The Sheriff (Historical Romance) (21 page)

“O
ut of the way, Sacramento Slim,” Sheriff Mc-Cloud ordered the tall, slender man with a slashing zigzag scar across his forehead. “Move it,” he said to Two Fingers Johnson and Rattlesnake Jack.

Travis pushed his way through the whooping crowd and into Tillie’s two-story establishment. In the receiving parlor a couple of furious women were standing toe to toe, gouging and biting and cursing each other.

The pretty young spitfire, Spanish Rose, was viciously pulling Bad Bertha’s long, dyed-red hair. Bad Bertha was squealing like a stuck pig and desperately trying to get to the jewel-handled dagger she kept in the satin garter that encircled her fleshy thigh. Both women were bleeding from scratches to their faces, bosoms and arms.

“Ladies, ladies,” Travis said, and rushed into the fray.

He stepped up behind the red-haired Bad Bertha, wrapped a long arm around her thickening waist and held on for dear life as he reached down and deliberately relieved her of the dagger. He handed the weapon over his shoulder to an anxious Tillie, whose major concern was for the parlor’s fine imported furniture. The fighting women had already smashed a pair of priceless porcelain vases and turned a cherrywood table into a worthless pile of splinters.

Bad Bertha, the angered redhead, shoved a sharp elbow into Travis’s chest and tried to shake him off. He hung on, despite the pain. Spanish Rose pressed her advantage, yanking her opponent’s hair forcefully and pulling her down. Bad Bertha slammed against the square-carved piano, her shoulder striking the ivory keys, her knees hitting the carpet. She dragged Travis down with her and then fell over backward atop him.

Summoning all his strength, Travis squirmed out from under her and went after Spanish Rose. Rose spat and cursed and threatened to kill him. Travis yanked her up, tossed her, kicking and screaming, over his shoulder, and almost made it out of the room.

But not quite.

Bad Bertha quickly recovered, charged and knocked both Travis and Rose to the floor in the arched doorway leading into the corridor. Bertha
screamed like a panther and jumped right on top of the downed pair. Most of the crowd outside had shoved their way in, determined not to miss the fun. Cheers and whistles and applause reigned and bets were taken on who the winner of the three-way brawl would be.

Travis McCloud was the heavy favorite, though clearly he was currently at a disadvantage.

The sheriff was outnumbered, and once the two women declared a truce, they turned their wrath on him. And, while they could and did kick and bite and scratch and try their best to hurt him, Travis had never, would never, hit a woman. Nor harm one in any way. His role was that of peacemaker—to subdue the combatants and quell the disturbance.

That’s just what he did.

After fifteen minutes that seemed like an hour to him, Travis came out the victor. But not before he’d suffered a bitten ear, kneed groin, scratched cheek, torn shirt and bruised chest.

Struggling to catch his breath, he lay flat on his back on the floor. On either side of him, a restraining arm clamped firmly over her waist, lay a weak, winded woman. Spanish Rose had a bloody nose, plus her red-satin dress was torn, her fishnet stockings in ruins. And Bad Bertha had a black, swollen eye, scrapes and contusions, and badly tangled hair.

Travis turned his head, looked at one, then the
other. Both smiled sheepishly at him. Then they giggled. In seconds everyone, including the town sheriff, was laughing, and the relieved Tillie shouted to be heard, saying, “Champagne on the house for everyone!”

Winn DeLaney couldn’t believe his eyes.

He had been wrong when he’d assumed Kate’s visitor was the widow Hester. It was Valentina Knight who walked out of the jail. He wouldn’t have thought the two would have known each other.

Miss Knight was leaving now and the sheriff was still absent from the jail. Winn knew this was his opportunity to see Kate. He brushed imaginary lint from his lapels, smoothed his hair back off his temples and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He cautiously looked three blocks down the street to Tillie’s Pleasure Palace. The crowd was still packed in there. He could safely assume that the sheriff was, too.

Winn smiled, pleased, and started to step down into the street. He stopped abruptly and cursed. Another woman was entering the city jail. This time it was Alice Hester. Winn shook his head. For God sake, who else would be running in and out of there? How could Kate be expected to recuperate if she was never allowed to get any rest?

Exhaling with growing frustration, he turned and went back inside the Bonanza Hotel.

“Thank you so much, Sheriff McCloud,” said the grateful Tillie, nodding and setting the feather in her upswept hair to dancing.

“Don’t mention it,” Travis said, taking the perfumed handkerchief she offered and blotting the blood away from his scratched cheek.

