“No, that had nothing to do with it,” she said. “Jack’s wife lost her mind when their child was born dead. He placed her in an insane asylum and saw that she was well cared for, but he couldn’t divorce her.”
Her respect for the man grew.
“My husband was brutal.” She looked Maggie dead in the eyes. “I ran away from him after the last beating. Jack found me and took me in. When he asked me to leave with him on a European tour, I agreed and never looked back.”
“Did you ever regret it?”
“Never.” She sighed and shook her head. “It just ended far too soon.”
This time Maggie couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What happened?”
“He came down with pneumonia. We were on our way to San Francisco, but he was so ill we got off the train so he could see a doctor.” She lowered her head, and her fingers tightened on the trunk lid again. “Two days later he was dead.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.
“Without Jack, I didn’t want to perform anymore. I just wanted to find a place to hide from the world and grow old.”
Maggie looked around the attic, guessing this was the ideal place for that. It seemed such a waste.
Mrs. Gant laid a hand over Maggie’s. “You’re wise to get out of town with Dade, but don’t lock yourself away from life. Don’t turn away from a good man just because of what one bad one has done to you.”
Sage words of advice, no doubt. But for Maggie, it wasn’t that simple. Mrs. Gant didn’t know just how much was at stake between Harlan Nowell and Whit Ramsey.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” she said.
“Good. Now go try on that skirt.” She stood before the trunk, seeming in no hurry to return to the living quarters.
Maggie hesitated a moment, then left Mrs. Gant standing in front of the trunk that held a lifetime of beautiful memories. What would it be like to experience such love just once?
She had the chance to find out, she reasoned, as she slipped into her room. One month of traveling with Dade.
It was wrong. It was risky. But she wanted him to take her in his arms again. She wanted his kisses and more.
The longing only grew as she exchanged her day skirt for the split one. It fit perfectly. It felt wickedly freeing.
She’d not be encumbered with petticoats and the like with this skirt. Perhaps she should rid herself of the mores that weighed her down as well.
She went to the window and gazed out on the town where she’d found refuge. She’d had a taste of an innocent affection with Lester Emery.
There was nothing innocent about the emotions she felt for the present man behind the badge.
A reflection from below caught her eye. She looked down at Dade Logan.
He shifted his stance and light bounced off the star pinned on his vest. He stood on the walk, looking up at her room. Looking up at her.
Though she couldn’t see his eyes, a bolt of awareness went through her. There was no denying they were drawn to one another.
She rested her hands on the windowsill, unable–or was it unwilling–to break eye contact. Surely she was being bold staring at him so. But hearing Mrs. Gant’s story made her realize how short life could be.
Maggie had pushed Dade away earlier out of fear–not because of what he’d do, but of what she ached to have him do.
The next time Dade Logan reached for her, she’d not pull away from him. She’d welcome him into her life and her bed.
Chapter 11
Dade strode into the house and up the stairs, taking each one slowly and deliberately. In the six months he’d lived here he’d never veered from taking a direct path from the door to the dining room to his own room.
Not today.
He paused at the landing and splayed his fingers on the smooth banister. Besides the grandfather clock ticking away the seconds in the foyer, there wasn’t another sound to be heard.
Good. He’d just as soon nobody was around when he spoke with Maggie.
He climbed the stairs with the same unhurried gait, the worn carpet runner muffling his steps. At the top, he turned left toward the front of the house. Toward Maggie’s room.
Her door, and the one to the empty room beside it, were closed. But he knew she was in there.
Dade rapped his knuckles on her door once, then reached for the knob. To his surprise it opened.
Maggie stood by the window bathed in afternoon light that shot gold through her honey-colored hair. She returned his perusal with the same openness as she had before.
His throat felt suddenly dry. He swallowed anyway and proceeded to inform her of the news.
“The U.S. Marshal arrived this afternoon by way of Colorado Springs,” he said. “Claims Lionel Payne sent a telegram to him for help, seeing as an outlaw’s son was the sheriff here.”
“How dare he make such a derogatory assumption,” she said, her fervor surprising and pleasing him.
He smiled, feeling oddly warm inside. It’d been a long while since anyone had stood up for him.
“It’s Payne’s right to believe what he will,” he said. “As for the marshal, he’s just doing his job.”
She rubbed her arms and stepped away from the window. For the first time he noticed she wore one of the straight plain skirts he’d seen ranch women wear of late. Noticed too the way it nipped in at her waist, flared over her womanly hips, and fell in gentle folds to her feet.
“So what is the marshal going to do?” she asked, drawing his attention back to why he’d come up here.
“Nothing he can do,” he said. “He did impart news about Allis Carson. Seems he was hauling my uncles to Denver for the reward.”
“But he’ll return to Placid,” she said.
He nodded. “Marshal figures Allis Carson will head back here tomorrow. I’m thinking he’ll do it sooner if he can.”
The color left her face. “We have to get out of here.”
“Before dawn.”
She took a shaky breath, no doubt fretting about setting off riding when she’d only been on a horse once. “I’m nearly packed.”
“Good. One other thing. You know how to handle a gun?”
