Sullivan (The Rock Creek Six Book 2)

by Linda Winstead Jones

  Come tomorrow, she was going to lose him. A single tear fell into the stew.

  Chapter 8

  Sullivan pushed through the bat-wing doors of Rock Creek’s sole saloon, looking for a few minutes of peace and quiet. The place wasn’t quiet, not even at this time of the afternoon. At the moment he felt like he’d never know peace again.

  Cash gave him a condemning, sarcastic grin. “Well, well, if it isn’t the horny man with a death wish.”

  Sullivan saw no reason to argue. “I’m leaving in the morning,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as Cash. Could he really do it? Ride away and not look back? Hell, he had no choice.

  “I’ll believe it when I see you go,” Cash drawled, lighting a cigar and leaning back in his chair. “Tell me where you’ll be, and I’ll wire you when Miss Rourke leaves town and it’s safe for your return.”

  Sullivan sat at Cash’s table, ignoring the gnawing in his gut. He didn’t like the idea of never returning to Rock Creek. He had friends here, and the people pretty much accepted him for who he was. But...

  “She might not leave,” he said. “She intends to settle here, and I don’t think Eden changes her mind often or easily.”

  The change that came over Cash was so subtle, any other man might’ve missed it. His eyes darkened. The muscles in his neck tensed. The fingers of his free hand flexed, perhaps unconsciously, as if he were preparing to draw his six-shooter. “It isn’t right that you leave Rock Creek permanently because of her,” he said lowly. He narrowed his eyes and took a long drag on his cigar, obviously thinking hard. “She won’t stay,” he said with a long puff of smoke. “This place is too rough for her kind, too hard.”

  “She’s tougher than she looks.”

  “Not tough enough,” Cash murmured.

  Sullivan wondered if he could leave Eden, knowing that Daniel Cash would do his best to make sure she wouldn’t stay. What would he do? Hell, what wouldn’t he do?

  Nate wandered in, stopped a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light, and then headed for the table. He wasn’t falling-down drunk yet, but he would be before the day was over. He sat down beside Sullivan and ordered a bottle.

  When there was a battle to be fought and won they were different men, all three of them. Without a cause they were lost—Cash in his cards and women, Nate in his whiskey. And Sullivan... Hell, he went looking for fights that weren’t his, hiring out his gun and his talent for scouting because he didn’t know how to do anything else. And all the while he stayed as distant as possible from the people he worked for and with. Eden was right when she said he liked being alone. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him for anything other than his gun. He could almost wish for war again.

  “Sullivan here’s headed out of town in the morning,” Cash said, nodding to Nate.

  Nate settled tired eyes on Sullivan. “You just got back.”

  Cash, cigar in hand, leaned slightly over the table. “He has the poor sense to lust after Jed’s sister. Of all the women in Texas, why her?”

  “Leave it alone, Cash,” Sullivan said softly.

  “I will not leave it alone,” he responded crisply. “It distresses me to no end to see you dangling in the wind over a woman. Don’t you think she knows exactly what she’s doing to you? She knows damn well, and she’s loving every minute of it, let me tell you.”

  “Jed’s sister?” Nate said belatedly.

  “The blond virgin who’s been hanging around the hotel the last couple of days,” Cash snapped.

  The confusion fled from Nate’s face. “Oh, her. She’s attractive. Makes good soup, too. Talks too much, though. Smiles all the time. Jed’s sister?”

  Cash shook his head in dismay. “Yes, Jed’s baby sister. And Sullivan has been trifling with her.”

  Nate lifted not-quite-yet-drunk eyes to Sullivan. “That’s not terribly smart.”

  “Even a man who’s been pickled for the better part of the past eight years knows better than to...” Cash began.

  Sullivan rose. He wasn’t going to find peace and quiet here, not today.

  “Ethel!” Cash shouted, raising his hand in the air. The girl made her way quickly to the table, a smile on her face.

