Beauregard’s twang was in place and she was moving fast in the direction of the McCallister ranch. Evidently Deacon’s offer of a joint venture had been rejected and she preferred partnering with the mangy wolf loping by her side.
Miri wanted to talk to Ned and get on with her business. It was fine taunting Deacon from across a street or by lamplight in Eclipse, but holding a conversation with him while he peered at her for extended periods was becoming a strain.
She was going to have to move on. Her regret put her in a grumpier mood than she should have been. After all, she still had Ned to cash in as soon as she figured out how to get him out of Deacon’s clutches.
But Deacon wasn’t having any of her rush. As soon as they rode into the McCallister barnyard, he let out a whoop that brought his brother out from the barn.
“Who’s cooking this morning? Tell me Eden’s in the kitchen and make me a happy man.”
“Best cook in Texas told me there was a fresh batch of apple butter to slather on her pancakes and she was serving ’em with scrambled eggs, fried taters, gravy and ham.” Sam grinned at Deacon and then peered at Miri thoughtfully. “Wondered when you two were going to get sensible and team up.”
Sam’s description of breakfast made Miri so hungry she had to keep her mouth shut to stop drool from spilling out. As it was, her stomach clenched and growled, embarrassing her with the noise. Deacon didn’t waste time.
He dismounted and led Possum into the barn with Miri still mounted on his back. He threw her a brush, a bucket and a scoop and pointed her at the feed bin and water trough. She didn’t appear to have much choice and the promise of a tasty meal tipped the scales, erasing good sense with hunger.
“Where’s the counterfeiter?” Deacon talked to his cousin and his brother and she listened as she took care of Possum.
“Dan Hawks had use for him. I didn’t.” Sam’s tone didn’t bode well for Ned Jackson. “I hauled him to Hawks Nest soon as you brought him here. You’ll have to question him there. I don’t want the jackass around our women.”
“Guess Ned couldn’t keep his mouth shut here either.” Deacon didn’t seem perturbed by the change of venue for her prisoner. It made it that much harder for her to question him.
But the food smells superseded her impatience and she followed the McCallister men into the ranch kitchen for their morning meal.
“It’s customary to take your hat off inside, pup,” Deacon growled.
It was one of those infrequent moments when Miri’s disguise got in the way of living. Here she was in the midst of a family get-together with people she’d really like to know and she was decked out in Beau’s costume playing an uncouth Tennessee half-grown bumpkin.
Miri didn’t know much about social etiquette and Beau knew even less. It was a good excuse not to take off her hat. The hat pretty much went with the wig and one without the other wasn’t something she cared to risk.
“Pshaw, Deacon, quit picking on the boy. Eat.” Eden moved Miri toward the kitchen table, scolding Deacon along the way. He still got to the table before her and made it a point to sit across from the chair where Eden seated her.
Miri scooted back some, trying to make her lanky frame appear smaller and debating whether to leave or stay. The tantalizing scents coming from the kitchen were too much lure though, and she decided not to let Deacon run her off.
Since she didn’t want to come across as a heathen, though she was one, Beau watched the others and tried her best to mimic their eating habits as she enjoyed the unusual inclusion in a family affair.
“How old are you, Beau?” Eden’s puzzled look finally turned into what was on her mind.
Miri shrugged and deepened her drawl. “I don’t rightly know my birthing day, but the folks at the Home said it looked like I might be pushin’ three years or so when I turned up. I didn’t speak none at the time and don’t remember anything of before, ’cept it bein’ real cold.”
“You were abandoned?” Deacon peered closer at her and Miri squirmed some under his stare. It was tricky sometimes being two people at once. Beau’s past was her past too, but…
“It was snowing real hard the night one of the teachers found me on the stoop and fetched me inside. She said I was wearin’ a nappy and nothin’ else.” Miri had a vague memory of numbing cold that always accompanied feelings of fear. Though the incident had happened a lifetime before, goose bumps chased up and down her arms and she shivered in spite of the heat in the room.