He hadn’t thought she could get any paler, but right now her face looked colorless. He took a step toward her, fearing she was about to swoon.
“No,” she said, her voice so small he barely heard.
Damn! “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of guns too.”
“All right, I won’t.”
Just what he didn’t want to hear. He didn’t have time to teach her how to shoot, and he couldn’t trust her to keep a sidearm on her for fear she’d shoot herself, her horse, or him.
“We’ll get you used to one in a day or so.”
The tight set of her narrow shoulders relaxed a smidgen. “How long will it take us to get to Kansas?”
“Longer than usual,” he said. “I told the marshal I was taking my sister to Maverick, Wyoming. So we’ll head north out of here until we find a trail that we can take east.”
The lips he longed to possess again parted. “We’re riding toward Denver? Toward Allis Carson who is on his way here?”
“Folks will see us head that way, and when the marshal tells Carson I’m taking you to Wyoming, he will be obliged to follow.”
She rubbed her arms and paced to the other window, and he took a step toward her before bringing himself up short. Now wasn’t the time to try to comfort her.
“We stand a chance of riding right into the bounty hunter,” she said.
No hysterics or pleading, just rational fact. He damn sure appreciated that about her.
“That’s why we’re leaving before dawn. By the time the sun is up, we’ll be on the trail that’ll angle us east again.”
“Why can’t we leave now?” she asked, her eyes sparking with fear.
“You need your rest tonight,” he said.
She crossed to him and stared him down. “I can’t afford
the leisure of res
t, not when I need to get away from here before that bounty hunter returns.”
Dammit, she was right, and he’d already seen that their provisions were at the livery, ready to stow on the pack-horse. They could reach the trail and find a spot to camp for the night well before darkness fell. But they’d have to move soon.
“I have to meet with Mayor Willis before we leave.” He fingered the tin star and felt a moment’s hesitation over handing it and the safety of this town into the hands of such a young man.
“How long will that take?” she asked.
“Thirty minutes at the most.” He’d already stowed what he owned in his saddlebags.
“I’ll ask Mrs. Gant to prepare us a basket dinner and meet you at the livery.”
He pointed to her satchel. “If you’re done packing I’ll take it now.”
She gave her clothes a critical look, and he hoped she wasn’t one to spend hours deciding what to wear. They’d not have that luxury traveling the routes he aimed to take. Hell, there’d likely be days when she’d be obliged to wear the same clothes night and day.
“This will do,” she said at last.
Still she went around the room opening drawers and the wardrobe, likely checking to ensure she hadn’t left anything behind. She made to close her satchel.
“Take a wrap,” he said. “Soon as the sun sets the temperature will drop. I don’t aim to unpack our provisions until we set up camp for the night.”
Maggie nodded and dug through the satchel again. She pulled out a short jacket that looked more fashionable than serviceable, but it was clear the lady didn’t own anything suitable for rough traveling. Nothing, that is, except the riding skirt that hugged her behind when she bent just so.
Yep, that wasn’t bustle or padding of any sort. Just firm, rounded womanly flesh.
He took the satchel she’d secured again and backed to her door. The tightness that settled below his belt was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
“I’ll meet you at the livery,” he said, and hightailed it before his discomfort became obvious.
Focusing on what he had to do in short order doused any lingering desire. He fetched his saddlebags and bounded down the steps.
But instead of heading out the door, he ducked into the kitchen. As expected Mrs. Gant was at the stove.
He set down his bundle, reached into his vest pocket for the money he’d counted out earlier, and handed it to her. “Much obliged for all you did for me over the winter.”
Mrs. Gant fingered the wad of greenbacks. “There’s more here than needed.”
“Keep it. We’re leaving today.”
She stared at him a good long time. “You’re a good man, Dade Logan. Take care of yourself and your sister. See that your past doesn’t ruin your future.”
He smiled at that. “Maybe it isn’t my past that’s casting a pall over things.”
“I think you both have ghosts,” she said. “Most folks do.”
It was what a person did with them that made the difference. He brushed two fingers over his hat brim and left the boardinghouse.
He squinted up at the sun that was dipping toward the horizon. It shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes to get things squared away with Mayor Willis.
If they could get on the road then, they’d have three hours of good light left before they had to make camp. That’d get them far enough off the trail so they could find a place to hole up for the night.
Just him and Maggie.
He blew out a rough breath. It could be one helluva long night for him.
Twenty minutes later, Dade stood in the jail with his arms crossed and his temper simmering at a slow boil. Mayor Willis had wasted no time coming to the jail to relieve Dade of his duty, give him his severance pay, and swear in the deputy under the watchful eye of Marshal Tavish.
The whole thing shouldn’t have taken more than ten minutes to complete. But somehow Payne got wind that a new sheriff was about to get sworn in and barged in to give his two cents, which with a banker’s inflation cost twice as much time and wasn’t worth the air it took for Payne to spew it out.
In short, Lionel Payne was an obnoxious son of a bitch.
“I maintain it is highly suspicious that Logan chooses now to leave town,” Payne said.
