The Devil's Own Desperado (12 page)

“I just didn’t know if you wanted the cows put out or not.” He paused, sparing a black glare for Captain. “If that damned rooster attacks me again though, I’m going to put a bullet into his head and we can have him for supper, stuffed with dressing and served with gravy.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. “You wouldn’t dare shoot Captain.”

“The hell I won’t. He’s got spurs he knows how to use damn well, and he about broke my legs beating me with his wings.” Colt paused. His brows lowered, then rose, and he cocked his head at her. “You named a chicken?”

“I raised him from a chick.” Amelia scooped Captain into her arms, and cradled him protectively. In all his life, Captain had never raked her with his spurs and he had never once beaten on her with his powerful wings. “Daddy found him out in a snow bank three winters ago. He was almost frozen solid.”

“You named a chicken?” he repeated. Amused disbelief shaded his voice. A smile toyed with one corner of his mouth.

“Yes. Unlike you, I give the animals names.”

His smile died and the amused glint vanished from the depths of his eyes. “You’d stop getting attached to them and giving them names if you had to shoot your own dog.” Colt spun on his heel and left the barn.

Amelia dropped Captain, ignoring his angry cackle, and raced after Colt. She caught him at the door of the cabin. “Why did you have to shoot your own dog?”

He glanced at her, his face frozen into an angry mask. “She had been out hunting rabbits during the night and the coyotes got a hold of her. She crawled in and my stepfather made me shoot her and put her out of her misery. I was ten at the time. He wouldn’t do it, said I had to. I was crying so much I couldn’t see to do it and it took three bullets. He then told me that a man doesn’t cry and if I really cared about that dog, I would have been able to kill her with one clean shot.”

“Colt, I’m so sorry.” She stroked his arm. “I can’t imagine what your childhood was like.”

“You don’t want to imagine it.” He pulled away from her and thrust his hand into the pocket of his trousers. “I’m going to send Saul into town for some supplies. I have got to have some coffee, or I’m going to consider brewing up the roots of those chicory plants you’ve got growing in the garden. And you need something to reinforce the chinking in places. I could hear the wind whistling through the cracks.”

Amelia shook her head. “I haven’t had any additional butter I can take into town to trade with Thom Burlington at the mercantile. I don’t have any money either.”

“I’ve got money, Amy. There’s a small leather pouch in my saddlebags with about two hundred dollars in it.”

“Colt, I can’t accept your money. How will I ever repay you?”

“Repay me? Who nursed me? Who’s been feeding me and keeping a roof over my head? Way I see it, I owe you.” Colt dragged his hand through his hair, and stared off into the misting rain. “May as well put some of that money to some sort of good use. I think I’ll go with Saul into town. He can drive a wagon for something other than to take Jenny to church, can’t he?”

Amelia stood on the porch for a long time after Colt and Saul drove away, twisting around the enigma of Colt Evans.

****

Colt followed Saul into Burlington’s General Store and Mercantile. He was acutely aware of the sudden silence inside the warm, fragrant building. The rich aroma of leather, liniment, and spices overwhelmed him. It had been ages since he had been in a general store.

He maneuvered around barrels of staple goods, gardening implements, and tables stacked with bolts of fabric. Large, clear glass jars filled with penny candy lined the shelves of a glass-fronted counter.

Several people stepped out of his way, backing away without meeting his gaze. Without his revolver on his hip, Colt felt undressed and vulnerable. He debated with himself now the intelligence of going into town without his revolver. However, he had promised Amy, and he intended to keep that promise to her. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Saul either.

Someone whispered, “That’s him. That’s Colt Evans.”

Another voice, this one feminine, asked eagerly, “Is that the man Amy has at her house? He’s good-looking, if you don’t mind his reputation.”

Colt slowly turned, and the whispers ceased. A tall, portly man wearing a heavy canvas apron, obviously the shopkeeper, eyed Colt and then wrapped up his conversation with a taller black-headed man. “I’ll get that stuff on out to the Rocking Bar M first thing in the morning, Drake.”

The other man said, “Thanks, Thom.” He caught sight of Colt and Saul. He nodded at Colt, and said, “Hello, Saul. You going to be out looking for a job this fall at roundup time?”

“You bet, Mr. Adams,” Saul said. “Amy said I could ride for your brand.”

