Sweeten the Swindler

by Adams, Dallis

  Jake's horse had a reddish-brown coat with a dark mane. It glistened in the afternoon sun, looking as proud and fierce as the man riding it.

  Maxine froze on the boardwalk, unable to force herself to move. His very presence was like a magnet to her.

  He rode the big horse with ease, his body in tune with the animal. His hat shaded his face, making his features obscure. The legs of a tripod stuck out from his saddle bags. And some kind of scope with a brass end peeked out from the flap.

  She was just about to escape any sort of felicities by hustling down the lane that led to the miner's hat shop when she heard something that wasn't human.

  An animal's moan. A San Joaquin kit? A wolf pup?

  It was at that moment she realized he carried the creature close to his chest. It was small. His forearm covered the the length of the tiny creature from its head to its tail.

  "Whoa," he said to the horse as he came to a stop a few feet in front of her. "Glad to see you, Miss Sweeten. I've got an emergency and I think you're the only one who can help if you'll please wait a moment." He guided the horse to a hitching post.

  "Perhaps," she said as she caught a glimpse of dark eyes surrounded by golden-brown fur at it peered at her "Is that a dog? It looks like a Yorkshire Terrier."

  "Yes, you're right," he replied with a snap of his fingers. "Yorkshire Terrier. I couldn't remember the name of the breed. I found the poor little hooligan in the woods wailing its head off when I was surveying. Something is wrong with its leg. Pitiful little guy has been caterwauling most of the way back to town."

  The worry she detected in his expression melted her heart, not to mention the manner in which he carefully dismounted, keeping the tiny canine close to his chest while he lowered himself down to the ground. Although awkward to do with only one hand free, he secured the reins to the post, and then turned toward her.

  She started to take the small terrier from him, and only then realized the animal had latched onto his thumb. That he hadn't done anything to make the dog release him made her blurt out, "Ah, did you know the dog is biting you?"

  "Oh?" His wry smile turned into a grimace as the canine bore down on his appendage. His face bunched with a spasm of pain before that disgruntled expression returned. "Couldn't miss it."

  Warmth filled her cheeks with embarrassment at her asinine question. "Of course you knew. Why aren't you doing anything to make the dog release your thumb?"

  He sighed an gestured helplessly toward the dog. "Because I didn't want to hurt it. I mean, hurt the mutt more than it already is. And I think he's biting me in the hopes that he'll get control over his own pain. The poor fellow is just trying to hang on. The foot, or maybe it's the whole leg, that seems to be paining the little bit of a rascal mightily. Too, the little hooligan is too small. I didn't want to force it's jaw opened for fear I would break it." He gestured toward the dog with his free hand. "Any ideas as to how to make the mutt let go?"

  Without answering, she stepped closer so she could reach the dog. As she did so, the woodsy, musky scent of Jake Stark swept over her, making her slightly dizzy. The warmth of his arm as she brushed against him seeped into her.

  Get a-hold of yourself, Maxie-girl, she silently admonished herself. Only a few minutes ago hadn't she been telling Araceli she didn't trust the man? And now just because he had brought her an injured dog she was all fluttery around him like a mindless butterfly. What a mess she was!

  She reached under the dog's mouth and pinched its jaw line to force the terrier to open its mouth. At the same time she said, "Open."

  The dog complied, accompanied with what she would call an indignant snort if the animal were human. When the terrier did so, a gush of blood leaked from the pad of Jake's appendage.

  "Your thumb!" Maxine cried out with a gasp. "It's bleeding."

  "It's alright," he replied, and pressed his thumb with his forefinger in an attempt to stop the flow.

  "No, it isn't. Give the dog to me and then let's see to your injury."

  He held the dog away from her. "The mutt will bite you."

  "No, I won't allow it to."

  Before he could deny her, she leaned over and scooped up the dog. Indeed, it did turn to bite her. But she was ready. She caught it by its nose and mouth. Clamping her fingers around its muzzle, she said, "No."

  That was all it took. The dog licked the back of her hand and then continued to whimper as it held up its paw.

  Jake studied her with those uncanny light-silver eyes. "You're good with animals."

