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  “Hold on there,” Alberta said, a small tremor in her husky voice. “I was just gettin’ worried. It’s near to noon, and there ain’t been a peep from this room.”

  Catalina didn’t lower the weapon, but rested her thumb on the hammer. She didn’t trust Alberta as far as she could throw the substantial woman. With good reason. Jackson had been right about the third key.

  The bed shifted, and behind her Jackson took a deep, waking breath. A slow hand snaked over her side and rested on her wrist, and Catalina expected Jackson to take the six-shooter from her. But all he did was gently move her thumb from the hammer.

  “Double-action, darlin’,” he said calmly, sleepily. “All you have to do is pull the trigger.”

  “I was worried about you two, that’s all,” Alberta said breathlessly. Her hand remained on the doorknob, and her eyes hadn’t left the bed.

  Alberta tried to take another step back, but Jackson stopped her with a softly spoken, “Not just yet, Alberta.”

  His hand moved slowly away from Catalina’s wrist, his fingers trailing along her arm. “The key,” Jackson said idly. “Leave it on the dresser.”

  Alberta stepped quickly to do as he ordered, and then returned to the open door. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” Catalina said before Jackson could send the woman on her way. “A plate of biscuits and honey, and a pot of coffee. And a hot bath.”

  “Another one?” Alberta snapped, and then she pursed her lips tightly. “Anything else?”

  Catalina hesitated, enjoying watching Alberta in a weakened position. Of course, she could never actually shoot anyone, not even the madam who had auctioned her off like an animal. But Alberta didn’t know that.

  “I guess not,” Catalina said as she rose slowly from the bed, the gun still trained on the doorway. Alberta shut the door quickly, and only then did Catalina allow her arms to drop.

  She took the third key from the dresser and locked the door, and then she turned to face Jackson.

  He fell back onto the bed with a groan and covered his eyes with both hands. “Thunderation, what have I done?”

  Catalina replaced the key and returned to the bed with the heavy weapon hanging at her side. “What have you done?”

  “I don’t drink,” he mumbled.

  Catalina slid the Colt into the holster and sat on the side of the bed. He really did look awful — paler than usual and oddly unfocused for Kid Creede.

  “Well,” she drawled, “last night you certainly did.”

  Jackson lifted a hand slightly and glared at her with one bloodshot eye.

  “Poor baby,” Catalina cooed.

  One more day. She should have no trouble keeping Jackson off the street for today, as miserable as he was. But tomorrow morning, before the sun was up, she would go. And she could only pray that Jackson would be right behind her. He didn’t deserve to die like that … the way the history book said he’d die. He deserved another chance.

  “You know … ” Catalina leaned over his outstretched body. He was covering both eyes again, shutting out the light, or the sight of her, or both. “It’s not too late for you to start over.”

  She thought for a moment that he hadn’t heard her, or else he was going to ignore her completely. The hands didn’t move, and his breathing didn’t change. He took long, deep breaths, even and almost meditative.

  “This is a huge country. You said yourself that few people know Jackson Cady is Kid Creede. Think of it, Jackson. You could go back east, or to the northwest. Even to Canada.”

  “Shut up, Catalina,” he grumbled.

  “No.” She leaned forward so her face was just above his. “It’s a good idea. Think about it… .”

  Jackson shook his head slowly. “For God’s sake, leave me alone. What makes you think I want to change my life? I like things just the way they are. Men respect me. Women love me. I make good money… .”

  Catalina grabbed his wrist and pulled the palm away so she could peer into one eye. “Men fear you. Whores love you. And money never made anyone happy.”

  She stared into one pale blue bloodshot eye for a long, silent moment, and then he turned the tables on her. Jackson broke free of her tenuous grasp, grabbed her, and flipped both of them so that her back was flat against the mattress and he was pressed against her from chest to ankle.

  “Are you a whore, Catalina?” he rasped. There was a chill in his voice and a look in his eyes that frightened her.

  “You know I’m not.”

