“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man.” She placed her hands on her hips. The icy glare she threw at Chance quelled his retort. Tildy was a tyrant when riled. “Furthermore, have you let her out at all today?”
“Hell, no.”
“Did you even think of her needs?”
“What needs?” he demanded. Christ, the woman was a criminal. Didn’t anyone realize that but him?
Tildy turned her head and pointed a plump finger at the chamber pot in the corner of Trixianna’s cell.
Burnsey snickered. Annie V. out and out guffawed. Heat worked its way up Chance’s neck and tightened his collar. He unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, shrugging his shoulders. His head throbbed, his gunshot wound ached, and now this. He shook his head, waiting for Tildy to ruin what was left of this day. What he wouldn’t give for a hot bath and a bottle of cheap whiskey.
“Do you expect a woman to use that thing in front of you and God and all creation?”
“She’s a wanted criminal, Tildy. She might escape. Do you expect me to escort her out to the privy every time she needs to…um, you know…” Damn! He was blushing.
“Yes, I do. You were brought up to be a gentleman and you’re not acting like one. What’s more—”
Annie V. interrupted. “I guess it’s time to be leaving.” She set the tray on the desk beside Bert Sinclair’s. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Trixianna.”
“Thank you, Annie.” Her soft voice held a slight tinge of wonder. Chance glanced at her, surprised by the delicate hue of pink glowing in her cheeks.
“I do believe we’ll take our leave now also, dear,” Burnsey said. “I think Miss O’Hara has things well in hand.” He bowed to Tildy, who quirked a brow at his noble gesture.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Burns. I believe I do.”
“I’m sure of it,” he replied, backing out the door and taking the superfluous tray with him. The so-called lawyer followed him out.
“And furthermore, Chance Magrane,” Tildy said. “I will not allow this young woman to sleep on that—” With a disgusted look on her face, she waved her hand at the cot in Trixianna’s cell. “—Filthy, bug-infested thing you men actually call a bed.”
“If she doesn’t sleep there, then where would you have her sleep? In my own bed at home?”
“Exactly.”
“What!”
“Have you ever had a woman in jail before?”
“Well, no.”
“My point exactly.” She patted Chance’s cheek. “I’ve spoken to the mayor and he agrees with me. Miss Lawless will be sleeping in your house tonight.”
Woman is man’s confusion.
–Vincent of Beauvais
CHAPTER THREE
“NO WAY in hell am I letting her out of this jail.”
Fascinated, Trixianna watched Chance’s brows draw together in a frown.
“And, no way in hell will she sleep in my bed.”
“You will let her out.” Tildy’s face looked as red as an expensive ruby.
“Over—my—dead—body,” Chance ground out. His pale blue eyes flickered with irritation.
From her vantage point behind bars, Trixianna listened, mesmerized. She stared at the fierce by-play between Chance and his aunt. Chance exuded a vitality she envied and yet found deeply disturbing. Her heart thundered in her ears with…excitement? She didn’t know why, but as she watched Chance’s tense, hard body, an intense tickling started in her stomach and inched lower. She swallowed hard against a lump that had lodged in her throat.
Trixianna was rather glad Tildy was on her side in this matter. Already she could see that the woman had the upper hand with the sheriff. Nearly as tall as Chance, Tildy stood toe to toe with him, her eyes as cold and icy blue as the sea. As she ranted, her bountiful chest rose and fell like a ship rolling over the waves. Like a train, too fast and too large to stop, she ran roughshod over her nephew.
“You listen here, Chance, no lady is going to sleep in this jail, not tonight nor any other night.” She poked a finger into his chest, not once but three separate times. His eyes narrowed, and obvious annoyance hovered there.
Tildy continued, apparently unconcerned about his furious demeanor although it scared Trixianna half to death. “Since you have an extra room in your house, then Trixianna can—”
The line of his mouth tightened. “Her name is Maggie West.”
Tildy screwed her mouth up in a frown. “Trixianna can stay in your home where you can keep an eye on her if you think that’s necessary.”
