Читать книгу Abbie's Outlaw - Victoria Bylin - Страница 10

Calling himself a fool, John ran his fingers through his hair. What the devil was he doing holding Abbie’s hand? She wasn’t an elderly widow with gray hair and wrinkles. Touching her stirred up thoughts he didn’t want, and if her eyes were as honest as they had been in Kansas, she had wanted to slap him.

And with good reason. Just as he remembered, her fingers were strong and slender, perfect for kneading bread or massaging a man’s tired shoulders. She had done him that favor after a day of apple picking.

I’m beat. My arms feel like old ropes.

You worked so hard… Let me rub your shoulders.

He had slumped over the kitchen table, resting his head on his forearms as she’d massaged his neck. Her fingers had worked magic, and he’d offered to return the favor. Wisely she had turned her head, but not before he’d seen the discovery of desire in her eyes. Fool that he’d been, he’d taken it as a challenge.

Now, with the precaution he should have taken in Kansas, John kept the carpetbag between them as he led the way down the platform steps. He hated to ask questions about Susanna, but he needed information. “Do you know when your daughter left Washington?”

“About three weeks ago,” Abbie replied. “She was staying with her best friend in Middleburg. Apparently the girls cooked up the scheme together. They told Colleen’s parents that Susanna was going home, and Susanna wrote to me that she was staying through June.”

John nodded. “I’ve used that trick myself. It’s a good one.”

“Too good, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t have known she’d run away if I hadn’t sent a wire asking the Jensens to send her home early. We have plans to meet my father.”

“We’ll send him a wire, too, saying you might be delayed.”

“No!” Abbie’s voice carried above the street noise. John turned and saw that she was trying to appear relaxed. “He doesn’t know Susanna’s missing. I don’t want him to worry.”

“Is there any chance she’s been in touch with him?”

“None at all. They aren’t close.”

As they approached the telegraph office, he asked the question he’d been dreading. “What does she look like?”

For the first time since leaving the train, Abbie smiled. “Probably like a boy. She just turned fourteen, but she stole clothes from her friend’s brother and chopped off her hair. The disguise won’t be convincing for long, but right now she’s a beanpole and about my height.”

John had to admire the girl’s spunk. “What color is her hair?”

“Dark and straight.”

Like mine, he thought. He wondered if Robert’s coloring had been dark, but it seemed unlikely. Robbie’s hair was the color of sand.

“What about her eyes?” John asked.

“They’re brown.”

He’d been hoping to hear “blue like Robbie’s,” not that it mattered. Brown eyes were as common as mud. At least half the folks in Midas had brown eyes. John lifted a piece of paper off the counter. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Only that she doesn’t have much money. If she went to Bitterroot, the train fare cost more than I thought.”

At the mention of the town where he’d been convicted of murder, John stifled a frown. He remembered every building, every alley, but especially the courthouse where he’d been convicted for the deaths of Ben Gantry’s sons. If anyone had cause to hate John, it was Ben. Without knowing it, Susanna was spitting on the graves of his sons.

Seeing the worry in Abbie’s eyes, John looked for consolation and found it in the presence of his old friend. Silas had knocked sense into John when he’d been dumped in prison, kicking and shouting obscenities at the guards. “There’s a bright spot in this mess,” he said to Abbie. “I have a friend who’ll look for her if I ask.”

“Who?” she asked.

“His name is Silas Jones. We met in prison, but don’t judge him for it. He’s an ex-slave with more scars on his back than skin. He talked me through some terrible times.”

Silas had known how to get along with the guards. He’d also known how to pray. After John had taken the beating of his life, he’d been begging God to let him die. Instead the good Lord had sent Silas. Thanks to that wise old man, John could sleep at night, alone and usually without dreams. Never mind that he woke up lonely and lustful. He’d made that choice for a reason and he’d be wise to remember it, especially with the scent of Abbie’s skin filling his nose.

After jotting the telegram on a notepad, he asked the clerk to send it immediately. The rustle of Abbie’s dress dragged his gaze to her reticule where she was digging for coins. “How much will it be?” she asked the clerk.

John interrupted. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No, I insist. She’s my daughter.”

Maybe so, but judging by her worn-out clothes, Abbie didn’t have a lot of money. He’d assumed that Robert had been well-to-do, but the man could have gambled away every cent. For all John knew, he’d left Abbie in debt with two children to feed. It would explain the air of secrecy about her. Before she could find her coins, he opened his billfold and slapped a greenback on the counter. “Take it out of this,” he said to the wire operator, a man named Bill Norris.

“No!” Abbie looked at Bill. “How much is it?”

The operator named an amount that would have made a Rockefeller grumble. From the corner of his eye, John saw Abbie pale as she extracted two small bills.

