by Linda Broday
“You bring one bad man. The others? You take many scalps, Mr. Brodie?”
“They caught some luck. I let them keep their hair.” His dry statements held a handful of remorse, thinking of Luther.
Ashes dangled from the tip of the cigarette. He looked about for a proper place to flick them. Giving up, he tapped them into the palm of his left hand.
“Good.” Nora paused at the door and pointed a finger at Murphy. “No more smoke. You eat or Nora go home.”
Murphy’s grin stretched. “You’d best unpack then. Suddenly I’m hungry enough to eat the blades off a windmill.”
A man would be deaf, dumb, and unconscious to miss the crackle in the air.
“I swear I just witnessed something,” Brodie dropped casually when the door shut. “What’s with you and Nora?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And I’m a three-legged, blind donkey.”
“I hoped you wouldn’t notice.” Murphy sighed. “When she touches me, it’s as if a branding iron sears my insides. I’ve never felt this way before that I recall.”
“Not even with Laurel?” His breath became glacial and harsh. Though she’d made it clear she wished no part of her former love, Brodie welcomed Murphy’s interest in Nora.
“Laurel’s different. She’s the one I’m marrying.”
Brodie wiped off a sick smile before it finished forming.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Expert Lady Killer.” He took his palm full of ashes and raised the window high enough to dust them onto the lawn.
“Let’s get back to your problems and leave my heart affairs alone.” A coughing spasm gripped Murphy and several minutes elapsed before he could continue. “Damn, I hate this.”
“Have patience. Getting blasted by an elephant cannon tends to hobble a man. You’re lucky to do the slow poke shuffle.”
“I can’t abide much more of this.” Murphy wiped his mouth.
Conversation drifted up the stairs. No mistaking the throaty caller.
“Laws a mercy. Shore is fine to see you, Miss James.”
“Likewise, Etta. Is Murphy awake?”
“For a fact. Get your sweet self right on up there.”
Laurel’s delicate features brought a heart full of misery and a kick smack in the middle of Brodie’s gut.
“Come here, Laurel my love. I need a kiss from my girl,” Murphy pleaded.
She hesitated, meeting Brodie’s quizzical stare. He turned quickly away, unable to bear the pain of their lips touching.
“You seem quite spirited today,” she remarked.
“Don’t know how you get that idea. Frankly, I’m upset. I dreamt you called off the wedding. Said you had no wish to marry me.” Murphy closed his eyes for a moment. “Tell me it’s nothing more than nonsense concocted by a figment of the mind. I don’t think I could bear it should—”
“Don’t get yourself in a dither over a dream, Murphy.”
“Thank God. We do have to decide the details, however.”
“What details?” Laurel’s dress rustled in a hasty retreat to the window, where she gazed out, keeping her back to the two men.
Brodie wondered what had unnerved her. Surely not his presence. She knew he’d visit Murph at the first opportunity. And he harbored no illusion the upcoming nuptials would not take place, given his blessing pretty much sealed that. Still, her behavior reflected guilt of some sort.
“How could you forget our wedding date barely a week off? Do we proceed with me laid up, or postpone until full recovery?”
A wild, cornered expression shone on her face when she slowly turned.
Brodie favored putting it off—like forever. Murphy’s directness flustered her even more, shown in the way she smoothed the quilt backward and forward.
“I believe we should discuss this in private.”
“My brother doesn’t mind. We’re family.”
“Just pretend I’m not here,” Brodie piped up dryly, receiving a glare for his effort. “Murph, I daresay Laurel will agree it depends on whether you prefer tying the knot lying or standing.”
“Exactly my point. Only a healthy man can do the marriage bed justice,” Murphy agreed.
“That settles it. See how simple that was? Whatever would you do without your big brother?” A bit of hope rose. A marriage put on hold could turn into one that would never occur.
Laurel’s mood seemed to lighten as well. “No need to rush. We have the rest of our lives. What’s a few more months?”
“Not a chance, my love. I won’t wait that long and give you a chance to back out. No sirree, two weeks from today, and that’s final, one way or another.”
The smattering of hope crashed around Brodie.
“Oh dear, look at the time.” Laurel raced for the door. “Folks will kick down the door to get to the feeding trough. Ollie must wonder what on earth kept me.”
Her footsteps padded on the stairs before Murphy spoke. “Where were we? Oh yes. What are you going to do with Blanchard?”
“A mighty good question. I’ll have to think on it.”
“I’ll wager you’ve a trick or two up your sleeve yet.”
Brodie scooped his hat off the end of the bed, pondering the advice. Magical feats hadn’t run in the family, unless a boy counted the swift departure of a father who left in the dead of night with a painted lady.
The same misbegotten ways Brodie shared with Samuel Yates, it would appear.
Suddenly he had one more thing to cross off the list before bedding down for the night over at the jail.
The comforting hiss of rattlers ignited purpose inside him. “One thing I know: I’ll make Vallens rue the day he rode into this damn town. If he’s come to find trouble, I won’t be shy about obliging him.”
Nineteen
The jingle announcing a customer drew an exasperated “spit and thunder” from under Laurel’s breath. With Murphy pressuring her about wedding plans, the long day had stolen her spirit.
