Cora’s eyes twinkled. “Marshal.”
He couldn’t bear to look at Franklin. No doubt the man was laughing. “Franklin,” he muttered in passing, eager to be outside again where he could breathe the night air and will his body to stop reacting to a pair of green eyes.
Late the next afternoon, Boone knocked at the Maguires’ door. He was tired and, admittedly, not in the best of moods—for many reasons. For one, questioning his prisoner several times last night had proved fruitless. He was stymied in his investigation into Lee Tanner’s murder. Plus, here he stood like a besotted fool, holding a gift for a woman. The teasing he’d taken at the mercantile for buying one of those dime novels hadn’t helped his mood any, either. Had it been summer, he’d merely have walked into the fields and picked some wildflowers, but with winter fast approaching there were none to be found.
He’d never been a man to bring gifts to a woman, preferring to charm his way into a lady’s good graces—and her arms. The brown wrapper crinkled under the reflexive squeeze of his hand as he refused to examine why he wanted to gift Annalee with something. He lifted a shoulder in a defiant gesture. Surely a man wanting to please a lady was not a bad thing. Besides, he had a feeling all the charm in the world wouldn’t work with one green-eyed spitfire.
The door opened. “Marshal, how nice of you to come calling.” Cora beamed a smile at him. “Please, do come in. Annalee is expecting you.” She stood back to make room.
“How is she today?” He removed his hat and handed it to her.
“Much stronger, thank you for asking.” She hung his hat on the oak hall tree and headed for the stairway. “Follow me, please.”
Cora knocked on her guest’s door before opening it. “Your gentleman caller is here, dear.” She motioned him in. “Would you care for a cup of coffee, Marshal?”
“Yes, please.” He watched the older woman make a production out of leaving the bedroom door wide open before she left. Then he set his eyes on Annalee. The glorious sight nearly dropped him to his knees. Her red hair, brushed to a shine, fell in soft curls over her breasts. She wore a flowered flannel wrapper over whatever she did or didn’t have on under it. He cursed his body’s reaction to that thought.
“Feeling any better today, lil’ greenhorn?”
She nodded, her expression wary. “Yes, I am feeling better, thank you kindly. Just to clear the air, Marshal, the name is Annalee, not lil’ greenhorn.”
He fought to suppress the smile niggling at the corners of his lips. “Of course.” If only he could take his gaze off her hair, he might have the wherewithal to make it to the chair he’d sat in last night. God, the woman had beautiful hair. Among the Cheyenne, everyone’s was dark. Perhaps that was why her colorful locks beckoned.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, then? Did I grow an extra eye during the night?”
This time his smile spread. Her sassiness delighted him. “I was just admiring your beautiful hair.”
Her hand rose to stroke a curl. “Oh.” She seemed unaccustomed to a man’s appreciation. “Mr. Hartwell…”
He stepped to the side of the bed. “Call me Boone, please.”
“Very well, Boone. I want to apologize for the way I acted on the stagecoach and after we arrived in Cicero Creek. I was in so much pain from the burns and distraught over losing my parents, I acted like a hoyden.”
He trailed a finger over her hand, amazed at the softness. Two of her fingers rose to touch his palm in an almost reflexive motion. His body reacted to the tingling sensations of their simple contact. “No need to apologize. Not to me. Ever.” He extended the brown-paper-wrapped package. “A gift to occupy you while you recuperate.”
Her green-eyed gaze rose to meet his as she reached out to take the gift. “A present for me? Is this proper?” Nervous fingers picked the twine tied around the brown paper.
“Is what proper?” Cora’s expression was one of inquiry when she breezed in with a tray. “Marshal, here’s your coffee. Annalee, I took the liberty of making you a cup of that chamomile tea you like.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Maguire.” Boone took the tray from Cora and set it on the table next to the bed. Once everyone had their drinks, Boone turned to Annalee. “Will you be staying on in Cicero Creek? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m not sure. I’d planned on living with my grandfather while I started a dress shop here in town, but now that he’s gone too…” She shot a quick glance at Cora. “Maybe I should just go back to Chicago and start over. At least I know people there.”
