Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends)

by Lough, Loree

  Josh saw no point in saying that in his book, blisters and calluses topped sitting in a jail cell any day. “How long have you been in custody?”

  “Three days. The judge was out of town. Or so I was told. So much for my right to a speedy trial, eh?”

  “Have they set a date?”

  “Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp. Provided they can round up six sober men in this fine community of upstanding citizens, that is.” Leo’s dark eyes narrowed. “So, did you stick it out? Did you get your law degree?”

  It hadn’t been easy, attending classes eight hours a day, working another six at the lumber mill, studying, and trying to sleep in that crowded dormitory, but Josh had done it. He’d graduated with full honors and in record time, because every minute away from the ranch and those he loved had seemed like torture. “Yeah,” he said, “I finished.” And he remembered Dinah’s delighted surprise when she’d noticed the framed certificate hanging on the wall of his parlor.

  “Praise the Lord, hallelujah, it’s my lucky day!” Leo did a little dance in the small space between his cot and the stone wall of his cell, and, when it ended, he stuck his face between two bars. “So, what’ll it take to talk you into representing me? I’ve got money. And a girl….”

  Those last words echoed in Josh’s head like a Chinese gong and caught him off guard. He tried to concentrate on present facts: Charlie and Dan were outside; he’d promised not to keep them waiting; his frail grandmother was laid up at home with apoplexy; he missed Dinah more than words could explain. “I’m in town just for the day,” he began. “Came to buy a stud bull for the ranch, and—”

  “Tell me,” Leo interrupted him, “how’s my little Sadie?”

  Josh stifled a nervous snort, because there wasn’t anything amusing about what came to mind. The only child of elderly parents, Sadie had been a waitress at the restaurant in New Haven where Leo would take most of his meals, leaving generous tips and plying her with compliments. Eventually, she’d accepted his invitation to a Shakespearean stage production. Leo had showed up too intoxicated to watch the play, and Sadie had spent the next several months trying to sober him up. Lonely, confused, and brokenhearted, she’d turned to Josh for help, but even working together, his girl and his friend hadn’t been able to fix whatever was wrong with Leo Broderick.

  Those hours with Sadie were Josh’s best memories of his Yale days. She’d made him feel smart and heroic, and, by the grace of God, he’d managed to convince her that she deserved better than a drunken gambler. Then, one day, when Leo saw them walking hand in hand, he knew they’d fallen in love—and he never spoke to either of them again. A few months later, when he dropped out of school and disappeared, they blamed themselves. After the wedding, cuddled in their dark bedroom, they’d wondered whatever had become of Leo Broderick. With time and maturity comes wisdom, however, and, before long, they’d stopped feeling responsible for Leo’s actions.

  “Sadie died giving birth,” he blurted out.

  Leo’s face blanched, and he drove a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, my friend. Sorry as can be.”

  Josh felt a little guilty for delivering the news so tactlessly. “Happened three years ago.” He could have added that the pain of his loss had lifted significantly, thanks to a diminutive, green-eyed beauty who called herself Dinah. But he chose not to.

  “So then, maybe you’ll take my case—for old times’ sake?”

  “Like I said, we’ve got a bull tied up out there, and we need to get on the road, so that—”

  “Do just this one thing for me, and we’ll call it even. No hard feelings.”

  How many times had he heard that line before? It had taken less than a week at Yale to figure out there was no such thing as “just this one thing” with Leo. Josh pictured Charlie in his makeshift pen on wheels, straining at his ropes to get free. He pictured Dan, pacing impatiently as he checked and rechecked the knots.

  “It’ll all be over in a matter of hours,” Leo pressed. “You’ll be on the road by lunchtime tomorrow.”

  Would Leo have stayed at Yale and earned his law degree if Josh hadn’t stolen Sadie’s heart? Josh gritted his teeth. He’d never been able to come up with a suitable answer to the question before, so what made him think he’d find one now? Could he really hope to erase years of guilt, once and for all, by helping him now? Probably not, Josh thought, but it sure was worth a try. “Give me a few minutes to make some arrangements and I’ll be back to discuss strategy.”

