Claudia Dain

by A Kiss To Die For

  "The line moved a few years ago," Jack said. "Them girls must have been old enough to marry by then."

  "Sure they was," Lane agreed, "but Miss Daphne, she keeps a close line on family and, married or not, those girls weren't going to stray. Sarah's man went off to war, came back when it was over, and lit out the day after his homecoming. That was seven years ago."

  "What about Nell's man?"

  Charles swallowed a grunt of disgust. "He was a lawman in Missouri. Local hero. Went bad and went west."

  "Left his wife and daughter?"

  "Yeah, left Miss Daphne, too."

  There was something to that. A man wanted to make his own home with his own woman; he didn't want to marry a daughter and get a mother-in-law, especially one who wouldn't disappear.

  "Makes your case kinda hard," Jack said.

  "What case?" Lane scowled.

  "Anne's mama." Jack smiled slightly.

  "There ain't nothing like that there," Lane grumbled.

  "You said that right." Jack grinned. At least the joke wasn't on him anymore.

  There was a quick knock and the door opened before Jack could say a word. He didn't pull his gun; anyone who would knock first didn't have to be afraid of what he'd find on the other side of Jack's door.

  Nell poked her head in, then flattened her lips when she saw the sheriff. Jack felt his grin get bigger.

  "I just wanted to know if you expect meals with what you're paying for the room. We don't have a lot, Lord knows, and—"

  "I leave it to you, ma'am; you decide what's right and I'll abide," Jack said.

  "Well, I don't think it was right for Anne to offer to house a stranger, no matter what. She should have come and talked it over with her elders before proceeding. As to the food, the hotel doesn't provide—"

  "Now, Nell," Charles interrupted, "that doesn't seem very neighborly, considering the circumstances. Why, this man has lost all he had."

  "He's got guns enough," she muttered at Lane, "but I'll give him meals since it's my Christian duty. You can have Anne's portion since she won't be eating with us tonight, Mr. Skull," she said, turning to Jack. "She's got an arrangement with her beau and won't be in the house this evening."

  "The name's Scullard, ma'am," Jack said, "and I thank you for the meal."

  Nell's eyes softened in response to his soft tone of voice. "You're welcome, Mr. Scullard. I hope you enjoy it. I'm sorry about mangling your name. It won't happen again." She shut the door softly behind her as she left the room.

  "The women in this family sure don't have much bite," Jack said when she'd gone.

  "I thought Nell was sharp enough," Lane grumbled.

  Jack couldn't stop the chuckle that filled his throat and only laughed harder at Lane's scowl.

  "Think about it, Sheriff," he finally said, "Anne's mama had her back up but she spit nothing at all and settled down quick. Anne apologizes to anyone who'll stand still long enough to listen. Sarah, now that Sarah, she's got some spine, but she let her mama scare her man off. No bite."

  Lane nodded and worked at straightening his hat brim. "You're right, but Miss Daphne, she's got teeth for the whole lot of them. Sarah has more powder than Nell, and Anne the least of all. But that Anne, she's a sweet gal. Swim a river to fetch you a sack of flour."

  "Yeah, even if her legs were broke," Jack said. It wasn't a compliment and Lane knew it. "Now Nell, if you was to do the asking, would break your legs and tell you to get your own damn flour."

  Lane put his hat on; it looked respectable enough to go out in daylight. "You don't want to hear what Miss Daphne would tell you to do with your flour," he said as he walked out the door.

  Chapter 15

  He could see them from the porch steps, set out like petrified wood, stiff and proper, waiting in the parlor for Anne's beau to come fetch her. Truth to tell, they were all fine-looking women; even Miss Daphne had her points. The glow of lamplight lit them softly, making dark hair shine and the lines of age fade like tracks in a sandstorm. Fine women and not a man among them.

  Except for Bill Tucker.

  Jack bent his head, turning his eyes away from the domestic contentment of the scene in the parlor. He had his Colt to clean and he'd best get it done while the light was still with him. He knew without asking that Miss Daphne wouldn't abide his cleaning his guns in her house; it was a dirty, greasy business and he supposed there wasn't a woman alive who'd wish the job done in a bedroom.

