Claudia Dain

by A Kiss To Die For

  "You mean he actually kissed her? At the depot?"

  "Full on the mouth and held her arms down to do it," Powell relayed with immense satisfaction. One would think he had done the kissing himself. "Not a thing she could do about it, what with him forcing himself and being a killer and all."

  "Did he... did he threaten her?"

  "Well, I don't think he asked her pardon, do you? He took his time about it, crowding her, touching her, then kissing her like he'd be about it till Sunday service rolled around. Poor gal couldn't do a thing to stop him. She saw that murdered gal, same as the rest of us. She saw what happens to women what say no to a man determined."

  That was true. And Jack Skull had shown up just about the time as that murdered girl, who was also pretty and dark of hair. Just like Anne. Just like her Lillian.

  Dr. Carr walked onto the boardwalk from the boot maker's just ahead and Emma remembered that she had been on an errand to see him and that she was holding Joel by the hand. It was just horrible the way the thought of Jack Skull intruded, threatening the normal course of life. She should never have sold him that horse, no matter how much she needed the money.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Powell, but there's Doc Carr now and I must have him take a look at Joel."

  "Shore," he said, tipping his hat and continuing on down to the livery. He didn't have much more to say anyhow.

  Emma hurried down the boardwalk, the rising wind pushing at her skirts and threatening the security of her hat, but she persisted until she caught up to Doc Carr at the door to his office. In no time, Joel was sitting in a chair that faced the light coming from the window and opening his mouth for the doctor and all the world to see. Only the doc looked.

  "A little red, he's congested, nothing serious. Keep him quiet, give him apple cider vinegar and honey in warm water every two hours while he's awake." Joel suddenly felt very sleepy; he could hardly keep his eyes open. He hoped his ma was watching. "He should be fine in a few days." Joel's hand moved of its own accord up to his nose. "And get him a handkerchief." Joel's hand crept back down as his mother flushed her embarrassment. He sniffed, loudly.

  "That's a relief," Emma Walton said, opening her reticule to pull out her pennies. Others might pay in poultry, but she had been taught better by her folks. Besides, she had the money Jack Skull had paid for Joe. "I have so much troubling me right now that I'm afraid I couldn't stand another burden."

  "Oh?" A lot of weight rested on that one word. They both stopped to let it settle in the air between them. Joel sniffed.

  "You've heard about what happened at the depot this morning." It was not a question.

  He had heard something at the boot maker's, but it had been garbled and rushed, besides being unbelievable. He had the time now to listen to a fuller tale and Mrs. Walton was the sort of woman to have her facts about her.

  "No, I've had a rather busy day so far. What happened?"

  Joel slouched in his chair in preparation for a long wait. Since only apple cider vinegar and warm water waited at home, he was content to sit where he was.

  "You know that Jack Skull, the bounty hunter, is in town."

  "I do," he said in clipped tones.

  "Oh, that's right, you went out with him to find the dead girl's folks. How did that go?"

  "Just fine," he said. He wasn't going to give information when he was supposed to be getting it.

  Sensing she was losing a sympathetic ear, Emma continued. "Well, this morning, when Anne Ross went to meet the Topeka train, Jack Skull attacked her. Right on the platform."

  Doc Carr picked up his bag and stood up hurriedly. "Attacked her how? Did she lose consciousness? Why didn't anyone come for me? I should have been there. She'll need me," he said in a rushed mumble.

  "No, not that way," she said quickly. "He held her arms so that she couldn't fight him off and then he kissed her full on the mouth."

  Malcolm Carr sank slowly into his chair and let his bag rest on the floor near his feet.

  "He kissed her," he repeated. "Was John Campbell there?"

  "Isn't he always?"

  "And he did nothing?"

  Emma shrugged. "Against Jack Skull?"

  "Where's Anne now?" He was rising to his feet again, the color coming back to his face.

  "At home, I would think. The next train's not due in till four."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Walton," he said, all business again. "As I said, Joel will be fine in a few days. Don't forget the apple cider vinegar."

  "Of course not," she said, rising to her feet. The doctor rose with her and held the door as they passed through. Joel sniffed.

