by Bobbi Smith
He blushed at her praise. “I’ll be in my room.”
Tessa watched him disappear up the steps and smiled to herself. Sludge was a very special man. He’d lived at their house for almost a year now, and in all that time he had never caused them one problem. Sludge had always been helpful and courteous, and paid his room and board right on time. Other than the fact that he had no relatives, they knew little about him. He was a quiet giant of a man who kept to himself. The one thing they did know about him was that he loved animals. Certainly David Forsyth, down at the stable, was pleased to have him working for him, for Sludge had a way with horses that was rare.
Heading back into the kitchen, Tessa tried to put all thoughts of Boyd Wilson out of her mind. It was time to start cooking dinner. She hoped her mother and the other boarders, Jim and Henry, returned soon. She needed happy people around her tonight.
Dinner was enjoyable. Tessa did not mention Boyd Wilson’s visit, and she was relieved when Sludge didn’t either. She didn’t want her mother to worry.
Bedtime came too early as far as Tessa was concerned. She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t worried about Boyd, but the man did make her flesh crawl. She knew what he was capable of and would be just delighted if she never saw him again. She was glad, too, that Sarah was far away from him now. The young woman didn’t deserve the torment of being married to someone like him.
When sleep finally claimed Tessa, it was near midnight. Her rest was troubled. Her dreams were jumbled and confusing. She saw visions of Sarah, beaten and desperate, and of Boyd, dominating and cruel.
Tessa frowned in her sleep, wanting to change things, wanting to make things better, yet feeling helpless. Their images faded, and her dream of her own wedding returned. This time, though, it was different. Instead of feeling excited about getting married, Tessa was frightened. Sarah’s story of how Boyd had changed after their wedding haunted her as she walked down the aisle toward the altar and her unseen fiancé. She wondered if the same fate would befall her.
It was that thought that jarred her awake. She got out of bed, her heart pounding. She stood there, staring around the room for a moment, trying to calm herself. When at last she realized it had all just been a dream, she wandered to the window and looked out. The night was dark and peaceful. A gentle, cool breeze stirred the curtains.
“It was just a dream,” she whispered to herself, and then she managed a smile.
Sarah was safe. She had helped her escape a dangerous situation, and by now the young woman was far away from the man who would do her harm. Sarah would be protected by her family in Denver. Sarah would start a new life, and Boyd would never find her. Everything would turn out all right.
Reassured by those thoughts, Tessa went back to bed and curled up under the covers. It was some time later before she finally drifted off again, but when she did, her sleep was deep and dreamless.
“I’m going to kill that bitch!” Boyd Wilson swore violently as he downed another shot of whiskey. He had been in a bad mood when he’d first come into the High Time Saloon, and with each passing drink his mood had worsened. He slammed the empty glass down on the counter and watched as Dan, the bartender, refilled it.
“Calm down, Boyd,” Dan said as he set the whiskey bottle aside and went back to polishing the bar in front of him. “Women are like that. They just like to make men crazy. There’s no reason for you to get so worked up about things.”
“What the hell do you know about any of this? You ain’t never been married!” Boyd snarled, his temper about to explode. His anger and outrage were so great that he was ready to fight anybody—even Dan.
“You don’t have to be married to know women,” Dan told him with a confident smile. He wanted to distract Boyd and keep him from getting violent. He knew, along with everyone else in the High Time, just how nasty things might get if Boyd got out of hand.
Boyd could be one mean bastard, and the last thing they wanted in the saloon was trouble.
Boyd snorted in disgust. “Hell, you don’t know nothing about them until you’re married to them. They ain’t nothing but trouble—always whining and complaining. It’s a miracle I ain’t killed her yet, but I may just do that when I get my hands on her again—and that stupid Sinclair bitch, too!”
Dan stiffened. “Get control of yourself, Wilson. I don’t like it when you make threats. Miss Sinclair is a fine lady. She deserves your respect.”
“Like hell she does! The way she runs around this town, wearing pants and looking like a man? Why, she ain’t nothing but an interfering slut!”
