A Perfect Arrangement Part 9

Cole threw up his good arm in a gesture of helplessness, then took the canteen from the horse and went to her to offer her water. He didn't dare say a word to her for fear that he might completely lose his temper. If she was this stubborn over something trivial, would she refuse to do what she must when they tried to escape?

After a while he stretched out on the gra.s.s behind her, put his hat over his face, and promptly went to sleep, not waking until he heard the thunder of a horse riding toward them. Automatically he reached for his gun, then winced in pain when his injured arm hurt and his gun wasn't there.

"I got it," one of Ford's men was saying, his voice as eager as a boy's.

No doubt this was the first-and if Cole had his way, his last-time to buy a dress for a lady. The man had dismounted and was talking to Ford, his face looking as happy as though he'd just completed his first bank job. "It ain't hardly been worn. I got it from Ellie 'cause she's the only one in town that's little like this one. Ellie didn't want to give it up, but I told her it was for you so she did. She said she didn't want no blood on it, though." Proudly he held up a pile of dark red velvet and a canvas bag of underwear. "It come all the way from Paris," he said.

Cole gave a laugh of derision. "Paris, Tennessee?" he asked, looking at the dress the man was holding up. It was a dress for a prost.i.tute: very little above the waist, then sleek over the hips, with an exaggerated bustle to emphasize a woman's backside curves. "Take it back," he said. "She won't wear it."

"Oh, yes, I will," Dorie said, stepping forward and grabbing the dress from the man's grubby hands.

"You will not!" Cole said indignantly. "There's nothing to the top half of that thing. You'll be... You'll be exposed."

"You sound worse than the preacher in Willoughby."

That threw Cole for a loop. "Willoughby?"

"Where I live, where the gold is," she said pointedly.

Cole was annoyed about the dress, but he was downright angry that she had made such a statement and he hadn't caught on right away. This girl was getting out of hand. "You're not going to wear that dress," he said, s.n.a.t.c.hing it from her.

"Yes, I am." She tried to take it from him, but he held it behind his back.

She started to grab it, but when he held it out of her reach, she turned her back on him and folded her arms over her chest. "If I can't wear that dress, I won't go into town and no one will ever get any gold."

Cole had never in his life dealt with a problem like this one. Because of his good looks, he'd never had trouble persuading a woman to say yes to him. But then, he'd never been stupid enough to forbid a woman to do something she obviously wanted to do.

Instinctively he turned to the other men, but to his disgust he saw that they were watching as though he and Dorie were traveling players putting on a show just for their entertainment. Even Ford, tr.i.m.m.i.n.g his nails with a knife big enough to skin buffalo, seemed to be in no hurry for the argument to be settled.

"Dorie, you must listen to reason," Cole said, taking a step toward her.

She turned on him. "What is wrong with me wearing that dress? Do you think that town carries a selection of dresses for women to wear to church? And besides, what business is it of yours?"

Already angry, Cole found that that statement made him even more furious. "I don't want the whole town looking at you!" he shouted.

"You're my wife!"

To his disbelief, Dorie's face dissolved into a smile. He seemed to have pleased her very much. "Give me the dress," she said softly, holding out her hand.

How could something as small as she was drive a man so close to the edge of insanity? Or maybe it wasn't insanity but tears of frustration that were flooding his mind. He wasn't a fool; he knew when he was defeated.

He'd never get her on the horse wearing that nightgown, nor would he be able to buy her a respectable dress.

With resignation on his face he handed her the dress, and Dorie went behind the nearest boulder to put it on.

Once out of his sight she was elated at the feel of the velvet. She had wanted something decent to wear, but this was much, much better than what she'd expected to get. This was the kind of dress a woman dreamed of wearing, a dress that would make men notice her. It was the kind of dress she'd never been allowed to wear in her father's house. He had always inspected her, making sure her hair was pulled back tightly, that every inch of her skin was covered. He got angry when she didn't wear gloves to cover her hands from the sight of men.

She stripped off the virginal nightgown and began the long, intricate process of dressing from the skin out: chemise, drawers with pink bows at the knee, pretty black stockings with only one tear in them, lacy garters, a corset that her father would have considered indecent-black satin with pink ribbon at the edges-corset cover, two petticoats, both edged with eyelet, and finally the dress. Holding her breath, she slipped the velvet over her head.

