Beautiful Bad Man (8 page)

To her relief, he didn’t hold a chair for her or do any of those other foolish things Mrs. Tindell expected of her husband. By the time Norah seated herself, the other diners were at least pretending they’d lost interest in the Widow Hawkins and Van Cleve’s gunman.

“Your eyes are blue.”

He sounded surprised, and Norah stopped looking everywhere but at Caleb Sutton. The shadowy light in the room made it easier. “You sound surprised. A lot of people have blue eyes.”

“I am surprised. That day in your yard they were gray. I didn’t think eyes could change like that.”

“They didn’t change. It was an overcast day, and I.... You didn’t get a good look is all.”

He made a sound of disbelief. “Your eyes aren’t all that’s different. You’re still too skinny, but you look good. I always knew the Girl would be pretty.”

She opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t think of a thing to say. Was he making fun? She decided to pretend he hadn’t said it, but the floaty feeling came back, just a little.

“Do you know I’ve never eaten in a restaurant before? I don’t know what to do.”

“All you have to do is eat. You’ve never been any place to eat? Not even back where you came from?”

“Baltimore. Papa did, and he took Mama sometimes, but my sisters and I never went.”

“In cities they have restaurants ten times this big with white cloths on the tables and chandeliers overhead, but this isn’t bad for Hubbell.”

“It’s nice. Kind of cozy really, and oh, does that mean we can choose?” She tipped her head toward the large slate board hanging on the wall beside the open door to the kitchen. Chicken, beef, pork were written there, one below the other.

“Usually. Sometimes they forget to erase if they run out of something. Remember, Tommy back there is some behind you as a cook.”

“There were lumps in my gravy tonight.”

“There are lumps in his every night.”

She laughed, glad to be free and away from the Tindells, amused by the covert glances at Caleb from two young women across the room. Curiosity provoked those glances. And envy. Scary or not, he was handsome in a dangerous way. Light from the nearest lamp picked out gold glints in his hair and in the two-day beard growth covering the lean cheeks and jaw.

The gun belt over gray wool trousers emphasized his lean hips, and the blue flannel shirt did the same to his shoulders. Or maybe the clothes had nothing to do with it. Other men in the small restaurant sported suits, white shirts, and collars with ties. Compared to Caleb Sutton they all looked tame and — ordinary.

Tonight she didn’t care if he was one of Webster Van Cleve’s hired killers and should probably be in prison. She was out in the night. He’d said she was pretty and a good cook, and once long ago he had been the Boy.

Tommy’s cooking was as advertised. One side of her pork chop was black, and both the mashed potatoes and the gravy over them were lumpy.

Norah hardly noticed. Unlike Joe, who always ate with single-minded devotion to his food, Caleb showed a sociable streak.

“Did the old bat give you a hard time about coming out tonight?”

“She’s not that bad. She was — nosy.”

“She’s afraid you’re meeting some beau and might be on your way to remarrying, and she’d lose you.”

Norah paused, fork in midair. She decided to ignore the beau part. “She’d rather have notice so she could go straight from me to someone new, but she wouldn’t mind losing me. She’s used to unsatisfactory help and having to find replacements.”

“You’re not unsatisfactory. Tindell’s telling everyone in his saloon they should place their bets months further on. He likes your cooking, and she admits you’re the best worker they ever had.”

“I don’t believe it. She never said anything like that.”

“Of course not. You might want more money.”

“She’s paying me ten dollars a month.”

His brows went up slightly. “That is pretty good. Have they got you eating their leftovers?”

“You shouldn’t believe the worst of everyone. I cook enough for all of us, and I set mine aside before I serve. I’m eating like royalty.”

“Better than this then.”

“Better food, but eating alone in the kitchen... I
like
this, Caleb. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“No one’s called me Caleb for a long time. Just Cal.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t call you either. Mr. Sutton. I’m sorry.”

“Given names are fine with me. After all we have history.”

Still flustered, Norah said, “I shouldn’t.... If you don’t like Caleb I won’t.... Did your uncle call you that?”

