Devils on Horseback: Zeke, Book 3 (10 page)

“Pleased to meet you, Greg.”

To Gregory’s credit, he didn’t miss a beat although Lee’s cursing had put a pink blush to his smooth cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Blackwood.”

“Ah, hell, boy, I mean, just call me Lee. I ain’t been Mr. Blackwood before and I don’t plan on starting now.” He grinned at Zeke. “I’ll leave that to my big brother. He wears mister better.”

“Sit down, fool, and have some breakfast.” Zeke pulled the chair out next to him. “Margaret, could you please get some food for them?”

Margaret shot a cold glare at Lee. “I know what he wants. Mr. Conley, what would you like?”

Gregory smiled at her. “Eggs, bacon, biscuits, anything really. Oatmeal is great too.”

The preacher seemed to be an honest, open person who didn’t set off any of Zeke’s inner alarms.

“Be right back then.” Margaret swiped Lee’s mug and went into the kitchen.

“Did you see that? She took my coffee. Geez, you would have thought I committed a cardinal sin or something,” Lee groused.

“Cardinal sins are nothing to joke about.” Gregory obviously didn’t understand Lee’s sense of humor yet.

“What did you do?” Zeke cocked one eyebrow at his brother.

With a dramatic sigh, Lee frowned at the closed door she’d walked through. “I added something to her stew last night.”

Zeke burst out laughing at the idea his brother was cowed by a cook angry at him for tampering with her cooking. Gregory smiled, but didn’t join in Zeke’s humor.

“She’s formidable when she wants to be. Who knew adding some parsley would turn her into a vicious witch?”

That made Zeke laugh harder, even if Lee threw him a wicked glare.

“If you could see your face,” Zeke got out.

“Shut up, Ezekiel, before I put some parsley on you and roast you on the spit.” Lee stood, the chair skidding across the floor. His anger was taking over his common sense, yet again.

Zeke put his hand on his brother’s, swallowing the rest of his mirth. “I’m sorry, Lee, it’s just good to laugh again, you know?”

“Hmph, just not at my expense.” He fisted his hand on the table. “She’s driving me plumb loco.”

“Sounds as if you like her. Perhaps we have a first wedding for you, Reverend Conley.”

Lee’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? She hates me, and even if she didn’t, there’s no way any woman would marry a one-armed man.”

Zeke clapped his brother on the back. “Don’t put yourself down, brother. You’re smart, you’ve proved that by fixing the books for the restaurant. Whoever buys this place next will be mighty appreciative of that. And you’re good-looking and young. She’d be a fool not to want to marry you.”

“Just the same, Zeke, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.” As Margaret walked back out with the pot and two mugs, Lee shut his mouth. Zeke found it astonishing that a woman, any woman, could put Lee on his head. He hadn’t been serious about the wedding, but perhaps it wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility.

She thumped down the two clean mugs and poured coffee, then topped off Zeke’s. “I’ve got some fresh eggs cooking. Be out in a jiffy.”

Lee stared at the cup in front of him then glanced up at Zeke. The need that shone in his eyes was there for only a split second, but Zeke saw it anyway. His brother must’ve fallen for Margaret, or at least had feelings for her. Feelings he obviously didn’t want anyone to see or know about. Zeke had been joking, but now it appeared to be serious. Damn, another one of the Devils involved with a woman? Jesus, they were dropping like flies.

“Well, at least she brought me another mug.” Lee slurped the brew noisily. The flavor apparently surprised him because he stared at the liquid with suspicion. “This ain’t my coffee.”

“Hm, perhaps Margaret made a pot that didn’t taste like old socks.” Zeke sipped the bitter version in his own mug. “I’m guessing she’s not fond of your coffee.”

Lee swallowed and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “I suppose you’re right.”

“This coffee is tasty,” Gregory offered as he looked back and forth between them. “I’ve had some that tastes like dirty water mixed with dirt while I was traveling.”

Zeke wanted to find out what was going on between Lee and Margaret, but now definitely wasn’t the time. He focused on Gregory instead. “Where do you hail from, Preacher?”

