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Anora's Pride
by Kathleen Lawless
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Romance
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The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
www.thewildrosepress.com
Copyright ©
First published in 2012
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Praise for Kathleen Lawless
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
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Her hand was so small he feared the slightest pressure would crush it. Yet the way she slid her fingers into his signaled complete and total trust.
Lord, he didn't deserve her trust. Not when he'd used her and her husband to get at Rosco. Hell, it could even be his fault Ben King was dead.
“Thank you,” she said, her words so low he had to strain his ears to catch them. “I couldn't face being alone right now.”
“You're not alone.” She sounded so frail, so defenseless. In spite of himself he kicked off his boots and stretched out next to her, then shifted to gather her against him. He felt a tremor ripple through her, starting with her toes. Lord, the soft rise and fall of her chest against his, the sweet warmth of her breath bathing his face...
“This feels nice.” Her voice sounded hollow, as if it came from underwater or far away. “No one's ever held me like this before.”
No one?
Such an admission should have been enough to send him bolting once more for the door. Instead he smoothed a tangle of red-gold curls from her forehead, cupped her face between his callused palms and offered her the only comfort he was capable of, as his lips brushed the soft, dewy skin of her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, and finally her mouth.
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Praise for Kathleen Lawless
“Four stars!” ~Heartland Critiques
“CALLIE'S HONOR reminded me of the down-to-earth-heroines [of] Pamela Morsi.... Set in Oregon in the mid 1800s, it features a heroine who is trying to keep her ranch together and the drifter who has his own agenda.”
~Cathie Linz, Romantic Times
“[DELIVER ME] has it all—romance, action, mystery, and solid characters and plot. [The] tension between Jud and Maddy as well as the mystery surrounding Jud's innocence grabbed my attention and held on tight. And the nice twist at the end satisfied the mystery fan in me. All-in-all, I enjoyed this western romp and look forward to reading more by Kathleen Lawless.”
~Jen, Romancing the Book (4 Roses)
“I liked it way too much. Lol!...You wanna read something light, fluffy, short and sweet? Then get yourself a copy. I'm sure you'll like it just as much as I have.”
~Dee, ShamelessRomanceReviews (4 Stars)
“DELIVER ME was a fun, passionate, engaging whodunit with a strong, stubborn heroine. I was quickly drawn in....an interesting, worthwhile story.”
~Josie, Night Owl Reviews (4.5 Stars)
“A hero who steams into every woman's heart with his bad-boy-turned-hero machismo.”
~RT
“A fast-paced book that hooks the reader from the very first page. This book will find a place on your ‘keeper’ shelf.”
~Anne Black, RT (4 Stars “Excellent")
“This heart-warming Western adventure demonstrates convincingly that love is always a risk worth taking.”
~Romantic Times
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Anora's Pride
by
Kathleen Lawless
[Back to Table of Contents]
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Anora's Pride
COPYRIGHT (C) 2012 by Kathleen Shandley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History:
previously published by HarperPaperbacks,
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers, 1997
First Cactus Rose Edition, 2012
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-001-5
Published in the United States of America
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Dedication
To my daughter, Reyna,
for her endless support and enthusiasm
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter 1
The train was late.
Anora tapped her foot, aware that a larger crowd than usual had turned out to meet the 12:10 out of St. Louis. She noticed the Reverend Fish on hand, standing alongside the mayor of Boulder Springs. Neither of them had greeted the noon train before.
Penny skidded to a stop alongside Anora. Breathless from her run from the schoolhouse, between gasps she asked, “Am I too late?”
Anora smiled at her friend's unexpected arrival. “You're supposed to be at the school, aren't you?”
“I know,” Penny said in a loud whisper, tugging at her bonnet brim as if she were trying to hide. “I just couldn't resist running down to get a peek at the new marshal.”
“What new marshal?”
“Lord, girl, where you been? The whole town's been talking about nothing else for weeks.”
Just then the scream of the steam whistle was followed by the sight of the gleaming black locomotive gliding into the station. Anora automatically straightened her bonnet and pasted a smile on her face as she stood alongside her rickety wooden wheelbarrow full of cheesecloth-wrapped sandwiches and boxed lunches.
“I declare!” Penny grabbed her friend's arm and squeezed hard. “That must be him. I heard he was tall, dark, and very, very handsome. Not that you'd care. Being married and all. But as a single gal I—”
Anora shook off Penny's arm as the first flurry of customers approached. As she passed out sandwiches and collected coins, she tried unsuccessfully to tune out Penny's magpie chatter.
“The mayor's shaking his hand. So's the reverend.”
