The Last Cahill Cowboy

by Jenna Kernan

  Merritt patted the older woman’s hand. “One more for breakfast please, Jemima.”

  The woman advanced but kept her back to the wall as she scooted through the swinging door.

  “That was fairly thoughtless,” said Leanna.

  “Well, how am I supposed to appear not to speak to either of you and still speak to you?” he asked.

  “You keep this up and you won’t have to act,” said Bowie.

  “It’s all right,” said Merritt.

  “No, it’s not,” said Bowie.

  Cleve intervened, drawing out a chair. “Chance, why don’t you sit here beside your sister?”

  Bowie and Chance glared a moment and then Chance took the offered seat. Bowie settled into the one opposite and beside Merritt.

  “You do have a knack,” whispered Bowie, and then flinched and said, “Ow.”

  He glanced to his fiancée, who was lifting a coffeepot and giving no indication that she knew why Bowie was now rubbing his shin.

  Chance was surprised to find Leanna and Cleve here. They had the baby, Cabe, with them but Melvin was mercifully at school. After a few moments of one-sided conversation, led by Cleve again, Leanna joined in. Cleve did have a knack for making his sister laugh, and when she did, she lit up the room. Cleve even took that baby on his lap and fed him toast dipped in a saucer of milk. That seemed to make Leanna happy, too. Chance didn’t understand how Cleve could act as if that boy was his. It would kill Chance if his wife brought home another man’s child.

  But wasn’t that what many widows did? He pondered that as he feasted on a first-class breakfast. The biscuits were nearly as good as his mother’s.

  He kept glancing from Leanna to Bowie, listening to them laugh. Bowie, laughing. He couldn’t believe his ears, and the way his brother looked at Merritt made Chance envious and sick all at once.

  This was what it was like, he realized, the way it had been at his parents’ table all those years ago and the way it would be at Leanna’s and Bowie’s and Quin’s in the future. He looked about him, glimpsing the kind of happiness that a man could have if he were fearless enough to stay in one place and put down roots. If he were brave enough to let himself feel something again. Chance had been dead inside for so long, he didn’t know how to come back to the land of the living. He wasn’t sure until now that he wanted to.

  He tried to picture Ellie fussing over him as Leanna did over Cleve or having her look at him the way Merritt did at Bowie when he wasn’t looking. But he stopped himself. That life was never going to happen—not to him, anyway.

  He was strong enough for dying, just not brave enough for living.

  Bowie waited until Merritt left the room before speaking to Chance directly. “We found Miguel floating in the river this morning with a knife in his back.”

  “You know who killed him?”

  Bowie shook his head.

  Chance drew his chair closer to the table. His brother leaned in, closing the gap between them.

  “I followed the Fitzgerald boys the other night. Saw something real interesting.”

  Bowie folded his big hands before him, obviously interested.

  “They’re shaking down the business owners over there.”

  It was Leanna who spoke first, thumping a fist on the table and making her cup and saucer rattle. “I knew it!”

  Bowie glanced at her. “Did you, now? Then why is this the first I’m hearing of it.”

  “I didn’t have any proof.”

  Chance spoke. “Now you do. I’m an eyewitness.”

  “But I can’t use you. We’re not supposed to be speaking.”

  “Quin could do it.”

  Bowie’s expression turned cautious. “Was he there?”

  “No, but I’ll just tell him what I—”

  Bowie threw himself back in his chair. “No. We don’t do things like that here.”

  “Fine. Then you wait for Quin to rope in the banker, but my money is on Fitzgerald or Womack.”

  “Which one?” asked Leanna.

  Chance gave her a look and pressed his lips together.

  “Well?” said Bowie.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  The brothers faced off, only this time Chance found himself in the unusual position of trying unsuccessfully to get Bowie to do something instead of the other way around.

  He didn’t like it.

  It was Cleve who again acted as arbitrator. “I could follow Ira and Johny tonight. Meanwhile, Chance could give you the names of the owners who he saw pay out and you could go speak to them. If one or more of the gentlemen can be convinced to do the right thing, well…” He gave a shrug.

  Both Bowie and Chance gaped at him and Leanna beamed at her husband.

  Chance gave Bowie the names of the men he’d seen paying the Fitzgerald boys off.

  “You speak to Slocum yet?” asked Chance.

  Bowie shook his head. “Waiting for office hours.”

  Someone knocked at the front door. Chance stood, placing his napkin on the table in his preparation to leave. Merritt returned from the kitchen.

  “Thank you for the fine breakfast, Miz Dixon.”

  She smiled. “I thought I asked you to call me Merritt.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I don’t want to be seen with Bowie. You understand.”

  She asked Jemima to see him out, but before he could clear the back steps, Bowie was there calling him back.

  “Think you better come in here.”

  He returned to the dining room to find Ellie, weeping onto Leanna’s shoulder.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Leanna leveled a killer look in his direction. “Ellie has left the hotel.”

  “I’m not going back,” said Ellie.

  “Why?” asked Chance.

  Ellie lifted her head to stare at him and so did everyone else in the room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leanna led Ellie from the hall into Merritt’s cozy parlor and sat with her on a settee facing the large fireplace. Merritt joined them instantly, taking the seat adjacent, while Bowie and Chance shifted nervously in the doorway glancing at each other and then back to the women.

