“A kiss. I’d like a kiss from you.”
A momentary telling look of discomfort crossed her round face before she replied. “Of course.” She held her arms stiff at her side. Her eyes fluttered shut.
He’d kissed her before, but had purposely kept them chaste. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her with a passion she was unaccustomed to. But now he needed to know something. He bent forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched, but recovered quickly. Her eyes opened and she gave him a wan smile.
Her eyes squeezed shut just as Chance’s mouth grazed hers with the barest of touches, giving her time to adjust to him. He traced the fullness of her taut, dry lips with the tip of his tongue. She shuddered, and he knew instinctively that it came from his touch. He waited for the instant reaction he received when he kissed Mad Maggie—a hot fevered rush that went straight to his groin.
Nothing. He felt nothing. Tame as dishwater, her kiss had no effect on him. An unreasoning irritation drove him on. He deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers, his lips molding the shape of her unyielding mouth.
She moaned, then twisted out of his grasp. An anguished grimace crossed her features. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know, and sent his stomach plummeting to his feet. Was this going to be his life then? Spent with a woman who found his kisses disgusting, his touch repulsive?
Cheeks flaming, she said, “My goodness, Chance. I’m somewhat shocked.”
“By what?”
Obviously flustered, she stammered, “B-by your, well, by your—your ardor.”
“You didn’t enjoy it then?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy it. I was just surprised is all.”
It was a blatant lie, an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry, Fanny.” His voice sounded hoarse, hollow, even to his own ears. The way he felt inside. “I had to know.”
“What?” she asked. She sounded perplexed. She honestly didn’t understand.
“Do you want still want to get married?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course. Don't be silly. You weren’t out of line, just impulsive. It’s understandable.”
“Even knowing you hate my touch, my kiss, you still want to marry me.”
“I said yes, didn’t I?” She shoved the towel and shirt into his midsection. Her gaze darted away from his searching one. Grabbing the hem of her skirt, she sailed down the stairs without a backward glance, her back ramrod straight.
He sighed and hung his head. He stared at the spreading puddle beneath his feet, his hands tucked beneath his armpits. He’d never heard that caustic tone of voice from Fanny before. He didn’t understand what she was thinking. Why did she still want to marry him? She didn’t love him anymore than he loved her.
He wondered now why he believed their partnership would work. He’d thought it out so well. But then he’d never really given the idea of passion within the confines of marriage much consideration.
When you married, you went to bed. When you went to bed, you made love. When you made love, passion arose. Didn’t it? Did loving the person you made love with have something to do with passion? He could see it wouldn’t be that way between Fanny and himself. Not only would it be loveless, their union would be a cold, emotionless affair. Two overly polite people stepping around each other…both figurative and literally.
It would take the high heat of August and a minor miracle to thaw her out. Although she was a fine woman, Fanny Fairfax had no passion for him at all.
His heart heavy, he stepped across the hall into the room that Fanny had indicated. He sank onto a trunk and stripped off his damp shirt. He towel-dried his chest and head, his mind reeling.
He heard Eloise call his name. but ignored it. He knew he should go downstairs, but didn’t have the stomach to face Fanny and her mother again. Coward.
He wondered if the house had a back stairs.
No. By God, he’d made a commitment to Fanny and he would stick to it. She would be the one to break the engagement. He’d face her and make the most of it…and hate himself tomorrow for being a spineless snake.
He pulled on Frank’s crisp white shirt, which was two sizes too small. He rolled up the sleeves, but had little choice with the top buttons. They’d have to remain undone, revealing his chest and damp, gray undershirt. Tucking the tail into his trousers as he descended the stairs, he wondered if Mad Maggie would miss him for supper. He would miss her bright, smiling face, that was for sure.
* * *
Where was Chance?
Trixianna’s supper of ham and beans was cooked and now staying hot in a big cast-iron pot on the back of the stove. The cornbread lay cooling on the sideboard. The apple pie was ready for dessert.