  As he headed outside, Josh relied on the grateful look on Leo’s face to give him the courage to face Dan with the change of plans.

  35

  Mrs. Neville,” Kate began, “I hate to bother you with everything else that’s on your mind, but it’s your mother-in-law….”

  Eva’s face paled as she put down her fountain pen and looked up from her desk. “Is she—is she all right?”

  “She’s still with us, if that’s what you’re asking, but I can’t get her to eat. All she wants to do is sleep.” Kate clasped and unclasped her hands. “I thought—I hoped, maybe, you and Mr. Neville, and his brothers and their wives—if each of you visited her—she loves you all so much that—well, maybe, you’ll be able to convince her to eat something.”

  Nodding, Eva slumped in her high-backed chair. “I’m glad you came to me, Dinah.” With a wave of her hand, she invited her to sit down in the seat across from her. “You’ve been such a help to us, a real blessing.” She leaned forward, folding her hands on the blotter. “So thank you. I know you wanted to leave here long before now. And everyone at the Lazy N knows that, if it weren’t for you, we’d probably have lost Esther on that awful Sunday….”

  The image of Esther, gray-faced and limp in the church pew, flashed in Kate’s mind. Then, Eva’s chair squeaked, rousing her from the unpleasant memory. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” she admitted. “You didn’t know me from Adam, and yet you took me in and gave me a safe place to rest and heal. I’ll be indebted to everyone at the Lazy N for the rest of my days.”

  Josh’s mother laughed softly. “The gratitude is mutual, believe me.”

  Kate smiled and stood up again. “I’d best get back to Esther, and let you get back to your work.”

  Eva heaved a huge sigh. “Keeping the books for this place is quite a job, I tell you. I don’t know how I’d have done it and cared for Esther, too. You’ve been such a help!” She got to her feet and walked around to Kate’s side of the desk. “Esther turned eighty-two on her last birthday. Did you know that?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “She has talked about Ezra more often than usual these past few years. It’s been a source of concern to Matthew, in particular, since he’s the eldest son.” She bit her lower lip, then continued, “He told me on the night she fell ill that he fully expected to pay a visit to the undertaker. And that you’re the reason we’ve all had this time, this opportunity to tell her how much she means to us.”

  She gave Kate a hug, then slid an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the door. “Tell me, Dinah, have you ever played bridge?”

  Kate pictured Etta Mae and her dancing girls, giggling from behind fans made of playing cards. “No, but I’ve watched many a game.”

  “Well, what you’ve done for us trumps anything we could have done for you. I’m ever so sorry about your ankle, but I can’t help thinking the injury was divine providence, since it resulted in Josh’s bringing you home.” She walked back to her desk. “Just between you and me, I won’t be the least bit disappointed if Josh insists that you make this your permanent home.”

  There was no mistaking the woman’s meaning, and Kate felt helplessly silly as she stood there, smiling and nodding, trying to come up with a proper response.

  “Rest assured, I’ll corral the family,” Eva said, preparing to go back to her work. “I like your idea of each of us going in, one at a time, in hopes that, while we’re there, she’ll stay awake long enough to take some nourishment.” />
  It pleased Kate that Josh’s mother approved of her plan. “I’m on my way to the kitchen now to see about bringing her some soup. Can I bring you anything?”

  “Why, thank you, Dinah. A cup of tea would be lovely.”

  Kate headed straight for the kitchen to fix two trays—one for Esther, one for Eva. Oh, if only Josh were here so she could tell him about their lovely chat! He’d been gone only a few days, but it felt more like weeks. She thought about him almost constantly and wondered if she’d been on his mind, too. Not likely, she decided, grinning, what with Daniel to keep him company and ranch business to occupy his mind.

  An hour later, after yet another failed attempt to feed Esther, Kate sat in the window seat and gave the cradle a gentle nudge with the toe of her shoe. As it rocked to and fro, a sob ached in her throat. And here, she’d thought she’d come to grips with knowing there wouldn’t be babies in her future, thanks to Frank! Evidently, what she really needed to accept was that she’d never get used to the idea of being barren.

