Claudia Dain

by A Kiss To Die For

  "Experience. I've seen too many like him. Your pa for one. Roy for another. Even my own pa; he could charm prairie dust into lying quiet in a tornado."

  "That sounds more like Bill than Jack; he'd more like shoot the dust out of his path."

  "Maybe so," Sarah said, "but he's the man who's got himself tangled up in your blood and that's the difference. You want a man you can manage and that's not Jack."

  That wasn't any man. A man just couldn't be managed, not reliably and not well. She knew that, even if Sarah didn't. That's how she was smarter. She had to be smarter. She wasn't going to end up like all the women of her family, losing her heart to a man, giving herself to him in marriage, and then getting left. No one was going to leave her. Not again. Not ever again.

  She was going to be the one to do the leaving and she just wasn't ready to leave Jack yet. Not just yet. And he wasn't tangled up in her blood either; no such thing.

  She'd cut him loose when the time was right. She still needed him now to push Bill off, that's all. Her blood had nothing to do with it. She was smarter than that.

  * * *

  "He was there, but I never did see him with Elsa, just Widow Blake, who was healthy when I left her," Jack said.

  Charles leaned back in his chair until he was propped against the wall. "Yeah, it looks bad, him being there and there being another killing. Course, you were there, too."

  "I wondered when you'd get to that," Jack said easily, leaning back in his own chair in the sheriff's office.

  "Couldn't ignore it, not and do my job."

  "Yeah, I guess not."

  The silence filled the space between them, each man thinking of what had to be asked and what would be answered.

  "You do it?" Lane asked.

  "Nope," Jack said.

  "Didn't figure it that way, not when you been doing so much talk about finding the killer. Doesn't figure, to pull down so much attention on yourself. And this killer, he don't make his courting known. You haven't exactly made a secret of what's going on between you 'n' Anne."

  "And what do you figure is going on?"

  "A mighty fine courting, if you're an honorable man."

  "And if I'm not?"

  Lane shrugged and banged his chair legs down on the floor. "A man could get hanged for doing what you're doing to a girl like Anne."

  "What am I doing?"

  "Getting her thinking of marriage, for one."

  "For one?"

  "For two, getting her ready for what comes after."

  Jack grinned and lit a slim cigar. "You must think my kisses are real convincing."

  Lane snorted. "Don't matter what I think. It's Anne you're firing up. You've got that gal strung from here to Kansas City, obvious as moonlight on snow."

  Jack got up and walked to the door; it was time for supper and he was hungry. And he was tired of talking about Anne, a gal that was using him for her own ends without a thought to him. Yeah, she was a nice girl, but nice girls had their own weapons. Trouble was, she didn't have the first idea what she'd stirred up in him and he wasn't thankful for it. Not a bit. Wonder what she'd do if he acted on all the urges she'd sparked in him. Might be fun to find out.

  "Do I need to get a rope ready?"

  "Only if you want to pull her off me. I didn't start this."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning I'm on the job till her aunt pulls me off. Marriage was never part of the deal," he said and walked out the door.

  Jack missed Nell by five minutes, which was just as well. She'd come for Charles.

  She'd combed her hair, gotten herself a fresh handkerchief, which was lightly sprayed with precious cologne, and brushed the worst of the dust off her boots. Charles noticed every bit of it and tucked his shirt in a little tighter. Then he finger-combed his hair. Then he pushed in his desk chair and they faced off, like the two adversaries they suddenly were. She started it.

  "I came to see if you want to apologize."

  "Apologize? For what, Nell?"

  She sniffed her reluctance and turned away from him slightly, giving him her profile. "For being unnecessarily unkind to me before."

  "You mean when I wouldn't let you join that necktie party forming up on the street for Jack? Excuse me, Nell, but I don't let the kind of wild talk that was going on out there build any wind. It's a wind that kills and has nothing to do with the law."

  "You're doing it again."

  "So are you."

  They didn't say anything for a while after that. Nell was regrouping and Charles was waiting for the next assault. It came.

