Before the Larkspur Blooms (10 page)

He had to keep a clear head, do what was best for her. While he tried to think of what he could say to make her understand, he stared at the remnants of the broken plate.

A quick rap on the back door startled both of them.

“Is everything all right in here, Hannah?” Dwight came in without invitation. He glanced at the plate and then back at Hannah. “I heard something shatter. Are you hurt?”

The deputy’s posture all but snapped straight when he saw Thom. His wide-eyed concern vanished as his hand lowered to the handle of the Colt 45 strapped to his leg.

Thom swore under his breath.
Exactly what I have been trying to avoid.
It wouldn’t take much to get himself shot or sent back to
Deer Lodge. Not much at all, especially with Dwight’s predatory temperament watching his every move with wolflike precision. The warden had warned Thom. People were afraid of ex-convicts. He had to be twenty times more observant of the law than most.

“What the devil is going on in here?” The white bone china crackled and popped underneath Dwight’s boots as he strode possessively toward Hannah.

Thom gritted his teeth and looked down at the floor. Surely Dwight would notice her flushed face. The tears glistening in her eyes.

“He try to hurt you, Hannah? In any way at all? Did he put his hands on you?” Dwight’s fingers curled around the handle of his gun. “You can tell me. Did he make improper advances?”

“Of course not!” Hannah said firmly. Sparks fairly sprang from her eyes. “That is outrageous. Win sent him over to fix my water pump. He’s been a perfect gentleman in every way.”

“I don’t know if I believe you, Hannah. Why didn’t Win come himself, like he always does? Mayhap this jailbird just wanted a moment alone with you. Do a little sweet-talking.” He jerked his gaze toward Thom. “Perhaps he’s hungry from all those years locked away.”

Thom dug deeper for his quiet. He’d learned how to play the game, but it rankled more with Dwight than it had with any prison guard. He uncurled his fingers in an attempt to relax and took deep breaths through his nose. “I came to fix the pump, Dwight,” he said, counting backward from five. “Just doing my job. Nothing more.”

Dwight jammed a finger into Thom’s chest, trying to push him back, but Thom held his ground. They both knew Dwight had him where he wanted him. Without Sheriff Preston here, Dwight could claim anything. “You’re to call me sir whenever you address me. You understand, mick jailbird?”

Hannah threw up her hands. “Be serious! No one calls you sir. Why should Thom?”

A line of crimson started on Dwight’s neck and slowly crept over his face toward the unkempt hair hanging down into his eyes. Thom didn’t like what he saw before Dwight’s small eyes darted over to Hannah. “Because I said so. That’s all the reason I need.” He looked back at Thom. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Thom said clearly, this time locking his gaze on the pink-and-green wallpaper. “Now,
sir
—can I get back to work? I have chores waiting for me back at the inn. It’s getting late.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you killed Levi Smith and then ran off with your tail between your legs. You’re nothing more than a cold-blooded killer.”

“Stop it!” Hannah shoved Dwight in the chest with both hands. “That was an accident. A boyhood fight. Levi pulled the knife to use on Thom. He stumbled and fell. Thom was cleared of any wrongdoing, and you know it! He didn’t kill Levi. Levi killed himself.”

“Innocent men don’t run.”

Dwight was enjoying this all too much. But he was right. Innocent men didn’t run, and Thom hadn’t. He’d just packed up one night and took off, unable to stay in Logan Meadows another day. Unable to stand the look on his father’s face every time he thought about the shame he’d brought down on the Donovan name by accidently killing a friend. But leaving Logan Meadows had only led him to Rome Littleton and prison.

“I don’t care if you are my cousin-in-law, Dwight Hoskins. You’re mean and crude. I don’t understand what makes you that way. I’m going for Albert if you don’t stop this foolishness this instant.” She glared up at Dwight. “Thom has served his time. Don’t you dare threaten him!”

“I don’t need you fighting my fights, Hannah,” Thom said evenly. “I don’t want you to either.” He reached for the wrench, and Dwight drew on him.

“I could kill you right now.”

If it weren’t for Hannah standing so close, Thom might have taken Dwight on. But there she stood, like a beautiful goddess carved from marble.

“You could, Dwight—but you won’t,” Thom said softly. “You know why? Because you don’t have the guts.” He took a tiny step in Dwight’s direction. “You were a spineless fool back when we were boys, and you still are.”

Dwight’s laugh was a bit too forced to be real.

Thom picked up the wrench and turned to the pump. He withdrew two worn-out washers from the contraption’s core, then replaced them with the ones in his pocket. He refastened the spout, then the pump handle. Screwing them down tight, he gave one last muscle-popping yank, just because it felt good.

J
ake lounged an arm on the walnut bar top inside the Bright Nugget Saloon and lazily placed one boot on the footrest. Irritation gripped his insides. All he wanted was for Kendall to get over here and pour him a drink. Was that too much to ask?

Through the gold-plated mirror, he watched the lean, middle-aged bartender give Daisy a stiff dressing-down at the back of the room. The girl must be in some sort of trouble. She kept her mouth shut and eyes cast at the sawdust-covered floor.

“You best remember that, missy,” Kendall threw over his shoulder as he turned and started Jake’s way. “That is, if you want to stay employed here!” He stopped behind the bar. Taking the draped towel from his shoulder, he wiped his hands. “Now, Jake, what can I do you for?”

Annoyed with everyone and everything, Jake had decided to skip supper at the bunkhouse and distract himself with a game of cards. Problem was, he was the only customer in the saloon.

“Whiskey.” He pulled a quarter from his pocket and placed it on the glossy wood.

