Devils on Horseback: Zeke, Book 3 (2 page)

He had a new job. God help him.

* * * * *

“There’s no jail.” Zeke walked down the wood-planked sidewalk beside Gideon. “Where the hell am I supposed to put people I arrest?”

“We’ll make a jail, maybe in that piece-of-shit house we lived in down at the end of Main Street. Just need some strong wood and steel bars. I’m sure Martin would be willing to help.” The blacksmith might be fifty, but he was still good at what he did and he’d become friends with Zeke.

“Yeah, he will.” Zeke resisted the urge to scuff his boots in the dirt like a little boy. The thing he was worried about, well there was more than one thing, but the biggest thing was that he knew nothing about being a lawman.

No, he knew less than nothing, and that bothered him. What if he messed up real bad and someone got hurt? Zeke didn’t want to be responsible for hurting the citizens of Tanger any more than they’d already been hurt. It angered him that he didn’t know what he was doing or have any confidence as sheriff. He wanted a purpose, but what if he failed at it?

Anger was better than self-pity, but it didn’t make the cramping in his stomach go away. Zeke hated being off-balance and having no idea how to overcome the odds. From the time he was a young man, he was used to being in charge. After his father had been stricken with a palsy, Zeke had taken over as head of the household, shouldering a burden too heavy for a twelve-year-old boy. It had shortened his childhood and forced him to be as serious as the situation.

The new sheriff’s job was more than serious, it was the town putting their trust and their lives in his hands. It wasn’t the first time he’d been given a huge responsibility, but it was the first time he had no idea how to accomplish the job. He’d need to step lightly and follow every rule to the letter.

“Don’t worry, Zeke, the raiders are gone. The only thing that’s happened in the last nine months is a runaway pig and a stolen pie.” Gideon squeezed his shoulder. “It’s not as if you’re going to be alone. We’ll be right here, ready to help if you need it, but I don’t think you will.”

Zeke nodded. “I wouldn’t count on that. I don’t have a fucking clue how to be a sheriff.” He managed a chuckle. “I don’t plan on failing though.”

“And you won’t.” Gideon shook his head. “You were a top-rate soldier, the best I ever saw. It’s not such a big change from the army to a lawman.”

“I sure as hell hope you’re right.” Zeke wanted to succeed more than anything. Thinking about what would happen if he failed made his stomach hurt. Failure was something he didn’t tolerate, ever. He didn’t plan on starting with this job.

Lee walked out of the restaurant, silhouetted in the lamplight from the door. “Where have you two been? You ran off without finishing the dishes, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

The appearance of his brother reminded Zeke he had some news to share. God knew how Lee would take it.

“We were at the town council meeting. Let’s put some coffee on so I can tell you what happened.” Gideon sounded relaxed, a feeling Zeke wouldn’t share until he was the sheriff in earnest.

Lee narrowed his gaze. “You’d better tell me now.”

“You’re looking at the new sheriff of Tanger.” Gideon smiled broadly and pointed at Zeke.

The expression on Lee’s face was comical—shock, disbelief and then he burst out laughing. Gut-busting, knee-slapping guffaws exploded from the normally snide blond. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he held up his hand at them, apparently trying to regain control of himself.

Zeke didn’t think it was funny at all and brushed past his little brother into the restaurant. At nine in the evening, there were no customers left except Martin, who was nursing a cup of coffee. The silver-haired giant nodded at Zeke in greeting.

“You might as well know too. I’m the sheriff now, even if my ass of a brother doesn’t believe it.”

Lee stepped in behind him, still laughing. Zeke resisted the urge to punch him until he shut up. “It ain’t funny.”

After wiping his eyes, Lee was able to look Zeke in the face. “You’re serious about this. The town council made you sheriff?”

“Damn serious. Hell, Gabby’s the mayor too.” Zeke’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as the responsibility began to sink down into his bones. God, he needed a drink.

Control, Zeke, control
.

“Hell, Zeke, why didn’t you tell them no…or maybe you didn’t want to say no?” Lee leaned against the doorframe, his brown gaze too sharp.

“I didn’t want to say no. I’ve been drunk and stupid, with nothing to do other than breathe, sleep, eat and shit.” Zeke held out his hands, unnerved to see a tremor in them. “This is gonna give me what I can’t seem to find in Tanger. A purpose.”

“You really want this job?” Lee frowned.

Zeke searched way down deep and thought about what he needed, and what he didn’t have. He didn’t have much of anything besides his friends. Perhaps if he worked as sheriff he might finally feel as though he’d found a new home, and a reason to live.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

Lee nodded, his eyes reflecting nothing. “Then take it. One of us might as well be respectable.”

