Her Outlaw Heart
Page 13
He shook her a little. “If Tangus is alive and hanging around town, we don’t know what he’s wearing, or if he has a horse, if he’s clean shaven or bearded. He could look like anyone. I might have passed him on the street without knowing it.”
Feeling sick, Jodee met his eyes. “I thought I saw him that first morning when I was in the cell. I was looking out the door…Remember how it snowed in the night? We saw tracks.”
Corbet’s eyes bored holes through her defenses. Her emotions began whirling out of control. If she said more, Corbet would never trust her again.
“I was so afraid of you,” she whispered, desperate to make him understand. “I don’t want to be with Burl Tangus! I don’t know what he’s planning! But if he’s here, he’s planning something. If he’s here for me, I won’t go.”
Her mind whirled. Burl wasn’t dead. Her fear of him filled the jailhouse as completely as if he were there holding a pistol on them right then.
“You claimed there was nothing between you.”
“There ain’t! Isn’t! But he used to threaten me.”
“Aw, Jodee, don’t cry,” Corbet said. He came to her quickly and pulled her into his embrace.
Jodee was so startled that she fought him. But he held her tenderly, snug against his chest, his arms strong across her back, the scent of starch in his shirt reminding her of home. She could hear his heart drumming. He felt so warm to her touch. Looking up, she saw his feelings for her naked in his eyes. He lowered his head slowly and his warm soft lips closed over her mouth.
An explosion of sensation went through Jodee’s body like heat lightning.
Corbet kissed her. He was kissing her!
Jodee drew back, astonished, and peered deeply into Corbet's eyes as if trying to see the bottom of a well. Her body swirled with feelings she couldn’t put into words. He kissed her again as if to convince her it was true what he was doing.
“I’m not going to let Burl get you, honey,” he said against her mouth.
Honey? Now she couldn’t breathe at all. She wasn’t even certain she was in her own body. He released her. She staggered back, her chest so full the air didn’t want to leave her.
Corbet looked so dear. She felt like leaping and spinning around. But she stood dumbstruck with joy.
Corbet’s eyes went all around the room as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was. His cheeks grew rosy. His forehead. His throat. Finally he met her gaze again. He looked abashed.
Don’t say anything to spoil it, she thought. Don’t say the kiss was a mistake, or an accident or intended as a comfort. She wanted to hold tight to the moment, like a rock in her hand that she could take out of her knapsack later and remember.
Her first for-true kiss.
Corbet looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t. He stepped back and made what sounded like a baffled chuckle to himself, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He swallowed hard and wiped his hand down the side of his face. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He fought to keep it hidden.
He hadn’t kissed like that many times in his life, Jodee guessed, watching him with wonder. Oh, he likely had his wild times in his youth. It wasn’t his first kiss, certainly, but she was like that girl in his childhood who died young, only Jodee was alive, a woman grown, and ready to wrap her arms around his neck and show him what she had stored up inside.
The moment began to stretch into an awkward silence neither knew how to break. Finally Corbet gathered up the coat and pistol to get them out of sight in his sleeping room. When he came out, there was something new vibrating in the air between them that Jodee could feel like an invisible tether. Avinelle didn’t have this with him, Jodee was certain, otherwise Avinelle wouldn’t act like such a ninny when Corbet was around. Jodee felt like she was floating away. Corbet Harlow had kissed her. She had a beau!
For the first time in her life all Jodee’s senses blazed with awareness. She knew exactly what Corbet was feeling. He wanted to kiss her again. And maybe more, although Jodee was not clear on the goings-on between men and women. She wanted it, too.
“I should be getting back,” she said softly. She found her way to the door.
Corbet moved quickly to open it for her. She wanted to avoid his eyes and relish the feeling of that invisible tether she felt inside, but at the last moment she looked back. She saw Corbet’s expression had hardened back to that of a marshal doing his job. It was stunning to see the transformation.
As she walked out into the wind and felt her unbound hair lift and snap, she sensed the invisible tether still. They rode back to Avinelle’s in silence. It took more than an impulsive kiss to bind a man and woman together, Jodee thought. She wanted to sit easily beside Corbet and relish his company, but nothing felt quite right now. She felt as tense and foolish as Avinelle. She was in love and suddenly scared of losing Corbet, as a beau, but more importantly as a friend.
