"Not quite yet, hon."

  "Hm?"

  "I need to stoke the fire and add some more wood. You're going to have to let me up."

  Minnie poked him in the ribs and said, "A gentleman does not disturb a lady's sleep."

  "Now, Minnie," Art said with a tease in his voice. "Did I ever tell you I was a gentleman?"

  Art carefully shifted her so she was sitting with her back against the wall. He added the last of their wood to the fire, and the flickering dance of the flames reflected off of his hair until it smoldered golden-red in the night.

  When he returned to her side, he brought her stockings and shoes, as well as her now-dry jacket. Then he stepped closer to the fire and tugged his own boots on while she pulled up her stockings. The hint of a memory of how those stockings came off lapped at the edge of her mind, but she couldn't quite grab onto it. Nevertheless, that hint was enough to heat her face. Minnie had difficulty making eye contact as she lifted her face and asked, "Arty, can you help me with my shoes, please? I'm not sure I can get them buttoned."

  "Of course," he said, his voice smooth as warm molasses. He methodically put her shoe on and buttoned it for her. As he lifted her other foot, his hand seemed to caress it.

  Shivers of long-forgotten excitement raced up her ankle and leg.

  He studied Minnie as he finished buttoning her shoe. "You're all set now." His voice was huskier than Minnie remembered, and his eyes blazed golden fire.

  Minnie stared, unable to break the eye contact. "Th-thank you, Arty."

  The corners of his lips lifted in a smile, but it was different somehow. It wasn't the goofy grin he sometimes gave whenever he was trying to put her at ease. Neither was it the somber smile he used when they were talking about something serious. This one was… seductive, and it sent a buzz of anticipation moving through her, settling into her belly, a kaleidoscope of vibrant dancing butterflies.

  Art settled in next to her on the blanket. Without thought, she snuggled in next to his side, instinctively wanting to draw on his body heat. "Do we need the jackets?" she asked.

  "Not yet, but I wanted to have them close so I won't have to disturb you later if the fire doesn't last 'til morning," he replied.

  Still drowsy but not quite ready to fall back to sleep, Minnie said, "Tell me about Mutiny."

  "You want to know about my horse, huh?" Minnie nodded against his side, and he began the tale. "A couple years back, before Sheriff Spooner stepped down, the Territorial Marshall came through town. His name was Chase. Always struck me funny because his job was chasing criminals."

  "Was that his first name?"

  "Nah, that was his last name. Never did learn his first name. Anyhow, he was chasing an escaped fugitive. He believed the man was trying to hide out among the Nez Perce tribe, but he didn't know the area all that well. Sheriff Spooner sent me along to escort him through the mountains."

  Minnie enjoyed listening to Art. The timbre of his voice put her at ease and made her feel special, even when he was talking about something that had nothing to do with her.

  "In any event," he continued, "we got over there and met with some of the Nez Perce. They're nice folk. Marshall Chase told me he didn't need me anymore and sent me packing. Guess I kind of got on his nerves, young as I was. New to the job, too, and a touch too eager. As I was getting ready to head back toward home, I saw a herd of horseflesh. Best looking horses you ever did see. Talked real nice-like to the fella keeping an eye on them, and he told me I'd have to talk to someone else if I wanted a horse."

  Art let out a guffaw. "It took a day and a half of pleading, wheedling, and promising to take better care of the beast than I took of my wife before they would consider letting me have one."

  "Your wife, huh?"

  "Well, my future wife."

  "Are you going to tell your future wife this story? It might be good for her to know where she rates in your priorities." While it was too dark for anyone to see, Minnie couldn't help the smile that touched her face and lightened her heart.

  "Yeah, well, some deals are too good to pass up." Art let out an oomph as Minnie poked him in the ribs.

  "Pray, sir, please continue your tale," she said, a playful lilt to her voice.

  "I thought I'd have to give up the horse I already had, everything I had packed in my saddlebags, all my cash, and maybe even the clothes I was wearing in order to secure me one of their horses. It ended up going a little different than I planned."

