Welcome new & loyal readers! I think you'll like what's in store in this chapter ;)
16. Punching Bags and Paintbrushes
It was early Saturday morning, and while most of the townsfolk were still tucked safely in their beds, the deputy had put his assistant hard at work.
Smack! Smack-smack! Their morning training session followed the same pattern as it had the day before, only today Rose's movements were slower and a little clumsy. Yesterday's long ride had left her muscles aching so badly it felt like she'd been hit by a steam train, and it was only the reward of spending uninterrupted time with Deputy Belikov that gave her the motivation to push through the pain.
Dimitri saw that Rose was struggling. Her weak, determined little flurries made him want to wrap her in his arms and whisper that he'd always be there to protect her, but in reality he couldn't afford to coddle her. With a notorious outlaw on the loose, the thought of his beautiful Roza defenceless against such a threat had his stomach in knots, and he was pushing her to her absolute limit in hopes of speeding her progress.
'So… how did you learn to fight?' Rose halted mid-way through the training exercise, needing an excuse to recover her breath. If they'd been keeping score of her bout against the flourbag, Boris probably would have won.
'Uh-uh. I talk. You keep practicing,' Dimitri gave her a knowing look. Resetting the position of her feet to improve her balance and power, he instructed her to repeat the exercise.
'My homeland has a long history of bare knuckle fighting,' he explained as she continued to worry the punching bag, walking around to check her technique from another angle. 'The tradition was forbidden by the Emperor before I was born, but I was always fascinated by my father's stories of the great fist fights he'd seen on the frozen lakes of Kazan. When I was a young boy he taught me the knack of it and we would often spar together for fun.'
He paused to adjust the angle of Rose's elbow, his face thoughtful.
'As much as I hate the man he became, I'll always be grateful my father taught me how to use my fists,' he looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them as he spoke. 'When I became the man of the house, I was able to use the skills he taught me to protect my mother and sisters... And since I moved to America, those same skills have saved my life on countless occasions. Maybe one day I'll even need them to protect myself against you, Miss Roza,' he suggested, biting back a grin as the girl delivered a wobbly-armed strike that wouldn't have bothered a mouse.
The smack of knuckles against canvas petered out as Rose realised he was making fun of her. The cheeky devil! Well, she might not be an expert fighter yet, but she figured she'd learnt enough to take down the cock-sure deputy with no problem. Feeling the nervous energy building up in her chest, Rose followed her instincts - letting out a small battle cry as she twisted around in a surprise attack to deliver a left hook under Dimitri's ribs.
The man read her body long before she had any chance of making contact, and he swatted her hand away with ease. 'Don't start something you can't finish, Roza,' he warned, though his eyes crinkled with humour as he redirected her efforts back towards the punching bag.
'Hah! You couldn't handle me if you tried, cowboy,' the girl scoffed. Finding her second wind, she launched a new assault on the bag, performing a left-right combination then adding a knee at the end. Dimitri hadn't taught her that last part, and he watched on in fascination as Rose proceeded to dance around her victim, improvising a series of unorthodox moves in a fearless exhibition of her fighting prowess. Arms flailed, knees jabbed and legs kicked - the passionate attack accompanied by little grunts and exclamations that brought a wide smile to the deputy's lips.
'You want a taste of this?' she sent him a challenge, not really caring if he refused to take the bait – she was having plenty of fun on her own!
He resisted as long as he could, but eventually the sight of Rose Hathaway dressed in men's clothing, flinging her body about with wild abandon, became too much for him to handle. The walls of self-control Dimitri had built up around himself began to crumble and the voice that always told him to stop and think suddenly shouted for him to let go - relax - just have some fun.
'Hey, Roza,' he murmured from behind her. 'Think quick.'
Without moving from his position, Dimitri prodded the back of her knee with the toe of his boot and she squealed as her leg collapsed out from underneath her, sending her buckling to the ground. At the last possible moment, the big man decided to take mercy and he knelt swiftly, catching her just before she hit the dirt; one arm wrapped under her shoulders, the other reaching over her to support her waist. Rose blinked dumbly, trying to work out what had happened. One second she'd been standing at the punching bag, and now she was on her back, cradled in Deputy Belikov's arms, looking up into a pair of chocolate brown eyes that set her whole body on fire.