“Tildy, maybe you’ve forgotten, but I am the sheriff. I can keep anyone I want in jail, whenever I want, be it man or woman.”
“No, you can’t. I simply won’t allow it.”
“Allow it?” Chance backed away and leaned against his desk. He folded his arms over his chest and winced. He turned his head toward Trixianna and glared at her as if the pain in his shoulder were all her fault. She guessed it was. She kept her peace, however, since his anger was now directed at her and she had no wish to be the object of his verbal fury.
“If I was to let her stay in my house, wouldn’t that cause a ruckus?” he said. “You, of all people, should know that, since you’re one of the town’s gossiping busybodies. I may have lived in Grand Fork only five years, but even I know that much.”
“I don’t believe you were raised to be a rude jackass, Chance.”
Chance rolled his eyes.
“Besides, we trust you, dear. What scandal could possibly go on between our good sheriff and a good-hearted bank robber like Trixianna here, who, by the way, I don't believe robbed any bank.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows rose in amusement. “Who made you the expert?”
“I don’t much like your tone, young man.”
He shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn’t much care what she thought either.
“I know an honest face when I see one,” Tildy said, “and that is an honest face—and a very pretty one, in case you hadn’t noticed. Much prettier than someone else we know.” She tilted her head in Trixianna’s direction with a significant lifting of her brows.
“Tildy, for God’s sake.” He gave his aunt a scowl, then looked Trixianna over, first up and then down, taking his slow time doing it, until she thought she’d die of humiliation. Though uneasy beneath his scrutiny, she boldly met his gaze. Those intense blue eyes of his assessed her every feature. She had no idea what he thought, for his expression revealed nothing.
Her stomach chose that unfortunate moment to growl. Both Tildy’s and Chance’s brows rose.
“Good Lord, open that door before the woman expires right there on the floor.”
With a look of exasperation, Chance turned to get the keys out of his desk drawer. Under his breath, he mumbled, “We should be so lucky.”
Tildy patted Trixianna’s hand through the bars. “We heard that, young man.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward again, then strode over to the cell and unlocked the door. He stared at Trixianna. “If you so much as blink an eyelash at that outside door, I’ll shoot you,” he warned.
Trixianna glanced at the revolver holstered on his thigh, then at the derisive expression on his face. She didn’t doubt for a minute that he meant every word he said.
“I won’t,” she promised.
“Do you need to use the necessary, dearie?” Tildy asked.
“Thank you, no.” Trixianna ducked her head to keep Chance from seeing the blush blossoming on her face. Earlier in the day, when she’d been alone and in desperate need, she’d taken advantage of the chamber pot. She hated to admit to its use now, though, in front of the sheriff and his aunt.
Tildy went about rearranging Chance’s desk to her satisfaction. She patted her iron-gray hair, hich she wore pulled up tight in a bun. Spectacles, seemingly unforgotten, were pushed up on top of her head. She cast a quick glance at Chance, then turned the tintype of the girl with the goat face-down and folded the newspaper. She placed the paper over the tintype.
Chance scowled at his aunt, but said nothing about her actions.
With both plates of food set out, she brushed her hands together in a dismissive manner. She then pulled an extra chair over to the desk for Trixianna. “That should do it.” She smiled at Trixianna. “Eat, both of you. I’ll be off, now.”
As Trixianna rearranged her skirts to sit down, Tildy leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Ask Chance about Fanny.”
With that, she kissed Chance on the cheek.
He mumbled his good-byes.
She reeled out of the office, her brown sateen skirts swishing behind her like a schooner in full sail. “You youngsters have a nice evening.”
“Youngsters? A nice evening? That’s about as likely as getting milk from a bull,” Chance muttered.
“What are you going to do now?” Trixianna asked, curious about his intention now that his aunt was gone.
