Claudia Dain (11 page)

"No," she mumbled, not quite able to meet his eyes with Bill pressed against her side. "I wasn't bothered." That should keep Jack coming at her and upend Bill. Too bad it was the truth.

"Don't lie for him, Anne. A man like that couldn't help but bother you just by breathing," Bill said, his chest puffed out like a rooster. When Jack Skull lost his smile and took a step toward him, however, Bill took a step back. And took Anne with him.

"Why would you call the lady a liar? She's got no call to lie and doesn't look the sort to lie even if pushed to it."

"That's not what... I don't have to defend myself to you, Skull. What goes on between me and Anne is personal and private."

"The name's Scullard, Bill," Jack said, his tone easy though his features weren't, "and I'll ask you again not to call the lady a liar."

"It's all right," Anne said, trying to loosen Bill's grip on her upper arm. In his angry frustration, he was squeezing her so hard her fingers were going numb. "I don't mind."

That hadn't been exactly what she'd meant to say, the expression on Bill's face told her that.

"Anne! Let me handle this!" Bill scolded, jerking her backward slightly as he tried to put some distance between them and the most dangerous man this side of the law.

"Is he bothering you, Miss Ross?" Jack asked sweetly, his hand dropping down near his gun belt.

"No! I'm fine, everything's fine," she said quickly. This was getting out of hand, like a prairie fire spreading from a single spark. She hadn't planned for this. Trouble was, Jack Skull messed up her thinking and he wasn't too kind on her breathing either. "Bill, I'm heading home and you're welcome to join me. Mr. Skul—Scullard—" She dipped her head in dismissal and walked as gracefully away as she could with Bill clutching her arm like a limp club. Jack stayed on the platform, watching them leave; she didn't turn around to check, she just knew that he was watching her by the trembling that gripped her insides.

"What were you doing with him?" Bill asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Anne looked at Bill out of the corner of her eye. He still looked angry.

"I wasn't with him," she said calmly. "I was watching the train and talking with Jane Rivers and he just happened to be standing there and then he just sort of started talking to me."

"But you didn't talk to him."

When she didn't say anything, but gave a delicate snort to indicate he didn't have the right to tell her whom she could talk to, Bill said, "I should have known. You're too sweet to want to tangle with his sort."

Naturally, he misread her, managing to think what he wanted to about her. He wouldn't want to believe that she'd willingly talk to another man, so he'd arranged the facts to suit his wants. Men were good at that. Sure made the world a comfortable place for them.

She smiled at him, aware that they had almost reached her house and Miss Daphne might be looking. He wasn't hard to smile at; he was darkly good looking with black hair, thick black eyelashes, and soft blue eyes. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Until Jack Skull had come to Abilene.

"I don't know why
you
were tangling with him." He had forced her into the role of peacemaker between two blowing bulls. She wasn't happy about that.

"Pure jealousy, honey," he said, leaning into her as they walked. "The only man I want to see you with is me."

Anne smiled in response. Bill sure did try to get her settled down when she was feeling ruffled, which wasn't all that often. She hated fuss of any kind and most especially hated to be in the middle of it. Bill had known her long enough to know that. Which was why it was so irritating that he had charged in with Jack that way, dragging her along with him. Let him fight it out with Jack alone. She didn't need to be a party to it.

"You understand, honey? Here I was, hurrying to find you, missing you so bad it felt like I hadn't breathed one solid breath in a week, and I find you standing toe-to-toe with another man. I was shocked, Anne, just plain shocked."

Guilt flooded her and she tucked her head down, ashamed of herself in that instant. He was right. He was her beau and he had been looking for her and she had been standing very close to another man. Enjoying it. Enjoying Jack. She even enjoyed that Bill was jealous. She was using Bill and using Jack against Bill and she felt sick about it. But she wasn't going to stop. She needed them both too badly to stop.