  Jackson ignored her and lowered his head to her neck. His lips were harsh as they trailed from just beneath her ear down to her shoulder. “Are you sure, Cat?”

  There was nothing between her breasts and his bare chest but the thin nightgown. She could feel the beat of his heart, the heat of his skin next to hers.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t love you. She wanted to say those words aloud, but she didn’t dare. Tomorrow morning she would be gone, and she would probably never see Jackson Cady again.

  She took his head between her hands and pulled his lips away from her skin. Those pale eyes stared down at her, the blue as clear as a spring sky unbroken by clouds. This morning those perfect eyes were marred with a sprinkling of red veins, and dark circles that she’d not seen before.

  Catalina pulled his face to hers, and put her mouth against his. He resisted for a moment, and then she felt his lips relax, soften, molding to her own lips — against his will, she was certain. Her hands slipped to the back of his head, to tangle in his hair, to hold him so he couldn’t pull away. She parted her lips and brushed her tongue against his lower lip, lightly, no more than a whisper of a touch.

  They could have today. If they had nothing else, they could have today. To remember, to treasure.

  But Jackson pulled away from her abruptly and leapt from the bed. “You’ll be the death of me yet,” he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair.

  Catalina didn’t move. She couldn’t have even if she’d wanted to. “You don’t have to walk away, Jackson.” Those were such hard words to say. His kisses told her that he wanted her, but he’d made a point of steering clear. She knew he preferred more experienced women, like that tramp Juanita, but she could almost swear that he wanted her.

  “Yes, I do,” he answered her crisply, turning away and leaving her aching and brokenhearted on the bed. “I told you before, I don’t bed virgins.”

  Catalina stood at the foot of the bed and chewed her bottom lip as she looked down at the sleeping Jackson. What if he recovered too quickly? He did everything else very efficiently, and she could only assume that efficiency would include recuperation.

  They’d had their baths, even though Jackson had to be prodded. He’d just had a bath, he insisted. But Catalina had explained to him Grandma Lane’s first step to recovery from anything, including a hangover: a nice hot bath. A few deep breaths. Close your eyes and think of your favorite place. It had been her cure for almost everything, from a headache to a sprained ankle to the simple anguish of a bad day.

  He’d insisted Catalina bathe first, and she’d done so quickly so the water would still be warm for Jackson. He’d waited on the balcony until she called him, and even then he’d hesitated, sticking his head into the room first. Had he expected to find her standing there stark naked? Had he expected that she would try to seduce him, even after he had rejected her?

  Of course, she had waited on the balcony for Jackson to finish his bath. Once in, he must have decided he liked Grandma Lane’s cure after all, because he took an awfully long bath.

  And then he had stretched out on the bed fully dressed and gone to sleep, one arm flung over his eyes.

  He stirred, just a little. A knee was raised and lowered slowly, and then he turned onto his side. What if he woke up and decided to leave the room? How could she stop him?

  Catalina paced at the end of the bed, silent in her wool-stockinged feet.

  “Would you please be still?” he muttered.

  Catalina stopp
ed in her tracks and stared down at Jackson. His eyes remained closed and his wide mouth was set in a frown that looked almost … painful.

  “Thank you,” he grumbled.

  Placing her hands on the footboard, Catalina made herself be still. Jackson rolled onto his back and opened his eyes slowly, to no more than narrow slits.

  “How did you do it?” he grumbled.

  Catalina leaned forward slightly. “How did I do what?”

  With the heels of his hands digging into the mattress, Jackson pushed himself into a sitting position. “You know … when you tossed Harold Goodman over your shoulder.”

  “And you.” Catalina added with a smile.

  “And me.”

  “It’s really just a matter of balance and leverage. Center of gravity and all that. Judo,” she clarified. “Kim and I took a class in self-defense at the Y.”