The gown was dark red velvet, but running vertically, every six inches or so, were inset stripes of crimson satin. When the dress floated over Dorie's head, she knew it was going to fit. And fit it did. She would, of course, have to give up breathing to make her waist fit the dress, but what did a little thing like breathing matter? The bodice of the dress was indeed half missing, cut so low that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s nearly spilled over the top. And even to Dorie herself, the dark red against her ivory skin, untouched by sun in all her life, was a rather pleasant contrast.

To her delight, the dress fastened in the front with what seemed to be a few hundred hooks and eyes. She didn't have any idea why the fastening, usually in the back, was in the front, but it did occur to her that the dress was much easier to get in and out of this way-which was, of course, the reason for the front closure.

When the pretty little shoes were on her feet, she stepped out from behind the rock and looked into the faces of four speechless men.

And her heart soared.

How many thousands of times had she seen Rowena enter a room and the men turn to stone? Every voice had gone silent, and women as well as men had stared. She had even seen large groups of children stop moving at the sight of her beautiful sister.

But never had such a thing happened to Dorie. She could have ridden into a room on a white elephant behind a bra.s.s band, and no one would have noticed. At least that was what she'd always thought.

"Do I look all right?" she said in a shy tone of voice she'd heard Rowena use all her life. She, as well as everyone else, had always thought Rowena was modest-as in "Isn't she adorable? She's so beautiful, but she has no idea she is. Just like everyone else, she asks if she looks all right." At that moment Dorie understood how nice her sister really was.

Rowena didn't need to ask how she looked; people's eyes were mirrors, they told her how wonderful she looked. When she asked if she was presentable Rowena was trying to put people at ease so they weren't completely in awe of her beauty. She was letting people believe that she had no idea that she was breathtaking.

So now, for the first time in her life, Dorie was getting to play this very enjoyable game. "Isn't anyone going to say anything?" she asked with all the innocence of a four-year-old in her first party dress. But the difference was that Dorie wasn't four years old.

Cole couldn't move; he just stood there and stared at her. She wasn't beautiful in the way her sister was, but Dorie was, in her way, more arresting. Her hair, released from its bondage and subjected to long hours of wind and sun, floated around her head like a cloud, soft, full, and alluring. Her little heart-shaped face was a combination of innocence and great intelligence. The sparkle in her eyes was not from sunlight but from that prodigious brain that churned day and night. A pretty mouth, small but full-lipped, curved above a determined chin, and below that...

Cole's hands tightened into fists. He was not a possessive man. He'd never owned anything in his life and never wanted to. He'd certainly never regarded another human being as his property. But now Dorie was, well, making him think that what she was showing to these other men was his-and she was showing it in public before he got to see it in private.

When he'd first met her, he'd thought she had no figure. A nice bosom, yes, but what he was seeing now was a great deal more than "nice." She had a long, graceful neck that was made to be swathed in diamonds, then shoulders of perfect shape and slope. Everything poured down to beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s that mounded exquisitely above the velvet that narrowed into a tiny waist.

If he could have used one word to describe her, it would have been "elegant." She'd put on a dress that would have made any other woman look like a tart, but Dorie managed to look as though she were about to have tea with the queen. He wasn't sure how she'd done it, but maybe all those books she'd read were reflected in her eyes. Maybe it was the way she carried herself. Maybe it was that she knew she wasn't a hussy so she didn't allow others to see her as one.

On the other hand, maybe all that creamy skin was blinding him so he couldn't think clearly.

"Isn't anyone going to say anything?" Dorie asked, wanting to stand there with the men gaping at her for about a year or two. However, she longed to hear a few words that no man had ever before thrown her way-words like "beautiful."

"exquisite," and "divine." Actually, plain ol' "pretty" might have served well for a start.

Cole knew too well what she wanted, and he was d.a.m.ned if he'd give it to her. At least not in front of these slavering men. Hadn't he heard that in some countries men made their women wear veils that covered them from head to toe? The men of that country were very wise.

Within seconds, Cole had removed the blanket from the back of his horse and was trying to drape it about her shoulders.

"Really, Mr. Hunter, it's much too hot for a cape," Dorie said, sliding away from him while looking innocently over her shoulder.