  Art stopped talking, and Minnie asked, "What happened?"

  "You ever spend much time around the Indians?"

  "No."

  "They don't see things the way the rest of us do. I don't know if it's the same with other tribes, but that's how it was with the Nez Perce. Payment was expected for the horse, but I don't think they would have ever taken my money if they didn't think he'd be well tended. They wanted to make sure I'd take good care of this animal God had created."

  "Really?"

  "They didn't call Him God, exactly, but that's how it seemed to me. Anyway, when it was time to pick out my horse, I had one in mind, but the man in charge of the herd told me I couldn't choose, that the horse had to pick me. So I stepped into the middle of the herd and stood there waiting. A couple horses bumped into me, some kept a wide berth. Mutiny strutted up to me proud as you please and tried to take a bite out of my hat."

  "So Mutiny chose you."

  "That's what they told me. To this day, I'm not sure if that's the way they do things or if they were all having one over on the poor white boy from over the mountains. Still, I wouldn't go back and change any of it. Mutiny's the best horse I've ever had."

  "Better than a wife?" she asked, drowsiness softening the edges of her words.

  "Hey, I didn't say that. I merely said I'd treat him better than I treat my wife. Give me some credit."

  "He looks funny," she said, her voice beginning to fade back into slumber.

  "Mutiny's an Appaloosa, a special kind of horse. Gives him his spotted markings."

  "Hm," was all Minnie could muster as sleep began to cloud her mind.

  "Rest tight, sweetheart. You're safe with me."

  She wasn't sure if Art had said the words or if she'd imagined them, but in the end it didn't matter. They stayed with her into her dreams, a warm and comforting caress.

  ****

  Art was loath to wake her again, but he needed to check on her at least one more time before sunup. She'd been pretty cognizant the last time, but he couldn't take chances. Not with her.

  "Minnie, you need to wake up."

  "Come on, Arty, let me sleep."

  "Not gonna happen, sweetheart. You need to wake up."

  A poke to his ribs told him she was at least listening to him. "I have some important questions to ask, and I need you to answer them, okay?"

  "Hmph."

  He hated to trick her, but he hoped that by asking his questions while she was half-awake, he could get her to answer without filtering the truth to reveal only what she thought she ought to say.

  "Where did William get the money to gamble if he wasn't working?"

  "Sometimes he took it from me. Sometimes he did other things."

  "What kinds of other things?"

  "Why are you asking this now, Arty?" So much for catching her unaware. Any pretense of sleep had fallen from her voice.

  "It's on my mind, and I wanted to ask while I was thinking about it."

  "I don't know everything he did, but I'm sure it wasn't legal. At first I thought he was doing well at the tables and that's where his money came from. I finally got suspicious and followed him one day not too long before he was killed. He met with a man, the one I already told you about."

  "Could you overhear anything they said, maybe what they were arguing about?"

  Arty felt Minnie shake her head no before she answered, "I caught parts of words here and there, although not much more than syllables. I couldn't make any sense of it."

  "Do you recall any of it?"

  Minnie again shook her head. "I can't remember now, but when I got back home that day, I wrote down what I thought I heard. I'm sure I still have it somewhere."

  "Did you ever tell the police about this?"

  "It never came up," she answered evasively.

  "Minnie." His voice, though kind, brooked no argument. "Why didn't you tell them?"

  She pushed herself up into a sitting position and stared him in the face. "Arty, I didn't know who I could trust. The man I saw him with was familiar, but I couldn't figure out where from. And I needed evidence. Anything I said to the police without evidence would make me look guiltier, as if I were trying to shift the blame. I was afraid they'd think I was trying to throw suspicion elsewhere to keep them from looking at me."

  "The truth is usually the best way to handle things when you're dealing with the law."

  "It might be that way in Larkspur, Arty, with you as the law. In San Francisco, it's different. People aren't always after the truth, and I couldn't risk saying things that might make me look guiltier than I already did. If I could have puzzled out who the man was, I might have said something."