'Miss Roza,' he looked almost as shocked as she did - his eyes roving over her face and hair almost reverently, his body frozen to the spot.
She was so beautiful, her face flushed from her exertions, her skin luminescent. Strands of hair were plastered to her forehead, moist with perspiration, and before he could stop himself, Dimitri had shifted her weight onto his knee, bringing his hand up to capture one loose tendril and winding it around his finger. Wide-eyed and boneless in his arms – this would be how she looked after... He gulped.
Breathless under the intensity of his gaze and feeling giddy with pleasure, Rose made no effort to extricate herself from the deputy's grasp. 'Mr Belikov!' she gasped in mock indignation, a playful smile pulling up at the corners of her mouth. 'Think of your reputation!'
He blushed furiously, quickly drawing them up to stand and stepping back to create some distance between them. 'I'm sorry. That was out of line,' he avoided her eyes.
'What was? How you tripped me over or how you caught me?' Rose demanded, her breathing still uneven and her thoughts clouded by feelings of confusion and hurt. Every time they got closer he always pulled away again. What was he so afraid of?
Dimitri ignored her question. 'We should probably head back now. It must be getting late,' he went to retrieve his duster, shrugging it on over his shoulders and turning to leave.
Rose frowned after him. Whatever reasons the deputy had for being cautious, she didn't want their morning to end like this. 'Wait!' she called out, and he paused in his tracks, not trusting himself to turn around. 'One more round with Boris. Please?' Rose implored, not needing to feign the note of desperation in her voice.
The man closed his eyes and sighed. Did she realise how difficult she was making it for him to keep his promise to Alberta? How could he maintain an appropriate distance when all he wanted was to be close to her, to care for her, to ravish her? How much longer could he fight her power over him when she seemed to want this as much as he did?
'For me?' her voice was soft and pleading.
Dimitri turned slowly to face her, forcing himself to remain calm. 'Anything for you, Roza,' he yielded himself to her will, returning to join her at the bag. 'Again, from the beginning.'
She rewarded him with a quiet look - all promise, but no pressure - then turned her attention to the lesson.
'Welcome, little lady,' Adrian greeted her warmly when she arrived at the saloon for their appointment.
It was the morning slump between breakfast and lunch and the dining room was nearly empty.
'I must say – you look divine,' he kissed her hand then twirled her around to inspect the plaid dress she was wearing, it's skirt puffing out from the narrow waistline in a wide silhouette that was the very height of fashion.
Rose snatched her hand away as soon as he released her. 'Thank you, Mr Ivara,' she forced herself to remember her manners. As nice as the flattery was, she wished he wouldn't act so possessively around her all the time – especially considering that the one man she really hoped to impress was standing only a few feet behind her.
Looking up from the transfixing image of Rose Hathaway, a shadow crossed the saloon owner's face. 'Ah. Deputy. I thought you might have been busy this morning, but it seems it is my honour to have you as a guest as well,' his welcome was strained.
Dimitri touched the brim of his hat in greeting. 'Actually, I have some business to discuss with the sheriff. Would it be alright if I left Miss Hathaway in your company for a short while? She has some questions regarding an important case we are working on, and any help you could provide would be greatly appreciated.'
Rose and the deputy had discussed their strategy for this interview and agreed that Mr Ivara would be more forthcoming if he didn't have a certain large and intimidating Russian looking over his shoulder. Dimitri planned to retreat for an hour or so, giving Rose time to ask her questions in private, but he would remain somewhere close-by where she could summon him if she needed assistance.
The dandy brightened immeasurably. 'A pity you can't stay and chat,' he practically glowed with pleasure, immediately turning to his female guest. 'I normally like to take in some sunshine in the mornings. Would you care to join me on the upstairs balcony?'
The girl nodded, looking back at Dimitri for his approval.
'I will be outside with Sheriff Peterson should you need me, Miss Hathaway,' he assured her, then made his exit, trusting his Roza to remain alone with the very attractive, very wealthy, very persuasive man who was making no effort to hide the fact he was utterly besotted with her.
