LANDRY’S BACK IN TOWN
by
Margery Scott
Copyright © 2016 by Margery Scott
All rights reserved
***
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Chapter One
“Well, hello there, darlin’. Ain’t you a pretty little thing?”
The slurred voice startled Olivia Harding from her reverie. Her gaze darted around, noticing for the first time that she was completely alone. Late afternoon sun cast shadows on the deserted street, and a shaft of light already spilled from the doorway of The Lucky Shamrock Saloon a few buildings away.
She’d made the ten-minute walk between her house and the Rocky Ridge Children’s Home countless times over the past few months without giving any thought to her surroundings.
Until now.
She couldn’t see anyone, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who let her imagination run wild. Someone was lurking in the shadows.
Tendrils of fear snaked up her spine at the suggestive tone of the man’s voice. Her heartbeat skittered in her chest, and a cold chill washed over her.
Suddenly, a man appeared out of the shadows between two boarded-up buildings and stood directly in her path. Foul odors assaulted her nose - liquor, cigar smoke and perspiration.
Dark hair hung in oily strings from beneath a stained hat hanging low over his bloodshot eyes.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. She made a move to go around him.
He blocked her path and moved toward her, his gait a little wobbly. “What’s the hurry, darlin’?”
She could scream, she supposed. But who would hear her? Her cries for help would be drowned out by the voices and the music from piano in the saloon.
She backed up a few steps, widening the gap between them. The man advanced.
She tried to sidestep him. “Let me pass. Now.”
“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he said, mirroring her moves while closing the gap between them to stand within a few inches of her.
Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she took in a deep calming breath. Surely the man wanted to rob her, nothing more. “If it’s money you want, take it.” She shoved her embroidered reticule into the man’s chest.
He laughed, grabbed the bag and tossed it aside. It landed in a pile of trash near the alley entrance. Then he threw the cigar in his hand onto the dirt street. “You got something I want far more than a few coins.”
Moving much faster than she thought him capable of, he gripped her arm. She let out a shriek as he spun her around, wrapping his arm around her throat.
Terror spiked her heart rate at the thought of what he was going to do to her. She kicked and twisted, trying to land a blow to his shin, but he held fast. She clawed at his arm, but it did no good. She felt herself being half-lifted, half-dragged into the shadows between the buildings.
His arm tightened around her neck, cutting off her air. “It’ll be a lot easier on you if you stop fighting,” he hissed.
Dizziness washed over her. Her body weakened from the struggle to draw in a breath. Her lungs burned. Still, she couldn’t give in. Some things were worse than dying.
Suddenly, she heard him grunt. Her body jerked.
Her attacker let out a guttural curse and a moment later, the pressure of his arm around her neck disappeared. Stumbling away from him, she reached out until she came into contact with the rough wood of one of the buildings.
Gasping for air, she spun around and plastered herself against the wall as she peered into the darkness. Her eyes widened as she watched her attacker and another man grappling with each other. Fists connecting with flesh, neither man gaining an advantage until the stranger landed a punch to her attacker’s face. Blood spurted from his nose, and she thought she heard a bone crack.
Her attacker fell backward into the dirt. Kicking out, he hooked his foot around her rescuer’s ankle and jerked, knocking him off balance. He crashed into a bin beside the wall and rolled to the ground as her attacker scrambled to his feet and raced away, disappearing around the corner onto the street.
Olivia was shaking violently, while at the same time relief washed over her as her rescuer slowly got to his feet and limped toward her.
He studied her, his eyes searching her face. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” Her mouth was so dry her voice was little more than a squeak. “I … thank you …”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. Her throat tightened and her eyes stung. Tears threatened, which was silly. The danger was over. What did she have to cry about now? “How did you know …? I mean, I didn’t see anyone on the street.”
“I was doing a job for Martin Raye.”
“The undertaker?”
He nodded. “I happened to be outside when I heard a scuffle. Didn’t realize what was going on until I came around the corner.”
“I’m so glad you heard it,” she said, her voice growing thready as the memory of her attacker’s hands on her flooded her brain again. “I can’t even imagine … what might have happened if you hadn’t been there. You quite possibly saved my life.”
She looked closely at him. Dark blue eyes, a strong, square chin, and a nose that appeared to have been broken once or twice. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and a gunbelt resting on lean hips. An aura of danger surrounded him, and for a moment she wondered if she’d been saved by someone who was a bigger threat than the one he’d rescued her from.
“Sure looked like he planned to hurt you some, but I don’t know that he would’ve killed you. I’m Landry Mitchell, by the way.”
“Olivia Harding.” She held out her gloved hand, now covered with dirt and mud. Still, he took it in his, her small hand disappearing in his large work-roughened one. Even through the white satin fabric, his warmth seeped into her, chasing away the chill of what had almost happened.
