Maureen McKade (10 page)

As if sensing his gaze upon her, Kit awakened. He
studied her sleep-tousled expression and smiled affectionately. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” she said quietly. “I see you survived.”

“Barely.” He rubbed his brow. “I’m getting too damn old for this.”

A hint of a smile graced her face. “I hope that means you’re swearing off liquor.”

“I’d swear to anything right now if it meant my head would stop feeling like a stomping ground for a herd of buffalo.”

Disappointment sent her smile scurrying away.

“Don’t worry,” Jake went on. “I don’t plan on repeating that episode.”

Kit appeared relieved. “Good. You need to get on with your life, Jake. Get your law practice going. And if you have some spare time, Johnny would like to have you continue his riding lessons.” She paused. “He likes you a lot, Jake.”

“I never had much use for kids before. I used to think they should be locked away until they were grown up.” His smile faded. “But I like Johnny, and I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Gratitude glowed in Kit’s eyes. “You won’t. I’ll get you something to eat. You’re going to need some strong coffee, too.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Kit. Why don’t you go on home?”

“Because you were there when I needed you. The least I can do is be here for you.”

He studied her a moment, noting the gentle tilt of her chin, the upswept brows, and the compassion brimming in her eyes behind the round lenses.

His groin tightened with awakening desire. What he wanted was her, but he couldn’t speak the words aloud. Not after what she’d done for him. He couldn’t make
love to her, then forget about her as he’d done with all the other women in his checkered past. Or worse, use her and then take away her beloved ranch. Even he wasn’t that lowdown.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I plan on staying until you’re up on your own two feet.”

If he’d had any morals, he’d have told her to run as far away from him as she could. But her concern for his welfare was as intoxicating as a bottle of twenty-year-old scotch whiskey. He’d never had anybody worry about him before.

“Are you up to eating in the dining room, or should I bring you a tray?” she asked.

“I can eat at the table, but I need a bath first.”

She wrinkled her nose impishly. “Good idea. I’ll see what I can do.”

Kit strode out the door.

An hour later, Jake entered the kitchen. The smell of fried ham and baking bread plunged his stomach into a rapid descent. He choked back the nausea and took the coffee cup Kit offered him.

His square-tipped fingers brushed Kit’s hand, and she fought the urge to prolong the contact. Noticing his clean-shaven jaw, she caught a whiff of soap. His damp hair glistened like a blackbird’s wing, and the dark strands were tamed back from his forehead.

He actually resembled the hero she’d written about for the past five years.

Fastidious to a fault, Jake Cordell adjusted his four-in-hand and tugged his vest down. The black broadcloth jacket fit his expansive shoulders like a leather glove, snug but flexible across his muscles. His trousers, pleated to perfection, covered his long sturdy legs, and his knee-length ebony boots had been polished until he
could see himself in them. He’d even cleaned his Colt and oiled his holster
.

Surveying his handsome image in the mirror, he added the crowning touch with his freshly brushed black Stetson
.

“Good morning.”

At Freda’s words, Jake started and turned to see the no-nonsense German woman enter the kitchen with her usual briskness. Kit watched him focus his bleary eyes on his landlady. “Morning, Freda.”

“Good to see you are sober this morning,” she stated.

“And that’s about all I am,” he retorted.

Kit crossed her arms, leaning a hip against the counter. “Don’t let him fool you, Freda. He’s doing much better. Or he will be, as soon as he eats.”

Jake grimaced but didn’t comment as Kit filled a plate with the hash browns, ham, and eggs she’d made. Freda set a pile of bread on the table, along with a bowl of cinnamon apple butter.

Jake picked at his food, chewing only small bits at time. After a couple of minutes, however, he began to eat with more enthusiasm.

Relieved, Kit joined him at the small table.

“No wonder Johnny says you’re the best cook in Wyoming,” Jake commented, as he rewarded her with a smile and wink. He glanced at Freda, who was rolling out pie crusts. “Make that one of the two best cooks in Wyoming.”

“Will you be havin’ any coffee for a poor policeman?” Patrick asked, as he entered the back door.

Freda wiped her hands on her apron. “Men. Always they bother you at the worst time.”

