Seylah saw plainly that Maurice for all his liveliness was a man with weight on his shoulders. “Don’t be sorry, get even for her, hmm?”
Seylah nodded an accepted the top off he gave her. Maurice even poured a finger more of liquid in August’s glass. “Go on then to your room. No one will trouble the pair of you. I’ll see to it. Need you in fighting shape if you plan on making the McCarron’s pay. I’ll get your horses stabled, make sure they’re rested too.”
Seylah raised her glass to Maurice. “Thank you, sir.” The man took a swig from the bottle he was holding and gave her a gruff, “Ma’am.”
And then he was moving on to the next patron as if the conversation had never happened.
“Let’s go.” August put a hand on her arm and guided her towards the stairs. Neither of them spoke a word until they were standing in front of the door marked with a 4, same as the number carved into the small leather thong tied to the key. Seylah slid the key home and opened the door, August at her back and watching the hallway until she was safely inside. He followed her inside and only when the door was latched did he relax.
“What the hell was that?” He asked, pointing at the door.
“A father’s love.” She pulled off her leather duster and dropped it over the back of a chair. The room was what Maurice had said, dry, warm, a little sparse but comfort wasn’t the reason for their stay. It was tidy which was a pleasant surprise. She turned towards the fireplace and sighed tossing her hat on top of her coat as she considered the dark fireplace.
“You think he was telling us the truth?” August asked, walking past her and working on lighting the fireplace.
“Of course, he was.” There was no doubt in her mind that Maruice had been anything but truthful. The way he looked at his daughter, the heavy look in his eyes at confessing his reason for helping. This was no trap.
“Even so, I’ll go first. You stay behind tomorrow.”
Seylah’s mouth dropped open. “What? August, no! I have to go with you.”
He rose from the fireplace and frowned. “Seylah, it isn’t safe for you.”
“And neither was this, remember? My pas thought I couldn’t do it, and yet here I am getting information to get them back.” She tapped a finger against her chest. “I did that, not you,” she reminded him. “I thought you were on my side. Taking my back if we were to marry.”
August sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Honey, it ain’t like that. We don’t know that barkeep. You saw the saloon. It’s not safe here.”
“That man down there was telling the truth. We have the directions to the McCarrons and I am going to be there with you when we find it. I can do this and you need me watching your back if we are going to get my parents back!”
August held up a hand. “Seylah, I have to protect you. I can’t have you walking into an ambush with me.”
“I can protect myself. I can protect the people I love.”
“You heard that man down there. How he never forgave himself? How do you think I’ll be if anything happened to you?” He gave her a pained look. His eyes showing her a vulnerability she still wasn’t accustomed to seeing when August looked at her, when it came to her. “Seylah, it would be the end of me. You’re everything.”
He stood still, his broad shoulders slumping, yet another sight Seylah was unfamiliar with. She had never seen August like this. He looked fragile, his large frame lent him no strength and she suspected he would crumble like dust at the slightest bump. She came forward reaching for him, fingertips cautious and gentle as she touched him.
She looked up at him. “You can’t protect me from everything, August.” Her palm flattened on his chest.
“That doesn’t mean I can stand by idly while we walk into what might be a trap.”
“It’s not,” she told him, “but I need you to trust me, August. That man was not lying to us. We will find the hilltop and the buildings exactly where he said.” She reached up to cup his jaw and came closer still until the were standing toe-to-toe, their chest brushing with each and every breath.
“Trust me,” she whispered. August took in a deep breath and then gave a nod, his hand