“Don’t get carried away with those scissors, Miss Bowen. I don’t like my hair too short. It’s not my style. Never was.”
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Cassidy.” She emphasized the use of his last name to show she could play his game. “Now stop talking and keep your head facing toward that wall or I won’t be held responsible for the outcome.” She pointed with her barber scissors and snipped a couple of times close to his ear to make her point.
He groused, but she could tell he wasn’t serious in his grumblings. She ran her comb through his hair pulling the wet tangles out of it. Following the curve of his head with her hand, she smoothed his hair as she went. Emma liked the way his hair fell in long curls over his shoulder. Most of all, she liked the way it felt through her fingers—soft and thick.
Emma parted his hair and pulled a hank away from his head holding it tight between her fingers. “Okay, here I go.”
He snorted, but he kept his head still. She grinned at the back of his head and snipped at his hair, repeating the process over and over again until she had managed to tame his wild, unruly curls.
Twenty minutes later, a large portion of his hair lay on the kitchen floor surrounding them. “There you go. All finished. Now how about that shave…”
“I think I’d like to know how much experience you’ve had with a straight razor before I allow you access to my throat.”
“I think I have enough experience that I am confident I won’t cut your throat unless I aim to, so I suggest you don’t give me any reason.” She teased him, but unlike earlier when he teased her back, he stood and ripped the sheet from his neck sending the clothespin holding it together flying across the room. He glared. “You can joke all you want about murder, but I’ve seen it firsthand and I don’t find it a subject appropriate for jokes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had enough grooming for one day.”
She watched him stalk out of the kitchen, one hand clutching the waistband of his baggy jeans. Moments later, she heard the front door slam and then the house returned to silence. “Well, what was that all about?” She wondered what she could have said to upset the man. Surely, he didn’t think she was serious about cutting his throat…did he?
Sarah walked into the room with the baby in her arms. “Where’s Colin? I thought you were giving him a haircut and a shave?”
Emma grabbed the broom in the corner of the kitchen and began to sweep the hair on the floor into a neat pile. “I did. I mean…I was. I gave him a haircut and when I told him I was ready to give him a shave, he questioned my abilities with a straight razor. I thought he was joking and when I teased him back and told him not to give me a reason to cut his throat, he said murder wasn’t a joking matter and then stormed out.”
“So you’re saying that was Colin who slammed the front door just now?”
“Yes. He just got up and left. I’m really sorry if I upset him. It wasn’t my intention at all.”
Sarah inhaled a deep breath. A frown creased her forehead indicating her worries about the situation. “Oh, dear. Quinn left the house a while ago. He went to check on his deputy at the jailhouse and from what he told me of his trip to Tennessee to rescue Colin and the situation he found his brother in, Colin probably shouldn’t be left alone.”
“I should go after him then. I feel like it’s my fault he left.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Besides, we have no clue where Colin would go. I mean, he doesn’t know anyone in town, so I have no idea where to tell you to start looking for him. Maybe you should go to Quinn’s office instead. If you can catch him before he leaves for his evening rounds, then he can look for his brother. I’d go find Quinn myself, but I have to feed the baby and Becca is upstairs getting ready for bed.” Sarah lamented the situation, while jostling her son in her arms to keep him quiet.
Emma finished sweeping the pile of hair off the floor and dumping into the trash bin. “I think I should at least try to find him, before he gets himself into trouble.”
She replaced the broom against the wall and turned to Sarah. “I’ll stop by Quinn’s office and let him know what’s happened and then I’ll take a look around town. I’ll get my coat and head out before he has too much of a head start.”
Emma turned to go when Sarah reached out and touched her arm. “Be careful, Emma. We don’t really know what all Colin has been through, and Quinn says he’s not himself these days. I don’t know what he may do if he’s pushed too hard.”
“I’ll be careful. I promise. But in the short time I’ve known him, I’ve caught a glimpse of what I believe to be the real Colin. And behind the brooding beast he pretends to be, I saw a man in pain. I’m not concerned that he would hurt me, but I’ll be careful,” Emma promised.
Sarah nodded her understanding. Emma left the kitchen and ran upstairs to gather her coat, bonnet, and gloves. She could hear the wind whistling around the shutters of the house and she could feel the dampness in the air. A winter storm could be coming and as much as she was looking forward to her first white Christmas, she knew not to underestimate how cold it got in Angel Creek. Both Julia and Sarah had warned her, it was a far cry from the winters in Charleston.
Emma buttoned her coat all the way up as far as it would go, then wrapped her warm scarf around her neck. With her knit stocking cap pulled down snugly over her hears, she left the house by the front door, closing it quietly behind her.
The crisp, cold air of the late-November sent a ripple of shivers through her body.
The sun had set at least an hour ago and the streets were dark except for the occasional streetlight illuminating the dark wooden boardwalks. She had no idea where to start her search, so perhaps Sarah’s suggestion to tell Quinn about what happened should be her first stop. Her boot heels clattered on the wooden planks of the raised boardwalk sending the sounds ricocheting between the buildings.