Zeke turned to Martin. “I’m going to need your help building a jail cell starting tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing, Zeke. I’d be happy to.” Martin could always be counted on to help, thank God.

Zeke’s stomach cramped and he took hold of his runaway thirst for whiskey with both hands. Being sheriff wouldn’t be an easy job by any means—it’d be hard as hell no doubt, especially knowing he had thirty days to prove himself worthy. After talking to Lee, the urge to find a bottle of whiskey began to ease and in its place, a bit of excitement. It was the first step to get Zeke out of the hole he was in.

Tanger had a new sheriff and he could only hope he’d be the best sheriff the town had ever seen.

Chapter Two

Naomi Tucker squeezed her sweaty palms together under the table and focused on Lucy Michaelson. The older woman scrutinized her as if she was looking for a job as a doctor or a lawman instead of a saloon girl. It didn’t matter what the job was, Naomi had to take it. It had been about two days since she’d had a halfway decent meal and her money had run out twenty miles outside of Tanger.

The one thing she wouldn’t do was beg. If Lucy didn’t hire her, Naomi would look elsewhere in town even if it meant less money. The war had cost her more than she ever imagined, but it would not take her dignity.

“You done this kind of work before?” Lucy tapped her fingers on the scarred tabletop.

Naomi forced herself to ignore the noise and tried to hide the tattered edges of her sleeve. “Yes, ma’am, I have.”

“Ever worked on your back?”

She expected the question, but it still stung like a slap. “It’s not what I’m here for.” She had made a promise to herself to never sink that low again, and she planned on keeping it. “If that’s what you’re looking for, I don’t think I can do it.” Brave words for a girl who’d survived on bread crusts and water. She barely resisted the urge to ask for whatever was cooking in the kitchen.

Lucy held up her palms, evidence of calluses clearly written in the roughened skin. “I ain’t insisting on nothing. My girls do what they want, when they want. I was just gonna say if you bring anybody upstairs, the house gets half.”

Naomi shuddered at the very idea she’d have to let strange men touch her again. She swallowed the bile that had crept up her throat.

“I don’t intend on servicing men that way, ma’am.” Naomi was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. She learned from her mistakes, past and present.

“I can respect that. It ain’t all that fun most times, is it?” Lucy sighed, a stray red curl bobbing up and down on her forehead.

Naomi didn’t know how to answer the question or even if she should so she just kept her mouth shut.

“I hired on two other girls a few weeks ago. I expect the three of you to pull your weight around here. Finally got enough business going to have two nickels to rub together. Job includes a room upstairs—linens and things are up to you. Meals from the kitchen are served three times a day only. It ain’t great, but it’s food and if you miss it, you go hungry.” Lucy pointed at the stairs. “There’s but one bathing room up there and we all have to use the hot water. Twice a week on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Don’t steal, don’t cheat and treat the customers nice.”

Naomi couldn’t stop the grin from sneaking across her lips. She had a job!

“I think that’s about it. If you have any questions, ask Joe, he’s that ancient-looking man behind the bar.” Lucy stood, the bright blue velvet dress straining against her ample bosom. “I’m guessing you’ll take the job.”

“Yes, ma’am, I surely will and thank you for giving me a chance.”

Lucy scrutinized Naomi up and down, pausing to look at the not-so-impressive cleavage beneath the faded yellow dress. “Can you sing?”

Naomi didn’t expect the question or the almost sexual way Lucy had examined her bosom. Not that anything would surprise her, but it still made her feel odd. “Well, I guess so a little. I used to sing in the choir back before the war.”

The blackness of the past roared in her ears, blocking out whatever Lucy said. The sight of the church burning, of her father screaming as he lost his life in the inferno trying to save members of his congregation. Her heart hammered so hard it almost broke a rib. Through it all, Naomi kept a smile on her face, nodding to her new boss.

“Like I said, you don’t have to, but Joe can play the piano some. You think about it.”

Naomi kept her hands clenched, trying to keep her focus on the here and now instead of the long-ago memories.

Lucy walked towards the bar. “I’ve got a dinner date with a friend, so you head on upstairs and introduce yourself to Louisa and Carmen.” Lucy flapped her hand towards the stairs. “Since you’re the last one, you get the smallest room at the end of the hall.”

The sun streaming in through the batwing doors was suddenly cut off. A blinding halo of light surrounded whoever it was, like an angel come down from heaven.

Naomi forgot her discomfort, her hunger, even her desperation as she stared at the figure walking in the saloon.