Dan grew even angrier at his insults. “Miss Sinclair’s reputation is spotless. She dresses that way because she owns a mine and has to go inspect it. I don’t know a living soul who has anything but praise for Tessa Sinclair and all the kind things she does to help people out around town.”
“Kind things!” he shouted, on the brink of losing control. “That bitch helped my wife leave town! I’m going to make her pay for that! I’m gonna see to it that she never meddles in anybody else’s life ever again! You just wait and see if I don’t!” He lifted his glass and took a deep drink.
Dan was glad when another customer farther down the bar called out to him. He took his time waiting on the other man, for he was worried and trying to figure out what to do about Boyd. Shorty Dawson, one of his regular customers, came in then, and Dan was relieved. He made his way to the end of the bar to speak with him. When they’d finished talking, Shorty nodded and left. No one paid any attention to his departure, not even Boyd, and that was exactly what Dan had hoped would happen. Dan went back to waiting on his customers, but he kept an eye on Boyd.
Jared was enjoying another quiet evening in town. Sitting at his desk, he was reading the new issue of the Durango Weekly Star and feeling quite satisfied. Things had been so quiet in Durango this week that even Elise Jackson didn’t have an exciting lead story for the paper. He grinned at her piece on the Ladies’ Solidarity and their fundraising efforts. He liked dull—no shooting, no fights, no more stage robberies. The last thought stung, though, for although there had been no new robberies by the gang, he had not been able to learn anything more about them except that the material used for the masks was from bags that some miners used for transporting their ore. It was a clue, but with so many miners in the area, it didn’t narrow down his area of search. The gang was still out there. He was certain of that.
Thoughts of the robbery brought Tessa to mind, and Jared’s easygoing expression turned to a frown. He hadn’t spoken to her since that day at her house, but it seemed she was never far from his thoughts, whether he wanted her to be or not. Certainly the vision of how she’d looked coming down the stairs wearing pants was seared into his memory. Sometimes when he was out around town, checking on stores and businesses, he would hear people talking about her. He never heard anyone say an unkind thing. Those who knew her had nothing but high praise for her acts of kindness and charity. In fact, listening to the gossip was the only way he’d found out what she’d been doing on the stage from Canyon Creek—working at the orphanage. There she’d been, donating her time and, knowing her, no doubt some of her own money, only to be robbed on the way back home. It infuriated him.
“Marshal Trent!”
The man’s shout startled Jared. He was just rising from his desk to see what the trouble was when Shorty Dawson came charging into the office.
“Dan Lesseg needs you down at the High Time!” Shorty told him.
“What’s happening?” Jared asked as he strapped on his gun belt.
“It’s Boyd Wilson. He’s all drunked up and threatening to kill people.”
Jared was disgusted. He’d had run-ins before with Wilson and knew the man was a violent drunk. “Who does he want dead this week?”
“It’s bad, Marshal. His wife left him, and he’s wanting to kill her and Miss Tessa!”
Jared stopped and stared at him. “Tessa Sinclair? Why would he want to hurt her?”
“All Dan
told me was that Wilson’s wife had left him and he was blaming Miss Tessa. We gotta get back there right away. We can’t let anything happen to her!”
“You’re right about that.” Jared growled in frustration. He had warned her to stay out of harm’s way, and here she was in trouble again. He gave a disgusted shake of his head and led the way from the jail, his expression grim. There was no way Boyd Wilson was going to get anywhere near Tessa.
The more Boyd drank, the more frustrated he became. He slammed his empty glass down on the bar again and demanded in a loud, slurred voice, “Gimme another one.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night?” Dan asked. He kept his tone mild. He didn’t want to rile Boyd any more than he already was, but he also didn’t want the man tearing up the saloon when he got too drunk to control himself.
Boyd was mean when he was sober, but he was even meaner when he was drunk. In a quick, violent move, Boyd surged across the bar and grabbed Dan by the front of his shirt. He jerked the bartender forcefully to him, smiling evilly at his startled expression.