“I stopped there nigh onto seven years. At first I waited for someone to choose me. But me bein’ so big and funny-lookin’, even when I was a young’un, nobody ever wanted me. In the summer of ’71, a couple decided they was takin’ me home. I didn’t like the look of
them
and
I
decided they wasn’t.” Actually, after the man had cornered her alone and she’d stabbed him, Miri had decided leaving was best.
“So you were in an orphanage until you were ten?” Charlie’s wife buttered a roll, her question casual but her look sharp. Miri shifted on her seat uneasily. Naomi had been a schoolmarm and hadn’t lost the knack of getting answers.
“Yep,” Miri mumbled. “The Tennessee Home for Foundlings and Orphans.”
“How did you end up here?” Naomi asked.
“How did you survive?” Charlie Wolf’s mother Rachel McCallister spoke up.
“I just crept out the night before I was to leave and kept goin’.” Miri didn’t really want to delve into all that but she’d roused the curiosity of the McCallister women so it seemed like she had to answer. Seeing Deacon’s speculative look, she immersed herself in her Beauregard character, regaling the McCallisters with stories about her wild ride down the Big Sandy River on a log.
“I’da took the ferry like other folks, but I didn’t have two pennies to rub together. So I made me a raft of sorts and away I went.” She grinned when she told that story. “After I survived my trip down the river, I met some Indians and visited a spell afore I moved on. It was an adventure for sure.”
“If you’re an orphan with no people, where’d you get the name Beauregard?” Deacon asked. She figured if she didn’t answer he’d find something else to query her about, so she told him.
“I never had a last name until a couple years back. I was choppin’ wood in a place named Beauregard, Louisiana. I fancied the name so I decided I’d take it with me when I moved on. It’s the longest I ever heard. I figured it fit me cause of my size, you know what I mean.”
“McCallister is longer,” Deacon said mildly, and then added, “there’s nothing wrong with your size.”
Since Deacon was seated directly across the table from her it was hard to avoid looking at him. The food was heavenly. Miri’s flapjacks melted in her mouth as she forked in bites smothered in apple butter.
“You’re a fine cook,” she told Eden. “Might I have the recipe for your apple butter?”
Deacon choked on his coffee.
“What?”
“You cook?”
“No, but someday I might have an apple tree and if I do, then I’ll have an apple butter recipe handy to use,” she answered his startled question belligerently.
Eden copied the ingredients and instructions on a card while Miri and the men ate. Then she brought it to the table and laid it by Miri’s plate. Deacon reached over, picked it up and read it.
Miri didn’t say anything until he started to put it in his pocket.
“Hey.” She reached across and grabbed the edge of the paper.
“Guess we’ll have to fight for it,” he growled.
“You think you can take me, preacher man?” She laughed out loud, taunting him. As a matter of fact, considering his recent theft of her prisoner, she was eager to put Deacon on his ass in the dust.
“Yep,” he said grimly, staring at her.
It didn’t take long for Sam to do his usual bet collecting and the next thing she knew, the two of them were in the McCallister ranch yard, ringed by the rest of the family.
Deacon took off his gun belt, handing it to Sam.
A prickle of unease coursed through Miri when the McCallister women lined up on her side and faced the men across the circle as though they were backing her in the coming fight.
I sure can’t be losing now.
Not that she was going to. Charlie drew a line in the dirt, stepped outside the circle and nodded.
“First one pins the other’s shoulders wins?” Deacon looked at her as he asked his question.
“Sure,” she agreed. She had a move she’d been wanting to try out on someone and now was a good time. She pulled her hat on tighter and commenced to think like a Kiowa brave. Her opponent was bigger and brawnier than her so she’d have the advantage in speed. Besides, she figured he’d want to keep his pants clean and wouldn’t do more than take a swing or two at her.
“Let the best man win,” she said, bouncing on her toes as she stuck her hand out to shake on it.
