The man whose back was to her was several inches taller than his opponent. He made a striking figure from behind. His shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and he was dressed all in black. Usually, the bad guy wore black, or so she’d read. This was certainly how she’d pictured a cowboy to look.
“I wonder why they are fightin’?” Shannon asked.
“Could be anything,” Shorty answered. “Sometimes it’s just the way a man looks at you.”
Emma and Thelma strolled over to stand beside them. “This isn’t the way we'd like to introduce you to our little town, but out here men and guns are plentiful, so I guess you’d best get used to it, honey.”
“'Tis the same at home,” Shannon said. “Only ‘tis broad swords they use fer weapons.” She glanced back at the combatants in the middle of the dusty dirt street. “After this is over, I'll huv tae send word tae Mr. Griffin that I’ve arrived.”
Emma gave her a strange smile. “No need, honey.”
Confused, Shannon turned to Emma. Something vaguely disturbing tugged at her, warning her that she wasn’t going to like the answer to her next question. “Why?”
“Because Luke Griffin is the tall one out there.” Emma nodded toward the street. “He’s the one dressed in black.”
Speechless, Shannon let her gaze wander over the man. She became aware of the tension and energy about his body that made her think of an animal ready to attack.
So this was her employer. Was the mon crazy? He could be killed and leave his children orphaned. He could be killed and she’d be without a job.
Then what would she do?
Chapter 2
He didn't have time for this shit.
Luke Griffin strode onto the dirt road which was now considered Cottonwood's Main Street. Hell, when he’d first come to this town there had only been one building and no streets. Now Cottonwood was a booming town with ten buildings and one street. However, along with growth came men like Tom Shank, a young gunslinger looking to make a name for himself.
Unfortunately for Shank, he’d picked the wrong man this time 'cause Luke was in a real bad mood, and he wasn’t backing down.
Why some men wouldn’t forget about his past, Luke didn’t know. He was a rancher now. He had a family. What had happened before needed to stay in the past, but some people never forgot.
Usually Luke tried to talk the fools itching for a fight out of gunplay, but this idiot had shot one of his ranch hands in the arm for no good reason. And since Luke was already in a bad mood, it didn’t take much to push him into a fight.
Someone had rustled five of his steers this morning, and if that wasn’t bad enough, the nanny he'd hired for his children had yet to arrive. She should have been here a month ago. Where in the Sam Hill she was he didn’t know. He didn’t have the time to track her whereabouts or the patience to keep his children out of trouble and run a ranch, too.
Luke stopped once he reached the middle of the street, then turned and faced the gunslinger. He should be afraid, but he wasn’t. Fear was something a man felt when he wasn’t sure of his ability. That wasn’t the case with Luke. The man walking toward him had come to kill for no good reason except to add a notch on his belt.
Tom Shank stopped and took position, hand hovering over the Colt strapped around his hip. He flexed his fingers as he waited, trying to intimidate his opponent.
Luke didn’t intimidate.
He wondered how many men the kid had killed, but it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t about to let him add any more to his count. He scanned the boardwalks, remembering Shank had ridden into town with two other men. The moment Luke thought of them, he knew they were hidden somewhere, poised to make sure if Shank went down, so would his opponent – mainly, him.
Luke spotted one of the sidewinders in the shadows, rifle in hand, lifting it to take aim. He didn't wait to see what the fellow’s intentions were; he fired one shot over Shank's head, and the other man hit the ground. Even from this distance, Luke saw Shank quivering.
So much for his courage.
Without pausing to think, Luke swung and fired at the second shadow. At the same moment, he heard a burst of gunfire coming from his right, so he went down on one knee and fired toward the sound, taking out a third man, one he hadn’t recalled seeing before.
Shank had gotten to his feet and stood glaring at him. Luke saw him flex a split-second before Shank went for his gun. He was fast, but Luke was faster. He crouched and fired, taking the gunslinger out.
For a moment, there was no sound, nothing but silence, reminding Luke of the many times in his youth that he'd been in this same spot before, facing gunslingers looking to kill just for the fun of it.
