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on her soft, sleek fur, and the next, his hand was lying atop the skull!
“She’s over there,” said Tabitha, pointing to where the horses watered at the river.
Foster sighed deeply and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Taking his bowie knife, he severed the skull from the spine and went to put it in a saddlebag.
Tabitha placed a palm in the middle of Foster’s back and rubbed. “I’m going to call on this Caleb Poindexter fellow. He’s allegedly a psychic fellow with great powers. He should be able to shed some light on this.”
Foster chuckled with despair. “Caleb Poindexter? Sounds like one of Jeremiah’s friends from the circus.”
Tabitha grinned, a dazzling smile there in the twilight that showed off her cunning beaver’s teeth. “Caleb may be familiar with some of those circus clowns. But I have a guarantee that he’s a seriously talented psychic.”
Foster sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll take any ridiculous option right now.”
Chapter Six
Foster was glad that Tabitha had allowed him to bathe first.
This must be a sign of his prestige in her eyes. She had instructed the maid to fill the tub with hot water and had specified that Foster would bathe first. Now Worth was forced to loll about in Foster’s old, tepid bathwater. Foster could hear Worth splashing around behind the screen as Foster sat at the dressing table, looking for shaving items.
He had slept fitfully last night. Even more than realizing his beloved dog was a ghost and his saddlebag contained her skull, Foster was enflamed by his meeting with the stunning Tabitha Hudson. After his extremely bad choice with his last flame, Orianna, Foster had vowed to stay away from courtship. It was just not worth it, the agonies women put men through. Foster had suffered the torments of the damned at Orianna’s hands. Hell, he had given up his flourishing law practice to become an itinerant scout in the wilderness simply to get away from anything that reminded him of Orianna.
He had vowed never to repeat that experience, yet here he was, falling for another wily scamp. What made him think Miss Hudson was wily? Nothing at all—just past experience with dolls. Dolls would mess up a man, toy with his emotions. Dolls took pleasure in roasting men over the fire. Dolls were mean enough to hunt bears with hickory switches.
Yet he had lain awake nearly all night trying to keep his hand off his cock, images of the fetching Miss Hudson floating into his brain. She hardly seemed so mean she’d swallow a horned toad backward, but one never knew. She was serenely genteel with her sapphire eyes, pouty lips, her blonde braids piled so smoothly on her head they resembled a cache of gold nuggets. Foster admired her athleticism, even though she had bashed him in the jaw with her elbow. And her calm yet tough nature showed him that she was game for all manner of antics, perhaps more so now that she had come out of mourning.
But it had been the afflictions of Job last night to resist frigging himself into a fine lather. Tabitha had suggested that Worth stay at Vancouver House until Harley returned, and so Foster might stay there as well. The ghost of Phineas lay, intermittently, at the side of Foster’s bed. Periodically Foster would drape an arm over the side of the bed and feel nothing. Then, just as suddenly, she would be there again. He realized that Ghost Phineas made absolutely no sound when moving.
“Today I’m going to make a photograph of you, Miss Hudson, and the dog,” Worth said from behind the silk screen. A heavenly ray of the morning sun beamed in the window behind the bathtub, casting Worth’s alluring silhouette onto the screen. It occurred to Foster that he would have to fight Worth for Tabitha’s hand, if that was Foster’s intention at all. Worth was a fine, strapping buck, and he had the advantage that he planned on staying in Laramie. The athletic Tabitha would probably appreciate a gadabout stud such as Worth. He
“She’s over there,” said Tabitha, pointing to where the horses watered at the river.
Foster sighed deeply and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Taking his bowie knife, he severed the skull from the spine and went to put it in a saddlebag.
Tabitha placed a palm in the middle of Foster’s back and rubbed. “I’m going to call on this Caleb Poindexter fellow. He’s allegedly a psychic fellow with great powers. He should be able to shed some light on this.”
Foster chuckled with despair. “Caleb Poindexter? Sounds like one of Jeremiah’s friends from the circus.”
Tabitha grinned, a dazzling smile there in the twilight that showed off her cunning beaver’s teeth. “Caleb may be familiar with some of those circus clowns. But I have a guarantee that he’s a seriously talented psychic.”
Foster sighed heavily. “All right. I’ll take any ridiculous option right now.”
Chapter Six
Foster was glad that Tabitha had allowed him to bathe first.
This must be a sign of his prestige in her eyes. She had instructed the maid to fill the tub with hot water and had specified that Foster would bathe first. Now Worth was forced to loll about in Foster’s old, tepid bathwater. Foster could hear Worth splashing around behind the screen as Foster sat at the dressing table, looking for shaving items.
He had slept fitfully last night. Even more than realizing his beloved dog was a ghost and his saddlebag contained her skull, Foster was enflamed by his meeting with the stunning Tabitha Hudson. After his extremely bad choice with his last flame, Orianna, Foster had vowed to stay away from courtship. It was just not worth it, the agonies women put men through. Foster had suffered the torments of the damned at Orianna’s hands. Hell, he had given up his flourishing law practice to become an itinerant scout in the wilderness simply to get away from anything that reminded him of Orianna.
He had vowed never to repeat that experience, yet here he was, falling for another wily scamp. What made him think Miss Hudson was wily? Nothing at all—just past experience with dolls. Dolls would mess up a man, toy with his emotions. Dolls took pleasure in roasting men over the fire. Dolls were mean enough to hunt bears with hickory switches.
Yet he had lain awake nearly all night trying to keep his hand off his cock, images of the fetching Miss Hudson floating into his brain. She hardly seemed so mean she’d swallow a horned toad backward, but one never knew. She was serenely genteel with her sapphire eyes, pouty lips, her blonde braids piled so smoothly on her head they resembled a cache of gold nuggets. Foster admired her athleticism, even though she had bashed him in the jaw with her elbow. And her calm yet tough nature showed him that she was game for all manner of antics, perhaps more so now that she had come out of mourning.
But it had been the afflictions of Job last night to resist frigging himself into a fine lather. Tabitha had suggested that Worth stay at Vancouver House until Harley returned, and so Foster might stay there as well. The ghost of Phineas lay, intermittently, at the side of Foster’s bed. Periodically Foster would drape an arm over the side of the bed and feel nothing. Then, just as suddenly, she would be there again. He realized that Ghost Phineas made absolutely no sound when moving.
“Today I’m going to make a photograph of you, Miss Hudson, and the dog,” Worth said from behind the silk screen. A heavenly ray of the morning sun beamed in the window behind the bathtub, casting Worth’s alluring silhouette onto the screen. It occurred to Foster that he would have to fight Worth for Tabitha’s hand, if that was Foster’s intention at all. Worth was a fine, strapping buck, and he had the advantage that he planned on staying in Laramie. The athletic Tabitha would probably appreciate a gadabout stud such as Worth. He
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