Whirlwind Groom. Debra Cowan
his job, but Josie knew she couldn’t let down her guard around him.
“Thank you for letting me switch rooms, Mr. Wavers,” she said in a raised voice. “I’ll go move my things.”
She patted his hand and headed upstairs, smiling broadly.
Between the sewing she had brought to finish and the new curtains and tablecloths for the hotel, she would be busier than a one-armed bank robber. She needed to work quickly on the hotel’s items since she didn’t know how soon she would be leaving.
But for now she could watch the jail from her new room without attracting notice. When the time was right, she would make sure Ian McDougal saw justice. And that handsome sheriff wasn’t going to get in her way.
It had been two days since Davis Lee had seen Josie Webster’s pretty little hide in the alley. Since he’d seen her anywhere. So where was she? Was she still watching his jail? In case she was, he had taken the precaution of rearranging his schedule, which had caused him to miss his hot pie. If she had left town using the stage or a rig rented from the livery, he would’ve known.
Either she had left town by some other means or she was up to something. Intending to find out which, he shackled McDougal to the bars of his cell before going outside and locking the door to his office. He walked a slow but thorough path through town. No sign of her. When she’d left him the other day she had slipped into Haskell’s, so Davis Lee made the general store his last stop before the hotel. Maybe Charlie had seen her.
Davis Lee walked into the store, catching the sweet tang of apples as he said hello to Cal Doyle’s wife, Lizzie, who was leaving.
Charlie Haskell stood behind the scratched wooden counter, polishing his spectacles. The store owner was small-framed and spare. “Morning, Davis Lee. What can I do for you today?”
Mitchell Orr, Charlie’s eighteen-year-old nephew who helped in the store and kept the books, ducked through the faded blue curtain separating the store from the back office. He was dressed just as his uncle in dark trousers and a white shirt with suspenders. His wiry arms held several bolts of white fabric and a red, blue and yellow calico. “Hello, Sheriff.”
“Hey, Mitchell.” Davis Lee greeted the blond-haired boy before speaking to his uncle. “Just had a question, Charlie. A woman came in here the other day. She’s new to town. Has brown or well, maybe brownish-red hair—”
“You mean that pretty little thing who’s staying at the Whirlwind Hotel?” Charlie peered at him over the top of his glasses, his brown eyes sparking with interest.
Mitchell stopped at the edge of the counter. “Josie Webster?” he asked eagerly.
Davis Lee figured that a hundred unfamiliar women could have paraded through Haskell’s General Store, and Charlie and Mitchell would’ve known Josie. They weren’t likely to forget that heart-shaped face or that creamy skin. Or the graceful curves that made a man crazy to put his hands on her. He sure hadn’t been able to forget. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“She’s been in a couple of times,” Mitchell offered.
“When was the last time y’all saw her?”
Charlie thought for a minute.
“She was in yesterday for more thread,” the younger man said.
“And the day before to buy fabric for the hotel,” Charlie added. “She’s making new curtains and tablecloths for Penn and Esther.”
“Is that right?” So it appeared she had decided to stay, at least for a while. Did that decision have anything to do with Ian McDougal?
Mitchell nodded at his burden. “This is the rest of the fabric Miss Webster ordered. We didn’t have all she needed so I had to go over to Abilene. I about cleaned out that store.” He edged his way out from behind the counter. “I’ll take this over to her at the hotel, Uncle. Won’t be long.”
“Hold up there, Mitchell.” Davis Lee stepped in front of him. “I already have to stop by the hotel. I’d be happy to deliver that for you.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.”
“Since I’m already going there, it won’t put me out.” He didn’t need an excuse to talk to her, but delivering the fabric provided him with a better chance of getting into her room, seeing if he could find anything to confirm his suspicions about her.
Charlie motioned for his nephew to give the cloth to Davis Lee. “She in some kind of trouble?”
“No.” She is trouble. And he aimed to find out how much. He took the stack from the boy, who looked disappointed. “Just saving you a trip.”
“If I were twenty years younger, I’d take it myself.” Charlie chuckled. “Can’t say as I blame you, Sheriff.”
Davis Lee grinned, not bothering to correct the man’s assumption that he was romantically interested in Josie Webster.
A few minutes later, Davis Lee stood at the hotel’s registration desk, loaded down with four bolts of fabric. “Penn, I’ve got a delivery here for Miz Webster,” he said loudly. “Is she here?”
“I believe so.” The man’s wizened features creased in a smile. “You working for Charlie now, Sheriff?”
“Just helping out.”
“She’s in room 214.”
“Thanks.” Davis Lee started up the scratched pine staircase, his boots scuffing the freshly swept wood.
“No, no, that’s not right, Sheriff,” Penn said. “She’s not in that room anymore.”
Halfway up the staircase, Davis Lee turned.
“She’s in room 200 now. I forgot she asked to move a couple of days ago.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Said she wanted a room at the front of the hotel so she could have a view while she sewed.”
Davis Lee’s eyes narrowed. That was why he hadn’t seen her in the alley since that encounter a couple of days ago. Since he already thought she was hiding something, this news made him even more determined to find out what.
“Thanks, Penn. I’ll get this stuff up to her.” He reached the top of the second-story landing and turned to the right, going down the hall until he got to the last room. A room he knew had a bird’s-eye view of town. And his jail.
She answered his knock right away, her eyes widening when she opened the door. “Sheriff!”
He couldn’t tell if it was surprise or dismay he heard in her voice.
Her hair was down, sliding around her shoulders in a silky curtain of rich brown with a shy touch of red. She recovered, her green eyes cool and unreadable. “You have my fabric.”
“I told Charlie I’d deliver it since I was coming over anyway.” He’d forgotten just how deeply green her eyes were. And how tiny her waist.
She stared at him for a minute. Long enough for her sweet, fresh scent—honeysuckle?—to slide into his lungs. Long enough for him to deduce by the way her lavender skirts clung to her legs that she wasn’t wearing petticoats. At least not more than one. A heat he hadn’t felt in a long time worked its way under his skin.
He cleared his throat. “You want me to put this down somewhere?”
She blinked. “Yes. Sorry. Come in.”
She opened the door wider and he walked inside, noting she left the door open. Which was a good thing seeing as how he had also just determined she wasn’t wearing a corset, either.
“I— You can just put them on the bed.” Her voice was breathy.
Davis Lee walked over to the neatly made bed that was pushed into the far corner of the room. Two lengths of fabric, one white and one calico, were folded