“No, he never called me by my name that I can remember. The one who called me Caleb....” He gave her an assessing look before reaching for his coffee. “Go ahead and use Caleb. It’s good.”

Scars stood out on his hands, straight white lines, thin and thick, short and long. The fact she hadn’t noticed before proved how much he had upset her that day in the house.

“I didn’t make those scars, did I?”

She almost bit her tongue, embarrassed to have asked anything that personal and rude. What was the matter with her tonight? Before she could withdraw the question and apologize, he answered.

“Only one.” He traced one thin line that ran from the base of a thumb and disappeared under his shirt sleeve. “I’d still owe you if you made them all.”

“You really don’t owe me anything. You never did, but if you felt you needed to do something, you did more than enough.”

He ignored her, still fingering the scars. “The rest are from skinning knives. After I got away from your wagons, I skinned for the buffalo hunter who found me for a few years. When I started, the other skinners thought it was funny to jerk the hide so the knife slipped.”

“But that’s dangerous.”

“It was all dangerous.”

“What did you mean when you said that buffalo hunter thought you owed him forever for saving you?”

“He thought he had a slave for life, and for five years, he did.”

“And then you left him?”

“And then I killed him.”

She gasped and dropped the fork.

“Why the surprise?” he asked. “You know what I am. Not worth saving, right?”

One corner of his mouth curled in a cynical half-smile, and his dark eyes chilled her to the bone. Once she had thought brown eyes always warm. No more. Why would he tell her a thing like that? To scare her, that’s why. Her first instinct, to jump out of the chair and run, died.

“If you’ve changed your mind and don’t want company for supper, say so. Otherwise stop trying to spoil my first time in a restaurant.”

The half-smile widened into a real one, even if it was in that controlled, inward way.

They ate in silence for a few moments before he said, “Talking about slaves, you can’t mean to be that old lady’s slave forever. What are you going to do?”

“Not kill her.”

He ignored both her tone and the words. “Now that you’ve cleaned out your place, are you going to sell?”

“How do you know I cleaned it out?”

“I stopped by to see how you were doing yesterday. I figured you had to be in town and came looking.”

“Well, I’m not selling. The Carburys helped me pack and store things in their barn. I’m going to work here as long as I can, and then I’ll have cash money and can go home.”

“Go home and do what? Sit and starve again?”

The harsh growl of his voice had people at other tables turning to stare, then looking away quickly. Norah didn’t want to quarrel with him in public. In fact she didn’t want to quarrel with him at all. Not tonight. Tonight was going to be a good memory in spite of him.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll think of something. I always wanted goats, but Joe wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Goats.”

At least that took the snarl out of him. “Goats. On our way out here all those years ago, we met a farmer who kept goats. He told us how they’re much easier to keep than cows. They give a lot of milk for their size, and since you don’t keep just one, they don’t all freshen and go dry at the same time, so you always have milk. You can sell goats’ milk. And cheese.

“Cheese.”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Or if not that, something else. If I can keep earning long enough and save, I can find a way. Mr. Van Cleve’s last offer for the farm was a hundred dollars, you know. I can earn that in ten months.”

“Van Cleve and Preston will be after you again if you go back. So long as you’re in town, you’re safe, but I can’t keep them away from you much longer. I’ve been thinking of moving on.”

Good. With luck he’d stop thinking about it and do it. One night like this to leave everyday cares behind and eat in a restaurant was a treat, and she wanted to erase the memory of that terrible shrieking time, but she didn’t want him in her life.

“Where will you go?”

“West. It’s a big land.”

“I’m glad you’re going to quit working for Mr. Van Cleve. I can’t understand a man like that. Why is he so greedy? He has so much land. Even when he first started pushing people out years ago, he already had so much.”

“Some men are just made that way. If he owned everything from here to the Mississippi, he’d start coveting everything to the ocean.”

“And you, Caleb Sutton? Are you just made a certain way? Couldn’t you live some other way?”

“I don’t want to live another way. Look around you. Everyone you see is either predator or prey, wolf or rabbit. Wolf is better.”