At the sight of her tense fingers, he realized more was at stake than money. She was drawing a line between his responsibilities and hers, but he couldn’t let her pinch pennies. The train fare had to cost a hundred dollars each, and lodging would be expensive, too. Since the telegram was the least of her worries, he surrendered with a smile. “Want to flip a coin to see who pays?”

“Absolutely not,” she said. “And please don’t argue with me. I get enough of that from Robbie.”

“All right,” John said easily. But the conversation wasn’t over. If he asked his housekeeper to live in, Abbie and her son could stay at the parsonage. It wouldn’t cost her a dime. They’d be able to talk in private and get to know each other again. He’d have company at meals, even at breakfast. Hellfire! What was he thinking? Privacy was the last thing they needed, especially with Judas-down-there wanting to share more than toast and scrambled eggs.

John slid his billfold into his coat pocket. He’d be wise to get Abbie and her son settled at the Midas Hotel as soon as possible. As for the bill, he’d pay it. He owed it to her, and probably more in view of her description of Susanna. But he’d face that problem later.

As she stepped into the lobby of the Midas Hotel, Abbie inhaled the cool air with gratitude. The accommodations were modest by Washington standards, but the hotel had a lived-in charm. A side table held glasses and a pitcher of iced tea, and four petit point chairs were arranged in the center of the room. She was about to approach the counter when the whistle of a canary called her attention to an iron cage near the window. With the sun streaming through the bars, the little fellow puffed up and sang his heart out.

Abbie loved birds. She fed dozens of them in her backyard in Washington, and she missed the way they calmed her worries. From the cage, her gaze traveled to a doorway that led to a café where she and Robbie could take their meals if it wasn’t too expensive. Overall, things could have been worse. With a little luck, she could take a bath and a nap before supper. At the sight of her son waiting politely at the hotel counter, she smiled her approval.

“Can I look around?” he asked.

“Sure. Just don’t leave the lobby.”

With John standing at her side, she rang the bell on the counter. A chubby man in a white shirt ambled out of the back room and smiled at them both. “Howdy, Reverend. What can I do for you folks?”

“Nate, this is Abigail Windsor. She’s a friend of mine. She and her son need a suite for a few weeks.”

“A single room will be fine,” Abbie said. She craved the luxury of private space, but she couldn’t afford it.

When Nate glanced at John, she suspected a message was being passed. She ached for a bed of her own, but she didn’t want to owe John any favors. “How much will it be for just a room?” she insisted.

“Same as for the suite,” Nate said. “The singles are all taken, so I’ll give it to you at a discount. The windows face the alley, but the beds are soft.”

At the thought of a feather mattress, Abbie no longer cared about owing favors to anyone. “That’s kind of you. I’ll take it.”

As the clerk turned to the wallbox holding keys, she reached for the pen and signed the register. “Is it possible to order a bath?”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

She was imagining steamy water when the casual scuff of her son’s shoes caught her attention. Robbie had just stepped back into the lobby with his hands jammed into his pockets and a sly look in his eyes. Abbie’s stomach lurched. The last time she’d seen that expression had been on the train when he’d stolen the orange. Needing every advantage, she straightened her spine to gain a few inches on the boy who could almost look her in the eye.

“I told you to stay in the lobby,” she said firmly.

“I did.”

“No, you were in the restaurant.”

“Isn’t that part of the lobby, Mother?”

His tone made her grit her teeth. Up until Robert’s death, she’d been “Ma” and sometimes even “Mama.” Abbie was stifling her frustration when she heard a cynical chuff from John. The good Reverend was leaning casually against the counter and giving Robbie the toughest stare she had ever seen.

“Son, you have a choice,” he said. “You can put back the money you just stole, or you can make your problems worse by lying.”

John’s eyes were rock-hard, but below the intensity she saw the hope that Robbie would tell the truth. Unfortunately her son had no such compunction. Just as she expected, Robbie screwed his face into an arrogant scowl. “I’m not a thief!”

“Sure you are,” John replied. “You took money that wasn’t yours.”

“Mother!” Robbie hooked a thumb at John. “He’s insulting me.”

Abbie arched an eyebrow. “I think the Reverend is being kind.”

John tsked his tongue. “You have a lot to learn, kid. First off, don’t waste your breath on straight denials. Muddy the water with a bit of truth. If I were you, I’d say something like, ‘I found some change on the floor, but that’s all.’”

Robbie rolled his eyes, but John ignored it. “As for stealing, taking all the money isn’t smart. In a few minutes, Mary’s going to come looking for what she’s owed. If you had taken half of it, she’d think her customer made a mistake and you’d be off scot-free.”

As Robbie opened his mouth to argue, a woman wearing an apron stepped out of the café. “Has anyone seen Cole? He forgot to pay his bill.”