'Lemonade?' Adrian offered when they were seated, having taken the liberty of bringing a jug upstairs with him.
Rose accepted the drink, while her host took a sip of something pink and fruity from his own glass.
'So what is it you need to know, little lady?'
The young woman squared her shoulders. 'I am currently assisting the deputy with an investigation – a delicate case involving a matter of the heart.'
Adrian's eyes flashed wider. 'Ooh. That sounds very juicy. How can help?'
'Well, you know a lot about what goes on around town, don't you?' Rose began.
The man's smile broadened. 'Are we speaking of… gossip, Miss Hathaway?' he leant in conspiratorially.
'Perhaps,' her lips twitched with amusement.
For all his self-importance, Mr Ivara did lend a shine of excitement to everything around him.
'It's fair to say that I… hear things,' he waggled his brows.
'What kind of things?' Rose pressed.
Without warning, the mood changed and Adrian fell silent, his eyes caressing her face and pausing a second longer on her lips before he spoke. 'I demand satisfaction first,' he announced suddenly, his gaze boring into her – impossible to escape.
'What?!' she shifted back from him hurriedly. Rose was prepared to do almost anything to get the information she needed regarding Sonya's death, but Adrian Ivara could get his satisfaction elsewhere. 'Absolutely not!'
He smirked. 'Do you think so ill of me, Miss Hathaway?' it was like he'd read her thoughts. 'I just noticed that your mouth is such a sweet little thing, and your cheekbones are like two proud pillars standing either side of the entrance to nirvana. What I am proposing is a deal. Information in exchange for a portrait.'
'I beg your pardon?' Rose wasn't sure what nirvana meant, but the way Adrian looked at her when said it made her feel uncomfortable.
The man leaned in even closer, clutching her hand. 'I want to paint your portrait. Let me, won't you? Just say yes!' his voice had a genuine longing to it now, which was just as concerning to Rose as if he had wanted to kiss her.
'There's no other way?'
'No other way,' he was resolute.
She sighed in resignation. 'When?'
'Right now!' his face lit up at his victory. 'Sit tight. I'll just get my things.'
Too jittery to remain in her seat, Rose got up and leant her hands on the balcony railing. Her eyes fell upon Dimitri and Alberta strolling along the street below, and the deputy looked up, gesturing to ask if she needed his assistance.
Rose considered his offer for a moment, but she had a feeling that if Deputy Belikov knew what Adrian had asked of her, he would storm upstairs in a fit of rage and ruin any chances she had of securing the information about Sonya Karp. No. She was a big girl and this was one battle she could handle all by herself. Shaking her head in reply, she returned to her chair and waited.
Soon, Adrian returned carrying an expensive-looking wooden box, a sketchbook and a collapsible easel. When his materials were set up, he ducked inside again then returned with one hand hidden behind his back.
'For you, little lady,' he extended his arm out to reveal a small bundle of desert sage sprigs, the silvery stems decorated with vivid purple and blue flowers.
'Thanks?' she looked at them askance, guessing the right thing to do was to give them a sniff.
Adrian's eyes sparkled with amusement. 'No. I want you to hold them – for the painting. Here…,' he hovered over her and adjusted the angle of her chair so her body was slightly offset against the backdrop of the mountains beyond. 'Now hold the sage across your body, like you're cradling a baby,' he instructed.
Rose had a sudden flashback to being cradled in Dimitri's arms earlier that morning and she turned her head, looking off into the distance to hide her eyes from the artist, fearing he would be able to read the secrets that were probably seeping out from her pores this very instant.
'That's it! Hold it there and keep that exact expression!' Adrian flapped, hurrying to prepare his paints then putting brush to paper. 'Now… You were asking about gossip?'
She turned to look at him, mouth open to speak.
'Nooo!' he cried, jumping up and physically setting her head back at the angle she'd had it before. 'Don't move a muscle!'
Rose took him literally. 'Wroerer oor ae, ah ee-ee.'
'You can move you lips, you infuriating minx,' Adrian chuckled.