  Malcolm Carr put a sign on his door saying he'd be back in thirty minutes and then left the office. He went straight to the sheriff's.

  The door was open. Wind was blowing dust into the room so that the air was golden with it. Nobody paid it much mind.

  "Have you heard about what happened—"

  "Heard it five times already, Doc. Don't need to hear it a sixth."

  Sheriff Lane got up from his chair and grabbed the broom from the corner. The floor was developing little piles of sand. He used the broom to prop open the door, which was starting to swing in the wind.

  "Have you arrested him?"

  "Arrested him?" Lane looked at the doctor as he sat back down in his chair and tilted the front legs off the floor. "For kissing a girl?"

  "But Anne is—"

  "Don't matter who the girl is. Kissing's not a crime."

  "But Anne—"

  "Didn't put up a fight. In my book, that means she was willing."

  Carr placed his hands on the desk and leaned toward the sheriff, his expression grim and determined.

  "Did it occur to you that she might have been too afraid to resist him? There is a dead girl lying in my back room being readied for burial. Anne saw that woman, hell, the whole town did, when that bounty hunter brought her in. Don't you suppose that Anne might have been thinking that she'd get more of the same if she put up a fight?"

  "You think he would have killed her, right there at the depot with the Topeka train sitting there and John Campbell watching like a bird dog, if she had turned from his kiss? Is that what you think?"

  "I don't know what the man is capable of, but I do know that he kissed Anne Ross in broad daylight!" Malcolm roared.

  "And by all accounts, she kissed him back," Lane said quietly. "Look, Malcolm, I don't like this any more than you do. Not this man and this girl, but I can't arrest a man for kissing. Not even when it's Anne."

  Malcolm ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I don't like it."

  "You and everybody else in town." Lane smiled lightly, easing the tension. The doc was plenty agitated. "I will have a talk with him, if that helps. Pass that around, if you would."

  "Fine."

  "Thank you, Doc."

  Carr didn't answer as he walked out the door; he had spent all his energy in anger and outrage. Sarah brushed past him, coming in just as he was leaving. Malcolm tipped his hat and kept moving, content, for the moment, to let Lane handle the situation.

  Sarah walked in, adjusting her gloves as she came, a victorious light in her eyes.

  "Good afternoon to you, Charles," she said, smiling. "I thought you might be wanting to talk with someone from the family about now."

  "You know," he said.

  "Me and everyone else," she said, sitting down with her back to the open door. The wind blew the ribbons that trailed from her bonnet; she ignored them and kept her eyes on Sheriff Lane.

  "Then you know what's being said, that Jack forced himself on her and that she was afraid to resist him... that he kissed her... publicly."

  "No one disputes that he kissed her... publicly," she said calmly, the trace of a smile on the edges of her mouth. "I don't believe she was either forced or fearful."

  Lane leaned forward in his chair, banging the front legs down onto the floor and raising a small dust cloud. "You sure about that, Sarah? Did Anne tell you that?"

>   "Anne didn't have to tell me, Charles. I have eyes."

  "What does that mean? Are you saying that he's been hanging around her?"

  "I'm saying that he's a fine-looking man. I'm saying that Anne's of marrying age," Sarah stopped and smiled fully. "I'm saying that Jack Skull is a man who knows how to commence a courting."

  "A courting," Lane repeated. "What did you two talk about over your apple pie, Sarah?"

  Sarah smiled and shrugged.

  "Did you say something to set Jack on Anne's trail?"

  Sarah smiled and removed one glove, a finger at a time.

  "Are you saying that you encouraged Jack to court Anne, that he had your approval?"

  "We talked. He's a nice enough man, no matter his profession."

  "You set a bounty hunter on to your niece?" Lane's voice was rising noticeably with each question.

  "I don't appreciate your tone, Charles, and I don't see what business it is of yours or of the rest of this town. Who Anne sees, and marries, is her own affair."

  Stunned, Charles looked at Sarah for a few moments, studying her composure, which was complete, and her face, which was relaxed. She slowly removed the other glove and set the pair of them in her lap.

  "Does Miss Daphne know?"

  Sarah jerked and the gloves fell to the dusty floor.

