Amon (5 page)

Amon thought a moment, as far as he knew neither Colin nor Harrison would’ve had time to speak to Clinton on the matter. He then looked Clinton over carefully. From the looks and smell of him, he’d just gotten out of a bathtub. He’d never seen the man so clean!

“Well? Are ya givin’ me the money or not?” Clinton snapped as his eyes flicked between Amon and the coins Levi had been counting.

“Tell me,” Amon said as he leaned casually against the counter, “does this lady know she’s getting married to you?”

Levi made a strangled noise and hid a smile behind his hand.

“Ain’t asked ‘er yet, but she’s got no reason to say no!” Clinton said with a sneer.

“And you think a dollar is going to tip the scales for you?”

“Dagnabit, Cotter!” Clinton squealed, “just gimme a dollar and be done with it, will ya?”

Amon watched Levi sweep the coins from the counter to deposit them. Good – that would keep Clinton from just grabbing one and walking off. “Clinton, has it occurred to you that a wife needs a roof over her head and food on the table?”

“What’s that got to do with anythin’?” Clinton asked, eyes narrowed.

“He does have a point, Clinton,” Levi added.

“You keep out of this!” Clinton said, glaring at Levi. “This’s got nothin’ to do with you, you –”

“On the contrary,” Amon interrupted before Clinton could finish. He’d suspected that the reprobate was preparing to slander Levi’s Jewish heritage, and if he had, Amon would’ve felt honor-bound to beat the man senseless. “I think Mr. Stone here has everything to do with this. If you’re planning on getting married, you’d best have a healthy bank account.”

“I don’t need no bank account to get married! Heck, she can live on bread and water for all I care!”

Amon and Levi exchanged a worried glance. “But if you don’t even care about what you’re going to feed her, what do you want her for?” Amon asked. “You have no house, you have no money …”

“I don’t care about that stuff! What do I want her for? Same thing you’d want her for, I’d bet!” His leer left no doubt as to what that might be. “Now ya gonna gimme that dollar or not?”

“You plan on purchasing her for a dollar?” Amon remarked dryly, crossing his arms.

“Naw, ya stupid overgrown tree trunk – I’m gonna get her a present to warm ‘er up, then I’ll pop the question. With any luck, I’ll have ‘er in my bedroll tonight!”

Amon shook his head and tried not to groan. “And you think she’s just going to fall into your arms, is that it?” He looked at Levi, who was rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“If she don’t, then I’ll just take ‘er!” Clinton declared.

Amon drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. “No, you won’t,” he said evenly, his voice low and laced with threat. Even if he wasn’t interested in the woman himself, he wasn’t about to see Clinton act out his idea of “marriage” on the poor girl.

Clinton bristled. “Stay away from her, Cotter. She’s mine!”

“No. She isn’t.”

“I think I’ve heard enough,” Levi interjected. “Please leave, Mr. Moresy, before I throw you out.” Which, Amon mused, Levi could easily do – Clinton was a head shorter than the banker, and in far worse shape. “And then tell the sheriff of your ‘plans’.”

“I’ll back you,” Amon added. “And no, Clinton, I’m not giving you any money.”

Clinton scowled up at both of them. “Well, I don’t need yer help anyway! I aim to have her, Cotter, and you can’t stop me!”

Amon took in the determined gleam in Clinton’s eyes. The man cared nothing for the woman except to satisfy his lust. It made Amon’s stomach roil. Anger like he’d never felt before rose up out of nowhere, and his hands balled into fists. It was only with monumental effort that he didn’t plant one of them in Clinton’s disgusting face. “You can’t marry her.”

“And why not?” Clinton spat.

Amon knew he was going to regret saying it. But necessity, not to mention propriety, demanded it. “Because she’s already spoken for.”

Four

“Spoken fer?” Clinton harrumphed. “Who says she’s spoken fer? I aim to have ‘er an’ that’s that!” He spun on his heel and stormed out of the bank before Amon or Levi could say another word.

Levi sighed and shook his head. “Good riddance. But you’d better go after him before he causes trouble.” He handed Amon the receipt he’d written out while Clinton had been running his mouth.

Amon took it. “Thanks, Levi. No doubt he’s heading straight for the hotel and that woman.” He headed for the door.

“I’ll lock up and get Sheriff Hughes,” Levi called after him.

“No, I’ll handle this myself.” Amon left the bank and jumped off the boardwalk to the street to see which way Clinton might’ve gone. Sure enough, he was making a beeline for the hotel, his stubbly legs moving as fast as they could without breaking into a run. Amon groaned. If he didn’t do something, the woman’s brother might just shoot Clinton. Then again, that might not be such a bad idea …

… no, he’d best get after him. He hated that he’d just made a commitment to this strange woman, or any woman for that matter. But if not Clinton, some other man would take his place, then another and another. Though wasn’t that what Amon wanted? Let the woman get married - why should he be the one to protect her from the likes of Clinton Moresy?

The woman’s face flashed before him and he stopped breathing altogether. What was
that
about? His heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach, and for a few seconds he couldn’t move.
God, what’s going on?
he thought.