The jail was only a little more than a block or two up the street. Emma headed in that direction hoping to catch Quinn before he left for his evening rounds. She heard the pinging keys of the saloon’s piano just up the street. “Well, that’s rather convenient for Quinn to have the saloon across the street from his jail cells. He doesn’t have to haul his drunken guests far to give them a good night’s sleep in a cell, now does he?” Emma mused.
She was about to cross the street to the jail when one of the saloon’s patrons stumbled out of the doors in front of her. The man tipped his hat and apologized to her when he saw her standing there and then staggered his way down the street disappearing into the darkness. The saloon door stood open and it was then she caught sight of the missing Mr. Colin Cassidy.
“So that’s where you ran off too,” she mumbled. “How about a little company, Yankee Blue?”
Chapter 7
Colin was getting sick and tired of other people making his decisions for him. Quinn had no business kidnapping him and forcing him to come back here against his will. Who did his brother think he was anyway? Just because he wore a badge in this town didn’t mean he could imprison innocent people anywhere he chose.
The word taunted him. Innocent. Colin knew he was anything but innocent. And that’s why he was sitting at a corner table in the back of a saloon hell-bent on drowning his guilt inside the biggest whiskey bottle he could find.
When he’d ordered the whiskey from the bartender, he’d told the man he was Quinn’s brother hoping that would buy him a little time to get roaring drunk before anybody guessed the truth about him. Lucky for him, his plan worked. The bartender handed over the bottle without question. Said he’d put it on Quinn’s tab. Colin grimaced. There was gonna be hell to pay when is brother found out, but right now all he wanted to do was forget.
He had chosen a table in the back of the room where he could sit in the semi-darkness and watch the other losers in the saloon act a fool without having to participate in their antics. And he hated it when people wanted to talk to him, when all he wanted to do was drink. It was an annoyance he didn’t need.
With his back to the wall, Colin pulled the cork out of the full bottle of whiskey and filled his glass. He sat and stared at the glass of amber-colored liquid for a second or two wondering how such a benign thing could do so much damage. He hated how he felt when he was drunk: out of control and out of options. But what he hated even more was how he felt when he remembered all those men who died—because of him.
He grabbed the glass and threw the contents down his throat before he changed his mind. He gulped it down to get past the initial foul taste of the stuff. A few more shots and he wouldn’t care how bad it tasted. And then, after a few more, his brain would begin to numb, his emotions would level out, and he just wouldn’t care anymore.
Whiskey was both a blessing and a curse. Right now, he considered it a blessing. Tomorrow morning, the curse would reappear in the form of a splitting headache and roiling belly. It was nothing more than he deserved.
He poured a third glass full and was just about to down it too when a shadow crossed his table and blocked out what little glow the overhead lights provided. Colin looked up expecting to see his brother standing over him with righteous indignation and judgment. Instead, it was the little southern woman from Charleston who’d tracked him down. He couldn’t decide if he was angry or impressed. Maybe another shot would settle his indecision.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked and without waiting for his answer, she took off her coat, scarf, and hat setting them in the empty chair beside them.
“Touché on your ingenuity, Miss Rebel. You found me. Now get the hell outta here and leave me alone.” He deliberately poured another shot and drank it down in front of her. He hoped to make a point to his unwelcome guardian that he was gonna do whatever the hell he wanted to do and no one was gonna stop him.
“Don’t give me all the credit, Colin. It isn’t hard to find a man hell-bent on dying in a bottle of whiskey, and you are more obvious than most. So obvious in fact, one could assume you don’t really want to die.” The woman pulled out the chair next to him and sat down uninvited.
“I don’t recall asking for your company. Or your opinion. So, if you don’t mind—”
“Oh, but I do mind. I feel responsible for you being here. I can see now how my sense of humor missed its mark and I am here to apologize. Will you let me? It would mean a lot to me if you did.”
Colin studied the woman’s face. He saw no signs of sarcasm or deceit. Why the hell did she care whether he was upset or not?
“Apology accepted. Now, you can go with a clear conscience.” He reached for the bottle to pour himself another shot when her warm slender fingers on his arm stopped him.
“Please, is there anything I can do to convince you to come back home? I know Sarah and your brother would appreciate it if you would. They are worried about you, Colin. Really worried.”
He didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t his fault his brother had taken it upon himself to save his no-good drunk of a little brother. “Well, that’s their problem. Not mine. I didn’t ask them to worry. Or care. Now, I’ve accepted your apology and I can assure you that your comment isn’t the reason I came here. So, if you don’t mind…” Colin watched her watching him. He sensed she saw too much and it made him uncomfortable.
“I’ve learned over the last few years that it’s never fun to drink alone and it’s cold outside.” She turned to the nearest waitress. “Miss? Would you mind bringing another glass, please?”
The waitress hurried away, and Colin studied the woman sitting across from him. “I would prefer to be alone if you don’t mind.” He tossed another glass full of whiskey down his throat and poured another. If he couldn’t politely convince her to go, then he’d shock her sensibilities into leaving him alone.
“Oh, but I do mind. Like I said, it’s never fun to drink alone.” She smiled a sweet smile and sent a casual look around the room as if spending time in a saloon was an everyday occurrence. Although he knew almost nothing about the woman, his instincts told him places like this wasn’t something she was used to inhabiting. Not that he cared one way or another he reminded himself.
