Texas Tender

by Leigh Greenwood

  Having reached the north end of town, Will crossed the street and turned south. It was actually rather nice to have something to do on his walk besides look at the stars or wonder if the clouds would bring rain. Back at the ranch there were no lights to compete with the star-filled sky, but light came from several sources along the main street of Dunmore. And the sound of people laughing, talking, even singing, drowned out all other sounds of the night.

  Not quite. Will heard a woman’s voice raised in alarm not far ahead. He couldn’t tell what she was saying, but it was clear she was frightened. He was reluctant to get involved with something that wasn’t his business, but he couldn’t ignore a woman in danger. He’d never be able to face Isabelle if he did.

  He wondered why no one responded to the girl’s distress. There were other men closer to her, but no one stopped. In fact, they seemed to make a point of looking the other way. That intrigued Will as well as angering him, and he picked up his pace. The sounds were coming from an alley between two large buildings that were dark and silent. Will turned into the alley to see that a man had backed a young girl up against a building. He wasn’t touching her, but it was clear he wouldn’t let her go.

  “All I want is a little kiss,” the man was saying. “You’re free enough with that Ellsworth boy.”

  If the rumor that Carl was sweet on Jordan McGloughlin’s daughter was true, then the girl must be Mara McGloughlin. She couldn’t be more than eighteen, and the man had to be over thirty.

  “Let me go,” the girl said.

  “Not until I get my kiss.”

  Will could tell from the man’s slurred words that he was drunk, or very nearly so, but that didn’t excuse his mistreating the girl. What Will didn’t understand was why a second man was standing only a few feet away and doing nothing.

  “One little kiss won’t hurt,” the man said.

  “Maybe not if the young lady wanted to kiss you,” Will said. “Since she clearly doesn’t, I think you ought to let her leave now.”

  All three people turned to stare at him, the two men in surprise, the girl with relief.

  “Get out of here,” the man growled.

  “I’ll be more than happy to leave as soon as you release Miss McGloughlin and allow her to go on her way.”

  “I said get out!” the man shouted.

  “I heard you,” Will said calmly as he moved closer. “I’m not deaf.”

  Mara tried to escape by slipping under the man’s arms, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her against him.

  “You really have to let her go now.” Will stopped just a few feet from the man. “This behavior is unacceptable.”

  “You talk like a damned dude,” the man said.

  “Thank you,” Will replied with a forced smile. “My mother wants me to act like a gentleman.” Will reached out to Mara. “Come with me. I’ll help you find your father.”

  The drunk man pushed the girl in the direction of the other man. “Hold her while I teach this fool not to mess with Newt Mandrin.”

  “I think you’re the fool for being too drunk to know it would be dangerous to trifle with the daughter of Jordan McGloughlin.”

  “I’m about to teach you what everybody, including Jordan, already knows,” Newt bellowed as he charged Will.

  Chapter Three

  Newt plunged forward, but Will sidestepped him and landed a fist to his jaw. Newt spun around as if to see if an unknown attacker had materialized, but Will hit him so hard in the throat, he was left gasping for breath. His body drained of all strength, he sank to his knees, his hands clawing at his spasming throat.

  “It would have been a lot easier if you’d just let Miss McGloughlin go on her way.” Will flexed his fist and grimaced.

  “Watch out!”

  Mara’s warning was unnecessary. Will had already relieved Newt of his gun and spun around. He aimed Newt’s gun at the other man’s belly before he could draw his gun.

  “Go ahead. I don’t know who you are, but I won’t mind ridding Dunmore of a piece of trash who did nothing while Newt assaulted Miss McGloughlin.”

  The man’s eyes blazed with fury, but his hand fell away from his gun.

  “He’s Isaiah Thomas,” Mara said, scorn dripping from her lips. “He hangs around with Newt because he’s too much of a coward to do anything without somebody to back him up.”

  “Not too much of a coward to pull a gun on a man he thinks is unarmed,” Will noted.

