Chastity by Elaine Barbieri

grew gradually louder, the music more bawdy, the laughter more shrill. He had no need to look at the clock now to know that the midnight hour had passed. He had been a part of scenes similar to the one below too many times not to be familiar with its progress.
        Another shriek of female laughter interrupted his thoughts, and Reed grimaced. That would be Trixie… or Pearl… or Ruby. Their names really didn't matter. They were a necessary lot on the frontier… or anywhere, he supposed. He had made use of their particular talents when the need pressed. The exchanges had  been mutually beneficial… and mutually satisfying if he were to believe the smiles that had followed him out the door.
        The sound of restless movement turned Reed, frowning, toward the chair in the corner of the room. Chastity moved again. Her face was shadowed. He recalled the warmth of her body pressed against his side when he had attempted to walk earlier. He remembered the softness of her flesh when his palm brushed her upper arm, and he recalled that when she looked up at him
        Reed halted that thought abruptly. The women below were soft on the outside and hard on the inside. A man knew they could take care of themselves when he walked away. Chastity Lawrence wasn't one of their breed. He had no time for her kind, but she would be immensely useful to him. She was made to order for this particular situation. There wasn't a man alive who would suspect they had entered Indian Territory with devious intent when they saw the innocence in her eyes. She was so inexperienced with the wilderness that he would be able to take as circuitous a route as he pleased in scouting the country where Morgan was hiding. And she was so trusting that she would not suspect for a moment that he was anything but the man he had told her he was.
        The truth be said, Chastity Lawrence needed a keeper. The thought that there was a man waiting for her in Caldwell who was willing to assume that responsibility somehow lent him   little comfort, and Reed tossed impatiently. He stiffened at the resulting pain that stabbed his thigh, and Chastity sat up abruptly. He could see the tension in her shadowed posture as she asked, "Is anything wrong?"
        "No." Regretting his clipped response, Reed cursed under his breath, continuing more graciously, "I'm all right. It was just a twinge. I didn't mean to wake you up."
        "I wasn't sleeping."
        "I suppose not. It's a lively night at the Roundup."
        "Yes."
        "That's not unusual."
        "I suppose it isn't."
        "It's not what you're used to."
        "Well…"
        There was no need for elaboration.
        Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Chastity asked hesitantly, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
        Wariness prickled up Reed's spine. "No, I suppose not."
        "When Mr. Jenkins came to see you earlier… how did you know he was outside the door with a gun?"
        "I didn't."
        "I don't understand."
        "I didn't know it was Jenkins… but I knew someone was there with a gun."
         "How?"
        "I heard the click of the hammer when he drew it back."
       "Oh…"
        He could sense her surprise and the new questions that were raised in her mind. But he had questions of his own. "You said someone is expecting you in Caldwell."
        "Yes."
        Annoyed when Chastity didn't offer more, he nudged, "You should wire him that you'll be delayed."
        "I will."
        He didn't like her hesitation. "Will he be angry?"
        "I hope not."
        "He sounds understanding."
        "Oh, yes. He's a wonderful man."
        "Is he a rancher?"
        "No, he's a banker."
        A banker…
        "Are you visiting, or do you expect to stay?"
        "If all goes well, I hope to stay."
        "Does he want you to stay?"
        "I don't know."
        Reed was suddenly angry. "Any man