Justin's Bride. Susan Mallery

      She shook her head.

      He bit back a curse. There was no one he trusted, no one he could turn to. Looks like the responsibility was his, at least for tonight. “Come on, Bonnie. I’ll take you back to my hotel and get you something to eat.” He started toward the door. “Thomas, you wait for Wyatt and find out what he learned. If it’s important, come tell me at the hotel, otherwise it can wait until morning. While you’re here, see if you can find any information on another murder. It happened about four years ago. Another saloon girl. The two cases may be related.”

      Thomas raised his eyebrows. “How?”

      “I don’t know,” Justin admitted. “It’s just a feeling.” When he reached the door, he realized Bonnie hadn’t moved. The little girl stood where he’d left her. She was still staring at her shoes. “Come on, honey. I’m going to take you home with me. You’ll have something to eat, and maybe a hot bath.”

      Slowly, she raised her head toward him. Big blue eyes shone with terror. “It’s going to be all right,” he promised.

      She didn’t budge. He thought about picking her up, but that would probably scare her more. Besides, she was filthy. He settled for holding out his hand.

      “Is there really food?” she asked.

      He nodded.

      She took several shuffling steps toward him, then shyly reached for his hand. Her fingers were chilled. He bent over and touched her coat. It was threadbare. How could Laurie have left her daughter with that woman? He cursed silently, figuring he would never get an answer now.

      He led Bonnie out of the office and toward the hotel. The three-story building was the largest one in town. It had been built in the last year and contained every modern convenience. When he entered, tugging Bonnie along with him, the desk clerk looked up, then turned bright red, as if he were about to have apoplexy.

      “Mr. Kincaid, that child! She’s filthy.”

      “I know, Newt.” Justin stopped at the front desk and reached into his vest pocket for several coins. “There’s a room adjoining mine. Is it vacant?”

      Newt adjusted his glasses, leaned over the counter and stared down at the child. “Yes, sir, but I don’t think—”

      “Good. Send up a maid with hot water for a bath, and deliver two dinners from the dining room.”

      “But sir!”

      “The key?”

      Newt turned around and pulled it out of the box. “Mr. Kincaid, I think I need to discuss this with the manager. You can’t bring a lady in here alone.”

      Justin rolled his eyes and took the key. “She’s five years old.”

      Bonnie tugged on his arm. “Mister, I’m six.”

      “She’s six. Tell them to hurry the water.”

      Justin tossed the coins on the desk and started up the stairs. Newt was still spluttering behind him. When they entered his room, he let go of Bonnie’s hand and unlocked the door between the two rooms.

      “You’ll be in here,” he said, motioning to the adjoining bedroom.

      He glanced around. It wasn’t quite as spacious as his room. The bed was smaller, the windows not as wide. But it would do. The hotel was clean, the rugs were taken out and beaten regularly, the sheets changed weekly. He walked around the room and pointed out the pitcher and basin, opened the armoire, showed her the lantern.

      She stood in the doorway between the two rooms and stared at him. Big eyes got bigger. Both her arms hung at her sides with her hands balled into fists. For a heart-stopping second he thought she was going to cry.

      “What’s wrong, Bonnie?”

      She shook her head and didn’t speak. Before he could ask again, there was a knock on her door. He opened it. Two teenage boys carried in a tub, followed by three more with buckets of hot water. When the tub was filled, a maid came in, bringing towels and soap.

      “Will there be anything else?” she asked.

      He glanced at her, then the water. “I think there might be. Would you mind bathing a rather small little girl?”

      “Sir?”

      The maid wasn’t much more than a child herself, he realized, studying her upturned nose and brown eyes. With her neat cap and apron, she looked older, but she couldn’t be older than sixteen.

      “What’s your name?” he asked.

      “Alice.”

      He grinned.

      “It’s not a funny name, sir.”

      “I know. It’s just...” He paused. He didn’t really want to explain that Megan had just named a calico kitten Alice.

      “Alice, there’s a little girl in my room. She needs a bath. I think it would be easier for her if you helped her rather than if I did.”

      “Yes, sir.” Alice smiled. “I’ve got seven younger brothers and sisters. I know plenty about bathing a young’un.”

      “Wonderful.” He turned. “Bonnie, Alice here is going to—”

      But Bonnie wasn’t standing in the doorway. He frowned and walked into his room. She wasn’t there, either. Everything was as he’d left it. He glanced toward the door. Had she run off? No, he would have heard her leaving. Then where was she?

      He walked around the bed. Part of the carpet had been turned up, as if someone had tripped over the edge. He bent down and touched it, then got on his hands and knees and looked under the four-poster bed. Bonnie lay on her belly up by the headboard. He could see her face. She had her eyes tightly shut.

      “Are you hiding?” he asked.

      She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Yes.”

      “Why?”

      “I’m scared.”

      She looked so small huddled there. With her tattered clothes and dirty face. She also smelled like a sheep.

      “Are you afraid of taking a bath? There’s a nice lady, whose name is Alice. She’s going to help you. They sent up some soap. I think it smells nice.”

      “Will it hurt?”

      “No. It’s warm water. You’ll feel toasty when you’re done. Then we’ll have something to eat. Would you like that?”

      Instead of answering, Bonnie shimmied out from under the bed. Alice stood in the doorway between the two rooms and smiled encouragingly.

      “Hello,” she said. “Can I help you bathe?” She held out her hand, then wrinkled her nose. “What do you want me to do with her clothes, sir?”

      Justin opened his mouth, then closed it. “Wash them?”

      “Does she have others? These won’t be dry by morning.”

      “No, Mrs. Jarvis didn’t leave anything.” He thought for a moment. “Here.” He opened the armoire and pulled out one of his shirts. “Put her in this after her bath. Take her clothes outside, brush them and let them air. In the morning, I’ll find her something else.”

      When he was alone in his room, he sank onto the window seat and sighed. He’d been back in Landing exactly two days. In that time he’d fought with Megan twice, kissed her, found out about a murder, insulted half the women in town by asking them about a dead saloon girl, learned about a second murder and found himself responsible for a small child.

      A knock sounded on the door. A cheerful male voice called out that it was a delivery from the dining room. As he rose to let the man in, he hoped they’d remembered to bring whiskey because he sure as hell needed a drink.

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