Deborah Camp (22 page)

Cassie giggled, making Boone smile at her. “The future sorta scares me, but when you talk about it, it sounds exciting.”

“It can be exciting,” Boone assured her. “One must simply plan for it carefully and let nothing get in his way.” He extended a hand toward the lacy-walled gazebo. “Let’s rest here a moment before we go up to the hotel.”

The Crescent Spring four-sided gazebo led to the stairs that swept up the hillside toward the crowning glory of the Crescent Hotel. It offered a resting place before or after tackling the long climb up to the hotel, which had been dubbed the “castle in the wilderness.” The Crescent Hotel, all six elegant stories, was perched atop one of the highest hills in the city. Cassie thought it looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its peaked roof and dormer windows. Cassie sat on the bench and drank in the Victorian scene around her. She admired the gingerbread work decorating each and every roof and gable and the ornate gas lamps that lined the streets. Evenly spaced saplings, protected from pedestrians and clumsy horses by individual picket fences, were evidence of recent landscaping by concerned townspeople like Boone who wanted to change Eureka
Springs from a town into a resort. Boone was right about the city being prosperous, Cassie thought, for even to her untrained eyes she could see that Eureka Springs was on the brink of an economic explosion. Buildings were going up everywhere. The railroad brought in hundreds of people daily, and others came in covered wagons and on horseback. Not all were ailing and needed a cure from the clear waters; many were wealthy and traveled to the town annually just to enjoy the season at the springs.

It seemed that everyone who passed knew Boone and called out warm greetings to him. His good standing in the community impressed Cassie, and she imagined how it must feel to be so well liked and admired by so many people. Boone’s community standing was the exact opposite of Jewel’s. While almost everyone knew Jewel Town-send, no one went out of his or her way to say howdy to her. On the contrary, folks went out of their way to ignore her as if she were invisible to the naked eye.

But Cassie had seen some of these men—the exact same men who were greeting Cassie today because she was with Boone but who had turned away from her during her previous trips into town—enter Jewel’s establishment on the eastern edge of town and treat Jewel like a long-lost sister. It made one want to retch, Cassie thought. Two-faced people were the worst, and this town was chock-f of them.

“What brought on that frown, Cassie?” Boone asked, leaning forward to see her face, which was partially hidden from him by her bonnet.

“Oh, I was thinking about how cruel people can be sometimes.”

“Have people been cruel to you?”

“Some people.” She laughed softly and sadly. “But they’re all being extra nice today. I think folks like you, Boone.”

“Well,” he said, drawling modestly, “I try to be fair to folks. I think of people as neighbors instead of strangers.”

Cassie regarded him in a softer light than she had, seeing him more with her heart than ever before. A good man, she thought again. More than just the banker’s son: a solid
citizen in his own right. Impulsively, she put one gloved hand on his where it rested on his knee. He gave her a startled look that quickly gave way to one of pleasure. His lips stretched into a grin of delight beneath his auburn mustache.

“You’re a good man, Boone Rutledge,” Cassie said, forcing the words past her shyness. “I mean that. A fine man.”

“Why, thank you, Cassie Potter.” He lifted her hand with both of his and placed a kiss upon her middle knuckles. “And you are a fine lady.”

They walked up the long flight of steps to the hotel and Cassie felt like Cinderella when she entered the lobby. Several men sat in rockers near a huge fireplace. They were smoking pipes and reading the local newspaper, they glanced briefly at her and then went back to their news. Oak pillars soared up to the ornate ceiling. Oriental rugs covered the floors. A Wells Fargo safe was sequestered behind the registration desk and, above it, ticked a gold-faced clock.

Two of the men stood up and shook Boone’s hand, then engaged him in a conversation about the price of lumber. Cassie moved away from them and stopped before the freestanding fireplace. Tipping back her head she read the poem engraved in the stone above the grate, and her thoughts swerved unerringly and inexplicably to Rook:

“Cassie, are you ready to go into the dining room or would you rather look around the hotel first?”