Norah feigned interest in the last of her meal. She didn’t want to see the world in such stark terms. She didn’t want to hear any more ugly things from Caleb Sutton.

They avoided touchy subjects after that and walked back to Tindells’ in silence. Safely inside with the door locked behind her, Norah leaned her head against the door and listened as his footsteps crunched on the gravel walk and faded away.

A
NIGHT IN
the hotel left Cal scratching at red welts and determined never to set foot in the place again. Yet hopping the first train out of Hubbell was no longer possible.

Last night Norah Hawkins had been the kind of woman he’d always pictured the Girl growing to be.

The first sight of her hanging laundry in Tindells’ yard had been a pleasant surprise. The dark hair made such a thick knot at the back of her neck he had to wonder how long that hair would be down. Her face was still too thin, but her eyes no longer looked like bruises. She was pretty, even if that big white apron and the colorless shawl that didn’t seem to be keeping her warm made her into some sexless servant.

In the restaurant, though — in the restaurant the first sight of her without the pathetic excuse for a coat had taken his breath away. The thin fabric of her old dress outlined her unmentionables underneath and the real shape of her, and her real shape was just fine.

She was as she should be, female in an honest way, the curves of her breast, waist, and rear inviting hands. His first instinct had been to wrap her right up in the coat again. Then he’d realized the lamplight wasn’t strong enough for anyone farther away than he was to see what he saw and settled in to enjoy the sight.

She also acted the way the Girl should act, not having a female conniption fit when he told her about Jake Kepler. If a good temper tantrum had jerked her out of that spineless, suicidal behavior he’d first seen, he’d be happy to keep her angry for....

Catching where his thoughts were headed, he stopped them in their tracks. Whatever else he owed her, not thinking about her like that had to be high on the list.

If she lived a quiet life with that husband on their farm, her claim they were even would wash, but as long as she was a target for Van Cleve, she couldn’t set him free, and he couldn’t see how to free himself.

So he needed a place to stay, a place close enough to keep an eye on her, and her house was sitting empty and would do fine. After all, something about it appealed, and he was staying around Hubbell because of her. He’d ’fess up and pay her rent when he left, which would add to her cash supply.

Of course staying in the soddy presented its own problems. He could get enough supplies out there on a packhorse, but he’d have to buy one. Two horses in winter needed feed. Not only was there none on the place, there wasn’t so much as a foot of fencing to keep them from wandering off what grass Hawkins had left unplowed and onto V Bar C land.

By the time he purchased a packhorse and everything he needed and started for the Hawkins farm, Cal had an idea about feed. Pushing both horses at a steady pace, he kept a sharp eye on the countryside for any sign of Preston or other Van Cleve men.

A bullet could ruin all his plans, and he really wanted to see how those blue curtains looked by lamplight.

N
ORAH WALKED TO
church on Sundays at the same time as the Tindell family but joined Becky and her husband Ethan in a back pew for the service. Somehow hugs and inquiries about health always filled the minutes before church, and Norah had to hurry off afterward to get the Tindells’ dinner, ah,
luncheon
on the table.

The Sunday after her evening out with Caleb Sutton, Norah stole a few extra minutes to talk to Becky. “Do you know anyone in town who’s been here a long time and who could tell me about Henry Sutton and his family?”

“Oh, you mean about your gunslinger’s family?” Becky all but jumped up and down, her blonde curls bouncing around her eager face. “You’ve seen him again, haven’t you? You never said what he looks like. Is he handsome?”

Becky was a sweetheart, but sometimes her youth made her hard to deal with. “I don’t have enough time to....”

“You have enough time to visit some old codger you don’t know yet and listen to him ramble on, but you can’t visit me? You can’t even tell me a little about the man you want to know about? Do you want my help or not?”

“I’m sorry,” Norah said, the barb about not visiting Becky hitting home. “Yes, I’ve seen him. No, he’s not handsome. He’s scary, if you must know.” Dampening Becky’s enthusiasm seemed more important than literal truth.

“Oooh. Scary how? Is he big? Bigger than Joe?”