  "I didn't think so," he said with a smile. "What's she going to think when she hears about this kiss? And she surely will the way folks are talking. She going to open up her hand so that Anne can fall into Jack's lap?"

  "Anne deserves a proper courting and more than one beau to buzz around her," Sarah said stiffly, picking up her gloves.

  "So this is about Bill Tucker, too."

  "This is about Anne, Charles," Sarah said, her spine stiff against the wooden back of the chair. "I only want good things for Anne."

  Charles scraped his chair legs against the floor as he leaned forward. "And Jack Skull is a good thing?"

  Sarah didn't answer. Charles was being horribly bossy.

  "The man's killed."

  "And so have you."

  "It's not the same," he said, running a hand through his hair.

  "It is to the men who're dead and I don't believe he killed without provocation."

  "Fine. But what's provocation to you and him might be a sight different, Sarah. To have killed as many as he can lay claim to would indicate a real touchy man."

  "He's dealing with dangerous men—"

  "And always comes out alive."

  Sarah fidgeted with her ribbons, suddenly intensely annoyed that the wind was blowing them all about.

  "You said he wasn't as dangerous as people made out."

  "Sarah," Charles said, "that doesn't mean he's right for a girl like Anne."

  "Well, someone's got to be and he deserves his chance same as any other," she snapped.

  "Did he say he wanted a chance with Anne?"

  This time she smiled. "He kissed her, didn't he?"

  Charles smiled back, though his smile was weary. "That he did, by all accounts."

  Sarah stood and smiled up at the sheriff for a moment before she turned toward the door. The wind blew against her skirts so that the outline of her legs was clear against the weight of the fabric. Charles didn't seem to notice. Sarah sighed. No one ever seemed to notice.

  "You warn her to step easy with Jack, Sarah. Anne's not used to his sort with their rough ways. That's obvious." He was thinking of that very public kiss.

  "I won't do anything of the kind, Charles. Anne is entirely too cautious as it is."

  She left before he could tell her what else she should be doing regarding her own niece. Blasted men, thought they knew everything.

  She wasn't halfway home when she saw Bill coming out of the barbershop, as clean shaven as a babe. Just the person she most wanted to see.

  "Hello, Bill," she said, coming up beside him. He did what she expected; took her hand and bowed over it. Sometimes his manners rubbed her wrong and now was one of those times. Why couldn't he be the kind of man to kiss a girl in broad daylight? Anne deserved that kind of excitement before life ran her down.

  "Hello, Sarah," he said as he lifted his head. Then he said nothing, just stared down at her with his mouth as straight as string. Not like him at all. Something must have given him a face as bleak as a blizzard in March, something that was bothering him badly.

  Sarah smiled.

  "Have you seen Anne since this morning? No, I guess you haven't, being so busy and all."

  She gestured with her eyes toward the barbershop. Busy man, to leave his gal to find her own amusements while he primped. Poor Bill hadn't expected Anne to be any place but where he put her; and why should he worry? There wasn't a man in twenty-five square miles who was fit to court Anne, or there hadn't been, until Jack Skull rode in. It would serve him right to lose his gal for being so slow and so shy with his attentions. She'd talked with Jack, shown him the gate was open, and he'd been off like a shot; kissing Anne full on the mouth with half of Abilene looking on and Anne not minding one bit. There was nothing slow or shy about Jack Skull.

  Before Bill could answer that, she spoke again, deciding to ride him a bit "I suppose you've heard what happened at the depot today," she said gently. He looked so mad and so pitiful that she almost could find it in herself to feel sorry for him. Almost. "Bill, you've got to know that Anne's a smart-looking woman, ready to build her own nest, and when a man comes along and shows her that he appreciates her, that he's serious... Well"—she shrugged—"she's going to listen. And you can't blame her for that." Bill opened his mouth to speak, his blue eyes hot with angry intensity, but Sarah cut him off. "It's too bad you spend so much time away from Abilene, not giving Anne the attention she deserves, but I expect you know what you're about, being such a smart businessman and all. Good day, Bill," and she sailed off down the boardwalk with brisk steps, the wind pushing her along from behind.

  Bill stared after her, the words he had been about to speak tangled around his tongue like a cord. He didn't see Jack enter the sheriff's office behind him. It was probably for the best.

