Page 6 of West Wind

Shelley thought about this piece of information as they rode at a leisurely pace. “Just so I’ll know what I’m up against, how many others were there?”

“Three.”

“Three, in addition to the man in Brayton,” he said. “Pinkerton’s?”

Annie looked at the ground. “I think so.”

“What the hell did you do?” There was no real anger in his voice, and more than a little humor.

Her answer held none. “Nothing. I swear, I did nothing.” She was so vehement in her denial that he let it drop.

After a short while she started to squirm in the saddle. She worked to hold her body rigid and away from him, trying not to touch him at all.

“You might as well lean against me,” he suggested. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us, and if you don’t relax your back is gonna hurt like hell tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Her questioning brown eyes were wide as she glanced back at him and sighed, a controlled sigh that told him her back already ached.

“Sure.” He lifted his hat and settled it on her head. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a hat in that bag of yours.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t.”

“We’ll have to get you one, but for now you wear mine.” His hat was several sizes too large for her, but it shaded her eyes from the bright sun. Her fair skin was certain to burn easily.

Annie did lean against his chest, and to his amazement was sound asleep a short time later.

He held her relaxed body, astonished that she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms atop the moving horse. When he was certain she slept soundly, he leaned over just enough so that he could see her face beneath his broad-brimmed hat. After studying the sleeping woman for a few minutes he smiled, a grin coming naturally to his lips.

To confirm his suspicion, he ran his thumb across her cheek. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t wake. His thumb was now brushed with something oily, grainy, and white. Makeup. Not the kind Oscar’s girls wore to make themselves more attractive. No, this makeup had a more sinister use. To disguise, to hide. To hide what? He had a strong urge to scrub her face clean right then and there, but he didn’t want to scare her off. There was a settlement a little more than four hours away. He’d planned to stop there, buy some supplies, maybe spend the night in the boardinghouse. But this discovery called for change of plans. He turned the roan to a northwesterly route.

They’d pass west of the settlement and head directly to a glade, shaded and secluded, where a clear, cold pond waited.

He felt her wake, her body tensing as she practically jumped from the saddle. He held her tight, but for a brief moment she fought him.

“Hold on there, darlin’.” He relaxed his grip when she fell back against his chest. “If you’re gonna sleep in the saddle you’re gonna have to be careful how you wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “It was... I had a bad dream.”

Her face was paler than it had been before, her dark eyes were wide and frightened. She looked as if she’d had an honest-to-God scare. She trembled, slightly but deep. That must have been some dream.

“It’s all right, darlin’.” He tried to soothe her. “You sleep all you want. Just think of me as the sleeping car on the Shelley Railway to San Francisco.”

She smiled, a little. “You’re a nice man, Shelley.”

He tensed. “No, I’m not, and don’t you forget it. This is just a job.” A job I’m beginning to wonder how the hell I got stuck with, he thought, grimacing.

“I know,” she said. “We never discussed... do you want me to pay you half now and the other half when we get to San Francisco?”

“Nah. Hang onto your money. You can pay me once we get there.”

He didn’t give a damn about her thirty dollars. The five-hundred he’d gotten for Erskine was in his saddlebags, and he had another fifty in his pocket. From the looks of her she needed that thirty bucks a lot more than he did. Saving her from that Pinkerton agent had made her, in some way, his responsibility. There was no way he could allow her to set out on her own. She’d never make it.

She was looking straight ahead as he led the roan carefully down the steep hill. Below, the grass was brilliant green, the young trees swayed in the breeze, and the sun reflected off the surface of the pond as if off polished glass, still and sparkling.

“What a beautiful place,” she said, not taking her eyes off the water. “Are we stopping for the day already?” she asked as he lifted her from the roan’s back.

“Might as well. We can eat a bit, get to sleep early, and then leave while there’s still plenty of cool, dark hours to travel. Besides, I never did get that bath I wanted yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” Her expression changed, darkened with distress. “You intend to bathe here?”