  The moment Newt had turned on Will, Mara had darted away from him. Instead of leaving the alley, she had stopped just a little behind Will.

  “Get out of here,” Will said to Isaiah. “If I have to look at your face a minute longer, I’ll drag you to jail with your friend.”

  “Newt will kill you for this,” Isaiah threatened. “He’s the fastest draw in three counties.”

  “I guess he’ll have to wait until he’s feeling a bit better to prove it.” Will grabbed Newt’s collar and jerked him to his feet. “Meanwhile, he can wait in jail. Now, if you’ll show me the way,” Will said to Mara, “I’d like to get shut of this piece of filth.”

  Weakened by his continuing struggle for breath, Newt didn’t resist when Will dragged him into the street and directed him toward the jail.

  “How’re you going to keep him in jail?” Isaiah asked. “Dunmore ain’t got no sheriff.”

  “Hang around and you’ll find out from the inside of a cell.” Will was relieved to see Isaiah fall back, then turn and walk away.

  Their little three-person procession attracted immediate attention, aided considerably by Mara’s telling everyone she met that Will had defended her from Newt and Isaiah simultaneously, having beaten Newt to a bloody pulp and scared Isaiah so badly he’d slunk off to hide in the night.

  “Newt is the fastest draw around,” one man said.

  “And the best fighter.”

  “Not anymore. Mister . . . you saved my life, and I don’t even know your name,” Mara exclaimed.

  “It’s Will Haskins, and I don’t think Newt meant to hurt you.”

  “You don’t know Newt,” Mara declared. “He’s mean as the devil. He killed the last sheriff.”

  “And a cowhand over in San Angelo in a bar fight over a woman,” a man added.

  “Well, he’s going to jail. Does this town still have a deputy?”

  “You’d better ask Andy Davis,” one man said. “I expect you’ll find him at the saloon.”

  “Lloyd Severns, too,” another voice added. “He owns the bank.”

  “My daddy, too,” Mara said.

  “Why don’t you people round them up and have them meet me at the jail.”

  Several men immediately headed off in different directions.

  “Anybody know their way around the jail?”

  “I do.” A short, tubby man stepped forward. “I’m Bud Fox. I clean the jail and feed the prisoners when we got any.”

  “Lead the way,” Will said. “I want to get rid of this man.”

  The news that a stranger had beaten Newt Mandrin in a fight and was taking him to jail spread through town faster than a plague of locusts. By the time Will reached the jailhouse, half the population of Dunmore was on the street—including every boy over six and under sixteen. Will ignored all requests to describe the fight until Mara’s description so far outstripped reality, he had to intervene.

  “Newt was so drunk he could hardly stand up,” he snapped. “One punch to the windpipe, and he was down for the count.”

  As brief as it was, that description excited the boys more than Mara’s more extravagant version. In seconds they were pantomiming hitting each other in the throat and falling on the ground, noisily gasping for breath. Will was relieved to reach the jail and be able to close the door on the crowd. Bud Fox retrieved the keys from the desk. Will propelled Newt into one of the two jail cells, and Bud locked the door behind him.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Will turned to see Andy Davis enter the jail
followed by a man he didn’t know.

  “I found Mr. Mandrin trying to force Miss Mc-Gloughlin to kiss him,” Will said before Mara could launch into what he was certain would be a version of the evening’s events with only tenuous connections to the truth. “He was drunk, so I thought it would be better if he sobered up in jail.”

  “He knocked him down with just two punches,” Mara informed the two men, her bright eyes looking at Will with utter adoration. “He drew his gun on Isaiah so fast I couldn’t see his hand move.”

  “That’s because I wasn’t wearing a gun,” Will explained. “I had to borrow Newt’s.”

  “You borrowed his gun to draw on Isaiah?” Andy asked in disbelief.

  “Actually, I took it,” Will said, “but he was in no condition to object.”

  “He was on the ground gasping for breath.” Mara dropped to her knees and gave a performance that equaled that of any of the boys outside.

