by Claudia Dain
"That's ridiculous. How is Mr. Powell going to make a profit if he refuses to let out his stock?"
"Said he figured that Jack Skull would kill any animal he sat on."
"Ridiculous."
"Wait, it gets better," Sarah said. "Skull practically had to beat it out of Powell to get the name of anyone in Abilene who'd sell him a horse. Powell eventually coughed up Emma Walton."
"He hit Mr. Powell?" She needed him for her plan, but she didn't want to hitch up with anyone as violent as that. Not even for a day or two. No matter how he looked.
"Emma hid her kids on the porch as if the Apache had come to visit," Sarah went on, not to be derailed in what was a fine story, no matter how much truth there was to it, "and when Jack Skull looked ready to throw a couple of them off the porch just for sport, she agreed to sell him Joe, tack and all."
"I can't believe that he would tangle with a child," Anne murmured.
"Then he parades that horse down through the center of town like the governor himself, not a trace of guilt to the tips of his fingers, and holes up with Charles Lane. And speaking of his fingertips," Sarah said, turning to face Anne fully, "you didn't say what a handsome man he was, Anne. He's a sight. Why'd you let a man like that walk clean away without a tussle from you?"
A man like that? According to Aunt Sarah, he had beaten Mr. Powell, threatened to throw innocent children around, intimidated Emma Walton, and was unconcerned about the whole matter. So he was handsome. Lots of men were handsome. Bill was handsome, though in a different way. Jack Skull was rougher, though his features were finer, more cleanly cut, and his eyes the soft blue of a hazy summer sky. And the way he'd looked at her, as if she were the only person in the world he wanted to be looking at, as if he'd come to Abilene just to find her.
Anne shook herself mentally. He was rough. His hair was long and tangled, his clothes dusty, and his expression forbidding. That's what he looked like and his manners were made to match. Tangled. Dusty. Frightening.
He was not the sort to stay in Abilene, which made him just about perfect.
"So he's still in town?" Anne asked as she and Sarah left the platform.
"For now," Sarah said with a knowing look. "But he's bought a horse; that must mean he plans to use it."
"He might have checked into the hotel, though."
"He might have."
Sarah couldn't shake the smile that shadowed her lips and gave up trying after a while; there was little enough to smile about in her life. She might as well enjoy the sensation. If Anne was taken with the good-looking bounty hunter, it wouldn't do her any harm; besides, he didn't seem as ornery as folks made him out. And he was such a pretty man. Why, if she wasn't an old woman, she might try to corral him herself.
"It was kind of him to give Emma money for her horse; she surely needs it," Anne said as she casually looked up and down the street.
"Well, he bought the horse, Anne; it wasn't a donation."
"Still..." Anne looked into the window of the Demorest Restaurant. He wasn't there.
"Still?"
"It's just that... he can't be as bad as people say. No one could be that mean. People just like to talk."
"You're the one who saw him push that man from the train. I only saw him lead a horse he'd just bought. And that was bad enough."
"Was he cruel to the horse?" Anne asked, stopping to look at Sarah.
"No, there's just something about the man, beyond his pretty face, that makes you pause. Still"—Sarah took a deep breath to feed her resolve—"he's a comely man and sure to leave town. You could do worse. And to tell you the truth, I think half of what they're saying about him is empty talk to pass long hours. I looked him over good and proper; he don't have the look of a killer. Just don't think he's more than he is and you'll save yourself some hurt."
"I won't," Anne promised absently, resuming her stride.
* * *
The Cattlemen's Hotel was the only hotel left in Abilene; it was also on the edge of town, as far away from the grumbling humanity of Abilene as he could get and still stay in Abilene. The exterior was shingled and painted, the porch shady and well swept, the glass dusty. The interior was worn but respectable with red carpet and one tufted chair in the small lobby. He'd seen a dozen hotels just like it. His reception was exactly what he was learning to expect.
"And you wish to stay how long?"
"As long as it takes," Jack said, his throat hoarse.
It was clearly not an answer that pleased the proprietor.
"I will require some information as to the duration of your stay. You are not our only patron."
Jack looked around. He couldn't hear another person. The lobby was empty. The porch was empty. Jack looked at the man behind the counter and kept his silence. The man behind the counter developed a twitch underneath his left eye.
"Here's a week in advance. I'll let you know if I'm staying longer."
The proprietor held his tongue. It was a good thing.
Jack had just about had it with Abilene and her prickly residents.
He climbed the angled stairs that led to the second floor; the sixth one creaked. He would remember that. His room was on the north side of the building, facing the street. There were two windows, a bed, a washstand, and a rack for his clothes. It was a respectable room; the bedding looked clean and, better yet, smelled fresh. He turned around and locked the door and headed back out to buy supplies for his trip onto the prairie. He'd be leaving in an hour at worst. He was eager to go; there was no point in dawdling around in an unfriendly town when all the excitement was happening elsewhere.
He had a murderer to catch.
He crashed into the little Samaritan on the stairs first.
It was on the sixth stair, the one that creaked. His arms wrapped around her torso, steadying them both. Her hair, as dark as prairie earth, got in his mouth. She smelled like flowers.
It all rolled over him in the space of a breath and then he let her go, holding on to her elbows just long enough to be sure that she was firmly on her feet. He let go and backed up, up to the seventh stair, the one that didn't creak. He had to back up from her because all he wanted to do was keep pressing her down until her back was to the floor and her skirts were over her head. He'd never wanted a girl like that, so hard and so fast, not in his whole life. He didn't want to feel that way now. He didn't want to feel that way ever.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he growled, tipping his hat, using the brim to cover his eyes.
"No, I... excuse me," she said, her voice as soft as rainwater.
Her bosom rose as she spoke and he couldn't help watching the rise and fall. Then he felt like hell because he couldn't leave her alone, even with his eyes. She blocked him on the stair; if she didn't move aside, he'd have to brush against her to get down and out of the hotel. And he had to get out. He had to get away from her before he kissed her to the soles of her feet without even knowing her name.
"Ma'am?" he mumbled, urging her to get out of his way.
"Hmmm?"
She was staring at him, he could feel it, though she remained unmoving except for her breast, rising and falling. The urge to touch her was mounting in him and he felt a twinge of panic that he hadn't felt in twenty years. He couldn't have her. She was proper. Off his range.
He looked up and saw what he knew he'd see. She was looking at him, her light blue eyes unblinking, her mouth soft and open, the pulse in her throat beating visibly.
She stared at him, her gaze moving all over his face, taking in his untamed hair, his two-day growth of beard, his hungry eyes. She took it all in and stood there, looking softer by the second.
It was the chilly cough of the proprietor of the Cattlemen's Hotel that broke the moment. Jack was thankful for the intrusion. She turned toward the sound and he bolted down the stairs and out the door. He left her behind on the sixth stair.
Claudia graduated from the University of Southern California with a BA in English. While there she became a member of Alpha Ph
i, one of the oldest sororities in America. A two-time Rita finalist, she has won numerous writing awards and honors since her first novel was published in 2000. She has lived for most of her life in Los Angeles, called Connecticut home for a decade, and currently lives in North Carolina with her husband.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Author's Note
Excerpt: The Willing Wife
Excerpt: A Kiss to Die For
Meet Claudia Dain
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Author's Note
Excerpt: The Willing Wife
Excerpt: A Kiss to Die For
Meet Claudia Dain