“What in blazes are you getting at?” the mayor asked.
“The robbery. Logan is curiously absent the one day outlaws ride into town. Why, for all we know he intends to meet up with his father as planned and divide his take of the money.”
“Be careful what you accuse a man of,” Dade said.
Payne took a step back from Dade, his gaze slewing to the marshal’s in what looked like mock fear. “Did you hear that? He threatened me.”
“Didn’t sound that way to me,” Tavish said. “But then I’m not the one trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.”
Payne’s florid face purpled. “His father is an outlaw. The same outlaw who rode into town and robbed my bank. Had I caught the connection in his name six months ago, I would have refused to accept him as our sheriff.”
“It wasn’t your sole decision to make,” the mayor said.
Shit, at the rate they were going, they’d argue the night away. Dade had had more than enough.
He tossed his tin star on the desktop. “Do what you wish with it. I’m moving on.”
“You can’t let him just ride off,” Payne told the marshal.
“There’s no reason to hold the man,” Marshal Tavish said, which made Payne grump all the more.
“He’s a Logan!”
“He’s done nothing wrong,” the marshal said.
“We knew from the start that Dade would leave once he found his sister,” Mayor Willis said as he handed Dade an envelope. “Now that he and Daisy have been reunited, that day has come.”
Dade stared at his last pay as sheriff, then did a quick thumb through the greenbacks to ensure it was all here. It was, plus a few dollars more.
He folded the envelope in half and stuffed it in his pocket. “Thank you, mayor.”
Dade crossed to the gun rack and grabbed his rifle. The banker fumbled in his coat pocket and produced a Derringer.
“Come closer, and I’ll shoot,” Payne said, sweat beading on his brow.
“Put the gun down,” Tavish said, but the banker seemed frozen to the spot.
So was Dade. Last thing he wanted was to get shot. But he wasn’t about to waste time here either at the whim of the banker.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dade caught a blur of movement. A heartbeat later the banker’s Derringer clattered to the floor.
Duane leveled his rifle on the banker, who’d gone white around the gills. “I won’t hold with trouble in my town, Mr. Payne. You, sir, are causing trouble.”
“If I’m right–” Payne began.
“You’re not,” Dade finished, and gained a nod of agreement from the mayor. He scooped up the Derringer and handed it to the marshal. “Swear in the deputy. He’ll serve this town right.”
The ghost of a smile played over Tavish’s face. He nodded to Willis. The mayor wasted no time making Duane the new sheriff of Placid, Colorado.
Dade gave the room one last glance and walked out the door. A mountain of worry lifted off his shoulders then and there.
He was Dade Logan again, and the only thing he’d sworn to do was find Daisy. And keep Maggie Sutten safe.
The last could take every bit of cunning he possessed. He settled his hat on and started down the boardwalk with his senses tuned to trouble, just like he had every time he’d made his rounds the past six months.
Nothing seemed off. Folks went about their business like they always had. A few paused to nod at him. Some just stared. He wondered if the town was divided in their loyalties with some backing the banker and some firmly on Mayor Willis’s side.
Not that it mattered now. When the bounty hunter arrived tomorrow or the next day, he’d no doubt get an earful from Lionel Payne.
But he’
d also get a sane version of why Dade had left town and his destination. He just hoped to hell that the man believed it and set out for Maverick.
The time it would take Allis Carson to get there and realize he’d been had would put that much more distance between them. It wouldn’t be easy picking up their trail then.
Yep, only one person knew that wasn’t so. Doc surely wouldn’t do or say anything to jeopardize Maggie’s safety. He couldn’t see Mrs. Gant sharing her suspicions with Carson.
But then, he’d been wrong before about the brother he’d trusted with his life. Even Trey hadn’t bothered to look Dade up in well over a year. Sad to say he wouldn’t know where to begin looking for Trey March.
He strode past the saloon and lifted his gaze to the livery at the edge of town. Maggie stood right outside the big doors talking with the blacksmith, giving her full attention to the man who likely reeked of sweat and hot steel.
She was as composed and fetching as ever. A hat that was more stylish than practical covered her wealth of hair and barely–just barely–shaded her face.
He wanted to kick his ass right here and now for not thinking of what the sun would do to that delicate skin after riding all day. Now that he had, there was only one recourse left to him.
Dade backtracked to the general store and pushed open the door to the tinkling of a bell. The owner perked up at the sound and came toward Dade, a smile wreathing his face.
“Afternoon, sheriff,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
Time was just too valuable to waste explaining he wasn’t the sheriff any longer. He had jingle in his pocket and an item to purchase as quickly as possible.
“I need a hat for Ma–, my sister,” he said.
The old man scratched his mutton chop whiskers. “The missus usually sees to the women’s frippery and such.” He glanced at the feminine side of the store with what Dade could only call repulsion. “You know what your sister wants?”
Long gone out of here, he reckoned. “She needs a wide brimmed hat that’ll shade her face.”
“Let’s see what we got.” He ambled into the ladies’ section of the store and led Dade straight to the hats. “See anything there you want?”
In a Cowboy’s Arms Page 15