  "You never used to talk to me like this before, before he came. You used to be so polite and kind; I always felt I could count on you, Charles. I always thought we were friends. Old friends."

  He couldn't help thinking just then about how well Jack was doing with Anne after less than two weeks. He'd known Nell for the better part of twenty years and wasn't half so far. Could be that Sarah was right; Jack knew how to commence a courtin'.

  "You did? Old friends, huh? Why, I can remember times when you wouldn't say hello to me if you bumped into me on the street. Is that what old friends do?"

  "You know I never did any such thing," she said.

  "I know damn well you did."

  "Stop cussing. Is that how you talk in front of a lady?"

  "What is it you want to be, Nell, lady or friend?"

  He'd moved closer to her, the long length of him towering over her. She'd never quite realized how tall he was or how muscular. His body was still hard, his stomach flat, even after all these years. She pulled her own stomach in and lifted her chin.

  "I would hope that I could be both," she said.

  "Or you could be something more," he said gruffly, crowding her until she found herself backing up. Her breath lifted up into her chest, and stayed there.

  "Nell! What on earth are you doing in here with the sheriff? I'm certain he has important business to see to," Daphne snapped from the open doorway.

  "And I'm seeing to it right now," Lane said, still looking at Nell. She felt her nipples rise up against the fabric of her cotton dress.

  "Charles Lane!" Daphne barked. "My daughter has better manners than to loiter in a jailhouse with no proper escort. This is hardly appropriate—"

  "Miss Daphne," Charles interrupted, "I've got things to say to your daughter and I'd like to say them in private. If you'll excuse us?"

  "I most certainly will not! If you have anything to say to my daughter, you will do so in the proper way at the proper time and—"

  "Miss Daphne? I ain't waitin'. Nell will be home later."

  He ended the conversation by slamming the door in the old woman's face. Nell was speechless, her breath rising to get caught in her throat; she'd never seen Charles like this before, why, he was almost... wild.

  Daphne was far from speechless.

  "Charles Lane," she said from behind the closed door, "your manners have gone straight to the devil since that bounty hunter came to town."

  Charles slid home the bolt without once taking his eyes off Nell. Leaning back against the door, he crossed his arms and smiled.

  "Yes, ma'am, Miss Daphne. Yes, ma'am."

  * * *

  "Heard you were back," Shaughn O'Shaughnessy said, putting the beer down in front of Jack.

  "I'll bet you did," Jack said, reaching for his drink. "You serve food here? I'll pay you double not to have to go to the Demorest." He wasn't feeling up to staring that woman down just to get a plate of grub, It was shaping up to be a long day.

  "Yeah, my ma'll serve up something sometimes, something simple; not like what you'd get at the Demorest."

  "I'll take it," Jack said. "Whatever you've got."

  "I'll tell her."

  O'Shaughnessy was back after a few minutes with a plate of food.

  "You got lucky; this just came out of the skillet."

  The plate was piled high with beefsteak and fried potatoes seared golden brown.

  "Thank your ma fo
r me. It's a nice spread."

  Jack took the plate and sat at one of the gaming tables in the corner of the room. The old man who usually slept there was gone. O'Shaughnessy swept the floor behind the bar. The saloon was empty but for the two of them. Jack couldn't have been happier.

  "I ever tell you that my ma, she thinks your name is kinda familiar?"

  "No." Jack shoveled a mess of potatoes into his mouth. He was real hungry.

  "Yeah," Shaughn said, leaning on the broom handle and looking out at the street "She's got a head for names and yours struck her like a ringing bell."

  "Yeah, well," Jack said over the steak in his mouth, "she's not the first to know my name."

  "Nah"—Shaughn grinned, looking over at Jack—"not your handle, your real name, Scullard. She's sure she's heard it afore."

  "Well, tell her to pass it around," Jack said and took a swallow of beer. He was damn tired of being known as Jack Skull; never did much like it and it was growing real thin about now.

  O'Shaughnessy went back to his sweeping. "She'll worry over it till it comes to her, and it will. She's got a head for names."