Silence suddenly reigned in the saloon.
“Look, you stupid son of a bitch,” Boyd said to Dan in a growl. “I said I want another drink! Get it for me or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?”
At the sound of Marshal Trent’s voice, Boyd went still.
“What the . . . ?” Boyd didn’t ease his fierce grip on Dan’s shirt. He just looked over his shoulder. He was shocked to see the tall, powerful lawman standing right behind him. Marshal Trent’s stance was determined, his expression fierce.
“What the hell are you doing here, Trent?” he said with a sneer.
“I heard you were stirring things up here at the High Time, so I thought I’d drop in and see what was going on. Looks like I didn’t get here any too soon. Let Dan go, Boyd, now.” Jared’s tone was commanding and brooked no argument.
“I don’t think so,” Boyd answered, giving the lawman a sarcastic half grin. He wasn’t in the mood to have anyone tell him what to do. He was too furious with all that had happened in his life. He wanted to get his hands on his slut of a wife and that Sinclair bitch. He would start with Dan just because Dan was there, and he would work his way through town until he got to Tessa Sinclair. He was going to make her real sorry that she’d crossed him—real sorry. “I kinda like seeing him so scared, don’t you?”
“I don’t like anybody being scared in my town,” Jared said. “Let him go.”
Boyd released Dan, and the bartender backed quickly out of reach. Boyd still didn’t turn around to face the marshal. Instead, he ignored him and picked up his glass. He took another drink, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Let’s get you out of here and sober you up,” Jared told him, not trusting Boyd’s quiet manner. He knew too much about him to believe he would give up that easily.
“I’m not botherin’ anybody, marshal. I’m just enjoyin’ a drink here at the bar.” He was fighting to keep his anger at the lawman’s interference from showing. He didn’t need Jared Trent sticking his nose in his business.
“That isn’t what I heard, Boyd. I heard you’ve been threatening to kill people—like your wife and Miss Sinclair.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out, looking up at Dan with hate-filled eyes, knowing the bartender had been the one to send for the law.
“Well, let’s just take a walk outside and talk about it,” Jared ordered.
“There ain’t nothing to talk about. I didn’t mean nothing by it.”
“I don’t like that kind of talk. Threats are serious business. Now, come on outside with me, and there won’t be any trouble.”
Boyd had been growing angrier and angrier with every passing minute. It had been bad enough to have been frustrated at every turn trying to find out where Sarah had gone, but having Marshal Trent trying to boss him around was just too much. When the lawman clamped a hand down on his shoulder to turn him around, Boyd exploded. He pivoted and attacked full-force, swinging out at the marshal in fury.
Jared knew all about Boyd’s temper, and he was ready when the drunk came at him. He dodged Boyd’s fist and landed a solid hit to the other man’s jaw. Boyd was stunned by the force of his blow, and, for an instant, he let his defenses down. That hesitation allowed Jared to hit him twice more, knocking him to the floor.
Jared drew his gun and stood over Boyd. Jared’s manner was deceptively calm as he looked over at the others standing at the bar.
“I could use a little help getting him to the jail.”
“Yes, sir. Marshal Trent!”
Two men quickly came to his aid. Each man grabbed Boyd by an arm and together they dragged him out of the saloon.
Jared looked up at Dan. “Thanks for letting me know about this. I’ve had too much experience with him in the past to let things go. When he starts making threats, it’s time to do something.”
“I know. I’ve seen him in action too many times, too,” Dan agreed. In fact, there was a time some months ago, when the saloon’s owners had thrown him out. “Sam and Fernanda have told him to stay away.”
“Why did you let him back?”
“He managed to convince Sam and Fernanda that he could control himself, and they liked the color of his money,” Dan explained with a pained smile.
“What got him so fired up about Tessa Sinclair?”
“Evidently Sarah went to Miss Tessa after Boyd beat her up the last time, and Miss Tessa helped her get out of town.”
