Her Outlaw Heart

by Samantha Harte

  Widow Ashton looked pleased. Jodee didn’t care. She was relieved when the introductions were over. She didn’t intend to keep house for the banker or the mayor. She wouldn’t be sweeping the barbershop. Starting a new life suddenly felt impossible. That’s how the widows wanted her to feel.

  In the kitchen Hanna watched her. “Did somebody say something, honey?”

  Jodee cast Hanna a sharp look. “Tarnation, and a double damn thrown in. I don’t know how you stand it, working here.”

  “I worked as a girl. I worked after I was married. I’ll work so long as I’m able.”

  “I know, but—” Jodee felt her throat tighten.

  “Girl, you ain’t had a mother since you was six. You ain’t had a grandmother since you was twelve. Your pa got himself killed—it was his own fault—and you know it. He didn’t have to turn outlaw. He didn’t have to go on that holdup. He chose it. Now it’s up to you to choose your future. I don’t think you’re stealing spoons. Or the diamond brooch or the gold scissors.”

  Jodee whirled. “Them, too? I ain’t! Haven’t! Didn’t! I don’t understand why they asked me to stay here but are all the time making me look bad. I’ll do them dishes later, Hanna.” She tore off her apron. “I got to get some air.”

  Twelve

  Spring smelled wonderful in the mountains, Jodee thought, hurrying away from Avinelle's house through the backyard. Walking fast, she rounded the carriage house and started climbing toward the road to Cheyenne City.

  Weeks had passed since she had been dragged into Burdeen on that travois. She felt amazed to think of all that had happened since. If she could hold out just a while longer, what more might happen? She was afraid to hope something good might come of all this.

  Mindful of her skirt hem and new shoes, she followed a steep meandering trail up into some big rocks among the pines. Reaching a good vantage point, she dusted a rough ledge and sat primly as if preparing to receive guests in a parlor. It felt so good to be alone.

  From her vantage point, she could just see the back of Avinelle’s house. She was grateful to be there and all—

  She heard scrambling footsteps coming up the trail. Oh, couldn’t they just leave her be for a single moment?

  When she saw Corbet emerge from the brush, panting and looking a bit worried, she let out her breath in surprise. Then she felt peeved with him. There he came, shattering her resolve and muddling her thinking. If he was courting Avinelle he ought to stay away.

  Even so, she was secretly delighted to see him. Was it so terrible to want to be near him? Was it so terrible to love the way he looked, to love the sound of his voice and dream about him in the night? If she left town, she’d never see him again.

  Lifting her chin, Jodee promised herself she wouldn’t give in to childish fantasies of kisses anymore. Corbet was just a friend. He was almost ten years older and she was an outlaw’s daughter not even yet twenty. They would never fit. He was just checking on her, she told herself sternly, making sure she didn’t do something foolish. He didn’t want her. And she didn’t want him. She must not want him.

  Of course she wanted him, she muttered tersely to herself. What woman wouldn’t want such a man? He felt like life itself. He felt like her very own breathing. She filled up just knowing he was following her, whatever his reason. It was all she could do to keep from jumping to her feet and throwing herself into his arms. Change me! Save me! Love me, she wanted to whisper urgently into his ear. She clenched herself up inside, determined not to act like a ninny. She was a woman grown. She was going to act like it.

  Seeing her, Corbet straightened and smiled with relief. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Had enough of them all?”

  “Just about.” She didn’t want to sound upset. She gave a slight laugh. She was glad to see him. And delighted they were alone. “All them fancy plates—I didn’t break a one. All that silverware.” With a toss of her head, she stood and turned out her skirt pockets. She grinned as if not stealing had been a victory. “All that polished crystal I might throw at somebody.” She giggled. “All that food…” She threw out her arms and spun around.

  Her stomach chose that moment to growl. Now he knew she hadn’t yet eaten.

  Composing herself, she flexed her shoulder and shrugged. Then she grinned in a false way. She cast Corbet a sidelong glance that was more provocative than a girl determined to leave a man alone should give. He was so handsome to look at that her mind went blank. A delicious sensation flooded her body. Oh, she wanted him so much. She stared into those dark eyes of his and felt exposed in a way she had never known before. He stared back. The touch of his searching eyes made her shiver with self-consciousness.