The girl smirked. 'Whatever you say, Da Vinci,' she clarified, doing her best to remain still but already uncomfortably aware of the restless feeling in her legs. 'I need to know—'
'Wait, don't tell me,' the man held up a hand to cut her off, a playful gleam in his eye. 'Let me guess. What would Miss Hathaway want to know involving a delicate matter of the heart?' he pondered, his paintbrush working as busily as his scheming brain. 'Hmm... I heard an interesting story about why you and Miss Draymore left town last year, if you're curious?' he offered.
'Okay...,' she felt apprehensive.
'Most people believed the pair of you ran away to hide an illicit pregnancy from Madam Kiroy and the sheriff,' a devious look spread across his face. 'The local lads started a pool to guess which of you was in the family way. The odds were 60-40, with you the preferred mother... Actually, it was more like 60-35-5,' he clarified.
Rose narrowed her eyes. 'How do you figure that?'
'A few punters bet that both of you were pregnant!' the man announced joyfully.
When Rose swivelled her head around to glare at Adrian he had paused from his work and was laughing into his drink. Idiot.
'Very funny,' she returned to her pose. 'What else have you heard?'
Mr Ivara set his glass back on the table and reached for his art supplies, changing to a finer brush and wetting the cake of blue paint to get started on the desert sage. 'I may have heard there's a certain young man who's interested in you, Miss Hathaway,' he goaded.
Rose stiffened. Were people starting to talk about her and Deputy Belikov? Surely not – Dimitri had always behaved with complete propriety towards her in public. (Admittedly they had shared a few indecent moments in private, but nobody else knew about that night at Lisa's ranch, or their intimate embrace during this morning's training session.)
'Mason Ashford!' Adrian announced smugly. 'I hear your old flame is ready to make another play for your hand.'
Rose heaved an inward sigh of relief. 'Nice try, Mr Ivara. Mason and I are just friends and that's how things will always stay between us. Everybody knows that.'
The man's eyebrows quirked with interest. He'd only divulged that little gem to see if Rose did indeed have feelings for the Ashford kid. He didn't think the fiery-haired cowboy would be any serious competition against his own charm and social standing, but it was always prudent to check when playing for keeps.
'If you say so, then I believe it with all my heart,' his accent took on a musical lilt, an outward sign of the elation he felt knowing she was his for the taking. 'I do have news about somebody else well known to you,' he went on, enjoying this sordid game of secrets. 'Your little friend Natalie is tipped to become one of the most eligible young ladies in all of California.'
The artist's model turned around in surprise. 'Natalie Dashley? Short, bad complexion, squinty eyes, would talk the leg off a donkey if given half a chance?'
'The same,' he grinned. 'Her father's investment into the transcontinental telegraph line is rumoured to bring such massive returns he'll never have to work again. Natalie will have an immense dowry and every man this side of the continent will want her as his wife.'
'Wow! Lucky Natalie!' Rose struggled to get her head around the idea.
'Don't be so sure about that...,' there was a meaningful pause and Adrian stopped painting to divulge his best titbit so far. 'Right now, the Dashley's don't have more than a silver dollar between them.'
Rose nearly fell off her chair. 'What? But they live so decadently. They have at least four horses for their carriage and Natalie is always so generous buying things for Lisa and me. Wait a minute... How can they afford to pay Mr Dashley's manservants if they don't have any money?'
'Loans,' Adrian's eyes sparkled with intrigue. 'I'm friendly with a certain gentleman who makes his living helping out rich men who have hit a spot of bother – goes by the name of Abe. Well, Abe tells me that Dashley is up to his eyeballs in debt, and he can't pay back what he owes until his proposal for the telegraph line is accepted by the government.'
'And if it isn't accepted?' Rose wondered aloud.
'Poverty. Debtors prison. A mighty fall from the graces of fine society – for the old gentleman and his daughter.'
'How horrible!' Rose took a minute to let it all sink in, then decided it was time to steer the conversation on to the matter of Sonya. 'Now can I take a turn asking the questions?'
Adrian glanced up briefly. 'The floor is yours, little lady,' he said good-naturedly, then returned his attention back to his work – dabbing a rich spread of purple to accentuate the shadow under her jaw.
'Does the name Sonya Karp mean anything to you?' the girl began.
