The Cowboys - Chet Part 31

Without warning, Chet tore her from his arms and pushed her away from him. "It's time to go back." He barely got the words out. He was breathing as though he'd been running for an hour.

"I don't want to go. I want you to hold me again." She reached out to him, but he stepped back.

"I don't want to go, either. I want to spend the rest of the night here with you."

"Why can't we"

"Because I can't control myself much longer. Five more minutes of holding you, kissing you, wanting you, and I'll tear the clothes from your body and take you right here."

As incredible as it seemed, that matched very closely the thoughts in her own mind.

"I would never forgive myself if I did anything to dishonor you."

Melody began to think she'd much overrated honor.

Chet took her hand and began pulling her up the path to the town.

"Chet, please stop."

"No."

"Can't we talk about this?"

"We've talked too much already. We both know it has to end, so there's no use torturing ourselves, making ourselves miserable."

"I'm not miserable. I'm not"

He stopped and turned so abruptly that she ran into him. "I am. I'm so miserable I can't stand it. Thinking about what I'd like to do with you but can't is torture. A man can only stand so much. I've reached my limit. I'm just about to bust."

He started up the trail once more. Her protests did nothing to slow him down. She practically had to run to keep up. It seemed ironicin the moments when she had time to think, in between dodging rocks and trying to keep from losing her balancethat after turning down several offers, she shouldn't be able to marry the man she loved. The man who loved her. Everything was mixed up.

She reached the top of the bluff out of breath. They must have been gone longer than she'd thought. Light filtered through the windows of several buildings. She heard faint sounds of music and occasionally a raised voice, but she didn't see anyone on the boardwalks. Chet pulled himself together enough to walk by her side, giving the appearance of calm, but she could sense the tempest that boiled inside him. He stopped just inside the hotel door.

"Aren't you coming in?" Melody asked.

"Later. I'm going for a walk first."

"Chet, I"

"We've said all there is to say. Why can't you leave it at that?"

"Because I love you and don't mean to lose you because of some silly prejudice."

"It's not silly. I told you about"

"I'm willing to take a chance."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I do, and I can't let you."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

"You're not too old to regret them."

"I could never regret marrying you." "You'd regret that until your dying day." He turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"Be careful. Lantz could have sent that killer of his after you already."

"I'm not afraid of Lantz or his killer. I'm more afraid of you. Go to bed. Maybe some sleep will restore your common sense."

"My common sense is just fine, thank you."

But she was talking to empty s.p.a.ce. He had gone. She started to run after him, then changed her mind. He didn't believe she loved him so deeply that she would never regret anything so much as not being with him. She had to find a way to convince him, and she had to do it quickly.

Chet sat alone at the table, an untouched drink before him. He'd walked until he was tired of looking at the same streets, sidestepping the same broken boards, hearing the same voices coming through the same open doorways. He'd found a nearly empty saloon, dropped down in a dark corner, and ordered a bottle of whiskey he didn't want. It wouldn't fix what was wrong with him, and he'd feel even worse when he sobered up. Besides, he didn't trust Lantz not to do something stupid like kidnap Melody and try to force her to marry him. He was the kind of man who would believe she'd be perfectly happy once the deed was done.

She should have gone back to Richmond and married one of her gallant cavaliers. No, she should never have come to Texas. Most important of all, she should never have fallen in love with him. "You want me to show you how to open that bottle?"

Chet looked up to see a woman who was probably about Melody's age standing in front of his table, hand on her hip and a forced smile on her lips. She was probably tired, counting the minutes until the saloon closed and she could crawl into bed.

Chet returned a weak smile. "I remember how. I just can't decide whether it's worth the trouble."

"That bad?"

Chet had no intention of telling her about Melody, but he didn't want to force her to go away. She looked worn out. "Would you like a drink?"

"I can't drink unless the customer does."

"Bring another gla.s.s."

She must have been afraid he'd take back his invitation. She was back in seconds. He poured two drinks. He put his gla.s.s to his lips but didn't drink as he watched her take a gulp from hers.

She leaned back and sighed in relief. "Thanks. My name's Cornelia, but everybody calls me Corrie. Ain't been a man in tonight who didn't want more than company and conversation."

"I don't really want either."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You ain't going to try to talk me into going back to your room with you?"

"No."

She relaxed and took a second swallow from her drink. "You're not drinking," she said. "I'll have to leave if you don't."

Chet poured his whiskey into her gla.s.s. "There. I'm way ahead of you."

"Thanks, mister. I hope you come in here again." "I'm leaving in a couple of days."

"Why?"

"Time to move on."

"Woman troubles," she announced. "I could tell it the minute you walked in the door."

Chet spun his gla.s.s on the table. "You see a lot of that?"

"Naw. The decent cowhands go up to the Golden Nugget. The Royal outfit hangs out at the Spinning Wheel. The townsfolk prefer the Open Door. I get mostly men down on their luck or men too mean and rotten to have anything but bad luck."

"Then go work at one of the other places."

"My luck has been about like yours. n.o.body wants me."

Corrie wasn't pretty, but she was friendly.

"Ever tried waiting tables?"

"You try getting a job like that when you look like I do."

"They might give you a try if you'd ask."

"You seen those two rich women that was shopping up and down the street this morning?"

"Yes."

"You think they'd want the likes of me waiting on them?"

"I'm sure they would be pleased to have you."

