The Last Cahill Cowboy

by Jenna Kernan

  Oscar stared his wife down. On most occasions he tried charm or flattery and to good result. But this was different. Ellie could feel it. She took a step closer, drawn by the invisible force that keeps one from looking away before an accident.

  “Minnie, this boy saved a woman’s life. He saved our daughter’s life and he is welcome in my hotel for as long as he likes.”

  “Your hotel? I like that,” she huffed, turning so she looked at her husband over her shoulder. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any rooms at present.”

  “You have the one Rogers occupied.”

  Minnie glowered. “It isn’t ready for guests.”

  Oscar took hold of his wife’s arm and steered her into his office. Chance lifted his brows and stared at Ellie in question. She shook her head, not sure what would happen next.

  “Y’all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. Are you?”

  Chance removed his hat. Ellie couldn’t keep herself from a sharp intake of breath. All the dark growth of beard had been scraped from his cheeks revealing a face that was familiar and yet not. He seemed leaner than she recalled and his features more striking. His dark hair was now slicked neatly back so she could see his stunning pale blue eyes. They reminded her of blue topaz, clear and bright.

  “What’s the matter? I got mud on my nose?” asked Chance.

  Ellie blinked, suddenly mortified to have been caught gawking.

  “You look different.”

  “Yup, no trail dust.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. It was the very first gesture that did not radiate supreme confidence.

  That gave Ellie hope. Perhaps Chance was not the man she supposed. Was it possible that he, too, was not always as self-assured as he seemed? She mentally compared the man who had come barreling through the door with the one that now stood before her and smiled.

  “You look very nice.”

  He nodded and the devilish grin returned.

  “Don’t worry about them,” she said by way of reassurance, motioning toward the office.

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh,” she said, off balance again. If he wasn’t concerned about the disagreement her parents were having, what could have unsettled him? Perhaps she’d misread him.

  Ellie rested a hand flat on the big solid reassurance of the long reception desk, specially made for this very spot. The smooth grain of the waxed wood grounded her and she lifted her chin a notch, meeting his sky-blue eyes.

  He stepped closer and she smelled the bay rum splash the barber had used. She could now see the gray flecks about his black pupils and the dark lashes that framed his unsettling eyes.

  “Why do you stay here?”

  The question caught her off guard. Immediately, she retreated behind her defenses. What right did he have to come in here and ask her such personal questions?

  “This is my home.”

  He held her gaze a long moment.

  “When it makes you unhappy, it’s time to go.”

  That comment, so close to her own musings, starched her spine. “Not everyone solves their problems by running away when things do not turn out precisely as they would like.”

  The corners of his mouth dropped and his eyes went cold as stone. She knew then what those men he chased saw in their final moments and it was more frightening than a bullet.

  He placed his palm down and her hand completely disappeared beneath it. A shiver of excitement began at the point of contact and tingled straight up her arm. His hand was warm but his eyes were cold.

  Ellie braced herself for a fight. He’d forgotten that she’d known him since he was a boy in short trousers.

  “You trying to run me off?”

  “You don’t need me for that. I recall that you’re a mighty good runner.”

  “And you. Seems your specialty is running men off.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  His smile said he wasn’t buying.

  “You can do as you like. You always have.” She pulled her hand free of his. “I’m sure it’s nothing to me.”

  Did her voice sound strange to him, as well? She swallowed and tried to compose herself, folding her hands before her.

  “Nothing to you? Sounds like a challenge.”

  She stammered now, fearing she had unwittingly kicked a hornet’s nest. This was not the fun-loving, irresponsible boy she remembered. She did not know this man, did not know if she wanted to know him.

  “It most certainly is not. Nothing of the kind.”

  Chance smiled, but his eyes remained fixed on her like a hawk sighting a rabbit.

  “Your father invited me to stay.”

  “But my mother is against it.”

  “She always win?”

  Ellie nodded as Oscar and Minnie Jenkins reappeared from the office. Her mother’s face was flushed and Oscar’s lips were tight. He carried Chance’s saddlebags in his right hand.

  Ellie glanced at Chance, giving him a look of victory.

  Minnie spoke first. “Mr. Cahill, we are in debt to you for protecting Ellen Louise and if you are not disinclined to staying in a room without a lock, we would be most happy to accommodate you.”

  Ellie’s jaw dropped as she stared first at her mother and then her father. Her mother had given way. What in the world had gone on in there?

  “We’ll have that door fixed in the morning, son,” said Oscar. Then he turned to Ellie. “You show Chance up to his room. I’ll see to things down here until you get him situated.”

  Ellie was about to refuse. She was not a porter and she had duties at the restaurant. But something about the look in her father’s eyes made her back down, as she always did. Most of her defiance happened only in her head, as she never did get around to speaking her mind.

  “Yes, Papa.” She reached for the bag, but Chance beat her to it and their hands brushed again.

  Ellie clenched her fingers against the same quivering awareness that rippled through her the first time he touched her and pulled back.

  “This way, Chance.”

  They both knew the way. So why had her father sent her above stairs alone with a man who was said to be more dangerous than a war party of Comanche?