“Nice to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” he said.
He brushed his chestnut-colored hair back off his face with his fingers. It was only then she noticed the gash on the side of his forehead near his temple. Blood trickled down his cheek. “You’re hurt!”
“Nothing to worry about. I’ve been hurt far worse than this.” He reached up and wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.
“You’ll need to get Doc Leonard to stitch that up,” she said, moving a few steps closer and peering at the jagged wound.
“It’s fine.”
“Really—”
“Put your hands up, Mitchell.” The voice came from behind, startling Olivia. She spun around to see the sheriff, Zane Morgan, and his deputy, Emmett Farris, a few yards away.
Emmett had his gun out of the holster and pointed at Landry’s chest. A small crowd had begun to gather behind them, filling the air with voices.
Lan
dry raised his arms in surrender. “Take it easy, Emmett. No need to get yourself all worked up.”
“No!” Olivia cried out, moving to stand in front of Landry, shielding him. Surely the deputy wouldn’t shoot a woman. “He didn’t do anything.”
“You all right, Olivia?” Zane asked, his gaze taking in the streaks of dirt on her face and the tear in the sleeve of her green blouse.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Thanks to Mr. Mitchell.”
Zane’s brows arched. “Is that so?”
“He saved me from … well, I’d rather not think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been here.”
As Olivia looked on, Emmett took a few steps toward Landry, his mouth twisting in a sneer. “Getting yourself in trouble again, Mitchell?”
Landry met his gaze squarely. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“You bet I would.” Emmett’s hatred of Landry was clear in the tone of his voice. “I’d like to see you back behind bars where you belong.”
Back behind bars? He was a criminal? He’d saved her from what would likely have been an unspeakable horror, and he’d been nothing but a gentleman. She found it hard to believe he’d been in prison.
Landry’s lips quirked. “Sorry to disappoint you, Emmett, but like the lady said, I was just trying to help.”
“Emmett.” Zane interrupted the confrontation between the two men. “Looks like everything’s fine here. Why don’t you head on back to the office?”
Emmett’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move. Then, a few tense seconds later, he lowered his Colt and slid it back into the holster. With a final glare in Landry’s direction, he turned and stormed off.
Zane watched Emmett go, then turned his attention to the onlookers who’d appeared out of nowhere and were now milling around trying to get a good look. “There’s nothing to see here, folks,” he said. “Go on home.”
He waited until the crowd had dispersed before turning his attention back to Olivia. “Want to tell me what happened?”
As much as she’d rather forget the whole incident, she wanted the man who’d attacked her found and arrested. In as much detail as she could recall, she described everything that had happened up to the time Zane and Emmett arrived.
“He doesn’t sound familiar from the description, but since you say he’d been drinking, I’ll take a walk over to the saloon and see if there’s anyone there that looks like the man you described. Meanwhile, I suggest you pay extra attention for the next little while. What were you doing in this end of town?”
“I was at the orphanage,” she said.
“Well, I’d advise you not to go walking around by yourself for a few days, just in case …” His voice trailed off.
Olivia’s eyes widened, and her heartbeat sped up. “You think he might—?”
“Probably not,” he said, his voice taking on a tone meant to calm a hysterical child. “He’s likely a drifter who’d had too much to drink and you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’s probably sleeping it off somewhere or already long gone. But it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”
“I will.”
“And if you see him again, make sure you stay away from him. Come and get me and let me take care of it.”
She nodded.
Zane turned to Landry. “You’ve got quite a gash there, Mitchell,” he said “You might want to get Doc to look at it.”
“No thanks. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just finish up what I was doing and go back to the livery. I still have work to do before I run out of daylight.”
Zane nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll see Olivia home.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Olivia said, looking up at Landry. “If there’s anything I can to do repay you …”
Landry turned to Olivia. “Glad to be of assistance, ma’am.” He went back into the alley to pick up his hat from where it had landed during the scuffle. Brushing off the dirt and dust, he put it on and turned away.
Olivia watched him until he disappeared from view, wishing she could have spent more time with him, getting to know him. Something about him drew her in, a need, a sadness in his eyes that she understood only too well.
But he was a criminal, for heaven’s sake.
But if he was free, that meant he’d paid his debt to society, she contradicted herself. Shouldn’t he be given a second chance?
Cupping her elbow, Zane guided her down the boardwalk toward the house she’d inherited from a grandfather she’d never met. She’d come to Rocky Ridge to sell the house, but instead, she’d fallen in love with the town and the people who lived there, and had never left.