Ten
The moment Corbet and Jodee drove away at two o’clock, Avinelle turned from the parlor window. She wanted to put her fist through it. “When she’s around, he doesn’t even see me.”
Her mother seized her arm and pushed her toward the staircase. “We do not have much time.”
Avinelle stumbled up the stairs with her mother prodding her. “What’re we doing up here?” She followed her mother into the guest room and watched her upend the contents of Jodee’s knapsack onto the bed. Out fell a wad of tattered muslin, a blood-stained shirt, and several rocks.
She must be acting out a scene for the ever-watchful and imaginative Maggie, Avinelle thought. “Mother, what’re you looking for?”
“My spoons!” her mother exclaimed, and convincingly, too. Then she drew three spoons from her pocket and threw them on the bed. “There,” she cried. “Look. She is stealing from us.”
As frustrated as she felt, Avinelle didn’t think Jodee deserved this. “Mother, really. Isn’t this beneath us?”
“If she robs us, Corbet will want to make it up to us, to you.”
Avinelle felt ashamed to be part of such a shabby trap. “I think you’re wrong about that.”
Was it necessary to trick Corbet? Avinelle wondered.
Spying Jodee’s handbag lying on the chair, she sidled up to it. The bag was so cheap she wanted to laugh. Jodee was no rival, she told herself. Jodee was a mutt. She, herself, was quality. And playing helpless wasn’t working on Corbet, either. Acting as if the holdup had scared her to death didn’t attract his concern. She must try a different approach. She must act more like a lady. A courageous lady. By contrast, Jodee must be made to look like the ill-bred outlaw’s daughter she was. Corbet would never prefer that.
Avinelle peered inside the bag. Coins, cartridges—“Mother, Jodee has a gun!”
“Perfect! We shall tell Corbet about the spoons and the gun and turn her out.” She flashed Avinelle a wicked look of satisfaction.
“If Corbet doesn’t love me, I don’t want him. I don’t want to marry again.” Avinelle felt like crying suddenly and the feeling made her furious. If a mutt like Jodee McQue could stand up to her mother, why couldn’t she?
Her mother got that hated wild look again. “You must marry. I am too old to find another man to support us. You have to do it. You have no idea how investors take advantage.”
“Take the spoons back,” Avinelle whispered. “If Jodee sees what we’ve done, she’ll come at us like a wildcat.”
“Let her raise a hand,” her mother hissed.
Avinelle didn’t relish the idea of being attacked. “Just take back the spoons, please. This makes me feel cheap.”
“All you need worry about, young lady, is getting Corbet Harlow to marry you.” But after a moment she took back the spoons.
“Let’s sell this hideous house and the damnable stage line and go home to New York,” Avinelle cried. “I’m tired of going to Cheyenne to sell my things to make ends meet. I was meant for better than this.”
Her mother seized her arm. “Let me tell you the
truth then, you little twit. The stage line is not ours to sell. Nor the house. When Mr. Conroy came here the other day, he informed me that I inherited nothing. We have been living two years on a widow’s stipend. Everything here was funded by investors. Out of respect for Harold’s memory they have been waiting to liquidate. The investors want to sell before the railroad puts the stage line out of business.”
“The nearest railroad is a hundred miles away. It’ll be years—”
Avinelle gaped at her mother’s crazed expression and wondered if the woman had lost her mind.
“Investors shall not dare to put us into the street with a man like Corbet to defend us,” her mother said. “I am done with settlements. I will not start over again.”
When had they ever started over? For as long as Avinelle could remember they’d enjoyed the best of everything. “Does any of this have to do with my real father?”
Ignoring her, her mother stormed down the hall. Avinelle didn’t remember her father. She happily went away to finishing school. At seventeen, she enjoyed a lavish coming out party where she met the very handsome Lambert Babcock. Her future had seemed assured.
She ran down the hall. “Let’s go home, Mother! Please!”
“You must go on that picnic,” her mother said, searching for something in her room. “I will plead a headache. It will be just the two of you.”