Jared’s eyes hardened at the news. “I see,” he said tightly. “So his wife finally got smart and left, and he’s blaming it on Tessa.”
“That’s right.”
Jared nodded. “Thanks for your help.”
“I appreciate your coming so fast. Drinks are on the house for you whenever you’ve got time to stop in.”
“I’ll be taking you up on that real soon, Dan.”
With that, Jared quit the High Time. His mood was black as he followed the two men who were dragging Boyd to the jail. It wouldn’t be pretty when the drunk came around, but he didn’t care. At least for the time being, Boyd would be safely locked up where he couldn’t hurt anybody. That was all that mattered for now.
“Thanks, boys,” Jared told the two men after they’d deposited Boyd in the cell and he’d locked the door.
“Glad we could help out,” they replied as they headed back to the saloon to finish their drinks.
When they’d gone, Jared settled back in at his desk. His expression was dark as he thought about Tessa Sinclair. A vision of the auburn-haired beauty danced before him, and he scowled even more. Damn that woman! Didn’t she know what was good for her? He understood that she felt it was her duty to help the less fortunate, but now she’d gone and put herself in danger again. It was time he had another long talk with Miss Tessa.
Jared paused as vivid memories of his father’s death besieged him. He knew firsthand what happened to people when they tried to help those in need. His father had been shot dead, murdered for trying to go to a beaten and injured drunk’s aid.
Jared feared a similar fate would befall Tessa if she kept up the way she was going. A surge of protectiveness filled him. He could not, would not, stand idly by and let anything happen to her. He’d made a vow to himself a long time ago to stop men like Boyd, and he meant to keep it.
Swearing under his breath, too agitated to sit still, Jared got up and began to pace the room. He’d stopped Boyd for tonight, but what about in the morning, when he had to let him go? How could he be sure Boyd wouldn’t go after Tessa? How could he protect Tessa from Boyd every minute of every day? The thought of Boyd’s hands on Tessa filled him with fury. She was a lady and deserved to be treated as such. He hoped that once Boyd sobered up, he would see reason. Knowing Boyd the way he did, though, Jared doubted it.
Jared raked a hand through his hair as he stared out the office window at the dark, deserted street. He liked it deserted. D
eserted meant it was a quiet night in town, and that suited him just fine right now. Boyd had been trouble enough for one night.
Chapter Six
Jared glared at Boyd Wilson as the man stood arrogantly and defiantly before him in the marshal’s office the next morning. Since Boyd had sobered up, Jared had no legal reason to keep him locked up any longer, and Boyd knew it.
“I don’t want to hear any more about you threatening people, Boyd.” Jared’s harsh tone left no doubt about the seriousness of his words.
“Don’t worry, you won’t,” Boyd answered, meeting his gaze and fighting to keep from smirking. There would be no more threats and no more talk. It was time for him to do something about what had happened. It was time for action.
“Good. Now get out of here.”
Boyd left the office, smiling to himself as he went. He wondered where the Sinclair bitch was and what she was doing. He was tempted to go after her right away, but decided to hold off and wait for just the right moment to have his revenge.
And he would claim his revenge.
There was no doubt about that.
Jared shook his head in disgust as he watched Boyd walk away. Boyd Wilson was trouble—he always had been and he always would be. Jared didn’t believe for one minute that Boyd was through with Tessa or his wife. He knew from past experience that he was one dangerous man, and he was going to have to keep a close watch on him.
Turning back to his desk, Jared settled in and tried to clear off some of the paperwork that had piled up there. For all his efforts, though, he accomplished little. His thoughts were on Boyd and the threat he represented to Tessa. He knew he’d better speak with her, and the sooner, the better, though it was still relatively early in the day.
Jared got up from his desk and quit the office. His mood was not pleasant as he strode through the streets of Durango. He would rather have confronted a bunch of drunks in a barroom brawl than deal with Tessa, but there could be no avoiding it. He had to warn her about what had happened last night with Boyd.
“Mornin’, Marshal Trent,” one shopkeeper greeted him as he passed by.
