“I got a plan, Larado. Suppose you and me clean that bank out—some night after everyone’s asleep—and take off? I ain’t got the combination to the new safe yet, but I’ll bet I will finally get it if I keep sleepin’ with that fat pig. You and me could have a good time down below the border on that money.”
“But you’re married to the banker,” he protested.
“No, I ain’t.” She smiled and examined her fingernails. “We’re just living in sin, as the proper ladies would say. He’d probably like to get rid of me if he got the chance, since I know enough to put him in prison.”
“Then you’re playin’ a dangerous game, Dixie.”
“I like danger, Larado. That’s why I always liked you.” She leaned forward and slipped her arms around his neck.
“Don’t, Dixie.”
“Don’t what?” She kissed him then. For just a moment he stiffened. Then his man’s hunger took over, and with his eyes closed, he could almost imagine it was Lark in his arms, kissing him with hot abandon. The kiss deepened and lasted a long time. Lark, he thought, oh, Lark….
“Well, excuse me!”
He opened his eyes to see the other buggy with the gray horse just pulling up, and he jerked away from the blond whore. “Lark, sweetie, it’s not what you think—”
“Oh, I’ll just bet it is!” Her dark eyes were full of hurt and fury. “You lied to me when you said you two hadn’t made plans. I was almost stupid enough to believe you. Well, I won’t make that mistake again.”
He ran over, grabbing the bridle. “Listen, Lark, you’ve got to hear me out.”
“Let go of my bridle, you rotten sonovabitch!” She lashed out at him with her little buggy whip, striking him across the face. He shied away from the sting of the lash, losing his hat in the process. Then he tangled his fingers in the whip and jerked hard enough to pull her off the seat. She lost her balance and fell toward him, and he caught her.
“Damn it, Lark, listen to me. It’s you I care about.” He kissed her then, kissed her the way he’d dreamed of kissing her all these lonely, empty nights. Her mouth was hot. For a split second, she surrendered, letting him pull her hard against him while he ravaged her mouth. Then she seemed to remember and clawed at his face, fighting until he let go of her. She fell in a heap of petticoats and light green fabric. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed up her whip.
“I hope you both go to hell,” she spat at them as she got back up in her buggy. She snapped the whip at her gray horse, and the buggy took off in a clatter.
He stood looking after her in frustration, wiping at the bloody scratches on his face. “Don’t say anything, Dixie. You’ve caused me more damn trouble than I want now.”
“You only married her to keep her quiet?” Dixie laughed without mirth. “You weren’t kissin’ her like you cared nothing about her.”
“Shut up, Dixie.” He leaned over and picked up his Stetson off the ground.
“I ain’t afraid—you ain’t the kind to hit a woman.” She started for her buggy. “I’ll tell you another secret you’re too stupid to realize. That woman cares about you.”
“Now I know you’re loco.” He wiped at the bloody scratches on his face again. “She’d like to kill me, that’s what. One thing for sure, what happened just now has made things a lot worse.”
“You got that right.” She stepped up in her buggy. “You ain’t gonna end up in her bed, so you might as well have the money and me.” She winked at him. “I really know how to give a man a good time, as you surely remember. You wouldn’t regret it, Larado.”
He sighed. “I’m regrettin’ it already. Now head back to town before Barclay comes lookin’ for you.”
“You think about what I said, handsome. Mexico, a woman who knows how to make a man happy, and plenty of money. That sure beats being a poor sheriff with a cold wife—and maybe dying in the street, shot by some drunk.”
“I’ll think about it. Now get the hell out of here.”
He waited awhile after Dixie left before riding back into town. It was nearly dark when he unsaddled Chico. He gave Chico a rubdown, feeding him, the little donkey, and the gray buggy horse. “You three better save me room,” he said. “I may be sleepin’ out here with you tonight.”
He went inside. Lark sat in the parlor, sewing on something—but she didn’t look like she had her mind on it. He hesitated in the doorway. “I don’t reckon it would do any good to say I didn’t plan to meet up with her out there.”
