Marshal of Hel Dorado (9 page)

 
    
“Yes, sir.” Lena all but fled the room,
embarrassment trailing behind her. Annabeth chuckled as she watched her
daughter go.

 
    
“This Vincent is a good man, yes?” She
paused to give Jed a long look.

 
    
“He’s a fair one. Good with the animals, a
hard worker and doesn’t carry a grudge. I expect a good year of working his way
up to it and he could be building a cabin for our girl.”

 
    
“Thank you, Mister Jed.”

 
    
“Well, you go look after her and don’t
hesitate to let me know if the boy needs a thrashing or two to see some sense.”
Jed waited for Annabeth to sail out of the room after her daughter before the
three men took their seats.

 
    
Sam glanced across the table and saw the
questions on Scarlett’s face. He reached for the basket of biscuits and held it
out to her generously, feeling the reluctant pluck to explain. “Lena lost her
beau in the war. She’s been grieving for five years now. So we’re a might
particular about the boys that come calling.”

 
    
She took one of the biscuits with careful
fingers and set it down next to the food on her already heavily laden plate.
“That’s very sweet of you.”

 
    
“We look after our family,” Sam held her
gaze before nodding his head at his father and brother meaningfully. “We’re not
going to let anyone hurt them.”

 
    
Scarlett’s sunny disposition slipped
further as she received his message and Sam nodded to himself, ignoring the
darker looks his father and brother sent in his direction. His little minx may
have them fooled, but he wasn’t about to let her use his family against him.

 
    
T
he
lunch was the longest, strangest hour of her life. Sam all but ignored her
throughout the meal, addressing any discussions to his father and brother.
Until Micah pulled her into the talks about their breeding stock, how the
Flying K selected which mares to breed and which stallions would stand stud.
Horses she understood, particularly Micah’s desire to breed gentleness,
endurance and strength.

 
    
Micah’s face lit up when he talked about
horses, growing more animated and that earned her scowls from Sam. She tried to
ignore the disapproval that simmered across the table from her, but every time
she met his eyes, she resisted the urge to shrink back into the seat.

 
    
“I don’t think that’s really an appropriate
discussion for a lady,” Sam’s gaze focused on Micah, spreading his disapproval
around.

 
    
“Why not? Scarlett’s got a good grasp of
animal husbandry. Don’t you, sweetheart?” He tacked the endearment on at the
end with a smirk towards his brother, not her.

 
    
The food sat like a stone in her stomach,
so she pushed the mashed potatoes around. She would have to apologize to Lena
later for not doing the meal more justice. She’d been very hungry when she sat
down, but now all she wanted to do was get away from the table.

 
    
Get away from Sam.

 
    
“I like horses. They’re simple. They’re
straightforward and they don’t go out of their way to make you feel bad about
being whom you are. They just accept you based on how you treat them.” Scarlett
wasn’t afraid of a fight. Far from it, but she was tired and she was growing
more annoyed with Sam’s attitude. Prisoner or not, under arrest or not, he
brought here her, she didn’t ask to come to the ranch or meet his family or be
invited to a meal.

 
    
“They also distrust based on behavior too.
You slap a horse or take its food, it will either try to take it back or
runaway, it doesn’t look for praise.”

 
    
She dabbed at her mouth with a linen
napkin, her posture stiffening. The dress was a lot more fabric than she was
used to wearing and the stiff whalebone in the corset was tight as a noose
around her chest.

 
    
“It would depend on why you smacked the
horse or took the food. Manners are to be rewarded. Lead mares will drive young
foals and yearlings off the feed if they are kicking, snapping or pawing at
their elders.”

 
    
“It’s only effective as long as the
survival of that yearling is dependent on being in the herd, otherwise it’s
just cruel.” Sam sliced into his chicken, biting into a forkful as though
attacking it.

 
    
“But horses aren’t cruel by nature. That’s
a purely human trait.” Scarlett lifted her chin, her gaze narrowing as she met
and held Sam’s. She refused to flinch or back down. Sam was pushing, pushing
hard, and her brothers did the same, pouncing on the first flagging sign of her
defense.

 
    
“I agree. You can trust a horse to stay
true to its nature. Women, on the other hand, know how to manipulate men into
getting what they want.”

 
    
“Samuel.” With one word, his father
silenced the Marshal and Scarlett resisted the urge to give him a look of
gratitude. This was her fight and that statement stung.

 
    
“Don’t listen to him, Miss Scarlett. Sam’s
hide is too tough to be led about by a woman, but he’s convinced their all
trying too. He hasn’t figured out yet that women aren’t interested in sour
dispositions and snarled conversations.” Micah nudged her chair with his boot,
a familiar show of support.

 
    
The giggle slipped out before she could
stop it. Scarlett pressed the napkin to her lips and murmured an apology. “To
be fair, the Marshal has every reason to distrust me.”

 
    
She wasn’t sure who was more surprised by
her defense: Sam, his family or herself. But she pressed on.

 
    
“We’ve only just met and not under the best
of circumstances, I admit. I think Sam’s been as kind as could be expected and
trust is something one must earn.”