A chill skittered down his spine. Thank goodness that kind of life was behind him. He didn't want it anymore. He’d tried to move on. If only the rest of the world would let him.
The good people of Cottonwood spilled out into the street from the safety of their stores and shops to see what had happened close up and to ask Luke if he was all right.
“I'm fine, Ralph,” Luke told the undertaker, who was the first to reach him. “Look, I'll pay for their wooden boxes. Guess everybody deserves a final resting place. Theirs will be Cottonwood.”
Someone placed a hand on his arm and Luke swung around, ready to fight. It was Lois, the woman who ran the only place where a man could get a decent meal in these parts.
“Are you all right, honey?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.
He knew Lois was sweet on him, and she was nice enough, he supposed. It would be an easy solution to some of his problems to marry her. Then his children would have a mother to care for them, but it wouldn’t be right to do that to Lois. Luke didn’t think he could ever have feelings for anyone again. He still loved Ruth, his late wife, and doubted he’d ever find another woman like her.
Realizing he hadn’t answered Lois, Luke took a breath and said, “Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked around. “Sorry you folks had to see this, but it’s all over now.”
“They were out lookin' for trouble. Wer’n’t nothin' you could do to stop ‘em,” Ralph said.
“Doesn't mean I have to like it.” Luke rubbed the back of his neck, aching to get the kinks out. All of a sudden he felt tired, damned tired. “I’d best get my supplies and head back to the ranch. I don’t need any more trouble today.”
Luke’s foreman strode over. “That's the damnedest thing I've ever seen,” Wilson said. “And the very reason I work for you, boss,” he added with a smile.
Luke quirked his brow. “I thought you worked for me ‘cause I pay you handsomely,” he drawled dryly. “Let's head back.”
“Look.” Wilson pointed toward the outskirts of town. “There’s the mail coach. Might as well stay and check the mail while we're here.”
Luke turned and glanced toward the stage. Shorty ushered his passengers back toward the mail coach then climbed back up to the driver's seat.
“I’ve finished loading the wagon,” Luke told Wilson then added, “If you’ll bring it over to the post office, I’ll meet you there. Did Doc tend to your wound?”
“Yeah, boss. Said I was lucky the bullet just tore the flesh.”
“Good.” Luke nodded as he watched Shorty open the stage door. “I see the Miller sisters have returned to town,” he commented. “I’ll get the mail. Maybe I'll have some word as to why my nanny hasn't shown up yet.”
“Okay, ladies, back in the stage,” Shorty yelled. “I'll take you on to the depot. Won’t be but a minute or two.”
“'Tis sae close, can we not walk the distance?” Shannon asked, having no desire to climb back into the rickety box.
“Nope. Can’t do it.” Shorty shook his head. “It's my dang job to take you to your proper destination along with the mail. You don’t want me gettin’ in trouble, do you?” he asked with eyebrows raised.
“I suppose not,” Shannon said with a sigh as she climbed back into the small compartment, which she’d hoped never to see aga
in. The stage lurched into motion.
A wave of apprehension swept through Shannon, but she didn’t have long to think about it because they had reached the post office. She had wanted adventure, but somehow her stomach had forgotten that brave statement and was twisting itself into knots. Of course, she’d never expected to see anything like what she’d just witnessed. It was different from home -- people fighting for apparently no good reason.
Smoothing her fingers over her taffeta skirt, Shannon wondered how she was going to adjust to this strange land so different from home. Still, she sensed that below the surface many things were the same in Texas as in her homeland. The violence she’d witnessed in the street was a part of this life.
She’d read about gunfights. She just hadn’t expected to see one so soon. It was frightening in person, especially when her employer was involved. But then, Shannon thought, she could handle just about anything as long as it kept her away from her da.
She straightened her green jacket, hoping to appear like a professional nanny who knew what she was doing. Her hair was twisted into a tight knot to make her look older, and she tried to look prim and proper by holding her head high, her chin up.
The door to the coach swung open. “Ladies, welcome to Cottonwood,” Shorty said with a smile. Then he added, “Again.”