She looked up and blinked rapidly as if to clear her vision. “I don’t believe that any more than I believe she came to town just because our sheriff was so law abiding.”
“Well, you are right about that one thing,” he admitted with a nod. “But she did tell me Barclay’s a crook, and she thinks he’ll try to rob his own bank again.”
“What do you mean again?”
“I told you I didn’t get any money in that holdup. Well, Snake didn’t either, but he thinks I did. The banker slipped me a bag of paper and took the money.”
She shook her head, her eyes swollen. “Don’t lie to me. He’s a respectable citizen. Are you telling me he killed his own teller?”
“It don’t make sense, do it? You just have to trust me on that.”
She laughed, but it sounded as if she was about to cry.
Larado sighed. “I don’t know why I bother. I reckon I just thought you might care a little about me—at least enough to believe I wouldn’t shoot a man in the back. Anyway, I don’t shoot well enough to—”
“What?”
“Never mind. It don’t matter.”
“What does matter is I show up and find my husband kissing another woman like he’s about to take her down in the grass and tear her clothes off.”
“She was offerin’—and I’m not gettin’ any at home.”
“You rotten—!” She stood up and swung at him. He caught her hand and jerked her to him. Lark struggled, but he wasn’t about to stop. He kissed her, kissed her like he’d been wanting to do for weeks now. He kissed her with a hunger that would not be denied as he pulled her against him so tightly she could not breathe. And when she gasped and her lips opened, he plunged his tongue inside, ravaging her mouth as his free hand went to cover her breast.
For a moment she struggled, and then she could not keep herself from surrendering to her own needs. She returned the kiss, not caring what had happened that day, not caring about anything but uniting with this virile male in heated passion. “Oh, Larado,” she gasped, “Oh, Larado, please….”
“That’s just what I wanted to hear.” His voice was as cold as his heart. He let go of her so suddenly that she fell against the settee. “Well, no thanks, lady, I ain’t interested. How does it feel to beg? If anyone needs me, I’ll be down at the Cross-eyed Bull getting stinkin’ drunk. And Miss High-and-Mighty, you can go to hell!”
He slammed the door so hard as he left, the house rattled.
Chapter Fifteen
Lark went to bed, but she could not sleep. She hated herself, but especially him—for the need he had aroused in her. He probably aroused the same emotion in Dixie and every woman he met. She lay awake worrying about him since it wasn’t like him to drink much. It must have been halfway through the night when she heard him stumble up on the porch, struggle with the door, and come in the house. He banged around the parlor, cursing when he bumped into objects in the dark. Would he attempt to come into her bedroom? Did she want him to? Are you loco, Lark? Of course not.
She heard him sit down heavily on the creaking settee. She got out of bed, moved the chair, and peeked around the door. He didn’t look up as he attempted to take off his boots, finally mumbling “To hell with it.” Falling over on the settee, he began to snore.
Lark breathed a sigh of relief. At least he’d made it home safely. Now, why should she care? She’d be better off if some outlaw shot him in the back. They’d have to shoot him in the back, because Larado was too famous with his gun skills to face in a shootout. Sh
e put the chair under her door again and went to bed, but she couldn’t sleep. Things had gotten so bad between them that they were both nearly to the breaking point. Dixie and the banker showing up in town made things much worse. Talk about a Mexican standoff!
Light was streaming in the window when she awoke and went to check on Larado. He still lay on the settee, snoring and reeking of whiskey. Now she noticed the lip rouge all over his face. Damn him anyway, he’d probably spent part of the night in some whore’s bed. She didn’t want to think about that.
It was a hot morning as she walked to her shop. Tomorrow was July Fourth, and on every post and bulletin board were notices of the town’s shooting contest. It was the town’s best marksmen’s chance to show off their shooting and win a prize. She was tempted to enter, certain she was as good a shot as any of the men. Her uncle Trace had taught her well. However, if she won it might end up in the Austin and Dallas newspapers, and she didn’t need the publicity. Larado would probably throw a fit anyway, certain she would make a fool of herself.