  Jackson ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing back the black mass. It was then that Catalina saw the widow’s peak and — she was almost certain — a small streak of white at his right temple.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m not even going to ask who Kim is, or where the Y is … or what the Y is. I don’t even know why I asked. It’s just that I was having this dream … ”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Rotten.”

  Catalina was almost happy that he felt rotten. Surely he wouldn’t leave the room now. “Maybe you should go back to sleep.”

  Jackson was shaking his head before she’d even finished the sentence.

  “You’ll feel much better tomorrow if you rest all day today,” Catalina said as cheerfully as she could. Her answer was a glare as biting as any insult.

  “I can’t possibly get any rest with you making so much damned noise.”

  “What noise?”

  “Those damned skirts make more racket than anything I’ve ever heard. Swishing and crinkling or something, like somebody’s dragging a burr across my brain. You have a step as graceful as a buffalo, and just as light.”

  Catalina’s mouth dropped open, and then she clamped it shut. Of all the nerve! A buffalo! True, her grandmother had once accused her of walking through the house like an elephant. Ballet lessons had begun shortly after that.

  “It couldn’t be that you’re overly sensitive due to the bender you went on last night?”

  Jackson shook his head. “Not at all. I’m just tired from the trip. That’s all.”

  “If I sit, will you go back to sleep?”

  Jackson raised his head and looked straight at her, into her, and the pain she saw in his eyes went much deeper than any hangover. “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t. At least, no more than I would care for any human being who looked as terrible as you do right now.” Catalina took the few short steps that separated her from the table and chair and seated herself slowly. “How’s this?”

  Jackson stared at her for a moment, and then he fell back against the bed. “Great,” he said gruffly. “Just don’t breathe too loud.”

  He was asleep in minutes, and Catalina smiled. She wouldn’t move, if that was what it took. She wouldn’t breathe at all, if it meant Jackson would be safe for one more day.

  Jackson walked down the steps slowly, his eyes searching the room as always, looking for anyone who showed too much interest in his approach … or not enough. It looked to be the same old crowd, drinking and playing cards and turning on the charm for Alberta’s girls.

  His head still hurt, but it was tolerable enough. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the entire day in bed, or the last time he’d slept for so long. Last night’s drinking and the loose lips that had followed would not be repeated. Not tonight. Not ever.

  At least Catalina hadn’t heard his drunken confessions. The last thing he needed or wanted was her … or anyone else’s … sympathy.

  But he had strengthened his decision where Catalina Lane was concerned. There was no way he could leave her at Alberta’s. Like it or not, he was going to have to take her with him. In a few more days, after he’d rested a bit, they would light out early in the morning, and he’d take her to Phoenix. He didn’t want to take on Alberta’s men, but he would if he had to.

  And maybe, if he rode hard enough and long enough each day, he’d be able to forget how soft she was, how she tasted, how she offered herself to him.

  Alberta met him at the foot of the stairs. You’d never guess, watching that composed front, that she’d been scared witless by Catalina earlier that day. Another reason he couldn’t leave her here. Alberta would have her revenge, one way or another, but she was smart enough to wait until he was gone.

  “Evenin’, Kid.” Alberta all but blocked his way, and he stopped while still two steps from the bottom.

  He said nothing, but nodded his head slightly.

  “Where’s my Cat?” Alberta asked softly. “I hope you haven’t exhausted her completely, keeping her in that room all day long.”

  Jackson stepped down one calculated step. “Catalina will be down in a bit. She was fussin’ with her hair when I left.”

  Alberta stepped aside and allowed Jackson to pass by, but he heard her fall into step behind him as he made his way to his table. Even though the room was crowded, his table at the back of the room was vacant. Everyone knew it was reserved for him, and no one wanted to test his patience.

  Jackson sat with his back to the wall, and Alberta took the chair next to him, signaling the bartender with a wave of her hand. She said nothing until the big man set two filled glasses in front of them, and she lifted hers to sip almost daintily. Jackson’s glass sat untouched.

  “So?” she said, leaning in slightly. “What do you think of her?”