 
    
Scarlett studied the emotions that flitted
across Sam’s face. They were quick as summer clouds on a windy day, moving too
swift to understand the true shape of them. His slow nod was an unexpected
boon. Scarlett didn’t want to be Sam’s enemy, even if she couldn’t tell him the
truth or answer his questions about her brothers.

 
    
“We have time to fix that then,” Micah
grinned, scraping the last bite off food off his plate. He glanced at her food
with interest. “Aren’t you hungry, Miss Scarlett?”

 
    
Micah was like Cody, always hungry and she
pushed her plate towards him. “Please, help yourself.”

 
    
“Thank you!” He went to work offloading her
uneaten chicken, mashed potatoes and the biscuit Sam gave her to his own plate.

 
    
“Scarlett,” Jebediah cleared his throat,
setting his napkin down across his cleared plate.

 
    
With one word, he pulled her attention away
from Sam. Scarlett braced herself. Jebediah Kane had been exceedingly kind to
her since her arrival, sweeping aside any possible objections with quick
directives and an air of expectation.

 
    
She had a feeling that kindness was about
to be tested.

 
    
“Yes, sir?” She gripped her hands together
in her lap, nerves fluttering around the stone in her belly.

 
    
“You understand you’re safe here. No one on
this ranch is going to hurt you.”

 
    
“Yes, sir.” As safe as a prisoner could be,
she supposed. The senior Kane didn’t treat her as a prisoner at all and Micah
was as playful as any of her brothers, but the censure in Sam’s eyes was an all
to real reminder that she was not a guest.

 
    
To be fair, she was already considering how
to leave. She’d checked the barn’s location from the windows of her room after
the bath. She’d looked at the clothes Lena laid out for her and worried about
the ones she’d taken away. The dress was not something she wanted to ride in,
not that she was considering taking any of their horses.

 
    
Horse thieves were the worst of the worst
and she wouldn’t be reduced to that. But on foot, it could take her days to
meet back up with her brothers, if she made it that far. Borrowing a horse
might be her only option.

 
    
The faint clearing of Jed’s throat dragged
her attention back to the present. Her gaze flickered across to Sam. The
Marshal leaned back in the chair, his eyes were hooded, but she could feel the
weight of his stare pressing down on her, stripping away the green velvet and
looking deep inside.

 
    
Her stomach fluttered again. She wondered
what it would be like if he did strip off her dress, pressed up against her and
touched her with the rough calluses on his palms. He was hard and lean in all
the same places she was soft and curvy. She could recall the way his body
pressed to hers in the saddle and heat pooled in her middle, spreading upwards,
like a geyser.

 
    
She could feel her own blush stinging her
cheeks and she forced her gaze away, digging her nails into her hands in an
effort to get control. Sparks tingled along her palms. Scarlett gulped in a
deep breath of air, then another, forcing her heart to calm down.

 
    
The fire inside of her wanted out.

 
    
“Samuel told me about the men who were with
you at the bank. We know they left you behind, but you don’t have to worry
about them coming back for you. You’re safe here.” The words were carefully
framed. Jebediah’s drawl lengthening each word for maximum effect.

 
    
A frown knitted Scarlett’s brows together.
Jebediah was reassuring her, but her brothers weren’t a threat to her. He was
wrong.

 
    
They would come back for her.

 
    
If they didn’t find her, they might pull
the town apart.

 
    
She swallowed, saying nothing. She would no
sooner betray Cody and the boys than they would abandon her. She knew the only
reason she wasn’t already riding west with them was the Marshal pulled her out
of the town in the middle of the night.

 
    
But Cody knew her scent.

 
    
He’d follow it.

 
    
No matter how far east the Marshal carried
her.

 
    
Still, she struggled with how to respond to
Jebediah’s offer of comfort. Maybe. “I will have to return to Dorado
eventually, won’t I?”

 
    
She looked across the table to Sam. He’d
said something about sending word for a judge.

 
    
She would have to face trial. They couldn’t
do that at the Flying K, could they?

 
    
Jebediah surprised her by touching her arm.
Her skin flared beneath the sleeve, she flinched and dug her nails into her
palms, drawing blood. The greater her emotional upset, the less control she
had. Quanto pushed her to practice time and time again to avoid such pitfalls,
but she was no great master.

 
    
The older man removed his hand swiftly, his
gaze apologetic. She couldn’t correct the misunderstanding. It was safer for
all of them right now if they didn’t touch her. Not when her stomach churned
around the stones piling up.

 
    
It was hard enough liking the Kanes, even
the Marshal, when there was so much danger she could pour down onto them. She
had to keep herself under control, keep them at arms length and pray that Cody
was as stubborn as she’d always believed.

 
    
They would come for her.

 
    
Hopefully before she hurt anyone.

 
    
“May I be excused?” She was already pushing
back from the table, rising and retreating.

 
    
Sparks hazed along the edges of her vision,
the unbearable heat inside of her desperate for escape. She barely noticed the
three men rushing to their feet or the chair falling over as she circled around
the table and fled the room.