  She held the curtains aside to peer out at the backyard, where little Willie squealed and giggled as Susan chased after him with a washcloth, evidently intent on wiping jam and cookie crumbs from his mouth.

  Beyond the yard, mountainous clouds hung dark and heavy in the vast sky. Thankfully, Josh and Dan had traveled south; with any luck, they’d be home before the storm hit.

  “I—I w-want….”

  Kate leaped up and rushed to Esther’s side. “Well, hello there, sleepyhead!” She tidied the covers and fluffed her pillow. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” She focused on something near the window.

  Kate followed the line of her gaze, then met her eyes. “The cradle?”

  Esther nodded, and the left side of her face broke into a smile. “You…will be…next.”

  Even if Frank’s attacks hadn’t left her too battered to carry a child to term, what man would want a woman like she to be the mother of his children?

  “B-boring.”

  “Boring?” Kate echoed. Lord, she found herself praying, don’t let this be a sign that the end is near—not when the family hasn’t had a chance to say good-bye. Not with Josh and Dan so far from home….

  She took Esther’s hand in her own and sat down beside her. “What’s boring, Esther?”

  “You are,” she replied, as clear as day.

  Blinking, Kate heard a nervous laugh escape her lungs. “I’m boring?” Oh, Esther. If you only knew the awful truth about me, you wouldn’t say that!

  “You’re not fooling me.” She gave Kate’s hand a squeeze, the strength of which belied her frail condition.

  All right, Kate silently conceded, that much is true. Esther had seen that wanted poster in Amarillo. “You think the life I’ve lived is boring?” The question inspired a giggle, and it made Esther chuckle, too. But she sobered in a heartbeat to say, “I…know…you.”

  Kate squeezed the woman’s hand. “And you’re probably the only person in this whole wide world who can say that—and mean it.”

  “Josh…knows.”

  Kate pressed a kiss to the withered hand in her own. “No, like everyone else, he thinks he knows me. But I’m happy—relieved, even—that he doesn’t.”

  Esther frowned.

  “If he knew the truth, he’d hate me.”

  “No!”

  She said it with such conviction that Kate was almost inclined to believe her. “The trouble with you, Esther Neville, is that your heart is bigger than your head.” On her feet now, she went back to plumping pillows and tidying covers. “You need to rest while I get some soup, and—”

  “Boring.”

  Laughing softly, Kate kissed Esther’s forehead. “All right, then, so I’m boring. But that’s a lot better than having Josh know the truth about—”

  “No!” his grandmother interrupted her. “Stop.” With a clumsy wave of her hand, she added, “Stop feel…sorry for…y’rself. Then you can see…truth….”

  Kate wasn’t sure which surprised her more, the clarity of Esther’s lecture or the meaning behind each painstakingly uttered word.

  “Go. Now. Fetch sons, gran’chil’ren.” And with that, she closed her eyes.

  “I’ll bring them to you, on one condition.”

  The clock ticked once, twice, three times, before Esther opened her eyes. “Well…?”

  “You must eat something while they’re visiting.”

  She gave a great harrumph, then said, “Fine. Now, fetch them.” A mischievous grin lit her eyes. “Please?”

  “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail with sons and daughters-in-law and grandchildren—and soup!” Before Esther could change her mind, Kate exited the room and closed the door.

  Two hours later, after getting nearly an entire cup of broth into her patient, Kate sat in a straight-backed chair just outside Esther’s room, pretending to read a book. One by one, the elderly woman’s loved ones paraded into the room, visited with her, and left, red-eyed and sniffling, each stopping to thank her for her tender, loving care, which had given them weeks of extra time with Esther. “If not for you,” Matthew said, “we might not have had this chance to say good-bye.”

  Good-bye? But this isn’t a good-bye visit! she wanted to say. Esther had seemed better, almost as good as new. Seeing her family, Kate believed, would be the medicine to keep Esther going strong, to hang on long after Josh and Dan’s return.

