Chasing Rainbows Page 13

  She shuddered, trying to picture Jake in the middle of all that. But try as she might, she couldn’t see him as a soldier, dressed in butternut and obeying orders, dodging bullets and cannon fire. It didn’t fit anything she knew about him, or thought she knew about him. “How’d you do?” she asked.

  Jake arched a dark brow, a small smile playing about his lips. “We lost.”

  “I’m sure nobody blames you for that,” she blurted out, feeling a strange and sudden urge to comfort him.

  He looked momentarily startled, then he grinned. “Not for the entire war, no.”

  “So what was it like?”

  “The war?” he asked. At her nod, he thought for a long moment. “As close to hell as I ever want to get. Fleas and mud, blood and dysentery, everywhere. Sweltering heat in the summer, icy cold in the winter. Long months of unending tedium and boredom, punctuated by occasional bursts of sheer terror. And the food, hell, that had to be the worst food I ever ate in my life” — he paused, smiling as he finished — “and there was never enough of it.”

  “Where did you fight?”

  “Virginia and the Carolinas, generally. I was cavalry, and we spent most of the war in our saddles.”

  “Why is it that every Southerner I meet claims to have ridden in the cavalry?”

  Jake’s smile took on a contented glow. “Because we were the best, darlin’. We were the best.”

  Annie studied him in thoughtful silence, realizing how little she truly knew about Jake Moran. Up until that very moment, all she had known about him — all she had thought there was to know — was that he was a gambler, that he was good with his gun, and that maybe he drank too much. Now that those small truths had been expanded, she found herself strangely eager to learn more. “What was the South like before the war?” she asked.

  Jake frowned while he thought. “Rich and lush, coarse and ugly.”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them.” He shook his head, sighing. “The South was like a temptress, darlin’, one that was full of false promises. Like a beautiful woman that a man eagerly strips bare, only to find her body dirty and bruised beneath the silk and satin of her magnificent gown.”

  “Are you talking about slavery?”

  “I suppose. It should have been abolished years ago.”

  “But you still fought for the South? I don’t understand.”

  “You ever read the Constitution, darlin’? The men who wrote that gave powers to the states so that men could rule themselves; so that men could run their own governments, their own homes. The people in the South are good, moral people — the same as people in the West, the North, or anywhere else. Given time, they would have come to their own decision to outlaw slavery. But the fundamental question was to allow each state the right to come to that decision on its own terms.”

  Annie listened but couldn’t quite accept his reasoning. “It seems to me that we oughta stay together, that folks can’t be running out of the Union just because one state doesn’t like what the other states are telling them to do.”

  Jake nodded. “Preserving the Union versus states rights. That little argument is exactly why we fought the war.” He touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Congratulations, darlin’, you won.”

  There was a weary bitterness to his tone that she hadn’t heard before. She wanted to ask more, but the front door swung open behind them before she had a chance. A man who Annie presumed to be Sam, the owner, stepped inside. He was short and stocky, his features fixed in an expression of sour belligerence. A tall, thin woman dressed in a worn black gown followed him. Her face looked haughty and grim, as though life was constantly failing to meet her impeccable standards. They came to a dead stop in the middle of the room as they spotted Jake and Annie comfortably stretched out before the stove. The owner looked them over and let out a weary sigh while his wife’s mouth tightened in an expression that was even more pinched and disapproving.

  “You two will want a room, I suppose,” the innkeeper stated despondently, as though that were tragic news.

  Annie couldn’t entirely blame them for their reaction. With their sodden, mud-caked clothing, she and Jake looked like a couple of stray mutts who had been left out in the rain for too long.

  Jake stood. “Two rooms,” he said.

  The innkeeper had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes. Jake’s presence once again commanded authority, despite his ratty attire.

  “You want them by the week or by the day?” the innkeeper demanded.

  “The day,” Jake answered.

  “That’ll be eighty cents a night for a room, in advance, twenty cents extra for a bath.”

  “Fine. Two rooms, and a bath for both of us. The water will be hot, I assume?”

