Sterling's Way (Lawmen & Outlaws) (13 page)

“It most certainly does not.” Geraldine pulled a face, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “
Blech!
Half of the men who hoot and holler at me just give me a case of the heebie-jeebies, that’s what they do. Julia knows as well as anyone that just because a feller ogles you, or even sees you as more than a gal on stage in a pretty costume, it doesn’t mean he’s your destiny. Right, Julia?”

“Right. But the men who pay to watch us dance…well, Patrick’s not like any of them.” Kristen heard the catch in her friend’s voice when she said the man’s name, and it pulled at her heartstrings. Somehow Julia had fallen hard, and fast, for the preacher’s grandson.

“Patrick’s just a man,” Kristen said. She didn’t want Julia to get hurt if Patrick didn’t return her feelings, so she wasn’t about to build him up any higher than Julia had already done. “He’s the same as all men are, more or less. My Aunt Irene used to say that men are like gloves and every woman’s hand is built for a certain glove. The hard part is finding a pair to fit every finger on your hand.” She looked down at her own hands. “I know it’s not romantic, and may even be a bit silly, but I loved my aunt and keep the image firmly in my mind. I believe my heart will know when I’ve located the gloves made for my hands… I promise you, Julia, that Patrick Godsend isn’t my pair of gloves. He’s certainly well-made and of superior quality, but he’s not for me.”

“You sure about that?” Julia asked breathlessly. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

Kristen shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you—or to Patrick. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sure that Patrick and I are not hand-and-glove suited for each other. So, he’s a free man, open to any and all women interested in him.”

“Thank goodness!” Julia swept a hand across her brow, wiping away the sheen of perspiration that had gathered on her smooth skin. She smiled so broadly every dazzling white tooth came into view. “I was afraid you took to him as much as he takes to you.” Suddenly her expression turned sober. “Ohh…”

“What’s wrong?” Geraldine was busy embellishing her flower but the sound of the woman’s moan brought her gaze up. “Julia? Are you ill?”

“No, I ain’t—ah, I am not ill. I’m just…well, I just remembered that even though Kristen doesn’t favor Patrick in a romantic way, he still has it in his mind that he cottons to her. And what chance do I have against a mind that’s already made up, especially when the lady in mind is so elegant and I’m so ordinary?” Her lower lip quivered.

Kristen rushed to think of something to soothe Julia’s emotions but Geraldine spoke before anything came to mind.

Geraldine snorted, the. sound cutting the tension. “Aw, honey, don’t give one ounce of concern to a man who says he knows his mind. Take it from me, sister…men know their own minds only when we tell them what they know. Until then, it’s all a muddle for them. Really, I’ve seen it before…a woman holds much more power over a man than even she knows.” She dropped her embroidery onto her lap and wiggled her fingers to work out the stiffness. “And a smart, pretty, cheerful gal like you? Shucks, any man would be lucky to have you tell him his mind. Believe me, Julia—that Patrick will come around to seeing who you are as soon as the stars fall out of his eyes. Then, his eyes, his mind and his heart will belong to you.”

“You really believe that?” Julia asked.

Geraldine nodded. “I do. That is, if the two of you are each other’s destiny. Then, he’s all yours—and, for better or worse, you’re his. That’s the way love works.”

“Amen,” Kristen whispered.

Chapter Fourteen

The sun hung low but Jack wasn’t going to be deterred by the hour. He had a mind to see Kristen, and one way or another he was going to do so. There was still plenty of time for a short walk along the creek, at least an hour or two before dusk crept out of its hiding spot and covered the land.

He strode along the sidewalk. Morning shoppers had given way to early saloon-goers and tired miners, so he dodged dirty men dragging packs instead of young women with babies.

It weighed heavy on his mind that once his business with Brown was done, he would head back to Kansas and leave her here by herself. Oh, sure, she seemed to have made friends with some of the revue girls, the lady who ran the boardinghouse and, of course, the preacher’s grandson but were they enough? A bunch of women and a Bible-carrying drifter—how could they possibly provide the type of protection a woman might need in such a rough environment?

