The Kansas Lawman's Proposal

by Carol Finch

  “You must have been hallucinating.”

  She made him smile. Lenora Havern couldn’t have made him smile if her very life depended on it. However, this mysterious but prickly female amused him, aroused him, and intrigued him—to the extreme.

  “You kissed me back last night. I remember.” His lips drifted over her high cheekbones, the curve of her jaw.

  “I felt sorry for you, was all.”

  “You should feel sorry for me now. I’m only slightly better this morning than I was last night,” he teased, then kissed her as gently as he knew how because he liked the taste of her, liked the feel of her shapely body brushing up against his, liked the scent of this enigmatic woman.

  He smiled when she finally began to respond to him. He hadn’t imagined that she had leaned into him, had opened her lips so he could drink deeply from the sweet nectar of her kiss last night. Now this he definitely remembered—vividly.

  Bad as he’d felt, after being beaten to a pulp, Rachel’s kisses had revived him. Now she was curing him with kisses. The only place he ached severely was the place where he was most a man—the place he had moved her hand to touch him intimately last night so she’d know she had set him on fire.

  The thought prompted him to loop his good arm around her waist and guide her curvaceous body against him. She felt incredibly good in his arms, on his lips, and he couldn’t make himself stop kissing her.

  The rustle of bushes captured his attention and he stepped back abruptly. He reached for the pistol Rachel had loaned him and tucked her protectively behind him. When Doc stepped into view, Nate relaxed.

  “I’ll pack up the supplies so we can hit the road,” Rachel volunteered as she retrieved her six-shooter from his hand, then scooped up the cooking utensils.

  She left without a backward glance.

  Doc halted beside Nate and glared pointedly at him. “If you hurt that girl you will answer to me.”

  Nate stared at the physician who was four inches shorter, forty pounds lighter and fifteen years older—give or take. “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “Good, because I can mix potions that can make you lose all interest in women, or concoct a sedative that will knock you off your feet. So don’t cross me or use Rachel for your selfish interests. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Doc nodded, satisfied. “Besides, you owe her your life.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Then become her bodyguard when we reach our next destination,” he insisted. “Men always stand six-deep around her during, and after, her performances. Ludy Anderson, our banjo player, is usually around to keep an eye on Rachel but he isn’t much use while he’s performing for the bystanders.”

  Nate frowned curiously. “Where is Ludy now?”

  “He likes to ride into town ahead of us to scout out a good place to set up shop and to entertain himself,” Doc explained, then raised his eyebrows.

  In other words, this Ludy person was a bit of a ladies’ man who enjoyed spreading around his traveling-salesman charm.

  Doc studied him consideringly through bloodshot eyes. “Do you have hidden talents you can use to perform for the folks who show up expecting to be entertained before I treat their ailments with legitimate medications?”

  “I can shoot a pistol.” Nate wiggled the fingers of his right hand but they were still stiff and sluggish. “Usually.”

  “Maybe you can earn your keep since you’ve been left penniless.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll do what I can to help out.” He smiled hopefully. “Could you extend an advance on my wages so I can buy suitable clothing and a firearm?”

  Doc dug into his pocket, then handed Nate several large bank notes.

  “I appreciate your generosity, Doc. I’ll pay you back as soon as I have a chance to wire my brother to send money and replacement clothing. Until then, I’ll make myself useful, even if I’m not feeling up to snuff…One more thing. Where is Rachel from?”

  Doc shrugged nonchalantly. “She didn’t say.”

  “And you didn’t bother to ask,” Nate presumed.

  Doc cocked his blond head and smiled slightly. “I didn’t ask where you were from or where you were going. I guess I’m suffering from a shameful lack of curiosity, aren’t I?”

  Nate studied Doc Grant for a long moment as he ambled toward the creek. He had spent years posing questions and solving mysteries while in law enforcement. It was only natural to dig beneath the surface to uncover all the facts.