  "I heard," Jack said over a thin smile.

  "Heard about that gal over in Junction City."

  "Elsa."

  "Yeah. Terrible. Heard it was just like the other one. What'd she look like, anyway? Pretty?"

  "She looked dead," Jack said, pushing away his empty plate. He wasn't going to talk about that woman as if she were nothing but news.

  "Junction City, that's right close to Abilene. It's a mercy no one in Abilene's been killed yet. You think that murderer is going to try for one of the girls here? You think Abilene might have a murder?"

  All he could see was Anne, her dark hair limp in the dirt, her blue eyes closed forever because of a purple slash across her throat. Anne, who was too trusting to push a man away when he got too close.

  Jack stood up abruptly, making his chair squeak back along the floor. "No. There's not going to be a killing in Abilene." Not while I'm breathing.

  He paid O'Shaughnessy two dollars for the food and the beer and walked out, right into Anne.

  "There must be a train due in," he said, catching her arm.

  "There is, the Union Pacific from Salina," she said. "Care to come?" She'd seen Bill over at the dry goods store. Was it her fault that she'd have to walk by there to get to the train? It certainly wasn't her fault that Jack had offered to walk with her. Some days, you just got lucky.

  "Yeah, I've always wanted to see a train out of Salina," he said wryly, holding her by the arm and escorting her down the boardwalk. "Must be somethin' to see."

  "It is!" she said, grinning. "This one has a red cowcatcher and blue wheels and the brakeman wears a red-striped hat."

  She was laughing, teasing, a thing he'd yet to see her do. What was that about? He looked around for Tucker; she sure was putting on a show for someone and she didn't need to smile and tease for him to trail after her.

  He was as good as roped and tied and she was holding the iron that'd mark him.

  "I just gotta see a man who wears a red-striped hat," he said, pulling his hat down low so that his eyes were in deep shadow beneath the brim.

  She laughed, looking up at him, her smile wide and unguarded. She was leaning into him, her shoulder brushing his chest. He leaned away and kept rigid, getting a tighter grip on her arm to hold her off. She was too easy with herself, too loose and free with her laughter and her closeness. It was too easy to want a woman who acted that way. Too easy to think you could have her, to believe she wanted you the way she was teasing you to want her. She didn't want him. She wanted Tucker. She smiled at Tucker, too.

  Had Elsa smiled up at the man who had killed her?

  Had Mary?

  Who'd watch out for Anne when he left town? Who'd keep her safe? Not Miss Daphne, she kept her like a dog chained in the yard, confined but not protected. She needed to use that gun he'd taught her to shoot and not be sparing with the rounds. Hell, maybe she couldn't afford to buy another box and would be too cautious in her firing. There was no protection in a gun if a body wouldn't squeeze off a few rounds.

  Hell, he'd buy her another couple of boxes, just so she'd have enough. Maybe even take her out to the prairie again, for target practice. Maybe just hang close to Abilene until he was sure she was safe. Safe. There wasn't a safe place in this world, especially not in Kansas, especially not for a woman. Especially not now.

  Maybe he could settle here, keep an eye on her for a while.

  Jack shook himself mentally. It wasn't going to play out that way.

  That wasn't the game he'd signed up to play. Sarah had made it pretty clear that his job was to get Tucker to sit up and take notice. Well, he was sitting straight enough now. That meant he was about out of a job, at least the job Sarah had in mind for him. But he wasn't leaving Anne to face the killer on her own.

  "Where's that gun I gave you?" he asked.

  "I didn't have a belt strong enough to hold it. I'll get one. I'll wear it. Tomorrow."

  "You do that," he said. If he had to buy her a belt to hang a six-gun on, he'd do that, too.

  He wasn't handing Anne over to Bill, with a gun or without it. There was something about that one that set his fingers itching. He wasn't leaving Abilene until he had Tucker pegged down and dried out.

  "How long you been keeping company with Tucker?"

  The smile got wiped right off her face. She stopped looking at him to look down toward the station.