  "And you're incredibly kind toward them, even when one hurts you," she replied, and realized she sounded as if she admired him. Is this all it took for her to open her heart to him? To trust him? Inwardly, she rolled her eyes at her own actions, even as she watched blood trickle down to his wrist. "Let me look at your thumb."

  "I'm fine." He took a kerchief out of his pants pocket and wrapped the square cloth around it. "Take care of the little hooligan first."

  She was surprised ... and, despite her doubts about him, touched. Yet, she still didn't know if she trusted him. There was just something about him, about the incident with this dog that didn't add up. But she would go with the situation for now and see where it led, keeping her eyes wide opened.

  "Follow me." Taking the lead, she headed toward the back of Pasely's factory toward the shed she used to care for her injured creatures, using a different path than the one that led to the store and office so she would be hidden by the trees in the grove.

  She didn't want Uncle Geary seeing her with Jake. Why? Uncle Geary, bless his heart, would want to invite Jake to dinner. She didn't want that because it would imply that she was interested in courting Jake. And she wasn't. Too, by now Uncle Geary would have heard about Atherton's introduction of Maxine to Jake, and Uncle Geary would insist that she at least get to know Jake since Atherton obviously approved of Jake. No, this dilemma was a one-time deal. Their walking together wouldn't happen again. She planned on avoiding Jake Stark as much as possible.

  Even as she told herself this, while she traveled down the dirt path, she was vitally aware of the man behind her. Although he walked with a respectful distance between them, he seemed to take up the whole path. That woodsy musky scent that reminded her of nutmeg and something deliciously darker wrapped around her. She found herself thinking this was the first time she'd taken a human to her creature realm for patching up.

  "Where did you find Hooligan?"

  He grinned. "I knew you'd be good for the mutt. You're already attached to him."

  She looked down a the dog. As if it remembered it was hurt, it let out another whimper. She patted the terrier's head as she asked, "Why do you say that?"

  "Because you already named him."

  But she was already shaking her head. "No, you're the one who named him."

  "I did?"

  "Yes," she said, her lips curving of their own volition. "You did. I heard you call him little Hooligan three times now."

  He shrugged. "Well, it was either that, or Varney."

  "Varney? As in Varney the Vampire?"

  "Exactly. The mutt is like a canine vampire since he seems to like blood ... although he hasn't gone for my jugular yet."

  She still couldn't believe he mentioned the character named Varney. "You read Penny Dreadfuls?"

  "Of course." He raised his brows at her. "Doesn't everybody?"

  She grinned, amazed she'd discovered yet another interest they shared. "Nope, not many—" men, she was about to say, but refrained. "At least, not here in Blessings. So you like to read?"

  "Yes," he responded simply.

  She waited to see if he would add more to his declaration but when he didn't she felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. No, she decided, she didn't want to know what else he liked to read.

  Because she feared Araceli was right—that Jake Stark was her destiny. Yet another premonition of Coco' come true.

  "Well, then. I'm calling this little terrier Varney."


  "Sounds fine to me." He gave the dog a tender glance before looking at her, his eyes molten silver.

  She was so startled by his expression that she tripped over a tree root. He caught her by the upper arm, steadying her. His touch seemed to burn a hole through her woolen jacket. She hurried past him the last few yards and opened the wooden door.

  After stepping inside the shed's gloomy interior, she carefully laid the dog on a bed of straw covered with a worn saddle blanket and topped with an old soft sheet. Varney complied by lying on his side. The terrier whimpered and then licked her hand again, as if it knew she was going to help. Gently, she felt along the dog's leg, but found no broken bones.

  Jake hovered over the tiny canine. "Is Varney alright?"

  "I think so. Nothing is broken." She patted Varney's side. "He must have strained his leg muscle. I have some salve that will help heal his leg." She reached over to grab the jar of liniment on the work table and unscrewed the lid. Intent on the terrier, she leaned over the dog.