Keeping his gaze on Robbie, John said, “Cole’s not the problem, Mary.”

Sizing up the situation, the gray-haired woman marched up to Robbie and put her hands on her hips. “Did you steal from me, young man?”

“No!” Seemingly horrified, Robbie gripped Abbie’s sleeve. “Mama? Tell them I didn’t do it.”

Being called “Mama” made her furious. Shaking her head, she said, “I wish I could, but we’ve been down this road before.”

“I didn’t take the money! I swear it. Father would believe me! He cared about me. You’re just a stupid—”

“Apologize.”

The command in John’s voice sent chills down Abbie’s spine. With the intensity of hell itself, he stared at Robbie, showing the boy that he’d met his match.

Startled, her son looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, Ma.”

Abbie put iron in her voice. “You and I will finish this discussion later.”

“But, Mama—”

“Don’t say another word.” Abbie faced Mary and opened her handbag. “How much did he take?”

Just then a young cowboy poked his head through the doorway. “Hey, Mary, I can’t find my pocketknife. Did I leave it on the table?”

“Cole Montgomery, did you pay your bill?” asked the cook.

“Of course, I did! I left it under the sugar bowl like always.”

With his cheeks burning, Robbie dug the money out of his pocket. “Here,” he said to Mary. “I’m sorry.”

John rocked back on his heels. “Sorry you took it or sorry you got caught?”

“Both, I guess.”

“That’s honest,” John answered. “But to make things right, you need to pay back more than you took.”

“I could use an extra dishwasher tomorrow,” Mary said. “It’s flapjack day and I’m expecting a crowd.”

“He’ll be there,” Abbie replied. “What time?”

“Six a.m.”

So she wouldn’t be sleeping past dawn and enjoying the comfortable bed. Getting Robbie downstairs would be a battle, but Abbie gave a firm nod. “I’ll be sure he’s on time.”

John shook his head. “You need your rest. I’ll tap on your door in the morning. That way Robbie and I can have breakfast before he gets to work.”

Her son glared at John. “My name isn’t Robbie. It’s Robert.”

“I’ll call you ‘Robert’ when you earn it,” John answered. “I was Johnny for a lot of years, so I know what a name means.”

Abbie froze at the memory of hearing his name for the first time. Her twisted ankle hadn’t taken her weight, and he’d helped her into his saddle. Her skirt had hiked up her calf, and she’d caught him looking just before he’d climbed up behind her.

My name’s John Leaf.

I’d rather call you Johnny. It suits you.

Lord, she’d been such a flirt. But a man’s attention had been so exciting, so intriguing—now she knew better.

As Mary left the lobby, Abbie turned back to Nate at the counter. “I’m sorry for the interruption. How much do I owe you for the rooms?”

The clerk shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Windsor, but I can’t have that boy in my hotel.”

Panic pulsed through her. She hadn’t noticed another hotel. Hating the necessity of it, she humbled her voice. “I promise to keep an eye on him.”

Nate shook his head. “I can’t risk it, ma’am. The railroad boss is staying here. He’d never come back if a thief picked his pocket. Besides, you and the boy can stay with the Reverend. Mrs. Cunningham won’t mind staying over to make sure things are proper.”

John shook his head. “That won’t work.”

“Why not?” asked Nate.

“Because it just won’t,” John replied.

Abbie interrupted. “I refuse to impose. Perhaps you can recommend a boardinghouse?”

Nate scratched his neck. “There’s one by the depot.”

“Absolutely not,” said John. “The place has fleas and the plumbing’s broken.”

Abbie’s skin crawled. She hated bugs of any kind. Facing Nate, she said, “Perhaps we could rent a room somewhere else? Maybe from another widow?”

“Not with your boy’s bad habits,” Nate said with a frown. When Abbie stayed silent, he gave a satisfied nod. “They sell flea powder at the Emporium. You might want to pick some up.”

Noise. Bugs. Broken plumbing. She was on the verge of begging Nate to reconsider when Robbie crossed his arms over his chest. “Mother, we can’t possibly stay at a boardinghouse.”

That did it. Abbie refused to raise a snob. “We certainly can. You stole money and lied. I don’t blame this gentleman one bit for not letting us stay here.”

“But that other place isn’t decent. Father would be angry—”

“He’d also be angry with your behavior.” Abbie hated the lie that rolled from her lips. Robert would have made excuses for his son and raised his allowance. Facing Nate, she said, “The boardinghouse will be fine. Could you send over our trunk?”

John clasped her elbow. “You’ll have to stay at the parsonage. Sally’s place isn’t safe.”

Abbie held in a cynical laugh. Her own home hadn’t been safe, either. Nor had she been safe with Johnny Leaf on her grandmother’s farm.

Are you sure, Abbie?