Patrick wrapped his arms around her small waist and nuzzled her neck. “Now, is that any way to be greetin’ your favorite admirer?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” The twinkle in her hazel eyes belied her brusque tone.

Patrick sank into a chair and took a sip from the cup of coffee Freda poured for him. He sighed blissfully. “I can always count on you to be makin’ the best coffee in all of Chester County.” He glanced at Jake. “I was beginnin’ to wonder if you’d ever join the livin’ again.”

Jake ducked his head self-consciously. “I wondered myself.”

“So what were you thinkin’?”

He kept his gaze aimed at the tablecloth. “I’m not so sure practicing law is what I want to do the rest of my life, but bounty hunting is a thing of the past.” He shrugged. “I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “Now, isn’t that too bad? Excuse me if I’ll not be extendin’ my sympathies to you, Cordell.”

Kit swiveled her shocked attention to the Irishman. “You can’t blame him, Patrick.”

“Then who am I to be blamin’, lass? Maggie, for up and dyin’ on him? Or maybe Frank Ross, for lettin’ himself get caught? Or maybe even you, lass, for buyin’ his pa’s place instead of lettin’ it go to ruin?”

“That’s enough, Sergeant.” Anger threaded through Jake’s low words.

“I’m not done yet. You want all of us to be feelin’ sorry for poor Jake Cordell because things didn’t go as he planned? Well, Mr. Cordell, maybe your da didn’t spend enough time with you when you were a lad, but at least you had enough to fill your belly.”

“I said knock it off, O’Hara!”

Kit saw in Jake’s eyes a spark she hadn’t seen since he’d returned home. His whole body seemed to grow, his shoulders became straighter, his chin was held higher. Damn, Patrick knew exactly what he was doing!

“Who’s goin’ to make me? The great Jake Cordell?
He can’t even see straight, not after takin’ the coward’s way out in a whiskey bottle.” Patrick offered the final taunt.

Jake exploded out of his chair and grabbed the lapels of Patrick’s jacket, hauling the beefy Irishman out of his seat. “Nobody calls me a coward.”

The two men stared at one another for a long moment, neither giving an inch.

“Now
there’s
the Jake Cordell from the books,” Patrick said, a twinkle in his green eyes.

Confusion edged Jake’s features. He glanced at Kit and she sent him a slight smile. After a few moments, Jake relaxed his hold on Patrick and offered the police officer his hand. “Thanks, Patrick. I guess I needed that.”

The two men shook on it.

“That you did,” Freda stated. “No good comes from wallowing in self-pity, my mother used to say.”

Kit stood and gathered the dirty plates. “If you two are finally done with the manly posturing—”

“Now, that’s not the way for a decent lass to be talkin’,” Patrick said with a red face.

Kit laughed and shared a knowing look with Freda. “Sorry, Patrick. Now that you two gentleman have come to an understanding, would either of you like more coffee?”

They shook their heads.

“Jake, I’ll be needin’ to talk to you,” Patrick said.

Jake groaned. “I didn’t pay for the whiskey?”

The sergeant pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t be knowin’ about that.”

Kit moved to the sink to wash the breakfast dishes.

“Do you need any help, Kit?” Jake asked.

She turned, surprised, and shook her head. “That’s all right, but thanks for the offer.”

Noting the somber expression on Patrick’s rough-hewn
face, she chilled. What did he need to talk to Jake about? What had happened? Had a gunslinger come into town looking for Jake?

Patrick led the way into the sitting room and Jake followed with a black foreboding that grew with every step. He stopped by the fireplace, one booted foot braced against the hearth. Patrick stood at the other side of the mantel and faced Jake. The sergeant glanced down, tracing a crack in the stonefront hearth with a blunt finger.

“So what’s this news you have to tell me?” Jake asked, impatience and anxiety making his voice curt.

Patrick took a deep breath and raised his grim gaze. “Frank Ross cheated the hangman’s noose.”

Chapter 8

J
ake’s whole body tensed, and his stomach lurched. “What the hell happened? He was supposed to be under guard until his hanging!”

Patrick raked a hand through his thick red hair. “Aye, he was, lad. He killed the poor soul deliverin’ his dinner. But Ross was shot before he even got out of the building.”

Jake scrubbed his jaw. “So he’s dead?”