“You’re lucky he was close by.” Zane’s voice interrupted her thoughts as if he’d read her mind. “But he’s not the kind of man you want to befriend. He and his brother got themselves in a heap of trouble and even though he’s kept to himself since he got back, there’s no way to know what he might do once his brother gets out.”
He might be trouble, Olivia thought, but he had risked his life to save her. He’d ended up with a wound on his forehead, and it could have been so much worse. Her attacker had had a gun, and he could very easily have killed Landry for trying to help her.
“Was he really in prison like Emmett said?”
Zane nodded, but didn’t offer any further information.
“What for?” she asked.
“Landry, his brother and another man were convicted of robbing the bank.”
“I see.” Olivia slowed her steps to a stop.
Zane walked ahead, then realizing she wasn’t keeping up with him, turned back to face her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Did Mr. Mitchell serve his full sentence?”
“He did.”
“Yet your deputy is still treating him like a criminal,” she pointed out.
“Folks sometimes find it hard to forgive—”
“Do you believe he deserves a second chance?”
“Look, Olivia,” he said, tucking his thumbs into the waist of his pants. “As far as I’m concerned, he served his time and he hasn’t gotten himself into any more trouble. As long as it stays that way, we’ll get along just fine.”
“I’d like to do something for him.”
“That’s not a good idea,” he said. “It would be best if you steer clear of him. He doesn’t seem like he’d take too kindly to anybody trying to socialize with him.”
She nodded, but something deep in her soul couldn’t agree. Something about him touched her, as if … as if he needed her.
And one thing Olivia couldn’t resist was someone in need.
***
Landry sat alone at a table in the corner of The Lucky Shamrock, his back to the wall. That was one of the first lessons he’d learned in prison. Whenever possible, don’t give anyone a chance to attack from behind.
Voices, laughter, and the tinkle of piano keys filled the smoke-laden air. Four cowboys from the Triple M relaxed at the bar, while Doc Leonard and two of the town merchants shared a bottle of whiskey at a table near the back.
Ansel Gerber, the bartender, swiped a glass with a towel and set it on a shelf behind him. He gave Landry a questioning glance, dipping his head to ask silently if he wanted a refill of the beer he’d drained a few seconds before.
Landry shook his head. He knew he should go home, if a bed and a dresser in a room at the back of the livery could be called home. But it was all he had, and even though he’d been out of prison for almost two years, the memory of being caged up like an animal hadn’t left him. After living in a cell, a room with a door he could open was still a luxury he’d never again take for granted.
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Evenin’, Landry.”
He looked up to see Lulu smiling at him. “Evenin’, Lulu.”
“Mind if I sit with you a spell?” she asked, her head gesturing to the empty chair beside him. “You’re looking lonely.”
He shrugged. Lonely? He supposed he was, but
what did he expect, coming back to Rocky Ridge? He should have stayed away, like Tobias told him.
People didn’t forget, Tobias had said. They didn’t forgive. And they sure weren’t going to welcome him back with open arms. So why not go somewhere new, somewhere nobody knew him or what had happened to land him behind bars?
But he hadn’t listened. The question was, why not? Because he was a glutton for punishment? Or because somewhere deep down he believed people were basically good? That eventually his friends and the people he’d grown up with would accept him again and he could have his life back?
“You’re awfully serious tonight, Landry,” Lulu said, sliding into the chair beside him, adjusting the skirt of her deep purple satin dress to give him a clear view of her long, shapely legs. “Want to talk about what’s eating at you?”
“Nothing.” That was a bald-faced lie, but he wasn’t about to share his problems with a saloon whore, even if she was the prettiest and nicest of the ladies there.
He was lonely, but that wasn’t what was weighing on his mind. His thoughts were filled with a particular woman, a woman with pale yellow curls and brownish-gold eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes. And a smile that seemed to chase away the chill that had filled him since the day six years ago that had changed his life forever.
And even though she’d just had probably the worst experience of her life, she’d been nice to him. But she hadn’t known he was an ex-convict then. And even though she’d tried to hide it, he’d seen the surprise and even a little suspicion in her eyes when Emmett had shown up and she’d found out the truth about him.
Before that, he’d sensed something between them, some kind of connection he couldn’t explain. And if things were different, he might have thought about pursuing that connection to see where it led.
But he was an outcast who’d likely made a big mistake trying to put the past behind him. She deserved someone better than him, a man she could be proud to be seen with, a man who hadn’t spent more than three years in prison.
Lulu reached over and rested her hand on his arm, giving him a smile that was a clear invitation. Her fingers stroked his skin, a motion between a caress and a massage. “I’m sure I could take your mind off whatever’s bothering you.”
Landry's Back in Town (Rocky Ridge Romance Book 1) Page 1
