Scandal at the Cahill Saloon

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Scandal at the Cahill Saloon Page 6

by Carol Arens


  “Forgive me. I wouldn’t want to frighten Miss High-and-Mighty Cahill.” He bent toward her, close enough that she smelled the cologne on his skin.

  This was no cheap fragrance. For a bank clerk, he had expensive tastes.

  “Not so high-and-mighty now, are you?” He caught a loose strand of her hair that blew toward him in the wind. He rubbed it between his thumb and fingers. “I’ll bet you’re good and sorry you turned me down, way back when. Who knows, you might be an honest woman right now if you hadn’t.”

  It wouldn’t do to make an enemy of Preston, at least more than he already was, so she lifted her hair from his hand and tossed it back over her shoulder instead of slapping him.

  “We never would have suited.” She tried to step around him but he blocked her way.

  “You damn Cahills.” He propped one fist on his hip and arched a finely shaped eyebrow at her. “Damn you most of all. Still think you’re better than everyone else? Even though folks snicker when you pass by?”

  She would point out to him that the snickering was partly his fault. He was the one who had returned from Deadwood several months ago to gleefully spread the news that she was a mother with no wedding ring, but the less he thought about her child, the better. Besides, she was a mother with no wedding ring. She could hardly argue that.

  “I don’t want to keep you from your business across the tracks, Preston. No doubt the Fitzgerald boys are wondering what’s keeping you.”

  “What they’re wondering is what you are up to.” He snatched the flyers from her and held them high in his pale, slender fingers. Wind snapped and nipped the paper. “Looks to me like you’re trying to stir things up, deprive hardworking women of their livelihood.”

  While Preston deprived them of much more than that. She had never trusted him and, she had come to discover, with good cause.

  He snickered again, deep down in his chest. He opened his fist and let go of her flyers. They fluttered away like pale moths, tumbling and colliding in the dark.

  “How ill-mannered of me!” He spread his hands wide, wiggled his fingers. “I do hope you will take offense, Miss Cahill.”

  “Grow up, Preston, before it’s too late.” She shook her head and took two steps around him, toward town.

  He gripped her elbow and spun her back to face him.

  “Don’t dismiss me with your whiny little threat.” He dug his fingers into her arm and shook her. “You pitiful whore!”

  “Unless you want your face smashed in you’ll let go of the lady,” a voice spoke from behind her, its tone uncompromising. “Just to be clear, that was a threat.”

  Preston let go of her with a backward shove. She would have lost her balance but Cleve placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.

  The fact that he hadn’t left town relieved her nearly as much as seeing him in this very spot in the very instant that she needed an ally.

  She glanced up at his face. Handsome, even when it looked set in stone, his expression spoke authority. He ordered Preston away like he was disciplining a disobedient dog.

  Preston snorted. He brushed his coat with both hands. Stiff legged, he walked ten feet, then straightened his shoulders. Without a backward glance he strode toward Hell’s Corner.

  Hopefully, poor Aggie wouldn’t be the one he took his anger out on tonight.

  “Mercy me, you gave us all a fright!” Dorothy declared, standing prim and proper on Leanna’s front porch. She folded her arms across her apron and frowned down at her and Cleve, each with one foot on the bottom step. “Staying across the tracks until well after dark. I can’t think of what might have happened if Mr. Holden hadn’t come to call and gone looking for you.”

  “I’m in your debt good and deep, Cleve.” She glanced up to see him grinning.

  The crease in his cheek lifted his smile and nearly made her miss the next step. He was beyond attractive in his white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and his jacket slung across his shoulder.

  “A girl could get used to having a man like you around. I’m half-sorry you won’t be staying in Cahill Crossing.”

  “Only half?”

  All right, more than half, but she could hardly admit that when he had stated his intention of leaving.

  Besides, he was a charmer and a flirt. No doubt he’d lost track of the number of women he’d enchanted over the years.

  “Since you came to call and ended up having to go in search of me, I believe I owe you dinner. Won’t you stay?”