  She remembered how Josh had paid a visit to Esther the night before he and his cousin had left for Laredo, and how Esther had promised to try to hold on until he was home again, safe and sound. It would break his heart to learn that she’d joined Ezra while he’d been gone.

  That shouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. And Kate would move heaven and earth to make sure it didn’t.

  She owed him that—and so much more.

  36

  I can’t tell you what a privilege it is,” the reporter said, “to be sitting in a Fort Worth, Texas, saloon, talking to the great Frank Michaels.”

  Frank lit a match and held the flame to the tip of his cigar. “What are you planning to call this novel of yours, if you don’t mind my asking?” he said through the smoke.

  Gardiner’s eyes widened. “Oh, but I don’t mind at all! I’m thinking something like The Guns of Frank Michaels: An Outlaw’s Story.” He grinned at Frank. “If that doesn’t sell half a million copies, I don’t know what will.”

  “Seems a pitiful shame you’ll make out like a bandit, telling my tale.” He inspected the ashes before flicking them to the floor. “I think it’s only right that I get a cut of the profits.”

  All color drained from the writer’s face, and, after several false starts, he managed to squeak out, “Nothing happens fast in publishing, Mr. Michaels. Why, it could be a year before I see any money from the sale of this story. And, even then, it’ll come in dribs and drabs as the book sells.” He coughed nervously. “If it sells! And then, I’d have to find you to deliver your—uh, your share—”

  “So, you’re saying my life’s work won’t be of interest to a big-shot editor in New York?”

  While Tom and Amos snickered, Frank wondered if it was possible for the man’s face to go any whiter.

  “No, of course, that isn’t what I’m saying. It’s just—well, I’ve never had a book published before, so it might take a while for them to research my background. You know, to decide if I’m worth their investment of paper and ink.”

  “So, tell me, Collin, if they don’t think you’re worth the gamble,” Frank said, resting both elbows on the table, “why should I? There must be hundreds of would-be writers like you out there who’d jump at the chance to tell my story—writers with books already published, who won’t need to be ‘checked out.’ What if I just ask one of them to write the book, instead?”

  “Well, I hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms.” Gardiner pushed back from the table and started to rise. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Michaels. I’ll just
be—”

  “Sit down, boy. Can’t you tell when someone’s funnin’ with you?” Once Gardiner returned to his seat, Frank said, “Now, where is your paper and pencil?”

  “Lookit his hands a-shakin’,” Frank heard Tom whisper.

  “Yeah, Frank. Ease up on the poor fool,” Amos said. “How do you expect him to write if you’re gonna scare him so bad he can’t hold his pencil?”

  The two men shared a round of boisterous laughter, and the one good thing to come of the commotion, in Frank’s mind, was that being the butt of their joke had put the color back into the man’s cheeks. Frank slammed a fist onto the table, rattling beer steins and shot glasses. “You two have a choice to make, boys.”

  Their startled expressions made it clear that he had their attention.

  “You can sit there quietly and pretend you have some manners, or you can leave.”

  Amos upended his shot glass and set it down with a thud. “Think I’ll see what-all they call a bathhouse in these parts,” he said, getting to his feet. He tossed a silver dollar onto the table and was out the door before the coin stopped spinning.

  Tom stared after him, clearly undecided about whether he should stay or follow. Then, he added a dollar of his own to the table and swallowed the last of his beer. “Bath sounds mighty good,” he said, and with that, he was gone.

  Frank had won more than his fair share of poker hands—some, not quite so fairly—and took great pride in the fact that he knew how to read a man. And if Gardiner wasn’t sitting there, wishing he could join Amos and Tom, Frank would eat his pistol. He decided to soften his approach—at least, until the fool had finished the book. The Guns of Frank Michaels had a nice ring to it, and the more he repeated the title in his mind, the more he wanted to see it in print.

  “Barkeep, bring my friend here a bottle of your best,” he said to the man in an apron who came to collect their empty glasses.

  When the bartender left them, Frank leaned back and propped his feet on the table, one boot atop the other. “So, tell me, Collin, where do we start?”