Kendall gave him a long look, then took a bottle off the shelf. He pulled the cork and poured a shot. The amber liquid swirled invitingly around the smooth glass. As the tumbler filled, the memory of bleary eyes looked back from its depths. Jake almost gagged as the stink of his mother’s liquor-coated breath wafted over him, more real than if she were standing by his side. Fury
ripped through him, and before he could lose his nerve, he reached for the glass. Kendall stopped him with a hand to his arm.

“I never known you to be a drinker, Jake.”

“A lot of things you don’t know about me. Now, do I need your permission to drink the whiskey I just bought?”

They stood eye to eye. “Guess not.” Kendall stepped back.

“Good.” Jake tossed the shot down his throat, ignoring the burn that scalded his insides. He’d not give Kendall the satisfaction of knowing that his eyes felt as if they were about to pop from their sockets. He’d had whiskey before, of course, but never in such a large quantity. He breathed out, then smacked his lips. “That’s better. Give me another.”

Kendall poured in silence.

Jake turned and leaned against the bar, feeling the warmth in his chest and belly. He could see why men liked it. As Daisy made her way over, Kendall wrestled up the trash barrel and started for the back door.

“Evening, Jake.” She smiled a bit sadly, and a hundred memories from his youth tried to intrude on him, threatened to wreck his good time. No doing. He kicked them out of his mind.

“Evening, Daisy. Where is everyone? Town is sure quiet for a Friday night.” Light-chestnut-colored hair neatly swept to the top of her head in some sort of fancy style, and her full lips were painted soft pink. Her tight dress emphasized her tiny waist and petite, delicately powdered breasts pushing up to entice him. He was duly enticed. But when he dragged his gaze back up to her face, it was her emerald eyes, looking as though they’d seen a world of hurt and then some, that caught and kept his attention.

“I don’t know. I was wondering the same thing. It’ll be a long night if I don’t have
something
to help pass the time.” She batted her eyelashes. When he didn’t say anything, she dipped a slender finger in his glass, then placed it on her tongue.

Darn, she was young. Too young to be doing this. He wondered if she was even sixteen. He turned quickly and picked up
the shot and tossed it back, now enjoying the scorched trail to his gut.

“You in some sort of trouble with Kendall?” he said low, changing the direction of the conversation.

She lifted her shoulder, and her eyes hardened. “He don’t think I’m earning my keep. Said I’m not working the men.” Her lips trembled before they flattened into a hard line. Lacing her arm through the crook of his elbow, she leaned into him with her lithe body, and every nerve ending he had ignited.

His heart lurched, as well as other parts of him. As a young boy he’d watched from the dark shadows as his mother and the other saloon girls sold their wares. Night after night. Day after day.

When her invitation went unanswered, she pulled back, hurt.

“Daisy,” he said, wishing he could be someone else and take what she offered. She wouldn’t look at him.

“I really need you, Jake.” It was a whispered plea. The sound of her voice gave him pause.

Before he could answer, the swinging doors swooshed open, and Gabe stepped inside. He looked around the room and then headed Jake’s way.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said, his tone instantly grating on Jake’s nerves.

“Well, you found me. So what?”

“What the devil is your problem?” Gabe shot back, sliding onto a stool. Daisy stepped away and started straightening up the already-straightened room. “You’ve been acting sorry for yourself for a whole month. I wouldn’t care except Jessie is worried about you.”

Anger had been simmering in Jake too long. It bubbled up and spilled over. He took hold of the bar to keep from bashing Gabe in the face. They’d been like brothers for the last three years, and yet now it felt like he didn’t have a friend in the world. “Go meddle in someone else’s business and leave me alone,” he snarled, liking
the surprise that registered on Gabe’s face. “I have a right to go wherever I please.”

Gabe swung his arm wide. “So this is how you’re going to repay Chase and Jessie for taking you in? Putting a roof over your head and giving you a job? Darn good of you, Jake!”

Before Jake knew what he was about, he grasped Gabe by the shirtfront and shoved him against the bar. “You’re always so Sunday-going good, aren’t you, Gabe? So attentive, so polite.” Their faces were only an inch apart, and Jake knew the exact moment his advantage of surprise was up.

They were fairly matched in height and weight. Gabe shoved, and Jake stumbled back. He caught his balance, then swung with his left fist, connecting with Gabe’s jaw and almost knocking him down.

Gabe took a step back, hands clenched at his side. “You sorry bas—” He clamped his mouth shut.

“Go on and say it, Gabe. You’ve been thinking it since the day we met.”

Gabe’s eyes glittered with anger. “No. I’ll not fight you. You can stay in this bar feeling sorry for yourself for as long as you want.”

“You’re damn right I’m feeling sorry for myself. You would, too, if you didn’t know who your father was because your mother was a whore.”

Behind him, he heard Daisy gasp. She made a swift exit up the stairs.

Gabe watched her go for a moment. He rubbed his jaw. Finally he said, “I didn’t realize you were so upset, Jake. Thought you’d left all that behind you in Valley Springs.” He reached out for Jake’s shoulder, but Jake pulled back, not ready to give up the fight.

Always the peacemaker, Gabe added, “I’m sorry. I just thought you were nursing your wounds over Hannah. Her not, well…” He was rubbing salt in the wound of Jake’s pride, and it riled his ire even more.

Jake swung back to the bar and poured himself a third glass from the whiskey bottle Kendall had left. He couldn’t stop a bitter laugh. “Hannah? What could I offer someone like her? No. I knew I had no chance with her. But it just reinforced who I’m
not
and where I’m
not
going.”