“Much obliged.”
She reached suddenly with one hand to the side of his face, letting her finger gently trace the contour of his cheekbone. “Do you really have to leave?”
He hesitated. He needed to get to Baker’s Crossing. He wanted an end to his quest. And yet...and yet..,
She pulled her hand away suddenly, her eyes darting downward. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. You must think me brazen.”
In these times, romance was a thing of subtleties and nuances, never bold or blatant except among those of poor reputation. And yet, here they were, just the two of them. There was no one else here to cast disparaging glances, or whisper behind their backs. He was lonely, God knew. And she probably was, too.
“I don’t think you’re brazen,” he said, and touched a hand to her face. “I think you’re pretty.”
And he drew closer to her, and their lips met.
“Stay,” she said.
“I’ve been riding for weeks,” he said. “I must look like a saddle bum, and smell even worse.”
“We have a bath tub. Enough room for two. The next stage isn’t due until morning. Pa won’t be back until some time after that.”
He liked the sound of that. Very much. He was young, with the needs and wants that come with his age. But there was Baker’s Crossing. Business awaited him there, business he had been waiting to complete for as far back as he could remember. As attractive as he found Haley, and as appealing as he found her suggestion, he could wait no longer to be on his way. It was true he had but a few more miles he could cross before dark, but at least those would be miles he would not have to cross come morning.
“I’ve got to be going,” he said.
She nodded. “I understand.”
Their gazes remained connected for a few moments more, as though by a rope did not want to break, but then he forced himself to turn, and stepped down from the porch. He pulled his horse’s rein free from the rail, and swung into the saddle.
She had followed him onto the porch. She raised one hand in a wave, and he nodded in response, and then touched his heels to the horse’s ribs, and started away at a shambling trot.
Two hundred yards from the way station; he stopped and turned in the saddle to look back. The porch was now deserted. A gust of wind scattered dust against the weathered building.
He shook his head, wondering if he was a complete fool. If Haley was correct, twenty miles of dust and dry brown grass not fit for a mule lay between him and Baker’s Crossing. Suddenly, those miles seemed dreadfully long.
With a pull of the reins, he turned his horse around and kicked it into a gallop that brought him quickly back to the hitching rail in front of the shack. He swung out of the saddle, covered the distance between the rail and the porch in a few quick strides, and rapped on the door.
She opened it with surprise. “Dusty. Is something wrong?”
“Nope. It’s just that, all of a sudden, the thought of that hot bath sounds awfully good, and the company even better.”
TWO
Dusty stretched out on the soft mattress, the covers pulled to his chest. One arm was crooked behind his head, serving as a supplement to his pillow, and the other was around Haley’s shoulders, hugging her gently as she slept. Her head resting on his chest. He liked the feeling of her long hair as it spread wildly over his ribs, and his fingers gently caressed the soft skin of her bare shoulder.
He breathed easily. He was freshly bathed, for the first time since he had left Arizona, and with a beautiful woman in his arms, also for the first time since he had left Arizona. He felt all was right with the world. He was at peace with himself, or at least, as close as he ever came to it.
Haley had been concerned he might think inviting men into her bath and then her bed was common-place for her, but he assured her he could tell by the look in her eye, by the warmth and sincerity of her touch, this such was not the case. Some women give themselves out of a need to somehow compensate for insecurity, forever seeking the touch of a man to convince themselves they are worthy of being loved. Yet the convincing never seems to last long, and they find themselves seeking it again and again. Other women seem to have a stronger emotional foundation, and it is these who give themselves only because they truly care about a man. Haley was of the second group.
Yet, despite this contentment which seemed to originate at the center of his being and radiate outward, he found he could not sleep. Despite the beauty and passion of the woman whose bed he was sharing, he found his thoughts returning to his reason for being in Nevada in the first place. His business in Baker’s Crossing. His business that, once completed, would find him returning to Arizona, and hopefully his old job at the Cantrell Ranch. Though he had to admit, at the moment, he was not so eager to leave Nevada.
Baker’s Crossing. What had the barkeep in that dirty, little mining town said about it? Not much. Haley, as they had talked before she drifted off to sleep, had said it was a small cattle town that served surrounding ranches, all of which managed to avoid bankruptcy because longhorns could survive on the dry, brown grass growing here in the southwest. Though, Dusty had to admit the grass growing about him was some of the worst he had ever seen, and found it difficult to imagine even a longhorn could graze here. Most of the ranches in Nevada were further west, closer