“I’m not going to entice Corbet Harlow over a hamper of tea sandwiches. Do you expect me to expose myself in broad daylight and cry rape?”
“You are right,” her mother said, pausing, considering. “I will come along and make the accusation. He will marry you or be run out of town.”
Avinelle wanted to shake her. “Explain to me how would that help?”
Her mother lunged at her, grabbing her arms hurtfully. “I have gone through too much to let you ruin everything. I will not be put into the street again. If there were a more suitable man for you, I would invite him for Sunday dinner. You owe me.”
“If you want a businessman for me, Chester Clarkson is still in town. Philadelphia is almost New York. Why must we stay here? Why must I marry Corbet? You’ve lost your mind.”
“Not Clarkson,” her mother hissed. “He reminds me of—thank your lucky stars no man ever used you and refused to make good on his promises.”
Avinelle stamped her foot. Why not just tell Corbet they were floundering financially? They were only two helpless widows after all, selling valuables to get along, at the mercy of outlaws and businessmen trying to take cruel advantage. Corbet might not desire her, but he had always enjoyed helping her.
Stalking into her room, Avinelle sank to the edge of her bed. A picnic. How very lovely. Road dust, blazing sun, and rattlesnakes. There were days in this awful town when she wished she were dead. There were days when she wished her mother was.
An icy wash went through her. An outlaw’s daughter in the house…with a gun in her hand bag…Avinelle covered her face with trembling hands. At least she had her savings back. Why couldn’t she just walk out the door? Was she a fool or a coward?
• • •
Floating as if in a fantasy, feeling as happy as ever in her life, Jodee pranced through the front door into Avinelle’s entry hall. Corbet had kissed her. She had a beau!
Corbet followed Jodee inside.
The maid slipped into the shadows once the door was closed. The tantalizing aroma of supper filled the house. Jodee hoped Corbet was smiling inside just as she was. She longed to rise up on tiptoe and kiss him again just for the pure pleasure of it.
Widow Ashton appeared at the top of the stairs, her expression savage. Jodee’s happiness vanished.
Freezing Widow Ashton with a hard stare, Corbet said, “I have a few questions, Widow Ashton, if you have a moment. About the holdup.”
Widow Ashton clutched the handrail. “If you must, Marshal.”
Jodee didn’t like to think Corbet wanted to discuss the holdup so soon after kissing her. Wasn’t his head in the clouds?
“I’ll help Hanna with supper,” she said, hurrying upstairs to tie back her hair. It was a mass of tangles after the buggy ride. She ran into Avinelle, who looked nearly as unpleasant as her mother.
With a toss of her head, Avinelle stomped down the stairs in a sulk. Seeing Corbet, she rallied. “Dearest Corbet, are you sparing us a moment? How darling of you.” Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she pulled him gently toward the parlor as if they were going to dance.
Jodee struggled to ignore them but saw how Corbet appraised Avinelle. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t looking away, either. How long would she have to work to earn enough money for a dress like that? When would she ever be as beautiful?
Seconds later, in the guest room doorway, Jodee halted. Everything she owned lay scattered on the bed. The pistol had been removed from her bag and lay in plain sight. Her old bed dress was on the floor.
Damn their dirty hides, Jodee thought. She hadn’t believed they’d really search her knapsack. Was it their right? She wanted to tear open their drawers and dump everything on the floor. She wanted to open the silver music box and let its music fill the house. She wanted to break every ugly knickknack in the drawing room and throw the last of Widow Ashton’s silver spoons to hell and gone.
Instead, she smoothed her hair, gave it a vicious twist, and began knotting it. Her hair pins were all over the bed. She picked up one after another and jabbed them into her hair until it stayed in place, if crookedly. Looking at herself in the mirror, she caught her breath. Her eyes were blistering blue fire. Her mouth was a slash of hurt. If she went to the parlor now, in this state of mind, she might end up back in jail. She had to do whatever was necessary to have her new life. That meant she had to control her rage.
Why the hell bother? Did Avinelle or her mother control theirs? Were they honest and decent? Jodee wanted to shriek.