  Bowie fled first. “Maybe I best go find Slocum.”

  Merritt glanced up and gave a barely perceptible nod. Was that the way it was now? Bowie needed her permission to leave the room. Chance vowed to never let himself get into such a situation. Then he looked at Ellie and called himself a liar.

  Cleve appeared with Jemima a moment later carrying a flowered teapot. What in the world was happening to the men in this family? Jemima deposited a tray of toast and jam, then left without a word.

  Cleve and Leanna began a completely silent exchange that was incomprehensible to Chance, the upshot being that Chance ended up alone in the room with the three women.

  He recognized he’d landed in dangerous territory and he edged toward the hall when Leanna snared him like a jackrabbit.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He widened his eyes, thinking, Anywhere but here.

  She gave him a tight little shake of her head and a warning glare.

  Likely this was his fault. He looked at Ellie, hiding her face in her hands as she wept, and felt lower than dust. He backed up into the hall, sitting on the small bench that butted up against the stairs.

  Over the course of the next ten minutes, Leanna succeeded in getting the story out of Ellie. She had argued with her mother about bailing Chance out and allowing the doctor to court her. But if her parents didn’t know about their evening together, why was she defying them? She’d lived her whole adult life with their rules and the constraints of a woman in search of a husband. Or she had, until he’d arrived and confused her to the point where she didn’t know what was best. But he did.

  “Well, you are certainly free to stay with me,” said Leanna.

  Chance realized Leanna was picking up another stray. It dawned on him that he might also fit into that category. That irritated him more t
han a burdock under a saddle blanket. But Ellie had two parents and a home and, according to her, that was where she belonged.

  “Or here,” said Merritt. “I have two vacant rooms just now.”

  Chance didn’t like the idea of Ellie being bossed, but he didn’t like seeing her run, either. Running wasn’t like her. Ellie stayed and endured like granite.

  “She should go back home,” he said.

  All the women stared at him. Then Merritt and Leanna exchanged looks. Were all women able to converse without speaking? A man didn’t stand a chance against them.

  “She is not!” said Leanna, pulling Ellie closer.

  He looked at Ellie. “You waited all this time for the right man. You put up with your ma and now you got a man, a good one, like you wanted, and you ran out. I don’t understand.”

  Ellie drew away from Leanna. He stood and met her halfway.

  “Just because I want a husband, it does not mean that I will marry anything in pants.”

  “Well, who asked you to? But running out isn’t going to solve anything. Lewis is a good man. If you don’t want the doc, then who do you want?”

  The silence in the room was deafening. As she looked up at him, for just a moment, he thought she would say, “You.” He held his breath, afraid for the first time since his parents’ deaths. Afraid she’d want him. Afraid she wouldn’t.

  “I haven’t decided,” she said. “Maybe I’ll just run off with the first man I meet. Isn’t that what you suggested?”

  He had said that to her. But that was before he knew what she wanted. Instead, she was running, and whether she said so or not, he knew he was the cause.

  He released his breath and grabbed Ellie’s wrist.

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  “Bringing you back to your father.”

  Ellie used her other hand to tug at her wrist, but Chance pulled her along. He ignored Leanna’s and Merritt’s cries of protest. They didn’t know what was best for Ellie and suddenly Ellie didn’t, either. But he did. Ellie needed to be under her parents’ roof, not causing a scandal like Leanna.

  He stopped at the door and faced them both.

  “She’s not a widow, Merritt, so she can’t do as she likes.” He held the woman’s gaze a moment and then he faced his sister. “And she’s not like you, Annie, and you don’t want her to be.”

  Both women pulled up short as if they’d hit a barbed wire fence, invisible to all but them. They didn’t look happy, but they made no further protest as he drew Ellie through the door and down the front steps of the Morning Glory Boardinghouse.

  So much for using the back door.

  Ellie had to trot to keep pace with him, but once he set his teeth on the bit there was no turning back. Ellie was living under her parents’ roof until she was properly wedded.

  She dug her heels in when they reached the hotel and Chance had to choose between carrying her or stopping. Either one would cause talk, judging from the looks of the guests on the porch who had now ceased rocking and conversing in favor of the drama they sensed would play out before them.

  “Stop,” she said.

  He did. But he kept his focus on the elaborate front door, not fifteen feet from them. He could toss her over his shoulder like a sack of corn and be in before she could even holler.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “You’re the one who said I was crazy to stay.”

  He looked at her at last, her bewildered expression and the parting of her perfect mouth. Damn, he wanted to kiss her again.

  “That was before you told me that a proper woman goes from her father’s keeping to her husband’s.”

  Ellie dropped her gaze to the dusty street.

  “And you are a proper lady.” Chance glanced around, knowing what he must do. This was his fault. He had confused her, drawn her off her path. It was his job to set her feet back on that trail again. He’d tried last night, but had obviously failed. And although it killed him to think of her with that doctor, he would not be the one to destroy her dreams.

  “Marry Lewis, Ellie.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He doesn’t make me feel like you do.”

