Tempting a Texan

by Carolyn Davidson

  “You’ve been on my trail, trying to have me killed?” Nicholas asked.

  “Now, why would I do that? I only learned from your wire two weeks ago that you were here, and that you claimed to be my son.”

  “Claimed?” Nicholas shot him a scornful glance, then turned aside. “You find it difficult to believe?”

  Horace Grayson shook his head. “No, I don’t suppose so. You have the Grayson eyes. You resemble your sister, Irene.”

  “I didn’t expect you to show up here,” Nicholas said harshly. “I only asked a favor of you because my wife insisted you could help. That you would because of Irene’s daughter.”

  The reply was slow in coming, and the words were harsh, uttered as if they were dragged from the depths of the man. “My grandchild?”

  “Irene left her for me to raise,” Nicholas said firmly. “The will is watertight.”

  The older man lifted his hand in a silent gesture of agreement. “Perhaps. Probably. Joseph Carmichael was a brilliant man. He would have seen to it. But, know this, Mr. Garvey. If I wanted it to come about, I could have the child.”

  Nicholas eyed him coolly. “You have that much power?”

  “If I didn’t, you’d be dead right now. Preston’s after you.”

  The sheriff moved, catching Nicholas’s eye, and his face was a study in curiosity. “You want to introduce me to this fella, Garvey?” he asked. “I’m getting the message that he isn’t the one who wants you dead and buried.”

  The shopkeeper darted from sight within the store, and the sheriff stepped into the doorway. “Don’t be thinking about sending out a wire anytime soon, Metcalf,” he called into the dim interior. “You’re walkin’ a tightrope right now.”

  Then he turned back to Nicholas and waited expectantly.

  “This man is Horace Grayson, Sheriff. Unofficially, he’s my father. But, bear in mind, this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on the man. And he still hasn’t claimed me on any level. Only acknowledged that we share the same blood-line.”

  “I didn’t know you were craving a father’s love, Garvey.” The words were taunting, and Nicholas’s hands formed fists at his sides. “I don’t owe you anything, boy. I took care of Irene while she lived, and would have tended the child after her parents died. But I won’t allow Preston’s hands to touch the girl.”

  “And how can you guarantee that small miracle?”

  “Preston is dealing with a judge who owes me plenty. I put him on the bench, and I can take him off if he doesn’t cooperate.”

  Nicholas considered Horace Grayson’s words. “I still don’t see why you came here. You could have sent me a wire and let me know what you were doing.” And then he remembered something, and cursed himself silently for relaxing his guard for even this short time.

  “Was that you, out at the edge of the woods this morning just about dawn?”

  “This morning? Hardly. I came in on the early train. At dawn, I was asleep in my railroad car. I only came here because I want to see the child.”

  Nicholas turned to the sheriff. “I’d say we still have a problem to solve then, Brace. The man I saw early on this morning is still out there somewhere, and I’ve left Lin and Amanda at the ranch.”

  “Did you tell Faith to join them?” Brace asked. “She can shoot better than most men, and she carries a gun.”

  “There are two guns at the house,” Nicholas said quietly. “But they’re still just two women and a little girl. And we don’t know how many men Preston has in his employ.”

  “Well, I’m puttin’ old Metcalf in a cell till we get back,” Brace decided. “I won’t take a chance on him sending any more notes to his friend in Dallas.” He entered the store and walked to the back, returning moments later, empty-handed. “He must have scooted out the back door,” he said gruffly. “I’m heading for the railroad station. See if I can head him off.”

  Snatching up a pair of reins from the hitching rail in front of the store, he lifted himself easily into the saddle. “Tell whoever comes lookin’ for this horse that I borrowed it,” he said with a nod. His heels dug into the animal’s sides and dust flew from beneath the horse’s shod feet as he dug for purchase in the dusty road.

  “Where is your place?” Horace asked, tugging his vest into place, eyeing the road that led from town. “Is there a decent conveyance available?”

  “The livery stable should have something you can use. It’s down at the end of the street. Can’t miss it. A big red barn full of horses and rigs.” Nicholas turned to walk away, crossing the road to where his own mare stood in front of the sheriff’s office.