  “All I need is a tin plate and a pot over a campfire,” she said, sitting primly again, folding her hands. “That’s what I’m used to. In a way I miss them days. Isn’t that crazy?”

  “Not really. May I sit with you a minute?” Corbet stepped closer.

  “Just don’t start kissing me,” she said in a teasing tone. “It muddles my head.”

  He sat, leaving only inches between them. “The sun feels good.” He breathed in. “It muddles my head, too. Kissing you.”

  “Don’t worry,” she put in before he could spoil the memory with an explanation. “It was a nice kiss, my first in case you had the wrong idea. But it can’t mean anything. Not that I wouldn’t want it to. But I can’t…”

  She couldn’t explain how she felt, that she wanted him, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She mustn’t. She wasn’t going to be the kind that men dallied with. Either Corbet wanted to pay her court or he didn’t. And it was too soon, besides. She didn’t feel up to figuring out a man’s feelings when she didn’t know her own. Corbet would never marry the likes of her anyway. She tossed her head to banish the thought.

  His hand stole over hers where it lay knotted in her lap. She wanted to push its rough warmth away but instead, she sat very still, her thoughts riveted on the gentle touch of it, the warmth, marveling at what it felt like to be near him.

  She reeled to remember how it felt, kissing him. Her body had known exactly where his kisses could lead. She found herself melting, wanting with every part of her being to fall back and pull him along with her. She ached for him to move closer now, to put his arm around her and turn her face to his. She felt herself spinning out of control at the thought of lying in the sun with him. She knew lovemaking had powerful magic. Her ma had known it with her pa. Her ma kept the magic alive a long time during those years she waited.

  Jodee wanted the magic of lovemaking, too. She couldn’t think clearly with Corbet touching her hand. She couldn’t remember what she’d been so upset about moments ago that she would climb to this isolated place overlooking the houses below.

  Corbet leaned closer. She watched his eyes travel her face tenderly. Stars burst all over inside her. She looked at his mouth, slightly open, curved and soft-looking. She filled up with something that got ready to—

  They heard scuffling coming up the trail through the pines. Ever so casually Corbet edged back and removed his hand from hers. Slowly he reached for the gun he usually wore at his side. Today, however, he had not been wearing it at Avinelle’s dinner. Jodee felt his body tense. If it were Burl approaching, Corbet wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Corbet might be shot dead in seconds. Her, too. Jodee's heart seized up with fear.

  Gasping and red-faced, Artie Abernathy broke from the trail like a bull, flailing against branches, struggling for balance. It was a steep trail, slippery with loose gravel and few handholds.

  “Jodee—uh, oh, Marshal? I thought you went. I was just getting ready to leave myself and wanted to say goodbye to Jodee, but we couldn’t find you, Jodee. Everything all right?” His eyes seemed surprisingly sharp as he looked at the two of them seated on the same flat boulder. “Looks like the marshal caught you before you got far.” He grinned as if he were joking, like she might be a pet, loose from her leash, but Jodee sensed he wasn’t joki
ng at all. He thought—he knew—she had been running away.

  Corbet got to his feet. He wasn’t smiling.

  She stood, too. “Why, Mr. Abernathy.” She sounded just like Avinelle. “I just needed a breath of fresh air. We were up at dawn, me and Hanna. You know how much work goes into puttin’ on a good spread.”

  She took hold of her skirts. Mincing like a lady, she picked her way down the trail, skidding and scuffling, back to her new life, cussing silently the entire way. Artie plowed and stumbled down behind her, throwing up dust like a bull calf crashing through the pines. Even Corbet, in his silence, managed to look awkward coming down to the road to stand there and watch her with hooded eyes. What she wouldn't have given to have their moment of solitude back. Just one second more. Tarnation and a double damn thrown in!

  She marched along the road, swishing her skirts, furious with Artie for interrupting her time with Corbet. The oily-haired fool, she thought, and his silly waxed mustache.

  “Miss McQue…Jodee, wait,” Artie called. “I need to talk to you.” He lumbered after her.