Emma and Thelma climbed clumsily out of the stage, but Shannon held back for a moment so she could observe the townspeople before they noticed her. Immediately, she saw Luke Griffin, her new employer, who apparently had come to greet the stage. She didn’t think he’d come to meet her since she was over a month late.
Mr. Griffin’s tall, lean body was clothed in a casual style that was nothing like what proper Englishmen wore, yet his black trousers seemed very appropriate in this setting. His hair was thick and unfashionably long, but it most certainly looked grand on him. The color was different – not brown nor blond, perhaps the color of a hickory nut described it best. Shannon wished she could see his eyes. Uncle Jackson had always said one could tell the cut of a man by looking into his eyes, and apparently he had been right.
“Shorty,” Luke said with a curt nod. At the sound of his voice, Shannon felt an odd sort of chill. His voice was rich, deep, and commanding. “Do you have some mail for us?”
“Yep,” Shorty said, then reached for two brown mail sacks. “Got you a bigger package, too.” He grinned, adding, “Just glad you’re around to take it.” He tossed the bags to Luke. “That fellow get you riled up?”
Luke caught the leather satchels. “Just somebody looking to make a name for himself. This time he looked in the wrong place.”
Dangerous, Shannon thought. This was a man who killed and then went about his business as if it were no different than giving Shorty the time of day. So why did she find Mr. Griffin so fascinating? Could she be a bit daft?
“Well, we are mighty glad to have you around to protect the townsfolk,” Emma said.
Luke swung toward them. Shannon could see there was an inherent strength in his face. “I haven't taken the job of sheriff yet, ladies. I do what I can. If it were up to me there would be no gunplay. I've seen more than enough in my life.”
“At least one of your worries are over,” Thelma told him.
Luke's brow shot up. “Oh?”
“We've brought the nanny for your children.”
“Well, it's about damn time! Excuse me, ladies,” Luke apologized. “Where is she?” he turned and looked behind him to make sure he hadn't walked past her. That made Shannon smile.
“Still in the carriage,” Emma said with a swing of her hand.
Mr. Griffin frowned. “Does she need help getting out?”
“Don’t be shy, Shannon, dear,” Emma called. “Come on out and meet Luke.”
Shannon took a deep breath, gathered her skirts and slid across the bench toward the door. She took the hand that was offered to her only to find, once she had touched the ground, it was Luke to whom the hand belonged.
In that brief instant as their eyes met, Shannon realized Luke was a commanding figure, indeed. Not only did she see determination in his gaze, but also sadness that he probably hid most of the time.
Suddenly, she felt hot all over as if someone had lit a match to her toes, and it had nothing to do with the weather in Texas. Mr. Griffin stared at her openly, and his frank assessment made her squirm. In spite of her uneasiness, Shannon noticed that his eyes were green like hers. Something told her he also had a temper to match her own.
This could be a problem.
Shannon removed her hand from his and took a step back to put a little distance between them. “Mr. Griffin, I'm Shannon McKinley, your new nanny.”
Mr. Griffin didn't say a word. Instead, he gazed at her for several long, silent moments, searching every inch of her face. For what he was looking, she didn’t know. Still, she didn't flinch. “Don’t ye know ‘tis impolite tae stare?”
He still didn’t answer.
“Do ye not huv a tongue, mon?”
“I agree with the child,” Thelma scolded. “You are being rude, Luke Griffin! I'm sure Shannon must be hungry after such a long trip. Perhaps, you both would like to come to our house for supper before heading back to Star Ranch.”
“I appreciate your offer, ladies.” Luke nodded to the ladies before he turned back and said, “But Miss McKinley and I have a few things to discuss. We'll take supper at the Blue Bell.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have insisted that Mr. Griffin speak, Shannon thought. She wasn't sure she cared for his tone of voice. He most certainty sounded irritated.
However, she knew it was probably just as well that they didn't have an audience for their discussion. She sensed he wasn’t exactly pleased with her. And, of course, she was certain she knew the reason.