Jack chuckled. He had forgotten that Kristen was no ordinary woman, and seemed perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Why, he had never met a woman with such an independent streak before. It was a quality he had never considered attractive in women but it suited Kristen well.

She hid something. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. But what? What could she keep so close to her heart that she wouldn’t confide in him?

A man. It had to be a man. What else would she try to hide?

The boardinghouse lay just on the other side of the road. He waited while a buckboard passed, then stepped out into the wide street. He had only gotten a foot from the walkway when he heard his name called from behind him.

Had he been a swearing man, he would have sworn. Twice he’d tried to take Kristen walking by the creek, and both times his plan was thwarted—by someone calling him. For a man who was new in town, and knew hardly anyone at all, he sure spent a whole pant load of time answering to folks.

Jack stopped and looked over his shoulder.

Great. Just the person I didn’t want to see.

He stepped back onto the walk and nodded. “Godsend.”

“Sterling.” Patrick tipped his hat.

He shifted the bundle to his left hand and held out his right. Grudgingly Jack shook it, a tense up-and-down snap that lasted scant seconds but it seemed to satisfy Patrick.

“Just the man I hoped to see.” Patrick’s voice was friendly but there was an undercurrent to his words.

Jack couldn’t believe his misfortune. He’d already dealt with Brown this morning. It seemed completely unfair to have to wrangle with Godsend in the same day.

Life isn’t fair.
Granddad had hammered the words into Jack’s head from childhood, and he recalled them now.

He’d always realized that Granddad was right, but he had never liked unfairness in any situation. It seemed to him that if a man did the right thing—or tried his best to do what he knew was proper—then everything else connected with the issue should be fair and equitable. He spent his adult life trying to be just in his personal and business dealings but, as he was reminded yet again, doing the right thing didn’t insure the fairness of a situation—or of life.

There was an expression in Patrick’s eyes…something new that gave the man an exaggerated air of confidence. Jack couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, was different but, as he stared into Patrick’s eyes, he was pretty sure he didn’t care for it.

When he got right down to it, it wasn’t Patrick Godsend, the man, who annoyed Jack. Rather, it was Patrick Godsend, Kristen’s suitor, who rubbed him the wrong way. He had no claim on Kristen, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else to claim her. And this preacher’s grandson? Instinct told him he wasn’t the right man for Kristen—not by any stretch of the imagination.

The surest way to get something out of the way was to tackle it head on, and the faster he and Patrick concluded their little sidewalk meeting the sooner Jack could see Kristen.

He plastered a smile on his face, and asked, “Oh, really? Why is that?”

“I thought we should have a…well, let’s just say I think it’s high time you and I have a little chat.” Patrick motioned to a vacant spot beneath the sundry shop’s awning. It provided just enough shade for the two of them to step into, so they did.

“I don’t know what you and I have to discuss, and I’ll be quite frank…I’ve got a pressing engagement so my time is limited.” Jack forced himself to remain cordial, although the command performance discussion rankled him. Even a polite man has a breaking point, and Patrick was edging dangerously close to pushing Jack to his. “I’ll give you a few minutes, but that’s all I can spare. What’s so all-fired important that you hijack me on a public street?”

A muscle worked in Patrick’s jaw. Jack noticed the man was freshly shaved, and scented with aftershave lotion.

He swept a palm across his own cheek. It, too, had been shaved by the barber earlier in the day but all traces of the lotion the man had slapped onto his cheeks had dissipated hours earlier. The bathing facilities in the back of the stable, where he rented a cot, were rudimentary. Standing beside Patrick he realized just how far down his standards of hygiene had fallen since he’d been in town. He was bathed, and somewhat freshly shaven, but the fastidiousness about his person he took for granted back in Kansas had vanished in the rough-and-tumble reality of life in the western frontier.

It irked him that the other man looked better than he did, and was more presentable. It especially bothered him that Patrick smelled good.

When he didn’t get an immediate response, Jack asked, “Well? You’ve got me here. What do you want to talk about? Make it quick, won’t you? What is it, man?”

“Kristen.”

The word silenced the bustling world around them. Miners’ boot steps scuffling along the walk, donkeys and horses
clip-clopping
on the street and even the sound of raucous laughter coming from the saloon doorway dropped away.