  He didn't care where he did it and had spent the better part of his life living out of doors anyway. He cleaned his guns every time he used them, and every few days whether he had used them or not. Most of the time, they got hard use.

  He was a good, steady shot. It had taken him some time to get good and he'd lose the skill quick enough if he didn't keep it up. Problem was, he'd been in Abilene a good bit and hadn't fired off his guns as often as he'd have liked. One advantage of living out under the sky, he could fire off a few dozen rounds without bothering anybody. Couldn't do that living under Miss Daphne's roof. Just thinking of her reaction forced a smile out of him.

  "What are you doing here?"

  Jack looked up slowly. The polished leather shoes, the creased pants, the brocade vest, the silk tie, the proud and flustered expression: Tucker.

  "I live here," Jack said, enjoying the confusion on Tucker's face. "Hotel burned down today. Remember?"

  "Of course I remember."

  "Well, the offer was made for me to bunk here. I accepted."

  "Here? Wasn't there any place else you could have gone?" Bill looked as if he were going to pop a blood vessel.

  "Don't know," Jack said and then smiled. "I like it here."

  He clicked the Colt back together and holstered it smoothly, almost in a single motion. Bill looked at that action, swallowed, and stopped talking.

  "I notice you don't carry," Jack said. "Why's that?"

  "Never saw the need," Tucker said, the arrogance thick in his throat.

  "Trust others to take care of you, is that it?" Jack asked, his voice relentlessly casual.

  Tucker flushed from the throat and said, "I can take care of myself, been taking care of myself for more years than I want to count. Not everyone needs a gun."

  "True, but most everyone needs somethin'. I once knew a man down on the Rio Grande, he used a whip. Could kill flies with that thing."

  "Jiggs Maron," Tucker said, his eyes alight with recognition.

  "You knew him," Jack said.

  "He taught me, when I was starting out."

  "You ran cattle, then?"

  The memory of Jiggs had relaxed him, made him remember; he was talking now and not thinking much. That was good. Keep talking, Tucker. Spit it out.

  "Up the Chisholm, three times," Bill said.

  "Dusty work," Jack said, pushing the memory, wanting him to savor it. "A good life, though, for those who can stand it."

  "Hard work, but my whip sang by the end of the first drive; I could make that line go anywhere I wanted."

  "Been up the Chisholm Trail myself. Never saw you. Did hear of a man who liked his whip, though; used to do some loco things with it."

  Bill looked down and recollected whom he was talking to. He closed his mouth.

  "You meet Anne back then, when you were riding herd?"

  "No."

  "All the trails led to Abilene for a while there; surprised you didn't see her."

  "It was a different town then."

  "That's the truth," Jack said. "All farmers and merchants now. Not the town it was."

  "It's a better town, respectable."

  "Sure, and you're helping to make it so, right? You sell land, I hear, and do fine at it. Takes a bit of traveling, don't it?"

  "No more than you, with what you do."

  "As to traveling, I'm sure I do more. You been to the saloon in Topeka? The one with the purple walls?"

  "No, I don't get that far east," Bill said.

  Jack could feel his discomfort and confusion; Tuck
er didn't want to talk. Jack was being friendly; they were two men who had some things in common, talking it out. For Bill not to talk would make him look like he was holding out, hiding something. The fact that he was talking when he so clearly didn't want to told Jack a lot. Why would a man who had nothing to hide care if it looked like he had something to hide? An innocent man would say, "I'm not talking with you and I don't give a damn what you think." Bill seemed to care, talking against his inclination.

  "How about Junction City? You ever see Fat Alice? She's something to see, you ever get that way. Good land around Junction City, even down toward Council Grove."

  "There's good land everywhere," Tucker said.

  "Guess that's why you're doing so well."

  "That, and I work hard." Bill said bristling.

  Jack looked at his thickened waistline and soft hands. "Yeah."

  If Bill had had that whip he seemed so fond of, he might have gone for it then. But he didn't have it.