“My dear, where would you stay? You have no relations to take you in.” Cora stepped to the foot of the bed, her hand at her throat. “I’d be so worried for you.”
“Don’t be, Cora. I have my friend, Emma Rose Prescott. She worked for me in my shop. Her home burned, too, but she went to live with her sister and husband. We could strike out on a new venture together.”
“I do hope you’ll stay. Cicero Creek could use a women’s clothing shop.”
Annalee sipped her tea and regarded Cora over the rim of her cup. “I don’t know how wise it would be for me to stay on.” She turned those fascinating eyes on Boone. “Would I even have a legitimate claim to my grandpa’s property?”
“I’ll look into it for you, if you like. A will would be required. I would expect you to abide by the law, whatever rulings I discover.” He’d hate to see her leave, this feisty ray of sunshine who’d blazed her way into his dim world.
A blush colored her cheeks and her eyes flashed. “I’ll have you know I am a law-abiding citizen. Why I’m a graduate of Miss Feather’s Finishing School for Refined Ladies of Culture and Proper Decorum.”
Boone fought a grin, struggled even harder to retain his composure when she jutted her chin pugnaciously. My, but she was a spitfire. She was fighting her grief and fears with bravery. He could respect that. Her courage impressed him. Maybe he should encourage her to stay. Although, in his estimation, any persuasion from him would make her more determined to catch the first stage back to Chicago.
“I doubt Lee’s affairs will get settled until his murderer is brought to justice. I reckon you could stay on his ranch until someone tries to lay claim to the property. It would take a brave woman to do that, though.” He stood and took her empty teacup before patting the top of her head. “Best you just head back to the world you know, little lady.”
Annalee’s eyes widened and she sucked in air, fairly trembling with indignation. She slapped his hand away. “Touch me again like that and you’ll pull back a bloody stump, so you will. ‘Little lady’ indeed. Humph!” She hiked her chin a notch and folded her arms under her breasts. “Just let some fool try to force me off my grandpa’s property.” She shot Boone a scathing glance.
“Is that a gift on your lap, dear?” Cora sat on the edge of her bed, her eyebrow quirked in question.
“Yes. Mr. Hartwell…er…Boone…gave it to me.”
The older woman’s forehead furrowed in censor. “Oh, Marshal, I don’t know how proper this is. You haven’t declared your intentions, after all.”
“Mrs. Maguire, with all Annalee’s been through, is it so objectionable to give her a few moments of diversion? If I cooked, I’d have made her a pie as a get-well gift.” He shrugged and favored Cora with a smile. “But I don’t cook.”
The corners of the older woman’s mouth twitched. “You mean you don’t bake. One bakes a pie, Marshal.”
Twine snapped and paper tore. “While you two discuss pies, I’m opening my present.” When Annalee saw the salmon cover, she gasped. “A book!” She wrapped her hands around it and read the title out loud. “The Seamstress and the Savage. Oh, I haven’t read this one.”
Cora pressed a hand to her bosom. “Do you indulge in this kind of literature? I mean…ah… Is this proper reading for a refined young lady?”
Annalee scowled, a look of determination in her eye. “I had several of these books I’d read over and over. I loved every word of them. They
were lost in the fire too.”
“Well...” Cora’s features softened. “Then by all means, you should accept the marshal’s most generous gift.”
“Ladies, I have some things that need taken care of. Enjoy your book, Annalee.”
She held the book to her breast as if it were a cherished item. “Thank you, Boone.” A slow smile spread and her green eyes sparkled.
The mesmerizing sight made his mouth go dry and his heart roll over. There were moments he enjoyed making her angry, watching her jut her chin in that mulish manner she was so prone to use. But this…this…seeing her happy stirred feelings he never expected. Feelings he wanted to experience again. His longing for her unsettled him.
When Cora cleared her throat, he realized he’d been staring at Annalee—and she at him. “Ah, Mrs. Maguire, I’ll be by to check on Annalee tomorrow, if that’s convenient. There’s no need to see me out. I know the way.” He walked toward the door and stilled in the doorway. Words needed said. “One more thing, Mrs. Maguire.”
“Yes, Marshal?”