“Sorry, we’re closed.” She swiped crumbs from the table into her hand before glancing up.
“I’m not here for that.”
The deep baritone unleashed a storm of flutters. Tiny droplets began to dampen the crevice between her breasts.
She might’ve laid blame on the warmth of his stare.
Assuredly, on the lopsided grin.
And most definitely, the lock of hair drooping onto his forehead bore responsibility for the flip-flop of her heart.
The quiet, gray-eyed rebel portrayed sleeping danger at best.
And at worst? Heaven help her.
“Ah, the new sheriff. I suspect you pay no social call.”
“Only came to…” He suddenly yanked the hat from his head. Dancing rattles fussed with the fury of a whole den of deadly vipers. “To check on things before I bed down. Noticed the lanterns still burning.”
“I have a cup of coffee left. Not exactly fresh though.”
“A fair enough offer.”
She led the way to the kitchen and thanked providence she’d brewed the last pot. Serving Ollie’s thick mud might get her shot for her trouble. Sitting opposite Brodie, she wished the butterflies in her stomach would light somewhere.
He didn’t want her, she reminded herself, clasping her hands tightly. He offered her to his brother free and clear.
“Would you care for something else?” What a dumb thing to ask. Having him mistake it for a proposition of some kind, especially the sordid variety, was exactly all she needed.
“Lil, I wish I was at liberty…”
Use of that name increased her vulnerability threefold.
Awkward silence stretched, yet he added nothing more.
“I meant pie, of course. I’m glad you’re back,” she finally ventured. “Although letting them rope you in
to the sheriff job surprised me. You were dead set against it.”
Brodie’s stare wrestled with hers. “A man can change his mind. I had my reasons.”
Blue blazes, it was as if he spoke in a foreign tongue. Nothing made any sense, and with each word she grew more confused than ever. What happened to his direct and to the point manner? “I expect Murphy’s rapid improvement brought you relief.”
“Nora has exceptional abilities. My brother is quite taken with her powers to bring him back from the brink of death.”
The lifted cup and lowered gaze effectively hid the expression she sought to read. She couldn’t ever recall him this guarded or mysterious.
Only irresistible.
Laurel rose to bank the fire in the wood stove to keep from doing something she’d regret. “Yes, we found Nora to be a godsend. By the time the good doctor finally arrived, the loop-legged man was in no shape to treat a sick cat, much less a human. I sent him packing.”
“You make it most difficult for a man, Lil.”
“Laurel,” she ground out. “Hard for you? You waltz in and tempt me to forget…make my dreams disappear fast as mist in moonlight.”
“How’ve you been…Laurel?” His brittle tone took her aback.
She didn’t reply until she emptied the ash chute into the galvanized pail. “Who exactly wants to know, the sheriff or you?”
“Let me have that.” He brushed her aside and took the pail before she realized he’d gotten up from his chair. “I’ll set it outside. Ollie says Zeke Vallens threatened you.”
He closed the back door and returned.
“The dear woman has many admirable qualities, but a closed mouth isn’t one of them.” The table hid Laurel’s trembles, yet she met his rebel grays unflinching. “Should I admit the truth, he scares the devil out of me. His evil-eye gives me the shakes. And refusing to say why he’s here keeps my nerves jumping. I’m almost positive he works for Will Taft. He’s playing some sort of game in which we have no say.”
Laurel kept Ollie’s confession to herself. She had to respect the secret. She would go to her grave before she told.
“Has Vallens hinted that?”
“In a sense, but nothing concrete. I resorted to desperate measures thinking two hundred dollars would provide incentive to leave. Hindsight shows a clear mistake on my part.”
Brodie’s fingertips traced the curve of her quivering lips ever so softly. She rested her face against the texture of his palm, wanting more than a touch, but somehow knowing it wouldn’t come. He’d never act on unbridled desire that made her pulse race, for he’d blessed her upcoming nuptials with Murphy. “What are we going to do?” The whisper bubbled from a well deep within her.
“About what?”
“Vallens. Bert Blanchard. The Union Army.” Then she added before losing courage, “And us.”
“I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on the vision of you in lavender and lace. I won’t deny it.”
“So much that you gave me to your brother? Strange way of showing it.”
Disappointment swept her that he didn’t refute it.
“Things change, notions and feelings a man most desires to hold on to fade over time.”
This confirmed she’d become nothing but a memory.
“The night in Murphy’s garden before you left—was it lust that made you hold me in your arms? Was it the needs of your body that made you kiss me breathless?”
“Just let it be. Why do females have to examine and pick apart every little thing?”
“I believe you answered my question. Now, if you don’t mind, Sheriff, it’s late.” Her knees wobbled when she pushed to her feet.
The muscles in Brodie’s jaw twitched. “Vallens lays one hand on you, he’ll be a dead man. Put that in your bonnet and smoke it.”
* * *
The midnight hour found Laurel sitting at the kitchen table when Ollie stole quietly in from the alley. The barely touched cup of tea in Laurel’s hands had long grown cold. She cradled the cup as if somehow never putting it down would magically change the past hour. The noise of the latch unglazed her eyes.
