chair, a cup of hot coffee before him, and rolled himself a
cigarette.
"Would you like to partake?" he asked. The way
his eyes twinkled made her realize he still remembered her long-ago experiment.
How could a man like him remember anything so inconsequential? She wondered,
again, what his life had been these past years. She shook her head in response
to his question. "No thanks. I think I learned my lesson."
He puffed on the cigarette. The scent of sweet tobacco
mixed with the strong aroma of brewed coffee were warm familiar smells, home smells. They brought back, with the force of a stampede, all that she had lost.
Her chest ached with unshed tears--tears that had not fallen since she awoke in
Mrs. Beale’s home and learned of her family’s deaths.
McLowry began telling her about Bisbee, little nonsense tales
that didn’t make much sense and held even less interest to her. Slowly, as he
talked, she pulled herself together. And as his tales continued, her interest
grew until she found herself listening and with enjoyment.
o0o
After supper, they returned to the hotel. As McLowry
opened the door to the room he shared with Gabe, he acknowledged that he had
been purposely putting off thinking about their sleeping arrangements.
She was just a girl, he told himself for the tenth time
that day, a kid who was grieving over her family’s death, and who needed to
realize that she couldn’t avenge their killers. He had to convince her that
going after Will Tanner was simply too dangerous. He hoped that after a little
while of this revenge idea, she would be so homesick she’d be willing to run
back to Jackson without a horse.
"I’ll sleep on the floor," Gabe announced. Her
words surprised him. Obviously, her concerns mirrored his own.
"That’s all right," he said, feeling gallant.
"You take the bed."
"The floor’s fine," she insisted dismissively.
"It’ll be a whole lot better than the ground I’ve been using."
He could scarcely believe her arguing with him. "I
said no."
"You paid for this room, McLowry. I won’t put you out
of your bed." Her words broached no argument.
"And I," he stated in an equally matter-of-fact
tone, "won’t let a girl sleep on the floor."
She crossed the room and picked up her bedroll. "Then
I’m leaving."
"Wait a minute! You are the most stubborn
child."
"I’m not a child, so you can stop bossing me and feeling
responsible for me. I’ll see you in the morning." She marched toward the
door, hand outstretched for the knob.
"Stop! We can work this out."
Her mouth curved into a frown, but she waited.
"We’ll split the bed." He didn’t bother to
mention that if he was lucky at the saloon tonight and found the warm comfort
of a mature woman’s bed, she would end up with this one all to herself anyway.
But instead of her agreeing to his sensible terms, he
watched her face redden from the roots of her hairline to the neckline of her
shirt. Her back stiffened up straighter than a fence post. "I may not look
like a lady, but I know what’s proper between men and women. I’ll sleep on the
floor or outside. Take your pick."
It took a moment for him to even realize what had gotten
her so riled up. Cold fury struck him that this scrawny slip of a girl, wearing
men’s clothes, her hair chopped off like a boy’s, would dare talk to him about
what’s proper. "You think I’d--" He couldn’t even say it. He waved
his arm in the direction of the bed. "Damnation! Believe me, your virtue
is safe with me. What do you think I am?" He took a step toward her, then
stopped, realizing that would only make the situation worse. "I swear if
you aren’t the most troublesome girl I ever tried to do a good turn for! I
should have left you on that mountain!"
"Maybe you should have!" Her cheeks flamed.
He glared at her. "Sleep on the blasted floor, then.
But you’ll stay in this room where it’s safe and warm. Do you hear me?"
She didn’t answer, but began opening and shutting dresser
drawers.
cigarette.
"Would you like to partake?" he asked. The way
his eyes twinkled made her realize he still remembered her long-ago experiment.
How could a man like him remember anything so inconsequential? She wondered,
again, what his life had been these past years. She shook her head in response
to his question. "No thanks. I think I learned my lesson."
He puffed on the cigarette. The scent of sweet tobacco
mixed with the strong aroma of brewed coffee were warm familiar smells, home smells. They brought back, with the force of a stampede, all that she had lost.
Her chest ached with unshed tears--tears that had not fallen since she awoke in
Mrs. Beale’s home and learned of her family’s deaths.
McLowry began telling her about Bisbee, little nonsense tales
that didn’t make much sense and held even less interest to her. Slowly, as he
talked, she pulled herself together. And as his tales continued, her interest
grew until she found herself listening and with enjoyment.
o0o
After supper, they returned to the hotel. As McLowry
opened the door to the room he shared with Gabe, he acknowledged that he had
been purposely putting off thinking about their sleeping arrangements.
She was just a girl, he told himself for the tenth time
that day, a kid who was grieving over her family’s death, and who needed to
realize that she couldn’t avenge their killers. He had to convince her that
going after Will Tanner was simply too dangerous. He hoped that after a little
while of this revenge idea, she would be so homesick she’d be willing to run
back to Jackson without a horse.
"I’ll sleep on the floor," Gabe announced. Her
words surprised him. Obviously, her concerns mirrored his own.
"That’s all right," he said, feeling gallant.
"You take the bed."
"The floor’s fine," she insisted dismissively.
"It’ll be a whole lot better than the ground I’ve been using."
He could scarcely believe her arguing with him. "I
said no."
"You paid for this room, McLowry. I won’t put you out
of your bed." Her words broached no argument.
"And I," he stated in an equally matter-of-fact
tone, "won’t let a girl sleep on the floor."
She crossed the room and picked up her bedroll. "Then
I’m leaving."
"Wait a minute! You are the most stubborn
child."
"I’m not a child, so you can stop bossing me and feeling
responsible for me. I’ll see you in the morning." She marched toward the
door, hand outstretched for the knob.
"Stop! We can work this out."
Her mouth curved into a frown, but she waited.
"We’ll split the bed." He didn’t bother to
mention that if he was lucky at the saloon tonight and found the warm comfort
of a mature woman’s bed, she would end up with this one all to herself anyway.
But instead of her agreeing to his sensible terms, he
watched her face redden from the roots of her hairline to the neckline of her
shirt. Her back stiffened up straighter than a fence post. "I may not look
like a lady, but I know what’s proper between men and women. I’ll sleep on the
floor or outside. Take your pick."
It took a moment for him to even realize what had gotten
her so riled up. Cold fury struck him that this scrawny slip of a girl, wearing
men’s clothes, her hair chopped off like a boy’s, would dare talk to him about
what’s proper. "You think I’d--" He couldn’t even say it. He waved
his arm in the direction of the bed. "Damnation! Believe me, your virtue
is safe with me. What do you think I am?" He took a step toward her, then
stopped, realizing that would only make the situation worse. "I swear if
you aren’t the most troublesome girl I ever tried to do a good turn for! I
should have left you on that mountain!"
"Maybe you should have!" Her cheeks flamed.
He glared at her. "Sleep on the blasted floor, then.
But you’ll stay in this room where it’s safe and warm. Do you hear me?"
She didn’t answer, but began opening and shutting dresser
drawers.
Similar Books