  Yet he was being a hypocrite because he refused to volunteer the information that he was headed to Dodge City to find out why Edgar Havern and his silent partner—who was also Edgar’s father-in-law—had noticed a sharp reduction in the profits of their investment in the freight company the past eight months. Nate had agreed to assist Lenora’s father—despite his own father’s irritation. It was the very least he could do after he’d rejected the arranged marriage and beat a hasty retreat from Kansas City.

  Nate intended to hire on at the freight company so he could discreetly observe the business practices. Once he had resolved Edgar Havern’s problems, he planned to return to his federal duties in law enforcement. It was what he was good at, after all. He was not good at playing nice at elite social functions and allowing his father to dictate his life.

  One thing Nate knew for sure was that the women in his brother’s and father’s social circle couldn’t compare to the sassy, independent-minded female named Rachel who was harboring secrets of her own and tempting him without the slightest effort on her part. In fact, if Nate were the sensitive type, Rachel’s standoffish attitude toward him might hurt his feelings. Especially since women had been fawning over him recently because his family had scads of money they were all too eager to help him spend.

  Nate grinned wryly, wondering if the feisty Rachel Whoever-she-was would be nicer to him if he paid her. Probably not. She didn’t hold men in high esteem. Yet he recalled that for a few breathless moments, when she gave into the mutual attraction—one she refused to acknowledge—he thought she liked him just fine.

  He chuckled as he walked barefoot back to camp. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t bring up the erotic details of their encounter. She’d bite his head off.

  Chapter Four

  Muttering at the memory of her reckless abandon with Nate a few minutes earlier, Rachel crammed the utensils and cooking supplies into the knapsack. Then she toted them to the wagon and stashed them away. How could she have given in to forbidden pleasure with Nate the second time?

  Once was bad enough, but twice? Apparently, her self-control wasn’t as invincible as she thought it was.

  How could she have forgotten how much trouble men caused? They had abandoned her, betrayed her and attempted to use her for their lusty purposes while she moved from one occupation to the next to support herself. Knowing that, why had she become instantly attracted to an ex-lawman who was so bruised and swollen that she didn’t know if he were handsome or not?

  Isn’t that what lust was about? she asked herself. Pure physical attraction at its worst? For sure, all she knew about Nate was that he could kiss her deaf, blind and stupid, and leave her wishing for another glimpse of his incredibly masculine body.

  “You are insane,” she castigated herself as she stashed the knapsack in the covered wagon.

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  Nate’s deep baritone voice rolled over her. His silent approach startled her to such extremes that she nearly cartwheeled off her perch on the back of the wagon.

  “Stop doing that,” she snapped, uprighting herself.

  “Doing what?” He manufactured a stare of complete innocence, but she saw right through it.

  “Stop sneaking up on me, that’s what.” She bounded to the ground, then strode off to hitch the horses.

  “Doc specifically requested that I keep an eye on you.”

  She halted, glanced back at his ill-fitting clothes and bootless feet, then smirked. “How can you k
eep an eye on me when both of your eyes are all but swollen shut and you can barely see where you’re going? Anyway, I can take care of myself, thank you so very much.”

  “I’m trying to be nice to you,” he called after her.

  She grabbed the ropes, then led the horses to the wagon. “I’m not worth the effort because I don’t plan to be nice back.”

  “Why?”

  “Go away. You’re bothering me.”

  “I bother you? Interesting.”

  Yes, he did, damn it. More than any man she had ever encountered. But Nate Montgomery would only be around until he was well enough to strike off on his own. He was headed to the very last place on earth that Rachel wanted to go after the Adolph Turner fiasco. In addition, there were a dozen sensible reasons why becoming attached to Nate was a bad idea.

  Refusing to rise to his baiting, Rachel clamped her lips shut, then hitched up the horses. Then she checked to ensure the reins and harnesses were in proper working order. All the while, she ignored Nate as if he wasn’t there. Nonetheless, she could feel his intense gaze boring into her and she wondered if he was remembering their passionate embrace beside the creek. She certainly was.