“Good. I can always use an extra hand at roundup. I’ll see you out at the Rocking Bar M, then, in about a month.” Adams nodded again to Colt and walked out the door.

The shopkeeper approached Colt. “I’m Thom Burlington. How can I help you?”

Colt glanced around the mercantile, and noted that Saul had gravitated to the back wall and the display of gleaming rifles. “Need a few things, starting with a pound or two of coffee beans.”

Burlington whipped a pad of paper from the depths of the apron’s pockets and pulled the pencil from behind his ear. He licked the end of the pencil nub, and suggested, “Give me your list and we’ll get it filled.”

Several customers shot sullen glares in Colt’s direction. “Don’t you have other folks that were here before me, that need their orders filled first?”

“Yeah, but, I figured…”

“You figured wrong.” Colt searched for Saul. The boy was staring up at one of the rifles on the back wall, his expression full of longing. “I’ll just go keep Saul company and take a look at the rifles while you wait on the folks that were here before me. I’m not in any hurry. Unless you want me out of your store in a rush.”

Burlington shook his head. “No, not at all. Soon as I can, I’ll get to you and Saul there.”

Colt was all too aware of the buzzing whispers. He felt several pairs of eyes boring into his back. Setting his jaw, he joined Saul at the back wall of the general store to inspect the gleaming Winchester rifles lined up like so many tin soldiers.

****

Jenny raced from the door to Amelia, and tugged on her sister’s hand, pulling her across the kitchen.

“Wait a second, Jenny. I have to pull this cake from the oven or it’s going to burn.”

Jenny bounced impatiently. Amelia slid the cake onto the table to let it cool. It seemed to be done. A fork inserted into it came out clean. That was how Momma always checked them. “All right, let’s go see what’s got you all in a dither.”

She pulled the door open. Even in the gray, misting twilight, she could make out the wagon. The horse had already been unhitched and put in the barn where yellow lantern light spilled onto the muddy ground through the open door. The wagon’s bed was lumpy and covered with a heavy tarpaulin. Two milk cows were tied to the back. A yap from the barn brought Amelia’s head up. “What in the world…?”

She took Jenny’s hand and led her to the barn. Saul spun around, a red and white puppy cradled in his arms. Colt pushed his hat back. “Looks like we’ve been caught before we can break it to your sister, Saul.”

Jenny raced to Saul and caressed the puppy’s head. The puppy wiggled and lapped its bright pink tongue on Jenny’s chin and whimpered. A delighted smile wreathed Jenny’s face.

Amelia glanced from Saul, Jenny, and the puppy to Colt. He lifted his shoulders wincing with the motion. “Boy’s gotta have a dog to grow up with,” he said, as if that settled the matter.

“Mr. Burlington was giving them away.” Saul handed the puppy to Jenny. “Don’t hold her too tight,” he cautioned. “He said this one was the runt of the litter and no one was going to take her. She’s a beagle-dog. Colt says they make good rabbit dogs.”

Amelia had to look at the floor to hide her smile. She controlled her features and lifted her gaze to Colt. “Thom Burlington tells everyone that. Every litter is full of runts that he says no one else will take.”

“It’s true, Amy.” Saul stroked the puppy’s domed head and let her floppy ears trail through his fingers. “She was the only one left and he said if no one wanted her, he was going to have to shoot her.”

Saul’s words brought back the memory of Colt’s bruised voice telling her he’d been forced to shoot his own dog. She snapped her gaze back to Colt’s face.

“Boy’s gotta have a dog to grow up with,” he repeated, holding her gaze.

For a long moment, Amelia kept her silence. It was another mouth to feed and things were precarious as it was. Then with a mental shrug of her own, she held her hands out to Jenny. Jenny handed her the wiggling, warm, chubby bundle. Amelia cradled the puppy, and smiled as it snuggled under her chin. “What was her name, Colt?”

“We haven’t named her yet,” Saul said. “Please say we can keep her, Amy. Please. She’s not going to be a big dog so she won’t eat much, and we can teach her to hunt rabbits so she’ll earn her own keep, and I promise I’ll take care of her.”

Amelia, not taking her gaze from Colt’s face, repeated, “What was her name?”

Colt’s expression softened. “Baby…she was the runt too.” His voice had a ragged edge to it.

Amelia slid the puppy’s warm, silken ears through her fingers. “Hello, Baby,” she murmured.