That flash came again, and something deep down inside him
clicked
, like tumblers in a lock. For whatever reason, he had to get to her, that something bad would happen if he didn’t. And yet his feet wouldn’t move. It was the oddest sensation: a combination of fear, desperation and that boiling anger …

Amon shook himself. What was
wrong
with him? Maybe he was coming down with the influenza? No, it couldn’t be that – he’d never been sick a day in his life. He grumbled at himself and headed down the street.

By the time he reached the hotel, Clinton had already slipped inside like a spider racing into a dark hole. The lobby was empty, and the double doors to the dining room were closed. “Where is everybody?” he muttered to himself, then looked toward the staircase. “He wouldn’t dare,” he thought aloud. But this was
Clinton, who most certainly would. Granted, the little crook didn’t even know what room the woman was in, but it would be just like him to pound on all the doors until he found her …

“This is ridiculous,” Amon muttered as he ascended the stairs. Just as he’d thought, once he reached the top, he caught sight of Clinton going down the hall trying each and every door. “Moresy, what are you doing?”

Clinton spun to face him. “Get outta here, Cotter – this is none of yer affair!”

Amon stood tall, hands at his sides as his whole body tensed. It was a good thing he wasn’t wearing a gun, or he’d have drawn it. “Clinton, leave the woman be,” he said, his voice calmer than he felt.

“What’s she to ya?” Clinton spat, and turned to the door in front of him.

Suddenly Amon noticed that Clinton was wearing a gun. Of course he was – nothing about this situation was going to be simple, was it? “I told you, she’s spoken for,” he said before he had time to think.

Whatever had
clicked
deep within him did it again. It was as if he could sense her nearby. What in Heaven’s name …?

“Who?” Clinton demanded as he came down the hall toward him with angry strides. “Who spoke fer ‘er?”

Amon swallowed. Here it was. He was so going to regret this … “I did.”

“You?” He took a few steps back and looked Amon up and down. “She just got inna town! How could ya have any say? Jasper told me ya ain’t even been to Clear Creek since she got here!”

“Colin and Harrison Cooke came to the men’s camp yesterday and spoke with me about her. I’ve decided to take them up on their offer.”

Clinton’s mouth dropped open like a brick was tied to his jaw. He stared at Amon, dumbfounded.

Amon heard footsteps on the stairs behind him. Clinton was too dumbstruck to look past him, so Amon turned slightly to see who it was.

It was
her
! And the man he’d seen earlier – her brother, from the look of him. “Is something wrong, gentlemen?” he asked.

Clinton finally found his wits. “This lyin’, cheatin’, no-good skunk says he has claim on that woman! An’ I aim to see he don’t!”

The man’s brows rose in question. “Is that so? Whom may I ask are you?”

Clinton suddenly straightened, recognizing the man’s English accent. “Uh … ya two are … some relation of the Cookes?”

“Quite,” the woman said calmly. Amon felt a
thrum
inside like a guitar string being plucked at the sound of her voice.

“Any discussion concerning my sister will be done through me,” the man said. He turned to her. “Nettie, return to your room. I’ll come for you later.”

“On the contrary, dear brother – I think any discussion concerning me should include me. After all, I am the one getting married, not you.”

Amon turned to fully face them, carefully so as not to give Clinton any ideas about shooting him in the back. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said with a slight bow. He then turned to the man. “I spoke with Harrison and Colin yesterday.”

“You’re the chap Sadie Cooke had in mind for Nettie,” he said.

“How did you know?”

“I would think that quite obvious, dear sir, as the entire reason we’re here is so my sister can wed. I’m well aware that our relatives had several men in mind, one of which they favored more than the others. I can only assume you are he – otherwise why would you be here defending her?”

“Well, yes,” Amon agreed with a nod, his eyes locked on Nettie.

“What’s that gotta do with anythin’?” Clinton huffed. “She can pick who she wants!”

“Exactly,” Amon said dryly, not turning around.

Clinton didn’t take the hint, and perhaps didn’t have the concept of a hint. Instead he looked the woman up and down like she was his next meal. “Yer sure a purty thing. We kin get hitched before suppertime!”

Amon closed his eyes and groaned. “You’ll have to excuse him,” he said as he opened them and they locked with Nettie’s again.

“‘Scuse me fer what? I got as much right to ‘er as any other man in this town, maybe more so!”

“Newton Whitman,” the brother stated as he studied Clinton, one eyebrow raised, “And you are?”

“Clinton Moresy! An’ that there gal is the future Mrs. Moresy!” he bellowed, taking a few steps toward the woman.

Newton stepped in front of his sister, then glanced between Clinton and Amon. “And what makes you so sure?”

“’Cause I get what I want,” Clinton hissed.

His desperate bravado was almost embarrassing, Amon thought. Or at least it would be if he wasn’t armed, and stupid enough to be dangerous. He saw the woman take a step back as Clinton leered at her. If Clinton wasn’t careful – as he usually wasn’t – her brother was going to either have him thrown in jail or out a window.

Newton turned to his sister. “Nettie, this gentleman would very much like to marry you.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, dear … I’m afraid that won’t do.”