  The thought burned her cheeks and scorched her blood. Willfully she stifled the memory of his all-too-familiar touch, then strode down the path to the creek.

  “Doc! We are ready to roll. Are you coming?”

  Looking somewhat refreshed and revived, Doc Grant ambled up the path. “Thanks for taking care of things.”

  “That’s what you’re paying me to do. The nagging is free of charge.”

  “I told you. Do not start with me.” Doc hitched his thumb toward Nate who was struggling to pull himself onto the wagon seat. “Take out your bad disposition on him.”

  “I already did.”

  Rachel climbed into the back of the wagon and left the men to themselves. She snuggled down on a pallet, determined to catch up on lost sleep after waking up at regular intervals the previous night to make sure Nate remained among the living, no thanks to her.

  The first order of business when Nate climbed gingerly from the wagon in the small town of Crossville was to outfit himself in clothing and boots that fit properly. Thanks to Doc’s generosity, Nate felt a little better about himself.

  By the time he ambled from the dry-goods store, Doc and Rachel had set up shop. The medicine-show production was nothing like the usual ones Nate had seen before. The dimple-cheeked, frizzy-haired banjo player named Ludy Anderson, who had ridden into town the previous evening, showed up with a wide smile on his face and began his musical act.

  There was no question in Nate’s mind about how Ludy had whiled away his hours the previous evening—and perhaps this morning, too. He had the look of a well-satisfied male.

  Nate appraised the musician, who flashed another winsome grin while he played his banjo. Several women cast him flirtatious glances and Ludy soaked up the feminine attention. He winked rakishly at them as he played a fast-tempo tune, drawing the interest and attention of passersby on the street.

  To Nate’s stunned amazement, Rachel appeared from a nearby alley, dressed in the full regalia of an Indian princess. Her dark hair lay in braids that cascaded over her breasts. Her fringed and beaded buckskin dress and moccasins appeared to have been custom-made to fit her. She captivated the audience with her beauty and fascinated them when she spoke of ancient Cheyenne legends.

  Nate hadn’t acquired an appreciation for Indian tribes because of his stint in the army. He had seen the worst that Indians and whites could do to one another in ongoing battles over possession of land and the outrage of broken treaties.

  However, Rachel’s mystical presentation made him realize the Cheyenne tribe had a strong spiritual connection to the sacred sites and hunting grounds they fought to protect from white invasion. It also made Nate wonder how Rachel knew so much about the Cheyenne culture. Where she had picked up the ability to speak their native tongue and convey the Indian version of creation.

  When Rachel finished her spellbinding presentation, she bowed humbly while the crowd applauded. Then, with knapsack in hand, she strode toward the alley beside the dry-goods store. Nate followed her to block the path, making certain no one invaded her privacy.

  Ludy Anderson struck up several lighthearted tunes to entertain the crowd while she was gone.

  To Nate’s relief no one followed Rachel. Since he looked and felt like hammered hell, he doubted he could intimidate anyone who decided to hassle her. If he had to back up his terse commands he’d likely end up in a world of hurt again.

  His male pride was already smarting after his confrontation with the ruffians.

  A few minutes later Doc appeared beside the wagon to address the crowd. Rachel joined him, dressed in a modest gown that was covered by a white apron. Doc didn’t give the anticipated sales pitch about the never-fail cure-alls and nostrums stored in his wagon. Instead, he told onlookers the same thing he’d told Nate the previous night. He assured the audience that the so-called patented medicines sold by charlatan doctors were worthless.

  “Don’t be fooled by these fifty-proof elixirs,” Doc declared as he held up a bottle that was labeled Wizard Oil. “Nothing replaces a certified doctor. The next time a medicine show pulls into town, enjoy the entertainment, take it for what it is and save your hard-earned money.”

  Nate smiled to himself, pretty sure Doc’s honesty would drive shysters out of business eventually. He did seem to be on a one-man crusade to change misconceptions about patented medicines.

