Authors: Jillian Hart
Calico Bride (9 page)
What had it cost him to climb out of bed? He was barely strong enough to sit up, and yet he'd walked here to comfort her, regardless of the pain he had to be in. He'd done that for her.
Don't read too much into it,
she warned herself. She spun on her heels and quietly closed the screen door. Maybe Burke would do the same for anyone he knew. Maybe he was simply being a good friend. He
was
a Range Rider, after all, a man of exemplary honor.
The instant she waltzed into the storeroom, she spotted one of the new crates that had just come in on the morning train, the top off, showing a handful of titles from their latest book order. She let her fingertips rest on the spine of one volume of her favorite series. She had already plucked her copy of the newest installment and it was waiting for her upstairs on her nightstand. The character in the books would definitely push himself beyond all limits just to be helpful. But it seemed to her in comparison that Burke's caring toward her went beyond an employee's devotion to his job.
Didn't she just tell herself not to read too much into his actions? The man had an impossible hold on her, but one thing was sure. He was a very, very good man.
She grabbed an empty crate and filled the first order, humming.
"
He'd just turned fifteen at the start of summer. In the hot evening sun, Burke situated the old gun against his shoulder and ignored the sting of the morning's beating that had broken the skin on his back. He concentrated on lining up the notch on the barrel with the five-inch piece of scrap two-by-four sitting on top of the stump.
"How long are you gonna stay with them folks?" Olly talked around a plug of tobacco.
"You mean the farmer and his wife? "Til the end of the harvest." Harvest felt like a long time away.
"Do you like stayin' with "em?"
"No, but I've stayed with worse. Much worse." Burke let the kiss of the late-July breeze ruffle his hair and tug at his battered hat brim. It waved through the seed-heavy tips of the wild grasses and sent daisies to nodding as he let out a breath, fastened his gaze on his target and squeezed the trigger. The old rifle let out a ringing blast and a burst of fire. The lead bullet thudded into the wood and set it flying into the grass. Bull's-eye. He shrugged. "Got nowhere else to go but the orphanage. If I go back now, they'll just find me some other farm to work."
"You ought to strike out on your own." Olly spat juice into the grass as he chased down the chunk of wood. He held it up in the air. "Dead center. Don't no one shoots like you do."
"It's not like it can do me any good." He stood the rifle upright on its butt and poured gunpowder down the barrel'just enough, not too much. "It's not like I can earn a living at it."
"Sure you can."
"Me? No. I wish." The plug of tobacco Olly had given him soured his mouth and made his stomach sick-feeling. It was hard talking around a wad stuck into his cheek, so he spit the whole thing into the grass, hoping his buddy wouldn't notice. They'd met at the swimming hole back in April, where Burke had come to wash off the grime from long days of sowing oats, wheat and corn. They'd been fast friends ever since in what little spare time Burke had. He gave the barrel a shake and a tap.
"My pa does." Olly set another chunk of wood on the stump. He carried his polished Winchester carelessly, as if he was used to packing a firearm, a man of the world.
"Is he some kind of gunslinger?" Burke fed a bullet into the muzzle and used the ramrod to push it deep into the barrel.
"You could say that." Olly kicked at daisies and sent their heads flying into the grass as he made his way back from the stump. "See if you can shoot that one dead center."
The chunk was smaller, maybe three inches. A challenge. "You're on." Burke raised the hammer, slid a cap over the hollow pin. He settled the rifle against his shoulder and carefully sited.
A rattle of a wagon bouncing over road ruts startled him awake. Burke blinked. The bright memory of the dream broke apart and faded like smoke as one of the brothers who ran the livery stable pulled a pretty pair of quick-stepping bays to a stop.
"Whoa, there." Walton Dane climbed down. "Deputy, you have been the talk of the town, at least until today. Now poor Arthur is. A shame what's happening to a peaceful place like this. Some say it's the railroad's fault."
"Others might say it's man's fault." Burke tried to boost himself off the bench seat, but nothing happened. He swept off his hat, rested his back against the cool brick wall and breathed in enough air to make his head stop swimming. "Doing wrong is a man's choice."
"We didn't used to see many men like that in these parts." Walton paraded onto the porch. "Now we've got "em on the town's payroll."
