by Linda Broday
“Mince pie?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled like fool’s gold.
Thank goodness. He was the only man in the county who could be bought and sold with a piece of pie.
Not chattering like a magpie for once, Patience and her new friend Josie walked beside Glory.
Though she didn’t dare glance back, she suspected Luke wore a relieved look. She’d hide his secret. The least she could do for a perfect stranger whose sinfully divine kisses gave her pause to consider certain advantages of wanton behavior.
In fact, she was so eagerly engaged in contemplating the unlikely that a light touch took her by surprise. Patience had slid her fingers inside Glory’s. Her inquiring gaze met a happy smile. Warm affection sneaked past and over the wall. The squirt did have a lovable side. Glory returned the light squeeze. Maybe her sister didn’t mean to get on her nerves.
“All right, Glory, what’s this I hear about you shootin’ McClain? Sounds like a juicy tale to me.” Charlie’s pointed squint made her fidget.
“She—” Patience began, only to be squelched by a hand over her mouth. “Ow. You’re mean.” She jerked away. “Come on, Josie. I’m gonna tell.”
With a stab of remorse, Glory watched the two girls run in her mother’s direction.
“Now, what was that about?”
“Nothing, Charlie. You know Patience.”
“She claims you shot McClain. Come clean.”
“Again, a dead-end trail.” Innocently, she jiggled her hooked fish. “Mince is the only thing that nose of yours smells.”
He glared. “But after the pie, I’m gonna insist on a few straight answers.”
The dark smudge across his cheek was too tempting. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped off the ink.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Charlie Gimble.”
For good measure, she rubbed her own face. Just in case.
* * *
Luke found himself staring after Glory and company. That she wiggled in the most interesting way didn’t escape his notice. Everything about the eldest Day sister appealed to him.
Take how she wrapped Gimble around her little finger. The man never stood a chance.
Speaking of which, he pondered the likelihood of wrapping her in his arms and charming away the wrinkles that marred her smooth forehead. The faint smell of honeysuckle still wafted in the air, a haunting reminder of her presence.
As if he needed his memory refreshed. Ever since he first met her, he only had to close his eyes to sketch every detail of her face.
Yep, every last indentation and freckle.
Were things different…
But he couldn’t change the events.
Or the fact that he’d done nothing to deserve her loyalty. Since Glory had opened up her family’s home to him, he’d heaped more problems on her. That she protected his ego… Well, he could never repay that. One word would’ve hammered the last nail in his pride. Whoever framed him had knocked him to his knees.
Resolve tightened in his chest. He stared hard down the wagon-rutted street. No one would ever do that to him again.
Damn if they’d steal his right to defend himself.
Footsteps approached. He recognized George Simon by the rank odor.
“Shore is a mighty fine-looking woman.”
He fought the urge to warn the blacksmith to keep his eyes on his horses’ rumps and quit admiring the shape of Glory’s backside.
“Got an undertaker in this town?”
“Cap Bailey. He’s the town barber, dentist, undertaker, and spittoon cleaner.”
“Know where I can find him?”
“Reckon he and the missus is down at the church.”
That figured. Half the whole darn town was.
Rather than shock the ladies’ sensibilities by carrying a dead body into their midst, he’d best bring Bailey back to the stables. Without another word to Simon, he strode toward the noisy gathering.
A quick glance located the Day family. He fully meant to avoid their spread, since the nosy editor had plopped down in the middle of the damask tablecloth, ink and all. But the sight of Glory standing apart with a stranger changed his course. The man held her hand much too boldly for his taste. Besides, he had no idea what this Bailey fellow looked like. More the reason to interrupt.
“Miss Glory, may I have a moment?” He gave the stranger the same frown he reserved for outlaws, horse thieves, and ones he most took exception to.
She jerked back her hand, breaking the conversation in midsentence. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to resume this later.”
Over Luke’s dead body, she would. The stranger clearly encroached where he wasn’t wanted. And Luke didn’t like the blush on her cheeks one bit either.
“Mr. McClain, how nice of you to join us. Meet Santa Anna’s newest, Dr. Ted Dalton.”
He grudgingly gave the man’s outstretched hand a mere brush. “Welcome to the community. Perchance is there a Mrs. Dalton?”
“Luke, how rude!”
Dr. Dalton chuckled. “Afraid I haven’t been that lucky.”
Luke bit back a curse. How could he match up against a man of learning? He watched the competitor tip his hat in Glory’s direction. Why it galled him he couldn’t say.
Maybe because she deserved the best, which might not include a nobody, but it also left out dandies too.
“Miss Day, drop by my office the next time you’re in town and we’ll see about…er, that matter we were discussing.”
Glory’s small hand on his arm prevented him from blurting out what the doctor could do with his offers.
“What was it you wanted, McClain?”
He didn’t speak until they were well out of range. “May I inquire as to the nature of your business with that man?”
“You may not! It’s private.”
“Just asking. No need to get persnickety.”