  “I can’t be gone much longer,” she called back to him in a sing-song. “Widow Ashton is real strict with me. I got all them dishes to scrub. All them pots and pans and spoons. Good afternoon, Mr. Abernathy. Nice seeing you again, Marshal.” She sashayed away, thinking that if she hadn’t been such a ninny and filled up their private moment with talk, Corbet might have kissed her.

  Artie caught her right elbow and spun her around. “Miss McQue, I’d like permission…” Gasping for breath, he glanced back at Corbet.

  “You can talk to Jodee in front of me,” Corbet said, strolling after them. “I just wanted to make sure Jodee was safe.”

  “May I call on you sometime, Miss McQue?” Artie gushed.

  She pulled her elbow free of his hold and rubbed her aching shoulder. This was the last thing she needed, an unwelcome beau.

  “Oh, sorry,” Artie added with his face turning red, realizing he’d hurt her.

  “I’m not accepting callers, Mr. Abernathy,” Jodee said, meeting his eyes and making herself clear. “Thanks all the same.”

  “Please call me Artie.”

  “No, I can’t do that, Mr. Abernathy, and I can’t work for you.”

  She dashed toward Avinelle’s backyard. Her new life seemed a heap more complicated than she imagined it would be while fantasizing around a campfire. How was she going to get out of this town? Where was she going to go? How about Cheyenne City? She needed, first off, to find her father's resting place. She had to stop dilly-dallying over the marshal.

  Before Jodee went inside the back door, she dawdled still, wondering if Corbet would see her to the door and give her a kiss after all. She watched him stand in the road, looking so grand in his vest, watching her. He took off his hat, hit the side of his leg with it, and then put it back on, settling it low in front. Abruptly he came erect in a watchful manner that Jodee found electrifying.

  Presently she saw what he was looking at, a man approaching from the direction of Cheyenne City on horseback. She felt frightened. When the man drew abreast of Corbet, he dismounted. They shook hands and talked several moments. Then they walked on together toward town. Corbet didn’t look back.

  Jodee felt crestfallen. What was she going to do? She was in love with a lawman.

  Whirling, she was startled to find Widow Ashton standing in the shadows of the back porch, watching her. Going inside, Jodee noticed that her pallet looked mussed. Had the woman searched her things again? Glaring at her, Jodee clenched her teeth. What would she be accused of this time?

  When Widow Ashton said nothing, Jodee found courage she hadn’t known she possessed. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, Widow Ashton. My shoulder’s back to near normal, so I’ll be leaving as soon as I have the price of a ticket. Thanks for helping me earn it.”

  Widow Ashton’s jaw sagged. It was obvious she hadn’t expected thanks. She clearly didn’t know what to say.

  “I’ll be getting to the dishes now. Mr. Abernathy went back to town. Marshal Harlow, too. Do you happen to know how much it costs for a stagecoach ticket to…Cheyenne City? Or Denver? I reckon with all you’ve taught me so far, I could get work most anywhere.”

  Widow Ashton looked like she was struggling to reclaim her air of superiority. “Surely you will want to go home to your people.”

  Jodee shook her head. “They didn’t want me. No, I got to move on. I got to see to my pa’s headstone. I’ll work in a nice house like yours, or in a restaurant. Some place.”

  “You would need a good deal of money to set out on your own,” the widow said as if she knew about being a woman alone. “Proper clothing. Travel fare. Hotels. Meals. Did you accept Mr. Abernathy’s offer of a job? Fifty dollars might do well to start you out.”

  Fifty dollars? Jodee’s heart sank. She’d have to work months to earn so much. What was she thinking, wanting to set out on her own? What was the first thing she had she done when she learned her father was dead? Like a dumb ignorant fool she followed Burl. She got herself shot. She ended up here.

  Jodee’s voice came out small. “I didn’t want to work for him.” That was probably a mistake, she realized. What made her think another proprietor in another restaurant in Cheyenne City or Denver wouldn’t look her just as Artie did? “Easy as the money sounded,” she said, “the work didn’t sound decent for a lone girl. Maybe some places would be all right, but not Artie’s place, not with him around.”