As soon as he took her hand, she ducked, pivoted into his hip and hooked her leg behind his knee, pulling him off balance and slamming him on his rump. Before he could recover, she fell down on top of him.
“I win,” she crowed, grinning at the surrounding audience. “Beat ya, McCallister. Told ya not to mess…”
Her words trailed away as she gazed down at how she was straddling him and felt a blush crawl up her neck. She’d warmed considerably between her legs too and wondered if he could feel the heat where she was pressed against his belly. It was embarrassing. Instead of shoving his shoulders to the ground and pinning him, she scrambled up and backed away.
“Best two out of three,” she mumbled, trying to look nonchalant.
“Absolutely,” Deacon agreed, stood and stalked across the yard, stopping in front of her. Just like that, he wrapped her in a bear hug and said, “I’ve got you pinned. Admit it.”
“No fair,” she cried foul. Her arms
were
pinned—to her sides. She tried to butt her head against his but he solved that threat by lifting her off her feet and tossing her into the air. He caught her, holding her around the waist, aloft at least six inches and far enough from him to render her kicks ineffectual. He also wore a grin plastered over his face.
“Deacon,” she yelled. “What in tarnation is wrong with you?”
“Gotcha,” he answered, his grip tightening around her waist.
Gotcha?
She’d said the same thing when she’d wrapped her legs around him in the Pleasure Dome’s fancy bathtub. She stopped kicking, jarred from her Beau persona with a thud. Heat crept from her neck to her face.
Deacon winked and set her on the ground. Before she could run for the hills, he pulled her into his arms, molding her body to his. Shock waves rippled through her. She had a feeling she’d been suckered. She was acutely aware of his chest pressing against her unbound breasts under her buckskins.
“Not so mouthy now, are you, brat?” He was talking low so the others couldn’t hear. “I like Calvin’s wig better than Beauregard’s.”
“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.” She tried to bluff her way when she knew it was a fruitless cause.
“Don’t you?” He put his hand on her rump, and in front of his kin and God Almighty, Deacon fit his long length tighter to her. She could feel his cock pressing against her mound. As a matter of fact, they lined up real nice.
“Charlie, I don’t understand,” Naomi murmured.
“You will shortly,” Charlie answered. The conversation drifted to Miri, jarring her into action.
“Let me go. Your relatives are gettin’ an eyeful.”
“When I feel like it,” he growled. Squinting at her and wearing a satisfied expression, Deacon looked way too pleased with himself.
“I’m in the middle of a hunt. This is not the time for shenanigans,” she muttered.
“So
we
are,” he agreed, continuing to hold her gaze as he included himself in her hunt. “Partners,” he murmured, running his thumb along her lower lip.
“Maybe,” she answered. It wasn’t lost on Miri that he didn’t ask her opinion.
It was hard to maintain the Beauregard persona because it was definitely Miri gawking at him as she stood with her moccasins fused to the dirt and he stepped back, releasing her.
Before he could say or do something else to fluster her, she turned away and headed for the barn. She didn’t have to look to know Deacon was staring at her behind as she walked away. Her body tingled with awareness under the heat of his gaze.
“Better get saddled and ready to ride. Daylight’s burning and Sam’s already gone ahead to let the Hawks Nest riders know we’ll be visiting the stronghold today.”
His pragmatic words trailed behind her when she ducked into Possum’s stall, making her wonder if she’d imagined the moments before.
She’d been pressing him to let her interview the counterfeiter, but suddenly Deacon was urging her to hurry up and making her feel like a slacker for slowing
him
down.
Ketchum bumped against her side, adding his opinion in the mix and indicating he also thought it was time to leave. She made short work of getting Possum ready to ride and joined the remaining McCallister men, mounted and waiting for her in front of the barn.
The morning’s playful expressions were gone. Miri straightened in the saddle, reining Possum toward Deacon’s side. In the face of the grim trio, any exuberance on her part should have been quelled. The truth was, she had to force back the grin fighting to bust loose from her lips. She was riding with the McCallisters and it felt mighty fine.