  She hoped his answer would be yes. It had been forever since she’d truly enjoyed a man’s company, and truth be told, she did enjoy this man’s company.

  “I’d be delighted,” he answered.

  “The two of you will have to eat alone. The rest of us supped an hour ago.” Dorothy studied them for a moment, looking first at Leanna, then at Cleve. A ghost of a smile teased her lips, which for Dorothy amounted to an earsplitting grin. She opened the screen door and waved them inside. “I’ll warm up some supper but you’ll have to eat it out back. It’s bedtime for the boys and I don’t want any distractions.”

  It seemed that the boys were already distracted. Cabe darted across the front room with Melvin in pursuit, hooting, laughing and swinging an invisible rope.

  Years peeled away and memories of playing roundup with Chance flashed in her memory.

  Leanna scooped up her son an instant before he plowed into Dorothy on her way into the kitchen.

  “Mama loves her Boodle.” She buried her nose in his dark curls and breathed in the precious scent of him. Becoming his mother was the finest thing that had ever happened to her. Silently, prayerfully, she thanked Arden for the gift.

  When she looked up she saw Cleve gazing at her with the most peculiar expression on his face.

  “Say good-night to Mr. Holden, baby.”

  Cleve stepped forward and took Cabe’s small hand in his big one. He shook it, kissed the chubby little knuckles. “Good night, little man.”

  Leanna would bet a silver coin that something about saying good-night to Boodle had moved Cleve. Maybe he had a child himself, or perhaps his sister had been a baby when he lost her.

  “Would you like to carry him upstairs?”

  He shook his head and let go of Cabe’s hand. “Some other time. I’ll meet you out back.”

  Curious. Judging by the tender look on Cleve’s face, she’d have wagered his answer would have been yes.

  Twenty minutes later, after she had sung Cabe his lullaby and tucked his worn and favorite blanket around him, she went downstairs to the kitchen.

  Dorothy stood in front of the stove, scrubbing a spot of something from it.

  “Well,” Dorothy said, wiping her hands on her apron. “The girls and I are turning in early tonight.”

  She walked across the room, then paused in the doorway.

  “We like that man.”

  Dorothy winked. She went up the stairs.

  Leanna liked him, too, more than a little. But he wouldn’t be around long enough for the gossips to sink their teeth into.

  She stepped onto the back porch, grateful that the wind had, at last, settled to an easy breeze.

  Cleve sat on a blanket with one leg bent and the other stretched out. He rested one elbow on his knee, seeming to appreciate the scene before him. It was lovely and soothing behind the house with a stream that flowed at the property’s edge and the big, lush trees growing beside it.

  He tipped his head, apparently listening to leaves scratching and whispering against one another. They had that in common. Wind-ruffled leaves was among her favorite sounds.

  A pair of lanterns illuminated a golden circle around her guest. Soft light shimmered in his rich brown hair. It defined the muscles of his forearms where his sleeves were rolled up.

  He must have heard the rustle of her skirt when she came down the stairs because he turned his head and smiled. That simple gesture warmed her. A smile was a simple thing, really. One didn’t realize how precious that common
act of friendliness was until it was taken away.

  But quite honestly, there was no denying that Cleve’s smile was anything but common. It made heat simmer low in her belly. It coiled and fluttered to her fingers and toes.

  She most definitely liked Cleve Holden more than a little, for all the good it would do her.

  “Your friend knows her way around the kitchen.” Cleve moved over a foot to give her room to sit down. “This smells good.”

  “Mrs. Jameston, my landlady in Deadwood, taught Dorothy to cook.”

  “I was in Deadwood not long ago—that’s a rough place for a woman. Can’t quite picture you there.” He picked up a fried chicken leg. “Gossip has it you worked a saloon. I’m not sure I believe that.”

  “Gossip has it right. I dealt cards and flirted with men.”

  “We’re kindred spirits, then. I play cards, a gambler by calling. Not much for flirting with men, though.”