“Why not?” Clinton huffed, “Ain’t I good enough fer ya?”

“Frankly, sir … no. You’re certainly not.”

“Why, you –!”

Amon had had enough. He stepped between Clinton and the others. “I told you before, Moresy, she’s already spoken for. Do not put the lady in such a position.” He leaned down to him. “Besides, you heard her answer.”

Clinton tried to step around him, but had to settle for looking past him. “Zat true? Are ya already spoken fer? By
him
?” he added and jabbed a thumb toward Amon.

Amon fought for control. He’d never hurt a man in his life, but if Clinton Moresy didn’t back off quickly, he was going to tear the scroungy little man limb from limb …

Her eyes darted between the two, at last settling on Amon. She took in the intense look on his face, his clenched fists … “Yes,” she said tentatively, “I am.”

Newton pressed his lips together, his eyes full of amusement, but said nothing.

“So you see, Clinton?” Amon said evenly. “You’ve gone through all this trouble for nothing. Save it for the next one.”

Clinton scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes, reminding Amon of Mrs. Dunnigan. “This ain’t over,” he hissed, then stormed past the three and stomped down the stairs.

Amon let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I apologize. Clinton Moresy is less than, how should I put it, civilized?”

“As opposed to you?” Newton asked. He didn’t seem convinced.

“I’d like to think so, yes. But I’ll let you be the judge, Mr. Whitman.”

His humility caught the Englishman off-guard. “Well … you’re certainly right about Mr. Moresy – the man is obviously a cad. Thank you for defending my sister from …” he waved a hand behind him. “… that. Clearly he wouldn’t be a good match for her.”

“He was determined to be at almost any cost, I’m afraid.” Amon said.

“And yourself?” Newton asked.

“Me?” Amon suddenly realized he’d have to answer the man – he had basically just told him he was going to marry his sister. Now what would he do?

* * *

Nettie blinked at the man standing in front of her. Had she just heard him right? “You?” she said and pointed at him.

He raised a single eyebrow at the word – or rather, at her finger – as he stared at it. “As I was first choice, then … yes, me. Unless of course you would prefer not to, but that might risk you being at the mercies of Mr. Moresy.”

Behind her, she could hear the doors of the hotel lobby slamming, as if in punctuation of the violent Mr. Moresy’s intent. She grimaced and took a few steps backward.

“It’s all right, dear,” Newton whispered. “He’s gone. For now, at least.”

Nettie relaxed, slightly, and her eyes drifted back to the man in front of her. His features were different, odd, though handsome. His cheekbones were high, and there was a slight upward slant to his eyes, as if part of his ancestry were Chinese. His hair was a thick reddish-brown, poking out from under his hat. He was tall and lean but not undernourished – he seemed all muscle and sinew beneath his clothes. She blinked a few more times in an effort to tear her gaze from him – after all, it was impolite to stare – but found she couldn’t.

“Nettie?” Newton said softly to get her attention. Thankfully, it worked. “Perhaps we should speak to this gentleman in private?”

Her eyes slowly drifted back to the man standing before her. “As you wish.”

“Follow us, please,” Newton instructed, “Mr. er … ah …”

“The name’s Cotter. Amon Cotter.”

“Mr. Cotter,” he confirmed then took Nettie by the arm, turned and headed down the hall. She could
sense
the man following – what a strange feeling! She stole a quick glance at him and noticed his tight jaw. But the unpleasant Mr. Moresy was gone now …

She heard the lobby doors slam again. “Now lissen here – I ain’t said my peace yet!” Mr. Moresy yelled as he came stomping toward the stairs.

Mr. Cotter growled low in his throat and turned back. “I’ll take care of this –”

“If you’ll just come with us please, Mr. Cotter,” she said quickly, hoping to calm the situation. It wouldn’t do for the two of them to get into a fistfight there in the hallway. Besides, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be married to a man so quick to anger. Or was he simply being protective of her?

“Mr. Moresy,” Newton called as the little man came thundering up the staircase. “I’ll grant you an audience after I’ve spoken with Mr. Cotter. Would that suit you?”

Mr. Moresy stopped, his eyes darting around like a fly at a picnic. “How come I gotta go second?”

“On the simple basis that Mr. Cotter here has manners. Whereas you don’t.”

“Then why even bother to talk to me?” he asked with suspicion.

Newton gave him a casual smile. “Because then you can say I did.”  He turned back around, motioned to Mr. Cotter, and steered Nettie down the hall again.

With a man beside her and another close behind, she felt safe from the uncouth Mr. Moresy, who from the sound of it – or lack thereof – had chosen not to follow again. If she were lucky, he’d leave and not speak with her brother at all, but she somehow knew that wouldn’t be the case. He’d want to talk to Newton, even if it was to bad-mouth the man beside her. Something was better than nothing, and she guessed Mr. Moresy would take what he could get.

They reached Newton’s room and went inside. He invited Mr. Cotter to have a seat on a sofa near the window, then took a nearby chair and set it down on the other side of the small table in front of the sofa. “Nettie, would you mind running down to the kitchen and having Mrs. Upton fix us some tea?”

She looked between them. “Getting rid of me already?”