“What the hell can I do?” The fork he’d just picked up clattered to the table. He placed both hands palms down on either side of his plate and stared at her. “You’ve seen this town. You can’t take a pis—That is, you can’t take a pony down the street without everybody commenting on it. If I keep you jailed, there’ll be hell to pay. Tildy will get her sewing circle to talk to their husbands, meaning the mayor, the barber, the…well, dammit, every man in town, and they’ll be after me night and day to release you and make you stay at my place. She’s plain got me over a barrel.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any problems, and I certainly don’t want to go to your house either, but this is your fault.”
“My fault?” He jumped to his feet, causing the dishes to rattle against each other and threaten to overturn. “How could this possibly be my fault?”
“You’ve arrested the wrong woman,” she replied in her most sensible tone. With a sense of conviction, she continued. “I’m not this Mad Maggie person. I keep telling you, but you aren’t listening. I have never robbed a bank. Not ever. Period. End of discussion.”
“I’m listening now, all right, and this is not the end of the discussion. Either you’re lying through your pretty white teeth, or I’m no lawman.”
Trixianna resumed eating, refusing to look into his angry face.
“And another thing, Miss West.”
“Miss Lawless,” she said between bites.
“Miss West,” he repeated. “I don’t reckon you’ll be going anywhere soon because this blamed town and its busybodies will know what you’re up to every single minute of every single day.” He resumed chewing on a biscuit, his elbows on the table.
“Oh?”
“You won’t be able to use the outhouse without someone telling me how long you were in there. You and I will be the talk of the town. And that’s for damn sure, or I don’t know Grand Fork.”
“I don’t believe it for a minute, Sheriff. Surely the good people of Grand Fork have better things to do with their time than watch what I’m up to.”
He rolled his eyes, then stuffed the last of his biscuit in his mouth. He picked up his fork and pointed it at her. “Shows what you know.”
“Tell me about Fanny, Sheriff.”
He stopped with the fork above his plate, then took a deep breath. He resumed eating his supper, his eyes on his plate. “She’s my intended.”
“Oh, you’re going to be married?” She didn’t know why she found the news so disconcerting. The sheriff meant nothing to her, but for some reason a sense of loss swept over her. She, too, wanted to get married someday, but so far she hadn’t had so much as a male caller. Most men found her too forward. She didn’t think they much liked freckles and red hair either.
“Yeah, in less two weeks.”
“That soon?” She chose her words cautiously, veiling her inner feelings from his shrewd, discerning stare. “Would that be her in the tintype on your desk then?”
He answered with a nod. He looked up, and their eyes met and clashed. Trixianna bit her lower lip in confusion. The expression on his face disoriented her, and sent her pulse pounding. Chance glanced away first, his face coloring slightly. He drummed the fingers of his left hand against the table top and stared at his half-empty plate of food.
She endeavored to bring her overwrought sensibilities into order and to remember what they had been discussing. “You’ve had a long engagement?”
He reached across the table and cupped her chin to get her to look at him. Although his touch was surprisingly gentle, her heart skittered in her chest. “I don’t talk about my personal life…with prisoners. Got that?”
Trixianna gulped. “Yes, of course.”
He pushed his plate aside and stood up. He straightened, grimacing, as he stretched his back and shoulders. “It’s been a long day. I’m dog-tired and my shoulder hurts like hell. Let’s say you and me get on out of here and go to bed.”
His choice of words embarrassed Trixianna, but she refrained from commenting. She ducked her head and went in search of her bonnet. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, and with the few pins she found scattered on the cell floor, managed to pin it up and get her bonnet on over the heavy mass.
She turned to find Chance watching, his pale eyes shimmering with some indefinable emotion as he stared at her. He quickly averted his gaze, grabbed his dusty black Stetson and shoved it low on his forehead. He ambled toward the doorway, checking to make sure the fire in the stove was out as he passed.
“The dishes?” she questioned.
“Let ‘em be.” He grabbed her arm. “Tildy wanted you to eat. By God, she can clean up. Let’s get going.”
Of all the blamed fool, downright idiotic ideas Tildy had ever concocted, this was the worst one yet. Chance grumbled under his breath as he moved unsteadily down the boardwalk, pulling Mad Maggie behind him. The woman must have the shortest legs this side of the Mississippi. He slowed his step only because if she fell he wasn’t certain he could help her up again, much less drag her to her feet. His shoulder burned as if it were on fire, and his head ached. He felt like he’d been ridden hard and put up wet.