  Will wondered if the extreme heat could account for the behavior of these people. All this excitement didn’t seem normal. Hell, any one of his brothers could have done what he did.

  Two more men entered. Before they could introduce themselves to Will, a tall, handsome man who appeared to be about fifty burst into the jail.

  “Daddy!” Mara cried and threw herself at him.

  Nobody made a move until Mara had finished sobbing and spinning a tale that made Will blush.

  “It really wasn’t that dangerous,” he insisted. “Newt is drunk. It didn’t take much—”

  “You saved my daughter from the shame of having that man touch her,” Jordan McGloughlin declared.

  “Isn’t he wonderful, Daddy?” Mara practically swooned, and Will started looking for a way out before things got too ridiculous.

  “I don’t know anybody else who’d have had the courage to tackle Newt and Isaiah at the same time,” Andy Davis said. “Newt’s killed two men. Everybody tries to stay out of his way.”

  “I’m Lloyd Severns,” said the man who’d entered with Andy Davis. “My wife told me how you stopped Van Sonnenberg from running down Pepper.”

  “He very neatly disposed of Van when Van tried to attack him from behind in the Swinging Door this morning,” Andy added.

  The three men looked at each other. “I think he’s the very man we need,” Lloyd said.

  Jordan and Andy agreed. All three men turned to Will.

  “We want to offer you the job of sheriff,” Andy said.

  Just the idea of his being sheriff of any town, regardless of how small, was absurd. His whole family would laugh themselves silly if they ever got wind of it. If he weren’t so shocked, he’d probably laugh, too.

  “That’s impossible,” he said.

  “Why?” Jordan McGloughlin asked. “You’ve already handled two of the most dangerous men in Dunmore.”

  “It was luck,” Will insisted. “Besides, I’m only here as long as it takes to buy the Ellsworths’ bull.”

  “We don’t need you to take the job permanently,” Lloyd said, “just while we look for a man we can hire full-time.”

  “I don’t like fighting,” Will protested. “I don’t wear a gun, and I like to sleep late.” Not that Isabelle would let him, but they didn’t need to know that.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Lloyd said. “We just need somebody to wear the badge.”

  “And be a target,” Will guessed.

  “Nobody’ll bother you once they hear how you handled Van and Newt on the same day.”

  “You’ve got to do it, Mr. Haskins,” Mara said. “You’re practically a hero.”

  Will choked. About the last thing he wanted to be—behind a husband and father—was a hero. It was an exhausting job. And any hothead looking to make a reputation would head straight in his direction. Luke Attmore always said he was more worried about crazy kids hunting a reputation than honest-to-goodness gunmen. Kids didn’t think they could die. Gunmen knew better.

  “I haven’t got time—” Will started to say.

  “We’ll get you a couple of deputies to do most of the work,” Andy said.

  “What have you got to do besides wait for Carl to find that bull?” Lloyd asked.

  “We just need someone behind the badge,” Mc-Gloughlin said. “You’ll hardly have to do anything.”

  Will was about to refuse point-blank when it occurred to him that as sheriff, he would have a legitimate reason to look into what had happened to Idalou’s bull. It didn’t seem like enough reason to do something as foolhardy as be sheriff of this half-crazy town, but he had felt guilty about not being able to help Idalou. He didn’t know why he should like such a prickly woman, but life was full of little mysteries.

  What else could account for the fact that he was even considering this crazy proposition?

  “Please,” Mara pleaded, looking up at Will with wide, imploring eyes. “All the other young ladies of Dunmore need someone to protect them just like you protected me.”

  Will had a nearly uncontrollable urge to tell this foolish girl she ought to spend a few months living with Drew so she could learn how a female with a backbone and a few grains of sense ought to act, but he figured she wouldn’t appreciate being told she was a silly twit.

  “I don’t imagine money is an issue for you,” Mc-Gloughlin said, “but after what you did for my daughter, I’d double your wages.”

  Any successful businessman knew money always mattered, but getting out of Dunmore with a whole skin mattered more. Still . . .

