His Brother's Wife (11 page)

Grace would have to look
through her jewelry when she got back to the ranch. She had no use
for it now. There was no one to impress in Willow Creek, after
all.

Seeing Mrs. Jenkins
looking at her hat gave her another thought. “I have more than a
few dresses I would be willing to trade as well. With hats to
match, of course.”

The smile Mrs. Jenkins
threw her would have brightened the room in the dead of night. “How
many dresses?”

“I don’t know. I brought
everything I own. I’ll go through them tonight and see what I’m
willing to do without. In the meantime, what about these things?
What would you take for them?”

Mrs. Jenkins looked Grace
over again and smiled as her gaze snagged on the brooch at Grace’s
bosom. “How ‘bout that?”

Grace lifted her hand and
unpinned the brooch. It was a cameo, a gift from a suitor who had
her father’s fortune dancing in his eyes. When he found out the
money was gone, so was he.

The brooch was lovely but
held no real sentimental value. Laying it on the counter, Grace
smiled. “You have an excellent eye, Mrs. Jenkins. This is real
mother of pearl and the gold is of very good quality. It would make
a very fine piece for one of your customers.”

“It’s expensive
then?”

“Oh yes. It was custom
made by a jeweler in Boston.”

Mrs. Jenkins’ eyes lit up.
She looked over the things Grace had laid on the counter. Four
dresses, several pairs of socks and a pair of sturdy work boots. “I
can give you all that and some store credit for it.”

Grace smiled. “It’s a
trade, then. Thank you.”

“Pleasure was all mine.”
Mrs. Jenkins grabbed the dresses, folded them and wrapped them in
brown paper, along with the socks. She boxed the boots and placed
everything on the counter. “You still going to bring the dresses
by?”

“Oh, most certainly,”
Grace said.

“Good. I’m sure the ladies
in Willow Creek would love to get their hands on some fancy things
that didn’t need to be ordered.”

“That would be wonderful.
I’ll see what I have and bring them back to town for
you.”

When everything was
totaled and added to the sales book, Grace said her goodbyes to
Mrs. Jenkins and walked outside, slipping her kid gloves back on
and popping her parasol open to shade her from the sun. Jesse was
still packing all their purchases so she waited on the sidewalk for
him to finish.

The people in town gave
her curious looks and she smiled at anyone who looked her way. She
was almost positive everyone at the stagecoach station who’d
witnessed the scene when Rafe and Jesse had come for her had spread
the tale of what they’d seen far and wide. From the glances she
kept getting, she would bet money on it. If she were the betting
kind.

A ruckus further down the
street drew her attention. Several men on horseback came racing
into town, their horses throwing up a cloud of dust in their wake.
When they stopped in front of the saloon, Grace noticed one of them
looked like the man who owned the ranch next to Jesse and Rafe. Ben
Crowley, she recalled Jesse calling him. When one of the other men
said his name, her guess was confirmed.

Up close, he was just as
big as she’d thought. He was older than Rafe if the lines on his
face were any way to judge. His skin was tanned brown from the sun
and his darkened complexion made his hair look a brighter shade of
blond. His clothes were dirty and his horse was
lathered.

When he turned and looked
her way, she wished she wouldn’t have been looking at him. He
smiled at her and crossed the road.

“Afternoon, ma’am.” He
took off his hat, tipping it to her before placing it back on his
head. “I hear congratulations are in order.” Ben looked at Jesse
and grinned.

“Thank you, Mr. Crowley,”
Grace said.

He raised an eyebrow.
“Heard of me, then?”

“Yes. Jesse informed me
who you were when you stopped by the house.”

“I just bet he did.” He
gave her a look from head to toe, his gaze lingering on the
neckline of her dress. He smiled and Grace noticed he had all his
teeth but the stains coloring them shades of yellow and brown
weren’t very becoming. “When is the big day?” he asked.

“Soon,” she said. “I
believe the preacher is out of town at the moment.”

“Probably will be for a
while yet.” Ben grinned, the sight of his stained teeth causing
Grace to turn her head. “Folks might start talking with you shacked
up with Rafe and Jesse the way you are.”

“People will spread rumors
regardless of the facts, Mr. Crowley.”

“Maybe but people get
curious.” Something in his tone made Grace look back at him. He was
leering at her, his gaze fixed on her breasts. “You earning your
keep over there at Rafe’s place?”

Grace was taken aback. “I
beg your pardon?”

Ben looked her in the eye
then. “Earning your keep,” he said again, his voice pitched low.
“You know, cooking, cleaning… keeping Rafe company when the kid
ain't around?” He laughed, a wheezing little sound that spoke of
illness. “Lord knows if I had a woman like you in my house, I’d
have you underneath me every chance I got, butt ass naked and
screaming my name.”

Insulted to the root of
her soul, Grace lashed out instinctively. She slapped his face.
When he laughed at her, she slapped him again.

He grabbed her wrist in a
grip hard enough to bruise and it wasn’t until she gasped from the
pain that she remembered Jesse. He’d apparently seen the entire
confrontation. He rammed into Ben’s middle with both shoulders,
taking all three of them to the ground.

Grace sat stunned for long
moments before checking herself and standing. Ben’s foremen on the
other side of the street came running and within seconds, the
street was filled with bystanders watching Ben and Jesse roll
across the sidewalk screaming and yelling.

The scuffle should have
frightened her but anger at Ben's rude words and the fact he was
fighting with a child overrode the fear. When Ben grabbed Jesse
around the neck and yelled in his face, Grace lifted her leg and
kicked the foul man where his unborn grandchildren would feel it.
The unmanly scream he let out reached the other end of town,
everyone out and about stopped and looked their way, including the
marshal. He ran toward them seconds later.