“Kansas, near Topeka. Right before my granddaddy died, he told me to find a new place to start over. He taught me to be a man of the cloth, read me the Bible and basically raised me after my mama passed giving birth to me. My father did his best to drink himself into a coffin, and finally succeeded last year.” Gregory took a much-needed breath, then continued. “I sold everything we owned and started traveling. I’ve stayed with folks all over on the way from home to here. When I got to Tanger with a family on their way to Houston, I knew I’d finally got to where I was meant to be.”

Zeke swallowed back a chuckle at the boy’s ability to talk faster than anybody he’d ever met. “What makes you think Tanger is where you were meant to be?”

Gregory smiled. “I saw an angel when the sun rose.”

This time Lee laughed out loud. “Believe me, kid, there ain’t no angels in Tanger.”

“Oh, I think there is. A blonde angel in yellow, silhouetted in the sunrise as she walked down the street. She smiled at me and said welcome.” Gregory sighed. “I am definitely in the right place.”

Zeke had a suspicion he knew exactly who the angel was and she sure as hell wasn’t a heavenly creature. God knows what she was doing on the street at sunrise, or perhaps he did know why. It had only been an hour since he’d left her bed. His body still buzzed with the arousal his time with her had only served to make more pronounced, perhaps hers did as well.

He’d tried his damnedest to keep his distance from her, had even walked away, yet he’d found himself by her bed. When he saw her pleasuring herself, his body took over completely. God he could still taste the tang of her nectar on his tongue, not even the bitter coffee could erase her sweet flavor.

“…and if you’ll help me, I’d be most appreciative.” Gregory looked at him expectantly. Zeke realized he’d been daydreaming about Naomi, for Chrissakes, and had missed what the young man had said.

“What do you think?” Zeke looked at Lee to rescue him.

“I think you spent the night forgetting just what your place in the world is.” Lee shook his head. “You can’t think but for her, can you?”

“Shut up, Cornelius.” He was saved by Margaret when she appeared with three heaping plates of eggs, bacon and grits.

“Hearty meal for you fellas. I know there’s plenty of work to be done.” Margaret shot another glare at Lee. “Nothing like a good breakfast to get the day started right.”

It was the most he’d ever heard Margaret say. She was chatting away that morning as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she hadn’t spent most every minute quiet as a mouse as she worked at Elmer’s restaurant. Zeke had an idea that what Lee felt for the reticent widow might be returned.

“Thanks, Margaret.” Zeke didn’t want all that food but he wasn’t about to turn it down. Food had been too scarce to let any morsel go to waste.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am.” Gregory dug in with gusto, almost bringing a smile to Zeke’s face.

“You’re welcome.” With another pointed glare at Lee, Margaret returned to the kitchen.

The restaurant door opened and Matthew Marchison walked in. The man had aged ten years in the last one. His son had been killed in the war, then his wife was shot in the streets of Tanger after committing horrific crimes. The bald-headed, bespectacled man had done his best to prove he wasn’t painted by the same brush as his cold-hearted bitch of a wife. He murmured a good morning and sat at a table across the room.

Lee glanced at Zeke, then kept his eyes on his plate. The silence was only broken by Gregory’s moans of pleasure. Zeke remembered that feeling well, filling his belly with hot delicious food when it had been a dog’s age since he’d felt full. He clapped the kid on the shoulder.

“Maybe you did come to the right town, Greg. I think we needed some young blood.” He hoped the preacher kept his distance from the angel. Folks didn’t take kindly to their spiritual leader keeping time with a saloon girl.

An idea blossomed in his head and he glanced at Matthew. “Hey, Marchison, do you have a minute?”

He looked up from the mug in front of him. “Of course, Zeke, what is it?”

“I wanted to introduce you to Gregory Conley. He’s new to Tanger and a minister.” Zeke gestured to Matthew to come over. “I think he needs a friend in town to help him get settled.”

For the first time since he’d known the shopkeeper, the older man smiled, which completely transformed his face.

“I’d be pleased to.” He stood and walked over to the table, holding out his hand. “Matthew Marchison, young man, I’m happy to help.”

Just like that, Zeke had helped two men, and in the process, actually made himself feel good about it. It was a foreign feeling, but one he welcomed.

