Del could have sworn he saw her golden eyes tear up, but she swiped a lock of auburn hair that blew near her face, and when she glanced back at him, she appeared calm and collected. "You may tell him anything you like."
"All right, then. Dobbs can give you a ride back. Your uncle due back tomorrow?"
"Yes, sometime before noon, I think."
"Have chores and things to attend to here, myself. I'll meet him in the afternoon and we'll take care of the damages. Let him know to expect me."
She nodded and looked to Henry.
Del didn't care for the growing certainty that something had blossomed between Miss Bell and one of his ranch hands. He didn't know why it chafed him to realize she'd grown friendly with the young wrangler. Dobbs was a decent kid…But somehow Henry's character wasn't the point for Del. It was the something that chafed, especially if it was any sort of budding romance. The girl's uncle would chew up a kid like Henry and spit him back out like a piece of bad jerky. For pity's sake, Henry had only taken to shaving regularly a few months before.
But Del couldn't overlook the facts. The gal had walked the several miles from her family's emporium clear out here, for no apparent reason…Except the obvious awkward something neither she nor Henry would fess up to, unless it was truly all about a cozy little buggy ride.
Del hated this part of his job. He paid wranglers to work, but he also looked after them. Their welfare, their safety…he couldn't let young Dobbs walk into a buzz saw without trying to prevent disaster. And tangling with this particular gal, considering the sentiments in town, was water way too deep for a green kid. Del focused on their female visitor.
"You know, Jordan—the other fellow who was here with me a couple minutes ago—he often goes into town to play cards in the evenings. The men are finishing up their chores for the day. Why don't you join us for supper, Miss Bell, and I'll have Jordy give you a ride back afterward, since he's likely heading your way anyhow?"
She looked like she wanted to faint at the suggestion. An invisible filament wound around Del's guts and squeezed even as she cast about for an excuse.
"I wouldn't want to impose, and it wouldn't be proper for me to stay out past dusk. But thank you, sir."
"Oh, right," Del drawled, as if just chewing on the notion…ignoring the fact that it wasn't technically proper for her to have come wandering along the river alone out to a ranch full of men in the first place. He glanced back at Dobbs. "Well, why don't you go get that buggy hitched up, while Miss Bell and I review the list of what I owe for?"
Henry obediently disappeared. Del placed his hand on the small of her back, and gently guided Miss Bell toward the house.
"I really shouldn't go inside," she protested weakly. "I hardly know you. I shouldn't have come. I realize that now. But I can't…it wouldn't be seemly."
Like she could attain even "seemly" in the eyes of this town.
Del realized it was true, though. She didn't know him. Now that they were alone, he wanted to remedy that situation. He watched her blush prettily now and realized something even more surprising than her spontaneous visit. Dobbs wasn't man enough yet…but Del himself certainly was. He could handle this strange girl…in fact, he wanted to.
He wanted to remedy the situation of them being strangers. He wanted to kiss her, feel his arms around her. Have those golden eyes of hers—hell yes, bewitching eyes, if he was going to be honest with himself about how this girl affected him—have those eyes staring up into his own as he bent to taste her.
Maybe there was something to talk of her being unusual, after all. Not in the ridiculous, scary way folks were saying. But Del couldn't recall the last time he'd barely spent two minutes in the company of a girl and found himself so….stirred by her. Itching to taste her.
Of course, he wouldn't be so bold as to actually try to kiss her. Today was only the second time he'd even laid eyes on her. But he couldn't stop looking at her mouth and thinking about how it would taste. She stared down at her feet and the dust. He stared at her bottom lip and wondered if it tasted like honey or wildflower nectar.
Then he mentally shook himself. Had he been worried about young Dobbs? If he didn't stop his own carnal train of thought before it pulled out of the station, she'd be able to look at his trousers and guess the nature of his thoughts. He led her just to edge of the porch and its shaded overhang.
"Are you in love with him, or is he just a convenient way to escape?"
She jumped as though he'd tossed a lit tumbleweed at her.