“Zeke, honey, I told you I’d meet you down at Elmer’s. You didn’t have to come all the way up here to escort me down.” Lucy sounded like a young woman flirting, and with the angel no less.

“Ain’t no bother, Lucy. It’s a beautiful day.” The figure moved into the saloon and Naomi blinked, trying to focus on who it was. “You hire another new girl?”

“Yep, just now. This here’s Nammy.”

“Naomi.” Ignoring Lucy’s mispronunciation of her name, she stepped forward and focused on his face. “Naomi Tucker.”

They were the last words she’d probably be able to get out of her mouth for a while. The angel was beautiful with soft, wavy blond hair, chocolate brown eyes tipped with the thickest eyelashes she’d seen, wide shoulders, the hint of whiskers on his narrow cheeks and a mouth curved into a sardonic grin. The pistols hanging low on his hips were lethal looking.

Holy Mary.

“Where did you find her? She’s a mite skinny.” He spoke about Naomi as if she wasn’t standing five feet from him.

“Came in with the supply wagon. There ain’t much to her, but I’m willing to give her a chance. Besides, it’s not as if there’s a line of girls at my door begging for a job.” Lucy walked towards her office. “I’ve got to get my shawl. Be right back.” Her departure left Naomi alone with the stranger.

She clenched her teeth together to keep the angry retorts from escaping. The two of them had spoken about her like she was the runt of a sow’s litter at market and all the rest of the piglets had been purchased.

“And you are?” She finally found her voice and instead of shaking from nervousness, it shook with anger.

The man tipped back his hat and pierced her with a cool gaze. “Zeke Blackwood, Miss Tucker. It is Miss, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” She struggled with the urge to show him how sharp her tongue could be, knowing Lucy was friends or perhaps more with him. It could cost her the first job she’d had in a month if she didn’t keep a leash on her temper. “How do you do?”

“I do right fine most days.” He stared a moment too long at Naomi, sending a shiver straight up her spine. The cold-eyed stare told her nothing about the man other than he liked to intimidate people, but she wasn’t dancing to that tune. “Where are you from, Miss Tucker?”

Naomi pasted a smile on her face. “All over.”

One blond eyebrow went up. “That’s an interesting answer.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You on the run from the law?”

Naomi couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Not hardly. I never took the easy way out, Mr. Blackwood. I’ve worked to stay alive.”

“Zeke, call me Zeke.”

Naomi swallowed hard. “I don’t know you well enough to use your Christian name.”

“Fair enough.” His gaze never strayed from hers and it seemed he was interrogating her. “You fixin’ to stay on permanently in Tanger?”

“I don’t see how that’s your business.” In actuality, Naomi had no idea where she’d live from one week to the next. Home was literally where she hung her proverbial hat.

“Well, you see I’m the sheriff.” He seemed to be uncomfortable with the title, strangely enough. “We’ve had lots of folks, ah, leave town, and Tanger needs new citizens.” Did the man ever blink?

“I didn’t realize you were the sheriff. How nice for Tanger.” Her temper was bound to land her in hot water sooner than later.

“No need to get snippy with me, Miss Tucker. I’m looking out for the welfare of the town.”

“I’m not being snippy. I’m just keeping my private life to myself.” A lie, of course, she was being a smart-mouthed brat.

He stepped towards her, and the loose-hipped swagger only accentuated his appeal, dammit. When he stood a mere foot from her he stopped. Up close, his brown eyes were more like whiskey in a crystal-cut glass, a myriad of colors changing at every angle.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” she blurted, angry and embarrassed at her reaction to the man.

The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Is it working?”

Naomi didn’t know how to answer him. If she told the truth, he’d likely use that against her, but if she lied, he might very well try harder. The moment stretched out until she could hear her own heartbeat rushing past her ears. Thankfully Lucy broke the spell by coming back into the room before Naomi did something stupid.

“Let’s get on over to Elmer’s then. I heard Gideon hired Margaret to cook. A good choice, I think. She’s been so odd since her husband passed.” Lucy tucked her arm into the sheriff’s and led him to the door. He turned back and looked at Naomi, a warning, a threat or a promise in his eyes, she wasn’t sure which.

As soon as the couple left her sight, Naomi sat back down at the table and released the breath she’d been holding. As she pressed a hand to her stomach, Naomi reminded herself of what she did have—a job, a place to live and three meals a day, exactly what she needed to live. Her experience in Passman had taught her to be cautious of accepting folks, to be wary and distrustful, with her survival instincts running at full speed. That’s all she’d been doing for so long, surviving one day to the next. No time to think too hard, so why was she feeling all stupid because of the sheriff’s behavior? He meant nothing to her and she had no intention of being in his jail anytime soon.