'Hmm. That young woman who killed herself last year,' he confirmed.
The death of the preacher's daughter was such a scandal it had been the talk of the town for months.
Rose nodded, debating how much to tell him. 'The deputy and I are trying to uncover the details of her death for the sake of somebody she left behind. We suspect there may have been a young man from out of town who was paying particular attentions to Miss Karp. Perhaps she turned him down and he bullied her until she felt she had no choice left but to commit suicide?'
Adrian emptied his hands and leaned back, stroking his wispy moustache in thought. 'I can't tell you anything specific, I'm afraid, but there are plenty of cowboys from out of town who pick up employment as seasonal workers on the cattle drives. Your friend Mr Ashford rode with them, so he'd have a fair idea if any of his companions might have formed an attachment to the lady in question.'
Of course. Why didn't she think of that?!
Rose did her best to shoo a fly off her nose without moving her hands.
'And then there's that prat Jesse Zekeman. He's a local of course, but you might technically call him an out-of-towner seeing as his father's lands extend out past the borders of town.'
'What made you think of Mr Zekeman ?' Rose snapped her eyes around in an instant. If that pile of steaming horse manure had anything to do with Sonya's murder she'd kill him herself.
'The fool got into a spot of bother with the Contez family. Apparently there was a love affair between him and the youngest girl, Camilla. It ended badly, and he's been forbidden to set foot near the child on pain of her father shoving the muzzle of his shotgun somewhere very unpleasant.'
Rose stared into the distance, her eyebrows tightly drawn. 'Somehow I'm not surprised.' She just hoped Camilla was alright. Nobody deserved to be at the receiving end of what Jesse Zekeman called romance. 'Is that all, Mr Ivara?' she asked. It had been strangely exhausting sitting still for this long and she wanted to hurry home and discuss everything she'd learned with Dimitri before she forgot any of it.
Adrian put a few finishing strokes to the neckline of her dress then sat back from the page with a sigh of satisfaction. 'There's always Christian O'Hara,' he suggested, beginning to clear away his equipment. 'That fellow who's working for Victor Dashley. He might match the type of man you're looking for. He's uncivil, reclusive, and from what I hear, he's had serious dealings with the law. Mr O'Hara is a good looking enough too – there are plenty of women out there who want to find a man in need of reforming. Maybe Miss Karp saw him as a project to fix, but it backfired on her?'
Adrian stood and made his way over to where Rose was sitting. 'All finished. Want to see?'
The picture was the last thing Rose cared about right now, but she didn't want to seem impolite. 'Very nice,' she glanced at it as she stood up and motioned to leave.
'Nice?' the artist was offended. 'Nice? You're calling my masterpiece nice?!'
'Well I can't very well call it beautiful. It's a picture of me. That would be fairly narcissistic don't you think?'
Adrian blew on the painting, admiring his handiwork. 'Fair enough. Then I'll have to say it for you. You look stunning, Miss Hathaway. Absolutely stunning.'
'I was planning to go out for a ride this afternoon, Miss Roza. Would you like to come with me?' Dimitri asked, when Rose had joined the sheriff and her deputy outside the saloon.
She didn't need any convincing. 'Absolutely!'
'Not,' Alberta finished for her. 'My apologies, Mr Belikov, but I have already arranged to spend some mother-daughter time with Rose after lunch and I don't plan on being stood up just because she got a better offer!'
Dimitri backed off at once. 'I'd never dream of standing in the way of your time together,' he apologised. 'Shall I see you back at the office later, Miss Hathaway? I'm sure we will have things to discuss regarding your interview with Mr Ivara.'
'I'll be there with bells on,' the girl forced a smile, annoyed she had to give up a whole afternoon with Deputy Belikov in favour of slaving over an open fireplace in the hotel's kitchen with her tyrant of a mother.
The baking lesson did not go well.
Rose and Alberta had followed the apple pie recipe side by side; the older woman demonstrating in her bowl, and the younger replicating each step. Unfortunately, Rose's disdain for the process resulted in a pie that was soggy in the middle and horribly burnt around the crust. The filling was greasy and gelatinous, and it was possible she may have used salt instead of sugar. When she finally mounted the front stairs to the sheriff's building, her apron was splattered in globs of flour and butter, and discoloured by a large scorch mark along its lower hem. There was a smear of cinnamon and nutmeg across her face where she'd wiped her eyes, and her thumb was bandaged from an unfortunate incident with the paring knife she'd used to peel her apples.