About noon, Larado lurched into her shop. His face was a pale shade of green. She peered at him. “Are you all right?” Not that she cared, of course.
“Now why wouldn’t I be?” He seemed to be having trouble focusing his eyes.
“Because you look like you’ve been dragged through a knothole backward.”
“You!” he growled. “My life was pretty good until you entered my life. You’ve been the fly in my buttermilk, the pebble in my boot, since the first time we crossed paths.”
“So now you’re blaming the way you feel on me?” she asked primly. “Wipe your face. Some whore’s lip paint is all over you.”
He pulled out a bandana and dabbed at it. “I couldn’t get any kisses anywhere else,” he grumbled.
“Oh, don’t give me that!” she snapped. “Dixie was licking your face like a hound dog eating bacon grease.”
“Well, I didn’t encourage her.” He groaned aloud.
“Don’t give me that. You think I’m blind?”
He sighed, took off his Stetson, and rubbed his head as if it ached. “I don’t reckon you’d have a cup of coffee?”
“I might.” Her heart softened a little at his evident misery. She got him a cup and motioned to a chair. “Sit down before you fall down.”
He sipped the brew. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“Don’t you dare! Not in my shop.”
He tried to focus his eyes. “You don’t care about me. You only care about your damned shop.”
Dealing with a drunk or a barely sober cowboy was a lot like dealing with a small child. “Look,” she said patiently, “why don’t you go home and sleep it off? Paco can handle your duties for a few hours.”
He shook his head and groaned again, gulping the coffee.
“You owe me an explanation, mister,” Lark confronted him.
“About what?”
“About what?” Her voice rose. “About me finding my husband in the arms of a notorious whore like Dixie. Just what was she doing out there?”
“She says she followed me—wanted to talk.”
Lark snorted. “That didn’t look like talking to me.”
“Spoken like a jealous wife.” He managed a weak grin.
“I am not jealous, and must I remind you, I don’t even think we’re legally married.”
“Neither is Dixie.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “She’s blackmailin’ that fat old banker.”
“Why?”
“He robbed his own bank—gave us fake money. He shot his own teller too.”
“You have reached a new high—or maybe I should say low—as a liar.” Lark glared at him. “Why would he want to do that? It doesn’t make any sense.”
He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, flinching. “I told you I didn’t get any money, and now I know Snake didn’t either. Barclay got the money, and we got the blame.”
Lark shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense that he would kill his own teller.”
“It would if the teller saw him switching the money. Lark, he was killed with a shotgun. Neither Snake nor I had a shotgun.”
She recalled the details of that April morning. Larado was right. “Oh my God. Larado, you need to tell the U.S. Marshal.”
He leaned back in the chair and put the coffee cup on the counter. “Oh sure. Do you think anyone would believe me?”
She digested that fact. “Maybe you’re not lying this time.”
“Thanks a whole heap.” He buried his face in his hands and moaned.
“So Dixie is blackmailing him because she knows. That’s a pretty dangerous game. Has he figured out who we are?”
“Who knows?” Larado took another sip of coffee. “In the meantime, they are part of society here in Rusty Spur, and we’re all in a Mexican standoff.”
She shook her head and walked up and down the shop. “I can’t live under that kind of stress.”
“You could always just fold your hand and get out of this poker game.”
She whirled on him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then I wouldn’t be a threat to you.”
He grinned at her. “Or you could just stay here and tease me every night, make my life miserable.”
She drew herself up with dignity. “I do not tease you.”
“Oh, hell, no, you don’t. You’re in my house, in there in my bed every night, and I’m on that hard settee, thinkin’ about you just beyond that door.”
“Well, stop thinking about me and take your business elsewhere, like you did last night.”
He shook his head. “I tried, but somehow, I couldn’t get beyond a few kisses. It ain’t the same for me anymore.”