Chapter Seven

On Saturday, the second fight in the saloon gave Naomi the excuse to see Zeke without feeling guilty about it. Not that she felt guilty, but it had been five days since he’d come to her bed. It seemed so odd that less than two weeks had passed since they’d met. Impossible, really.

This time, fortunately, Naomi hadn’t started the fight. She crouched behind the bar with Louisa and Carmen.

“What did you do this time?” Carmen’s accusatory glare speared Naomi.

“I didn’t do anything. They were fighting over a game of cards. I had nothing to do with it.” She peeked over the bar, narrowly missing shards from a glass as it shattered against the wood.

“Ha, a
mujer
like you, I don’t believe it.” Carmen’s dark eyes were sharper than the glass.

“I saw them, she’s telling the truth.” Louisa put her arms over her head. “We need that handsome sheriff to come in here and stop this.”

Before Naomi could tell Louisa to leave the sheriff out of her fantasies, all three of them screamed as a body came flying over the top of the bar. Zeke’s booming voice filled the room.

“Two fights in one week? I don’t think so. Who the hell started it this time?” The silence that followed was eerie after the cacophony of the fight. “Well?”

“I believe it was the two gentlemen in the back.” Ackerman’s nasally tone was unmistakable. Naomi had had no idea he was even in the saloon, or seen what happened. “The one in the blue shirt sporting a gash on his cheek and the one wearing the brown shirt and, ah, what seems to be whiskey in his hair.”

A few grumbles met his tattling. Naomi shook her head. The man had no idea how to fit in with the townspeople. She didn’t know what his thinking was, but he wouldn’t make any friends in town by pointing fingers. Naomi tried to stand, but Louisa grabbed her arm.

“Are you loco? Get back down here.”

“The fight’s over. The sheriff is here.” Naomi straightened.

“He is? Oh my.” Louisa pulled down her bodice, nearly exposing her nipples before she stood. Naomi resisted the urge to slap her back down, except she had no claim on him. In fact, it seemed he’d been doing his best to avoid her.

Zeke cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips. “Are you sure about that, Ackerman?”

“Oh, quite sure. You see, I was playing poker with them when the fight began. I’m afraid all the money has been mixed up on the floor. I just wanted to be sure I didn’t lose my portion.” The dark-haired hotel owner was in the corner by the piano. If Naomi had to guess, she figured he’d been hiding during the ruckus, which didn’t surprise her. He seemed like the type to avoid anything involving fists.

“You’re worried about your money?” Zeke sounded more than annoyed.

“Why yes, I am. You see, it was only twenty dollars, but it truly was mine. I’d like it back.”

Naomi didn’t know if Ackerman was telling the truth about the money or not, but he should be grateful he hadn’t gotten pounded during the fight. The hotel man was an odd fellow.

“Steve and John, you come with me. The two of you are spending the night at the jail.” Zeke pointed at Lucy. “You figure out the money situation. Everyone else, you know the toll, give the house a dollar on your way out.”

He turned and his gaze locked with Naomi’s. Heat whipped between them even though they stood fifteen feet apart. Her pulse began to pound as she came around the bar. Her feet had taken over, bringing her closer to the man who occupied her mind.

Before she could reach him, Louisa pushed past her.

“Oh, Sheriff, I’m so glad you’re here. I was so frightened.” She pushed her overly large boobs against his arm and fluttered her eyelashes. Naomi wanted to pop her friend’s breasts like a balloon.

“I’m sure you were, Louisa. Now you just go back to work and help Lucy clean up.” Zeke patted her arm, dangerously close to the right mountain, and Naomi lost her temper.

“For God’s sake, Louisa, stop throwing your tits at him.” Naomi clamped a hand over her mouth after the words burst forth.

Louisa looked at her with genuine hurt in her eyes. She let Zeke go and walked towards the stairs. Zeke stared at Naomi from beneath the brim of his black hat. It was too dark to read his expression, but she knew it wasn’t good. None of it was. She’d let herself get involved with a man who wouldn’t acknowledge he came to her bed, or that she was anything other than a saloon girl.

Her heart was at risk with Zeke if she wasn’t careful.

He turned away, breaking the spell between them. “Let’s go, boys.”