  "Do you trust Detective Wilcox?"

  Minnie shrugged, "I think so. He doesn't give me a bad feeling. However, he does have a job to do, and his job is to put someone in prison for William's murder."

  "Even if it's the wrong person?"

  "I don't want to believe that, but Arty, if you could have seen William's body, or the way the officers sneered at me as I entered our tenement and found them all there. It was too much. And I'd worked for the paper long enough to know how much corruption there was in the city. How was I supposed to know who I could trust? I made some bad choices along the way, but I had to protect myself."

  "Maybe you should trust God," he said, keeping his voice low.

  "Oh, Arty. I wish it was that simple."

  "When did you stop trusting Him?"

  "I never stopped trusting Him, honest. But I did decide to own up to my own mistakes and misdeeds. Somewhere along the way, I got so used to taking responsibility that I kind of pushed God into a back corner. It wasn't on purpose."

  "Mayhap it's time to take him out of the corner?"

  "Ever since I woke up and realized I'd been rescued, I've been wondering. The buggy went over, and I thought it was one more way God was punishing me for the things I'd done wrong. Then I woke up, and you were there, and I knew I was safe, and I've been asking myself why."

  "Why you felt safe?"

  "No. Why did God save me? Why did He save me when He didn't save William?"

  "I don't know, Minnie, but I'm glad He did."

  "It's the first time in a long time that I've wondered what God was up to."

  "Maybe that's a good thing," Art said.

  "I'm not saying I'm going to be singing in the church choir anytime soon," Minnie said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  "Considering the church doesn't have a choir…" he let the words trail off as he stared into the emerald depths of her eyes and felt himself tripping dangerously close to the edge. One more step, maybe two – how was he supposed to know how many it would take – and he would be too in love with her to ever turn back. That thought didn't scare him the way he thought it should. She'd been through a lot. Whoever won her heart would need to be patient. A certainty he couldn't define settled into Art's chest. Patience was something he had in abundance.

  Minnie blinked slowly, a look of wonder on her face. Then she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and winced in the process. Moving to a different topic, she asked, "How long do you think until daybreak?"

  "I expect it's about two or three in the morning. Daylight should come in another four hours or so." He was sorry to see their conversation drift back to something so ordinary.

  "We'll head out at first light?"

  "I think that's best."

  Minnie inspected the small cabin they'd shared for the night and said, "Thank you for coming after me and for getting me to safety."

  Tipping an imaginary hat, he said, "Simply doin' my job, miss."

  She settled in against his chest this time, rather than his side and said, "I think I'll get some more rest before morning."

  Art brought his arms up around her and said, "I need to ask a favor."

  "Whatever you want, Arty."

  Temptation burned through his veins. If she had any idea what was on his mind, she wouldn't be so free with her words. Tamping down the desire that had flared to life, he said, "Once we're around other people, you're going to need to act as if you're more injured than you feel."

  Minnie pulled away from him until she could peer up into his face. "Why would you want me to lie?"

  He frowned and said, "I'm not comfortable asking it, and when you put it that way, it makes it sound even worse. The truth isn't always easy to swallow, though. If we get back into town and you're fit as a fiddle, people are going to have a big problem with us having spent an entire night together unchaperoned. On the other hand, if people believe you were incoherent the entire time, then it shouldn't be so bad."

  "I guess you don't want a shotgun wedding, huh?" Her eyes moved away from his face, but not before he saw the flash of hurt in them.

  Tipping her chin up with his finger, he waited for her to again look at him before saying, "Wilhelmina Abigail Drake, I would wed you in a heartbeat if I thought that was the best thing for you. People have been forced into marriage for a lot less than what we've done here tonight, though, sweetheart, and the stigma of forced marriage lingers far into the future. I don't want that for you, especially so close on the heel of William's death."