The kiss had been a dream, she thought, disappointment crashing through her like a tide. It had been a kiss of compassion, not love. A moment ago she had seen Corbet gaze at Avinelle an instant too long. Taking the pistol, she stormed down the back stairs into the kitchen. The pistol was not loaded but two fools wouldn’t know that.
No…No…take hold of yourself…
Jodee ignored herself.
Pots bubbled on the cook stove. Fresh rolls cooled on the pie table. Corbet’s questions and the widows’ soft replies could be heard coming from the parlor. Hanna came in from the rear porch, carrying two pails of water. Seeing Jodee’s fiery expression, and the pistol, she set them down with care.
“They went through my things,” Jodee growled. “It ain’t right.”
Hanna didn’t look as concerned as Jodee expected she should. “Miz Ashton asked me to turn out my pockets this morning, too.”
Jodee couldn’t bear it. Were they going to turn her only friend against her? “I swear, I ain’t touched a—” She was losing control. Nobody trusted her. She was going to shoot something, anything, just like Burl used to do when he was rattled.
She marched into the front hall, heels thudding, heart pounding. If the parlor doors hadn’t swept open at that moment she would’ve gone out the front door and never stopped. The urge to flee was all-consuming. How many times had she wanted to run when Burl pestered her, when it was cold and life seemed pointless. Like now. But always her father had been there to hold her with his love. She stayed with him because that’s what her mother would’ve wanted. This was too much. She was done with them all!
Corbet caught her at the door. “Jodee? I’d like you to hear what Avinelle and her mother just told me about the holdup.”
There stood Corbet with his handsome face and his coffee brown eyes filled with alarm like maybe he thought she’d gone crazy. The memory of their kiss confounded her. She loved Corbet. She wanted him to believe in her no matter what others might say. She yearned to leave, but finally she was able to turn. With all the dignity she could muster, she stalked into the parlor where her two hostesses sat, looking s
elf-righteous and full of themselves. What did they have to be so smug about? They were just a couple of low-down snoops. She abandoned all respect for them.
Widow Ashton glared at Jodee, and Jodee glared back until, unbelievably, the widow dropped her gaze. Jodee couldn’t believe it.
“I was just telling the marshal the holdup upset me so much I simply cannot talk about it. I prefer to forget everything.” Widow Ashton clutched at her throat.
Corbet’s lips thinned with impatience.
“Very well.” Widow Ashton drew a deep breath. “The driver threw down the strong box and his rifle, but he had another gun hidden under his seat. The outlaws had trouble getting the safe to the ground—it was in the boot—then they couldn’t open it. In a fit of temper, one of them shot it. Avinelle screamed. She thought he was shooting at her I suppose. I thought so, too. The driver drew the hidden gun. The one carrying on like a lunatic shot him and he fell…right next to me. Then two more shots.” The widow covered her face with her hands.
“I thought I was killed,” Avinelle cried.
Widow Ashton roused herself. “One of the outlaws dropped from his horse dead, too.”
Jodee rubbed her forehead. She could picture her father lying on the ground.
“Listen, Jodee,” Corbet said, touching her arm. “Tangus shot the driver. Then he shot your father. Accidently or on purpose, we can’t know.”
Burl said the driver killed her father. That thieving snake Burl Tangus killed her father? She wrenched free of Corbet’s hand. She looked at the women staring at her and her little pistol. “Burl Tangus must think he has some claim on me. That’s why I need this.” She brandished the pistol.
Corbet’s hand shot out to caution her.
Trying to get out of the line of fire, Widow Ashton upset her chair. Amid the clatter of porcelain falling from a table, she shrieked, “Don’t shoot!”
Avinelle hid behind Corbet.
“This damn thing ain’t loaded. I’ve never even tried to fire it.” Whirling, seeing Corbet recoil, Jodee continued to brandish the unloaded pistol. “While we were at the jailhouse, Marshal, these two ladies went through my knapsack. I ain’t touched a thing of theirs. And don’t think I didn’t want to, plenty of times. No, I worked hard. I stood their nasty remarks. I held my tongue. I haven’t done nothing to deserve my things being searched.”