  "Not long. I really don't know him well at all."

  "Funny. The other night you seemed to know him well enough."

  "Well, when he's in town, we ... we see each other some."

  "Yeah? How often's he in town?"

  "Oh, I don't know."

  "Don't tell me you don't know when your regular beau's in town."

  He was getting mad. He couldn't help it. She'd kissed Tucker; told him so to his face. Rubbed his nose in it; not a real friendly thing to do.

  "He's not my... regular beau. He's just courting me."

  She was starting to fuss with her hat. She wasn't leaning into him anymore. That was good. It went better for him when she kept her distance.

  "So, how often is he around to court you? How often is he gone?"

  "About as much as you," she said, a little sharply for her.

  He had to tuck his head to hide a smile. Anne fighting back always made him feel good, like maybe she'd come out of this whole thing alive.

  "So, he's like me? How else is he like me?"

  They had almost reached the station. The stationmaster was keeping an eye on them, but there wouldn't be anything to see, not this time. Anne was mad enough to keep her distance.

  "I didn't say he was like you," she said, looking down at the ground as she walked, her pace no longer strolling and playful, but brisk.

  "No? He don't hang around you, like me? He don't kiss you, like me? He don't get invited in to set in your parlor, well, hell, that's not like me, is it?"

  "I told you," she gritted out, climbing the steps to the platform, "he's courting me."

  "And what am I doing, Anne? Am I courting you?"

  "I don't know what you're doing," she said in a near whisper.

  The hell of it was, he didn't know what he was doing either.

  He wanted her, but he knew that she was playing a game with him as the pawn to get her proper beau to propose. He wanted to keep her safe from a killer on the prowl, a killer who went after girls close enough to touch a wedding day and no sense to protect themselves. He wanted her to want him just as badly as he wanted her, but she didn't and the whole town was pushing her away from him and Anne was just the sort of person to let herself get pushed. The only thing Anne wanted out of him was his kisses; she seemed to have a real firm attachment to his kisses.

  And the trains. She had a true passion for meeting each and every train that rolled through Abilene. Why?

  "Who are you waiting for, Anne? Who's goin
g to get off this train one day?"

  She kept her posture and her face composed, but she didn't turn to face him. No, she kept looking at that train.

  "I'm not waiting for anyone."

  "Then why come?"

  "I just do. I've been coming here since ... since, well, since we got here."

  "What do you think about when you watch these folks get on and off the trains? You think about leaving?"

  She took a deep breath and turned to face him, her eyes bright and glistening. "Yes, I think about leaving. I want to get out of Abilene someday and it'll take a train to do it."

  "Is that what I'm for? To get you out of Abilene?" he whispered harshly. It sounded true and fit what he knew. He was being used, by Sarah for her purposes, and by Anne for her own. It didn't matter what he wanted. Nobody cared what he wanted.

  Damn, but she looked guilty.

  "No," she said quickly, then, "I don't know. I've never told anyone before. They all think... I don't know what they think. But I want to get out. I want to leave," she said, her voice hard.

  "Where do I fit into that? You want me to buy you the ticket? You want an armed escort? Hell, I'll ride with you as far as..." Forever. "Dodge. You want to see Dodge? Rough town. A girl like you needs a man like me to keep the scum off, right? Is that what I'm for? Is that what you got in mind for me?"

  "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes soft.

  "I just knew there'd be an apology in there somewhere," he bit out. "You been doing a lot of thinking, sounds like," he just about snarled. "Ever think about what I wanted? What I'd like?"

  "Well, of course, I just thought," she stammered, getting a pretty little blush going, "I mean, I thought that we... well, you have kissed me."

  "Why shouldn't I? You keep letting me!"

  Her eyes flared at that and good, hard anger took the place of embarrassment. "I'm not letting you. You're just doing it!"

  "Doing it all by myself, am I?"

  "I... I... I thought... there've been times when you... just last night, you, by the door."

  "Hell, I thought you were asking me, the way you were actin'."