  “Afternoon, sugar,” she said, laying a hand on Cash’s shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

  Cash grinned, his eyes on Sullivan. “Let’s go upstairs and clean the tub, darlin’.” He gave the suggestion a decidedly lewd flair.

  “Whatever you say,” Ethel responded.

  The bat-wing doors swung open, and Sullivan turned his head to see Teddy and Millie standing there, holding hands and setting wide eyes on him.

  “Papa,” Millie said, her voice high with excitement, “Mama says come quick.” With that she turned and ran.

  Cash shook his head in dismay. “Jesus, Papa, you allow the younguns in this godforsaken place? What kind of a daddy are you?”

  Nate lifted his eyes to Sullivan and grimaced. “Okay, now I’m really confused. I think I need a drink.”

  Sullivan didn’t respond to either of them as he headed for the door.

  * * *

  She wouldn’t cry. She absolutely, positively would not cry. A single tear trailed down Eden’s cheek as she stared at the man on the bed. The afternoon sun streaked through the window and illuminated his pale face. His chest rose and fell as he took shallow breaths. His skin looked like brittle, white, wrinkled paper.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She lifted her head, so glad to see Sin standing in the open doorway her heart skipped a beat. “It’s Mr. McClure,” she whispered. “He’s doing worse this afternoon, much worse, and I don’t know what to do.”

  He shooed the children away, directing them to their room, and stepped inside to stand beside her and look down at the old man. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  Without thinking, she reached out and took Sin’s hand, holding on tight. “I thought I could make him better,” she whispered, “with tea and soup and clean sheets. I’m such an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sin said softly.

  Rico, passing in the hallway, did a double take and then stepped into the room. “What is this?”

  Mr. McClure coughed weakly and opened his eyes. “I’m dying, that’s what this is.”

  “Don’t say that,” Eden insisted. “You’re just having a bad day, that’s all. You’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”

  Rico stood at the foot of the bed and looked down. “Is there anything I can get for you, viejo?” he asked, a tinge of true kindness in his voice.

  Mr. McClure nodded. “You can get me the box that’s under the bed.”

  Rico dropped down and reached beneath the bed, coming up with a small wooden box, no more than a foot long and half again as wide and high. He offered it to Mr. McClure. “This is what you are looking for?”

  McClure waved a weak hand. “Open it for me.”

  Rico did as he was asked, and then he placed the open box on the bed beside the ill old man.

  “Miss Rourke,” Mr. McClure said, and then he met her eyes and she knew that he was telling the truth; he was dying. “Can I call you Eden?”

  “Of course you can,” she whispered.

  “Such a pretty name,” he said. “The Garden of Eden. Paradise. A fitting name for the woman who made my last days good ones.”

  Sin squeezed her hand, perhaps knowing that she needed comfort at that moment.

  “It has been my great pleasure to know you, Mr. McClure.”

  “Grady,” he said with a weak smile. “Call me Grady.”

  She tried to return his smile, but feared it was as weak and watery as his own. “Of course, Grady.”

  He reached into the box and came up with a sloppily folded piece of paper. “I want you to have this,” he said, offering it to her.

  “I don’t need...”

  “Take it,” he demanded. “You’ve made my last days on this earth the best ones I can remember in a very long time. You fed me go
od food, and made me mind my manners, and smiled at me like the angel you are.”

  Sin released her hand, and she took the paper Grady offered, unfolding it carefully to reveal that he had given her the deed to the hotel.

  “This hotel and everything in it is yours, Eden,” Grady said. “Everything...”

  “Oh, I can’t possibly...”

  Sin rested his hand on her shoulder as the old man insisted, again, that she take what he offered.

  “Raise those kiddies here, fix up the place, feed these boys well,” Grady whispered, unable to speak any louder. “Make this hotel a home. Please.”

  She could not refuse him, not now, not like this. “It would be my honor, Grady.”

  “I’ll rest better in heaven if I know you’re here.” With that, he closed his eyes and resumed his uneven breathing.

  She looked at the paper in her hands, the deed. A hotel! She’d planned to open some kind of business to support herself, but as she had enough cash from the sale of her stepfather’s business and home to support herself for a while, she hadn’t planned to make those arrangements any time soon.