"No wonder your girl threw you over. You don't have a real good grip on reality, do you?"

Sometimes he wondered if he could possibly be wrong about reality. Melody's family had accepted him. Maybe others would as well. No, Melody had rejected him at first. She'd only changed her mind after he rescued Sydney. He couldn't expect to perform dramatic rescues for everyone. There would always be rich men like Lantz who ran the towns, who decided who would be accepted and who would be kept outside the bounds of decent society. For himself he didn't care, but he wouldn't let that happen to Melody.

"Let's just say I overlooked a few very important things until it was too late."

"Didn't we both." Corrie took another swallow. "Mine was a fella who made promises I shoulda known he wouldn't keep. But a girl's gullible the first time, ain't she? After that she learns to stick to the rules."

Maybe that was why Melody thought they could make it work. She was gullible the first time.

"You're not drinking, and the boss is starting to give me the eye."

Chet filled both their gla.s.ses. When the proprietor turned away, he poured his on the floor.

"You don't even want to drink?" Corrie shook her head, looked over her shoulder, and poured hers out as well. "I don't really like it," she confessed. "But it makes the customers happy when I drink with them." She gave Chet a searching look. "I don't think I ever saw anyone who's got it as bad as you."

"It's my first time, and I was even more gullible than you were."

"But you're old," Corrie exclaimed. She lowered her voice. "I mean you're old for it to be the first time."

Chet was not amused to have Corrie think being twenty-nine meant he practically had one leg in the grave. "I guess I'd better toddle off to bed before I keel over."

"Now I've made you mad. I'm sorry. I just thought you'd have had your first love when you was fifteen or sixteen."

He might have if his parents hadn't disappeared. Instead he was helping Jake drive herds to New Mexico and fighting Comancheros along the way.

"It's worse when you wait so long," she said.

"Well, at least my first one is behind me. It won't be so bad next time."

Corrie reached out and put her hand over his. "I've seen your kind before," she said. "There won't be no next time for you."

He'd already reached that conclusion, but having her put it into words didn't make it any easier. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "I've got to go. Thanks for the company."

"You talk to that girl again. You tell her I said a man like you don't come along all that often. She'd better make mighty certain she's got something better before she throws you back."

On impulse Chet bent over and kissed the top of Corrie's head. "Next time some guy starts bad-mouthing you, you tell him I said they don't come any nicer. I bet you can cook, too."

Corrie smiled. "You're sweet. You ought not to be wearing that gun. Somebody's liable to take you for a gunfighter."

Chet felt the warmth drain from his body. Even in a saloon, his gun condemned him.

Melody was so nervous, she couldn't stop shaking. She'd never done anything so outrageous in her life. She'd hidden in Chet's room to wait for him. She only hoped she had the courage not to run away before he returned. It had seemed so easy when she'd first thought of it. Just slip into his room and wait. Surely he would understand that she loved him so much, nothing else mattered. But after waiting for what seemed like hours, she wasn't so certain. What if he didn't come back? What if he was with someone else? What if he got angry when he found her? What if he was drunk?

None of these things had occurred to her as she stood in her own room, undressing, furiously trying to think of some way to keep him from leaving. Now any of those things seemed more likely than that he would be pleased to see her.

She had no idea how long she'd waited. Sitting in a corner, straining for the sound of footsteps, wondering if the next would be hisalmost fearful it would becaused her to lose all sense of time. She wouldn't have been surprised to see the first rays of sunrise any minute.

She realized she had no idea what his footstep sounded like. Several times she had been jerked awake from her semi-trance only to have the footsteps stop short of the door or continue past. She had begun to catalog the difference between the sound of boots, shoes, and spurs, and the softer sound of women's shoes.

When he did arrive, she barely heard any sound at all before the door opened.

Framed in the doorway, the light from behind transforming him into a featureless black shadow, he looked huge and forbidding. For a moment Melody was certain she'd made a monstrous mistake, that she ought to hide until he turned his back and she could escape.

Then he lit the lamp, and it was too late.

He didn't see her right away. He just stood by the lamp, apparently deep in thought. He wasn't drunk. His step was too steady, his footfall too light. After a moment he sighed deeply and turned around.

She expected a shocked reaction, some kind of stunned response. Even an outburst. She got none of that. She thought he would speak firstshout at her, at least ask what she was doing in his roombut he didn't utter a sound. She wondered if he would throw her out, if he wanted her to leave, if he wanted to throw her on the bed and force himself on her right there.

"I had to come," she said when the silence finally became too frightening. "I couldn't leave things like that."

Still he didn't speak. She felt frightened, desperate to know what was going on in his mind. Did he despise her for being so brazen?

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked. Despite the warmth of the night, she felt chilled. What if she had ruined her chances forever?

She pulled her arms in against her body, felt the goose b.u.mps on her skin. She knew coming in here dressed only in a nightgown was a tremendous gamble. But she hadn't been able to think of anything else that would show Chet how much she loved him.

She couldn't back down now. She had nothing to lose by going forward. She covered the distance between them, put her arms around Chet, and held him tightly. She might as well have put her arms around a statue. He felt so stiff, his body so rigid, that she was certain he'd break before he would bend. He was fighting her, fighting his desire to give in. His arms, clamped to his sides, quivered from the tension building inside him. This was the final battle. She had to win now, or she would lose forever.