"So you found her," her grandmother said from the front porch. Anne raised her head and took a breath to steady herself. She wasn't going to look ashamed in front of her grandmother, no matter how guilty she was. She didn't need to get scolded twice. She prayed Bill wasn't going to say whom he had found her with.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled, looking well satisfied. "Now I feel like I really am back in Abilene, with Anne on my arm."

"How sweet," Nell murmured, holding the door for them as they passed through.

"Adorable," Sarah murmured in sarcastic agreement.

Sarah watched them, Daphne making sure Bill had a strong cup of coffee, Nell bringing in a plate of gingerbread for him to devour, Anne sitting quietly at his side on the divan. Dammit pressed against his leg in silent ecstasy. Bill had it easy and took it easy, accepting it all with buoyant good humor, expecting nothing less.

"Excuse me, please," Sarah said suddenly, tying on her hat. "I just remembered something I need in town."

Chapter 9

"Morning, Charles."

"Good morning, Sarah," Sheriff Lane said, rising to his feet. He looked discreetly behind her.

"I'm alone," Sarah said with a crooked grin.

"I see. Nell busy at home?"

Sarah moved into the room and sat down in the chair facing the desk; Lane moved back around the desk to face her.

"Charles, I didn't come to talk about Nell and if you're not man enough to arrange your own love life, you don't deserve one."

Lane coughed a bit into his fist and then faced down this unexpected adversary. "You're getting more like Miss Daphne every day, Sarah."

"Bite your tongue, Charles," she snapped good-naturedly.

He smiled and eased into his seat. "So, why did you come?"

"I'm looking for Jack Skull and I know he spends considerable time with you, when he's in town. Do you know where he is?"

"Now, Sarah, don't go after him with that tongue of yours. He's not as dangerous as everyone thinks and I'd like it if people in this town would give him a little room."

"What could I do to him?" She shrugged dramatically. "He's bigger and tougher than I am; I wouldn't hurt him. Tell me where he is."

"Why?"

It was a standoff. Sheriff Charles Lane could be as easygoing as a well-fed dog, but there were times when he dug in his heels and refused to move an inch. This was one of those times.

"Anne's not as old as you are and needs a little help arranging her love life," Sarah finally said.

"So?"

When Sarah said nothing further, raising an eyebrow that clearly said she thought he had more under his saddle, Charles leaned forward in his chair, comprehension dawning.

"Is Jack the help you have in mind?" he asked, laughter rolling up to bubble in his mouth as he spoke.

When Sarah didn't laugh, didn't smile, and didn't answer, his laugh ended on an abrupt choke.

"He's not the sort for Anne," he said sternly, speaking with all the force of the sheriff of Abilene, Kansas.

Sarah wasn't impressed or intimidated. "Thought you said he wasn't dangerous?"

"That's not exactly what I said," he said, sitting straight up.

"Close enough," she said, meeting his eye and maintaining her own strict posture.

"What are you planning?"

Sarah relaxed enough to grin. "Nothing fatal."

"I'm relieved to hear it, ma'am," Jack said from the doorway.

Lane visibly relaxed in his seat, glad to transfer the problem of Sarah Todd Davies to another man. Sarah relaxed, glad to have Jack Skull in her sights. Jack was the only one in the room who wasn't relaxed. What did this woman of middling years want with him?

"Introduce us, Charles," she said in a near perfect imitation of Miss Daphne's most commanding voice.

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a smile. "Mrs. Sarah Davies, Mr. Jack Scullard. Jack, this is Mrs. Davies."

"Pleased, ma'am." Jack tipped his hat in her direction.

"My pleasure, Mr. Scullard. Scullard? French, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"From Texas, I think it's rumored?"

"By way of Louisiana, ma'am."

They studied each other, the polite and serious measuring of another person who might become ally or foe. Jack did it daily, hourly; it was a simple technique of survival that had taken years to perfect. Sarah did it naturally, as a woman does, and had done it well from the cradle.

"Mr. Scullard, do they have apples as far south as Louisiana?"

"Yes, ma'am, they do."