  "Come on in, Bill. Anne's waiting," Nell said from the doorway. The light flooded out onto the porch, though not as far as where Jack sat on the step; he remained in deepening shadow. Twilight was sliding into full dark at a nice clip. Bill went in without another word for Jack. Jack stayed outside. No one invited him in.

  For a man who'd lived most of his life outside, he didn't know why he had the sudden urge to be invited in.

  Yeah, he did, and she stood right in that parlor, accepting a kiss on the back of the hand like it was nothin', letting a man touch her who had no business touching her, with her whole family looking on and smilin' their pleasure. Lord, even the dog was smiling, his tongue hanging out his tail going like a windmill. Even the dog...

  Jack eased off the porch and into the night, leaving the warm glow of the houselights firmly behind him. He wasn't leaving Anne alone on the dark streets of Abilene with a man who was that friendly with a dog.

  They didn't see him as they walked to the restaurant, though he followed close enough to hear the pride in Tucker's voice and the hesitation in Anne's. They didn't see him when they entered, but he watched the warm reception they got when they walked to their table. People smiled and greeted them, Tucker grinned and clapped a fellow on the back, Anne smiled without showing her teeth and sat down when Tucker pulled the chair for her.

  She didn't show her teeth much, not in talking or smiling, or even in eating, for that matter. Bill did most of the talking. Bill did the ordering. Bill did the gesturing. Bill did the smiling and the laughing. Anne did the listening.

  It appeared to be a one-sided courtship with the weight on Tucker's side.

  Jack stood in the darkness that blanketed the main street of Abilene, hidden from all eyes, in no one's thoughts. That was just the way he liked it. He didn't want anyone sniffing along his trail. He didn't need anyone at all.

  He watched Anne in the golden light of the Demorest, her dark hair shining in a wavy mass atop her head, her skin smooth and glowing, her blue eyes brilliant in the gentle lamplight. Her expression guarded. Why would a gal be wary when out with her regular beau? Bill leaned across the table, smiling, talking excitedly. Anne smiled politely and rested more firmly against the back of her chair. A fool would have no trouble reading that picture; Bill's aggressive pursuit, Anne's passive withdrawal. And he was no fool. Except maybe where she was concerned.

  She had leaned into him, seeking his kiss. She had come to his hotel, seeking him out. She had pressed herself against him not three hours ago, demanding a kiss from him that he'd been too ready to give. She hadn't been wary, or cautious, or reserved. Not then. She was being all those things now with Tucker. Damn, but the woman had it tumbled; she was supposed to encourage her town beau, not the dusty-heeled bounty hunter.

  She didn't have the first idea of how to look after herself.

  That's why he was following her. She couldn't be trusted on her own with a man—he knew that well enough from personal experience, and her mama ought to know it, too. But Bill Tucker was an approved beau for Anne and looked on the verge of asking her to be his woman, that was the difference. A mama would make allowances if the man was ready to submit to the halter.

  But Bill Tucker had ridden the trail, traveled a lot, and was good with a whip. And dogs tied themselves in knots for him.

  That's why he was following them. Anne needed someone to watch out for her, and Bill just plain needed watching.

  Anne turned at that moment to smile at a woman at a nearby table, her first genuine smile of the night. Tiny dimples appeared in each cheek and her cheeks flushed pink. The woman said something and Anne chuckled, ducking her head for a moment and then raising it, her face alight with pleasure, her light blue eyes crescents of momentary delight. Then Tucker said something and Anne calmed down, pressing her lips against her smile and readjusting the napkin in her lap. Tucker nodded to the woman and she nodded back, her smile still in place. Tucker'd only managed to knock the smile out of one of them and it was coming to be a sure bet that it'd always be Anne.

  What kind of beau would knock the smile out of a woman?

  What kind of gal would let him?

  The kind of gal that needed watching.

  Without knowing how it happened, he realized that he'd hired on for the job of doing just that.

  Jack stayed in the shadows, watching the couple in the warm light of the restaurant, chewing on a piece of hardtack that had been stuffed into the bottom of his pocket. Miss Daphne hadn't had to spring for his supper after all. She must be as pleased as punch about that.