The logic of the situation didn’t mean anything since she was shaking so hard, she had to put her head between her knees. It was lack of food making her off-balance, not Sheriff Blackwood. After a few minutes, she felt more in control of herself and sat up to find an old white-haired man in front of her with a steaming bowl of something in his hand.

His muddy brown eyes regarded her with something like pity. “You hungry?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” Her stomach moaned in agony at the sight of food.

A small grin kicked up the corner of his mouth as he set the bowl and a spoon on the table beside her. “I’m Joe, the cook and bartender. It ain’t nothing but stew, but it’ll fill your belly.”

“Hello, Joe, my name is Naomi.” She smelled the concoction and her mouth filled with sweet relief at the thought of real food.

“Lucy hire you?”

“She did.” Couldn’t he go back to the kitchen and let her eat? Pretty soon she’d have to start gnawing on her tongue.

Joe nodded. “Been a dog’s age since a pretty blonde came through that door, I expect she snapped you up for the color of your hair, but you need some meat on your bones, girl. A little thing like you ain’t gonna last in a saloon long.” He tsked as if he was describing a tragedy about to happen.

Hunger forgotten momentarily, Naomi sat up straight, her spine snapping into place. “I’ve had my fair share of tough jobs, Joe, including working in saloons, a pig farm and as a dance hall girl. I assure you, this job will
not
break me.”

Too late, Naomi realized her pride had gotten hold of her again and made her sound like a raving bitch to someone she needed to befriend.

Joe’s white eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “That so?”

“I’m sorry, sometimes I let my mouth loose before my head realizes what’s happening.” She held out her hand to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joe, and I thank you kindly for the stew.”

After a brief hesitation, the tall man leaned over to shake her hand. His grip was brief but firm. She appreciated the fact he didn’t continue to treat her like a delicate flower.

“You’re welcome, Miss Naomi. I think you’ll do right fine.”

Naomi smiled, a genuine grin she hadn’t felt the urge to do in a very long time. Joe grinned back.

He sat beside her and gestured to the bowl. “Go on and eat, girl, afore you get the vapors.”

Naomi wanted to roll her eyes at the thought of her getting vapors, but she controlled herself this time. Instead she dug into the stew with gusto, the salty taste of the meat and potatoes heavenly. She chewed the mouthful so fast, a loud burp came sliding up her throat, surprising both of them.

“Excuse me.” Her cheeks heated, but she was so hungry she didn’t care.

“It don’t bother me none. I like a woman with an appetite.” Joe settled back against the chair. “Lucy gone to dinner?”

Naomi nodded. “Yes, she left with Sheriff Blackwood.”

The feelings and thoughts about Zeke Blackwood came rushing back at her. He’d turned her topsy-turvy in just two minutes.

Joe looked a bit surprised. “Sheriff Blackwood?”

“Yes, he said his name was Zeke Blackwood and he was the sheriff. Is that not true?” She continued to fill her mouth between sentences.

“I expect it is true. Tanger’s been needing a lawman for a good spell. Zeke’s a good man, but he needs to keep away from Lucy. She’s the one who kept him dr—” Stopping in mid-sentence, Joe grinned sheepishly. “I ain’t no gossip, Miss Naomi, but sometimes my mouth runs too.” He stood. “I’ve got to clean up the kitchen now. You finish that up and bring the bowl in when you’re done.”

With a grateful smile, Naomi turned back to her dinner and watched Joe shuffle back to the kitchen. He had a hitch in his step and walked as only an old man could. She had a feeling she’d just made her first friend in Tanger.

Zeke listened to Lucy chatter as they walked to the restaurant, but he didn’t hear what she said. At first he was trying to think of a way to tell Lucy this was the last time they’d have dinner together for a while, given the town council’s edict. However, his mind wandered back to the saloon, back to the doe-eyed blonde. The sight of her in that yellow dress had almost sent him back out into the street. It was a strange moment, as if he’d stepped into the past when he’d first seen Allison Delmont.

The woman he could have loved. The woman who’d captured his attention and nearly his heart. The woman who’d been murdered in front of his eyes.

He took a deep breath to pure the memory of the bloody day when she died. Was there anything in town that didn’t have bad memories for him? Naomi had reminded him of Allison in appearance, but as soon as she opened her mouth, he knew she was quite different. Sassy, opinionated and unafraid, Miss Tucker had risen to the bait he’d tossed at her. Her brown eyes had thrown sparks at him.