  She laughed, and Cleve smiled. It had been too long since she had spent a pleasant time with a handsome man.

  “If the timing had been different we might have met earlier.” He took a bite of chicken, chewed, then swallowed. “Tastes even better than it smells. Dorothy has a gift.”

  “It just goes to show.” Leanna gestured with a fried wing. “If you give someone a hand, who knows what they might accomplish?”

  Cleve rolled the clean chicken bone between his fingers; he stared at the red-and-gold weave of the blanket. For some reason, he sighed.

  A silver moon hung in the sky like a cradle. Lightning bugs darted about, their small lights blinking here and there. Maybe tomorrow night she would let Cabe stay up late enough to see them.

  “You’re such a puzzle, Leanna.” Cleve wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin, set the bone on top of it and leaned toward her. Lines creased his forehead. Clearly, he wanted to put the pieces in order.

  “I’m just your common, grown-up-spoiled, destined-to-become-the-fodder-of-gossip girl…and I have a weakness for pretty clothes.”

  He laughed. The rumble came from deep in his chest. A shiver tightened her belly.

  “That’s what folks believe. I’d wager there’s a lot more to you than that.”

  “Why did you come to Cahill Crossing, Cleve?” She crossed her arms over her bent knees, rested her head on top of them and glanced at him sideways. “I know you have some kind of business to discuss with me. It’s time you did.”

  A lightning bug buzzed her face. Cleve brushed it off but his finger lingered near her skin long after the bug had flown away. She turned her head an inch. He traced the curve of her cheek. The only reason she didn’t kiss that finger was because she’d be mighty embarrassed if he didn’t feel the same attraction to her as she did to him.

  “For a gentleman, you have rugged hands.”

  “For a fallen woman, you have a blush the prettiest shade of pink.”

  Leanna hopped up from the blanket. A blush! How humiliating. She kicked off her shoes and peeled down her stockings. “Even after dark the air’s a blister. Let’s cool our feet in the stream.”

  Cleve stepped into the water a moment after she did with his pant legs rolled to midcalf.

  “If you’re scandalized by a woman’s bare feet you’d best look away.” Not just bare feet but ankles and shins, as well. She kicked a spray of water at him. “I’m afraid that growing up with three older brothers dulled my social sensibilities.”

  He glanced at her feet and shrugged. “Too much importance is placed on social sensibilities.”

  He aimed a spray of water back at her.

  “Oh, this feels good.” She wiggled her toes over smooth, cold stones.

  Cleve reached down. He cupped water in his palm. “Not as good as this.”

  He dribbled a few drops on his neck.

  He flicked the rest on hers. His fingers glistened with moisture. He held her gaze for a moment, then touched her throat, smoothing liquid heat from her jawline to the hollow of her throat and up again. Cool water dripped down her neck. A single drop slipped between her breasts and tickled.

  A firefly blinked between them. Its light flashed, reflecting in the earthy shimmer of his eyes.

  His weight shifted toward her.

  Cleve Holden intended to kiss her. His breath, warm and scented with their recent meal, skimmed her lips. Long seconds passed while he seemed to wait for her to accept the kiss or move away.

  The decision would be hers.

  A mere inch forward would give her what she longed for, to taste Cleve, and to feel him.

  But at what cost?

  He was leaving town, and very soon. What if every kiss she got from here to forever came up short?

  She stepped away and Cleve let her. Half of her wished that he had pulled her back and into his arms, consumed her lips until she didn’t care about tomorrow.

  She walked south, nudging pebbles with her toes. He kept pace beside her, silent, with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  Moonlight shivered in the current. Frogs croaked from the muddy bank.

  “What is it about my little Cabe that draws you?” She stopped walking. Sand and water tickled her feet. “I see how you look at him. Do you have a child, or do you see your sister in him? Or maybe you want to tell me to mind my own business.”

  “Yes…and no. I don’t have a child, and yes, I do see my sister in him.”

  “You don’t want me to mind my own business?”