  “Two cents extra a bucket for hot. How many buckets you want?”

  “None,” Annie answered immediately.

  “Five each,” Jake replied.

  To Annie’s surprise, the owner didn’t wrangle over the price of towels and soap but simply passed them over. His wife looked Annie up and down, then leaned over and whispered something in her husband’s ear. Sam’s eyes narrowed as his gaze shot toward Cat. “If you’re planning on bringing that mangy beast upstairs, you had better think again. We run a dignified establishment here and don’t allow no—”

  “The cat stays,” Jake interrupted firmly. He reached for their saddlebags and tossed them over his shoulder. “Fetch someone over from the stables,” he instructed Sam. “I want our horses brushed, fed, and bedded down for the night.” He pulled out a five-dollar bill and set it on the counter. “That ought to cover everything.”

  Annie opened her mouth to protest the exorbitant fee, but the owner snatched up the bill and pocketed it before she could utter a word.

  “Your rooms are upstairs, first two doors on the left,” he said with a greedy smile, pushing the keys across the counter.

  Jake picked up the keys and tipped his hat. “Pleasure doing business with you, Sam.”

  Annie followed him upstairs, wondering if the man had ever found himself in a situation he couldn’t handle. Whether Jake was aware of it or not, he exuded an air of steely-eyed confidence and natural assurance that worked to his advantage as much as his build and the set of revolvers strapped to his hips. Annie had recognized it the first time she had set eyes on him in Sheriff Cayne’s office, and clearly it was just as apparent to everyone else around them. Not once had she seen that cool determination of his fail, whether he was facing down a gang of deadly bandits, a cheating opponent across a poker table, or a surly innkeeper.

  She took her key from Jake and opened the door to her room. It was just as spartan as she expected it to be, equipped with nothing but the basics. A narrow bed, a pitcher and basin, a chest of drawers with a looking glass, bare floors, and limp muslin curtains completed the space. A smoky kerosene lamp cast melancholy shadows across the room. Annie plopped down on the bed, noting as she did that the mattress was lumpy and emitted a peculiar pungent yet musty odor. She wrinkled her nose and studied the walls as she waited for her hot water. A cheap print of Jesus looking infinitely sad stared back at her, the room’s only adornment.

  Through the wall that separated their rooms, she heard Jake moving around. She recognized the sound of his boots as they scraped the floor. Then came the sound of something soft — his jacket? — being tossed across a dresser. A heavier object — his guns? — immediately followed. The bed springs groaned as he sat down. He was probably undressing, she guessed. She imagined him tugging off his boots, his coat, his shirt, his pants…

  She sprang to her feet, evoking a howl of protest from Cat as the animal was dumped unceremoniously on the floor. The walls were too damned thin, Annie noted crossly, blaming her errant thoughts on the hotel’s shoddy construction. She paced restlessly around the room, randomly picking up objects and setting them back down, doing anything she could to distract herself.

  Within minutes, she heard a knock next door and the sound
of buckets being dragged into Jake’s room. The hot water for his bath, she surmised. She heard the sound of water splashing into a tub, followed by the deep, authoritative ring of his voice as he gave instructions to the men who carried the buckets.

  Next came a sharp rap at her door. Annie raced to open it, gladly welcoming the distraction. The innkeeper and a young assistant gave her a curt nod in greeting and began lugging in buckets of hot water. They filled the tub and left.

  Sam reappeared seconds later, a heavy clay dish in his hands. “Where do you want it?” he asked gruffly.

  “That depends.” She looked at the dish. “What is it?”

  “Cream. The fella next door said I was to bring it for your pet.”

  Annie bit back a smile and gestured to a corner of the room. “I reckon right there ought be just fine.”

  Sam set it down where she instructed, then left the room. Annie watched Cat greedily slurp up the cream, touched by Jake’s thoughtfulness. Her eyes went next to the steaming tub of water that was waiting for her. She moved eagerly toward it, unable to remember the last time she’d had a real, honest-to-goodness, all-over bath. Setting her towel and soap on a stool beside the tub, she immediately stripped and sank into its luxurious warmth. She scrubbed and soaked, letting out a blissful sigh of pure contentment.