He felt like he'd lit one and had it bounce back in his own face. What the hell had made him ask a crazy thing like that?
"Why would you ask such a strange question?" she demanded, clearly upset. "Mr. Dobbs is a friend. That's all. My only friend in these parts. He stops by the store occasionally. Since I knew he worked out here, I thought it wouldn't be a terrible imposition to ask for a ride back. This is a horse ranch."
"Yeah, and I—"
"But I see you're just like everyone else in this godforsaken excuse for a township. Quick to make assumptions and judge others."
That made him see red.
"No, I'm not. In fact, I'm probably the only man in this whole place who's furious over the things folks have been saying about you. I know the gossip is a load of manure. I was there when the horse crashed into your place, remember?"
"Yes."
It wasn't a spoken word exactly. More of a hiss that dissolved into what Del knew had to be a feminine sob. But she'd turned away, and he'd chosen the shade of the porch, which kept things cloaked in a bit of mystery. He'd wanted to pretend this was some sort of civilized parley. Ha! They were both too jumpy for that.
Both.
Del realized with some astonishment that they were too deeply aware of each other on a primal level for this to be anything but an awkward confrontation. She wasn't interested in Henry the way he'd first thought. Oh no. She was nervous and skittish because of Del himself. Almost afraid to look right at him. Blushing, mortified…yet it wasn't due to rumors or what others thought of her. She'd been brave enough to come on to his land, with a bunch of cowpokes giving her the stink eye. No, the real nervousness started once they found themselves alone together.
He wasn't the only one imagining kissing, maybe a whole lot more…
He cleared his throat. "My given name is Delancy, Miss Bell. I'd be a darned sight more comfortable if you'd use it. Be honored to do the same with you, but we've never been formally introduced. Let me see if I remember…Lila, was it?"
Now she turned around and looked at him as though he'd handed her half the diamonds in King Solomon's mine. Her smile dazzled like noon sun on the Truckee. "Close. Twila," she corrected.
He offered his hand, and she slid her smaller palm atop his. "Honored to make your acquaintance, ma'am." Del suddenly wanted her to keep smiling like that, to keep looking like there was something to like, a reason to be happy in this remote township. So he made it easy for everyone.
"And now that we've officially become acquainted, I hope you'll count me among your friends in Wadsworth. Next time you find yourself down here by my spread, maybe you'll stay to supper and let me drive you home. Ah, here's Henry, with your chariot."
He started to drop her hand, but her fingers closed around his and he felt a mild tug. He dropped his gaze from Henry seated in the buggy back to her face. "Thank you," she whispered.
Seconds later she'd climbed aboard and Del watched them ride off.
Wasn't that just like a damned woman?
He'd gone out of his way to make everything smooth and easy. To give them both an out, to stage a harmless little play…with roles so easy, anybody could fall right in and know the lines to say. She was supposed to change her mind about staying for supper. She was supposed to accept his earlier invitation and then let him drive her home.
Any other gal, Betty Lee or one of the town fillies, would have picked up the cue and gone along. But this one had to go and blow the whole deal to smithereen
s with two words.
She hadn't been thanking him for the use of his wrangler or his buggy or the supper invitation. Or learning her first name, or any of that.
She'd thanked him for caring enough to see the real woman behind the rotten talk.
And that was not playing fair at all. That was just plain lethal. Dammit!
His gut was in such a knot, he doubted he'd even be eating any supper now. Cause in Del's experience, once a man began to see the real woman, he also began to see the real possibilities. He'd glimpsed a couple, just for a second…but a second had been enough.
And a whole lot more disturbing than any crazy talk of hexes and spells. Del figured an evil spell wouldn't work on someone who didn't believe in it. Now powerful animal attraction? That was another story. One that probably couldn't have a happy ending.
CHAPTER 6
Twila kept silent for most of the drive back to the emporium. She'd assumed it would be easy enough to hail Henry and speak to him privately. Indeed, he'd spotted her immediately and gone out to meet her. But she'd attracted all the men's attention, and the notice of Del Mitchell. Absolutely not what she'd intended. Poor Henry had looked so guilty and miserable, she couldn't bring herself to admit the real reason she'd suddenly appeared at the ranch.