“I’m not drinking for fun, Miss Bowen.” He tossed another full glass back. Now he was starting to feel the effects of the whiskey, and it was a two-edged sword. On the one side, it had the desired effect of numbing his emotional pain but on the other side, it made for a very uncomfortable recovery the next morning. He’d deal with that when he had to.
“If not for fun, then why?” She pushed for an answer.
“That’s none of your business, Miss Bowen.” He emphasized her name to show her he had no intention of getting friendly. “What I do, or don’t do, isn’t your concern.” Why the hell did she care anyway? She was from the south. He was from the north. Their fundamental differences were insurmountable. And he of all people knew they could never see eye-to-eye on anything.
The waitress brought the glass Emma had requested and set in down in front of her. His unwanted companion reached across the table, took the bottle out of his hand, and poured herself a drink. “Here’s to all of those men and women who won’t get a second chance at life, Mr. Cassidy. And here’s to not squandering the one we have.” She offered him a sad smile and lifted her glass to salute him. Colin watched a mist of tears cloud her pretty blue eyes just before she tossed the whiskey back giving just the barest hint of a shiver. It was obvious to Colin she wasn’t used to drinking the hard stuff so why the hell was she here?
Before he could ask the question, the familiar voice of his brother interrupted his thoughts. “What the hell is going on here?” Colin looked up to see the now infamous scowl of displeasure on his brother’s face. This time, Quinn wore his badge. Did he intend to arrest him? And what would he charge Colin with? Sitting quietly and drinking? Colin didn’t think the law provided for misuse of a lawman’s power, but he knew the world was full of injustice because he had seen it first-hand. And lived it.
Colin remained in his chair watching his brother to see what he would do next, but his senses were on high alert. He felt the stares of a few curious onlookers interested to know what the sheriff of their town was up to and what Colin had done to garner the lawman’s attention.
“I asked you a question, Colin. What the hell are you doing here?” his brother demanded to know.
He could refuse to answer, but he knew Quinn well enough to know his brother would keep insisting until one of them lost their temper. Might as well get this over with. “I would think it obvious, sheriff, but if you must know, I’m sitting here having a drink. Is that against the law in your town?” He raised his eyebrow in question at his brother.
“You know it’s not, but under the circumstances I would think…”
“Under what circumstances, Quinn? Because you think I’m a drunk? Or because you dragged me halfway across the country against my will? Or is it that you think I should be grateful to you for saving me from myself?”
Colin was growing angry with his brother’s high-handedness and it was fueled by his belly full of alcohol. He stood. If he was going to have to go another round with his brother, he at least wanted to do it on his feet.
His chair legs scraped against the floor and the room grew quiet. Suddenly, the woman sitting across from him rose and placed a hand on Quinn’s arm. “I do apologize, Quinn, um…Sheriff Cassidy. It is my fault that Colin is in here. I…was feeling overwhelmed with all the changes in my life since…I left Charleston, and I didn’t know what else to do…so I came in here…and he was kind enough to accompany me…so I wouldn’t come to any harm.”
Colin and Quinn both looked at Emma in surprise. Emma continued with her explanation.
“I thought since Charity and Lewis owned the saloon, it would be alright if I came in here, but I can see the error of my thinking. I wanted to talk to Charity, you know, bend her ear a bit. But she wasn’t here so I sat down and…then Colin came in and offered to sit with me. I do apologize if I’ve done something wrong. It wasn’t my intention at all. And I hope you don’
t think less of me. I wouldn’t want to do anything to embarrass you or Sarah among the citizens of Angel Creek. You’ve been so kind and gracious inviting me to stay in your home.”
Colin shot a curious glance to his brother who was still staring at Emma in surprise. “Um, no. I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time adjusting, Emma. I might suggest next time you’re in need of an ear, let Sarah know. Perhaps she can invite some of your friends over to the house…or something more suitable can be arranged. An unprotected woman can’t be too careful in a place like this regardless of who owns it.”
“I promise, sheriff. I’ll think before I act in the future, but I wasn’t unprotected. Colin is here.” Emma assured him.
Quinn shot him another suspicious look. “I see. Well then, Colin, would you mind escorting Miss Bowen back to the house? I’d feel better about the two—”
“I’ll see to it.” Colin interrupted him because he sensed there was more Quinn was worried about than just Emma being out of this place.
“Thank you.” His brother turned and nodded to a few curious bystanders. Their curiosity waned when they saw there would be no drama today, so they turned around and continued what they were doing before the unexpected interaction between the couple and their town’s sheriff.
Colin watched his brother leave the saloon and then he turned his full attention to the woman sitting across from him. She reached over and poured herself another drink and raised her eyebrows to him in question. “Are we staying or are we going?” she asked and downed the second glass of whiskey.
“We’re going.”
Chapter 8
Emma didn’t rise from the table when Colin urged her to go. Instead, she pretended a headache by closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “Give me a minute, please,” she begged. She heard him sit again but he didn’t reach for the bottle.
Emma Page 5