  He was still standing in the dark, his back holding up the storefront across the street from the Demorest, when they came out. Tucker took Anne by the arm and led her down the street toward home while Anne was fussing with fastening her cape. The spring night air wasn't cold enough to show breath, but it wasn't much warmer. She'd need to have that wrap firmly tied down. Couldn't Tucker have waited while she got herself pulled together before he dragged her off down the street?

  Jack eased off the wall and followed them, leaving the boardwalk to walk in the quiet of the dirt street. He needn't have bothered being so careful; Tucker was so busy listening to himself talk that he wouldn't have raised his head for a stampede.

  "Here, let me help you," Bill said, positioning himself in front of Anne so that he could grab hold of the ribbons that would hold her wrap shut.

  "No, I can manage it," she said, her voice muffled as she tried to look down to a spot just under her chin.

  "It would have been easier in the light," he said, his large fingers mixing in with hers and getting everything jumbled up even more.

  "Yes, it would have," she said, except he hadn't given her a chance to get her cape on before he had charged out of the restaurant with her by the arm. It was hard to tie a ribbon with only one hand available. Bill didn't seem to realize that.

  She finally got herself together and breathed a sigh of accomplishment. Bill was looking down at her with a smile on his face. She smiled back. He lifted her chin up with one finger and smiled even bigger. He always did that before he kissed her.

  Anne's smile faltered and she jerked her head away from his touch. It was just a little jerk, but he noticed.

  "What's wrong, Anne?" His voice wasn't raised, but he kept that one finger firmly planted under her chin, forcing her face up to his. It was uncomfortable. "You'll kiss Jack Skull in broad daylight? A man like that? A man you hardly know? But you won't kiss me now, when we're alone?"

  She flushed and wanted to walk around him, just leave him there in the dark of the street for embarrassing her like that. But she didn't move. She did jerk her head away from his extended finger and backed up a step to put some distance between them.

  "I'm sorry about that," she said. "I... I don't know how that happened." That was the sad and honest truth. "I'm sorry you had to hear about it." A flat-out lie.

  "Anne, the whole town's heard about it, those that didn't actually see it," Bill said, the anger in his voice as bright as a
lamp. "Didn't you think that people'd be worried about you? You mixing with that bounty hunter and them all knowing about you and me. Are you sorry it happened or sorry I found out about your infidelity?"

  Anne's head came up at that her blue eyes suddenly as sharp as a blade. "Acts of infidelity are reserved for the married. I'm not married." And never would be, if she had her way. Which she would.

  "Let's talk about that," Bill said, easing off on his own anger to assuage hers. He moved in close to her, pulling her under the shelter of his arm as he continued on down the street.

  There weren't any lights up ahead. The Demorest, with its golden light pooling on the dirt street, was long behind them. Up ahead was only darkness and in the far distance, the lights of home. All the stores in between were closed and dark. The moon was out and the sky was clear, but it was only a crescent moon and its cold, spring light was feeble. Bill guided her carefully along the boardwalk, their steps loud and hollow in the night, his arm snug along her shoulder. Her right arm was pressed so close to his side that she couldn't move it.

  "You know how I feel about you, Anne," he said, his eyes circles of sincere blue under the dark sweep of his thick brows. He didn't wait for her to answer. "I think you're the prettiest girl between here and Texas, and the sweetest."

  He turned his face and kissed the side of her face, just near the ear. She shivered. He tightened his grip and stopped walking. Anne, by necessity, stopped too.

  Jack didn't stop.

  "I've wanted to ask you something all night, Anne." Bill turned Anne in his arms and raised her face for a kiss. His mouth came down on hers softly, confidently. It was a gentle kiss, designed to inspire a gentle response. Bill seemed pleased.

  Jack wasn't.

  "Kissing in public," he said from the darkness. "That just might be illegal."

  This time it was Bill who jerked away, whirling to face the voice of the man he couldn't see. Anne closed her arms over her chest and ducked her head down, ashamed to the core. Kissing two men in one day; she'd get a reputation for being just plain common.

  "Then you'd be the first to be arrested," Bill said, making her want to groan in shame. "Besides, she's spoken for."