“I don’t believe a word of it.”
He shrugged. “That don’t make me no never mind, Miss High-and-Mighty.”
Lark glanced up at the clock on the wall. “My, it’s almost lunchtime. If you’ll get your lanky carcass off my chair and out the door, I think I’ll go over to the hotel dining room for a bite.”
He took out his gold pocket watch and held it so close to his face, he was almost cross-eyed. He must be having a difficult time focusing. “Can I go with you?”
“May,” she corrected without thinking. Land’s sake, she was getting more like her prim sister every day.
“Thanks,” he said. He stood up, still a little wobbly on his feet.
“You look too green to eat a bite,” she snapped. “You’d probably throw up on Mrs. Bottoms’s nice carpet.”
“Your concern for my welfare is overwhelmin’.”
“I wasn’t the one who poured all that rotgut down you.”
He seemed a little wobbly still as he went to the door, waiting for her to close it and follow him out onto the wooden sidewalk. Magnolia came around the side of the building and fell in behind them as they walked.
“I don’t know whether you’ve noticed or not, but I think we’re bein’ followed,” he said.
“What?” She whirled and looked at the little animal. “Oh my, not again.”
Larado laughed. “She’ll attract some more strays, and then she’ll have a foal. Next thing you know, you’ll have half a dozen—and nobody much wants them.”
“Well, that isn’t today’s problem. Must you eat dinner with me?”
“Now what would folks say if I didn’t accompany my wife to lunch?”
“Oh, shut up.” She went into the hotel dining room.
Mrs. Bottoms rushed up to them. “Come in. I’ve got a table right by the window where you can watch Main Street.”
Not that there was much happening outside. The hot July wind blew a tumbleweed down the street. Two horses and a buggy were tied up along the row of businesses, and Magnolia was munching the daisies in a window box.
As they went to their table, the room full of diners nodded and spoke to them.
“Hey, Sheriff.”
“Hello, Mrs. Witherspoon.”
“Hey, Sheriff, you gonna shoot in the big match tomorrow?”
Larado shook his head. “Now, as good a shot as I am, it wouldn’t be fair, would it?”
“That’s right,” the blacksmith agreed. “Our sheriff is a dead shot, but a good sportsman.”
They sat down at the table.
Under her breath, Lark said, “Is it against the rules for the sheriff’s wife to enter? I’m a better-than-average shot with a rifle.”
He favored her with a condescending grin. “Now, sweetie, women won’t be shootin’ in the contest.”
“Well, I don’t know why not. I’ll wager I can outshoot most of the men in town.”
“Think about it this way.” He leaned across the table and smiled. “You show up these Texans by outshootin’ them, how many do you think will come into your shop to buy play-pretties for their wives and sisters?”
Lark thought about it. “It shouldn’t be that way, you know. They shouldn’t care if the winner is a man or a woman.”
He grinned. “Easy to say, but you know Texans.”
“I know Texans, all right,” she griped. “You can always tell a Texan, but you can’t tell ’em much.”
He winked at her. “Ain’t it the truth!”
Larado took a deep breath and shook his head. Lark ordered stew.
Mrs. Bottoms was talking a mile a minute as she served them. “You want biscuits or cornbread?”
“Tortillas,” Paco said as he sauntered up, grinning.
“Pull up a chair,” Larado said.
Paco took off his Stetson. “Mrs. Witherspoon?”
“Yes, pull up a chair, Paco.” She was glad she wouldn’t have to talk to Larado the rest of the meal. The stew was savory, hot, and delicious, but Larado looked a little queasy when he looked at it.
“I—I’m not hungry,” he said.
Paco raised his eyebrows.
“Whiskey,” Lark said by way of explanation.
“Oh, sí.” The young man nodded knowingly. “That ain’t like you, boss.”
Larado sighed. “Things ain’t so good at home.”
“Oh?” Paco asked.
She felt the blood rush to her face. “Paco, are you—are you going to take part in the shooting match?”
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 22