Cassie yanked her thoughts from the other man and smiled at the one she was with. “Let’s go into the dining room. I’ve seen enough of the hotel.”

Boone led her through the plush lobby to the grand dining
room where several huge chandeliers threw sparks of light everywhere. Tall, narrow windows were dressed in heavy velvet and Irish lace. The tables were draped with pretty white cloths and set with china and silver and crystal. Cassie moved like a sleepwalker to a table near one of the windows, where she sat down in one of the high-backed chairs with Boone’s gentlemanly assistance.

Boone ordered for both of them. The grilled fish had a delicate lemon flavor, and the vegetables and rice served on the side were sprinkled with nuts which Boone identified as almond slivers.

“I’ve never tasted food like this,” Cassie admitted, feeling out of her element at the fancy table. “It’s good, but it sure is seasoned funny.”

“I bet you’re a good cook,” Boone said.

“Oh, I do all right.” Cassie looked away as her thoughts drifted back to Rook. What was he doing for dinner? He always bragged about her cooking, insisting hers was the best he had ever tasted. She closed her mind to further thoughts of him and forced herself to think of Boone. Boone, the banker’s son. Boone, the kind man. Boone, the visionary. “Boone …”

“Yes, Cassie?”

She looked at him directly. “Why did you wait until after Shorty died before you came visiting?”

He placed his knife and fork carefully in his plate and didn’t speak for a few moments. “I wanted to call on you, but Shorty was possessive of you. I talked with him quite a bit, and I could tell that you meant everything to him. I didn’t want to cause trouble by courting you. I knew Shorty didn’t want another man around the place.” His eyes, the color of new leaves, begged for understanding.

“I guess you’re right. Pa and me was close. We didn’t have anyone but us.” She stirred her coffee and let his explanation settle in her mind. It made sense, although she didn’t think Shorty would have cared if Boone had come calling. Shorty would have teased her about it, but he would have been tickled that another man found her pretty. “I’m glad we’re getting the chance to know each other,” she told Boone. She looked around at the other diners. “This
place is as pretty as a picture. I knew it would be grand, but it takes my breath away!”

“Let’s take a stroll, and then I want to stop at the bank so you can see where I work. You’ve never been in it, have you?”

“No. Pa went in once with Jewel, but I stayed outside. We never had money in the bank, but Jewel does.”

“Would you like to go inside and look around?” he asked.

Cassie shrugged. “I guess so.” She would rather have seen the inside of the other hotels and eateries, but the bank would do. Boone was right proud of it and she wanted to please him.

They left the Crescent and meandered down the steps to the street below. Dusk was an hour away, and the town was readying itself for the whirl of evening social hours. Ladies and gentlemen hurried to their hotel rooms or homes to change from day wear to more expensive evening wear. Children scampered about, savoring the last of the daylight.

The bank on Main Street was closed, but Boone had a key. He opened the back door and rolled up the window shades before leading Cassie through the labyrinth of offices to the large room at the front of the bank where public business was conducted. The teller’s cage was made of iron grillwork, and Cassie recalled how Boone had likened it to a prison. Boone’s desk sat just behind it. Boone put on his green eyeshade, and Cassie laughed.

“It smells good in here,” Cassie said, pacing restlessly around the room and stopping here and there to examine a desk, a calendar, an inkwell. “Smells like a schoolhouse. Remember?” she asked, glancing at Boone, who stood beside his desk and watched her journey around the room. “Fresh writing paper and India ink.”

“Musty-smelling books,” Boone added.

“Yes, and chalk. Smells like serious business in here.”

“Business is always serious,” Boone told her. “Remember when I was talking earlier about planning for the future?”

“Yes.”

“Have you made any plans for yours?”

She ran her fingers along the corner of his desk, unable to lift her gaze to his. Was he talking about being part of her future? she wondered.

“I’ve thought some about it,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve got the land and—”

“
Do
you have the land?”