“You don’t mean to take Bertha and Rose in, do you, Marshal? It surely won’t be necessary to toss them in jail, will it?” asked Tillie, concerned that their absence would hurt business.

“No, but I’m holding you responsible for them, Tillie,” Travis warned.

“Bless you, Sheriff. I’ll see to it they cause no more trouble.”

“You better. If I have come back down here…”

“You won’t,” Tillie assured him. “Tell him, girls,” she prompted them.

“We’ll behave, Sheriff,” said Spanish Rose.

“If I hurt you, Marshal, I apologize,” offered Bad Bertha.

“I’m fine, but if you two keep fighting, somebody’s really going to get hurt.”

“It won’t happen again,” Tillie said, and rushed him out the door.

Winn watched and waited.

He was overjoyed when Alice Hester stayed inside the jail for less than five minutes. Apparently, she
needed to get back to the bakery, and had only come over to bring Kate something to eat.

Winn waited until the widow was back inside her shop. Then he exited the hotel, looked up the street and down. He saw nobody who might conceivably be going to visit Kate. No doubt the little Chinaman was at the mine.

Winn crossed the street, rehearsing what he would say to Kate. He would tell her how he’d been worried sick about her and how the tyrannical sheriff had refused to let him in to visit. By the time he reached the sidewalk outside the jail, Winn had a touching speech all thought out and ready to deliver in his most sincere tone of voice.

He stepped into the door of the jail and frowned when he saw, seated behind the sheriff’s desk, a skinny, toothless old man.

“Don’t get up,” Winn said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m just going in to visit Miss VanNam.”

Already on his feet, H.Q. said, “Sorry, you can’t go back there, mister.”

Winn said, “Perhaps you don’t know who I am. I’m Winn DeLaney and I’m engaged to Miss Van-Nam. She’s my fiancée.”

“That may be, Mr. DeLaney, but the sheriff deputized me and left me in charge,” said H.Q. He reached for the Navy Colt that lay on the desk. “I have my orders. You’re not to go back there.”

“Is that a fact?” Winn said sarcastically.

“’Fraid so, sir.”

Winn grinned. “And just who’s going to stop me?”

“I am,” H.Q. said calmly, raising the gun and aiming it squarely at Winn’s chest.

“Jesus, put that thing away before you hurt somebody,” Winn cautioned, but he continued to advance.

H.Q. came out from behind the desk. “Take another step and I’ll fire.”

Winn stopped abruptly. He frowned nervously. “Are you daft, old man? The sheriff never meant for you to—”

“Yes, I did,” came a low, modulated voice from just behind him. Winn spun about to see Travis standing in the doorway, his hair disheveled, face scratched and shirt torn. Travis said, “My deputy has asked you to leave. Were I you, I’d go.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Flushing with anger, Winn said, “Overstepping your bounds a bit, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. You know you are.”

“What are you going to do about it, DeLaney?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do about it, Mc-Cloud. You were hired by the Committee of Vigilance to keep the peace in Fortune, not to harass its citizens. I believe the committee should hear about this outrage.”

“Why don’t you tell ’em?” Travis said with a grin.

T
ravis, what on earth happened to you?” Kate asked, worriedly eyeing his torn shirt and scratched face.

“Just the usual. A couple of ladies fighting over me,” he said with a straight face, and came to the bed unbuttoning his ruined shirt. “I’m used to it,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

“But you’re really hurt,” Kate said when he took off his shirt and she saw his bruised ribs.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, baby,” he said, before he leaned down and kissed her.

Kate didn’t believe him. She got out of bed and followed when he went to the stove to put on a kettle of water. “Sit down and let me do that,” she ordered. “It’s my turn to care for you.”

“With pleasure,” Travis said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. While the water heated, Kate carefully
examined his scratched face, bloodied ear and bruised ribs. She got out a couple of clean cloths, laid them on the table, and once the water had heated, poured some into a pan.

She gently bathed Travis’s scratched face, red ear and bruised ribs. Standing between his spread knees, she asked, “Should I bandage the ribs?”

“No. Not necessary. I’m used to getting a few scrapes and sprains. This stuff is minor.”

“Nevertheless…” Kate dropped the cloth into the pan of water and sank to her knees before him. She leaned close and began brushing the lightest of kisses to his ribs. With her soft lips against his flesh, she said, “Now, tell me exactly what happened. Leave nothing out.”

Cupping her golden head, Travis laughed and recounted the drama that had taken place down at Tillie’s. Kate’s head came up. “Females actually did this to you?”

