Her whole life, people had been turning their backs on her when she needed them—her father, her brother, even her own mother.
And James.
Lucas swallowed hard, opening his eyes. It was perhaps the sharpest irony of all that he’d started to see in Annie the goodness and generosity and caring he’d always attributed to James.
And come to believe that James had committed the sort of callous, cold, selfish act that Lucas had once believed Annie capable of.
He still wasn’t able to understand how James could have treated her so badly, a woman as soft and gentle as Annie. And their unborn child.
She deserved better.
Just as she deserved better than what a judge and jury would do to her back in Missouri.
Staring into the night sky, Lucas turned the question over and over in his mind, the one he had never had to ask in all his years as a federal marshal.
What was the right thing to do?
Chapter 16
“There comes a gal I used to know, swing her once and let her go! Swing your partner ’afore you trade, grab ’em back and promenade!”
Townsfolk wearing denim and homespun, work boots and sturdy leather shoes whooped and hollered as they danced to the raucous music of a fiddle, a banjo, and a squeeze-box accordion. Their feet thumped the floor planking hard enough to knock dust off the rafters and make bits of straw drift down from the hayloft overhead.
The grange hall had been decorated with evergreen boughs, garlands of cranberries, strings of popcorn. Angels and stars cut from pieces of tin glimmered in the light of oil lanterns hooked on every beam and cross-brace. A huge wreath hung on the front door, which kept opening to admit blasts of snow and icy wind, and yet another family that had braved the drifts to arrive by sleigh or on horseback.
The town’s annual Christmas dance, held on the third Saturday in December, was apparently the social event of the season. Lucas stood in an out-of-the-way corner, leaning back against the wall with his boots crossed at the ankle, his arms over his chest. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the festivities, staring silently out at the crowd.
“Sir?” Travis was standing next to him. “What do you think I should do?”
“About what?” Lucas asked absently.
“About Valentina,” the kid said with a hint of frustration. “Sir, ain’t you heard a word I been saying? I thought her pa might be willin’ to let me keep company with her, now that I’m a lawman and all, but he still don’t like me much. And Val says he’s been talkin’ about arrangin’ a marriage for her next summer, to some highfalutin’ feller out in California who don’t even know her.” Travis’s voice became bleak. “I known her since we was both tadpoles.”
Lucas rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He was the last man in Colorado who should be offering advice on how to deal with woman problems.
He still hadn’t found any answers to his own.
He’d been doing his damndest to avoid thinking about what was going to happen a few weeks from now when the passes cleared. What had to happen. Because it wasn’t in his power to change it.
Once they reached St. Charles, he would try to talk to the judge, make him understand the facts. Maybe his word offered on Annie’s behalf would be enough to protect her. Maybe he could...
He ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do. All he knew was that he had to keep Annie in custody until they returned to Missouri. But he wouldn’t abandon her, like everyone else in her life had done when she was in a desperate situation. She needed help.
She needed him.
“Marshal?”
Lucas glanced at his young deputy. “Sorry, kid.” He tried to think of something helpful to say. “Shouldn’t you, uh, talk to your pa about this?”
“Already did,” Travis said with a forlorn expression. “Pa says I should just stop tormentin’ myself over her, ’cause she’s gonna be leavin’ and there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.”
Lucas grimaced. “Sounds like good advice, Travis.” He shifted his attention back to the crowd.
It looked like most of the town’s population had turned out tonight—more than a hundred people, which meant there wasn’t even enough room for all of them to dance at the same time.
Everyone took turns on the floor, visiting with friends and neighbors in between, or carting their sleepy children off to doze in the hayloft overhead, where they were watched by giggling girls who weren’t quite old enough yet for dancing.
Men outnumbered women about four to one in Eminence, which made for some odd pairings of miners and farmers on the dance floor. A trio of grizzled prospectors played the music, while four others served up food and drink from laden tables at the back of the hall. The wizened old coot serving as the caller looked to be about seventy, but seemed to have been blessed with amazingly strong lungs.
“How will you swap, and how’ll you trade, this pretty gal for that old maid! Chase the possum, chase the ’coon, chase that pretty gal ’round the room!”
“But, Marshal, how am I s’posed to just forget Valentina?” Travis grumbled. “When she’s around, I can’t hardly see straight. Just lookin’ at her makes me feel all funny inside. And when she ain’t around, she’s all I think about. Can’t even sleep. Been pacin’ so much, my ma kicked me out of the house the other night.”
Lucas blinked, realizing that Travis had just described every one of the symptoms he himself had been suffering. “Maybe you should, uh, talk to Doc Holt. Might be some kind of... influenza or something going around town.”
“I ain’t sick, Marshal. I love her—”
“Evening to you, Marshal.” Morgan O’Donnell approached them, looking dapper in a fancy dark-green suit, his aristocratic drawl just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Haven’t seen you on the floor yet.”
Lucas greeted him with a nod, glad for an excuse to change the subject. “I’m here on duty. Making sure everything stays peaceful.”
“Ah, I do seem to recall this event ending in a drunken brawl one year, when some cad spiked the punch.” O’Donnell flashed a mischievous grin that brought out the dimples beside his mustache. “And what about you, young Travis?”