  “How will I find you?” Horace asked harshly.

  “Follow my tracks.”

  “Linnie?” The woebegone voice called from the bedroom, and Lin pushed away from the table, her chair clattering to the floor.

  “I’m coming, sweetie,” she sang out, almost running in her haste to reach the child. “I’m here, Amanda.” And indeed she was, crossing the threshold into the little girl’s bedroom in mere seconds.

  Amanda sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “I slept a long time, didn’t I? I heard a dog barking, and I thought I was dreaming, ’cause it was still almost dark out.” And then she blinked and her blue eyes opened wide, fixing on Lin. “We really do have a dog, don’t we? And we’re gonna call him Wolf, aren’t we?”

  “We’ll call him whatever you like,” Lin said, thinking to herself that no dog had ever looked less like the tawny, wild creatures that had haunted the forests in books she’d read as a child. But if Amanda was set on naming the pup, it would be as she said.

  “Come on, sweetie. I’ll fix you breakfast. Your dog is in the kitchen, sleeping by the door. You can play with him indoors this morning, after you eat.”

  “Well, I better get dressed, then,” Amanda chirped, tossing back the sheet.

  “Perhaps Faith will help you dress, out in the kitchen,” Lin told her, choosing clothing from the trunk near the window. A growl from the kitchen alerted her and she stiffened, aware of the dog’s warning.

  A flash of color caught her eye and she stepped closer to the window, the better to see through the pane of glass. Beyond the barn, a chestnut-colored horse was half revealed, an empty saddle and switching tail visible to view. Lin held her breath, her eyes straining to catch any movement, at the same time searching her mind for direction.

  Keep that shotgun handy…and Amanda with you. “I’m trying to do that, Nicholas,” she murmured, aware that the long gun was in the kitchen, loaded and waiting beside the pantry door.

  “What did you say, Linnie?” Amanda wandered to stand beside her, and Lin snatched her from in front of the window.

  “I said you must be hungry,” she prevaricated quickly, grasping the child’s hand and leading her from the bedroom. The pup stood uncertainly in front of the door, barking once when he caught sight of them.

  “You slept in this morning, didn’t you?” Faith asked Amanda, and then her gaze flew to touch upon Lin’s taut features. “Something has the dog riled,” she said quietly.

  “There’s an extra weapon in the pantry, Faith. You might want to make sure it’s ready in case you need to use it,” Lin said.

  “All right.” As casually as if she were told to arm herself on a daily basis, Faith rose and went inside the narrow closet that held kitchenware and foodstuffs. A rifle was on the top shelf, out of Amanda’s view and reach, a box of shells beside it. From the kitchen, Lin heard the rattle of metal and the sound of bullets being loaded.

  “I think we’re all set,” Faith said, carrying the gun upright and placing it on the floor beneath the kitchen window. Standing to one side, she moved the curtain a bit, revealing a view of the barn and outbuildings. “Nice mare out there,” she said quietly. “Not yours?”

  “No,” Lin said. “I think we have company.”

  The pup was stiff-legged and alert, his hackles rising as he viewed the door. Faith lifted the rifle from the floor, and levered a
bullet, readying the weapon for firing. “Two men,” she said quietly. “One in the barn door, the other behind the tree just to the east of the house.”

  “Anyone you recognize?” And wasn’t that foolish, Lin thought, as soon as the words were out of her mouth. These men were sent from back East, hired gunmen, no doubt, not anyone Faith would be familiar with.

  “Don’t think so,” Faith said. “Small arms. Look like regulation army issue to me. Not that I’m any expert. I only know how to aim and fire, when the need arises.”

  “What’s happening?” Amanda asked, her words a whisper, her eyes huge with fear. Kneeling before the sink, her hands clasped in her lap, she looked up at Lin, even as tears streaked her face. “I want my uncle Nicholas,” she sobbed.

  “So do I, sweetie. But we don’t have him right now. We’ll have to fend for ourselves.”

  The pup had taken up barking, a sharp, harsh sound, different from his playful yapping that had only signified his pleasure in their company. Now he combined a growl with a warning bark, and from outdoors a call answered his challenge.

