Her eyelid began to twitch while she waited for him to repeat the insult.
"A pretty little heifer," Smiley told her.
She drew herself up to her full height and glared at the men. Caution be damned.
"Millie? I can't seem to make up my mind. Which one do you think is uglier? The one with the black teeth or the one with the fat head?"
Millie let out another gasp. Her eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of her face. "Are you trying to get them mad, girl?"
Smiley took a step toward Emily. "She's Travis Clayborne's woman," Millie cried out. "If you touch her, he'll kill you."
"We ain't got no quarrel with Clayborne," Smiley muttered. "He won't know what happened until it's too late. He's busy with the others out front, and we'll be long gone with our whiskey and money before he comes inside. Ain't that right, Carter?"
"We can ride fast when we got to," his friend boasted. "Go and push the little heifer clear into the dining room. I'll back you up."
Millie started to slowly edge her way to the table, hoping she could duck underneath to protect herself from Carter's knife while she screamed for her husband. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Emily wasn't trying to back away from the man stalking her.
"Run," Millie cried out.
Emily shook her head. "Not until I help you take the garbage out."
The remark made Smiley stop. He swayed on his feet, staggered backward, then turned to Carter. "Is she talking about us?"
"What's come over you?" Millie whispered.
"Anger. I don't appreciate being called a cow; I don't like being threatened, and I hate the way they're scaring you," Emily answered. She kept her gaze on the drunks. "Millie has asked you to leave. Please do as she says."
Smiley snorted. He put his arms out at his sides and tried to rush her. He was so drunk, he bounced against the counter twice and lost more distance than he'd gained.
"Get behind my back," Millie shouted.
Emily was too busy at the moment to explain she wasn't about to do such a cowardly thing. Timing, after all, was everything. She nervously waited until Smiley was just about two feet away from her, then swung her arm in a wide arc and slammed the frying pan up against the side of his head.
Spittle went flying every which way as Smiley staggered backward, screeching like a wounded rooster, before he finally collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Carter was so taken aback by her attack he dropped his knife. "You knocked him stupid," he bellowed.
"No," Emily corrected in what she believed was a reasonable tone of voice. "He was already stupid. I knocked him out."
Her heart was frantically pounding, and her hand shook as she lifted the hem of her skirt, stepped over the prone man, and continued on toward his cohort. She had to get to him before he remembered he'd dropped the knife, or both Millie and she were going to be in real trouble.
Carter wasn't as drunk as she thought he was. Quick as a pistol shot, he squatted down, scooped up his knife, and snarled at her like a mad dog.
Emily took a hasty step back. Millie tried to help her by throwing everything she could get her hands on at Carter. He ducked the cup and saucer she hurled at him, but the copper kettle clipped him on his shoulder.
He let out a howl of pain, his gaze shifting back and forth between his two adversaries. Emily thought he was trying to decide which one to go after first. Millie drew his attention when she started screaming her husband's name over and over again. Emily seized the opportunity and slammed the frying pan into his elbow. She let out a yelp of dismay, for she'd tried to knock the knife out of his hand and had missed by an arm's length.
Carter shouted with rage, and from the look in his eyes, she knew his intentions had just turned deadly.
Chapter Seven
He never touched her. One second she was staring at his ugly expression and the next she was looking at Travis's broad back. He seemed to have appeared out of thin air, and though she didn't have the faintest idea how he'd managed to get in front of her without making a sound, she was so happy to see him she patted his back.
The odds, after all, had just improved considerably. Emily moved to his side just in time to see his fist strike Carter below his chin. The force behind the blow was so powerful it sent him flying out the doorway through the screen. He landed on his back in the grass with his legs draped over Millie's butter churn.
Travis wanted to hit him again. He was so furious he was shaking. When Jack told him there were two men in the kitchen threatening Emily, Travis became enraged. He got scared too, and that enraged him all the more. His heart felt as if it was going to jump out of his chest as he raced toward the house. When he saw the son-of-a-bitch waving a knife in Emily's face, something snapped inside of him, and he suddenly wanted to tear her attacker apart limb by limb.
The idea still appealed to him. For a full minute he kept his attention on the man he'd knocked senseless, willing him to get up so he could hit him again, but the drunk didn't cooperate. He was out cold, and Travis finally accepted the fact that he wasn't going to be able to beat the hell out of him.
He turned around, put his hands on Emily's shoulders, and asked her to look up at him.
"Are you all right?" His voice was a rough whisper. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, he didn't hurt me," she answered, surprised at how weak her voice sounded.
He noticed the iron pan in her hand then, took it away from her, and put it on the counter.
Emily suddenly needed to sit down. Now that the danger had passed, the reaction hit with a vengeance. Her knees went weak and she was suddenly shivering with cold. She turned away from Travis, pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, and plunked herself down on the seat.
John came running into the kitchen. He looked at his wife first, saw that she was all right, and turned to survey the damage. His gaze shifted back and forth between the remnants of the screen door and the man sleeping spread-eagle on his floor.
