Chapter Thirteen
“Mind if I join you?” Cash settled against the bar, signaling Paul for a whiskey.
“Doesn’t seem I have a choice.” Nick Barnett stared down into his own glass, not looking over at Cash.
Taking the glass from Paul, he raised his eyebrows at the bartender, who glanced at Nick, then shrugged. Nick seldom had what most people would consider a bad day. He took good and bad news with the same even temper, showing little emotion except when someone he cared about was threatened.
“Everyone all right, Nick?”
Shifting, he glanced at Cash. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Curious is all. You seem to be wrestling with something, so I wondered if Lena or Jack were sick, or…”
Nick let the silence stretch out between them. The only other person who knew what troubled him was Gabe, his friend and business partner. Not even Lena, whom he had known since they were children in New Orleans, trying to pull themselves out of the lives they’d been dealt by having prostitutes as mothers, knew what bothered him.
“As far as I know, both are fine. Gabe would be the one to ask.” He picked up his glass, started to take a sip, then set it back down.
“And Suzanne?”
Nick’s head snapped toward Cash, his eyes narrowing. “What about Suzanne?”
“Nothing. Just wondered if she was doing all right.” Cash took another swallow of whiskey. He’d allow himself one drink before making his last tour of the town, then he’d clean up to escort Alison to supper. A slight grin formed at the thought.
“How should I know what’s going on with Suzanne? She doesn’t answer to me.” Nick’s hardened voice might dissuade most people. Too bad Cash wasn’t most people.
Turning to face the bar, he lowered his voice. “Hell, Nick. That woman can’t buy a new dress without you knowing about it. From what I can see, you won’t even let her go into the general store alone. Don’t tell me whatever’s going on with you has nothing to do with Suzanne because that would be plain hogwash.”
Nick picked up his glass, glaring at Cash before he tossed it back in one gulp. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“For what?”
“For that skittish woman to give me some indication she wants more from me than friendship.”
Cash’s bark of laughter had heads turning in their direction. Ignoring them, he lowered his voice. “When did you start backing down from a challenge? Seems to me you’re the one who ought to make it clear how you feel. You know her story as well as anyone.”
Nick sighed. He did know her story. How her husband and daughter were killed in a freak blizzard years before, leaving her more broken than living. It had taken time, but she’d moved past the pain, opening the boardinghouse and building a solitary life by putting all she had into her work. With a heart as big as Montana, she looked out for everyone except herself, rarely taking a day off and eschewing any thought of finding love a second time.
“And her story is why I’ve been so patient. Look around, Cash. Not a person in this town is immune to heartbreak. All of us have faced loss.” He nodded at Paul to fill his glass a second time.
“Some people take longer to heal. Truth is, some never do, accepting whatever is left of their life.” Cash finished the last of his whiskey, leaning his arms on the bar. “I think Suzanne has gotten into a routine she understands. Unless someone gives her a reason to change, she’ll keep getting up each day, doing what she did the day before. You’re the one who has to change it.”
“What would you suggest?” Sarcasm seeped from Nick as a scowl crossed his face.
“Court her. Take her to supper or for a ride in the country. Get her out of the boardinghouse.”
“I’ve tried. Every day, she gets up before dawn, works her fingers to the bone, then falls into bed about midnight.” Nick rubbed his temple, feeling his head throb.
“As I recall, you, Gabe, and Lena own half the boardinghouse and are paying to expand the restaurant. Can’t you get someone to take her place for a day or evening?”
Nick thought a moment, his eyes taking on a familiar glint. “Mondays are slow. That’s one of the days Suzanne has that orphan girl, Rosemary, come in to help clean. Sometimes her brother, Ben, joins her. She’s been talking to Rosemary about working in the dining room…” His voice drifted off as he seemed to be working through the idea. “I might be able to arrange something.”
Cash clasped him on the shoulder. “No time like now.” Straightening, he turned toward the door.
“How do you know so much about this?”
“Plain ol’ experience,” Cash muttered under his breath, wishing it were true.
Alison closed the shop, locking the front door at least an hour before she expected Cash. Her stomach, and thoughts, had been in turmoil since he’d left, leaving her body tingling with a need she had no idea how to soothe.
Dashing upstairs, she slipped out of her clothes, then grabbed the sponge, washing her chest, neck, and arms. Taking a seat at the table she used as a vanity, Alison let down her hair, brushing it until it shown, then re-pinned it in a loose bun. A bottle of rose water caught her attention. Her parents had given it to her before her father joined the Union Army. She hadn’t used it since his funeral, and had never intended to wear it again. On impulse, she opened it, using a small amount on her neck, behind her ears, and on her wrists.