  As she leaned back and closed her eyes, she heard the sound of soft splashing coming from next door. The image of Jake sitting naked in his bath instantly lodged itself in her mind. She lifted her arm and gently rubbed the soap over her skin, imagining him doing the same thing. The jaunty sound of “Camptown Ladies,” sung rather than whistled, carried through the wall. Jake’s voice was surprisingly good, she noted, low and soothing. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes once again, enjoying the steady, lulling rhythm of his voice.

  After a minute, her thoughts began to wander. Was his tub the same size as hers? she wondered absently. It was perfectly snug and cozy for her, but wouldn’t he be a little crowded? Perhaps he managed it by keeping his arms and knees out of the tub, or by sitting up straight rather than lying back. Was he all slick and soapy, or had he already rinsed off? And what about his skin? Was it bronzed from the sun everywhere, or —

  Annie dunked her head underwater, mentally cursing herself. She had doctored the boys for years and seen them in various states of undress, but not once had they stirred her senses the way Jake Moran did. Nor did he make her feel cold and itchy all over when he looked at her, the way Snakeskin Garvey did. When Jake Moran looked at her, she just felt warm and fluttery inside. But oddly enough, she didn’t mind it at all.

  Searching for a distraction from her thoughts, she splashed water over the side of the tub and watched as Cat chased the bubbles across the wooden floor. Cat darted playfully around the room, immediately intrigued by the new game. Then she hit a slick spot and skidded across floor, landing with a dull thud against the wall that separated Annie’s room from Jake’s.

  Jake’s singing abruptly stopped. “You all right in there?”

  Annie ducked down into the water until it reached her chin. It was silly, but she couldn’t help it. She knew he couldn’t see anything, but the idea of talking to Jake while he was completely naked — while he knew she was completely naked — didn’t hold much appeal. “Fine,” she called back.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Cat slid into the wall.”

  “You still in the tub?”

  “None of your damned business.”

  She heard Jake’s low rumble of laughter from the other side, followed by soft splashing sounds as he resumed his bath.

  Annie listened for a moment longer, then stepped gingerly from the tub, careful not to slip on the slick wooden floor. She padded across the room and lifted her clothing from her saddlebags, wishing she had time to wash the garments Jake had bought her. Resigning herself to wait and wash her clothing after their meal, she slipped into her old flannels and denims. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, twisted it into a knot, and tucked it under her battered felt hat. Finally she grabbed her holster from the bedpost and slung it low across her hips, then stepped into her boots.

  She straightened and turned, catching a glimpse of herself in a looking glass as she did. The glass was foggy and of poor quality, but it confirmed what Annie had begun to suspect. She hadn’t paid much attention to her appearance for the past few years and it showed. No wonder the miners hadn’t been able to tell she was a woman. She looked about as feminine and desirable as a desert hen with feather molt. Well, she thought, there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

  Jake’s knock came just minutes later. She opened the door to find him looking crisp and clean, and even more unbearably handsome than usual. His hair was wet from his bath and curled up at his collar, the smell of soap and shaving tome clung to his skin. His long legs were encased in snugly fitted black pants, and his black boots were perfectly polished to a high, glistening sheen. He wore a matching, finely tailored black jacket, a crisp white linen shirt, a silk brocade vest of deep cobalt blue, and a silky black string tie knotted beneath his chin. The lines of the garments, simple yet elegant, suited him perfectly.

  Annie became even more painfully aware of the poor assortment of rags that she had tossed over her own shoulders. Not knowing what else to do or say, she cleared her throat, immediately assuming the offensive. “’Bout time you showed up,” she said, stepping out into the hall to join him. “I was near starving to death.”

  Jake grinned. “I take it that means you’re ready.”

  “Don’t I look ready?” she bristled.