Emily watched him shake his head as he pulled his wife into his arms and hugged her. Emily wished Travis would put his arms around her, hold her tight, and comfort her in much the same way John was comforting his wife. Did the Perkinses know how fortunate they were to have found each other?
John placed a kiss on Millie's forehead before once again turning to the unconscious man littering his floor.
"What happened to him?"
Millie joined Emily at the table before she answered him. She sat down with a loud, weary sigh, and then said, "She's what happened to him." She pointed at Emily to emphasize the fact. "John, I don't know what came over her. One minute she was trying to squeeze herself into the wall, and the next minute she was banging my best frying pan up against his head. It was something he said that set her off."
Travis leaned against the counter, folded his arms across his chest, and stared down at Emily. He watched her lower her gaze to her lap and noticed a faint blush cover her cheeks.
He couldn't understand her timidity now. "Emily, are you embarrassed about something?"
She answered with a dainty shrug of her shoulders. He didn't have the faintest idea what that gesture was supposed to mean. She'd acted like a wild mountain cat moments before, ready and willing to do as much damage as she could with her frying pan, and though Travis had kept his attention on the drunk threatening her with a knife, he had noticed the determined glint in Emily's eyes when he'd moved to stand in front of her.
Now she was acting like a woman who could swoon at the drop of a hat.
John put his hand on Millie's shoulder and gave her an affectionate squeeze. "I'm going to put a strong bolt on that door before I go to bed. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."
"I'm not embarrassed. I'm ashamed. I deliberately provoked them."
Travis was the only one who heard Emily's whisper. "How did you provoke them?"
"I lost my temper. I shouldn't have though, because I put Millie in danger."
"How'd you
do that?" John asked.
"She did no such thing, John," Millie said.
"Yes, I did. I incited them," Emily argued. "I deliberately made them angry by telling them how ugly I thought they were."
Travis squatted down beside her and took hold of her hands. "Look at me," he ordered.
She lifted her gaze to his. "I should have tried to placate them, but they made me so angry. One of them called me a heifer."
A hint of a smile crossed his face. "A heifer?"
"That's what did it, all right," Millie interjected. "She got that mean look in her eyes right after that one named Carter called her a 'pretty little heifer.'"
Emily straightened her shoulders. "No woman likes to be called a cow," she announced in her haughtiest voice.
Travis and John both tried to hide their grins. Millie shook her head. "I think he was complimenting you in his own vile way. He didn't call you a cow, Emily. He called you a pretty heifer," she reminded her.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't they the same thing? Travis, I don't believe I've said anything amusing. Why are you smiling?"
"Your indignation," he replied.
John insisted on hearing every detail, and Millie was happy to oblige. Travis listened as he dragged Smiley out of the kitchen and shoved him into the grass next to his friend. His attention kept returning to Emily, and after he'd finished his chore, he leaned against the doorframe and blatantly stared at her.
She had been shivering a few minutes before, but under his close scrutiny, she was feeling uncomfortably warm in no time at all. She was also having difficulty drawing a deep breath.
John drew her attention when he pulled out a chair and sat down next to his wife. Emily watched him put his hand on top of Millie's, and it was that simple, little gesture of affection that proved to be her own undoing. She was suddenly so consumed with such hot, painful longings for Travis, she wanted to weep. She couldn't understand what was happening to her. She had never had lustful, carnal thoughts before, but she was certainly having them now, and how was that possible? Why was she yearning for something she had never experienced?
Emily made the mistake of looking at the man who was responsible for her misery. The sight of him only intensified her erotic thoughts, and she hurried to look away.
She wasn't quick enough though. Wanting him was bad enough. What made it worse was that she was certain he knew it. The dark look in his eyes told her so.
She jumped to her feet, nearly overturning her chair in her haste. She needed to get busy, she told herself, to take her mind off her outrageous daydreams. She decided to clean up the mess around her, but Millie paused in her story to insist that Emily sit back down.
She was simply too agitated to sit anywhere, and so she stood by the entrance to the dining room instead. She was deliberately trying to put as much distance between herself and Travis as possible. She didn't dare look at him again, so she pretended grave interest in Millie's every word.
And, Lord, it was hot in the kitchen.
"John, what took you and Travis so long to get in here?" Millie asked.
"We had our hands full; that's what took us so long," he replied. "Corrigan told me five men were heading this way, but he was wrong about the number. There were eight of them out front trying to get inside, and all but two were stinking drunk. We didn't know a couple of others were sneaking up on the back door. I sure did itch to shoot them, Millie."
"What held you back?" she asked.
"Four of them decided to take Travis on, and all at the same time. They came at him from every direction, putting him right in the thick of it."
Emily's eyes widened, and she couldn't stop herself from looking at Travis. "You were in the thick of it? You don't have a mark on you."
"His fists have got to be tender," John interjected.
"I had to keep my shotgun trained on the other hooligans so they wouldn't try any nonsense on me. It was a real fracas, I'm telling you, and One-Eyed Jack was the only one enjoying himself. He looked like he was having a mighty fine time. As pretty as you please, he sat himself down on my front stoop, until he remembered seeing two of the men going around back. We would have gotten here sooner if Jack hadn't been so preoccupied."