"And do you have a taste for apple pie?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"As do I." She smiled. "Would you be so kind as to escort me to the Demorest Restaurant? They serve a lovely apple pie and I'd like you to share the pleasure with me."

"Now, ma'am, I don't think—"

"I've got a hunger to taste some apple pie. Miss Daphne doesn't allow apples in the house since they trouble her digestion. I would rather not eat alone." There was nothing pathetic about Sarah Davies, but she sounded almost pathetic now.

"Ma'am," Jack said, giving in, "I'd be pleased to escort you to the Demorest." He didn't smile, not with his mouth, but his eyes showed his amusement. This woman wanted something from him—what he couldn't imagine— but at least according to her, it wouldn't be fatal.

The looks they got when he escorted her to a window table in the Demorest almost were.

"Just ignore her," Sarah Davies said out of the side of her mouth. "Emmie Winslow looks at all cowboys that way."

"I'm not a cowboy," he said as he drew out her chair for her.

"You have the look of one. Were one once, I'd guess."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, sliding into his own chair with a lift of his leg. "What'd a cowboy ever do to get her so riled?"

"Drove a few beeves through this very window. It took almost six months to get it fixed proper."

Jack smiled slightly. "Spirits run high at the end of a drive."

Sarah studied him briefly before calling out, "Two apple pies, two coffees, Emmie."

"Now, ma'am...."

"My invitation, my treat," she countered swiftly, closing the subject.

Jack let her have the last word, knowing how women liked that, but he wasn't going to have any woman paying for his feed.

"You ever run a trail into Abilene?" she asked.

He didn't know where this was going, but couldn't see any harm in talking with her. Maybe she was the town eccentric.

"In sixty-eight."

"We saw a lot of cows that year. And a lot of cowboys."

Jack smiled at her as Emmie set down the plates of pie and the mugs of coffee.

"They do tend to run together, ma'am."

"That they do," Sarah said softly. "I miss those days sometimes. Town had more life to it back then."

"It sure did."

Sarah looked up at him at that and smiled her first genuine smile at the soft twang of wistfulness she heard in his voice.

It was in seeing her smile that he knew who she was; she was kin to Anne Ross somehow. No two women could have that smile and not be related.

It was like watching shutters folding over his eyes, the way he withdrew and pulled in. Sarah couldn't help smiling again.

"I would guess that you've met my niece, Anne."

"Wouldn't say I'd met her," he said.

"Seen her then? Folks say there's a likeness between us. I take it as a compliment."

"You should."

"I'll say 'thank you' for us both to that." Sarah took a bite of her pie, tart and crisp, savoring the flavor and the texture before washing it down with coffee. Powell from the livery walked by, teeth clamped on his pipe, shaking his head. Sarah ignored him. "There's ways I don't want her to be like me, though."

"How's that?" He'd stopped eating his pie after two bites and wasn't nursing his half-full coffee. Had to keep his gun hand free, she supposed.

"I've got no man. Neither does Anne."

Anne had no man. Sweet words to hear when he spent too much time thinking about the look of her, the smell of her, and that brief feel when he'd caught her on the stairs. She had no man. She was free. Free to tangle with a bounty hunter.

Right.

"She'll get one," he said, swallowing half the pie in one bite. It wouldn't be him, but she'd get one. Hell, she had Tucker in her pocket now. How many men could a woman use?

"That's the plan," Sarah said simply, pushing her empty plate away from her.

Jack forced coffee over the wedge of pie in his throat and leaned back in his chair, tipping the front legs off the floor.

"Where do I fit into this plan?" he asked, cutting the fat off the conversation.

Sarah smiled and sipped her coffee, thinking carefully how best to say it. Jack Scullard wasn't stupid and he didn't have the look of a brawler; by the cut of his cloth, he made a good dollar hunting bounty. He showed pride; that could make a man rile easy and she had no wish to rile Jack Skull. But that pride of his could be turned to her plan, if she put it to him right.