  “You always look ready, darlin’,” he agreed, wisely choosing to refrain from commenting on her attire.

  The town’s regular restaurant was closed due to the late hour, but the cafe adjoining the saloon appeared to be doing a booming business. The food was simple, served steaming hot and in generous portions. They each ordered a thick steak, cooked tender and dripping in its own juices, heaping mounds of fried potatoes and onions, stewed green beans, crisp corn dodgers, and hot coffee. Jake topped his meal off with a thick slice of apple pie. As tasty as the pie looked, Annie was too full to manage another bite and regretfully declined.

  As their meal ended, they settled contentedly back into their chairs, relaxed and satiated, neither one ready to return to the hotel. Boisterous shouts and laughter from the saloon drifted in toward them, accompanied by the tinny sound of a badly tuned piano and the high-pitched laughter of the barmaids.

  Their waitress sashayed toward them with a pot of coffee in her hand. Her face was pretty, Annie thought, but hard. Generous spots of rouge caked her lips and cheeks, and her skin was buried beneath a thick layer of powder. She gave Jake a coyly flirtatious smile and bent to refill his coffee cup. The woman’s top was so low cut, Annie was surprised that her bosoms didn’t spill over into the cup along with the coffee.

  Ignoring her presence entirely, the waitress straightened and gave Jake a look that was rich with invitation. “You see anything else you want?” she cooed.

  “I don’t suppose you could rustle up a whiskey for me?”

  “Is that all you want?”

  He smiled — pleasantly, Annie noted, but coolly. “It all looks mighty good, sweetheart. But I think that’s about all I can handle right now.”

  The woman’s lips pulled down in a thick pout. “You let me know if you change your mind.”

  As she watched her walk away, Annie couldn’t help but feel a slight stirring of jealousy at the way the woman had handled herself. There were certain kinds of women who could play up to men just fine, but Annie doubted that she would ever be one of them. While that knowledge had never bothered her before, it was beginning to rub her as raw as a prickly pear caught between her saddle and her britches.

  “You liked her, didn’t you, mister?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

  An expression of surprised amusement flashed across Jake’s face. “What makes you say that?”
>
  “Why wouldn’t you? I reckon any man would take to a gal who comes siding up to him with her tail up in the air, acting as slick and frolicky as a rain-soaked filly in a bed of fresh grass.”

  His grin widened. “Maybe I’m a little more discriminating than that. Maybe I don’t want just any rain-soaked filly.”

  They fell silent as the waitress returned and set down his whiskey. Jake nodded his thanks and took a sip, his eyes never leaving Annie. As the waitress sashayed away, he asked, “Would it bother you if I did like her?”

  Just like that, he had the drop on her. Annie suddenly felt as though she were standing on the precipice of a great, gaping canyon. One wrong word would send her plummeting over the edge. Faced with a question too complicated to answer, she simply shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I reckon it wouldn’t matter to me one way or another.”

  “I see.” His gray eyes drifted over her like smoke. “What about you, Annie? Do men instantly fall under the spell of your beauty?”

  Until that point, she had been enjoying their light banter, but her enjoyment immediately came crashing to an end. Unaccountably hurt by his teasing, she lowered her gaze to examine the edge of the table. “Ain’t no call to get nasty.”

  “I meant that sincerely.”

  She slowly raised her gaze to meet his. Although she wanted to believe him, the cold, hard truth of the matter was impossible to ignore. “There’s a looking glass in my room, mister. I look like something that fell off the back of a rag cart.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Annie. I’m surprised no one’s told you that before.”

  She shook her head. “My mother was beautiful,” she said after a moment. “But I don’t reckon I look anything like her.”

  “What was she like?”

  Relieved to have the subject shift off her looks and move on to a less painful topic, Annie thought for a moment, searching her mind for the distant memories. “Fine and proper. Always telling Hannah and me to mind our manners and act like little ladies. She had the softest voice, and an even softer laugh. She wore fancy, swishy gowns in all the colors of the rainbow, and when she walked, it was like she was floating across the room.”