When the men around them began to chuckle, Cole was sure that if he hadn't wanted to kill them before, he did now.

"Could someone help me mount?" Dorie asked in her best southern belle tone, fluttering her eyelashes. "I think this velvet is just toooo heavy." She didn't say the words, "too heavy for little ol' me," but they were there.

Amazingly, considering he had the use of only one arm, Cole managed to swoop her off the ground and slam her into the saddle so hard her teeth jarred. Dorie didn't so much as lose her smile.

Nor did she lose her smile during the thirty minutes it took to ride down to the town, during which time Cole lectured her nonstop. He talked to her "for her own good" about the way she was displaying herself, making a public spectacle of herself. He even said the sun was going to ruin her complexion. He talked to her about the way men were going to think of her. When he said, "What would your father say?" Dorie began to laugh. Never in her life had she inspired jealousy in anyone, and she had to admit that it felt rather nice to have a man like Cole Hunter jealous because other men were looking at her.

"What will the men in town think when they see me?" she asked softly, leaning back against him.

"That you are a woman of the streets," he answered quickly.

"If you saw me, what would you think?" she asked before he could continue a.s.sa.s.sinating her morals.

Cole started to tell her that he'd think she was for sale, but he couldn't.

No matter what Dorie was wearing, there was still a look-but-don't-touch att.i.tude haloing her.

"I would think you were beautiful. I would think you were an angel come to life," he said softly as he kissed her bare shoulder.

That was more than enough for her. "I love you," she whispered, meaning the words with all her soul.

Cole paused in kissing her shoulder, but he didn't answer. He couldn't allow himself to say what he felt. A woman as clean and as good as Dorie deserved more in life than an aging gunslinger. She deserved the best there was. And right now he wished he were a man who deserved her.

Cole's mind was taken away from Dorie when Ford rode past them and said, "You know, Hunter, you two are so d.a.m.ned entertainin' I'm gonna hate killin' you if I find you've played me for a fool. I don't like card cheats and I don't like liars."

As he rode away, Dorie said, "But I'll bet he likes lizards, because his mother must have been one."

Cole didn't answer her.

Chapter Ten.

"Dorie," Cole said, his lips near her ear, trying his best to ignore the fact that the upper half of her body was nearly bare. "I want you to listen to me and listen well. You understand me?"

She nodded, knowing that he was planning to tell her something awful.

"I found out what they plan to do with us."

She knew it must be serious or he wouldn't have waited until they were nearly at the town before saying anything to her.

"We're not going to stay in town. It seems that a man who hates Ford"-he stopped to make a sound that said, Is there any other kind?- "an old enemy of his is in town, and Ford doesn't want to see him. I thought we'd have a chance if we were surrounded by other people, but that's not to be. Ford plans to get supplies and some beer and head out into the hills. I think he means to make us tell him where the gold is or we don't leave the hills alive."

His arm tightened around her waist. "I'm going to try to get Ford to take me into the saloon with him, and while I'm there I'll create a diversion and try to get a gun. When I have the gun I'll come back to the street and steal a horse and ride out south. I want you to stay on the horse, and when you hear the distraction, I want you to ride north. If I don't come out of the saloon or if you hear shots, you're to ride north as hard and as fast as you can. Don't even look back. Understand?"

"Where do we meet?"

He took a breath. "We don't." When she tried to look back at him he wouldn't let her. "Dorie, we've done what we set out to do. I was able to keep your sister from forcing you to marry Mr. Pepper, but you can see that there can be nothing else between us. I have too many enemies."

Dorie knew that he was worried about her, and he was choosing to give up everything in life so she could be safe. The town was close now, and she had only a few minutes to make the most important decision of her life. "Do you love me?" she asked.

"That has nothing to do with-"

"Do you love me?" she demanded.

"Yes," he said, "but what I feel means nothing. It will mean less than nothing if you're dead."

She turned in the saddle to look at him. "If you could, would you like to live in Latham with me? Help me manage the town?"

Smiling, he kissed her nose. "I'd like nothing better than to have my own bed, my own house, my own..." He looked at her hair, at her lips, at her eyes, knowing he was probably seeing her for the last time. If he didn't get killed within the next hour, he'd ride away one direction and send her off in another. It would be difficult but he would never allow himself to visit her in her peaceful little town. She deserved better than to be hooked for life to an "aging gunslinger."