  “You, there in the house. We want to see you on the porch.”

  Faith laughed aloud. “They must think we’re fools.”

  “No, they think we’re city folk, used to fearing for our lives from the scum of society.”

  Faith smiled, a cool rebuttal to that thought. “Well, they’ve got a surprise coming, I’d say. I didn’t spend hours on end firing a gun to give up so easily to a couple of bullies.”

  “Are you good?”

  “Wanna watch me?” Faith asked boldly. She lifted the window, two inches perhaps, then slid the barrel of the rifle through the opening. Kneeling, she directed the gun toward the barn and held it against her shoulder. Even as Lin watched her finger squeezed gently at the trigger, and with an impact that rattled the windowpanes, a shot rang out.

  “Well, damn!” From the barn, a voice called out, and in slow motion a man slid down the edge of the doorframe to settle in the dust, leaning against the jamb. One hand still held a revolver, but it lay in the dirt. His other hand was clutching at a wound, high on his right arm, and blood was staining his shirt sleeve.

  “They got me,” he called out, and from the shelter of the huge tree that shaded the house from the early morning sun, another shot rang out. The windowpane shattered over Faith’s head and glass scattered across the kitchen floor.

  “Are you cut?” Lin asked quickly, standing in front of Amanda to shield her from any possible harm.

  Faith shook her head, shifting to the other side of the window to take aim at the man, almost fully hidden behind the tree. “No,” she said shortly, levering another shell into the barrel, “but that jackass is about to discover he’s met his match.”

  Her rifle fired and she uttered a quiet oath, then turned her head toward Lin. “Take the shotgun and go into the parlor. He’s gone around the corner of the house. I’m letting the dog out.”

  “All right.” Lin snatched up the gun from beside the door and dragged Amanda with her, leaving her in the small, central hallway. “Stay put, you hear me?” Lin said harshly, and barely noticed the nod the child offered in response.

  Next to the solid front door, a window exploded as a bullet shattered one of the panes of glass, and then buried itself in the far wall. “Y’all better come on out of there,” a voice called from the front yard. “I’m gonna set the house on fire if you don’t get out on the porch right now.”

  Lin crept across the floor, lest she be seen through the remaining, intact panes of glass and lifted to her knees just beyond the window. From behind one of the tall trees in the front yard, a man was partially exposed, his hand holding a revolver aimed at the house.

  How much good the shotgun would do, she had no idea, for the target exposed did not lend itself to the scattered shot she would produce with the fat shells the gun held. And she would only have two chances to hit him without reloading. The extra shells were in the pantry, where they could do her no good, and she silently cursed her lack of forethought.

  And then the man moved, apparently feeling safe given the lack of response from the house. Peering out from behind the tree, he took one step, then another, exposing himself.

  Lin held the gun against her shoulder, sighting down the barrel as Nicholas had shown her. She rested it on the empty windowpane, and waited, hoping against hope she would not have to shoot another human being.

  The shooter’s attention was drawn away by a shout from the back of the house, and then the sound of a barking dog as Wolf dug in with his claws, body low to the ground as he rounded the side of the building.

  “Damn dog,” the man said, turning his revolver in Wolf’s direction and lifting his arm to fire.

  Lin hesitated no longer, her index finger squeezing the first trigger. The shot fanned out as it reached the assailant, and she heard his howl of pain, watched as he doubled over, holding his belly with both arms. And then he lifted the gun again as he fell forward, and fired wildly toward the house.

  She felt the shock of a bullet, knew a moment of burning pain in her shoulder, and then was catapulted backward from the window.

  Nicholas came up the lane at a gallop, his horse shedding foam, the animal’s sides heaving with the effort of the prolonged run. Easing up on the reins, he allowed the mare to slow her pace, even as he took note of the broken pane of window glass in the parlor, in the same glance spotting the man who lay crumpled next to a tree, not fifty feet from the house.

  From the porch, Wolf barked a welcome, and Nicholas called out the pup’s new name, releasing the dog from his guard post. Tearing across the yard, he spared but one short sniff at the prone figure he passed, then dashed to trot proudly beside Nicholas as the mare made her way with caution around the corner of the house.