  Chapter Six

  Ellie mounted the stairs. Behind her, Chance’s slow, steady tread told her that he matched her pace step for step. She regretted her comment about him running and felt ashamed of herself. She meant to tell him so when they reached his room.

  She knew how unbearable Earl’s and Ruby’s deaths had been for all the family. She had been with Leanna at the 4C when they’d received the news and her friend had wept as if her heart had broken. Chance, on the other hand, had vanished as he often did until Bowie had tracked him down. After the funeral, Ellie had watched helplessly as the family broke apart. All she knew was that there had been words and that Bowie, Leanna and Chance had left Quin to handle the ranch alone. She’d seen Quin struggle under the burden of that responsibility and was glad he had his new wife to help him.

  Then Bowie had come home and the next thing she knew the former marshal had murdered two men and tried to kill Bowie. She could scarcely believe that Tobias Hobbs had headed the rustling ring and had died in the shootout. Leanna had returned only two months back and caused the first real scandal in the new town. Ellie had found a way to see her friend despite her mother forbidding it. Leanna was no more a fallen woman than Ellie was and she was proud of the work Leanna was doing with women in need. Leanna was willing to help those that everyone else disdained. It showed the kind of guts that all the Cahills shared.

  Ellie mulled over all that had been happening. Trouble with rustlers at all the ranches in the spring, Bowie’s return and his exposure of Tobias Hobbs in the summer and Leanna’s deadly confrontation with the banker’s son, Presley Van Slyck. Now Chance had returned.

  What did it mean?

  Chance drew up beside her. He appeared bigger here in this confined space of the corridor and as out of place as a tumbleweed in a parl
or. Even without the dust and growth of beard, Chance didn’t belong here. Not that his mother hadn’t taught him proper manners. No, Ruby had done her duty with all her children. She’d be proud of them, but saddened, as well, to see the rift between her boys. Leanna had mended fences with Bowie, but Ellie wasn’t sure about Quin. He’d objected to Leanna arriving in town with a baby and no husband, as if the child was at fault for Leanna’s troubles.

  Ellie didn’t know who the father was, but neither did she need to. He was Leanna’s and that was good enough. She couldn’t think of another woman alive who would have endured what Leanna had to protect that child.

  Chance gently clasped Ellie’s elbow.

  “This one. Isn’t it?”

  Had she really been about to walk right by?

  “Woolgathering?” asked Chance.

  Ellie made a noise that was neither yes nor no, but more like the sound a dog makes when it’s dreaming.

  She held out the key like a miniature sword and bent slightly, realizing too late that the key was rendered superfluous by the door being cracked off its hinges and the lock having been torn from its housing. Chance placed his fingers on the solid oak and pushed. The strike plate and lock moved together with the wood earlier splintered from the frame. Had that really only been a few hours ago?

  Ellie had not been back in this room since she’d pulled Mrs. Rogers from her husband’s remains. She glanced within. The maids had removed the carpet and replaced the bedding.

  Chance took in his surroundings and then returned to her, as if checking for her reaction. Without taking his eyes from her, he tossed his saddlebags, succeeding in hitting the bed rail. He retained possession of his hat, holding it in his left hand, down at his side below his holster.

  “What are you thinking, Ellie-Lou?”

  “No one calls me that anymore.”

  “How about Squirt?”

  She shook her head and laughed. “No, never.”

  “Well, you aren’t a squirt anymore, I guess.” His gentle smile was back and with it that trembling in her belly and dryness in her mouth.

  She took a step closer, drawn by the warmth of his smile, the cleft in his chin and the glint in his eyes. From this vantage point she could see where the body had lain. Her eyes tracked across the room to the bullet hole just this side of the window and the place where she had been standing.

  Chance followed her line of sight.

  “Ellie, sometimes, when a person sees a thing like this, well, sometimes the mind dwells on it, like at night when you’re trying to sleep. Or it might spring up at you unexpectedly during the day, like a rattlesnake.”

  Did that happen to him? Was he haunted by the men he had killed? Ellie felt a pang of empathy for the man who slayed dangerous outlaws and then had to live with the consequences.

  “If your mind is uneasy, you can talk to me about it,” he said.

  “I appreciate that, Chance. And I’m sorry for what I said before.”

  His eyes were tender once more. She thought of the gentle embrace. She wanted that connection again. Ellie held her breath. She wanted to kiss him. Not that silly, childish peck he’d given her on the cheek, but a real kiss. It wasn’t wise.

  But he would do it if their roles were reversed.

  Chance didn’t ask permission. He didn’t have to placate or try to disappear. He needed no one’s approval. No one told him what to do, while it seemed people had been ordering her around her entire life.

  She stepped closer, her heart already hammering at what she meant to do.

  For some reason it was important for him to see her, not as some little mouse, but as a woman with courage—or if not courage, exactly, at least daring.

  Chance remained still as glass as she took another step forward and rested her hands upon the lapels of his newly oiled vest.

  The top of her head didn’t even reach his chin. When had he gotten so tall, and how would she reach his mouth without hopping?

  He looked down at her, waiting expectantly as if he already knew what she would do next.

  “I’d like to thank you for saving my life.”