“I can keep her?”

Amelia glanced down into Saul’s eager, hopeful face and nodded. He let out a war whoop and danced around for a moment before he raced to the barn door. “Wait until you see what’s in the wagon, Amy.”

“Saul.” An undertone of warning growled in Colt’s voice.

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “It’s a surprise, for your birthday tomorrow. Well, part of it is, anyway.”

Amelia was startled now. “You remembered my birthday, Saul? How sweet of you.” She set the puppy down. Baby scampered around the barn, her nose to the ground.

“She will make a good rabbit dog,” Saul said. “Look at how she’s sniffing around.”

Baby squatted. Colt’s laughter rang and the horses jerked their heads up in surprise. “I think she was sniffing for another reason than looking for rabbits in the barn.” He dropped his hand onto Saul’s shoulder. “Let’s put the cows up for the night and get the other stuff out of the wagon. Miss Jenny, will you please catch the dog and bring her into the house?”

“A dog in the house?” Amelia tilted her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Dogs should stay outside.”

“She’s too little to stay in the barn by herself for now,” Colt said.

Jenny caught Baby into her arms and marched proudly to the house.

Amelia watched as Saul and Colt worked under the tarp, keeping her birthday surprise a secret. Saul handed two cured hams out and Colt carried them to the smokehouse. Saul carried a bag of coffee into the house. He then ducked back under the tarp and pulled a fifty-pound bag of flour out. He struggled to lift it, and then smiled his thanks up to Colt when the man helped boost it to his young shoulders. Saul toted a hefty bag of cement mix to the barn. “So I can help Colt chink the house for the winter,” he announced, even though he staggered under the weight.

Lastly, Colt hefted a ten-pound bag of sugar and a flour sack of other items and carried them into the house. “Don’t know where you want all this stuff, but Saul and I figured you and Jenny could have fun putting it away.”

She stood in stunned silence as Colt set items on the table. Cork-topped glass bottles of cinnamon, paprika, black pepper, thyme, ginger, and allspice, bottles of vanilla, lemon and almond-oil extracts, hair ribbons, and several bars of french-milled soap. Colt picked up a pair of bright blue ribbons and compared them to Jenny’s dark hair. “That should do nicely,” he said.

Jenny took the ribbon from his fingers and tied them around her braids.

Amelia stared at the bounty on the table. She couldn’t keep track of the cost of everything he had brought into the house, and she had no idea how she was ever going to repay him for his generosity. “Colt, what is all this?”

“You going to tell me you don’t need these things?” Defensiveness shaded his voice and darkened his eyes, as if afraid she would reject all of the items.

He must know she couldn’t. “No, I’m not going to tell you that.”

He pulled a box of bullets from the bag and handed them to Saul. “These are yours.”

“Colt.” Amelia’s heart stuttered and fear snaked through the pit of her stomach.

Saul clutched the box to his chest, his gaze darting from Amelia to Colt.

A gun? In her house? No, she would not stand for that. Not after what those instruments had done to her family, had done to her and Jenny and Saul.

Colt turned to Saul. “Go on out to the wagon and bring the Winchester in. May as well get this over and done with.”

“Colt Evans.” Amelia bit his name out through clenched teeth. “I will not have that thing in my house.”

“For God’s sake, Amy, how can I teach him to hunt if he doesn’t have a rifle?” Colt rubbed the back of his neck, his expression as set as the granite slopes of the mountains towering in the western horizon. “Boy’s gotta have a rifle and a dog if he’s going to hunt rabbits.”

Saul came back in the house, a Winchester rifle in his hands. In the lamplight, the barrel glinted with bluing and the wooden stock gleamed with a rich, burnished glow. How could something so beautiful be such a thing of death? Amelia whirled around.

Jenny stood frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes wide. The color had vanished from her face and her mouth opened and closed as her breath came in terrified pants. Before Amelia could stop her, the girl shoved her way past Saul and ran out into the dark, damp night.

Amelia paused long enough to shoot her words at Colt. “This is why I don’t want any guns in my house.”

“Shit,” Colt breathed. “Stay here, Saul. I’m going to help your sister find Jenny.”

He ran out the door, shouting the girl’s name. After he shouted a second time, he shook his head. The kid wouldn’t talk. How could she answer him?

Amelia emerged from the henhouse. “She isn’t there. I’m going to try the barn.”