  Then Doc asked if anyone in the crowd suffered sprains, broken bones, stomach ailments and such. While several more patients lined up for examinations by Doc and his lovely assistant, Ludy strolled up beside Nate.

  “Don’t know why Doc doesn’t put down roots and reopen his private practice,” Ludy remarked as he set aside his banjo.

  Because Doc, like Rachel, was running from something, Nate speculated.

  An hour later Rachel walked off to change clothes again, while Doc gave another spiel about proper treatment of ailments and the evils of wonder tonics.

  Ludy inclined his frizzy brown head toward the alley where Rachel appeared in a stunning bright yellow gown. It was as if the sun had appeared from behind a bank of gloomy clouds. Conversation fizzled out as she took her place in front of the medicine-show logo on the side of the wagon—the backdrop that served as a makeshift stage.

  Mesmerized, Nate stared at the Indian princess turned dignified lady. She had piled her dark hair atop her head, displaying her swanlike neck and the elegant line of her jaw. The neckline of the silk gown displayed the fullness of her breasts. The tapered waistline emphasized her enticing figure to its best advantage.

  Nate did a double take when she smiled serenely. Was this the same spirited female he’d met on the creek bank the previous night? He was beginning to think Rachel was a chameleon who could portray several roles, as if she had been born to each and every one of them. Apparently, she was a woman of diversified talents.

  “I don’t know where Doc found this gem of a woman, but wait until you hear this,” Ludy said as he strummed a cord on his banjo, then sauntered up beside Rachel.

  When she began to sing a hauntingly tender ballad Nate stood there, stunned to the bone. Her voice was amazing and the transformation from feisty tomboy to Indian princess to physician’s assistant to alluring songstress was astonishing.

  Nate swore his mouth had dropped open wide enough for a pigeon to roost. He wasn’t the only one mesmerized by her clear voice. It made him even more curious about her secretive past. If Rachel hadn’t traveled with a musical troupe or appeared in theater, she should have. She had talent galore.

  People poured from the doors of shops and saloons to listen to her sing and to admire her stunning beauty. The crowd tripled in size by the time she began her second song.

  “I heard a little girl with a voice that big sing once,” said a grizzled older man who stood off to Nate’s left.
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  “Where and when was that?” he was compelled to ask.

  “Colorado mining town nearly a decade ago,” the man recalled. “Wonder if these two are related.”

  Nate wondered if it was the same woman grown up.

  When she concluded her last song, a roar of applause filled Main Street. This time, when she walked away to change clothes, a passel of young men trailed behind her, tossing out propositions that she ignored. Nate hurried to catch up, despite the excessive strain on his bruised muscles and ribs.

  “Go listen to what Doc has to say and leave the lady alone,” Nate commanded as he stationed himself in front of the alley.

  A young, cocky buck with straight brown hair, a long nose and protruding chin smirked as he looked Nate up and down. “You think you’re gonna stop us from seeing the lady?”

  “Yep,” he confirmed with more confidence than he felt.

  “In your banged-up condition?” Another strutting cock of the walk with a square face and oversize ears scoffed disrespectfully.

  Nate had faced down hardened outlaws, but never when he looked like a human punching bag. He’d known a confrontation would be difficult, given his appearance and the fact that he hadn’t had time to replace his six-shooters. But working as Rachel’s bodyguard paid for his clothing, room and board while he traveled with the medicine show. He bided his time until he could contact his brother to send money and clothing to the freight office in Dodge City. Besides, Nate felt oddly protective of Rachel, who had likely saved his life. He would have confronted this drooling crowd of men for free.

  “Need this?” Rachel appeared behind him, still wearing her sunshine-yellow gown. She discreetly stashed her pistol in the back waistband of his breeches.

  “Yeah, thanks. I don’t seem to be a believable threat.”

  “You scare me, if that helps,” she teased playfully.

  Nate was ashamed to admit that he showed off like a teenager while Rachel watched. He grabbed the weapon and shot the hats off the two young men who harassed him. Then, for dramatic effect, he blew on the smoking barrel of the pistol.