Free Wicked Wyoming Nights by Leigh Greenwood Page B

cowboy before your own uncle?”
    “He said he wouldn’t let anyone touch me.”
    Ira was nonplussed. He’d never encountered opposition from Eliza. That she would claim the protection of a stranger was the crowning blow.
    “I swear I’ll sing every night,” Eliza promised. “And school is only for the summer. Please, Uncle, it’s the only thing I’ve ever asked you to do for me.”
    “And if I don’t?” he challenged.
    “I won’t sing.” The tiny thread of determination was garnering strength, and Eliza spoke her words with stiffening resolve.
    “Only if it doesn’t affect your singing,” Ira said, sufficiently staggered by the thought of losing the money Eliza brought in to own himself beaten.
    “Thank you, Uncle,” Eliza said, giving him an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “I promise you won’t regret it. She gathered up her cape and hurried from the room, leaving Ira to wonder what had brought about this change in his niece.
    “Miss Smallwood?”
    Eliza nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun about to find herself looking up into Cord Stedman’s smiling face, and she was suddenly so addle-brained she could only stare at him in confusion. Each detail of his appearance was burned into her brain, yet every time she saw him, his physical magnetism stunned and bewildered her as completely as it had that first day by the creek. She didn’t know why she should be so breathless—she had only covered half the distance from the saloon to the Baylises’ store—but she felt like she needed to sit down.
    “I wanted to thank you for the other night,” she muttered absently. The warmth in his eyes caused her heart to flutter so badly she was in danger of losing her train of thought. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there”
    “Nothing much, but they won’t bother you again.”
    “No,” she said lowering her eyes. “Not after what you did.”
    “They’re just boys,” Cord told her, as though it explained everything. “They don’t know how to treat a lady.”
    “Maybe they don’t think a woman who sings in a saloon is a lady. I know Lavinia’s not.”
    “You shouldn’t know anything about women like that,” Cord said, a dark expression settling over his face.
    “I don’t really, but I can’t help but guess some things.”
    “What are you doing going to her place?” Cord demanded with a spurt of anger.
    “Lucy helps me dress. I don’t know anybody else except Mrs. Baylis.”
    “There has to be some way to keep you out of that place. Lucy may be a good soul, but the less said about Lavinia the better.”
    Cord lapsed into thought and Eliza gazed up at him in beatific bewilderment. It was so difficult to believe anyone would take an interest in her, she’d nearly talked herself into believing she’d imagined the other night, but here he was worrying about her again. No girl could have ever been as happy as she was just now.
    “You have a mighty pretty voice, but you shouldn’t be singing in a saloon either.” Eliza flushed with pleasure.
    “I have to. At last Uncle Ira has a chance to make a go of something, and I can’t let him fail because of me.”
    “He’ll make money without you.”
    “But not as much, and he has set his heart on having the biggest saloon in Buffalo. This is the first time he’s asked me to do anything except keep house. I owe him something for taking care of me all these years.”
    “You’re mighty loyal.”
    “I promised Aunt Sarah I’d take care of him. Besides, I don’t have any other family.”
    “Don’t you have any men friends?” She was too busy blushing to notice the increased gravity in his expression.
    “Men don’t like plain girls, and it’s hard to look pretty in a faded dress with dirt on your nose and perspiration on your forehead.”
    “You look pretty to me,” Cord said softly. “I thought so before I ever saw you in that red dress.”
    “I don’t like to wear it,” she confessed, “but Uncle