Looking daggers at the muslin-covered dish in her hands, she rested it on the front porch railing to cool. Deputy Belikov was going to take one look at the hideous creation and run for the hills, she just knew it. Stupid, cruel, awful Alberta!
As if on cue, the door to the sheriff's office opened and the deputy stepped out onto the porch, sniffing the air like he was being drawn by a wonderful smell.
'What. Is. That?' he breathed, making a bee-line for the pie, already reaching out to lift the covering.
'I don't think that's such a good idea,' Rose warned darkly, stepping between the deputy and his quarry. 'I told you I'm not gifted when it comes to cooking. There were a few ingredients I wasn't sure about. I'm certain it's inedible. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if it's poisoned.'
Dimitri raised an eyebrow. 'How about you let me take a peek and I'll decide if it's edible or not,' he suggested, shifting her aside to the accompaniment of his grumbling stomach.
'It's your funeral!' she replied rudely, slumping down to sit in the darkest corner of the porch – her back up against the wall, her head in her hands.
There was a gasp of pleasure from the deputy as he uncovered the dish, bringing it to his nose and sucking in a deep breath. 'This smells delicious, Miss Roza! Let me go and get a spoon.'
Rose hated being patronised. She was considering sneaking off and giving Boris a few belts to ease her frustration, but Dimitri returned in next to no time, collecting the pie from the railing and easing himself down to sit beside her, their hiding spot obscured by the long afternoon shadows.
The girl looked away, scrunching up her eyes so she couldn't see the monstrosity.
'Try some, please,' he begged, after he'd taken a large spoonful for himself, groaning in satisfaction.
Rose pressed her lips tightly together and twisted away from him in blunt refusal.
'Will you stop being silly, Roza,' he chided. 'Just try it!'
'Uh-uh,' she shook her head.
Deputy Belikov was normally a patient man, but he decided it was time to take matters into his own hands.
Rose felt something press against her bottom lip. She resisted half-heartedly then dissolved into a mess of splutters and choked giggles as Dimitri shoved the spoon right into her mouth, using his fingers to catch any crumbs that didn't quite make it to their destination.
'See? Delicious,' he declared, gazing at the sweet, sticky traces that clung to her lips and chin, sorely tempted to kiss the girl clean.
Rose opened her eyes in amazement. 'That's actually not too bad. Maybe I'm not such a terrible cook after all!' she admitted, wiping her face with the back of her hand and looking down at the dish in Dimitri's lap.
She silenced. The pie was perfect; crisp, golden pastry oozing with sweet apple sauce, tiny grains of caramelised sugar clinging to the edges of the crust like jewels. The only trouble was, this wasn't Rose's pie. She was going to let out a wail, bemoaning her failure, but refrained when she saw the look of contentment on Dimitri's face. If a simple pie could make him this happy, then maybe learning to cook properly wasn't such a bad idea after all.
'This is amazing. I love it,' he grinned at her, wolfing down another spoonful and licking his lips.
Rose followed the dart of his tongue, her heart beating quickly. 'I love that you love it,' she responded without thinking, instantly regretting her choice of words. I love that you love it? Christ almighty! What was wrong with her?
She didn't have time to be embarrassed, though, as her attention was distracted by Deputy Belikov. He loaded up the spoon and fed her another mouthful, eyes smiling and belly satisfied.
Somewhere across town, an old sheriff was sitting in her small hotel room, crunching on a burnt, strangely salty slice of pie. It was revolting. But she was happy.
.
Author's Note:
This was one of my favourite chapters to write so far. I love how Dimitri & Adrian each have their own way of dealing with their infatuation for Rose (and I love even more how Rose has hopelessly fallen for her DB, despite the temptations & flattery from Adrian).
Like the gossip session? There might be some clues in there for future chapters ;) Camilla Contez is obviously Camilla Conta - just wanted to give her more of a Hispanic flavour.