The Lawman's Bride (13 page)

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“My dancing is much improved, thanks to you. He’ll be impressed.”

Sophie gave her a humble nod. She’d been wondering all day if the marshal would show up at the Social Hall like he usually did during the course of a Saturday evening.

Amanda checked her blond curls in the mirror one last time and picked up her white gloves before hurrying out of their room.

Sophie enjoyed the calm and quiet for a few minutes, feeling no need to rush. There were always carriages waiting out front of the Arcade on Saturday evening, and it was easy to catch a ride with a group or a couple.

Amanda had helped her button the lemon-colored cotton lawn dress she’d recently finished, and now she donned her soft kid leather slippers. She arranged her hair with a matching ribbon wound through the curls that hung down her back. Choosing her own clothing and accessories lent a sense of power she’d craved. Anyone else would take it for granted, but she didn’t. She gazed at her white ruffle and lace bodice and satin cuffs in the mirror with pleasure.

It felt good to be Sophie Hollis. It felt good to interact with others and develop friendships. Most of the guilt was stashed away where it couldn’t gnaw at her. She couldn’t let herself think that every relationship she had was based on a lie or she’d loose this euphoric feeling. She was going to see Clay tonight, and tomorrow they were going to go riding.

Satisfied with her appearance, she tugged on her satin-trimmed gloves and floated down the stairs. Louis had brought a buggy for Rosie. He cast Sophie a hesitant smile, and she nodded her approval. He grinned and offered her and Olivia a ride.

Charles Barlow greeted Sophie and Olivia as soon as they entered the already noisy building.

“Miss Hollis,” the rancher said, smiling as though delighted to see her. “Will you join me for this dance?”

Not intending coyness, Sophie glanced at Olivia, then back. “Thank you, Mr. Barlow.” She offered him her gloved hand.

“Charlie,” he corrected.

“Charlie.”

“Nice to see you have a Saturday night off,” he said as they waltzed.

“Y-yes.” Only then did Sophie remember telling him she worked most Saturday nights.

“Next time you’re not on the schedule, why don’t you send word so we can attend the opera?”

“I do enjoy the opera.”

A cowboy in a new shirt and dungarees and with his hair and mustache pomaded asked her to dance next. After an hour she was hoping for a chance to sit out a few dances.

She hadn’t seen Clay yet. She’d been watching, subtly, of course. She excused herself from the dance floor and was headed toward the benches when he strolled up beside her in the crowd.

“Ready for some punch?” His voice was like maple frosting on a sponge cake. Deliciously dark and sweet.

“I’m ready.”

“Seems you have a camp of followers.”

“The girls, you mean?”

He laughed, and she liked the low-pitched sound. “The men.”

She glanced around. “Oh? Just a couple.”

“All ready for tomorrow?”

“I have a riding skirt and proper gloves.”

He glanced at the gloves she’d trimmed with satin bias and seed pearls. “I’ll rent a horse for you. The liveryman will choose a well-mannered one.”

“What color?”

“Color.” His gaze rose to her eyes. “The horse?”

She nodded. “I wondered what color you’d get for me.”

Amusement inched up the corners of his mouth. “What color would you like?”

“Does the liveryman own a paint?”

“I’ll check.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She looked up into his intense blue eyes. Catering to her whim gave him pleasure? “Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Sophie! There you are! I’ve been searching all over for you.” Out of breath, Amanda touched Sophie’s arm. “Here’s the person I wanted you to meet.”

Sophie turned, only to find herself looking directly into Tek Garrett’s cleanly shaven face, his expression one of barely constrained glee.

Chapter Ten

H
er head swam.

“Sophie, this is Monte Morgan. Monte, this is my friend, Sophie.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, gallantly bending at the waist in greeting.

She girded her composure. “And I of you.”

“Monte, this is Marshal Connor. Marshal, Mr. Morgan.”

The two men sized each other up. Neither extended a hand.

Finally Clay reached out. “Morgan.”

Garrett grasped his hand. “Marshal.”

Sophie’s head spun with the shock of seeing Garrett in a place she’d felt safe. Seeing him shake hands with the marshal. He was Amanda’s newfound beau!