If Chance didn’t come home soon, all her hard work would be wasted. She checked her watch, pinned to her breast, as she had every ten minutes for the past hour. Eight o’clock.
She sighed. In all the time she’d stayed at his home, he’d never promised to be there for supper. He’d always had some excuse or other—he needed to check on a prisoner, or talk to the mayor, or stop a fight. But regardless of his excuses, he’d also been there every single night, smiling, laughing, and complimenting her on her cooking. She could happily spend the rest of her days just watching that man eat.
Trixianna looked at her watch again. Eight-ten. He’d never been this late before. She paced the floor, wringing her apron strings.
What if something happened to him?
What if he had gotten shot by someone with a better aim than hers?
What if…she never saw him again?
She sank into a kitchen chair. Staring out the window into the dark night, she willed her mind away from all the things that could go wrong. As the sheriff, Chance probably faced danger all the time, she reasoned. And nothing had happened to him before she came along.
A knock startled her. She jumped to her feet and rushed to open the door. Swinging it wide, she stared across the threshold at a tall, thin man. Several days’ growth of dark beard shaded his lean face. He stood still, his hat in his hand, his clear eyes direct, yet gentle. He seemed familiar to Trixianna but she didn’t think she recognized his chalk-white face and drawn features.
“Is the sheriff home?” he drawled. He studied her from intense, pale blue eyes that hinted at amusement. He sported a graying, bushy mustache but his hair was as inky black as Chance’s. His muddy clothes and tired demeanor spoke of quite a few miles spent on horseback.
“No, he’s in town,” she replied. Usually wary of strangers, for some unknown reason, Trixianna found herself warming to this man.
“I see,” he said, his lips quirking into a smile. He leaned forward, his hands on his spare hips. “And you are?”
“Trixianna Lawless.”
“Should I know you, ma’am?” he asked, his voice courteous yet obviously curious.
“I can’t think why.”
He chuckled. “Me neither. I’m Rider Magrane, Chance’s little brother.”
“Oh.” Trixianna heaved an extreme sigh of relief. He wasn’t some a criminal out to do Chance harm. She glanced behind him. “Have you a horse?”
He waved a hand down the street. “I stabled him at the livery down the road and walked here.”
She beckoned him into the light-filled room. “I didn’t even know Chance had a brother.”
He followed her, tossing his hat on the wall peg as he passed. He kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. “Thought he crawled out from under a rock, did ya?”
Her cheeks heated. “Well, no, of course not, but he never mentioned he had a brother.”
“I reckon he might not.”
What a strange thing to say! ”Please sit down, Mr. Magrane. I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”
“Call me Rider, ma’am.”
Trixianna nodded. “All right. Would you like coffee while you wait?”
“Coffee sounds good.” He dropped int
o a chair, then heaved a deep sigh. He scrubbed his face with both hands. “Damn. Pardon my language, ma’am, but it’s good to be off that pitiful, spavined excuse for a horse. Now I know why I got him so cheap. I haven’t ridden that many hours for quite a spell. There isn’t a bone in my body that’s not complaining.”
Trixianna turned from the stove and looked over her shoulder. “Is Chance expecting you?”
Amusement flickered momentarily in his eyes, then passed. “No, I reckon not. He sent me a wedding invite just because I’m family, I expect, but I doubt he thought I’d be coming.”
“A long trip then?”
“You could say that, ma’am,” he murmured. He sighed again. “A very long trip.”
Trixianna walked across the room with the coffeepot in one hand and two cups in the other. He watched her, a smile on his face. She poured one steaming cup, then handed it to him. He thanked her from eyes bright with pleasure.
Trixianna sat down across from Rider and studied his features. He held his coffee with both hands wrapped around the cup, his eyes narrowed. She saw the family resemblance; the same black hair, and thick black brows, the same pale blue intense eyes that didn’t miss a thing. Rider was much thinner, though, and his complexion was pale, almost sickly, instead of bronzed and wind-burned like Chance’s.
