The Cowboy's Cinderella. Carol Arens
stroked along through the water, this time she was the one watching him. There wasn’t a whole lot she could learn in the dark, not until he passed under one of the lanterns hanging from the roof over the cabin deck.
Then—gosh all-mighty, he was handsome! Fine of figure, he had the stride of a man of authority, a fellow who knew where he wanted to go and how to get there.
He didn’t seem drunk.
“Hey, mister!” she called up to him while treading water.
He stopped, looked down at her then came to the rail. Resting his arms on the balustrade, he gazed toward her.
“This here’s my private time. I don’t hanker to spend it with a Peeping Tom.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” Well, now she wasn’t sure his smile said sorry or not. “I didn’t know. I was only cooling some sweat, walking away some worry.”
That was probably the truth. On a gambling boat, for every winner there was a loser worrying over his loss. Not that the wealthy clients of the River Queen needed to worry over the loss...most of the time.
As far as the knowing went, he probably didn’t. There were no signs posted about Ivy’s private time—it was just something that the men who lived on board knew and respected.
This fellow didn’t live on board so she ought to allow for that.
And the river was a balm when one wanted to wash away a day’s stress. She couldn’t imagine living her life away from its soothing embrace. Often, she pitied land folks who never knew the feel of the river against their skin.
One more thing she ought to allow for was that the fellow up there was a paying customer. According to Uncle Patrick, those were soon to become scarce.
“I reckon you lost money tonight.” It was not unpleasant carrying on a conversation with this handsome fellow. Not when she was hidden in the cool kiss of the inky water and he was up there sweating in his fancy duds.
“If it’s a woman you’re looking to sooth yourself with, I ain’t her, but over yonder in Coulson you’ll find what you need.”
“I doubt it, ma’am.”
He was still smiling in the way that let her know that in this moment, his stress was relieved, but under that half-lifted mouth, life was not grand. She saw this to be true even in the dim light of the boat’s lamps.
It was her duty to make sure the passenger was happy so that tonight he would take a seat in the casino again.
“Look here, mister, if you agree to keep to the paddle side of the boat, I’ll share the water with you.”
“I’ll need to strip bare. You don’t mind?”
“I reckon I’ve got a peek coming since you were ogling me. Just keep to your side of the boat and we’ll get on just fine.”
The fellow pushed away from the rail. She heard his boots tripping down the stairs. He reappeared on the lower deck, his shirt in hand and his chest bare.
It wasn’t uncommon for Ivy to see a man bare chested. The roustabouts often worked shirtless.
But there was something different about this man, something curious. He made her insides feel fluttery.
Why was that? Men were men. One was not so much different than another. Two arms. Two legs.
Two muscled buttocks. She could not help but notice when he turned his back to her and stepped out of his trousers.
He was giving her the same glimpse of him that he had taken of her.
That was not quite true. He turned his head to flash her a mischievous smile before jumping feet first into the water, his back still presenting.
“Looks like we’re even, mister,” she said when his face broke the surface of the water.
She felt safe enough even though she kept only a twenty-foot buffer between them instead of the boat length. If he made an untoward move, she’d be off as quick as a minnow.
“What’s your name, gambler?” she asked then ducked under the water, surfacing a foot closer to him.
“Travis.”
Travis went under the water then came up a yard closer to her. His handsome face was dotted with water. He shook his head, splattering droplets from his short brown hair. It stood up in spikes all over his scalp—gave him a real boyish, friendly look. That sure was contrary to her first impression of him being a no-nonsense man of authority.
“What’s yours?”
“Ivy.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ivy.”
Naked sure was an odd way to meet a fellow, but the night was dark and so was the water.
“So, how much did you lose to keep you restless so late?” She ought to swim to the other side of the boat and float about gazing at the stars, but she was enjoying gazing at Travis’s face instead.
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t do much gambling.”
“Most folks aboard the River Queen come just for that.” A fish nibbled her toes. She kicked it away. “There’s some who just need transportation, but mostly they’re gamblers. Big money gamblers.”
“Are you familiar with the ship?”
“A bit.” She didn’t want to say she knew every inch of it, every board and shadow. That she was training to be a pilot. A lady pilot tended to be frowned upon and for some reason she did not want Travis frowning upon her.
“I’m looking for a woman named Eleanor.”
Her swim time was about up. If she didn’t rap on Uncle Patrick’s door telling him she was safely aboard, he would come looking.
“A sweetheart?” Gosh almighty she couldn’t swim away without knowing about that.
“No...not a sweetheart.” Oh? For some reason she was relieved to know it. “She’s inherited a ranch. I’ve got to find her and let her know.”
“And you believe she’s aboard?”
“I have reason to think so,” Travis answered, parting the water between them.
Only ten feet of sparkling river lay between them. Just because the water was dark did not make her any less naked.
Her imagination saw a dozen things that her eyes couldn’t.
It was time and past for her to be in her room.
She ducked under the surface and swam away. When she came up for air she looked back to see Travis on the deck, knee-deep into his britches.
Whoever this Eleanor was, she was a mighty lucky woman to have him looking for her, even if they were not sweethearts.
* * *
With the exception of one gambler, still in his chair but dead asleep with his head lying on the poker table, the saloon was empty.
The man’s pockets were turned inside out. His heavy breathing stirred the cards in front of his mouth.
Travis figured the fellow must have fallen asleep over the losing hand in front of his nose. No doubt, the smile tugging his mouth meant he was dreaming of the winning hand for tonight’s competition.
A lingering scent of cigars hovered in the corners of the large room. For all its size and elegance, the saloon was still cozy. The overstuffed chairs near the windows, the padded stools about the gaming tables, all invited one to stay and enjoy an evening.
With the piano covered for the night, the lamps turned low and everyone abed but the lone sleeper, Travis decided to continue his restless night right here, with his butt snuggled into a plump brown chair and his feet up on a gold ottoman.
For