Patrick nodded. “Aye, but not at the end of a rope.”

“At least he’s dead.” Jake should have been relieved, but all he felt was a pervasive disappointment. He’d made a point to bring Ross in alive to face a trial and be hanged legally. Jonathan Cordell would’ve approved of that.

“Are you all right, lad?”

He nodded in resignation. “Ross got what he deserved.”

A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Kit stuck her head through the doorway.

“I’m going to head back to the ranch now,” she announced.

“Wait, I want to talk to you a minute,” Jake said.

“It’s time I got back to the station.” A grin kicked
up the corners of the Irishman’s lips as he left the room.

Gently, Jake tugged Kit into the parlor, closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Kit asked, her voice thready.

Jake glanced down at the worn rug, wondering how to thank someone for picking him up off the floor. Especially when one of the reasons he’d taken to drinking concerned her. “I’m grateful for all you did for me. I don’t know how long I’d have stayed in that saloon if you hadn’t shown up.”

Kit crossed her arms. “I’m sure Louise would’ve taken care of you.”

For a moment, Jake couldn’t figure out who Kit referred to, then he remembered the blue-eyed prostitute—the one who’d resembled Kit through his whiskey-hazed vision. He lifted his hand and swept a strand of hair behind a dainty ear. “I don’t think so. You were right, you know. It’s time I started looking ahead instead of back.”

“You could have a good life here, Jake,” Kit said, equally as quiet.

He would when he got his father’s ranch back, although that thought now filled him with mixed emotions. “I hope so.”

Kit stepped back. “I’d best get going.” She paused at the door. “Is there anything you want me to tell Johnny?”

“Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow.”

A radiant smile lit her face. “He’ll be thrilled.”

Jake approached her, holding her gaze. He gently placed his hand on her shoulders. Caught like sunlight in a spangled spiderweb, she nearly melted beneath his feathery touch.

“What about you? Will you be happy to see me again?” he asked in a husky voice.

His soft breath cascaded across her lips like an angel’s caress. Instinctively she leaned forward, and the tips of her breasts grazed his hard-muscled chest. A spark with the heat of a wildfire raced through her. He wrapped his strong arms around her, drawing her against him. Kit wanted to curl up inside his embrace and have him build the embers he’d stirred into a consuming blaze.

“Kiss me, Kit,” Jake whispered.

Moaning, she met his lips with a fervor that matched the fire in her blood. The fierceness of their possession eased into a tender exploration as she tasted Jake’s sweetness. Her thoughts spun into a maelstrom of colors, and the tangy scent of Jake wrapped around her like a quilt in winter.

Jake drew away from her slowly. Her mouth burned for more of his tantalizing mastery.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” he said.

His words, like a bucket of cold water, dashed the lingering passion. She drew away from him and hated herself for the tears that threatened.

“You’re welcome.” Before she could humiliate herself, she scurried out of the parlor.

She paused a moment in the hallway to wrap a cool facade around her shattered emotions. Why had she thought the kiss was more than a mere expression of gratitude?

Because I wanted it to mean more
.

For Jake it had been nothing more than a thank you. For her it had been a wondrous discovery. She’d been kissed before, but she’d never experienced such a soul-stirring reaction. Why did it have to be Jake? Why couldn’t she have felt that when David Preston had kissed her?

Because he had bad breath and slobbery lips, she thought peevishly. Shaking her head, Kit retrieved her
coat from the rack by the door. With trembling fingers she buttoned her jacket.

She went to the kitchen to say good-bye to Freda and found her friend selling a few loaves of bread to the mayor. Kit wished she could turn around and leave, but Walters had spotted her.

“Doesn’t Mrs. Walters bake?” Kit asked, deciding it’d be better to get in the first word.

Walters’ florid face flushed a deeper red. “She’s busy with her many women’s groups.”

Kit arched her brows. “Which?”

“None you would be interested in, Miss Thornton.”

She shrugged. “How do you know? I can be very sociable when I want to be.”

Walters tried to draw up his diminutive height, but succeeded only in sticking out his rotund belly even further. “Her organizations wouldn’t approve of your ilk.”

Kit laughed. “I’ve never had my ilk maligned before.”

