Riding alongside the herd, he slowed beside Freddy and inspected her through a thick sheet of steady drizzle. She rode hunched up, trying to keep the rain out of her collar, shivering and blowing warm breath down the cuff of her gloves.
“I’m going into town,” he said, skimming a glance across the wet tendrils of black hair plastered to her cheek. “Your shift is about over; do you want to come along?”
“It doesn’t sound like there’s anything to see.”
She was correct about that. Austin’s location ensured growth, but right now it was still a small frontier town trying to decide if its future lay toward cattle, cotton, or politics. But Austin’s lack of amenities wasn’t why she wanted to stay in camp. The way she and Alex were hovering over Les gave the lie to her earlier statement that the sisters didn’t care about each other.
They circled the herd in companionable silence, listening to the rain drumming against the brims of their hats. When her leg brushed against his, he remembered the night she had accused him of intentionally letting their legs touch. She’d been right, of course. He couldn’t be near her without wanting to touch her. She was driving him crazy.
Last night he’d tossed and turned, considering her admission that she hadn’t been acting. The truth hadn’t surprised him. By now he could tell when she assumed a role.
He wanted to ask her about that night, but he didn’t. If she confirmed that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, a door would swing open that needed to remain closed.
There was nothing here for either of them, he reminded himself, looking at her through the slanting rain. They wanted different things, different futures. He had nothing to offer. If she won Joe’s inheritance, she’d leave for the big-city theaters. If she lost, it meant he lost too. Between them they wouldn’t have two nickels to rub together.
If he started thinking with the equipment below his belt instead of the grey matter above his eyebrows, then he might get her in bed during this drive, but it wouldn’t be an act to his credit. She would believe he saw her as an actress-whore, and that wasn’t true. She would believe he was merely using her, and that would be true, because he knew they had no future beyond Abilene.
He’d never burned for a woman as he did for Freddy Roark, but he wasn’t a man who used women with no thought for the consequences. And he couldn’t see any good consequences for either of them in the long run.
He rolled back his shoulders. “Is there anything you want me to bring you from town?”
“Some licorice if you can find any,” she said, licking rain off her lips. “Les likes licorice.”
He watched the tip of her tongue slide across her lips, felt an instant stirring between his thighs, then he jerked sharply on his reins and trotted away from her, cursing under his breath.
“When you agreed to meet, I figured you’d pick one of the saloons.” Pausing in the doorway, Dal inspected the hotel’s second-floor lady’s salon.
Lola smiled over her shoulder, then led him toward two chairs facing a coal fire. “I’m a lady now, haven’t you heard?” Taking one of the chairs, she smoothed her skirts with gloved hands, then demurely crossed her ankles.
As they were the only occupants in the salon, Dal lit a cigar and studied her through a drift of smoke. Her auburn hair was elaborately curled, and she smelled of something a lot sweeter than cowhide. Powdered cleavage peeked from the braided edges of an amber-colored cape. She wore lip rouge, artificial pink on her cheeks, and her eyelashes were darkened.
He couldn’t help thinking about Freddy, hunched and miserable, rain dripping down her collar and face, her trousers and boots streaked with mud. At the end of her shift, she would crawl into her tent and sit there shivering, longing for the hot sun she’d cursed two days ago. Tonight she would sleep in a damp, muddy bedroll.
“The next time your future husband interferes with my drive,” he said, drawling the words, “I’m going to send him back to you a lot less pretty.”
“Now, Dal honey, you got it all wrong,” Lola purred, leaning forward to pat his knee. “What happened with that wagon was a fortuitous accident, that’s all.”
“Caldwell says you’ll give Les one week’s recovery time, then she goes back on the line or she’s off the drive. I’m asking you to give Les however long she needs. I want it in writing.”
“And how is my dear stepdaughter?”
“She’s feverish, and Alex says the wound is inflamed. Les needs longer than a week to recover.”
“Well, well,” Lola said, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “Am I to infer that you don’t want to replace Les with an experienced hand because you’ve decided to accept my offer?”