  He shook his head, snatched her hand and led her along while they shuffled through the shallow stream. The gesture nearly brought her to tears. Folks touched hands all the time but his fingers twining through hers made her imagine that she was special to him.

  Maybe she ought to have let him kiss her.

  “Was she young, then, when she passed?”

  “She was seventeen when she ran away from home, but probably a hundred hard years old when she died,” he murmured.

  “Are you saying…?” She shook her head; now she was asking things that were too personal. “You don’t need to talk about her if it’s too painful.”

  “It is too painful, but I think you are the one person I ought to talk to.”

  They strolled through the water in silence. The battle inside him was plain to see. Keep his demons inside, or let her help him battle them.

  “Our folks died when I was seventeen, my sister was fourteen,” he said at last. “We didn’t have any family to go to but we had the ranch that our folks left. I didn’t know what else to do but keep the place going.”

  “Just like my oldest brother, Quin.” She would ride out to the ranch soon. He probably didn’t want to see her but he had a nephew to meet.

  “It was a hard life, trying to do it on my own and raise a kid sister, but ranching is what I knew…what I loved.”

  She ached for Cleve.

  She ached for Quin. It couldn’t have been easy trying to keep Papa’s dream alive all by himself.

  “We got by for a couple of years, but little girls grow up. She took a fancy to a fellow passing through town. He was a real sweet-talker. He was no good and I told her so. She got angry with me. Said I couldn’t judge someone I’d never even met. She ran off with him and I never saw her again. I got a letter from her, just once, saying that she was sorry…she was…she was in a tough situation. The— Sorry, any word that suits that man wouldn’t be fit for your ears.”

  “Bastard?” she put in helpfully.

  He nodded with his eyebrows disappearing under the hair that dipped over his forehead.

  “Chance wasn’t shy about what he said around me.”

  “All right, then. The bastard left my sister without a word and she was determined to make it on her own.”

  “I’m sorry, Cleve, truly. That’s a common story and horrible every time. If only Hearts for Harlots could have helped her.” He squeezed her hand. “What happened to the ranch?”

  “Once my sister ran off, I lost the heart for it. I guessed the kind of work she would be doing so I took up
gambling in the hopes that I’d come across her one day.”

  “It’s not so difficult for a woman to disappear if she’s set on not being found.”

  “I wish…” He stopped walking, gripped her shoulders, then pivoted her to face him. He lifted her chin. He did not mean to kiss her this time. While his expression was intense, it was not romantic. “You are doing a good thing, Leanna, with Hearts for Harlots.”

  “What was your sister’s name? If she passed through Deadwood, I might remember her.”

  “That’s what I came…” He stared into her eyes for a long time. He gazed so deeply that she thought he might see clear to her soul, to her secret. But then he shook his head.

  “Tell me what’s on your mind, Cleve.”

  “It’s late…I’ve got to go.”

  And he did, just like that.

  She watched him cross the yard in long strides, put on his shoes and disappear into the night.

  Nothing would be gained by postponing, yet again, what needed to be done. This morning would be the last time Cleve would walk from the hotel to Leanna’s Place without confronting her with the fact that he had come to take her son from her.

  He would do it now or not at all. If he couldn’t find the gumption to speak his mind, maybe he didn’t deserve the boy.

  Before stepping off the train in Cahill Crossing, he had been full of conviction. Right was right. That meant raising his sister’s son.

  It meant giving up the life of a gambler and buying a little ranch.

  It meant settling down and finding the boy a suitable mother.

  The hell of it was, Cabe already had a suitable mother who clearly loved him as much as Arden would have.

  Heat pressed in on him as soon as he stepped off the porch of the Château Royale. He took off his coat and loosened his tie but it wasn’t enough. Clouds hovered close to the earth, making the air thick and uncomfortable to breathe.

  By the time he reached Leanna’s Place he felt prickly with sweat and as edgy as a gambler on a losing streak.

  The very last thing he wanted to do was break Leanna Cahill’s heart. She was probably the finest woman he had ever met. She didn’t deserve what he was about to do to her.

 

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