Casey couldn’t imagine why Luella had been prompted to say all that, unless she wasn’t feeling quite secure in her position. Casey had been too shocked to reply immediately, then lost her chance when Luella sashayed off to rejoin Damian for the quick meal, and Casey wasn’t about to make a scene.
That had been yesterday. But now that they’d reached the large town of Fort Worth, still named after the military post that had started it, Casey was going to make sure that she’d seen the last of Luella Miller.
The lady had talked Damian into escorting her to her uncle’s house, but Casey said her good-byes there at the station and went off to see to the horses. She then checked into a cheap hotel, since she didn’t know how long it was going to take her to ferret out some information on Henry Curruthers in a town this size.
By the time Damian found her that evening in the small hotel restaurant where she was dining alone, she already had good news, which she had planned to tell him in the morning. She hadn’t expected to see him tonight, having figured he’d be dining with his ladylove.
“Why are you staying here?” was the first thing he asked when he came up to her table.
“Because it’s cheap.”
He shook his head. “Must I remind you again that I’m paying all expenses?”
“One bed’s as good as another, Damian,” she pointed out. “I’ll do fine here.”
“There is an excellent hotel just down the street, where I’ve already paid for a room for you.”
“So get a refund,” she promptly replied, continuing to eat her meal. “And what are you doing here anyway? Didn’t Luella offer you dinner?”
He sighed and sat down next to her. “She did, but I declined. Quite frankly, I couldn’t bear to sit through another night of her incessant chatter.”
Casey almost choked on the piece of steak she was chewing. Damian pounded on her back to help with the coughing. Red-faced, she snarled, “You’re breaking my bones.”
“Sorry,” he said. He looked disgruntled, probably because she hadn’t been very appreciative of his help. Then he asked, “Is the food any good here?”
“No, but it’s cheap.”
He stared at her for a moment before he burst out laughing. “What is it with you and everything needing to be cheap? I know you make good money in your line of business. You have to, as dangerous as it is.”
“Sure I do, but I won’t have much to show for it when I retire if I go splurging what I make all over the place, now will I?”
He gave her a curious look. “That sounds like you plan to retire soon.”
“I do.”
“To do what?”
“To go home.”
“I suppose to get married and raise little cowboys?” he asked.
She ignored his sarcastic tone. “No, to run the ranch I inherited.”
He was clearly surprised.
“Where is this ranch?”
“That’s hardly important, Damian.”
“So tell me anyway.”
“No.”
His frown was telling. He didn’t like that flat refusal one little bit and didn’t want to drop the subject.
“Your man Curruthers headed south from here,” Casey remarked nonchalantly. “San Antonio was mentioned, but not as a final destination.”
Incredulous, he asked her, “How did you find that out already?”
“I paid a visit to all the stables in town.”
“Why?”
“Because if he didn’t leave town by train, and your detectives say he didn’t, then he had to have bought himself a horse. And his description is distinctive enough to be remembered, which he was.”
“You’d think those detectives would have found that out,” Damian grumbled.
“That was a matter of rotten luck. The fellow who sold him the horse took off the next day to visit his mother in New Mexico. He was gone for over a month, which is why your detectives came up dry.”
Damian shook his head, smiling. “And here I thought we would be here a week at least.”
Casey shrugged. “So did I. Too bad. Now you’ll have to cut your courting short—or reconsider letting me finish this job alone.”
“Not a chance,” Damian said, seemingly little concerned about leaving his ladylove behind. “I told you, I have to be there to be sure you find him. I want to confront him face-to-face. Now, did you learn anything else?”
“Well, he bought a piebald, which is about as easy to spot as he is,” she said pointedly.
He chose to ignore that comment. “You’re talking about a horse?”
“Yes. He was also asking about any new towns in the area just starting up. When Mr. Melton, the horse trader, asked him why, Curruthers laughed and told him he felt like owning his own town. Melton figured that idea was pretty grandiose for such a little runt—his words—but he steered him south, where the Southern Pacific Railroad is causing towns to sprout along its long route and offshoots.”
“So what is your plan?”
“We’ll head down to San Antonio and continue the search from there. It’s pretty settled to the east of there, so my guess is he would have headed west if he really is looking for a new town. But we should be able to find someone to confirm that in San Antonio.”
“Does the train connect to San Antonio?”
“Yes—unfortunately.”
He smiled at her sour tone. “Admit it, Casey. The parlor car is comfortable.”
She wasn’t going to admit any such thing. “The train isn’t wasting any time catching up with its schedule. It leaves bright and early in the morning, so if you’ve got some good-byes to make, you don’t have much time left to make them.”
“Actually, I’m pretty hungry,” Damian said and called the waitress over. “Bring me what sh—” He stopped his order to cough before correcting himself. “What he’s having.”
Casey still glared at him for the near blunder and warned, “This isn’t going to give you much time to let Luella know you’re leaving town.”