Hard to miss the venom in Dane's words. He tried to stand again and he made it off the bench. He broke out in a weak, cold sweat.
"You had better watch yourself, Deputy." Dane yanked open the screen door. "Folks are hoppin' mad about the sheriff. One day they just might run him out of town. That might go for you, too."
"No one is running me anywhere." He hated the physical weakness trembling through him when he needed to be strong. He had a job to do, a sheriff to stop.
"We'll see." Dane shouldered through the door, leaving behind an air of disdain that was hard to ignore.
Folks were starting to think he was in league with the sheriff. He couldn't let it bother him. He wouldn't be a good Rider if he didn't. He did his best to ignore the pain slicing through his ribs, maneuvered forward and made it to the screen door.
"Coming through!" Lila sang in her dulcet alto, three crates stacked high in her arms. She peered over the top of a small bag of flour. "Go wait for me in the wagon. I'm taking you home, mister."
"Is that so?" He manhandled the crates from her so smoothly, she didn't have time to protest. Too bad his wounds didn't have time to hurt. Humor made the pain matter less. "Remember, I don't take orders from a woman."
"You must be getting used to it by now. Give me back my crates."
"Not a chance, sweetheart." The light drained from his eyes as he took the first step off the porch. It hurt so much. He stumbled into the alley blindly and gave thanks when his vision cleared. He hoped Lila couldn't see his knees shake or hear the groan of keen-edged pain he did his best to bite back. So far so good. He wasn't bleeding or lying on the ground, so he gathered every scrap of willpower he possessed and hefted the crates up into the wagon bed and lost his eyesight again.
"Move aside, Deputy." Dane returned, carrying a stack of six and plopped the boxes down like they weighed nothing at all. "Lila, do you want a hand up? I'll get the rest of the orders."
"I can climb up myself, thanks." She waltzed up next to him in the shade of the wagon, her presence restoring his vision and easing his pain. She tied her sunbonnet ribbons into a bow beneath her chin. "Time to get you home, Deputy."
"Home? No. I'm staying with you." The need to protect her rose up fiercely within him, greater than any pain and mightier than any weakness. "I intend to keep you safe."
"Unnecessary. I'm perfectly safe if I stay in town."
"You never know what might befall you." He grabbed hold of the side of the wagon to keep steady. "It's better to be safe than sorry."
"What if I'm a risk-taker? What if I like to let the winds blow where they may?" She swung up onto the wagon seat before he could help her.
Sunshine slanted into his eyes and outlined her with blazing gold, and against the bold blue sky she could have been a dream he had wished into his life. Emotion choked him as he followed her shakily onto the seat. "That's risky talk for a fabric counter clerk. I think you need me."
"I need you?" She tugged up the brim of her sunbonnet. The sage-green color brought out the luster of her bright hair and the compelling green in her irises. She arched one slender eyebrow. "You are entirely wrong, Deputy. It's you who needs me. I fed you, remember?"
"I do. I'm grateful. You are a good cook." His throat felt doubly thick. The words sounded clumsy as he reached for the reins.
"I saw that wince. Burke, I don't want you to strain yourself. You could have died from your wounds." Her hand settled lightly on his arm. All humor faded as she searched his face. Honest caring radiated from her, the most beautiful thing he'd ever known.
All he wanted was to have her gaze upon him with caring and kindness for the rest of his days. If he could have her, then he would cherish her with all the might he possessed.
He could never be worthy. He waited for Dane to latch the tailgate before he snapped the reins. "I'm too tough to die."
"That's your opinion. I have a different one. Since it's a free country, I'm going to keep it. You won't change my mind."
"If only I were strong enough to try." He did his best not to fall off the seat. He had a hard time focusing on the alley ahead. He kept the horses walking slow and hoped his dizziness would fade. "I can be stubborn, too. I'm going to do my job. You won't stop me."
"Your job? Driving my father's delivery wagon is your job?"
"Close enough. While I'm laid up and no use to the town, I may as well spend my time protecting ladies and their wagons when I can." He hoped she could not guess why his voice sounded strained or why he could not look at her as he chirruped to the horses to keep them walking.
"Yes, I'm glad you can make yourself useful," she said lightly. "As long as you don't fall off the wagon seat."