Without a doubt, this had been the longest day of his life.
And it wasn’t over yet.
He still had to put Mad Maggie to bed, make sure she couldn’t escape his home and try to sleep with her under his roof.
Just the thought of her in bed gave him all sorts of notions. None of them sheriff-like.
“I need to go to my home first.”
He pulled up short and stared down at her. Her face betrayed nothing, except quiet expectation. He considered himself pretty shrewd when it came to reading people, but he was having a helluva time understanding this one. He decided she must have had some time on the stage. When he looked at her, he saw a stunning face and a stubborn tilt to the chin, but no deception and no guilt whatsoever. He sighed deeply. “What for?”
She looked directly at him. He stared into her compelling green eyes, feeling as though she were putting a crazy curse on him or something. He shook his head and moved his gaze to the tip of her nose. “I need to pack some clothes and pick up Angel,” she said.
“That wouldn’t be your accomplice, by any chance, would it?”
“Angel is my cat,” she said, a hint of exasperation in her tone.
He chuckled. “That cantankerous fluff of fur?”
She stepped back from him, her eyes wide, her cheeks blooming with color. “Were you in my house today without my permission?”
“You bet, Mad Maggie. I was searching high and low for a stash of money. Didn’t find it, though.”
“You went through my things?” She lifted one hand to her mouth. Her fingers trembled. He couldn’t say why, but the actress’s mask was gone. Anxiety shone in her eyes as clear as the tiny freckles peppering her nose.
“What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll find something?”
“No,” she countered. “I have nothing to hide. It’s just that I find it disconcerting to know someone has gone through my belongings.”
“That someone being me???
? He shoved his hat to the back of his head and leaned down to look straight into those sharp, emerald eyes of hers. He hoped she’d give something away. Instead she gazed at him, her cheeks rosy and her chin tilted at a stubborn angle. What he got was a frank, unblinking stare.
“Yes, exactly.”
Her straightforward answer amused him. “You afraid I might muss up those sexy new unmentionables of yours. Eh, Maggie?”
He didn’t think her cheeks could become any redder, but they did.
“My stars, is nothing private? And it’s Trixianna, Sheriff, Trixianna Lawless.”
He shook his head and took her arm, pulling her along with him down the walkway. Her feet tapped a quick pitter-patter alongside his in an attempt to keep up. He smiled to himself. “Nothing’s private in Grand Fork. Let’s get your clothes and your mouser and get going. I understand that besides your ability to rob banks, you cook, too, Mad Maggie. This arrangement might turn out all right after all. I really cotton to a hot breakfast of ham and eggs in the morning. How about you?”
“You expect me to cook for you?”
“Why not? You should earn your keep.”
She stumbled up beside him and clasped his arm, jerking him to a stop. She’d grabbed his right arm, wrenching his shoulder at the same time. He clenched his jaw to keep from yelling out loud. Holding his arm tight against his stomach, he bent over and took several deep breaths.
Trixianna could have kicked herself. She’d hurt him…again. Her eyes welled with tears. She was such an unthinking ninny. “Oh, what have I done to your poor shoulder?” Fine lines of pain were etched around his lips, tightened in a thin line. His face was pale and coated with a sheen of perspiration. “You’re not going to faint again, are you, Sheriff?”
“Go ahead, pile on the agony,” Chance gritted out, frowning at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “Are you trying to unman me in the entirety or is this your usual manner of chasing off men?”
“I beg your pardon?” Heat blossomed in her cheeks. My stars. Wasn’t that something someone did to a horse’s private parts? “I didn’t mean to—that is, I—”
“Never mind.” He straightened and started down the boardwalk.
She hurried to catch up to him.
They finished the walk to her home in awkward silence. When they got there, Chance stood in the doorway. “I’ll be listening to every sound, especially the back door swinging shut. Don’t you try anything. Go on now and get your things.”