Walters harrumphed and grabbed his bread loaves, then scuttled away.

“You should not make fun of the mayor,” Freda scolded. “He is an important man.”

Kit tried to appear contrite, but failed. “I’m sorry, Freda, but he makes it so darned easy.”

Freda chuckled. “A scamp you are, Theodora Katherine.”

“I just wanted to thank you for letting me spend the night. I think Jake’ll be all right now.”

Freda tucked a strand of gray-peppered hair into her braided coronet. “ He has feelings for you, Kit.”

She shook her head, her smile disappearing. “It’s not what you think. I’d better get back to the ranch. Thanks again, Freda.”

Kit gave the woman a quick hug, then left. The air was crisp and clear as she walked down the boardwalk.
Engelbertina Wellensiek, the minister’s wife, sent her a disapproving glance and drew her skirts aside so they wouldn’t be contaminated by her. Although she was accustomed to such snubs, Kit hated the woman’s sanctimonious attitude. If the reverend had been as hypocritical as his spouse, Kit would’ve stopped attending services. But the Reverend Wellensiek had a generous nature and had always welcomed Kit in his flock.

She crossed the street to the livery and entered the relative warmth of the barn. The barn smelled of hay, horse, and manure, a familiar odor that acted as a balm for her stormy thoughts.

“Ned, are you in here?”

Silence. Shrugging to herself, she found Cassie’s stall and saddled the appaloosa mare. She spoke soothingly to the animal as she placed the hackamore bridle on her.

“Did you have a nice night?”

Kit jerked, startling Cassie. Turning, she spotted David Preston approaching her. Relieved it wasn’t Will Jameson, she pressed a hand to her chest to still her rapid heartbeat. “You scared me, David.”

“I’m sorry, Kit. When I saw you come into the livery without stopping by, I thought I’d check and see if everything was all right.” The newspaperman’s apologetic smile didn’t seem to touch his eyes.

Suddenly irritated by his overprotectiveness, Kit turned to tighten the saddle’s cinch. “I’m fine.”

David brushed the front of his jacket with a fastidious hand. “How is Jake Cordell?”

She glanced up sharply. “How should I know?”

Disgust twisted David’s thin lips. “It’s common knowledge that you escorted him from the saloon yesterday.” He narrowed his suspicious eyes. “And it’s been speculated that you stayed at Freda Finster’s last night to be with him.”

Kit glared at him. “You sound more like a reporter than a friend.”

He shrugged shoulders encased in an expensive wool suit. “Jake Cordell is a drunken has-been. He can’t give you what I can, Kit.”

She thought of the kiss Jake had given her and knew Preston was wrong. “Look, David, I thought I made my feelings clear. I think of you as a friend, nothing more.”

He took a step toward her, and fear wisped in Kit. She shook the absurd emotion aside. David wouldn’t hurt her.

“And I thought I made my feelings clear,” he began. “I would like you to be my wife, and move into town. Forget your foolish fantasy of being a horse breeder.” Distaste emanated from his tone. “Or of marrying your hero, Jake Cordell. He’ll only disappoint you.”

Kit’s mouth gaped at his bluntness. “I have no plans to marry Jake. And raising horses isn’t a whim I’ll lose interest in—it’s my dream. I’ve told you that.”

David reached out, grabbing Kit’s shoulders. “I can give you respectability and security. It’s more than you’d ever have with him.”

She jerked out of his grasp, shaking her head. “I have all I want. You of all people should know respectability is as fickle as Fanny Walters’ opinions.”

David’s jaw muscle twitched. “She has no say in what I put in the paper.”

Wryness brought a sad smile to Kit. “The mayor does, which means Fanny does.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, David, but I can’t be someone I’m not. When I was a young girl, I tried. I won’t change for you or anyone else.”

“You in here, Miz Thornton?” Ned’s creaky voice called out.

“Over here,” Kit replied. She glanced at David. “Please try to understand.”

His face seemed to be carved of stone, and he studied her with a cold scrutiny that chilled her. Then his expression eased into a smile. “All right, Kit, if that’s what you wish.”

She nodded, relieved. “Thank you.”

David turned away, and passed the livery owner without acknowledging him.

“You need any help there, Miz Thornton?” Ned asked.