The final touch was the new dress she’d finished a week before, hanging on a hook behind her. When Alison saw it on a woman during the trip west, she vowed to make a pattern, then showcase the completed dress in her shop. Instead, when the last stitch was in place, she took it upstairs.
Slipping it on, she fastened the buttons. Standing in front of the mirror, she rotated in a circle twice, inspecting each detail. Seeing nothing amiss, she picked up her reticule and a shawl, took a deep breath, and headed down the stairs.
As she walked around the shop, adjusting hats and rearranging fabric, she heard a hearty knock. Sucking in a breath, she straightened her shoulders and unlocked the door. The look on his face pushed away the apprehension she’d been trying to ignore.
Until she saw him slowly shift his gaze from her face to her shoes, Alison hadn’t realized how much she wanted Cash’s approval. When he looked back into her eyes, she could’ve launched herself into his arms. Approval, clear as any spring day, shown on his face.
“You look stunning.” The huskiness in his voice told her how much he meant his words.
“Thank you, Cash. You look very handsome.” She smiled as she let her gaze drift over him. To her, he always looked magnificent, with his striking green eyes and blond hair. Tonight, he looked beyond handsome in a black shirt with a green ribbon tie and matching black slacks. The black coat hung to his thighs, and his boots had been polished until they gleamed.
Remembering his manners, he removed his hat and made a slight bow. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, locking the door to the shop, then slipping her arm through his.
They strolled down the boardwalk. When they passed Bett’s restaurant, she believed they’d be eating at the boardinghouse. As they crossed the street, she looked up at him in surprise when he continued past Suzanne’s and headed back toward the other end of town.
“Where—”
Cash placed a finger over her lips, silencing her question. “It’s a surprise.”
As they approached the end of the boardwalk, she glanced around, wondering where he was taking her, then looked up at him. His grin told her how much he was enjoying her curiosity.
Coming to a halt in front of the St. James Hotel, he hesitated a moment before opening the door.
“But Cash, they have no restaurant…” Alison’s brows arched as her voice drifted off.
Without saying a word, he nodded at the clerk behind the front desk, then made a slight turn. In an alcove to the left stood a single table with a white tablecloth, a stunning silver candelabra, and the most elegant silver tableware she’d ever seen, adorned with intricate engravings. Her gaze settled on the lustrous china decorated with a fine pattern of leaves and flowers in greens and blues. In all her life, Alison had never seen anything so stunning.
“Do you like it?” The apprehension in his voice warmed her. It was obvious her answer meant a great deal to him.
“I love it, Cash.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked up, seeing his features relax.
“Good evening, Mr. Coulter.” A young waiter took the back of Alison’s chair, pulling it out for her.
“Good evening, Bradley. I didn’t know Nick and Gabe had hired you.” Cash waited a moment while Alison adjusted her dress before taking his seat.
“I spoke with Mr. Barnett about a job once the restaurant opened. Sheriff Evans rode out to the ranch a few days ago and said they were ready for me. You are, well, my first customers since the full dining room doesn’t open until next week.” He blushed, his enthusiasm for his new job obvious. Handing them each a handwritten menu, he walked to a nearby serving cart, picking up a bottle. “May I offer each of you a glass of our Isabella wine?”
Cash glanced at Alison, whose blank face almost made him chuckle. “Thank you, Bradley. A small amount for the lady.”
Pouring a half glass for Cash and a quarter glass for Alison, he set the bottle aside. “I’ll give you a few minutes to read the menu and decide.”
They picked up their glasses, Cash tilting his toward her. “To a memorable evening.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “A memorable evening.” Taking a sip, her eyes danced at the taste.
“Have you had wine before?” Cash rolled the dark red liquid around to coat the sides of the glass, then took a sip.
“Only what I’ve made.”
He almost choked at her declaration. “You make wine?”
“Not anything as elegant as this, of course. My mother taught me how to make it. I use apples, cherries, or elderberries. Whatever is available. I have a bottle of apple wine at home if you’d like to try a glass sometime.”
“Mrs. Burns, you are full of surprises.”
This time, it was Alison who almost choked on her wine, thinking of the other surprises Cash knew nothing about.
Supper continued, each contributing small talk about their lives before moving west. Alison knew Cash left out much of what he saw during the war, the same as she did since her brother died. She longed to ask him more about the robbery and what happened that day.