“Out sparking with Curley tonight?”
“Son of a blue belly, I swear you have divining powers.”
“It doesn’t take a fortune-teller to know when a woman is happy. No one but Curley can do that.”
“That man can sure start a fire in me, yes indeedy.”
“Guess that’s fine and dandy long as the gentleman stays around to put it out once he lights it.”
“What’s taken the starch from your sails, girl? You were in fine enough spirits when I left.”
Frustration disturbed the night’s quiet. “Brodie came by.”
“No need to say more. Nothing quite worse’n to leave a lady with a heap of embers sizzling and not nary an attempt to cool ’em with so much as a drop of water.”
Truth burrowed past the irritation and brought a flush. The warmth of his fingertips stayed on her lips.
“I hate to disappoint you, Miss Know-It-All b’Dam, but I have no embers, sizzling or otherwise.” Denial came easier than admitting Brodie had trampled tender feelings. His spurning stung her to the quick. She raised her chin a bit higher. “Not that it’s any of your affair. Furthermore, it appears a certain meddlesome woman, who I won’t name, told Brodie about Vallens and his threats.”
At least Ollie had the courtesy to appear sheepish.
“My grandpappy, bless his soul, always said that if a problem’s got its teeth in your privates and you ain’t big enough to shake it loose, find someone to help pry that mouth apart before it has you singing in the Jesus choir.” Ollie squinted through one eye while rummaging in her pocket, probably for that blasted pipe. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to give our new sheriff a full tally of the situation.”
“I would appreciate being consulted before you run to him with our problems.”
“You ain’t got me hoodwinked for a minute. That’s not the reason you got your tail feathers bunched up tight, is it?”
Laurel exploded. “Brodie should either lay out where we stand or get the hell out of my life. He gave some song and dance about regret and notions and feelings changing.”
Ollie finally located the pipe. She pinched some tobacco between finger and thumb, sticking it in the corncob bowl.
“Girl, I can see you’re on the warpath. Lord knows you have just cause. The man plain don’t know his own mind. One minute he’s hot, the next he’s cold. Something you gotta understand. He’s scared of horning in on his brother’s territory. I’ve seen it a thousand times.”
“I’m stuck in a lie in the middle of no man’s land which I can’t cross. But why does Brodie keep coming around? To jab me with a sharp stick? If he carried an ounce of regard you’d think he’d stay far away.”
Unless he took pleasure from watching her bleed.
“Because he cain’t help it, and it don’t do a lick of good to piss and moan about it.”
“Heaven forbid, is it too much to know why he’s bound and determined to relinquish everything to Murphy? And don’t I have a say in the matter?”
“Men like Brodie Yates develop lockjaw when it comes to discussing such.”
“No other has ever made my toes curl, my skin tingle, or given me reason to feel safe in my own bed.”
“Snatch that shootin’ star before it vanishes into the sunset. Look at this old fool standing before you. I could’ve had it, only I let it get away. Wished I hadn’t.”
Laurel dearly cried for courage to throw convention to the wind. How blessed to lie in the arms of the man she loved without dishonor or regret and not have him push her away.
And yet, would she grab hold if presented a chance?
The journey had taken so long. She’d never gotten this close to redeeming her tattered soul.
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To sacrifice it now?
Shameless desire scampered with naughty abandon.
Dear God, why did she have to choose between redemption and love with Brodie Yates?
* * *
“Sheriff Yates, yeah right.” Brodie punched the pillow. On his back in the darkness, he stared at the red glow of the cigarette and listened to Blanchard’s snores.
What in almighty had he gotten himself into? A wandering glance met with the piece of metal he’d unpinned and laid beside him. Wayward moonbeams through the window bounced off it.
He didn’t need the sparkle to remind him he’d messed up.
Men of his sort? They had no need for anything other than a fast hand and a moving target.
No ties.
No ladies who waited through long, dreary nights.
No Lil.
Maybe Murphy could develop a softness for Nora, then again maybe not. Brodie dare not bank on it. However it played, Lil deserved more. Of all the ones he’d come across, she alone held power to blot the nameless faces of men he’d sent to eternity.
The ropes beneath the feather mattress creaked when he shifted to finger the shiny object.
The badge’s raised lettering spoke of ties and a purpose for staying. Roots could grow if given half a shot and a speck of rain. Resentment didn’t rest so much in what the job represented, but the fact the little piece of tin stole freedom to leave when he chose.
Even as the wish formed, he knew he couldn’t ride on until he rid the town of Zeke Vallens. For Laurel. Keeping safe those he loved took priority no matter his own fate. He’d not returned to Redemption blindfolded.
Risk came with his decision. Risk he accepted in exchange for seeing Murphy and laying flowers on his mother’s grave.
But now that he’d done that?
This is what you’ve searched for over the whole country and half of Georgia. It’s the one place you can call home and know the full meaning of the word.
Damn the truth.
Smoke from the dangling cigarette probably caused sudden watering in his eyes.
Curse those roots that already burrowed beneath tender shoots.
When he ripped them from the fertile soil, it would make the god-awful pain gripping him now feel like a tiny pinprick.