“Not much for dancing,” Travis said sullenly.
“On that, we are agreed.” O’Donnell settled against the wall beside Lucas. “My talents most definitely lie elsewhere.” He tipped his hat to a passing blonde, his grin widening. “Hoping I might get the opportunity to prove as much tonight.”
Lucas slanted him a look. All the single men in town complained that Eminence suffered from two problems: a lack of unmarried ladies, and Morgan O’Donnell.
Apparently, the gambler set his sights on just about every pretty, available female in town, and managed to charm many of them into forgetting that other men existed in Eminence.
And with Indigo and Ivy long gone, the town’s last bawdy house stood empty—and male tempers were getting noticeably shorter as winter wore on. Lucas had had to break up three fistfights in as many days this week. He was surprised guns hadn’t been drawn. Yet.
No question about it, women were trouble, he thought, his mouth curving downward, his gaze on the scuffed toes of his boots. It was damned unfair, the suffering that the female of the species could inflict, purely by walking around existing.
O’Donnell had his full attention on the crowd, or rather, the ladies in the crowd. “Married. Married. Too old. Spoken for. Hates me. Too... hmmm, yes, too young. Pity.”
“You three critters just gonna hold up the walls all night?”
Lucas glanced up as Rebecca Greer approached them on her way to the food tables, carrying a platter taken from some folks who had just arrived. “Start eatin’ at least,” she admonished as she breezed on past toward the back of the hall. “We got Injun pudding. We got sweet-potato casserole. We got raspberry punch.” She smiled at Lucas.
Lucas gave her a puzzled look as she bustled on by. Rebecca Greer had grown m
ore friendly toward him lately, and he wasn’t sure what accounted for the change.
He also wasn’t sure which he preferred: her previous hostility or this new, almost motherly mood.
As O’Donnell continued studying the crowd, he released a melancholy sigh. “I do wish Miss Ivy had stayed in town. Never thought I’d be glad for such a damned cold winter.”
Lucas had to agree with that. He’d taken up a new habit of long walks outside at night.
He was surprised he hadn’t run into Travis.
The three of them stood there in morose silence, watching the noisy festivities.
Then O’Donnell surreptitiously produced a flask from inside his silk vest, casting a sidelong look at the punch bowl, his grin reappearing.
“Try it,” Lucas drawled, “and I’ll have to arrest you.”
“You are no fun at all, Marshal.”
“So I’ve been told.”
They glanced toward the door as it opened again and another group came dashing in, mostly hidden beneath bonnets and woolen shawls and capes. Lucas recognized Annie among them, and his heart gave an odd, doubled beat.
He had a sworn duty to keep her in custody until they returned to Missouri... but no law said that he had to make her miserable all winter. So he’d been trying to make things a little easier for her, in small ways.
It had started when he’d relented and allowed her to have that Sunday card party. Which had somehow led to a weekly Sunday knitting bee in his jail.
And when she had mentioned that she wanted to join her friends tonight at the Christmas dance... hell, he hadn’t been able to say no to that, either.
Didn’t have to mean anything.
He just couldn’t see a reason to deny her a few simple things that would make her happy for a while. Especially when everything else he did caused her so much hurt.
He remained where he was, watching as she handed her coat and gloves to someone who came forward to take them, and shook the snow from her long hair. She looked around, talking with the ladies who accompanied her.
And then she saw him. Their eyes met across the crowded room.
Even from here, he could see the happiness shining in her expression. In her smile.
He nodded in acknowledgment and looked away, trying to resist the warm sensation unfurling through his chest.
“Ain’t that...” Travis glanced at Lucas in surprise. “Why, that’s Miss Sutton.”
“Yes, it is,” Lucas said curtly. “Didn’t see the harm in it.”
“Sir, you don’t have to explain to me. It is Christmastime.” Travis returned his gaze to the womenfolk. “That’s Val over there with her.” He released a besotted sigh. “And I don’t see Mr. Lazarillo nowheres. Do you think it would be all right if I—”
“Go.”
The kid didn’t ask twice. He made a beeline across the room.
“Ah, women,” O’Donnell said in an appreciative tone. “God love ’em.” He gave Lucas a curious look. “Should you ever wish to unburden your conscience, Marshal, about anything at all...”
“What’s that supposed to mean, O’Donnell?”
“Nothing, Marshal. Not a thing.” The younger man shrugged, grinning. “Please excuse me.” He tucked his flask into his vest, his attention on a plump redhead who had just walked past.
Lucas watched him go, his own gaze drawn back to Annie. She was chatting with Katja Gottfried, Valentina, and a few other ladies. They must have loaned her the outfit she wore: a chambray skirt that matched the dark color of the evergreen boughs, with a pair of western-style boots, and a white blouse that had long sleeves and ruffles at the high neck. Her hair had been swept back from her face in a simple style, woven with red and green ribbons that tangled through her long curls.
Lucas had to remind himself to blink, feeling it again—that strange tingling in his chest that kept hitting him every time he looked at her.
He also realized that he wasn’t the only man in the room who had noticed her. Several fellows had glanced her way—including a few who had been spending, in his opinion, too much time in the general store.