"Dorie," he said, and put his hand on the back of her neck to turn her face to kiss him. A good-bye kiss.

But she turned away and wouldn't kiss him.

In spite of his good intentions, anger ran through Cole. Maybe she wouldn't kiss him because she was seeing him as he truly was: the one who had gotten them into this mess. Maybe the mention of her precious town had made her realize what he was and who she was.

When they entered the town, Cole's jaw was set into a hard line. He would do what he could to get her out unharmed and that would be all that was between them.

Dorie refused to kiss Cole because she felt as though it would be saying good-bye. And she was not going to say good-bye after she'd spent a lifetime trying to find a man like him. She loved him and she meant to keep him. Alive.

Of course she had no idea how to go about preventing him from getting shot on her account, but she hoped she'd think of something.

The first thing that went wrong with Cole's hastily concocted plan was that Ford said they both had to go into the saloon with him. She knew Cole wanted one of Ford's men to stay outside and guard her, but Ford didn't want the group to be separated. In this he was wise, but Dorie doubted the wisdom of stopping for a bottle or two of whiskey while trying to hold a man like Cole Hunter prisoner.

Racing through her head was the fact that Cole planned to create a diversion. What did that mean to a man with his background? Perhaps he'd start a fight, and in the ensuing tussle Dorie was supposed to run out the door, jump on a horse, and be long gone by the time the men realized she was missing. Was that what he thought of her as a person?

She'd told him she loved him. Did he think she loved him only when things were going well and that when they got bad she'd run away?

For a moment after they entered the saloon, Dorie was too sun-dazzled to see much, but as her eyes cleared, she saw even less. There seemed to be a lot of smoke, and judging by the smell, at least as much beer had been spilled as had been drunk. There were men everywhere, but they weren't men who looked as though they attended church on Sundays.

They held their cards or their drinks while looking about the room as though every person was an enemy.

There were some women too, slouched about the room, their eyes dead. Dorie had heard of such "bad" women and had always thought they were dangerous and fatally alluring. She thought such women must know a great deal about the secrets of men, but the women in this saloon just looked dirty and tired. She had a feeling that what they'd like best in all the world was a tub full of hot water, a bar of scented soap, and a good night's sleep.

All in all, the saloon was a disappointment to her. Where was the danger and the intrigue? This place was just full of tired, bored-looking people.

She was so absorbed in her observations that she almost failed to see Cole pretend to trip while his hand reached out for a gun that was snugly tucked away in one card player's holster. All the man had to do was s.h.i.+ft his position and Cole would be caught stealing. Dorie didn't think the man frowning over his cards looked as though he'd be forgiving if he caught Cole.

Dorie didn't think about what she was doing before she did it. All she could think of were the words "create a diversion." Cole needed to make sure that the attention of the people of the saloon, Ford and his men included, was focused on something other than him so he could steal a gun. He needed the people in the saloon less alert than they were.

One minute Dorie was being shoved along in front of the fattest of Ford's men and the next she'd opened her mouth and begun to sing.

She'd sung in church, but that was all, so she didn't know too many songs that were suitable for a saloon. But she did know a little tune about a singing bird, and she thought maybe the men would like that.

On second thought she doubted if anyone in the saloon was a connoisseur of music and was very particular about what he heard.

When the entire roomful of people came to a halt to stare at her, a few notes choked in her throat. Unlike the choirmaster in Latham, no one complained. Instead, they all seemed to be looking at the top of her dress-or rather at the missing top of her dress.

Dorie put her hand to her throat and continued to sing.

"Dorie!" Cole hissed. He took a step toward her, but she eluded him, hoping he wouldn't spend too much precious time trying to get her to do what he wanted her to do. She'd had her fill of doing what men wanted her to do. Doing what men wanted a woman to do made for a very dull life, and besides, she had learned something in the last few weeks. She had obeyed her father, and he had therefore imprisoned her and demanded that she do even more. Rowena had disobeyed their father and had been given love and freedom. Now Dorie had disobeyed Mr.

Hunter at every turn and, by golly, he was in love with her. When she got out of this mess she was going to think about this whole philosophy some more, even though already she could tell that it made no sense.