“I’m declaring my intentions.”
Chapter Six
Annalee insisted on getting dressed. Boone was coming later today, and she wanted him to see her at her best. She still wore wrappings over some of her burns, although the pain subsided every day.
“One more and your boots will be fastened.” Cora grunted with the effort of pulling the corded loop over the button with a long metal hook. She stood and straightened her dark green skirt. “I hope the effort of getting dressed hasn’t overtaxed you.”
“I’m fine, Cora. I can’t lie in bed for another day. The walls are closing in about me.” Annalee stood and smoothed her black dress. “Being a seamstress, I’m not used to wearing store-bought things. But with everything destroyed in the fire, I had to purchase new clothes. Do you know, sometimes I can still smell the smoke, as if the stench of it is embroidered in my brain somehow.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” Cora began clucking her tongue again.
“I think I’ll go outside for some fresh air.” Annalee stepped to the window and pulled back the curtain. Seeing the gentle rain tugged at a memory. “Da used to call a rainy day, like today, a ‘soft day.’ Oh, how I miss him.” The edge of the curtain slipped from her fingers as tears filled her eyes. “My parents and I were so close.”
Cora handed her a clean handkerchief, and she dabbed at her tears. “They were such good parents.” Pain, fresh and strong, stabbed her heart and constricted her chest like a corset of grief.
She blinked away the tears and hurried from the bedroom. Air, she needed air. Once onto the Maguires’ front porch, she leaned against the banisters and inhaled cool moisture. Dark clouds hung heavy, with fall’s nip in their gray claws.
“Here, you’ll catch your death of cold.” Cora wrapped a woolen shawl around Annalee’s shoulders. “I’ll allow you to stand out here for two minutes, and then I must insist you come inside.”
“You’re a good woman. Momma was always big on Christian charity. You are too.”
A blush kissed Cora’s cheeks. Her hand rested on one of Annalee’s. “You aren’t the only one who misses family. I miss my sons and the mothering I once did. Having you here has granted me a chance to mother again.” Her forehead furrowed and a hand fluttered to her bosom. “Oh, dear, I hope you don’t think I was implying I was putting myself in your momma’s place. I…”
“Cora, it’s all right. I know what you meant. Besides, I doubt you could ever do anything wrong. I’m the one with the temper and the ‘devil tongue,’ or so Miss Feather called it.”
“God gives us each a different temperament. He likes variety. We have to learn to accept the shortcomings we’re given and not disparage ourselves for them. Now, let’s go inside so you can rest before your gentleman caller comes.”
She followed Cora inside and settled on the divan in the parlor. “I don’t know if I like the thought of Boone Hartwell as my gentleman caller.”
“You don’t find him suitable?” Cora sat on a chair near the fireplace. “He’s very well thought of here in Cicero Creek. We have many bachelors, and I daresay once they see you they’ll be beating a path to your door. Single women are sparse in our community. In fact, you’re the only young unattached woman we have who’s of marriageable age.”
“I’m not interested in marriage. Miss Feather taught her students to rely on themselves and not on a man.” Caring for someone meant you were vulnerable to losing them, just as she’d lost her parents. She couldn’t bear to go through that pain again.
“Having someone who completes you is a wonderful thing.”
“Do I look as if I’m only half a person?”
Cora laughed. “Oh, you are a caution. I was speaking of your heart and soul being complete. Wonderfully fulfilled.”
Footsteps sounded on the wooden porch. Was it Boone? Annalee’s heart rate kicked up and her palms suddenly went damp.
The door opened.
“Cora, darlin’, I’m home. Where’s my kiss?”
Drats, it’s Franklin.
“After thirty-two years of marriage, he’s still asking that same question.” Cora’s cheeks blazed as she bustled toward the foyer, her taffeta skirts swishing. “I’m here, dear. Annalee and I are both here.”
Low murmurings were followed by the rustle of clothing. Witnessing the closeness between Franklin and Cora was bittersweet, reminding her of the strong love her parents had shared. But loving meant losing. If she opened her heart to a man, then she’d also risk having him torn from her again, like her parents and grandpa had been. Did she want to go through that pain ever again? No. Better to shield her heart against love.