“What is so urgent that you’d risk another run-in with Charlie?”
Her nearness banished all thoughts from his head. He wanted to remember nothing except her lips and the rare occasion of a bright smile.
“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered.
“Oh, uh…the blacksmith told me I’d find the undertaker over here. I don’t know him from Adam.”
“Cap Bailey is with his family near the church steps. You don’t think it can wait?”
“It’s better to get this distasteful business over with.”
“I suppose.” Doubts hid beneath her tone. “I have to get back to the rest now. Can we talk about this later?”
“Depends on your idea of later.” He hated to break this piece of news, but had no choice. “I’m leaving at first light.”
Her brow wrinkled in surprise. “You’re coming back though?”
Mere folly to take the question at more than face value. Other than making her mad enough to eat tacks when he left her behind, Glory had shown little interest. And only then because she’d needed his help to solve her problem—something a nobody was good at.
Disappointment lodged inside, making sure he didn’t forget.
With Perkins dead, it suddenly occurred to him that he had nothing left to bargain with. No proposition, no arrangement.
Movement a few yards away caught his notice. The good Dr. Dalton smiled and eyed them from the blanket on which he’d settled.
Luke’s gut twisted.
“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He forced a light tone, trying to ignore the avalanche the pieces of his heart created. “Can I ask a favor? Keep my leaving under your hat.”
Thirteen
Later ended up being right after supper, to which Luke had wrangled an invitation. That Glory didn’t deny his request for a walk afterward tied his tongue in knots. The dying twilight created its own brand of magic in her beautiful features.<
br />
“I’m going to miss Hope’s cooking,” he managed weakly.
“Does your leaving have anything to do with the people who might’ve framed you?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t for certain reasons.”
“You said you’d be back though?”
“Would it make any difference?” Luke watched her closely. Dare he construe the slight pause, as if breathing had become a command rather than a reflex, as proof?
“Just asking. No reason.”
This bouncing-ball exchange appeared to have more of a dodging nature. He wished for courage to ask the direction of her desires. Except he couldn’t bear spoken aloud what he already knew. She didn’t desire him in the same way he desired her. And should he not return? His heart pounded, protesting the thought of never seeing her again.
He propped his boot heel on the fence rail and stared up at the North Star. He’d found his, but notwithstanding some miracle, he couldn’t tell her so. She didn’t feel that way about him—and he had nothing to offer her.
“I delivered Perkins’s remains to Bailey. He asked more questions than your newspaper friend.”
“Folks are bound to wonder. Can’t fault them for that.”
“I can when they base the opinions they’ve already formed about me on mere speculation.”
“Human nature, I suppose.” She grew pensive. “Hanging must be a terrible way to die.”
“I’ve seen plenty enough to know I never want to find out firsthand.” Including some near rope parties in his sister-in-law’s case. Duel’s appearance that night saved him from having to put some lead into half the town of El Paso—at least the part intending to lynch Jessie.
Glory lifted Miss Minnie, stroking the soft fur. “I sometimes think about what happens when a body reaches the end of his life.”
Did she refer to herself or her father? It frustrated the hell out of him that he couldn’t make all her worries disappear. At least he had it in his power to help with one small thing after tonight. The sacrifice would end everything. So be it.
“Do you ever give any thought to what you’d want as an epitaph, Glory?” Saying the name that occupied his waking moments more and more gave him pleasure. If she noticed he’d started dropping the “miss” of late, she hadn’t objected.
“Hell’s bells! What a morbid subject!”
“I take that as a no.” He settled his shoulder against hers, enjoying the intimate touch. “Don’t tell me you haven’t at least considered death when you’re lying in bed at night with nothing but the sound of your own breathing for company.”
“My day is filled with too much work to waste with idle thoughts.”
“But what about the nights?” He let his tone drop to a bare whisper. “Are they filled as well?”
She tensed and Luke kicked himself. That was something no gentleman should ask a lady. An apology formed in his mind, but never reached his lips. Glory jerked away and kicked a clump of dead grass with her toe. The rising full moon behind framed her livid features.
Her angry words were clipped. “She lived. She died. End of story. That’s all.”
Despite knowing trouble when he saw it, he pressed. “You don’t expect anyone to care, do you? Or is it you’re too afraid to find out there’s more?”
The tremble of her chin sent jolting pain through him. He wanted to hold her in his arms and prove life held passion and happiness and time for laughing. Ha, such boldness for a man who could offer nothing other than wispy daydreams. He couldn’t even bring Perkins in alive.
He leaned forward and clasped his hands together to keep from reaching for her. “This is what I want—Here lies Luke McClain, he was one hell of a lawman. He fought injustice and crime wherever he found it. He gave generously of himself to make the world a safer place. He lived well and loved hard. He will be missed.”
“My stars, Luke! A tombstone only has so much room. You can’t write a darn book.”
That didn’t matter a hoot to him. He had her smiling again. Did she realize what she’d said? He liked the sound of “Luke” on her lips.