  Jake leaned over at the same time. They bumped heads, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to grab her attention. They both looked up at each other, just a scant inches apart. Shared breaths. His breath was scented with nutmeg and cinnamon. His light silver eyes darkened as they filled up her whole vision. Well, that, and his mouth. Such a kissable mouth—full yet firm-looking. Heart-shaped. "Do you want me to help?"

  What? Help her do what? Help kiss her? Drive her crazy?

  "Loco en la cabeza? I'm sure I am, ma'am."

  It was then she realized she'd voiced her last question, and in Spanish. Although the crazy part referred to herself— not him. Heat suffused her cheeks.

  "Do you know why?" he whispered.

  "Why what?" she asked, not able to hold onto what their conversation was about.

  "Why I'm crazy in the head."

  "I'm not sure I want to know," she muttered. What was wrong with her? She was acting like an addled child still in her layette.

  "Because I can't quit thinking of you. You fascinate me."

  "I do?" A thrill shuddered over her, made every facet of her being snap to attention with a soldier's salute. That she could fascinate anybody as virile and exciting as Jake Stark was something she'd never even considered.

  "Yes," he breathed and leaned closer to brush his lips against hers. Their mouths were a minuscule portion of an inch away when Varney let out a whimper and licked her fingers.

  Startled, she jumped back and looked down at the terrier. The small canine rolled onto its back.

  Jake sighed. "I think he's become your chaperone."

  Thank heavens. Because she needed one when she was around Jake Stark.

  "HOW MUCH DO I OWE YOU for doctoring Varney?" Jake asked as he carried the dog out of the woodshed.

  Maxine glanced over her shoulder at him as he walked over the threshold, and then latched the door closed behind him. Varney leaned his head back on Jake's chest as he cradled the dog's bandaged leg in his large hand. In fact, most of the dog's tiny body fit in his palm. His obvious attachment to the dog touched her as nothing else did.

  Maybe she was wrong about him. After all, animals had better instincts about humans than humans did of each other. But still. She decided to be informed was to be forewarned. Later this afternoon she would shoot off a telegram to her broker and discover if there was really a company called Whisper Railroad. "You don't owe me anything. It's my pleasure to nurse Varney."

  "Surely I can pay you for the liniment," Jake persisted.

  "Nope. If I would have found him, I would have treated his injury all the same. I care for injured animals frequently. My treatment is a thanks to you for caring enough to rescue the little fellow."

  "Of course I care. How can I not?" he asked as he reached with his other hand to pat the dog's head, who latched its teeth to one of his fingers. He sighed and held his hand very still while the canine bore down.

  "Varney. No." She shook her finger at him. The terrier immediately responded by releasing Jake's finger.

  She glanced up at Jake and shook her head. "You must be gentle but firm with Varney. Don't let him treat you that way."

  "I know," he replied with a sigh. "He's just so small. Besides, how do I make him mind with one hand holding him, the other incapacitated because the little imp is holding onto a finger?"

  "You could flick his nose with the hand he was biting. A dog's nose is sensitive. But the flick should startle him into letting go. Say the word no as you're doing it too so he learns it's unacceptable to bite."

  "Maxine!" her uncle called out behind her. "What are you doing in the grove with a stranger?"

  She turned to see her relative bearing down on her, his craggy face screwed up into a scowl. As heat stung her cheeks over her uncle treating her like a child, she resisted rolling her eyes at him. "Uncle Geary, this is not a stranger, especially since Atherton introduced him to me. This is Jake Stark with Whisper Railroad. Jake, meet Geary Pasley, my uncle."

  "How do you do," Uncle Geary said in a stiff, rather unfriendly tone.

  Jake didn't seem offended. He just smiled, tipped his hat in respect and said, "Likewise, Mr. Pasley. A pleasure to meet you."

  "Now if you'll excuse us, Maxine and I have business. And I'm certain you do too, being a railroad man."

  Surprise hit her when Uncle Geary grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her away from Jake, his grip tight.

  "We do? Uncle? What's wrong?" Maxine couldn't believe how hostile her uncle was acting. What was wrong with him? And to manhandle her like this. She resisted the urge to yank her arm away from him. She knew that he could get that hostile attitude around a supplier in dispute and the occasional customer, but never toward gentlemen of her acquaintance, and especially those approved of by Atherton.

