Outlaw Hunter. Carol Arens
through it and let it fall loose about her shoulders. She put on her new shoes then bent over Seth’s crate to make sure his breathing remained deep and slow.
Good, it would be safe to go downstairs for a short time.
She closed the door behind her with a quiet click then walked down the hall to the stair landing.
From where she stood she could see most of the lobby. The scene was cozy with stuffed chairs placed in a half circle about the fireplace. Lamps on side tables were turned low for the night. They cast the parlor in a pretty amber glow.
She heard the ticktock of a grandfather clock but couldn’t see it.
At the foot of the stairs, she paused, faced with a pleasant decision. Should she pass these quiet moments in front of the fire, or sit beside the window and watch the storm blow by?
It had been an age since she felt this secure.
It occurred to her that she didn’t have to make a choice. She could do both.
She would start with the window.
All of a sudden the front door opened, blowing in a gust of sleet and Reeve Prentis.
“Evening, Melody.” He removed his slush-dampened hat and coat then hung them on the hall tree beside the door. “I wondered if you’d get any sleep tonight.”
Lamplight and fire glow certainly flattered Reeve. The warm light cast his eyes a deeper shade of green. A shadow brushed the cleft in his chin and highlighted the curve of his smile.
If she were a different person, at a different place in her life, she would reach out and touch his cold, ruddy-looking cheek.
“I tried but...” She shrugged. “What are you doing out so late and in this weather?”
“Town marshal’s down with a fever. I told him I’d make his rounds.”
“That was kind of you.”
“Just part of the job.”
“That was dedicated of you, then.”
The smile he flashed gave her heart a skip. That would not do. Last time her heart gave a skip... Well, she did have her boys.
“Would you care to sit for a while?” he asked.
“By the fire or the window?”
“Window. We can enjoy the storm and keep warm at the same time.”
He enjoyed storms? So did she. There was something so snug about sheltering inside while everything raged outside.
“Would you like some tea, Reeve? Maybe I can find some in the kitchen.”
“I’d be grateful.”
Those long fingers of his looked as if they needed to be wrapped around something warm. For an instant, she imagined being that something.
What, she wondered, would those big calloused fingers feel like, touching the curve of her...? That was a thought she would not indulge in. Someday she might be able to think of a man that way, but not yet.
She hurried away, hoping that he hadn’t noticed the blush heating her face.
* * *
After ten minutes, Melody walked into the parlor carrying two cups of fragrant, steaming tea. Reeve was almost sorry that the blush had faded from her cheeks. She looked pretty with that high coloring.
He took the cup Melody offered. She sat down on the chair across from him.
A mixture of rain and snow dripped down the window. Wind whistled and moaned.
“I wonder if the weather will keep us from leaving the hotel in the morning,” she said with a sidelong glance outside.
“Would you want it to?” He studied the delicate pucker of her brow, wondering about the troubles that had to be churning her mind. It would only be natural for her to worry about what would happen tomorrow.
“No!” She looked out the window again. “Well, maybe...”
“Things might not go easy at first.”
“I’m used to hard, Reeve.” She snapped her gaze back to him. “I can handle that for myself. But my babies, and the other children... I want things to go easy for them. Libby and Joe have only known hard.”
“I reckon your folks will need some time to adjust. That’s only reasonable, but they’ll come around.”
“I hope so.” Her mouth firmed into a look of conviction. “I believe so.”
“So do I.” He took a gulp of his tea then smiled at her. “Thanks for this.”
“You don’t need to thank me for anything, Reeve.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. Something in her eyes told him that the gesture did not come easily. “I can never pay you back for all you’ve done for me. And don’t tell me it’s just your job. I won’t hear it.”
“You’re welcome, Melody. You and the children have been refreshing traveling companions. It’s criminals that I normally escort.”
Not one single person that he’d escorted had ever touched his hand in friendship.
“It must be lonely, spending so much time away from your kin.”
Lonely and necessary.
“I see them when I can...holidays and such.”
“That doesn’t seem like enough. You speak so fondly of your nieces.”
Being away so much wasn’t right. He knew it. But he had a living to earn for his mother and his youngest sister—and a sin to atone for while he did it.
“You’re right. It isn’t enough.”
“Surely you could take more time off.”
Did he want to confide in her about his past? The night seemed right for private talk, with the storm wailing like a forlorn ghost and the two of them safe behind the glass. So late at night, it seemed that they were the only people alive with just the tick of the clock and their voices to fill up the night.
What had happened, what he had done to his family, was no secret, but he rarely spoke of it and they never did.
After tomorrow, it was unlikely that he would ever see Melody Dawson again. Sometimes, it was easier to talk to someone just passing through your life than it was to your own kin. At this time of year the guilt gnawed at him hard.
“I can’t take the time off for a pair of reasons.” He set down his tea, leaned back then folded his arms across his chest. If anyone could understand his sin, it would be Melody. “I’m the sole support of my crippled mother and my youngest sister. The reason that I am is that I trusted someone and it ended up getting my father killed. It put my mother in a wheelchair.”
If she was revolted by his confession, it didn’t show. Her gaze softened and she set down her tea. She leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her folded hands.
Melody Dawson was an exceptionally becoming woman, with her golden-blond hair falling softly over her shoulders and her warm, caring eyes looking at him with understanding.
“I’m so sorry, Reeve. Would you like to talk about it?”
He didn’t want to talk, but somehow he needed to unburden himself. Given her own past mistakes, she might be the one person to understand.
“Growing up, I was the oldest. I told you about my three sisters. The girls were always up to mischief. Ma and Pa were busy making a living. My folks were jewelers and had a shop in town so they were gone much of the time. It fell to me to keep the girls in line.
“But I was eighteen and didn’t want to stay in line, myself. One day I met a couple of fellows who were my age and full of the dickens. I admired them because they were free