All at once, he felt a compelling urge to go over there and stand at her side, but he fought it. He might have decided to let her enjoy the dance with her friends, but he wasn’t about to share the evening with her himself. He didn’t intend to go near her. Lucas forced his gaze elsewhere.
The music changed as the dance-caller and squeezebox player took a rest, both moseying off to the back of the hall to wet their whistles. The fiddler and banjo player slowed things down a bit, striking up an old-fashioned waltz that had been popular during the war.
As the fiddler began playing the sentimental tune, most of the men in the crowd headed off toward the food tables.
Lucas watched Travis escorting Valentina onto the dance floor, and saw O’Donnell address the redhead he had followed, bowing gallantly.
But the girl shook her head, said something that made the gambler straighten with a jerk. A moment later, another fellow offered his hand, and she accepted.
Lucas almost winced for poor O’Donnell. Shot down clean, like a bottle off the back fence.
But before he had the chance to feel much sympathy for O’Donnell, he noticed three men converging on Annie—two of them glancing Lucas’s way somewhat nervously.
He glowered at them. One stopped, apparently reconsidered, and changed direction.
But the other two didn’t.
The idea of either of them touching her, holding her close...
Before he knew what he was doing, Lucas straightened and stepped away from the wall.
She was already flanked by them, talking with them, when he approached and cut the conversation short. “Evening, gentlemen.”
The two would-be dance partners fell silent. One man actually went a little pale.
Lucas realized that his greeting had come out as sharp and cold as a bullet from the .45 holstered on his hip.
“Good evening, Marshal,” Annie said hesitantly, her dark eyes uncertain, as if she were afraid that he might have changed his mind and decided to march her back to the jail.
Lucas glanced down at her. How did he always manage to say or do the wrong thing around Annie? He hadn’t meant to upset her. Hadn’t had a plan at all when he walked over here.
But he heard a question coming out of his mouth.
“Would you care to dance?”
“I...” She blinked up at him, looking startled. “I-I was just explaining to these two nice gentlemen that I only planned to spend some time with my...”
Before she could finish, he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor, away from the two nice gentlemen.
He could feel Annie tense, felt her fingers trembling in his when he drew her toward him and settled his other hand at her waist.
As their bodies touched for the first time in weeks, his pulse was suddenly too loud in his ears. It made a chaotic accompaniment to the slow, sweet music of the fiddle and banjo that filled the air around them. He eased her into the steps of the waltz.
“Thank you, Marshal, for... for letting me come here with my friends tonight.” She seemed a bit breathless, her voice wavering.
Lucas couldn’t summon a reply. He was too aware of her hand resting on his shoulder, the warmth of her palm through his shirt.
“Didn’t see the harm in it,” he managed to say at last, his voice strained even to his own ears.
God help him, for so long he hadn’t let himself touch her. Not like this. Not in a way that reminded him of how silky and warm her skin was. How perfectly she fit against him. How delicate and soft she felt in his arms.
Her lashes dusted her cheeks. “Still, it was kind of you,” she said quietly. “You’ve... you’ve been kind rather often lately.”
The notes of the music, full of the longing and loss of sweethearts parted by war, floated around them.
“Has anyone ever told you that...” She hesitated, still not meeting his gaze. “That despite bein
g impossible most of the time, and tough enough to chew nails and spit tacks, you sometimes have a... rather appealing gentle streak?”
“No,” he replied gruffly.
When she looked up at him again, he could see her eyes sparkle in the glow of the lanterns, in the light reflected from the glittering tin stars and angels. “Well, you do.”
That odd, warm feeling returned, right in the center of his chest.
“What?” Annie asked curiously as he stared at her in silence, his gaze moving over her face, her hair.
“Nothing. It’s... you... look nice.”
A blush colored her cheeks. “Thanks.” For the second time tonight, she smiled at him. Then she shook her head, as if struggling to understand him. “You are full of surprises, Marshal.”
Lucas continued moving her gently around the dance floor in time with the music, not even trying to explain to her what he couldn’t explain to himself. With the slightest pressure of his fingertips at her back, he drew her nearer.
Why shouldn’t he tell her she looked nice? Annie always looked beautiful, whether she was wearing ribbons in her hair or a plain woolen dress...
Or nothing at all.
Suddenly the memories flooded him, the images playing havoc with his heartbeat: the taste of her mouth, their mutual whispers of urgent need, the feel of her slender body arched beneath him, the husky sounds of her pleasure when he thrust deep inside her.
His desire must have shown in his face, because he felt her tremble. They looked into each other’s eyes as the fiddler played a long, tender solo. Her breathing had become shallow, unsteady, the color in her cheeks deepening—and her response to him only intensified the hunger already burning low in his belly.
But when the solo ended, the song ended. Everyone began leaving the dance floor. Lucas remained still for a moment as people milled around them, talking and laughing, seemingly part of some other world.
He did want to take Annie out of here right now and escort her back to the jail.
But not to lock her in her cell.
He clenched his jaw and forced himself to let her go, escorting her over to her friends with his hand at her elbow.
After Sundown Page 27
