret had already said staying in town any longer would be counterproductive, and from the hard glint in his eyes, Gunner didn’t have much to worry about. Hassie had a vision of the three of them strutting out through the lobby in the morning and Mr. Vance turning apoplectic.

Over their very late lunch, Hassie persuaded Bret to let her try again at the stables. After all, the stable owner and his friend were the ones who talked about Robert Doosey in front of her before.

Bret brought each of their horses from the corral behind the barn and tied them near where they had worked on the saddles the day before. He cleaned the mud off Jasper and Packie in record time and disappeared with Packie.

Hassie worked slowly over Brownie, currying, brushing. The stable man was on his own today, though. She caught glimpses of him now and then, raking the dirt floor of the barn, moving horses, but no one came to engage him in conversation.

By the time Bret came back, her new pink dress needed washing in spite of the duster she wore over it, and she was ready to give up.

Bret had another idea. “I’m going to put Brownie away too, but I’ll tell him Jasper needs topping off and ask him about trails out of town. Maybe he’ll give some sign that he doesn’t want me going in one particular direction. You watch him too, see if we see the same thing.”

“You’re going to search the mountains?”

“You bet I am. There are a good three hours of light left today, and we’ll ride out in the morning, swing around, and start in again if we have to.”

The pine-covered slopes stretched in every direction around them, and when they’d traveled to this place, every vista showed more of the same. Suddenly Hassie wished she’d never told him about Robert Doosey, but she clutched the slate and pencil to her side and followed him into the barn.

“Guess if you’re scraping mud off them horses you and the missus are ready to leave,” the man said, friendly-like.

Remembering the way he’d talked about her the day before, Hassie didn’t feel friendly. She worked at keeping her face expressionless. After all, she was deaf and couldn’t hear him.

“First thing in the morning,” Bret said. “Right now, I’m going to take my gelding out, run him a little. Keeping him slow enough for my wife’s horse is always a challenge, and after four days’ rest, it will be worse than usual. Got some Thoroughbred in him you know.”

The stable man laughed in agreement. “I know. Your packhorse shows more breeding than that nag of hers. Now that you’re married, you ought to get her something decent. I’ve got a couple I could sell you.”

Bret shook his head ruefully. “Sorry, wish I could, but the Cheyenne killed her whole family. My wife was visiting neighbors, or she’d be dead too. Or worse. That horse is all she has left, and I can’t bring myself to make her trade it off.”

Hassie forgot she was supposed to be watching the stable man and stared at Bret open mouthed. If he kept telling such whoppers, he’d have a reward on
his
head soon.

The stable man gave Hassie a contemplative look. “It’s amazing what a man will do for a woman.”

“It is.” Bret pulled Hassie close, his arm warm around her shoulders. “But they’re worth it, aren’t they?”

Busy rolling a cigarette, the man didn’t answer. Hassie watched him strike a match and light it and suppressed a shudder thinking of the loft above them filled with hay. She was glad Bret had moved their horses out of the barn and into a corral as soon as the rain stopped.

“We saw some pretty country on the way here from the east, and we’re headed south when we leave,” Bret said casually. “What will I find if I ride west? Are there passes over the Divide?”

“Nothing you’ll get to riding for an hour or two, but it will give your horse a workout. Angle a little toward the southwest and you’ll come on some decent open ground where you can let him run.”

Hassie tried not to stare, to look bored as if she couldn’t hear a word and didn’t know what they were talking about.

“What about to the north?” Bret said.

The stable man threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his boot. “Nah, you don’t want to go that way. Country’s so rough you could break a leg on that good horse, and you could even run into a Ute or two. I got to get back to work. We’ll settle up in the morning.”

Bret dropped his arm from her shoulders and carried his saddle out to Jasper. “I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”