  Jack didn't say anything. He stood in the doorway, his shoulder braced against it, and looked at Lane. Lane didn't invite him in, didn't invite him to sit, didn't offer him a drink. He needed one.

  "Had yourself a morning, didn't you?"

  Jack shrugged one shoulder and ambled into the room, taking the fact that Lane was speaking to him as an invitation to come in and not get shot.

  "Didn't figure you for a ladies' man," Lane said, opening his drawer and pulling out the rye.

  "I ain't."

  "You'll do," Lane said, pouring out two drinks. It was early, but it had been quite a day so far.

  Jack took his drink and sipped it; he wasn't sure how mad Lane really was and he wasn't going to play it wild.

  "What made you do it? Anne 'n' all," Lane asked.

  "You have to ask?" Jack smiled crookedly before taking another swallow.

  She was the prettiest woman he'd seen in years, maybe the prettiest north of the Red River, and that was conservative. He'd never seen a woman like her. He'd never known a woman who made him feel the way she did, like he wanted to lay his brand all over her and protect her from every kind of predator the world could cough up, while he devoured her himself.

  He wanted to know why she spent half her time jumping in her own skin and the other half trying to be better than a preacher's wife. He wanted to know why she let a man like him lay hands on her. And he wanted her to let him close enough to do it again. Hell, if she didn't want him up close to her, he'd just have to convince her. He was enough of a hand with the ladies to do that.

  "Yeah, I have to ask. I've heard things about you, Jack, but courting women wasn't one of them. What's different now?"

  Jack put down his drink on the edge of the desk, thinking. He had no secrets to keep, not about Anne, so he might as well tell what had started him on her trail.

  "Her aunt's mighty persuasiv
e."

  "I figured it for something like that. She have to persuade you much?" Lane smiled over the rim of his glass.

  "Some," he said.

  He'd never have gone near her, no matter what his blood did inside him when he looked at her, if her kin hadn't opened the chute on her and waved him in. He wanted her, wanted her any way he could have her, even as a pretend beau to spur another man on. If that's what opened the door to her, he'd take it. But now that he was in, he had his own game to play and it wasn't as the spark to light another man's fire. He wasn't that much of a fool.

  "Anne's got a beau—she tell you that?"

  "She told me that right off, that's why she was talking at all to a man like me. Seems he doesn't pay her enough mind, leaving her to herself more than he should. I'm supposed to make him sit up."

  "You're off to a start, what with this morning."

  "Yeah," Jack mumbled, picking up his drink again.

  But that wasn't why he'd kissed her. He'd kissed her because he couldn't stop himself, and he was a man who always stopped himself, especially with a woman like her. He didn't have any call to be rubbing up against so fine a woman. She ought to know that. Hell, the whole damn town knew that.

  "What's with that gal? She doesn't have the gumption to save herself from drowning," he said to Lane.

  "You saying that you didn't expect to get away with that kiss?"

  "I'm saying that she ought to know how to handle herself with a man by now."

  Charles Lane set his glass down and carefully corked his rye. The drawer slid open with a long squeak and slid back shut with a muffled bang, the bottle rolling against the sides. It was a time before he lifted his eyes to Jack's.

  "You know that man we were talking about? The one who'd die for a stray dog?"

  Jack finished his drink and set the glass down. "Yeah."

  "Name's Bill Tucker and he's been courting Anne all spring."

  Chapter 12

  Martha O'Shaughnessy hadn't wasted any time in getting to Nell. Nell turned as white as flour when she heard, but didn't say a word, either in acceptance or denial. Miss Daphne was in the garden picking greens for supper and heard the tail end of the story as she came through the back door. Martha obliged her by repeating it. Miss Daphne didn't turn white, she turned pink, but she managed to hold her tongue in front of Martha; they were all members of the same sewing circle and it wouldn't do to be the center of such a fuss with her words being bandied about by women who didn't have to suffer her trials of life. Martha left, settled in her own mind that she hadn't done anything but her Christian duty and was not spreading gossip. After all, it was the truth. Miss Daphne and Nell waited in the parlor for Anne to come home.