  Minnie stretched up and gave William a soft kiss on the cheek. Curling herself back into position resting against his chest, she said, "You're not so bad either, Arty Paulson."

  With a chuckle, Art pulled Minnie's jacket up to cover her form. When his hands encountered her hair, he couldn't resist. He let the silken locks run through his fingers before he put his arms around Minnie and held her close.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sun came up, and Art again woke Minnie. She'd half expected someone to find them in the cabin before they had a chance to leave. When that didn't happen, she was relieved. Despite the briefness of their interlude at the cabin, she wanted to hold onto the feeling of being alone there with Art.

  Something about spending that time with him had mended some of the broken hopes and dreams she'd been carrying around. The way he spoke to her, the way he treated her… in a lot of ways it was what she'd expected to have with William. It was how she'd always pictured husbands and wives treating each other.

  She felt her ears heat at the thought and tried to blink away the image of her and Art as husband and wife. He deserved a lot better than her.

  Art made sure the fire was out. Then he saddled Mutiny and mounted. Reaching down, he easily lifted Minnie, settling her into the saddle in front of him. "Remember what I said, okay?"

  "As tired as I am at the moment, I don't think it'll be too hard to appear out of my mind," she said with a smile. Not too far down the road from the cabin, Minnie started to look around her. "Look at the snow, Arty," she said.

  "Sure is something, isn't it?"

  Snow covered every surface, and it sparkled, a field of diamonds in the morning sun. "It's breathtaking. Everything is so unspoiled," she said in awe. "I'd forgotten how perfect an Idaho snow storm can be."

  "There's a verse in the Bible about snow," said Art lightly.

  Curious, Minnie asked, "What does it say?"

  "It's about sin, repentance, and forgiveness. I don't remember the whole verse, but the part I do remember says, 'though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.'"

  Looking around her, Minnie said, "Do you think that's how it is with God? Do you think, in that moment that we ask His forgiveness for the wrongs we've done, and He grants it – do you think He looks at us and sees this?

  Taking in the sight around them, Art answered, "I'd like to think so. When I look around at the land covered in a fresh snow with nary a track in it, I can't help but think the whole world looks new. I'd like to think it's the same with God. We come to Him, and because we do, we look fresh and new, too."

  Minnie relaxed back down into her seat and said, "Maybe it is time I let God out of the corner."

  She could hear the smile in his voice as Art said, "Maybe it is at that."

  ****

  As they approached town, two riders met them. Mayor Smith and Samuel Livingston both had anxious looks on their faces.

  "Is she all right?" the mayor asked.

  Art nodded and said, "She's fine, Mayor, but I should get her to Doc Billingsly straightaway. She got quite a bump on the head."

  "What happened?" asked Samuel.

  Art kept his horse to a slow walk but continued on in the direction of the doctor's office. "Her buggy went over. She got thrown. I don't know how long she'd been there, but when I found her, she was buried in snow. If it weren't for the buggy and the tracks, I might not have found her."

  "Tracks?" asked the mayor.

  "The horse broke away from the buggy," said Art. "I found her a couple miles outside of town. She was on the side of the road with two broken legs." He felt Minnie tense in his arms and wished he'd told her sooner. His plan for keeping her reputation in tact depended on her seeming as sickly as possible, and a hysterical reaction to the mare's unfortunate demise would most definitely not help matters.

  "Did you put her down?" asked Samuel.

  Art nodded and then said, "I followed the mare's tracks as best I could back to the buggy. With the wind and snow it was no small task. Around the time I lost her trail, I spotted the buggy. It was so covered in snow I almost missed it. Starting with the most obvious direction for her to have been thrown, I began digging through the snow as fast as I could. Thank goodness I found her pretty quick. She was unconscious, and it looked like she'd been that way the entire time. There wasn't any indication in the snow that she'd tried to move from where she'd landed. With darkness falling and the road becoming harder and harder to see, it would have been foolhardy to try to make it all the way back into town. So we holed up at the old Riley place until first light. It seemed like the safest thing to do."

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18