“It is a little long-winded, isn’t it? How about just the ‘lived well, loved hard, and will be missed’ part?”
She shrugged. “Don’t make any difference to me. It’s your epitaph.”
Her brusque tone didn’t fool him. He began to suspect a thing or two about Miss Glory Day.
“You won’t miss me even a bit?”
“Oh my goodness, look how late it’s getting. I’d better go in before—”
“Wait.” His plea stopped her. “Please, a minute longer?”
“Make it quick, McClain.” She turned to face him.
“Do you have a problem seeing?” he blurted.
The sharp intake of breath told Luke he’d hit a sore spot.
Her voice was tight. “I would think a fellow in your shoes would keep his nose from where it didn’t belong.”
Luke grinned. “Actually, I’m not as curious as my sister. Victoria can ask more questions than anyone I know. And then there’s Bart, a good friend down El Paso way. He’s a regular—”
“It isn’t any of your business if I am…which I’m not!” she spat.
“Mind if I see for myself? Bet you can’t nick that chopping block over there.”
“I can too.” She accepted his Colt, tested the weight, took aim, fired.
And missed.
Luke lifted an eyebrow. The unfamiliar fear fanning out in his chest was different from the way he had felt when he had to arrest Jessie for murdering Jeremiah Foltry. In what manner he couldn’t tell. Though he’d watched Glory stumble on occasion and have trouble reading, he laid it to a number of reasons.
He hadn’t wanted the confirmation.
One more thing he couldn’t fix.
“If I had my Winchester…if it wasn’t almost dark.”
The door to the house flew open. Hope and Patience stood on the porch.
“Glory, did you have to go and shoot him again?” Squirt called.
He glanced at his flustered companion. “I’m all right, Punkin. She was only practicing so she could do a better job next time.”
“Go back inside. If I decide to put another hole in him, I’ll sell tickets,” she told her sisters.
His grin died a quick death when she cocked the hammer, lining up another bullet in the chamber. He held up his hands. “Hey, hold it. I’m an unarmed cripple.”
In reply, she steadied her arm and sent another chunk of lead toward the offending target.
And missed again.
“You want me to move the blasted thing closer?” He tried to joke away the look of devastation that reminded him too much of his father’s grief when he laid their mother into the ground.
The withering glare left no need for words.
“How long did you think you could keep this secret?” he asked quietly.
“Long as I had to. I hope you’re satisfied.” She handed the weapon back to him, the quiver of her chin betraying the struggle for control.
“It’s all right if you cry.” He prayed his calm gentleness soothed her in some way.
“Tears are for weaklings, a luxury I can’t afford.”
Luke pulled her against him. “I wouldn’t want it getting around, but I’ve been known to shed a few on occasion.” Hell, he’d cried when Jessie rode off with his brother. He sure felt like it again right now. “Despite saying the only reason you tracked me was the reward—”
“I admitted nothing of the sort. And supposing I did, would it alter anything?”
That settled it. She had no use for a man without means.
“Probably not,” he said low.
“That’s what I thought.”
“But if I could c
hange… Marry me, Glory. Let me take care of you, of your family.”
Shocked silence. Not a good sign and not something he expected to his first proposal of marriage. It made perfect sense though. She didn’t exactly have anyone knocking down the door to help. Unless you counted the new doc.
She leaned back to look up at him. “Why? Because you think I can’t see good enough? Damn, I can think of better excuses to marry someone.”
“I’ll take your load if you’ll let me.” He traced her proud jaw with a fingertip and lifted a silky strand of her hair.
“And what happens when you get tired of being saddled with a useless wife and three extra mouths to feed?”
“How do you know how much I can handle?”
“I’m not about to find out. And that’s final. I won’t let you smother your lifelong ambitions…not for me, not for my family, and not because I’m going blind.”
“A man’s destiny can change.” His gentle rebuke fell on deaf ears…if he’d even spoken the words aloud. Could be his heart voicing the need to switch directions. “Anyhow, you don’t know you’ll lose total sight. Maybe a pair of spectacles would fix you right up.” Besides, he had trouble picturing proud, stoic Glory Day as useless. It’d never happen.
“I won’t speak of this again.”
“I’ll keep the offer open should you reconsider.” He launched the request toward her backside, for she’d moved in the direction of the house.
“I won’t.” Glory stopped and turned. “If you have no place to bed down for the night, you’re welcome to use the barn.”
* * *
“Here she comes.” Patience let the curtain slide into place and scurried into the parlor a split second before the back door opened. “They didn’t kiss or anything.”
“Patience Ann! It’s none of your business. And you don’t have to sound so heartbroken.”
“He wanted to though.”
“He wanted to what, Squirt?” Glory asked innocently, closing the door.
“Kiss you.”
“How would you know anything about that?”
“Mr. Luke is your beau and that’s what beaus do.” By her slowly measured words, Patience let Glory know that only someone who arrived on a broomstick from the moon would be so ignorant. “Besides, you’re sweet on him.”