The two men pointed out by Ackerman shuffled towards the sheriff, their bloodied knuckles practically dragging on the floor. Naomi knew just what the jail held for them and wished them good luck. For herself, she just wanted to crawl into a hole in the floor and disappear.

“You didn’t have to be such a
puta
, Naomi.” Carmen smacked her on the arm. “Louisa is a good girl.”

Naomi didn’t get angry at the volatile Mexican woman. She was right after all. Naomi had been a bitch to sweet Louisa, and over a man no less. Lucy frowned at her and pointed at the floor.

“Get cleaning, Nammy. We need to get this mess righted so we can start serving drinks again.” Lucy turned her back on Naomi, as did everyone else, except Zeke.

He met her gaze one last time before he walked out the door. What she wanted to do was turn around and follow him, but she didn’t. Her survival instinct was stronger than the need for Zeke, for now anyway. She’d bide her time and visit the sheriff later.

Zeke’s prisoners weren’t happy about being placed in a cell together, but they quit squawking when he threatened them with a week in jail instead of one Saturday night. The cell wasn’t big, of course, but they could get through being incarcerated in it just the same. Thank God Martin had finished the hinges or Zeke would have a lot more trouble on his hands.

His mind went back to Naomi as he sat at the desk, watching his prisoners ignore each other. She’d looked delicious in a bright blue dress that was too big in the chest, probably belonged to Louisa no doubt. That little one had it in her head she needed to bed the sheriff, but he had no intention of it.

Once upon a time, he would have jumped at the opportunity to be with such a pretty young thing without worry of getting tangled with her heart. Louisa made it very clear she wanted nothing more than bed sport and had propositioned him at least half a dozen times.

Zeke, unfortunately, could not imagine himself with the brunette. She was curvy and round in all the right places, but his body just refused to rise to the occasion, so to speak. Aside from that, the town council was watching him like a hawk. He’d seen Oliver on numerous occasions near the jail, although he had no business on that end of town. Word must have reached the council about his association with Naomi or the whiskey. Either way, he knew his job could be yanked out from under him any moment.

However, his thoughts still circled back to Naomi, all the time. He hadn’t been able to shake her image from his memory. It wasn’t as if he was inexperienced with women, but he’d been selective in his choice of bedmates. She was nothing more than a saloon girl whose body seemed to be made for passion. Just thinking about her made his trousers tight.

Yet he’d picked bluebonnets earlier and left them on her bed. A romantic, stupid thing to do.

“No, I ain’t moving, so just shut up,” Steve shouted from the cell.

“Make me.” John shoved the other man and suddenly his prisoners were coming to blows in the cell.

Zeke jumped out of his chair, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming about Naomi while his prisoners were fighting. He unlocked the cell door and tried to separate the men. Unfortunately, what he didn’t expect was the two of them to turn on him.

His control of the situation was wrenched from him in seconds. Hard blows landed on his face and stomach as the cowboys did their best to beat the hell out of him. Hard knuckles, boots and even teeth hit him from two sides. Zeke in turn tried to do as much damage as he could, but surprise had done him in. He should have been paying more attention.

When one of them punched him in the kidney, Zeke gasped and fell to his knees, pain radiating through his body. One of the men escaped through the open door while the other continued to punch Zeke. He blindly punched the man’s legs and knees.

“What the hell is going on here?” Gideon’s voice boomed through the shit shack. A grunt, curse and a thud followed. “Where the hell are you going, fool?”

The snick of a gun being cocked echoed through the room even as the cowboy rained punches on his body.

“You might want to stop pounding on the sheriff before I give you a new hole in your head.” Gideon rarely sounded cold or deadly, but damned if he didn’t this time. Zeke sucked in a grateful breath when the punches ceased.

“We was just playing,” John said from above him, lousy son of a bitch.

“You’re full of shit. Zeke, you all right?”

Zeke held up one hand while the other pressed into his throbbing kidney. “Will be in a minute,” he gasped out.

“You. John, right? Step back into the cell and sit on the corner of the cot.” Gideon stepped closer. “Zeke, can you get up?”

“Where’s Steve?” Zeke crawled backwards out of the cell.

“He’s taking a nap by the door. Don’t worry, he won’t be moving anytime soon.” Gideon took Zeke by the arm and pulled him up. He frowned when he caught sight of Zeke’s face. “Jesus, please us.”