He leaned over to pat her arm condescendingly. “Playing matchmaker doesn’t suit you, Casey, so why don’t you let me worry about my love life?”
Matchmaker? She would have spluttered if she’d tried to say anything just then, so she didn’t try. But the look she gave him should have fried him on the spot.
Chapter 21
On the way to the train station the next morning, Casey had an unpleasant shock. Riding down the middle of the street, dust-covered, with a scraggly beard, was her father. He looked like he had just ridden in off the plains. Casey wasn’t about to ask to make sure.
Without a word of explanation to Damian, who was walking his horse beside hers, she headed quickly into the nearest alley and plastered herself against the wall there, praying Chandos hadn’t seen her or, worse, Old Sam, whom he would easily recognize. Damian followed her, of course.
But he merely asked, albeit with raised brow, “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” she grumbled.
“Hiding, though I can’t imagine why.”
She peered around him, but Chandos was taking his sweet time riding down the street. He hadn’t passed the alley yet. She pulled Old Sam’s head down to hide him as best she could. Damian, still waiting for her to answer, sighed.
“Don’t we have a train to catch?”
“We’ll get there in time.”
Damian glanced out into the street himself now, but found nothing out of the ordinary—no familiar faces from Wanted posters—and gave Casey an impatient look. “Explain yourself.”
“My father just rode into town—and don’t look again, you’ll draw his attention.”
Nothing could have stopped Damian from glancing out again. There were several men riding down the street. One appeared to be a businessman. One looked like a desperado who’d rather not run into any lawmen. Another was wearing chaps and leading two steers along. Only two appeared old enough to be Casey’s father, so Damian looked at the business
man a bit closer.
“He doesn’t look very intimidating to me, certainly not enough to send you running,” Damian remarked and got a snort in reply, which prompted a question. “Why don’t you want him to find you, Casey?”
“Because he’ll drag me home before I’m ready, that’s why. And believe me, Damian, my father is about as formidable as they come. You don’t want to cross paths with him.”
Damian looked at the businessman again and frowned; then his eyes went back to the desperado, noting now the black hair, the high cheekbones, and other things that could be said to resemble Casey. Damian’s eyes widened.
“Hell, that’s your father? The one who looks like an outlaw?”
“He looks like no such thing,” she grumbled. “But yes, that’s him. And stop staring! He can sense someone staring at him.”
“How?”
“Hell if I know, but he can.”
“Do you think he knows you’re here in town?”
“There’s no way he could, unless he guessed I was on the train and followed it here. But that’s not likely, since you’ve been buying the tickets. You’ve also been taking care of the hotels we’ve stayed in, so he had no trail to follow.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t mention this, but your rooms have been in your name, Casey.”
“What?!”
He flinched. “Well, not exactly your name, but your initials.”
“You couldn’t make up a name?”
“Why? You told me you’ve been using those initials yourself.”
“Only when I have to, and only when I turn over wanted men to the authorities. My father isn’t likely to go sifting through every sheriff’s office he comes across, but he is likely to be checking with every hotel and boardinghouse.”
“So those are your real initials?”
“No, but they’re initials he’d notice right off,” Casey explained.
“They’re his?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
“You ask too many questions, Damian. And my father has passed us by. I’m getting on that train pronto. Think you can get the horses boarded without drawing too much attention to Old Sam?”
“He’d recognize your horse, too?”
“Of course he would. He gave him to me.”
Casey headed to the train station, at a much quicker pace than before. She didn’t hold much hope that she’d get out of Fort Worth without having to face her father, but she did. The train left on time, and without Chandos barging into the parlor car for a major confrontation.
That had been a close call, but only a coincidence after all. Nothing more than that—at least she kept trying to convince herself of it all the way to San Antonio.
But just to see if she could prevent it from happening again, she sent off a telegraph to her mother that read: “If you can, call off the hunt. I’ll be home soon now.”
As for her job and getting it finished, there were no easy clues to find in San Antonio. In fact, the trail, such as it was, ended. If Curruthers had taken the train from there, the depot clerks sure had no memory of it. But Casey was betting he had headed west on the Southern Pacific—if he really was looking for a new town to settle in. They wouldn’t find that out, though, without following the same route.
Damian, of course, arranged to have his fancy parlor car transferred to the new train. Actually, Casey was getting used to the comfort of it and just complained now on general principles. And with half the stops being made at depots that did no more than feed you, they started doing a lot of sleeping in that car—at least Casey did, until the night she woke up and found Damian leaning over her.
Chapter 22
Casey had been sleeping on one of the thickly upholstered benches in the parlor car. It was narrow, but much softer than some beds she’d been in lately. She had also been dreaming about Damian, which was probably why she was in no hurry to wake up.