Suddenly, Rider’s eyes lit up. He turned a beaming smile upon Trixianna. “Is that ham and beans I smell?”
“Why, yes, it is.”
“Hot damn! I haven’t eaten in a spell. Could you spare a plateful?”
Trixianna smiled and was halfway out of her chair before she replied. “Of course.”
“I don’t mean to be nosy, ma’am, but what the devil are you doing here in Chance’s house at this time of night? You a housekeeper or cook or something like that?”
Trixianna contemplated her answer as she spooned beans onto a plate and placed a wedge of cornbread beside it. She set it in front of Rider before she answered. With both hands clutching the back of a chair, she looked him square in the eye. “I’m under arrest.”
His eyes bulged and he choked on a spoonful of food. She rushed around the table and slapped his back a few times. He coughed, then took a noisy swallow of coffee. His eyes watering, his spoon stopped midway to his mouth, he said, “What the hell for? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in jail? Dammit it all, I’ve got so many questions, I almost forgot how hungry I was.”
“It’s all right.” Trixianna sat down across from him and patted his outstretched hand. “You eat. I’ll talk.”
He nodded. Breaking off a piece of cornbread, he plopped it into his mouth and chewed. His watchful eyes never left her face.
“You see, the sheriff, that is…Chance, he mistook me for that bank robber, Mad Maggie West.”
“Yeah? I’ve heard of her.”
“We do look a little alike. I saw the wanted poster, and I suppose I can see a slight resemblance but really…” Trixianna waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That woman has a big nose and her eyes are squinty like this.” She narrowed her gaze and puckered her mouth to show him what she meant.
Rider laughed. “No offense, ma’am, but she must be an ugly cuss if that’s what she looks like.”
Trixianna joined in his laughter. “I guess so. Anyway, Chance came to my house early one morning to arrest me, and he so scared me that I shot him.”
“You what!”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’d never shot a gun before, so I didn’t kill him or anything, just wounded him in the shoulder, but I’m sure it hurt a great deal.”
Rider shook his head, a smile turning up his lips in a mischievous grin. “I’d say.”
“Anyway, the townsfolk of Grand Fork—they’re really wonderful people—wouldn’t allow Chance to put me in the jail. They said it wasn’t fit for a lady. I’m staying here until the Dena Valley sheriff comes to take a look at me. I’m sure he’ll straighten out this awful situation.”
“Hmmm.” Rider’s brows lifted in an expression so like Chance that Trixianna smiled. He smiled back. “So in the meantime, you’re holed up here with Chance. What does his bride-to-be think of this cozy little arrangement?”
“Fanny?”
He nodded. “Yeah, Fanny. I’d forgotten the name of Chance’s bride.”
“She’s a lovely person, very understanding, as has been everyone. She hasn’t said a word against me. Actually, I think you could say we’ve become friends. She doesn’t believe I robbed the Dena Valley bank either.”
“She must be agreeable, all right. Is she pretty?”
Taken aback, Trixianna stammered, trying to find the right words to describe Fanny. She stalled by pouring more coffee into Rider’s empty cup. She glanced at his face.
His lips turned up in a bemused smile. Then he gave her an infectious grin. “No, huh?”
Trixianna bit her lip to keep from returning that charming smile so like Chance’s. “Fanny has many fine qualities.”
“I’m sure she does or else Chance wouldn’t be marrying up with her.”
“That’s right. Did you know she’s the mayor’s daughter?”
“That might explain a few things,” he murmured. “Have you got more beans?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Trixianna jumped up to refill his plate. This time she brought back one for herself. She glanced at her watch. Nine-thirty. Where was Chance?
“Late, is he?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s just busy and lost track of the time. His stomach will remind him soon.”
“Yeah, that’s Chance, all right.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “When he was a kid, he’d get right cranky when he was hungry. I expect he likes having a woman to cook for him.”
“He hasn’t complained about my cooking.”