Her name, spoken in the other man’s voice, made Jack’s world stand still.

Jack had no trouble finding his footing in business affairs. Never had, and hopefully never would. But the affairs of the heart were an entirely different matter. Not only did his feet feel like the world beneath them was as uncertain and slippery as a half-frozen stream, the legs attached to them felt nothing like the sturdy tree trunks he’d grown up on.

A good bluff worked well in certain situations. Jack decided to try one now.

“Kristen? I hardly think there’s anything to discuss on that front.”

Patrick eyed him suspiciously. “Are you saying you don’t have any interest in Miss Marsh? Is that it?”

Jack shrugged. “I’m not saying anything one way or the other about her, my man. All I’m saying is that you and I don’t have anything to discuss where she’s concerned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got business to attend to.”

The hand on his forearm surprised him. Not only had the other man reached for him with lightning-fast speed, his grip was tight and firm. Jack looked down at the hand, saw the way its veins stood out clearly and wondered where a preacher’s kin could have learned to be this assertive—or move so quickly.

He looked up. Their gazes locked. They stayed that way for several heartbeats, neither one willing to blink or break contact.

“I suggest you remove your hand, Godsend. Now.”

The hand fell away. “We need to talk, Sterling. Now.”

The man’s gutsiness impressed Jack, even though he didn’t want anything about Godsend to make an impact on him. He would have greatly preferred to walk away, find Kristen and continue his day but that was, obviously, not going to happen until he put this small detour in its place.

Calling on his reserves of patience, Jack leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your granddaddy must have taught you about tolerance. A man only has so much tolerance for anything—or anyone. I’ll be honest, you’re pushing me to the limit, so you’d best say whatever it is you’re all fired-up to say and have done with it.”

Jack saw the man’s Adam apple bob up and down. Then he noticed the lines radiating from the corners of Patrick’s eyes, the straight line his lips formed while he contemplated his words and the serious, almost deadly, stare in his eyes.

It hit Jack all at once. Patrick Godsend wasn’t merely infatuated with Kristen—he loved her.

He would have lost the contents of his stomach had he been another, less proud and self-controlled, man. He swallowed harder than Patrick had, and tasted the sting of bile on his tongue.

“My granddaddy taught me a lot of things. I’ve heard him preach from the time I was a baby, so I’ve had more than enough lessons about life drilled into my head. Endless lessons on tolerance…faith…the evils of sin and the rewards of righteous behavior…” He stared into Jack’s eyes and finished, “…and love. Granddad taught me about love, and about how to treat a lady.”

Jack hardly knew what to say. The man spoke with his mouth but the words came from his heart.

“It sounds like you’ve been taught all the important things, then.”

“I think so.” Patrick took a deep breath, and then asked, “Do you love her?”

The question was unexpected, but then everything about the meeting was unusual. Jack evaded giving an honest answer by stating the obvious.

“You do. That much is clear.”

Without hesitation, Patrick acknowledged his feelings. “I do.” Some of his vigor ebbed, and his chin dropped slightly. His deflation seemed to make his broad shoulders shrink. He pressed, “But do you? Love her, I mean.”

Jack refused to be cornered, even by someone he was quickly learning to respect. How he did—or did not—feel for any female in town was no one’s business save his own.

“My feelings belong to me until I decide to divulge them.” He smiled, hoping to put an end to the conversation. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

Patrick’s hand shot out again, but Jack was prepared this time. He sidestepped the grasp, shaking his head disbelievingly. “That worked once but I don’t suggest you try it a second time. I might not be as amiable to being held up as I was a minute ago. It would be wise for you to remember that.”

“Point taken. I apologize for my rude behavior. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Patrick let his hand drop to his side. He clutched the small bundle he held so tightly the string holding it closed tore one edge of the brown wrapping paper. It was a small rip but it pulled the paper open wide enough to expose a flash of yellow.

Tearing his gaze from the rent in the bundle, and pulling his mind from thoughts about fripperies designed to woo females, Jack brushed aside the apology. He felt sorry for the other man, and suddenly he wasn’t as anxious to be done with him as he had been only moments earlier.