It was a pleasant dream. There was a party at the K.C., and they were dancing together. She hadn’t wondered what Damian was doing in her home—it had seemed perfectly natural for him to be there. Even her parents had treated him like they were used to seeing him around. And then suddenly he was kissing her right there in the middle of a dozen dancing couples, but no one seemed to notice. And it was like that other time, only this kiss didn’t end.
All those feelings he had stirred in her before rose up again, but in her relaxed state they were even more intense. And this kiss wasn’t only longer but deeper. He was using his tongue quite extensively to explore the recesses of her mouth. He would suck on her lower lip as well, as if he meant to keep it. And she could feel his hands caressing her, but not on her back where they should be. Strange.
She wasn’t sure why she finally woke up to the fact that the kissing part, at least, wasn’t a dream. Perhaps it was the shock of Damian’s hand gently kneading her breast. There was something too intensely pleasurable about that for Casey to remain relaxed or asleep.
Then her whole body stiffened with the full realization that Damian was actually kneeling there beside her bench with his hands and lips on her. She tried to think of an explanation for it, but her mind wouldn’t work properly.
All she could think to say was, “Damian, what are you doing?”
She had to repeat the question three times before he finally leaned back to look at her. From the dim light of the single wall lamp that had been left on, she could see that he appeared somewhat confused.
But that was nothing compared to her confusion when he replied, “What are you doing in my bed?”
“What bed? There’re no beds around here, just these benches big enough to fit only one person,” she said emphatically. “And you’re on my side of the car, Damian.”
He glanced around him then, couldn’t help but see that she had stated the case correctly, and said, “Well, damn, that was quite a dream.”
Casey blinked. She’d just been having a dream about him that had been too nice by half, so she had to allow that he might have been experiencing something similar. Not necessarily about her. In fact, more likely his dream had been about Luella.
Yet her eyes still narrowed. “Do you always get physically involved in your dreams?”
“Not that I was ever aware of—until now. Did I—that is, do I owe you an apology?”
Apologize for giving her some serious pleasure? But then, he didn’t know what he’d made her feel, did he? How could he? She hadn’t made any sounds or movements to indicate how much she’d liked what he was doing—had she?
Actually, she had no idea how much she had participated in what he’d been doing, for she’d been too involved with…feeling to take notice. He hadn’t been awake, though, so even if she had given herself away as to how much she’d liked his kissing, he wouldn’t have realized it.
“It don’t make me no nevermind if you walk about and do things in your dreams, Damian. Just try to keep any active involvement to your side of the room.”
“Certainly,” he replied. A long pause followed. “Although I sense that this was nice.”
She blushed clear to her booted toes. But with the dim lighting, he probably didn’t notice her embarrassment. And he still must have had “nice” on his mind, considering what he remarked next.
“Would you perhaps like to see what I mean?”
She already knew what he meant. What he was suggesting was that they continue kissing, and he was leaving the decision of whether to do so up to her. Damn, the temptation was incredible. And this time it wouldn’t be Luella he was dreaming of kissing. He knew exactly whose lips would be surrendering to his.
She didn’t dare say yes. If he had just kissed her again, without asking, she probably wouldn’t have objected. But by asking, he was making her admit she wanted him to kiss her, and she couldn’t do that and still maintain that she wasn’t interested in him. She still wanted to maintain that impression. She had to.
Damn him, what’d he have to ask for? But it was just as well.
They were getting closer to the time of parting, heading their separate ways. It was going to be hard enough saying good-bye to him this second time. A shared intimacy would make it even worse.
So before she changed her mind, she said, “What I’d like is to get back to sleep, Damian. I’d suggest you do the same—and keep your dreams to yourself.”
Was that a sigh she heard? Probably not.
He nodded and stood up. However, he seemed to hesitate before he turned his back on her, a long enough pause to make her tense in anticipation. But then he went back to the chair he usually slept in—the benches were a mite short for his long frame—and made a big production of getting comfortable. There was some definite sighing now.
Casey turned over to face the wall, wondering how she’d ever get back to sleep.
Chapter 23
Casey was in the habit of asking around, in each stop the train made, to see if folks remembered someone of Curruthers’s description passing through. But it was starting to seem pretty pointless, and in fact, just when Damian was beginning to think they were wasting their time following the Southern Pacific west across the lower half of Texas, she came up with a positive response.
Since Damian had two hours to kill while waiting for the train to move on, he had followed Casey around that day while she did her questioning. When she approached the town barber, though, he figured she was really pulling at straws. Yet the barber remembered Henry.
After Damian had given it some thought, he recalled how meticulously neat Henry had always been about his appearance. Just because the man was on the run didn’t mean he’d suddenly get sloppy, so a barber was a likely candidate to have dealt with him.
This particular barber was the sort that kept up a running conversation while he worked on his customers, and he’d managed to get Henry to talking. One of the things he remembered Henry asking about was when this town was due for its next elections, and whether the people were happy with their current mayor or not.