The change in her thoughts about Splendor and the shootings unsettled her. Anger and the need for retribution controlled Alison from the moment she’d learned of Bobby’s death. She still believed he never would have been willingly involved with a gang of outlaws. The thought of him pulling a gun on innocent people sent a chill through her, as questions about his innocence mounted.
“May I get you anything else?” Bradley filled their coffee cups once more, then picked up the empty dessert plates.
“I don’t believe so.” Cash reached into his pocket, pulling out a worn leather wallet.
“Mr. Barnett told me your supper has been taken care of, Mr. Coulter.” When he saw the dark look passing over Cash’s face, Bradley cleared his throat, his discomfort obvious. “He said if you have any problem with it, you need to see him.”
Before Cash could react, Alison reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “Please tell Mr. Barnett thank you for us and that the evening couldn’t have been better.”
“Thank you. I’ll certainly tell him.” Flashing Alison a look of gratitude, Bradley pulled out her chair. “I hope you’ll come back when the main dining room opens. It will be quite the sight.”
“Oh, you can bet your horse on it, Bradley.” Cash moved next to Alison, placing a hand on her lower back as he guided her outside.
“It was quite nice of Nick to treat us to supper.”
Cash’s scowl indicated he didn’t feel the same. “I’ll talk to him. Give him your regards.”
He knew the irritation he felt was unreasonable. If Nick wanted to pay for their supper, so be it. Yet a part of him wanted to play a little bit the hero with Alison, which included handing over the money himself.
Ignoring his change in mood, she slid her arm through his as they crossed the street, walking toward her shop.
“I’ve watched them move furniture into the hotel over the last few months. Tonight is the first time I’ve been inside. It’s magnificent. More than I would have expected for a town the size of Splendor.”
“It’s what Gabe, Lena, and Nick wanted. They believe Splendor’s growth will continue, bringing in people with money. It will attract different kinds of people than the boardinghouse. You know they own part of Suzanne’s boardinghouse, too, right?” When she nodded, Cash went on. “Gabe grew up in the hotel business in New York, so he’s the intellect behind it. Nick’s real sharp at business, so he runs the daily operations.”
“And Lena?”
“She helps hire, although she says there isn’t a lot to choose from around here for a hotel such as the St. James. They have four or five people now. Pretty soon, if no one around here is interested, they’ll be looking to hire from Big Pine.”
“What about the Chinese workers who came to town?” They stopped in front of the shop door, neither in a hurry to end their conversation.
“The Pelletiers hired Wu as a cook for the ranch. Lena already promised a cleaning job to a girl named Rosemary or she might have hired Sun Li.” He turned her toward him, resting his hands on her shoulders, feeling a spark pass though him.
“Is Rosemary the girl who helps Suzanne now?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“Yep. She’ll work both jobs.” His voice became heated as he gently rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
Turning, she opened the door, gesturing inside. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes? I can make coffee.”
The last thing on his mind was coffee. He should’ve been thinking about her reputation, what the people in town would say if someone spotted him going inside at this time of night. It seemed unlikely. Her store stood at the far southern end of town. The bank was on one side, nothing except vacant land on the other, the church and hotel across the street. Looking around, he didn’t see a single person, even though the sounds of tinny piano music spilled from each of the saloons.
“Are you sure, Allie?”
Shivers washed over her again when he used her nickname. It sounded so right coming from his lips. “Well, it is a lot of work to make coffee, but I suppose you’re worth the effort.”
He chuckled. “Then yes, I’ll come in for coffee.”
Picking up an already lit lantern, she moved to the back of the store and upstairs to her living quarters. Until she walked through her door, it hadn’t occurred to her the two of them alone might not be such a good idea. All she’d thought about was how much she didn’t want him to leave, wasn’t ready to end their evening together.
“You can put your hat there.” She pointed to a row of hooks near the door, then moved into the kitchen. “Would you mind stoking the fire? I filled it before leaving for supper, but it’s probably burned down by now.” Moving to the counter, she picked up a tin of coffee, filling the empty pot from a nearby barrel.
Stoking the fire, Cash watched her, his brows knitting together. “How do you get the water up here?”
“Oh, I bring it up in a bucket. There’s a well behind the building.”
Her words stalled his casual efforts at bringing the fire back to life. Cash thought about her living alone and all the chores that fell to her, along with the work in her shop. Most people brought water into their home in a similar way. Same with firewood. Why did it bother him so much that Alison hauled hers upstairs by herself? Especially when he’d done the same most of his life.