“They did,” he said. “And it’s not the first time.”

“But how can you defend yourself against a woman?”

“Not very well.” Travis grinned. “You should know that better than anybody. I have no defense against you.” He kissed her and said, “Anything you want from me, you know I’ll give to you. Anything you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

Kate pulled back a little. “You mean it?”

“Try me.”

“Well, there is something,” she said, clasping his wrists in her hands. “I’m awfully tired of lying in bed.”

“So, get up if you feel like it.”

“Well, that’s just it. If I’m to get out of bed, I need clothes and things.” She released his wrists and draped her forearms over his knees. “I was hoping maybe we could go up to the mansion this afternoon and I could pick up a few things.”

“Tell me what you need and I’ll go up and—”

“No, I want to go myself. You wouldn’t know what to get.”

“Why not wait a couple more days?”

“But I feel fine, Travis. Really I do, and if I could put on some clothes, I’d feel even better. Please, it wouldn’t take long, we could just walk up there and stay a few minutes while I gather up some clothes.” She looked into his dark expressive eyes and knew he was weakening. “Wouldn’t you like to see me in a dress, with my hair washed and brushed?”

“You couldn’t be any prettier than you are right now.”

“It means a lot to me, Travis.”

He shrugged his bare shoulders. “As I said, I have no defense against you. If it’ll make you happy, we’ll go. But only for a few minutes. And we’re not walking.”

“We’re not?” she said, and shot to her feet.

“No. I’ll bring my stallion around to the back door
and we’ll ride up.” He clasped her narrow waist and added, “But we can’t be gone long.”

“Twenty minutes at the outside,” she said, and automatically went to change clothes. Then quickly realized she had no clothes to change into. She grabbed at her nightshirt and said, “What will I wear? I can’t go out like this!”

“See the heavy greatcoat hanging on the coat tree?” he asked, rising to his feet. “Wear that over your nightshirt. And put on those rubber boots you were wearing when Chang Li brought you here.”

Kate was as excited as a child when, minutes after leaving, Travis knocked on the back door. Swirling the greatcoat around her shoulders, she opened the door and stepped out into the bright alpine sunshine.

Directly behind Travis stood a saddled Appaloosa stallion, its reins dangling to the ground. Travis plucked her from the stoop and lifted her up to sit across the saddle. He picked up the reins, looped them over the stallion’s neck and swung up behind her, enclosing her in his arms.

They skirted the backs of the buildings and soon left the town of Fortune, unobserved. In minutes they were at the mansion. Once they’d dismounted, Travis again tossed the reins to the ground.

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll wander off?” Kate asked as Travis helped her in the front gate.

“No. I trained him myself,” he said. “He won’t leave without us. He knows better.”

On the front veranda, Kate handed Travis the key he had given to her when she’d first moved in last summer. He put it in the lock, turned the knob and opened the door. He didn’t return the key to Kate, but put it in his breast pocket.

The big house was chilly, and Travis was immediately sorry he’d allowed Kate to come. The last thing she needed was to catch a cold.

“Wait,” he said, when she started to go into one of the rooms to start collecting her things. “Let me build a fire. Sit down there on the sofa and wait until it warms up a little.”

Kate was agreeable. She kept on the heavy coat, and sat down while Travis tossed a couple of logs into the fireplace. In no time he had a healthy blaze going, and the big room began to lose its chill.

Soon Kate threw off the coat and went about gathering up needed articles. Travis offered to help, but she declined. He sat on sofa and watched as she came in and out of the room, placing items of clothing and sundries in a stack near the arched doorway. She was totally preoccupied with her task. And Travis was totally preoccupied with her.

Even in the nightshirt and tall rubber boots, she was without doubt the most irresistible female he had ever known. She was a tempting seductress. She was thoughtful and kind. She was playful and tormenting.
She was innocence and purity. She was cunning and wanton. She was all these things.

And she was his.

The room was now warm.

So was he.

Travis rose.

He went directly to the painting of Arielle Van-Nam Colfax, carefully lifting the picture and turning it to face the wall. He returned to the sofa, which he moved at an angle so that it faced the fireplace.

He adjusted the tall mirror that leaned against the wall beside the fire. Then he picked up his greatcoat from the back of the sofa and carefully spread it out in front of the flames.

Travis straightened and ran a hand through his hair. He went out into the corridor and locked the front door. He came back into the drawing room and called out, “Kate, can you come in here a minute, sweetheart?”