“ ‘Lo, Anora. I'll take six, today.”
“Hi, Butch.” Anora scooped six sandwiches from the wheelbarrow and exchanged them for precious money.
“Who's that?” Penny asked with an interested gleam in her eye as the yo
ung man hopped nimbly back on board.
“Butch.” Anora checked the station tower clock. Five minutes, tops, to sell the rest of her lunches.
“What's he do?”
“Rides the train. Sells peanuts and drinks and my sandwiches to the passengers.”
“Look!” Penny exclaimed.
Anora followed her friend's gaze to where a dark-haired man, dressed top-to-toe in black city clothes, stood head and shoulders above most of the people mingling around the station. His gaze was riveted on her in a way that made her skin flush.
At that second a woman dressed in an eye-catching red and black gown launched herself at the stranger, who scooped her up in his arms, swung her around, then set her back on her feet before he bent down to plant a lingering kiss on her painted lips.
Anora shifted her gaze. How dare the stranger watch her at the same time he kissed another woman?
“Gotta go!” Penny said. The train whistle sounded two short blasts, setting off a final brief flurry of activity, and Anora stared down at half a dozen unsold sandwiches. Maybe she could sell the rest in town. As she grasped the handles of her wheelbarrow and turned it around, she passed the dark-haired man, who didn't take any notice. He was busy talking to the stunning woman hanging on his arm. Richelle, the bordello queen whom Anora knew by reputation alone, was obviously no stranger to the new marshal.
Jesse found his interest piqued by the young woman who trudged past him and Ricki as if they were invisible. “Who's that, Ricki?”
“Where?”
“Little gal with the lunch wagon.”
Ricki pinched Jesse playfully on the arm. “Nice try, Casanova, except for you're barking up the wrong tree this time. Anora King lives over yonder with her husband.”
“Married, is she?”
“Wife to one sorry excuse for a man. And I've seen some real gems in my day.”
Jesse frowned. “She doesn't look married.” He'd caught the way the young woman had lowered her eyes as he kissed Ricki. A maidenly gesture if ever he'd seen one.
“Can't be much of a marriage,” Ricki said blithely. “Given that Ben King's lame and spends most of his nights in the Maverick.”
Jesse turned to meet her gaze. “That a fact?”
“As the town's new marshal, you'll no doubt be meeting Ben King in person real soon.”
“How long have the Kings lived in Boulder Springs?”
“Not long. Three, four months, maybe. Showed up after old Dan King drank hisself to death, claiming to be his kin. Moved into his shack on the edge of town.” Ricki shuddered. “I gotta hand it to the gal. Word is she's one hard worker. Got to be, I guess, saddled with a shiftless husband.”
Jesse laid an affectionate arm across Ricki's shoulders. “Have I told you yet how stunning you look?”
Ricki managed a fretful pout. “Not yet. And I had this frock made special.”
“You're more beautiful now than the day I first laid eyes on you.”
Ricki tapped his chest with her folded fan. “Twenty years ago. And even if you're too polite to remind me of time passing by, I do own a looking glass.”
Jesse laughed. “Twenty years. Has it really been that long?”
“You were the randiest fifteen-year-old boy I ever met. Even if your ma was my best friend.” Her voice dropped. “She never found out about us, did she?”
Jesse shook his head. “She died without suspecting a thing.”
Ricki blew out a breath. “That's good. Now, I've made arrangements for you to stay in the boardinghouse closest to your office, like you asked. Fetch your bag like a good boy and I'll walk down there with you.”
“Yes'm,” Jesse said with a mock salute. “While we walk you can fill me in about this gang of outlaws that's stirring folks up in these parts.”
“Don't you expect the mayor'd be the one doing that?”
“I'm willing to bet your sources are a sight more reliable than anyone else's in town.”
“I declare, Jesse Quantrill, you've gotten more cunning as you've grown.”
“Got to, if a body wants to stay alive.”
When Anora glanced over her shoulder she saw the new marshal and that woman locked in conversation, their heads near about touching. Observing the way he bent attentively over Richelle, Anora felt a momentary twinge of envy. Imagine having a man look at you as if you actually had something to say worth listening to, hanging on your every word that way. Even Ben, who at one time had minded what she said, went his own way now that they were established in Boulder Springs. She knew he was drinking more than was good for him, even if the liquor did help dull the pain of his childhood injury. She just had to get enough money to send him to those special doctors.
The door to the general store stood open and she stepped inside, out of the noonday sun. The blinds were half-drawn to help keep the interior cool. The store was crowded the way it tended to be after the train came through, on account of Lettie was also the town's postmistress. And just about the sweetest woman Anora had ever met.