He cocked his head to one side. “I hear a ‘but’ there.”
“Well, we’ve had a few problems adjusting to living together.”
Rider snorted, then burst into laughter. “I can well imagine.”
“Have you a place to stay?”
“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d thought I’d just bed down on the floor. I’m a little strapped for cash.”
“I’m sure Chance wouldn’t mind. I’m just sorry I’ve taken over the extra room.”
His expression darkened. “I’m not so sure about Chance minding, but what’s he gonna do once I’m bedded down and snoring on his floor? Kick me out?”
“I guess not.” Trixianna picked up the plates and cups from the table. She put them in the sink to be washed in the morning. As she turned down the fire on the stove beneath the beans, she hoped Chance would smell them when he arrived home.
She turned to Rider, who stood beside the table watching her. “I’m turning in for the night. Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, ma’am. I’ll sit up awhile and wait for Chance. I don’t know how long I can keep my eyes open, though. It’s been a hard trip.”
Trixianna started down the hall. “Well, there’s hot water on the back of the stove if you’d like to clean up, and there’s bedding in the chest by the fireplace. If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”
“Don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He stretched his arms and yawned, then gave her a boyish grin. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a few years now.”
She smiled. “I’m sure you have. Good-night then.”
“Good-night, ma’am, and thanks again for supper. Chance will be sorry he missed out.”
“Oh, he’ll show up sooner or later. If I know his appetite, he won’t even mind eating them cold.”
Rider chuckled. “I reckon not.”
Rider turned down the lamp on the kitchen table. He wandered around the kitchen, then the parlor, looking at Chance’s possessions and wondering about his life here in Grand Fork. He yanked off his new calfskin boots, then stretched out on the sofa. His stocking feet dangled over the end. He clasped his hands behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he thought about h
is only sibling. What would Chance think when he found out his baby brother was finally out of prison?
A man surprised is half beaten.
– Thomas Fuller, M.D.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEVERAL HOURS after midnight by the meager light of a waning moon, bounty hunter Sam Smith skirted the main road and trotted into Grand Fork, Kansas. He rode down a silent alley, deftly avoiding anyone’s notice. He slowed down in front of a surprisingly quiet saloon. Thin light shone out the bat-wing doors and spilled across the boardwalk. The sign above the swinging doors proclaimed it The Tanglefoot in bright red lettering.
Smith eased himself out of the saddle. He looped Jezebel’s reins around the hitching post and stepped stiffly up onto the walkway.
His body ached from every pore, and he felt about as lively as a day-old corpse. Three days on a horse could make a man wish he’d taken up an altogether different profession—one which didn’t require a man to bust his butt on a hard saddle day in and day out.
But a plentiful reward called. Rumor had it that Mad Maggie West was holed up in Grand Fork, and by God, Sam planned on taking her in and collecting on that mighty fine reward.
He took one look around and wondered what would make anybody think they could go unnoticed in this one-horse town. Hell, he could spit from one end to the other without going dry. He knew from experience that most desperadoes weren’t known for their brains, but to hide out here? Well, what could you expect from a woman?
Women just didn’t think like men. Sure as shootin’, they could be devious and contrary on occasion, but they weren’t good criminals. The upright women he knew were quiet, well-behaved and mild-mannered, and the bad women…well, they weren’t that bad. He couldn’t comprehend a female holding up a bank, much less shooting someone, but that was what they said she had done, and that was why he was here. Come hell or high water, he was taking this woman to Dena Valley and collecting the five hundred dollars.
He had thought long and hard about Mad Maggie as he’d ridden toward Grand Fork. He figured the law had it all wrong and it wasn’t a woman at all, just a small man with a high-pitched voice. That made more sense to him.
They said Mad Maggie West had not only robbed that one bank, but others as well. Why, over at the Dena Valley bank, the poor man she had shot, a bachelor fellow, would now probably stay unmarried, would more than likely never father children. Just the thought of that particular gunshot wound made Smith wince.