"I'm getting the swing of driving while dizzy."
"There ought to be a law about that."
"I'll be sure and take it up with the sheriff."
The back stoops and windows of the alleys passed in a blur. He was able to focus enough to see a donkey pulling a cart turn off Main and head in their direction.
"Lila!" Mr. Grummel called as he approached. "I heard about your father. Oy. At least you have the deputy beauing you. Smart girl."
"It's nothing like that, Mr. Grummel!" Lila explained, but the older man held up his hand to wave off her words, chuckling. She frowned. "Some people leap to the oddest conclusions."
"That they do." He eased the horses to a halt at the intersection. When Lila smiled up at him, it made him forget about the past, leaving only the here and now where there was no reason he couldn't care about her, no reason they couldn't be more than friends.
Chapter Nine
"I
"m sorry this is so late." Lila handed over the last crate on the daily order. The prairie winds pleasantly swirled her skirts and ruffled the tendrils that had worked their way out of her braided up-knot.
"I'm surprised you were able to make it at all." Joanna McKaslin took the crate gladly. "After my husband heard what happened to your father, he planned on driving into town tomorrow to fetch the order. Is it safe for you to be driving on the roads alone?"
"I'm not alone." For the thirteenth time that afternoon she gestured toward the wagon seat where Burke sat holding the reins. The breeze ruffled the ends of his dark hair. Dressed in black, his face shaded by the dark brim of his Stetson, he could have been any woman's dream come true. Not that she was dreaming.
Fine, she was dreaming, but only a little bit.
"He insisted on coming along with me. Since I couldn't get rid of him, I decided to make the out-of-town deliveries, too," she explained, praying she wasn't blushing.
"Deputy Hannigan." Joanna smiled her approval. "I don't pay any attention what some folks have been saying about him. I'll never forget how he stopped to help us in town last month. James had been stung by a bee and the deputy went to the trouble of asking the clerk in the nearest shop to make a poultice for him to take the pain away. That man has a kind heart."
"Yes, he does." He also had a stalwart spirit'or a stubborn one, depending on how you wanted to look at it. He'd insisted on driving through town, patiently negotiating traffic and residential streets although he looked ready to tumble off the seat. Would he admit he was in pain?
Never. She watched him like a hawk, but she'd only caught the tiniest grimace twice. He'd blithely talked her into the out-of-town deliveries, since he was armed and he didn't figure any robbers would want to raise trouble with the town's deputy. He sat powerfully, as if not a thing was wrong with him, but she knew better.
"Have a nice evening, Joanna."
"You, too, Lila. My family is keeping your father in prayer."
"Thank you so much." She crossed the shady covered porch and hopped onto the sun-blasted pathway flanked by flowers blooming merrily in boarder beds. Bees buzzed and the distant sound of children's laughter came from somewhere behind the house.
Burke held out his hand to help her into the wagon. Maybe he did look a little better. The fresh air may have done him some good. She plopped onto the seat next to him and arranged her skirts. The dappled shade overhead was refreshing. She could not admit to herself it might be the company.
"That was the last delivery." He snapped the reins. "The next stop, home?"
"Are you anxious to be rid of me?" She tugged at her sunbonnet as the matched bays plodded forward. The wagon rattled and lumbered along the dusty driveway toward the country road, bouncing her on the seat. She pushed her bonnet off her head and let it dangle by the strings down her back. The breeze fanned her face and her hair. Much better.
"Yes, I am anxious to be rid of you, but you already know that." Humor hooked the corner of his mouth, betraying his real feelings. "I'm a lone wolf. Spending an entire afternoon with a lady is more than I can do."
"You need toughening up, Deputy." She knelt down to unbutton her right shoe. "Maybe I can help you with that."
"Do I look like I need help?" The hook of his grin widened. "I'm too tough for that."
"Good, because your afternoon with me is not over yet." She loosened her shoelaces.
"What does that mean? That was the last stop."
"I packed a few snacks when I was crating the orders." She slid her foot out of her shoe. Her summer weight stocking felt too hot, so she shucked it off. "Why don't you take the next right when we hit the road to town?"
"Are you going to leave that off? Because if you are, I don't think it's decent that I see your bare feet. Your stepmother might come after me with a broom."