Shannon followed him to the boardinghouse, trotting to keep up with his long strides. Mr. Griffin said nothing else until they were seated at a small table in the corner of the Blue Bell. The eating establishment was a far cry from the places where she’d eaten back home. All the tables were covered with worn, blue gingham tablecloths, but Shannon was so hungry she really didn’t care.
“'Tis lovely tae sit at a real table fer a meal, Mr. Griffin,” Shannon said with a smile, hoping to ease the tension crackling between them.
He didn't smile back.
Instead he took a deep breath and leaned forward, his arms propped on the table. “Let’s cut straight to the point. I do believe, Miss McKinley, that I advertised for an older woman, capable of taking care of my children,” Luke told her in a low voice, his stern-faced expression speaking volumes. “You are anything but old.”
“I know what ye are sayin’, but I'm older than I look,” Shannon informed him. “I dinna believe that the advertisement stated that I had tae be an exact age. Ye need tae think o’ it as gettin' more fer yer money. I’m sure ye’ll find I can keep up with yer wee bairns better than someone o’ a matronly age.”
“You lied, Miss McKinley.”
“Nae.” She shook her head. “I dinna lie. Ye just see old differently than I.”
He paused while the waitress placed two steaming plates of stew in front of them.
“Enjoy your stew, Luke,” the woman said with a special smile. “And you be sure to save room for some of my apple pie, honey. I know how much you like it.” She then looked at Shannon. “Is this your new nanny?”
“Yes, I am,” Shannon said before Luke could reply.
“Welcome to Cottonwood, hon. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.” The woman wasn’t much older than Shannon, and she was lovely in a plump sort of way, however she looked tired and weary. But she did seem to have an interest in Mr. Griffin, Shannon noticed as the woman smiled once again at him before turning to leave. Maybe this woman could be his future wife and then he wouldn’t need a nanny. Heaven forbid.
“You're not staying,” Luke informed Shannon curtly. Then he picked up his fork and began to eat as if everything were decided.
“Ye dinna
appear tae be an unreasonable mon,” Shannon said, her accent growing thicker with her aggravation. “What does age huv tae do with carin’ fer yer bairns?”
“My what?”
“Yer bairns ... wee ones.”
“Children?” he clarified.
Shannon nodded and reached for her glass.
“Look at you,” Luke said, pointing his fork at her.
Shannon sat back in her chair, her brow arched. She immediately set her glass back on the table to refrain from throwing the contents in his face. “And what exactly is wrong with me?”
“You’re too frail. There is no meat on your bones. This land is harsh. I don't want to bury you, too.”
“I dinna intend tae die, as yer poor wife did, Mr. Griffin.” Shannon realized she’d made a mistake by mentioning his wife the minute Luke’s expression clouded in anger. “I may be a wee bit small, but I’m sturdy and strong.”
“Do not speak about my wife,” Luke said. “You know nothing about her. I assume you heard gossip from the two old biddies on the stage,” he snapped, his curtness lashing out at her. He didn’t ask the last as a question, because he knew the answer.
Shannon could see he was a bit touchy where his late wife was concerned, but she wasn’t finished. And she refused to be judged by this stubborn man.
“And ye know nothin’ about me, either. Yet ye sit there judging me by my appearance,” she managed to reply through stiff lips. “I'm a Highlander. I come from a harsh land. I do admit that yer country is different, but ‘tis harsh nonetheless. Where mine is green, yer country is brown and could use a few trees. We endure cold summer rains and harsh winters where yer summers are hot and dry, but I’ll huv ye know I'm not the frail wee thing ye seem tae think I am, mon. And I assure ye, I'm quite capable o’ takin' care o’ yer bairns.” She paused and took a breath. “I understand from the Millers that ye be needin' the help now, and I seem tae be the only person steppin’ up.”
Luke took a sip of coffee before he answered. He smiled benignly as if dealing with a temperamental child. “You’ll not survive out here. I know. Like you’ve already been told, I buried my wife, and she was bigger than you are. You'll never make it.”
Western Seduction (The Seduction Series Book 2) Page 2