  That comment burned him. Why the hell did he have to take her to his bed and why the hell did he want to do so again?

  His voice was low, barely a growl. “That was a mistake. You know it, Ellie. Put it behind you. If you’re to have a future, it’s not with me.”

  She looked up at him, the tears welling again. He would have preferred she shoot him in the guts, but it felt as if she already had.

  “Come on.” He took her elbow and guided her up the steps, glaring at the two men sharing a spittoon. “What are you gawking at? You never seen a lady escorted home?”

  They startled and looked away. Chance stomped up the steps, fit to be tied. He knew this was the right thing, but it grated like coarse sandpaper.

  He wished he could be the kind of man she needed, instead of the kind she wanted.

  Inside the lobby he slowed and cast her a glance. She walked with her chin high, holding her shredded dignity.

  “I’m too far gone to be respectable, Ellie.”

  “Don’t speak to me.”

  Chance glared at the receptionist behind the desk, a doughy little man with jowls like a hog and beady eyes set behind wired spectacles.

  “Where’s Mr. Jenkins?”

  The man wobbled badly, holding one hand over his heart as if to check that it was still beating. Then he pointed toward Oscar’s office, located beyond the reception desk.

  “Tell him I have his daughter.”

  Ellie tried to regain custody of her arm, but he only tightened his grip. He didn’t like it, but for once in his life he was going to do the right thing.

  Oscar appeared a moment later. His gaze flicked from Chance to his daughter and then back to him. He didn’t say a word but simply motioned them inside.

  Chance explained where he had found Ellie and that he thought it best to bring her back to their safekeeping. Ellie said nothing, just stood, grim as a pallbearer.

  Chance glanced at her. She looked so little, standing like a child called before the teacher. But she had a toughness, too. He could see it in the way she drew back her shoulders and in the way she now refused to look at him.

  Jenkins leaned back against his desk, folding his arms in a relaxed sort of way that might have put Chance at ease if Ellie was not now glaring at him.

  “Thank you for looking out for Ellie.”

  “That isn’t hard to do.”

  Oscar lifted an eyebrow at him. “Yes, I can see that.”

  He pushed off the desk and patted Chance on the shoulder, giving his neck a little squeeze as he guided him toward the door.

  “We just received an invitation to the wedding. We’re very excited to attend.”

  Chance’s step faltered. He wanted to get the heck out of here, but he paused to take the bait.

  “What wedding?”

  “Why, your brother’s. Bowie and Merritt. Just a month away. I’m sure you’re staying for that. Merritt is inviting the entire town, I think. Not like Quin. I swear that man could hardly stop working long enough to go to the church and say, ‘I do.’ And Leanna, well, we feared she would heap scandal onto scandal when she threw that new husband out almost as soon as they were wed.”

  What was he saying? Leanna and Cleve had separated? His sister had failed to mention that.

  They reached the door after a short journey that seemed to take an eternity.

  “My wife is mortified of scandal, though she forgets the stir our engagement caused.” Another clap on the back. “Why, Chance, soon you’ll be the only Cahill who isn’t married.”

  With that, Jenkins cut him adrift like a ship he had looted and scuttled.

  Ellie waited for her father to return to his office, standing formally instead of taking her usual place by the potbellied stove.

  Her temper took time to reach a boil but once there it rolled for
a good long while before cooling. Right now the target of her ire was walking out on her yet again. And the most irritating part of all was that he had told her that he would.

  “That boy is loaded with potential,” said her father, looking after the man that made Ellie’s stomach quiver and her teeth gnash.

  She turned her attention back to her father. He’d put her off balance again. She’d expected either a gentle talking to or the warm welcome of his open arms. But his hands remained clasped behind his back and his eyes had that devilish twinkle that never failed to make her mother giddy as a new foal. Despite their bickering, her parents did enjoy private time. That was obvious from the amount of time they spent in their rooms.

  What was it that he saw in Chance that was invisible to all others?

  “Mother hates him.”

  “He scares her. She wants you to have a stable man. A quiet man. One you can run like you do that restaurant. Clancy Lewis is that sort of man. He’s predictable, conscientious and a very good healer. What she doesn’t want is for you to take a risk on a half-wild stallion with wanderlust. But we aren’t talking about what your mother wants. I’d like to know what you want.”

  “He told me flatly that he’s not staying and has no interest in settling down.”

  Her father laughed. “Ellen, did you tell him you love him?”

  She sucked in a breath. Was it so obvious?

  “What is it that you see in him that no one else does?”

  Her father gave her that lopsided grin. “Myself.” He patted Ellie’s arm and guided her to the overstuffed leather chairs before the stove. All heart-to-heart conversations between them took place in these chairs that Oscar had insisted moved with them from the old hotel, despite his wife’s protests.

  “He’s nothing like you, Papa. He’s reckless with his life and takes terrible risks. It’s as if he were lost.”

  “Just like me, before I met your ma. I drifted the Atlantic Coast, rootless as seaweed.” He placed his elbows on his knees and folded his hands between them. “The reason I was so good at bringing supplies around those blockades was because I lost all my family in that damned war and I didn’t care if I lived or died.”