Yes…no…please don’t stop…

They’d tumbled onto a downy mattress where he’d pressed her deep into the fluff. It had been a warm night, humid and heavy with rain, and she’d been wearing her grandmother’s precious silk robe…The memory faded, leaving in its wake a low-bellied fear. Never mind the comforts of the parsonage. She’d feel safer in the company of strangers than with this man who still had a powerful hold over her. With the decision made, she slid out of John’s grasp, lifted the valise and headed for the door. “Robbie, let’s go.”

“Abbie, wait,” John called.

She picked up her pace, but it didn’t stop him from pulling up next to her. He clasped her arm again, more forcefully this time because she was moving. Pain shot from her shoulder to her neck, but she hid it. “Let go of me,” she ordered.

He released her immediately, but she was too stunned by the pain to move. His face was inches from hers, fiery and full of purpose as he hooked his hands in his coat. “If you go to Sally’s, the fleas will be the least of your problems. She rents rooms to whores and drunks who use each other for target practice.”

Abbie turned to her son. “Go to the corner and stand where I can see you. Do not disobey me.”

After a snide look, he walked to the corner and stopped, probably because the Reverend was glaring, too. With Robbie out of earshot, Abbie faced John.

“I want to be very clear,” she said with deadly calm. “I have no desire to spend the night with fleas or vermin of any kind. All I want is a basin of clean water, a bed that’s not moving and a bit of privacy.”

His eyes burned into hers. “You can have those things at the parsonage. I promise—you’ll be safe.”

From me.

He’d said the last words with his eyes, but she didn’t believe him for a minute. She’d never feel safe again and certainly not with Johnny Leaf. Stay angry, she told herself. Stay strong.

“I appreciate the offer, Reverend, but I’d rather keep company with the fleas.”

His spine turned rigid, giving him another inch of height so that she felt like a sparrow looking up at one of the ravens in her backyard. The creases around his eyes deepened, telling her that she’d struck a nerve. It didn’t matter. Hurting John’s feelings was the least of her worries. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I’ll take you to Sally’s,” he said. “But just for tonight. When you’re rested, you and I have to talk.”

“Tomorrow, then,” she said. “While Robbie’s washing dishes.”

She pivoted and hurried down the street, keeping her eyes on her son while John followed her. The thud of his boots on the wood planks reminded her that she was in an unfamiliar town and had no idea where to go. When she reached the corner where Robbie was standing, she stopped to orient herself. Across the street, she saw a dress shop, a newspaper office and the yellow facade of the Midas Emporium. Later she’d go out for flea powder and something to read so she could fall asleep, but right now she wanted to be rid of the Reverend.

He was motioning down a street that led to the outskirts of the town. “Sally’s place is this way,” he said.

As she peered down the strip of dirt, Abbie saw a sign advertising baths for a nickel and a splintered storefront with the swinging half doors of a saloon. Her insides sank with dread. The Reverend had been telling the truth about Sally’s clientele, but she refused to change her mind about the parsonage. Even standing on a street corner in the middle of the day, she could feel the old connection between them.

So little about him had changed. His dark eyes still had a hawklike intensity, as if he could see the tiniest secrets in her heart. At the same time, she saw a loneliness in his gaze, a reminder that each of God’s creatures had boarded the ark with a mate. Abbie felt her insides twist with a mix of longing and hateful memories of her marriage. If she didn’t get away from John soon, she’d be a nervous wreck.

To keep her composure, she looked him square in the eye. “I can find it from here. Just tell me what the house looks like.”

“Not a chance,” he replied. “I’ll introduce you to Sally and get you settled. I also want to be sure you can find me if you need anything.”

Abbie wanted to ignore the offer, but she wasn’t a fool. Whether she liked it or not, she was in a rough part of town and Johnny Leaf was her only friend. She tapped her son’s arm to take his attention away from the Emporium. “Robbie? You need to listen.”

As the boy turned around, the Reverend pointed at a white steeple on the other side of town. “That’s the church. The parsonage is across from it. It’s a two-story house with a wide porch. That’s where I live.”

Confident she understood John’s directions, Abbie continued down the street. The three of them walked in silence, but she couldn’t block out the awareness of John matching his long stride to hers. It was like walking together in Kansas. Only now she was wearing black instead of red calico. She also had scars while he seemed more confident than ever.

Eager to reach their accommodations, she peered down the street until she spotted a sign offering rooms for rent. It was hanging in front of a box-shaped house with cracked windows, peeling paint and a yard full of weeds.

“This is it,” John said.

Abbie schooled her features. “It’s just fine.”

John gave her a skeptical look, but she hadn’t been lying. She didn’t care about a comfortable bed or a fancy washbowl anymore. She just wanted to be away from the Reverend and the feelings he stirred up. As soon as he left, she’d feel safe and that’s what mattered most.