She looked at him, confused by his question, since the answer was as plain as the freckles on his face. “Yes. The land’s mine,” she said with a decisive nod. “Now that Pa’s gone, it’s all mine.”

Boone stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “I’m concerned about this, Cassie.”

“About what?” she asked, shaking her head at the puzzle he was making.

“I wouldn’t want that land to be taken from you. When a landowner dies and leaves no provisions, no instructions—”

“Oh, don’t worry your head over that,” Cassie said, laughing a little when she realized Boone was making a mountain out of a molehill. “Pa left a will.”

“Shorty left a will?” Boone said, his voice rising in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve got it.” Cassie faced him, amused by his wide-eyed shock. “So, you see, Pa was like you. He thought of the future.”

“Yes, well, that’s good.” Boone cleared his throat and smiled. “But that will might not be legal. Your father wasn’t—”

“It’s legal,” Cassie assured him. “A lawyer signed it.” Cassie smiled and turned away from him to find herself staring at … at Rook!

She gasped, her hand flying to her open mouth.

“What is it?” Boone asked behind her.

Cassie shook her head, unable to speak as she continued to stare at Rook’s face on the wall. Above his head were the words “Wanted Dead or Alive.” Cassie shivered and stepped back, bumping into Boone as she did so.

“Do all those pictures of outlaws frighten you?” he
asked, his hands covering her shoulders. “Don’t be scared, Cassie. They’re just pictures.”

Cassie nodded and swallowed hard before she could trust herself to speak. “That one,” she said, pointing to Rook’s likeness. “That one looks ornery, doesn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s the head of the Colton gang. He was spotted at Fort Smith last month, and word is he’s around these parts now.”

She nodded silently and read the rest of the poster. He was wanted for robbery and murder. The reward offered would see her through a few winters.

“An animal like that could shoot a harmless old man like your father without one bit of worry over it,” Boone said, his hands closing more tightly on her shoulders. “That’s why I’ve been concerned about you, Cassie. I hate to think of you being out there alone. Anything could happen to you.”

The man in the poster had a three-inch scar down his left cheek, the poster stated. Rook didn’t have a scar, but there could have been a mistake about that scar. Maybe folks only thought they saw one. The outlaw had a mustache too, but those were as easy to grow as they were to shave off. It was Rook. She was sure of it. Her gaze drifted down to the name under the drawing.

“Blackie Colton,” she said.

“Yes, he’s a bad one.”

“Blackie,” she whispered, remembering Rook calling that name when he’d been out of his head, but when she’d asked him about it he’d said that Blackie was a fella he knew. Somebody was lying to her, she thought, feeling betrayed and uneasy. Would Jewel ask her to harbor a vicious killer? Did Jewel not know that Rook was an outlaw known as Blackie? Why would Rook call out his own name when he’d been sick? Didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

“Whoever turns him in will get a pile of money,” she said, moving away from the disturbing likeness. “What did you say earlier? It takes money to make money?” she asked, glancing at Boone.

“That’s right,” Boone said, laughing under his breath
and wagging a finger at her as he closed the distance between them in three strides. “But bounty hunters collect that kind of money, not pretty young ladies.”

“I guess you’re right,” she allowed. She glanced at the wall clock and sighed. Her dreamy day in Eureka Springs had come to a sudden halt, she thought, looking at the drawing of Rook’s face again. Damn him! Did he have to ruin everything for her? “We’d better start back, Boone. It’s getting late.”

“It’s still early, really,” Boone said. “We could stay in town another hour or so and—”

“No, thanks.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I’d love to, but I’ve got things to do at home before I can rest tonight.”

“Very well.” He shrugged and a little frown appeared between his brows. “Did you have a good time?”

“I had a wonderful time,” she said, moving closer to him and curling one hand in the crook of his arm.

“Then may I call on you again?” he asked.

She nodded, pleased by his request but unsure of how to respond. She didn’t want to appear too forward, too eager. “I wouldn’t turn away a friend,” she said after a few moments, and Boone’s grateful smile made her feel like a queen bestowing a favor on a devoted subject.