So she got an update on any news he had about the Vogels, then admired the scenery. Just as any normal girl would do during a buggy ride. She said nothing about her distress over the visit from the local minister or the real reason she'd gone out to the ranch.
After Henry left her on the front porch and wheeled away in the buggy, she unlocked the emporium back door, chastising herself for letting her imagination get the best of her earlier that day. She now knew the pounding out front had been Delancy Mitchell, wanting to discuss the cost of repairs. She locked the door behind her and headed upstairs, quickly washing up the remains of the squash bread and tea she'd offered Reverend Phillips.
Maybe she'd misconstrued the whole nature of their discussion also. She'd already seen for herself that people here seemed clannish and superstitious. Maybe the reverend took his role a little too seriously, worked too hard at trying to sway folks the other way.
And then too, she reminded herself, she wasn't used to being alone with men. Fletcher and Lucius rarely let her go anywhere, see anyone, without constantly hovering nearby and watching everything she did or said. She knew nothing of how to behave without one or both of them as chaperones. Witness that uncomfortable moment today, on the porch outside Mitchell's ranch house. There in the shadows of his porch, she'd thought there was a fleeting sense of something linking them, almost a palpable force.
It wasn't the first time she'd had that odd notion. The first time she'd seen him, as he thumped into the store the morning of the Grand Disaster—as Uncle Fletcher had rechristened their Grand Opening—she'd felt much the same. Like all the air had been sucked out of the place, like no one and nothing else existed but Del Mitchell. Today it had been stranger still, for it seemed she'd no sooner form a thought when he somehow seemed to know what it was, responding with a shift in his facial expression or stance. With either darkening clouds or brightening glimmers in his blue eyes.
Later, seated in a hot hip bath, she worked a small cake of soap into a lather and wondered at her own foolish notions. A small-town preacher with brimstone and fire in his gaze…A rancher she barely knew somehow reading her mind. She hadn't been inclined to imagine such bizarre things before coming here. What had come over her, Nevada brain fever?
But then, back in Omaha, she never would have imagined her uncle's penchant for upbraiding her smallest action could congeal into a deep-rooted belief she was actually somehow cursed. She would never have guessed that a cowpuncher passing by the store with a skittish horse would lead to the second worst disaster of her young life.
Tears welled in her eyes as she acknowledged the loss of her parents would forever be the ultimate worst. If they were still alive, she wouldn't be in this horrible town. A dusty hellhole where mean-spirited people eagerly took up Lucius' vile accusations about witchery. She wouldn't have had to face a preacher who'd left her shaken and questioning her own salvation. She wouldn't be hearing herself called a Jonah.
And then there was also the matter of the Vogels.
If she'd never been on that ill-fated train west, she wouldn't now have anything to apologize for. She hadn't stolen the necklace, or in any way coveted it or schemed to obtain it. Still, she was convinced no good could come of it remaining in her possession. Having a costly item like that around was akin to keeping a pet rattlesnake or a stick of dynamite. Trouble would inevitably result.
In fact, if she accepted the notion of sins coming back to roost—as the preacher had described her present woes—she might be inclined to see a pattern to recent events. A pattern she'd almost expanded by running away from her family and guardian this afternoon.
Yes, she'd tried very hard not to face the embarrassing truth. She'd gone along the riverbank in search of Henry hoping to run off for good. And somehow Delancy Mitchell had guessed it. She hadn't admitted it, even to herself, instead painting a false picture of simply having "wandered" too far from town.
But the bitter fact was, neither her uncle nor her cousin honestly cared about her. They controlled everything in her life, left her nothing of her own. Wait. That wasn't exactly true. Her wits were the only things she'd ever really had. She wasn't about to let the small-minded people of this town or her detestable relations steal them away or force her to lose them.