Seething anger rose up and heated her face. Her heart was racing. She resisted clenching her fists. She was a professional at creating an image, and the image she was portraying was one of cool calmness and mild interest. It wouldn’t do to panic. Fear was an inhibitor, not a facilitator.

She looked at Amanda, flushed with the dew of infatuation, gazing up at Tek Garrett as though her knight in shining armor had galloped in on a white steed. Sophie wanted to yank Amanda away from him and take her far from this place and far from the man who had only evil in his heart and manipulation on his mind.

He knew exactly what to say and do to make Amanda think she wanted him, needed him. He could make her believe she couldn’t live without him. Amanda wanted to be loved so badly she was an easy acquisition. She was too sweet and too vulnerable, a pliable and needy soul Garrett could use to his own advantage for as long as it suited him.

A feeling of guilt nagged at her conscience. Was she doing the same thing to Clay?

“Amanda is so light on her feet,” Garrett said to Sophie. His hand at the small of Amanda’s back made Sophie’s skin crawl. She wanted to crush his heart. “I could dance with her all night.”

Amanda beamed.

“Join me for another dance,” he urged.

They swept back onto the dance floor.

The gall of the man! He knew Sophie wouldn’t run away and leave Amanda in his clutches. He also knew Sophie wouldn’t tell Amanda who he was. He would use any means possible, including Amanda, his new trump card, to coerce Sophie into turning over the money he still believed was in her possession. He obviously wouldn’t believe she no longer had it.

“I’ll bring punch if you want to sit a spell,” Clay said from beside her.

Feeling unsteady, she took a seat along the benches.

Moments later he returned with two cups and sat beside her.

Thanking him, she accepted hers and sipped the cool, sweet liquid.

The fiddle player presented a solo in the middle of the song, and the sound of people’s feet on the wood floor was loud.

Sophie strained to spot Amanda and Garrett. She found them and kept her attention riveted. His heart was as black as she remembered. She wanted to cut it out.

“Somethin’ botherin’ you, Sophie?”

Realizing her intent stare might be too revealing, she glanced at Clay. A frown creased his forehead as he turned to watch the crowd. Sophie paid attention and recognized he was watching the same couple. “No. Anything bothering you?”

“Just a feelin’ I get about that fella. I’ve been watchin’ him since he got to town.”

A dismayed shiver crept down her spine.
Since he got to town?

Her stomach dipped with nervous dread. Clay’s perceptions were accurate. What if he’d gotten close to
her
because he perceived something artificial in her?

She was getting crazy now, she assured herself. There wasn’t a deceptive bone in the man’s body. If he suspected her he’d be forthright about it. He hadn’t bothered pretending to be cordial to Garrett, after all. She focused her thinking on the new information. “How long has that been?”

“A few weeks.”

Weeks! Garrett had been biding his time before revealing himself. Smart. A good con man always took stock of his mark. “What kind of feeling do you have?”

Clay pursed his lips a moment before answering. “Just a gut reaction to the man. Can’t explain it. I’m usually not wrong.”

Sophie’s scalp tingled with anxiety. “A feeling like what?”

“Like I should keep an eye on ’im. Like I should check all the papers for his picture…and if I had any papers left I would.”

The good news and the bad news. “They all burned?”

“Yup. Sent telegrams to other counties and nearby states askin’if they’d had dealin’s with anyone meetin’ his description.”

A little quake of alarm rolled up Sophie’s spine.

“Nothing has turned up,” he added.

Relieved, she turned to study the crowd again. “He’s too old for Amanda.”

Clay raised a brow.

“Well. He is.”

“Plenty o’ Harvey Girls have married widowed ranchers. Man’s not over the hill till he has a long white beard.”

“You’re defending him.”

“I’m stickin’ up for mankind.”

She should have been able to laugh, but nothing about Garrett was funny. He was dangerous. She knew it, and she’d done her best to avoid him. But Amanda didn’t have an inkling that she was playing with fire. If something didn’t happen to save her, she’d be caught up in Garrett’s blaze of deception. She was being set up because of Sophie. Because Sophie’d led him here. Because Sophie had handed him the perfect tool to use against her.