  “Wolf.” The single word came from the back, and the pup looked up at Nicholas. Then, torn between the soft voice calling him and the man he had welcomed, he dashed to answer the woman’s summons.

  “Lin?” Nicholas spoke her name quietly, and even as he uttered the sound, he knew it was not his wife’s voice he’d heard.

  “Faith?” His horse rounded the corner, and he scanned the yard, suddenly aware of the man who leaned heavily against the barn. His sleeve bright red with bloodstains, he nevertheless attempted to lift the revolver he held, and Nicholas drew his own gun from his belt and aimed it with care.

  “If you value your life, you’ll drop that weapon,” he said. And then, as the man resolutely shifted, still trying to aim the gun, Nicholas fired, only once. But it was enough to halt the movement, the shot entering high on the felon’s shoulder. His gun dropped to the dirt, useless, and the man groaned loudly.

  “Nicholas?” Faith stepped out onto the porch, rifle in hand. “I didn’t want to kill him, but I had my eye on him.”

  “Where’s Lin?” he asked. “Who shot the fella in the front yard?”

  “Lin,” she answered. “But he put a bullet in her, Nicholas. Come inside.”

  He slid from the mare and was on the porch in two steps. Faith held the door wide and he entered, blinking at the dim light. “Where is she?”

  “Uncle Nicholas.” From the small hallway, Amanda’s cry was broken by tears, and she walked toward him. “My Linnie isn’t awake, Uncle Nicholas. Come see.”

  He brushed past her into the parlor, where the sun’s rays had penetrated through the side window and now illuminated Lin’s body. The shimmering sunlight almost seemed an obscenity, bringing brilliance to her russet hair, and revealing sharply the lines of her face.

  “Lin.” Dropping to his knees beside her, Nicholas was unaware of Faith in the doorway, uncaring of the dog who sat at Lin’s feet, unable to think of anything but the sight before his eyes. A towel was bound in a makeshift fashion to her shoulder, and even as he made to lift it, Faith stopped him with a bloodied hand.

  “No, leave it be until I can find bandages and we can get her on the bed. I’d have her there already, but
I had to keep watch out back until you returned.”

  “You find the bandages and I’ll carry her into the bedroom,” he said roughly. He glanced up then at Faith, and her quick, uneven smile halted his worst fear. “Will she make it?” he asked, even as she nodded with assurance.

  “It’s gone straight through, and I don’t think it even hit the bone,” she told him. “There’s a lot of blood, but we can stop that, once we get it cleaned up.”

  “All right,” he said, relief washing through him. He lifted the prone woman, held her tightly to his chest and rose to his feet, barely noticing the weight of her slender form. Amanda followed forlornly behind as he carried Lin across the hallway to the back bedroom where they had, just a short time ago, risen from the rumpled sheets.

  “There’s a lot of blood, Uncle Nicholas,” Amanda said in a whisper. “Is my Linnie gonna be all right?” And at Nicholas’s quick nod of assurance, the child stood aside, watching as Lin was placed on the mattress.

  “Go get a couple of towels,” Nicholas told her briefly. “See if you can help Faith.”

  “All right,” Amanda answered, and her feet flew as she shot across the room and went to the kitchen. “My uncle Nicholas said I should help,” he heard her say.

  Faith appeared in the doorway, carrying a basin of water, a box tucked beneath her arm. “I found everything you’ll need in the pantry, Nicholas. Amanda has the towels and an old sheet we can use as bandage. I’m going back to the kitchen to keep an eye out. I don’t trust that there might not be more of those rascals around.”

  “Well, if you see a distinguished gentleman riding up in a buggy, don’t shoot him,” Nicholas thought to tell her. “He’s on his way. If he didn’t get lost. I won’t guarantee how good he is at tracking.”

  “Hmm…” Faith said, flashing him an enquiring look. “That sounds interesting.”

  And then she nodded at Lin. “Do you know what to do?”

  “I’ll manage,” he said. “I’ve seen gunshot wounds before.”

  “And isn’t that something I’ll want to ask questions about later?” she said, returning to her vigil in the kitchen.