  Chance dropped his hat as Ellie rose on her toes. She didn’t have to hop, for he collected her in his arms and pulled her tight. She collided with the solid mass of his chest and was enveloped with the scent of oiled leather and bay rum. He cradled her head in one large palm, capturing her as he swept down on her like an eagle in freefall. Ellie closed her eyes.

  The contact of his mouth to hers caused a shuddering jolt of sensation like dropping a stone into still water. What followed were the sinuous ripples that flowed through her, making it hard to catch her breath. His caresses tingled across her like a warm wind. As his lips moved over hers, parting them, Ellie felt herself falling backward, giving herself over to his strength and his control. As he held them both in that perfect moment, she lifted her arms to encircle his neck and allowed his muscular tongue to stroke hers.

  He set her on her feet again, drawing away by slow degrees as she clung like a needy child. It was her recognition that she clutched at him that caused her finally to let go and step back.

  Ellie felt a moment of utter embarrassment as she realized she had lost complete control of herself, and that Chance had been forced to pluck her off him as if she were a tick.

  “Oh, my heavens,” she said, her eyes wide with horror and her face burning hot as a kettle at full boil.

  Chance stooped to retrieve his hat and then lifted it to his chest, glancing past her, down the hallway.

  “Evening,” he said to the couple just cresting the stairs.

  She stared, slack-jawed, from the guests and back to him again as realization dawned. He’d heard them. Somehow, as she had lost her sense of everything in this world but him, Chance had been mindful enough to hear these guests coming and protect her reputation.

  She knew she should be grateful, but for some reason his complete lack of involvement was more annoying than the recognition that she had just thrown herself at him. Was he so completely untouched by their encounter? But Chance must have had many women, just like all the Cahill men.

  His father had picked Ruby, the apple of every man’s eye, according to her father. And Quin had picked Addie K., and Bowie had picked Merritt, and Chance would choose an equally stunning woman, not someone that no one noticed at first or second glance.

  He turned back to her, a silly smile on his face. Her irritation crumbled into humiliation. She wished she could disappear right now. But he kept his eye on her. She considered running.

  “This room will be just fine, Miss Jenkins. I do thank you for seeing me up.”

  Ellie’s ears prickled as her disgrace solidified to mortification.

  The couple nodded as they passed. The Rawlingses, she recalled, from Corpus Christi, visiting for the wedding of their cousin’s eldest daughter, Jane.

  After they had passed, Chance placed the key back in her hand. When had he taken it?

  “It’s unlocked, in case you want to come up later and thank me some more. We’ll close the door next time.”

  She had a good mind to slap his arrogant face.

  “Chance Cahill, I am not some little…little… You should know better than to insult me like that.”

  His confident smile slipped. “Sorry, Squirt.”

  “And don’t call me that. I’m only two years younger than you are.”

  “If you stood up to your mama this way, she wouldn’t treat you like the help.”

  She aimed a finger at him and then recalled the last time she’d done that she’d nearly broken her neck on the woodpile. She lowered her weapon.

  “You don’t know anything about me, Chance. Not anymore.”

  “But I’d like to. My, I do like that fire in your eyes.”

  One look at Chance told her exactly what his words implied. He thought this all some little joke at her expense.

  “I am not going to sneak into your room, Chance Cahill. In fact, I’m going to stay c
lear of you from now on, because I want a husband, not a reputation.”

  That stopped him. His brows shot up and his jaw clamped shut, turning his sensual smile into a grim line. An instant later he was scowling and she was smiling in satisfaction, feeling she had regained a tiny piece of her dignity as she stepped out to the center of the hall.

  He came after her, holding the door frame as he swung out blocking her retreat. She halted. His annoyance was now masked behind a smooth, charming smile and that devilish glint in his eye. If she didn’t know better she might have doubted she had gotten his goat.

  She scowled at him, arms folded tight before her.

  “But I smell real nice. Don’t I?”

  The man seemed determined to provoke her. Well, she simply would not allow it. She would not be his toy, nor would she be his source of amusement. Men as handsome as Chance did not pick girls as ordinary as her. So she forced a tenuous smile, wishing for a thimbleful of his pluck.

  “Good evening, Mr. Cahill. Please let us know if there is anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable.”

  “I can think of a couple of things right now.”

  She fumed at the speed with which he’d gained the upper hand again. Admitting defeat, she struggled for a dignity that she did not feel. She would have liked to call that a draw, but somehow felt Chance had the edge. Ellie managed to duck under his arm and hurry back to the safety of the ground floor and her pretty little cage. It seemed his reflexes were not all that quick. Was that because she’d been faster or because he didn’t care enough to stop her?

  Chance finished the last of his supper at Leanna’s Place and sat back with a sigh. Cassie hovered at his elbow, a little too eager to please. These were Leanna’s girls and he knew they were no longer in the business of taking a man upstairs, but he wasn’t quite sure Cassie recalled that. His sister had been absolutely right about not staying here.

  “So how is Ellie?” Leanna asked.

  Chance dropped his knife and it clattered to the floor. Cassie had it before he could lean over the arm of his chair. They came up nose to nose.

  “Thank you, Cassie. I think Chance is done now.”