“I’m not feeling well,” she told Clay. “I need to step outside for a moment.”

“I’ll come with you.” He set their cups aside before leading her to the side door.

Clay led her away from the cacophony of talk, laughter and instruments. As the door closed behind them, the sound was muted. Sophie walked a few feet away from the building.

Clay followed. “You gonna be all right? I could take you home.”

“No. No, I want to stay. I can’t leave Amanda.”

“Okay.”

She touched her fingers to her temple. “It’s probably just the heat.”

Clay stepped close and brushed her hand aside to gently massage her temples with his fingertips. She let her eyes drift shut and sighed, and the sound shot straight to his loins. Sophie’s scent and nearness drove him mad. He’d begun spending too many of his minutes away from her thinking on the meager minutes they were together. “You can’t feel poorly. We have plans for tomorrow.”

“I am looking forward to riding,” she said.

“Hall’s a mite crowded and stuffy tonight.”

“Yes.” She rested her hand on his shirtfront as comfortable as you please, and her touch was gratifying.

“Worried about your friend?” he asked, and let his hands drop to her shoulders.

She nodded. She could tell him right now. Just blurt out the truth and be done with it. He’d arrest Garrett and Amanda would be safe. He would arrest her, too, though. And he’d lose respect for her—a respect she didn’t deserve anyway—and he’d never look at her with admiration or longing again. She’d spend the rest of her life in jail sorting regrets.

“I could take a ride to Florence,” he said. “Look through their papers. I’ve been thinkin’ on it anyway.”

The thought panicked her. “There’s no crime to being older than her now, is there?” she asked. “I’m just being a worrywart.”

“Thinkin’ of those selfish men again,” he teased.

“And you always know what I’m thinking. You have anything lurking in
your
past?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“Like an extra ten years?”

“Very funny.”

“I told you all about me. Not much else to know.”

“You’re an open book, are you?”

“Would I be more appealin’ if I had secrets?”

She didn’t answer. Everyone had secrets.

“That must be a yes.”

“It’s a definite no. I’m just being ladylike and not saying what I really think.”

“Sparin’ my feelings?”

“Your ego.”

He chuckled, then thought a minute. “Never laughed much before I knew you.”

Clay wanted to wrap her in his arms and not let go. He liked the way she felt against him, loved her lilac scent and her soft skin. Kissing her was a pleasure he could get used to. Having feelings for her wasn’t something he’d anticipated, but the feelings, and the desire, were there all the same. Now that he’d admitted to himself that he wanted her, he had to know how she felt about him.

She returned his kisses with tender passion. Sometimes she looked at him in such a way that made his stomach weak. In the park she’d seemed to be fulfilling a desire by initiating their kisses. He’d be glad to fulfill her desires any old time. He wouldn’t fool himself by denying he was falling fast and hard for this woman who was still such a riddle.

“Never known anyone like you, Sophie. You seem wise, yet you’re young and unsure ’bout a lot of things. Other things you have your mind made right up.”

“Are you going to kiss me or talk me to death? I have a curfew, you know.”

Her question prompted another laugh. He could definitely get used to this women askin’ for his kisses.

He pulled her close, and if her sighs were any indication, both their desires were fulfilled with an eager melding of their lips. Sophie clutched the fabric of his shirt and held him close.

A loud gunshot startled them both. He released her, immediately pushed her behind him and drew his .45.

Shouts and the sound of a scuffle came from the front of the building. “Stay here!”

He dashed toward the noise. Two men were grappling in the street, their hands on each other’s throats. Clay ran closer and spotted a gun several feet away both men were trying to reach. He grabbed the pistol and fired his .45 into the air.

Behind Clay the door to the Social Hall had opened and people were spilling out to see what was going on.

“On your feet, both of you,” he ordered.

One of the young men took a last swing at the other, scrambling to stand as Clay jerked him back by the collar. “What the hell’s going on here?”

“Son of a bitch not only wore my shirt, he danced with my girl.”

Clay recognized them as hands from a nearby ranch. James Duffy wiped blood from his mouth with his sleeve.

“Which one of you fired the gun?”

“That was Lumpy. Damned fool. He coulda shot my foot off,” James said.