Anora made her way through the cluttered shop, careful not to knock anything with her basket. The smell of freshly ground coffee and cinnamon wafted through the crowd as she approached the counter to purchase some rice and tea.
“Did you see him?” Lettie asked with a bawdy wink.
“See who?” Anora peered inside her money pouch, pretending she had no idea who Lettie meant.
“The new marshal. Jesse Quantrill. Came all the way from Philadelphia. Retired, he was, with a spotless reputation. This here town won't know what hit it.”
“I wonder what prompted him out of retirement,” she said innocently.
“Sweetcheeks, that ain't no secret. Him and Richelle are old, old friends.”
“I guess she won't be worried about him closing her down then,” Anora said.
Lettie shot her a sharp look, and Anora squirmed beneath that knowing gaze. “That don't sound like the gutsy young woman who marched in here, cocky as you please. The one who convinced me and Sam to let her have supplies on credit so's she could make up lunch packets for the train passengers. Didn't I hear you say a woman has a right and a responsibility to provide for herself the best way she knows how?”
Anora flushed. Lettie was right. Could it be she was jealous of the attention she'd seen the new marshal pay to Richelle?
“Richelle's just doing the same. Woman has a heart of gold under all that rouge and kohl she wears.” Deftly Lettie weighed out a scoop of rice and a handful of tea leaves, each of which she wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
“You're right,” Anora said quickly. “How much do I owe you?”
“You got any sandwiches left?” Lettie asked.
“Six,” Anora admitted.
Lettie held out her hand. “Let me have them.”
“Lettie, you don't have to.” Anora reached into her basket and passed over the foodstuffs reluctantly.
“Anyone says I do? More than likely some old boy will wander in later and buy them. If not, I'll just feed them to Sam for dinner tonight. It's too hot to cook, anyway.”
Anora dug into her money pouch. “I want to pay some on my account.” She passed Lettie a handful of coins, most of the money she'd taken in today.
Lettie looked Anora square in the eye. “Ben was in earlier. Bought some tobacco and some beef jerky and some other stuff. Put it on your account.”
Anora's heart grew heavy. Some days Ben acted as if money grew on trees here in Boulder Springs, running up her tab with Lettie faster than she could pay it off.
She returned Lettie's level look. “That's fine. I told you before. Whatever he needs, just put it on my account.”
“I heard you,” Lettie grumbled, picking up a rag and rubbing at an imaginary speck of grit on her spotless counter. After a surreptitious glance over her shoulder to where Sam was busy with several customers, she leaned toward Anora. “We both know who brings in the money. And who spends it. Just you say the word and—”
; “I won't hear of it,” Anora said briskly. “A man has needs.”
Lettie compressed her lips into a thin line, her look implying she thought she knew exactly what Ben needed, and it wasn't stocked in her store. “Mollycoddling ain't never turned no boy into a man.” Her look softened on Anora, and she changed the subject. “Penny down to the station checking out his nibs?”
Anora smiled as she gathered up her purchases. “Yes, she was there.”
Lettie shook her head. “I declare. That girl is just itching to get herself hitched. You might consider having a friendly word with her.”
Anora fumbled the rice. “Me? Have a talk with her? What about?”
“Marriage. You know. Woman to woman.” Anora blanched, wondering what her new friends would say if they were to learn the truth. “Why, I wouldn't know what to say.”
“Honey,” drawled a whiskey-smooth female voice from behind her. “You're the first woman I ever heard make such a claim. Ask any woman about being married and usually you can't shut her up.”
Anora spun around, purchases clutched to her chest, belatedly aware the store had grown unusually silent with the arrival of the infamous Richelle, new marshal in tow.
Seemingly unaware of the stir she was causing, Richelle addressed Lettie.
“Lettie, this here is Jesse Quantrill. The man who'll be putting a little law and order back into these parts.”
“ ‘Bout time someone did,” Lettie said. Raising her voice, she called, “Sam, get your sorry hide over here and say how-d'you-do to the new marshal.”
As Lettie's husband Sam approached, Anora tried unsuccessfully to sidle unnoticed past the gathering crowd. “Mrs. King,” Richelle said. “Don't go yet. Jesse was just saying he was a tad peckish. I expect one of your famous sandwiches'd hit the spot.”
Anora's tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried to point to Lettie, but the packet of tea slid from her grasp. When she bent down to pick it up, the marshal beat her to it and her head bumped into his as he straightened.
“Sorry,” Anora stammered, aware her face was redder than Richelle's gown.
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