  “What would it take to convince you?” Lloyd asked.

  Will thought of how little he was looking forward to eating his meals at the unappetizing little restaurant in town and decided he could put up with a bit of danger as long as he had decent food. Isabelle was a tyrant, but she had turned into a fabulous cook.

  “Food,” Will said.

  “What?” three male voices asked in unison.

  “If you can arrange for somebody to provide me with three meals a day—cooked at home and served at a table with clean linens—I’ll be your sheriff until I buy the bull.”

  “You mean you want a table set up in the jail?” Andy asked.

  “I’ll be happy to eat with the family. I just don’t want to be poisoned before I can get out of here.”

  The men looked at each other. “Do you think we can do that?” Jordan asked.

  “After what he did for Pepper, Dorabelle would cook for him every day,” Lloyd said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we have women lining up to cook for him.”

  “Of course they will. He’s gorgeous,” Mara gushed.

  Sometimes Will got impatient with people’s reaction to his looks. After all, he could have been as evil as he was attractive, but occasionally his looks came in handy. Besides, with two deputies, he wouldn’t have much to do. Getting to meet a different family every time he sat down to eat might be an interesting way to pass the week.

  “Is it a deal?” Will asked.

  “It sure is,” Lloyd said. “And to prove it, you’re coming home with me for supper. Andy can arrange for breakfast tomorrow and Jordan for supper. By then we ought to have the rest of the week taken care of.”

  Will could practically hear Jake laughing at the mess he’d gotten himself into. At least he’d have something decent to eat. And as soon as he got a chance, he’d look into what had happened to Idalou’s bull.

  “My first act as sheriff will be to make it a rule that no young woman is to be out alone after dark,” he said, directing his remark to Mara. “There are too many drunks wandering around for that to be safe.”

  “I already have that rule,” McGloughlin said, giving his daughter a severe look.

  “Then I’ll leave it up to you to enforce it,” Will said.

  “Anything else?” Lloyd asked.

  “Yes. My stomach thinks my throat has been cut.”

  Lloyd laughed. “Come on. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late for supper.”

  Being sheriff had its advantages. Will had gotten up f
rom Dorabelle Severns’s table the previous evening feeling in charity with the world. A good wine and a stout brandy had topped off a very satisfying meal. Mrs. Davis’s breakfast this morning hadn’t been as spectacular, but he’d had to push back from the table while he was still able to stand. He seated himself at his desk, opened a drawer, and idly surveyed its contents. “How’s the prisoner this morning?” he asked Emmett, one of his two deputies.

  “Mad as hell and threatening to plant you in the ground next to our last sheriff.”

  “Since I have no desire to be planted in the ground, regardless of whom I’m next to, maybe we ought to let him spend a little more time in his cell.”

  “We never keep drunks longer than overnight.”

  “So?”

  “So there has to be some reason you want to keep him locked up.”

  “You think I’m afraid of him?”

  “Everybody else is. He’s the fastest draw in three counties.”

  “I keep hearing that,” Will said as he got to his feet. “I think I’d like to see for myself.”

  Emmett blanched. “You going to face him in a gunfight?”

  Will opened drawers in the desk until he found one with a pair of guns. “How else am I going to find out?”

  “It won’t do you no good iffen you’re dead.”

  “I don’t plan to die.” He checked each gun for bullets. Both were empty. He held up one to show Emmett. “I don’t plan to use bullets.”

  Emmett followed Will back to the jail cells, shaking his head as he went. Newt sprang to his feet.

  “Let me out,” he shouted. “I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  “I suppose you consider it perfectly okay to force an unwilling young woman to let you kiss her.”

  “I didn’t mean no harm,” Newt said.

  “I’m not interested in that just now,” Will said. “I want to see if you’re as fast as everybody thinks.”

  A calculating expression claimed Newt’s face. “How do you aim to prove that?”

  “I’ll give you a gun. On Emmett’s signal we’ll both draw. He decides which one is the fastest.”

  “The bullet will do that,” Newt said with a grin.