She rose and dried herself off. She had to think logically. Nothing would be gained by losing her head over some nasty rumors or unwanted religious advice from that zealot Phillips. Twila had to locate the Vogels and return the jewelry. Maybe they'd pay her a reward…which could be enough to kiss Uncle Fletcher and Lucius farewell for good.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
* * *
Del calculated the sum at the bottom of the column of numbers again and frowned. He didn't want Fletcher Bell to try to delude him as to the actual costs. Del fully intended to ask for receipts, a copy of the glazer's bill, and other documentation to prove the claim for damages to the emporium. But a man needed some negotiating room in this kind of situation. And Del wanted to throw a little extra in, if he could, to foster good will.
Problem was, he wasn't seeing a whole lot of excess to throw anywhere. Still, he'd always been as good as his word. If it meant doing without a few small luxuries—like poker games and liquor at Minerva's the next few weeks—he'd cut back and scrimp. But first he had to go into town and see what kind of agreement he and Bell could reach. He was reviewing the numbers one more time when he heard a question from the doorway to his office.
"You going over to that bewitched Bell place alone? Might be safer to have somebody ride with you…you know, in case there's trouble," Jordy observed.
"Fletcher Bell's a storekeeper," Del reminded tightly. "I think I can hold my own with him, even if things get heated. Which they won't. I'm there to make amends."
"Ain't him you need to worry about," Jordan muttered half under his breath.
"I told you what I think about the talk of hexes and spells. It's bull crap," Del snapped.
Jordy's manner was casual. "Kind of touchy on the subject of gossip about the Bell girl, aren't you?"
Del huffed in exasperation. "Look, Jordy. Leon and I both explained to you, Sandy, and half the crew that the whole accident didn't happen like folks are saying. To blame some female who just happened to have a broom in her hands is plumb crazy."
"Her cousin's the one who started telling it that way," Jordan countered.
Del's eyes narrowed. "You sure about that? Or is this just another of your little digs, a way to provoke me into picking a fight, cause you're looking for some free entertainment? You'd love for me to go over to that emporium and kick up some more dust."
"I swear, Del, I was in the barber shop and I heard him tell the tale myself.
He swore his cousin waved her broomstick and said some mumble-jumble, and the next thing he knew, he flew off that ladder and the horse was snorting and pawing, out to kill him."
"That pony's beginning to sound more like a fire-breathing dragon than four hooves with a tail," Del noted in disgust. "The animal wasn't within six feet of him once they both fell inside that store. Pony went left, he fell right. Can't believe he'd say his cousin waved her broom and put a hex on the beast."
Jordy shrugged. "If you think she's getting the short end of the horn due to her cousin lying about what happened, maybe you should say so to her uncle while you're there. He probably doesn't know what his son's been saying. If you're going to settle things, maybe it's best to settle them all the way round."
Del hated to admit that for once Jordy might be right. Del grabbed his hat off the table and crossed to the front door, stepping out in the sunshine beside Jordan. "Reckon that's just what I should do. I heard the locals are even giving her the cold shoulder at church. Now how neighborly is that? Ain't right, especially if it's cause her own cousin's been poisoning people against her."
"Maybe he wishes he was as good-looking as she is."
Del paused on his way to the barn. "You think she's nice looking? You barely got a glimpse of her."
Jordy grinned. "She had a right decent figure, shiny hair. I'll just bet she's got those big, soulful brown eyes I like, too.
"You lose. They're not cocoa brown. Lighter, more like bottled honey. Golden."
Jordan snorted in derision. "Now how the hell can anybody figure her for a witch, then? Everybody knows witches have dark eyes. Black. Fathomless, like pits."
Del kept walking toward the barn. Jordan trailed along, chattering about nothing. Del saddled up his favorite mount, a big palomino. He'd just led Caramel out of the barn when Jordy struck pay dirt with his next remark.
"Well, you done put a whole new coat of paint on things from what I'd been thinking. Since everybody knows you were figuring to get hitched months ago, maybe you ought to talk to her uncle about courting her, too."
Hell's Belle Page 6