Footfalls stomped on the steps, louder than Franklin’s had been a few moments earlier. A larger man, like Boone, approached. Her mouth went dry and her heartbeat thumped along with his boot steps. She jerked when the knock sounded. Fool woman. Settle down!
Greetings were exchanged in the Maguire foyer. Then Boone entered the spacious parlor, and the room shrank. Cora reached for his buckskin jacket to hang it up. The blue chambray shirt he wore fit tightly over his muscles. Not that she was one to notice. Nor was she going to notice or comment on the haircut he’d gotten since yesterday or the way his close shave emphasized his strong jaw.
Just how was she to guard her heart against a man such as the one standing before her?
“Good afternoon, lil’ greenhorn. It’s good to see you up and about.” He smiled and her heart did an Irish jig.
Oh, she had to fight this attraction, so she did. “I believe we had this discussion before. The name is Annalee.”
The man had the audacity to wink at her. The scoundrel. Boone chuckled softly as if he knew he was flustering her.
“Have a seat next to Annalee, Boone. Tell us about your day.” Franklin unbuttoned his waistcoat before taking a seat himself. “Any leads on Lee Tanner’s murder?”
Boone’s nearness to her on the divan flustered her. Silly, really, since he’d sat much closer on the stagecoach a week ago. She shifted on the divan. “I’d also like to know how your investigation is going.”
Brown eyes studied her and seemed to soften. “I know how important this is to you. I promise I’m doing my best.”
The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “Thank you, Marshal.”
A slow smile spread. “I thought we agreed you’d call me Boone.”
She looked away, forcing herself not to smile or respond to his charm. But when his pinky finger hooked around hers, a stab of something hot and trembling shot all the way to a very private place. She nearly gasped with the power of it.
Evidently it didn’t faze him one bit, for he kept right on talking. “There is an idea brewing in my mind. I’ve telegraphed a Pinkerton agent who’s going to check on a few things for me. I’ve interviewed most everyone here in town.” He crossed a booted foot over his knee as if he were settling into the conversation. “As far as I know, Lee had no enemies. Yes, he was gru
mpy and sometimes distant, but he was also quick to lend a hand if someone needed help. For the life of me, I can’t figure who hated him enough to kill him. I keep asking myself if that person was part of the Cicero Creek community or someone merely passing through.”
“Did Grandpa live on his ranch alone?”
“Lee had two cowpunchers working for him year ’round. Their bunkhouse is at the end of his orchard.”
“Are they still there? The ranch hands, I mean.”
Boone nodded. “They’ve stayed on, taking care of things out of respect for Lee. That, and they probably have no place else to go.”
“And just where were they when my sainted grandpa was shot?”
“Sainted?” Boone chuckled. “Lee would certainly see the humor in that remark. Baldy and Lazlow were playing cards at the Red Garter Saloon. They were loyal to him, as loyal as the day is long. I’ve talked to them both a couple times since the murder. Checked on their alibis, and they’re in the clear.”
“I see.”
“When do you plan on going to see his ranch?”
“I’d like to move into Grandpa’s house tomorrow.”
“I’d be happy to escort you.” Boone’s gaze shifted to Cora’s. Her lips were pinched in obvious displeasure at his suggestion. He glanced back at Annalee. “I could borrow a buggy and take you and Cora to see the ranch. I’m fairly familiar with his property.”
Cora’s smile returned. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Marshal.” She looked at Annalee. “Why don’t we just look at the cabin tomorrow and see what it needs. While the condition of your grandfather’s house might have suited him, well, we women do require more comfortable lodgings. Give yourself a chance to spruce up the place before you move in.” Cora looked at her husband. “Don’t you think I’m right, Franklin?”
“Yes, I do. But why not use this situation to everyone’s benefit? Tomorrow, you and Annalee could go see what is required to make Lee Tanner’s cabin more welcoming. Meanwhile I’ll get the word out we’re asking the whole town to help. The women could focus on the cleaning and the men could fix things around the property. Then we could have a community supper. Give everyone a chance to socialize and meet Annalee.”
A Man for Annalee Page 4