  Jackson turned his face to the smiling woman and gave her a cold glare. “Catalina?”

  Alberta nodded. “Of course, Cat. I have a feeling she’s going to make me a fortune.”

  “Could be,” Jackson said in a low voice.

  “Is she … adapting well?”

  Jackson’s eyes swept the room again. These would be Catalina’s customers, were he to leave her here. “Seems to enjoy herself well enough, if that’s what you mean.”

  Alberta’s smile widened and she leaned back, satisfied. “That’s exactly what I mean. I have no doubt you’re spoiling her terribly, of course. She’s bound to be disappointed once she gets into the regular routine here.”

  Jackson could do no more than grunt noncommittally.

  “How long are you planning to stay, Kid?” Alberta asked so casually, Jackson knew that was her real purpose for singling him out.

  “Until the week I paid for is up.”

  Alberta nodded and rolled her drink between her palms, wrapping stubby fingers around the glass. “Not planning on staying any longer than that? I could offer you a special rate if you’d like another week.”

  It was tempting to say yes, to buy some time, but Jackson kept his mouth shut. What did Alberta want?

  “I mean, you seem to like her well enough, and you two made a cozy little picture this morning.”

  “Is that a fact,” he drawled. “You didn’t look exactly charmed at the time.”

  Alberta’s cheeks reddened, but she continued to smile. “I was just surprised that you allowed her to touch your weapon.”

  Jackson gave the woman a small, sly grin. “Catalina can touch my weapon any time she wants. Remember that, Alberta.”

  “So,” Alberta ignored him. “What do you say? Another week?”

  Jackson shook his head slowly. “No thanks. A week with any one woman is plenty long enough.”

  Alberta’s features relaxed, and Jackson realized that he’d given her exactly the answer she wanted.

  “I understand, Kid. We wouldn’t want you getting too enamored of our Cat. That could cause all kinds of trouble.”

  Jackson nodded just once, and Alberta seemed satisfied with that silent response.

  “You understand, Kid. She’s prettier than most we get ar
ound here, and some men can get right addle-brained when they look at a fair face for a while. And a virgin to boot. That makes some men plumb crazy, like no one else should touch their woman. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to toss some poor sap out of this place ‘cause he developed romantic feelings for one of my girls. Particularly the new ones.” Alberta took a deep breath and sighed. “I just wanted to make certain you weren’t getting too attached.”

  Jackson maintained a calm front. “I never do.”

  Once Alberta was satisfied she moved on. Juanita gave him no more than a glance. She didn’t even smile at him. Apparently she’d given up on making a buck from him this trip and was focusing her attentions elsewhere. The gambler who had bid on Catalina, at the moment.

  He couldn’t leave her here. Catalina wouldn’t survive, and he couldn’t shake the knowledge that she was his … his responsibility. He’d found her, he’d brought her here, and he’d bought her. She was his, damn her.

  He turned his eyes to the stairs, and she was standing there. Dressed in the revealing gold and black outfit Alberta had provided, grinning as though this were all a joke, or child’s play. As though none of it were real.

  She kept her eyes on his face as she walked down the stairs, and though he knew he should look away, he couldn’t. With every step her well-shaped calves swung out just enough for him to get a good look. Her full skirt swished with every swing of her hips, and her smile, that wide grin, faded just a little.

  As she approached the table, Jackson kicked a chair out with his booted foot. Tonight she would not work the room. Tonight she would not sit on any miner’s lap. Tonight she would sit with him, and he would look his fill.

  And later he would send her to their room and he would continue to sit at this table and wait until early morning, when he could be certain she was asleep. Because even though he felt deep inside that she was his, he knew Catalina Lane was much too good for the likes of Kid Creede.

  Eleven

  *

  Catalina paced there at the foot of the bed where she’d watched over Jackson. Where was he? He’d sent her to the room hours ago, all but ordered her out of the saloon. She’d changed quickly, certain he would be right behind her, and then she’d begun the long wait.