Read Online Trail to Shasta (9781101622049) by J. R. Roberts - Free Book Online Page A

in the morning to make sure we go.”
    â€œI see.”
    She turned and looked at the door, then glanced at the bed.
    â€œBride is taking her bath.”
    â€œI know. I’m waiting my turn.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œDidn’t you say I needed one?”
    â€œI understood that Western men bathed infrequently . . . if at all.”
    â€œI’m well acquainted with bathtubs. I’ve been known to use one, say, two or maybe three times . . . a year.”
    She laughed.
    â€œI had intended to try to seduce you while Bride was bathing,” she said, “but maybe I’ll wait until you’re clean.”
    â€œThat sounds like a plan,” Clint said, “but what will you tell Bride?”
    â€œPerhaps,” she said, moving toward the door, “I’ll simply wait until she is asleep. After all those nights in the wagon, she’ll probably sleep very soundly.”
    She went out, closing the door gently behind her. Clint wondered if she was actually telling him the truth, and if he should expect her during the night.

TWENTY-ONE
    Clint heard Bride return from her bath. He cracked his door to make sure, watched her enter the room she was sharing with her sister. He stepped into the hall and went down to the front desk.
    â€œIs anyone using the bath?” he asked.
    â€œNo, sir,” the man said, “a young lady has just vacated it. Shall I have it prepared for you?”
    â€œYes,” Clint said. “Hot.”
    â€œWait here,” the clerk said. “I’ll make the arrangements, and get you some towels.”
    â€œThank you.”
    The clerk was back in a few minutes, said, “It’s all ready. Just walk straight back to the last door on the right.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Clint took the towels and went down the hall.
    * * * 
    Refreshed from his bath, Clint left the hotel to go and check on the wagon. He had told the lawman he didn’t mind having the wagon searched, but he did want to make sure that everything that was supposed to be there was still there. He also wanted to check on the horses, especially Eclipse.
    The streets were still busy, as darkness had not yet fallen. When he reached the stable, the doors were open and he walked right in. The man the sheriff had called Owen saw him and stood up straight, dropped the leg of the horse he’d been inspecting.
    â€œMr. Adams,” he said, “I—I didn’t—”
    â€œRelax, Owen,” Clint said. “I know you spoke to the sheriff. It’s fine.”
    â€œIt is?”
    â€œYou’re a part-time deputy, right?”
    â€œYessir.”
    â€œThen you were just doing your job.”
    â€œYessir.”
    â€œWe don’t have a problem,” Clint said. “I just wanted to check on my animals, and get something out of my wagon.”
    â€œGo right ahead, sir.”
    Of course, there was nothing he needed from the wagon; he just wanted to make sure everything was there.
    He took a look at the team first, found them to be standing easily, feeding. Then he looked in on Eclipse, who was also feeding. Next, he went to the wagon and climbed in back. Out of sight he made a complete search, found that everything was there, although it was obvious that some of the girls’ bags had been opened. He had no idea what the sheriff might have found—or might have expected to find—that would have caused him concern. Of course, there had been nothing.
    He came out of the wagon, unmindful of the fact that he wasn’t carrying anything. He didn’t care if Owen noticed.
    â€œEverything okay, sir?” the man asked.
    â€œEverything is fine, Owen,” Clint said. “Just fine. Make sure you tell the sheriff I was here.”
    â€œOh, uh, yes, well, okay, sir.”
    â€œGood night.”
    â€œNight, Mr. Adams.”
    Clint left the livery stable and walked back to the hotel.
    * * * 
    Owen Brown