By the time Marshal Avery
reached the brawling trio, both Ben and Jesse were bleeding and
Grace was screaming like a banshee and stomping on the man as if he
were on fire.

Chapter Eleven

Rafe tied his horses reins
to the hitching post in front of the marshal’s office and ignored
the group of people milling around on the sidewalk. He’d been knee
deep in mucking out stalls when Percy Goins came riding into the
yard yelling that there was trouble in town. A fight of some sort
and Jesse and Grace were right in the middle of it.

He opened the door to the
marshal’s office and walked inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust
to the low light. Someone in the back was yelling, threatening to
burn the whole town down. The moment he recognized the voice as
belonging to Ben Crowley, he grimaced. What had happened
now?

Childhood friend, and the
marshal in Willow Creek, Morgan Avery, walked into the room from
the hall and smiled when he saw him standing there. “You missed a
hell of a show, Rafe.”

“So I’ve been told.” He
crossed the room and held out his hand to his old friend. “How you
been, Morgan?” The two men shook hands and the look on Morgan’s
face held a hint of mischief. Rafe couldn’t remember a time when it
hadn’t. Of all the Avery's, Morgan was the one who held himself
back from the rest but his amusement was always clear. It showed in
the sun-darkened plains of his face. Seeing Morgan always brought
back memories of youth, some of which he'd just as soon
forget.

“I've been good," Morgan
said before laughing, "You've got a handful over on that ranch of
yours, don't you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "That little lady
you have staying with you is one hell of a wild cat. I think she
may have blacked my eye.”

Rafe listened as Morgan
explained what had happened. He didn’t believe half of it. Well,
Ben’s participation in it he did, but Grace? Brawling on a sidewalk
like some drunkard.

When he had all the facts,
Rafe looked toward the back where the cells were. “You got them all
back there?”

“Yes. I hated putting her
in there Rafe but she was fighting mad when I tried to break the
fight up.” He laughed and rubbed the side of his face. “She has a
wicked right hook.”

Morgan led him down the
hall to the cells. Sure enough, there was Grace, sitting on the
edge of the cot with her ridiculous looking hat on, her feathers
rumpled and the bird nest close to falling off. Her clothes were
wrinkled and dirty, her hair falling down in places and the guilt
on her face would have brought him a weeks worth of amusement any
other time. Today, it just annoyed the hell out of him.

Morgan walked back into
the front room and Rafe looked around the other cells and spotted
Jesse. The boy was slouched against the wall holding a towel to his
bleeding head. His throat looked a funny shade of blue and he was
staring at the floor. Ben, of course, was grinning. Rafe ignored
him and turned to Grace. “Marshall says you started a brawl in the
street.”

She flashed him a look hot
enough to singe the hide off of him before turning that heated
glare to Ben and pointed a finger at him. “That man insulted me. He
deserved everything that happened to him.”

“The hell I did,” Ben
yelled, walking across the cell and grabbing onto the bars. “You
damn near stomped my cock into chicken food.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t
want it if it smells as bad as the rest of you!” Grace raised a
hand to her mouth then, her eyes wide as she looked at Rafe. “I’m
sorry. That wasn’t very lady-like.”

Rafe tilted his head to
her. “Neither is stomping on a man’s cock.”

“Well, he deserved it and
I’d do it again.”

And she probably would,
too. Rafe looked at Jesse. “You okay, kid?”

For once, Jesse didn’t
argue about being called a kid. He looked up, tears in his eyes.
That alone made him want to take Ben out back and show him what a
real beating felt like.

He turned and walked back
into the main room and found Morgan. “Are they being
charged?”

“No. There wasn’t any real
damage done. From the way I hear it, Ben let his mouth get in the
way again and promptly got it slapped. Unless he wants to press
charges, which I doubt he does, they’re free to go.” Morgan stood
from his chair and raised an eyebrow at Rafe. “Unless you want to
file your own charges. A grown man has no right to be fighting with
a boy, let alone a lady.”

Rafe wasn’t sure about the
“lady” part but having to face a judge and present Jesse as a
“child” would irritate the kid more than usual. They had enough
problems as it was. “No. I’ll just take them home.”

Rafe walked outside and
waited on Grace and Jesse to be let go. He noticed the wagon still
sitting in front of the mercantile loaded with goods and when the
sound of voices reached him he turned, staring at Jesse and Grace.
They both looked a sight. Bruised, dirty and guilty as sin. “Jesse,
ride the horse back. I’ll take the wagon.” He didn’t have to tell
Grace to follow him, she was on his heels the second he started
walking.

“It wasn’t our fault,
Rafe.”

He ignored her until they
reached the wagon. Then, he turned, grabbed her around the waist
and lifted her none too gently onto the wagon seat. She sat without
a word. He was glad for it. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to her at
the moment.

Jesse was clearing town
and a good ways up the road by the time Rafe got the wagon turned
around and headed in the direction of home. People on the street
were still staring and there wasn't a doubt in his mind they’d be
the talk of the town for the next month if for no other reason than
they all had proof Grace was staying with them.

The speculation of that
alone would feed the gossips for weeks. They’d make up all kinds of
wild accusations about her and after the fight with Ben, he’d have
a damn hard time getting them to believe all the rumors weren’t
true. He wasn’t even sure why he cared. If he were smart, he’d take
what little savings they had, buy her the next stagecoach ticket
out of Willow Creek, and send her off without blinking an
eye.