Zeke leaned against the bars. “That bad, eh? They definitely know how to throw a punch.” He cracked one eye to glare at John. “This one is spending the week in here until I can figure out how to get him in prison.”

“Prison? What the hell are you talking about?” John started to stand, but Gideon raised his pistol again.

“I suggest you sit your stupid ass back down.”

The brawler did as Gideon bade and sat in the corner, grumbling to himself.

“You should definitely charge him with assault. In the meantime, you need to go see the doc to get patched up. Don’t worry about these two, I’ll keep an eye on them.” He softened his expression when he met Zeke’s gaze. “You need a deputy and another cell, cousin.”

“Yeah, well, since Tanger’s barely paying me enough to feed me and I might not be the sheriff in another few weeks time, I don’t think they’re gonna be ready to spend more money any time soon. You volunteering to be a deputy?” Zeke straightened and winced as a thousand pain points echoed through his back and head.

“For now, yep, I’ll be your stand-in. Now go see Doc Barham.”

Zeke managed a weak salute. “Aye, Cap’n. On my way.”

A ten minute walk took him thirty since Zeke’s head kept spinning as he plodded along. He must have gotten one too many hits to his noggin from those cowboys. Thinking about Naomi usually got him in trouble and this time it almost cost him much more than wasted time or energy. By the time he made it to Barham’s house, he was sweating buckets and his stomach churned without mercy. When the door appeared in front of him, he barely missed knocking with his head as he fell forward.

* * * * *

Naomi finished cleaning without a peep of protest. She still felt badly about what she’d said to Louisa, especially considering Naomi had no claim on the enigmatic sheriff. He did as he pleased without any ties to any woman, regardless of their intimate relationship.

She put the broom away, said good night to Joe and headed upstairs. It would be a restless night, that was a certainty. Louisa’s door was closed and Naomi didn’t have the energy to apologize just yet. Morning would be better, after they’d all had some sleep. The sounds of the bedsprings squeaking in Carmen’s room told the story of just what was going on in there.

Naomi opened the door to her room and spotted bluebonnets on her bed. They’d obviously been there several hours judging by the condition of the blooms, but the sight of the simple prairie flower made her throat close up. Zeke must have put them there, no one else would have. Her heart leapt with sudden lightness as she caressed the delicate petals.

Her energy renewed, Naomi washed up quickly and put on her clean dress. He had always seemed to like the yellow one so it was a good thing the garment was clean. She brushed her hair, then quietly stepped back out in the hallway. The saloon was eerie in the middle of the night, when all was silent and still.

The minute thump of her shoes on the stairs was the only sound until she reached the bottom and the hiss of a match in the shadows made her jump. Lucy lit a cigarette in the gloom, watching Naomi.

“Where you headed, sugar?”

Lucy knew exactly where Naomi was going, yet she was playing a game anyway. That stuck in Naomi’s gut and she had to bite back the snide response that threatened to escape.

“I needed some fresh air.” Lying was coming easier to her.

“And the air coming through your window ain’t enough?” Lucy sauntered over to the stairs, the cigarette tip glowing amber.

“No, not really.” Naomi clutched one bluebonnet in her closed fist, unwilling to allow her boss to ruin the sweet gesture.

“All gussied up in clean clothes. You fixing to go see Zeke?” Lucy wasn’t dumb, no matter how people viewed her.

“More than likely.” Naomi was tired of being coy and didn’t want to have to lie anymore. She started walking towards the door.

“I thought as much. You might as well know he don’t plan on marrying, ever, so if you are heading that way, best change your mind.” Lucy sounded tired, exhausted really. She took another drag of the cigarette. “He might have changed his mind for Allison, but she’s gone.”

Naomi stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding against the thin cotton dress. “Who’s Allison?”

“Hasn’t told you, eh? Typical man.” Lucy scoffed as she leaned up against the bar and took another long drag from the cigarette, then spit the tobacco off her tongue. “She was the preacher’s daughter. Zeke and his friends came to town to help Tanger get rid of some raiders who were picking off women. He and Allison got on real well, were sparking like young folks. She was caught by some raiders after they killed her daddy. Poor thing had her throat slit right in front of him.”