"It's just my feet, and besides, didn't you just say you were tough?"
"There's tough and then there's stupid. Put your shoe back on."
"No, I'm dying in this heat. The thermometer at the bank said it was ninety-five when we were in town last. It's gotten much hotter since." She bent to undo her other shoe. She didn't list the reasons why she was so uncomfortable. Her corset bound her tightly, a layer of clothing she could not take off. Her petticoats were the lightest cotton, but also added to her discomfort. Did her feet have to be hot, too? "Just don't look."
"I'll try to restrain myself." He chuckled as he reined the horses onto the main stretch of road, desolate and dusty this time of day. "But if your stepmother finds out, I'm blaming you."
"Much better." She tugged off her other shoe and wiggled her toes. "Turn right up there. It's not a driveway, but the wagon won't tip over."
"You've been here before?"
"It's the best spot to wade the river in the entire county."
Tall grasses gave glimpses of old wagon tracks as they danced and swayed. He urged the horses off the road and onto the bumpy ground. The wagon wheels lurched over clumps of bunch grass as the horses picked up their gait. Rich shade beckoned beneath the arching rustle of old cottonwoods and the lush grass looked invitingly cool. The music of the river sang above all the other sounds. Sunshine on water glinted with promise.
It was hard to believe strife could happen anywhere in the world with beauty like this, hard to believe Slim's gang and Cheever lurked in this peaceful prairie valley. He knew they were probably behind the attack on Lila's father. They hadn't gotten away with a lot of money from the bank, and they had to eat. The delivery wagon was full of groceries and supplies. His promise to her weighed heavily on him. He would catch Slim and Cheever. Arthur Lawson deserved justice.
Lila hopped from the seat, not bothering to wait for his assistance. He suspected his tough act hadn't fooled her nearly enough. She knew he was in pain. She was a dear sight as she landed with her bare feet crunching in the grass. She reached up, arms slim and elegant and plucked the pins out of her hair. The coil of her long braid came loose and slid down her back. She tossed her head innocently, lifting her face to take in the kiss of the cooler wind off the river's surface. Her thick lashes brushed her ivory skin as she closed her eyes briefly, savoring the sensation of the wind.
His pulse tumbled. He lost the ability to think. He forgot how to breathe. Never had there been a more arresting sight. He memorized the moment, the curve of her cheek, the faint smile on her lips and how alive she was, crowned by the sunny sky and surrounded by daisies. One day far in the future he would want to remember this moment, remember her.
He stumbled down and tied the horses, unable to look away. He laid his hand on the grip of his .45 tucked in the waistband at his back. The trouble had happened far out of town, nowhere near here, but he could keep her safe. In a blink, he would lay down his life to protect her, his Lila, as sweet as the wildflowers brushing at her skirts.
"This way." She circled around a thistle flower where a big honey bee drank and skirted in the other direction to avoid the crown of a gopher hole. A jackrabbit darted through the foliage, terrified by the invader in a calico dress. Across the span of the river a doe lifted her head from grazing to stare at them warily.
"Divine." She sank both feet into the clear water, holding her skirt safely out of the water with both hands. "Oh, it's so cool. You have to feel this."
"I haven't gone wading since I was fifteen years old." The summer his life had gone from miserable to worse. The summer he'd grown up in a hurry. He'd lost more than his innocence that year, things he'd never been able to get back. "Kids play in the river."
"Don't you dare call me a kid." She flicked one long braid behind her shoulder and lifted her skirts higher. The snowy white lace edging her petticoats flashed against the silvery water's surface. "You are far too much of a stick-in-the-mud for your own good. Always playing the hero."
"Hero? Hardly. Maybe I'm the villain. You just don't know it." It was the truth and he held his breath. What would she say? Would she believe him?
"A villain? I don't think so."
Maybe she couldn't see it now, but she would. He sank onto a nearby boulder at the grassy edge. Eventually she would be able to see the real man he was. He couldn't hide it forever.
"I know what you are, Burke Hannigan." Water sparkled around her. She marched toward him, splashing rainbow droplets with every step. "You are in danger of suffering heat sickness. A little fun isn't going to hurt you."
"It might. You never know. I'm not used to frivolity."