  More importantly, never toward her.

  "I need you. Our new shipment coming today. Now."

  "Ah, yes. The shipment." What shipment? Not wanting to make a scene, she turned to Jake, who was squinting curiously at her uncle. "Bring Varney back to the shed tomorrow around one o'clock and let me look at his leg to see if it's improving."

  "As you wish, Miss Sweeten." He gave her a wink and a smile. "And I'll practice on not allowing Varney to take advantage of me."

  She watched him walk away through the trees, his movements sure. Deliberate. Lazy. Like a wildcat.

  Uncle Geary glared at her, his lips thinned. "I want you to stay away from that man."

  "Why?"

  "Because ... because I don't like the looks of him." He rubbed the back of his head, a sure sign he was extremely agitated. "I've just got a funny feeling about him, is all."

  That he couldn't give her a reason bothered her. "Uncle. This isn't like you, to judge a man without knowing him."

  "Maybe I don't know him, but I know his ilk. He's too slick, too confident. Too ... cocky. Like he knows something we don't."

  Cocky? Slick? Those weren't the adjectives she would have come up with to describe Jake. He was funny, intelligent, kind ... and extremely desirable.

  For some reason, Jake Stark really rubbed her uncle the wrong way, and it wasn't like her uncle to make such snap decisions about a stranger. It made her even more curious about Jake. For the first time she'd met somebody who could make her blood pump, her heart race.

  Was it because her uncle could sense her attraction to Jake and so he didn't want her to fall in love? He'd never shown much interest in anybody she courted. "Don't worry, Uncle Geary. I'm a smart girl. You raised me, remember?"

  "Of course you're smart. But you don't know much about life. You're too trusting."

  She shrugged. "Maybe I am. Now what's this about a shipment?"

  "A shipment?"

  "Today. You said a shipment is coming in today."

  A muscle jumped in his jaw as his whole body stiffened. "I misspoke. No, I made it up to get you away from that scoundrel."

  "Good grief, Uncle. Take a deep breath. Don't worry about me. Everything will be fin
e." As she patted her uncle's shoulder reassuringly, she decided to investigate to see if the inventory matched her bookkeeping. Her uncle was acting as if he hid something from her, and this wasn't the first time. A month ago, she'd questioned him about Sheffield Manufacturing, who supplied the shop with supplies for miners. Although the company had a stellar reputation, she'd heard customers complain about the quality of the metals used to make the equipment. Her uncle had taken her questions personally— as if she questioned his judgment. So she'd let it drop. Which had been a mistake. Because shortly after that confrontation was when her uncle had reassigned her to bookkeeping only. She'd been hurt. But now she wondered if he was hiding something from her. She decided she would investigate quietly, on her own.

  Too, she promised herself she would get to know Jake, gather facts about him as well, and spend time with him, which would help her get to the bottom of the mystery of Jake Stark. For, it looked more and more like Coco might be right.

  That was, he really might be her soul mate.

  Chapter Five

  Several hours later, after the sun had set and the town was asleep, Jake slipped through the grove that separated Pasley's Miner Hats from the rest of the businesses and headed for the office door. A flickering flame through the window made him pause. He peeked through the wavy pane of glass and saw Maxine.

  She sat at a desk with two ledger books open, one overlapping the other. Other scraps of paperwork was scattered around her. She picked up a narrow sheath of paper and then wrote something in one of the ledgers. Her gaze followed her finger down as her lips moved. He realized she was adding the figures she'd written in the column. Then she hefted up another ledger and was obviously comparing figures. What was she doing? Her brows slanted downward and she widened her eyes. Why did she look so worried? Had she discovered discrepancies in the inventory versus her bookkeeping?

  Her pearly white teeth tugged on her lower lip.

  He suddenly wanted to be the one to tug on that lower lip. To run his tongue along the soft underside of said lip. He liked watching her as she worked, unaware of his presence. Intelligent eyes was what she had, with a tilt that gave her an exotic look. The mixture of smart and lovely made his heart stutter, and his mouth go dry.