  “I’ve only known him two days,” she whispered. “How can I accept this?”

  “How can you refuse?” Rico asked, his voice as low as hers. “It is what the old man wants.”

  She looked up at Sin, silently questioning him. “Rico’s right,” he said. “Grady wants you to have this place. It’s all he has to give, and he wants it to be yours.”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Grady thinks you do, and that’s all that matters.”

  Make it a home, he’d said. For her. For the children. And maybe for Sinclair Sullivan.

  * * *

  Grady died peacefully in the night, and arrangements were made for his funeral. Sullivan knew he couldn’t leave now, not today, not while Eden was grieving for the man she barely knew.

  She really thought she should’ve been able to save him, and felt as if she’d failed.

  He found her in the kitchen, baking pies as if her very life depended on it. A delicious odor filled the air, the aroma of sugar and cinnamon wafting through the hotel. Here, in this room, the smell was intense.

  When she saw him standing in the doorway, she lifted her head and pinned her eyes on him. “You’re still here,” she said softly. “I didn’t know...”

  “I thought I’d stay for the funeral,” he explained.

  She nodded and returned her attention to the pies she was fashioning, latticing crust across the top of what looked to be a dried apple pie. “What am I going to do with a hotel?” she asked. “Didn’t Grady have any family? Any relations who are entitled to his property?”

  “You don’t want it?” Hell, maybe she’d already decided not to stay in Rock Creek. Owning the hotel would tie her here, make it impossible for her to leave.

  “It’s not that,” she said softly. “I think the old place has quite a lot of potential.”

  Potential? It was a hulking, ugly monster of a building, and if Grady had ever made a profit off the place he hadn’t shown it. “Well, Grady never married, that I know of, and if he had any family he didn’t keep up with them. I think he was all alone.”

  Eden sniffled. “That’s so sad.”

  “It was what he wanted,” Sullivan said harshly.

  She turned her back on him, and with a folded towel removed two pies from the oven before setting the new pies in their place.

  “I should hate to live my life alone,” she said when she turned to face him.

  “I’m sure you won’t.”

  No, Eden wouldn’t live alone, not ever. Some smart man would snap her up, make her his wife, and they’d have a dozen kids. If she ever did find herself momentarily alone, she’d pick up a couple of strays, like Millie and Teddy.

  And him, Sullivan realized with a sudden bout of painful clarity.

  Damn, he was one of Eden Rourke’s strays.

  “I’m glad you’re staying for the funeral,” she said, stepping toward him. “Grady would appreciate it, I’m sure.”

  “Webberville can wait a day or two.” A knot formed in his throat as Eden drew near. She was going to kiss him, or lay those delicate fingers on his arm, or look at him with those big blue eyes, and he would be a goner. A stray! She’d picked him up off the side of the road because he’d needed saving. If he’d been healthy and safe she wouldn’t have looked at him twice.

  He trained his gaze over her head. Hell yes, she’d rescued him as surely as she had those kids. She’d sucked him in neat and easy as you please, with dimples and blue eyes and a kiss that shook him to his soul and made him do very stupid things.

  He should’ve seen the truth before this. He should’ve seen it from the beginning.

  When Eden was so close he could feel and smell her in the air around him, he turned on his heel and bit out a quick good-bye.

  * * *

  The funeral was well attended. It looked as if everyone in town came out to say good-bye to Grady McClure.

  Eden and the children stood together, but Sin seemed to make a point of standing as far away from her as possible. She would’ve liked to have him nearby, even if he didn’t speak, even if he didn’t outwardly comfort her. The way he looked at her, or more often didn’t look at her, it was as if he’d already left.