“No, thanks. I’ve got Cassie saddled and ready to go,” Kit answered. She led her horse out of the stall, pausing beside the wizened old man. “How’s your rheumatism, Ned?”

He rubbed his back with a knotty hand. “Not so good. This weather ain’t no good for us old-timers.”

“Next time I come to town, I’ll bring some more of Two Ponies’ concoction.”

Ned grimaced. “See if you can have ’im sweeten up the smell a mite. Stuff stinks like a two-week-dead possum.”

“I’ll mention it to him. Did Cassie give you any trouble?”

“Nope, she’s got a real sweet temperament. You ever want to sell her, you let me know.”

The realization that she might have to give up her beloved mare to save the ranch brought a chill to Kit’s heart. She wouldn’t do it unless there was no other way. “Selling Cassie would be like selling part of my family.”

Ned sighed. “Figured as much. You take care, Miz Thornton.”

“You too. Bye.”

She guided her mare out of the barn and mounted. Keeping a firm hand on the reins, she held Cassie to a walk until they reached the outskirts of Chaney. There
she loosened the leather and urged the mare into a ground-eating gallop.

But Cassie couldn’t run fast enough to escape the financial problems that plagued her with increasing intensity. Or the newly discovered feelings Jake had awakened within her.

The following afternoon, Jake dismounted in front of Kit’s porch. Johnny flew out of the house and launched himself at Jake, throwing his arms around his waist.

“Ma said you were coming today, but I wasn’t so sure,” Johnny said.

Jake patted the boy’s back awkwardly. “Didn’t you know, kid? Jake Cordell always keeps his promises.”

He glanced up to see Kit studying him from the top step, her arms folded beneath her breasts. He read her dubious expression as easily as if she’d spoken aloud, and he couldn’t blame her for being skeptical. Without her interference, he would still be guzzling whiskey at the Red Bird.

“Are you all ready for your next riding lesson?” Jake asked.

Johnny’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yep! Ma isn’t nearly as good at teaching me as you are, Mr. Cordell.”

Jake glanced at Kit questioningly.

“A couple days ago Johnny rode Treasure around the corral a few times,” Kit explained.

“Ma wouldn’t let go of the bridle,” Johnny complained. “I’m not a baby anymore. I can ride alone. You’ll let me ride by myself, won’t you, Mr. Cordell?”

“We’ll see how you’re doing,” Jake replied. “Let’s go get started.”

“Be careful,” Kit said.

“Aren’t you coming to watch?”

“I can’t,” she replied.

“Why not?” Johnny demanded.

Kit turned her gaze to her son. “I have work to do.”

“You always have work to do,” he grumbled. “You never have time to do anything with me anymore. You’re always in your office or working with the horses.”

“That’s because there are things that have to be done before—” She broke off, glanced at Jake, and finished lamely. “Before I can relax.”

Jake noticed the dark circles partially hidden by Kit’s wire spectacles. She was probably spending sleepless nights worrying about the loan. Kit wasn’t one to take the easy way out, and she’d fight for the ranch until the end.

“Maybe your ma can stop by the corral after she’s done her chores,” Jake suggested.

Kit cast him a grateful look. “I’ll be down to watch you later, sweetheart.” She drew an imaginary X on her chest. “Cross my heart.”

Johnny nodded, appeased by her promise. He grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him toward the barn. “Are you gonna teach me how to gallop today? I bet it’ll be easy. I seen Ma and Charlie and Ethan ride fast, and it don’t look so hard.”

Jake glanced back at Kit helplessly, and the smile she gave him was one that two people exchanged when they shared a secret. A funny feeling curled in the pit of his stomach. For a moment he felt like they were a family, like he belonged instead of being an outsider.

An hour later, Jake stood in the center of the corral, watching Johnny trot Treasure around the perimeter.

“Okay, go ahead and gallop,” Jake called.

Johnny touched his heels to the horse’s sides, and Treasure slipped into a rocking gait. The boy stayed in the saddle like his backside was glued to the leather. Jake shook his head and smiled. Johnny was a natural
rider, just as he’d been. The only difference was that Jake, having given up on his father, had taught himself.

“All right, you’re doing great, kid. Slow down and bring her over here,” Jake said.