  Widow Ashton raised her brows. “Well, there are certainly great difficulties ahead. You have a good deal more to learn if you intend to be a proper domestic in a respectable household like mine. I am willing to teach you so long as you are still willing to learn.”

  “I am,” Jodee said in earnest. Hadn’t she proven that, she thought, wondering just what more she needed to know.

  “Then let us say you may work here two more weeks. I can afford to pay you that much. If you have no further prospects for employment after that, we will discuss it again. If I may be allowed to retire now, I would like to do so. I am tired.” After a pause, the widow added, “You did quite well today.”

  Strangely, Jodee didn’t relish the praise.

  Widow Ashton turned and mounted the back stairs in a forceful manner that belied her claim of fatigue.

  For the rest of the day Jodee threw herself into her chores and was done in time to take leftovers to Patsy. Hanna had gone home early. By the time Jodee got back, it was well past supper. She’d been so busy she never thought to sit down and taste all that she and Hanna had taken the weekend to cook. Alone in the kitchen, Jodee nibbled leftovers while pondering her future.

  When she curled up to sleep on the back porch that night, she realized the small chest with the broken hinges was gone. Although she was glad to have more room to lie down, she wondered why Widow Ashton removed it.

  • • •

  Corbet sat at his desk facing Ed Brucker, his new deputy from Cheyenne City. He looked to be a lawman of the first order.

  “But I can’t draw worth a damn,” Brucker said, holding up a scarred right hand crippled by a bullet wound. His pale blue eyes were direct. “I can still aim and fire, but I’m not fast anymore.”

  It had to be humiliating, Corbet thought, for a man of Brucker’s experience to admit limitations. He suspected Brucker had been a formidable lawman in his prime. He didn’t like imagining where he might end up if wounded in the course of his duties. “I’d be proud to work with you, Brucker. Welcome to Burdeen.”

  After giving the man his instructions, Corbet asked if he wanted to live at the jailhouse and Brucker agreed.

  They discussed the holdup at Ship Creek Crossing. Brucker studied the wanted circular on Tangus. “Reminds me of a jake I tangled with years back goin’ by the name of Beryl Tanner.” He thumped the circular with his stiffened hand. “This rendering looks like him. And now you mention it, I do recall the boys bringing in McQue’s body after the stage came back to tow
n. A good man, Willie Burstead.” He shook his head.

  “Where’s McQue buried?” Corbet asked. “Jodee will want to know.”

  “City of Cheyenne don’t waste much on outlaws. There’s a ledger noting the spot.” He squinted at Corbet, his eyes flashing. “What’s she like?”

  “She’s staying with two widows who claim she’s stripping the house of valuables, but where she might hide so much plunder I haven’t been able to figure out.” Corbet felt disloyal, speaking of Jodee like that.

  “I’ll look forward to meeting her.”

  There was a twinkle in Brucker's eye that Corbet didn't appreciate. “The widows offered to take her in. I was impressed, at first. They’re good at drawing me in like that. I realized too late I was supposed to think Avinelle Babcock the perfect female and fit myself for her harness.”

  Brucker grinned. “More than a few times I seen that widow lady parading between Cheyenne’s mercantile stores with her cash box in hand for all to see. She never bought much, you know. More often than not, I saw her at pawn brokers. Good idea, though, using Miss McQue as bait. Any sign of Tangus?”

  Corbet bristled. It was the first remark Brucker had made that put Corbet off. “I haven’t been doing that.”

  “’Course not. And she ain’t stealing from those widow ladies.” Brucker detected Corbet's change of attitude and softened his tone. “She’s just taking notice of where everything is for Tangus.”

  “She wouldn’t do that," Corbet said, holding Brucker's challenging gaze. "She hasn’t left town because she doesn’t have the price of a ticket.”

  Brucker’s eyes turned crafty and he winked. “If you wanted her gone, Marshal Harlow, I expect the town council would’ve voted her onto the stage free and gratis. Tangus is laying low, watching and waiting. You can bet money on it. I’d say she’s got herself a shopping list. I’d wager my first month’s pay on it. Yep, I’d like to meet T. T. McQue’s little girl. I’ll bet she’s a regular spitfire when she ain’t charming the socks off folks.”