  The Reverend Clancy, a middle-aged man with lots of gray hair and a belly that attested to many good meals, delivered a graveside sermon that was full of hellfire and damnation. His words comforted her not at all. After the service was finished he made a point of telling her it wasn’t proper for her to be living in the hotel with those men, and then he consoled her since she was so obviously distressed—managing to rake his hand across her bottom in the process. She had just about convinced herself it was a simple mistake when he reached past her to pat Teddy on the head and brushed the side of her breast in the process. And his wife stood just a few feet away! What kind of a preacher was he? Not a very good one, sad to say.

  Most of the mourners went home after the graveside service, but several of Grady’s closest friends and the residents of the hotel returned to the hotel dining room for the big meal Eden had prepared: pot roast and vegetables, cornbread with sweet butter, and dried apple pie. Lydia was not in attendance. On hearing that Grady had left the hotel to Eden, she’d shaken her head in disgust and walked out. No one had seen her since.

  The schoolmaster, Mr. Reese, was in attendance with his wife, Mary, and their baby daughter. The Reeses were a lovely couple, handsome and happy even at this somber time. The way the teacher spoke to Sin and his friends, it was clear they knew one another well, which made her wonder if he also knew Jedidiah. Somehow she couldn’t imagine her brother and the refined schoolmaster as friends, but then, she was learning that not everyone in Rock Creek was exactly who they appeared to be.

  Mary Reese smiled sweetly as she bounced the baby and cooed and tried to eat a bite or two. Eden offered to take the baby for a moment and let the woman eat, since Mr. Reese and Sin had their heads together. Mary was reluctant at first, but then she handed the child to Eden.

  Eden sat in a vacant chair and gently bounced the baby on her knee. The baby said goo and smiled and reached for Eden’s nose, and suddenly everything was a little bit better. Not perfect, perhaps, not even wonderful. But better.

  “I’ve been meaning to stop by,” Mary said after taking a couple of bites. “I’m afraid between Georgia and James I barely have a free minute to socialize.”

  “James is Mr. Reese?”

  Mary smiled, a happy smile full of secrets. “Just Reese, most of the time.”

  Eden bounced Georgia on her knee. “I hope you’ll find an opportunity to come by one afternoon and get acquainted. I really haven’t met anyone but the residents of the hotel, though I did briefly meet the shopkeeper’s wife, Rose Sutton.” The harried woman had been trying to keep her twin boys in line and help three customers at once. “Bless her heart,” she added in a lowered voice. />
  “Poor Rose, she has her hands full,” Mary said. Mary looked Eden square in the eye, unflinching and honest. This was a woman she could like, Eden decided. She had a good face, open and real, without artifice. “I wish Jo was still here,” she said softly. “I miss her.”

  “Jo?”

  “Josephine Clancy,” Mary said in a lowered voice.

  Eden unconsciously wrinkled her nose.

  “Yes, the Reverend Clancy’s daughter, though I have to point out that Jo is nothing like her father. Thank goodness,” she added softly. “A few months ago the good reverend sent Jo to live with her aunt in Houston. That was right about the time he was married. For the third time,” she said with a lift of her eyebrows. “I miss Jo terribly,” she said, “but she’s surely better off with her aunt than she was here, living with that odious father of hers.”

  They were dancing very close to gossip, and Eden felt almost uplifted. She really could make a home here, if she had friends and confidants like Mary Reese.

  But before the conversation could turn truly juicy, the baby began to fidget. Georgia Reese wanted her mother.

  Too soon the Reeses left for home, and only rowdy men filled the dining room. They ate and drank and talked in low voices that grew louder as time passed. Eden was now the only female in attendance, and since she had no appetite she didn’t sit and try to eat. She walked around the dining room restlessly and made sure no one’s plate was ever empty.

  Again Sin was close by, but at the same time he kept his distance. He was never close enough to share a kind word, or maybe even hold her hand again. Of course he kept his distance. He was ready to leave, would probably ride away in the morning without so much as a glance back in her direction. She tried not to look at him, unless she had no choice.

  The men told colorful stories about Grady and the hotel, and gradually the somber mood turned almost jovial. Glasses of whiskey were raised in the deceased’s name, and by the time Eden carried the pies into the dining room, the gathering had the atmosphere of a party, not a funeral.