Emily enjoyed the way John painted a story. She could picture Jack slapping his knee in amusement while he watched the fight, and she almost burst into laughter then. The contrary mountain man was unlike any other man she'd ever met.
"I'm glad he finally remembered," she said.
"Didn't you hear me shout for you, John?"
"Now, Millie, with all the commotion going on out front, how could I hear you?"
"If you hadn't come inside when you did, I don't know what would have happened," Emily admitted.
"You were holding your own," he told her.
"Millie, I'm so sorry I scared you."
"You didn't scare me. You sure did surprise me though. I forgot all about the frying pan until you whacked it upside his head."
"We'd better put her in the corner room, don't you suppose, Travis?" John asked. "No one can get to her through the window, and I imagine you'll hear anyone coming down the hall. I don't suppose those two sleeping it off in my backyard will sober up enough to come after Emily, but we shouldn't be taking any chances."
"Are you going to let Murphy's men sleep inside tonight?" Emily asked.
"Just the two who aren't drunk," John explained. "I'll put them at the opposite end of the house, so you don't need to worry. Travis will be in the room next to you."
John's last remark wasn't at all comforting. Having Travis so close seemed as dangerous to her as having Smiley in the next room. Travis wouldn't hurt her, of course, and he wouldn't force himself on her either, but then he wouldn't have to, would he? The mere thought of being alone with him did crazy things to her heart, and she could hear the warning bells ringing loud and clear in the back of her head.
Travis moved away from the door. "I'll show her where her room is," he remarked, completely ignoring Emily shaking her head at him.
He caught hold of her hand and continued on into the dining room. She tried to pull away from his grasp, but he tightened his hold to let her know he wasn't letting go.
Jack hovered near the front door, waiting for Emily. "I'm wanting to leave now," he announced.
Emily smiled at him. "Thank you again for going along with my game, Jack."
"I'm wanting to shake your hand before I leave," he muttered. "Unlatch her for a minute, Clayborne. I'm not going to steal her."
Travis let him have his way. He watched the two of them shake hands and couldn't help but notice the surprised look on Emily's face.
Jack leaned close to her, whispered something into her ear, and then pulled away. "I might be running into you again real soon," he predicted. He shoved his hat on his head, turned around, and stomped out the front door.
Emily hurried to get around Travis before he tried to grab hold of her again. She bent down to pick up the hem of her skirt and then went upstairs.
Travis stayed right behind her. "What did he say to you?"
She reached the landing, turned around, and held out her hand.
Travis saw the five dollars and started laughing. "I knew Jack was taken with you, but I never thought he'd give you your money back."
"He's a dear man."
He looked exasperated. "No, he isn't. He's a cantankerous old goat. He smells like one too. He sure does like you though."
"I like him too," she assured him.
Because he stood on the step below her, they were almost eye-to-eye. All she could think of was moving into his arms and kissing him. Emily realized then that she was staring at his mouth. Dear God, he was bound to know what she was thinking. It was all his fault, she decided. If he weren't such a handsome rogue, she surely wouldn't be having such impossible thoughts now.
"I'm tired tonight," she blurted out.
"You should be tired. You had your hands full with those drunks in the kitchen."
"I was scared."
"There isn't anything wrong with being scared. You used your wits."
Where in thunder were her wits now, she frantically wondered. Travis was turning her into a nervous twit, and if she didn't get away from him soon, heaven only knew what she would do.
She quickly turned around. "You don't need to follow me to my room. I'll find it by myself."
If he noticed her voice trembled, he didn't say anything about it. He caught hold of her hand and led her down the dark hallway to the door at the end of the corridor.
His arm brushed against hers as he leaned past her to open the door. "Your bags are probably inside."
"Yes, they probably are," she replied for lack of anything better to say.
Travis glanced inside and then nodded. "They're in the corner by the window."
"Your satchels," he explained when she gave him a puzzled look.
She shook herself out of her stupor and hurried inside. Travis stayed in the doorway. He knew he should pull the door closed now and walk away. He couldn't make himself move though, and, God help him, he couldn't stop staring at her either.
She was standing entirely too close to the bed, and he was rapidly coming up with all sorts of possibilities.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "If you need anything, let me know."
"Thank you."
"Good night, Emily."
"Good night, Travis," she whispered back.
And still he didn't move. She took a step closer to him. "It's hot in here, isn't it?"
"Are you hot?"
"Yes."
"Me too."
"Where are you sleeping?"
"Close-by," he answered. "I'll hear you if you call out."
"I won't."
"But if you do…"
"You'll hear me."
"Yes."
"I'll try not to bother you."
His smile was devastatingly appealing. "I'm already bothered, Emily, and from the way you're looking at me, I'd say you're real bothered too."
She didn't try to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. She took another step toward him just as he moved toward her. And suddenly she was in his arms and she was kissing him with all the passion she had inside her.
One Pink Rose, One White Rose, One Red Rose Page 7