She set the coffee pot on the stove, then wiped her hands. “It will be a few minutes. Do you want to have a seat?” Glancing toward the only two chairs in her home, she selected one and sat down, threading her fingers together in her lap. Instead of joining her, Cash looked around, his gaze landing on a few framed pictures. Walking to them, he bent down to get a better look at one with a young girl and boy.
“This looks like you. Who’s the boy?”
Her fingers tightened as her chest constricted. There was a good reason why she never mentioned her brother.
“A neighbor boy. Very sweet. He loved animals, and would’ve daydreamed away most days if moth…um…his mother hadn’t kept after him.” She winced at the slight mistake, although Cash didn’t seem to notice. Standing, Alison pointed to the picture of her mother and father, then a single one of her father in uniform. The last picture showed all four of them. “Guess he snuck into this one, too.”
He heard a small catch in her voice. Sweeping his gaze across each picture once more, he looked at her, sensing a significant clue to Allie’s past lay in front of him, yet he couldn’t see it. “Whatever happened to him?”
“I honestly don’t know. People move about, life changes. You know how it is.” She didn’t wait for him to answer as she walked back to the stove, picking up two cups from a nearby shelf. “I have sugar and milk if you’d like.”
“No. Black is fine.” Even though she’d invited him upstairs, a chill had settled over them. His asking about the pictures made it worse. When she’d handed him the cup, her hand had shaken enough for him to notice. “Is there anything wrong, Allie?”
“No. Why would you think so?” She added sugar and milk to her coffee, stirring much longer than needed to blend them.
He walked toward her, setting his cup on a nearby table. “Maybe it isn’t a good idea for me to be here. I should go.”
Reaching out, she touched his arm. “There are some days I miss my family more than others. They called me Allie. Did you know that?”
His eyes widened at her admission. Shortening her name had seemed natural, the same as shortening Abigail to Abby.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken the liberty, especially if it brings back bad memories.”
“No. I like it when you call me Allie. It makes me feel, well…like I’m back home.”
Stepping close, Cash took the cup from her hand and set it aside, then slipped his arms around her. “I like the way it sounds. You seem more of an Allie than an Alison.” His warm breath washed over her face, causing her to lean further into him.
“And why is that?”
“Don’t know. It’s carefree, less formal. Allie is how I see you in my dreams.” He touched his lips to her forehead, then tucked her head against his chest.
“You dream about me?”
“Darn near every night.” His deep chuckle made her smile as her heartbeat quickened.
“I dream about you, too.”
“That so?”
“Almost every night.” Her breath had become ragged. She felt certain he couldn’t miss the thundering of her heart against him. Shifting, she looked up into his face, eyes dark with passion.
On a groan, Cash covered her mouth with his, tightening his hold as she snuggled into him. A flash of heat so strong, so powerful jolted through him. Lifting her into his arms, he moved to the bed, then sat down, settling her on his lap, never breaking contact. His hands moved up and down her back, skimming to her slim waist, resting on the flare of her hips. She tightened her hold, as if she never planned to let go.
A firestorm of passion ripped through her as he continued to stroke her back. She squirmed against him, unable to satisfy her need to get close. Her body demanded more, even as her mind raced to understand how to sate her growing desire. When a loud moan escaped, it took a moment for her to realize it came from her.
If it had been any other woman, any other night, Cash would’ve continued, uncaring as to the consequences. As a widow, Allie knew what to expect and would accept the outcome of her actions. Yet something seemed amiss. No matter how much he tried to make sense of it, she didn’t come across as woman of experience. He had his share of women, some being widows, and nothing about Allie spoke of an understanding of what happened between a man and a woman when passion took over.
When another moan passed from her lips to his, the reality they had to stop gripped him. Breaking the kiss, he let his lips drift from the corner of her eye, down her cheek, and along the curve of her jaw before he shifted her off his lap and onto the bed. Drawing in a shaky breath, he winced at the confusion on her face.
“Did I do something wrong?” The pain in her voice tore at his heart.
“No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he tugged Allie to his side, brushing a kiss across her temple. “You did everything right, and that is why I have to leave.”
“But—”
He touched a finger to her lips. “It’s late, and you consumed a good deal of wine tonight. When we make love, which I hope we will, I want you to be clear-headed, remembering every detail. You’re too special to do this any other way.” And he needed time to sort out his feelings, understand how a widow could be such an innocent. “If you can close the shop early on Saturday, we’ll take a ride. All right?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded, wishing he could at least hold her a little longer.
“You get some rest.” Touching his lips once more to hers, he stood, walking to the door. Grabbing his hat, he glanced at her once more, a hesitant smile on his face, then closed the door behind him.