"Yes, but something tells me you aren't opposed to it." She knelt at his feet and untied his boots. "At least give it a try. Since you are on leave from work, what else do you have to do?"
"Riding shotgun with you isn't as easy as a man might guess." He resisted the syrupy feelings gathering deep inside. "I can untie my own boots."
"Let me do it." She tugged on the second pair of laces and they fell free. "I don't want you to bend over too far and tear your stitches."
"My stitches are fine."
"I know." Mesmerizing tendrils tumbled forward to shield her face. Her affection warmed the air like summer and it made forgotten seeds take root within him. An answering affection he had no right to took root along with wishes he had no chance at.
She tugged off his boots and then his socks. He should stop her but he couldn't. He could not turn down her care and her closeness. When she rolled up his trousers to his knees with ladylike tugs on the fabric, he did his best to hold back his heart. He truly did. It fell anyway.
She cared for him. It was not right, it would not last, but for this moment he could not reject it. He needed it more than air to breathe, more than any sustenance. When she offered her hand to help him up, it was more that she offered. More that he accepted.
"You have gone gray again." She slid her arm around his back, as if to support some of his weight.
She probably had no notion what that meant to him, how she stole a piece of him. He didn't need to lean on her, he was too proud and independent to do it now that he was back on his feet, but he loved her for it. He loved her.
"The rocks are a little slippery and the water is'"
"Cold," he supplied, startled by the icy bite of the current. The wetness sluiced over his toes and lapped around his ankles. The gray stone river rocks bit into his soles, but she was right. He cooled down ten degrees. He grabbed the brim of his hat and tossed it into the grass.
"There's a boulder over there." She pulled him upstream into the tug of the current. Silt clouded upward like dust with every footstep. "I'll get you sitting down and then I'll fetch the treats from the wagon."
"You have been spending too much time with your stepmother." He grabbed hold of her braid and tugged, gently, before draping his arm around her shoulder. Not to lean on her, but to draw her close to his side. Being with her was nicer than anything he'd ever known. "You are not in charge here."
"Oh, and you are?" She planted her feet, forgot about her skirts and they dropped into the rushing water. Not that she noticed. "Because you are the man, I suppose?"
"Why? You act like that's the wrong answer. Of course I'm in charge because I'm the man."
"I can't believe my ears." Mirth made her eyes twinkle like emeralds. "The hero in the Range Rider books would never say something like that."
"I'm no hero," he protested lightly.
"But you have your passable moments. This isn't one of them. I think I've discovered the reason why you are a lone wolf. No one woman would have you."
"Yes. You've stumbled on the truth." His foot slipped on a stone, and he was glad she was there to steady him. He hated the weakness that left him shaky as he eased onto the sunny rock. Water gurgled around him and to his left the river spanned wide and dangerous. But here, in the dappled shade of the cottonwoods with both the horses and the country road in sight, Lila was safe. He could relax and let his guards slide down. "No woman has ever wanted me."
"I'm not at all surprised." She towered above him, blocking the sun, lithe and willowy and full of life and beauty. "The article in the newspaper warned you were not about to be caught by any lady in this town. Pete, who owns the paper, wasn't kidding."
"I get that everywhere I go. If there's a town newspaper they want to know if I'm single and willing." He raked a hand through his hair.
"But you're too much of a lone wolf." She waded away from him, her skirt hem floating in the water. "Haven't you been tempted even once?"
"Once." The truth rolled out, impossible to stop.
"Ooh, now I have to know more." She bounded up the bank, her alto bobbing on the breezes. "What was her name?"
"Sorry, but that's on a need-to-know basis."
"And don't I need to know?" She swirled through the daisies and went up on tiptoe to lug a few items from beneath the wagon seat. "I'm curious about the woman who could bring down your defenses."
"She is quite amazing." He leaned forward to dip his finger into the cold water. "I have never met anyone like her before."
"Do tell. I'm listening." She splashed into the glinting water, startling a dragonfly hovering nearby. Her skirts billowed around her as the current tugged and flowed. "Did she steal your heart?"
"As close as anyone has ever come," he confessed.
"Not that you would release it completely, ever really let anyone in." With a small basket hooked over one arm, she dipped the water bottle into the rippling water, filling it. "Or did you?"