Page 8 of West Wind

When she stepped from behind the blanket she was dressed and her hair had been returned to a tight bun at her nape. She gestured with one hand. “It’s all yours, Mr. Shelley.”

He walked past her as she started up the hill, casually unfastening the first few buttons of his shirt. His eyes never left her face. She’d so looked forward to scrubbing the makeup off. It had been foolish of her to imagine that her escort wouldn’t notice.

“You won’t peek, will you, Mrs. Brown?”

Annabelle refused to look at him. “Of course not.” He continued to watch her from behind the blanket as he finished undressing. The top of the blanket hit him at mid-chest, and as she seated herself on the grassy hill, she stared at his naked torso and the light, curly hair there.

“What if I see a snake or something?” he asked, his face all innocence.

“I imagine you’re perfectly capable of handling another reptile,” she snapped.

He leaned over the blanket, a little. “What do you mean, another reptile?”

“Another reptile like yourself.”

He’d no sooner turned around than he shouted, “Snake! Snake!”

She leaned back against the lush grass and closed her eyes.

“Aren’t you going to save me, Widow Brown?”

She didn’t even open her eyes. “I don’t think you need saving, Mr. Shelley.”

She waited a few minutes before she opened one eye. Shelley hadn’t moved. He watched her with casual arrogance.

“Who told you I was a widow?” she snapped.

“Oscar.”

She leaned back and relaxed. “So you were talking about me before we met?”

“Yep. Oscar told me what a wonderful find you were. I’ll bet he’s mad today. If he ever finds out I took you out of town he’ll never forgive me. There goes my tequila.”

She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort, but snapped it shut without uttering a word.

“I would’ve left, even without you,” she said, her earlier fear gone. “But I wouldn’t have gotten this far. I probably wouldn’t have gotten any farther than the next saloon.”

“About that...” Shelley started speaking, then stopped. She lifted her head to look at him. “Working in a saloon isn’t a good idea. Oscar’s sort of a good guy. Not all saloon owners are like that. Some might try to...” His voice trailed off.

She knew what he meant. She’d worked in more than half a dozen saloons in the past three months. Some places it was impossible for her to stay for more than a few days, even with her baggy dress and her makeup.

“Take your bath.” She returned to her supine position in the grass. “Saloon work is out, now that you’ve thrown out my makeup, you dolt.”

Annabelle lay there, her eyes closed, for several minutes before she heard him splashing in the water. She sat up to loosen her hair and spread it between her hands, rubbing and exposing all she could to the warming ray of the sun.

There in the secluded glade, surrounded by the saplings and lush grass, the pond and Shelley at the center of it all, she felt, for the first time in months, a moment of complete peace. Her thoughts were clear and her heart, while it still beat soundly, had slowed to a reasonable pace. How many times in the past three months had she expected it to come bursting through her chest?

Shelley would deliver her to San Francisco, and Nicky. Nicky would know what to do.

CHAPTER THREE

They camped for the night by the peaceful pond. Shelley built a fire and made a pot of coffee, as he did every night when he was on the trail, and he produced even more dried meat.

“Sorry,” he apologized as he offered the jerky to her, but she smiled as she took it.

He’d avoided looking closely at her all afternoon, had been grateful for her pensive silence as she stared out over the pond and ignored him. He’d managed to steal an occasional glance at his companion, the demure Mrs. Brown. When he’d finished his bath and returned to the camp, he’d found the feisty woman who’d screamed at him gone, replaced by the quiet woman he’d rescued.

Annie was no ordinary woman. He might’ve found her in a saloon, but he’d bet his last dollar she hadn’t spent much of her life in such common places. The way she held her head, her voice, even the way she walked, betrayed a gentle upbringing.