Dance With A Gunfighter (19 page)

As McLowry’s boots crunched on the gravel of the roadway,
she gazed down at him and smiled.

He put one foot on a water trough below her, and pushed
back the brim of his hat. "Evenin', Miss Lucky," he said.

"Jess McLowry, what're you doing here? I came out to
see the women fight over you down at the dance. You're the handsomest thing
that's happened to Dry Springs in a month of Sundays."

He grinned. "That's why I left. All that attention
was making me blush."

She put her hands on the waist of her green satin dress
and playfully thrust her hips out toward him. "I'll bet you haven’t
blushed since your mama stopped changing your diapers. But I might know a few
tricks to at least get a rise out of you."

He grinned. "Is that a promise?"

Her laugh was deep, warm and throaty. "Come up and
find out."

There had been a time when to spend an evening with a
woman with Lucky's good nature and laughter was all he wanted. But no more. He
glanced back toward the dance. Gabe might be there now. He should make sure
that she was all right. And take a look at the dress she’d been babbling about
all week. "No, I'd better get back. Can't disappoint all those womenfolk
you were talking about."

She grasped the railing and peered down the street to the
town hall. "I remember when I used to go to town socials." She shook
her head, the smile gone from her eyes as she gazed down at him. "Long
time ago."

He watched her. "Let’s go, then."

"Me?" She threw back her shoulders, staring at
him as if he were crazy. "I'm not wanted there, McLowry. You know
that."

"They wanted your help last week at Doc
Shannon’s."

"That was different."

"You helped in this town. You were there when people
needed you. You can hold your head up with any of the rest of them."

Temptation was written over her face, but still, she
hesitated.

"Come with me," he urged.

She seemed to study him a long moment. "Oh...well...why
not! Give me one minute, okay?" She ran inside. In no time she was
stepping out onto the porch, a black lace shawl covering her shoulders, her
green skirts swirling around her as she turned to pull the door shut. With a
smile and a swish of ruffled petticoats she bounded down the steps and hooked
her arm in his. "I just hope you're still with me when they start throwing
stones."

Chapter 15

As they approached the dance, McLowry felt Lucky stiffen
and grow more nervous with each step. Mrs. Larkin and Mrs. Grimes stood at the
entrance like a pair of gargoyles. Their eyes widened in surprise to see Lucky,
then each smiled sternly and welcomed her.

McLowry thought Lucky was going to faint from relief that
she wasn’t turned back. He gave her a grin as he went off to check his hat and
guns.

A crowd had gathered around the refreshments, but Gabe
wasn't among them. He wondered if she hadn't returned yet. Casually, he glanced
in the direction of the dancers then stared, unbelieving.

He had never seen her in a dress cut that low. It was all
wrong for her. Too dressy, too worldly...too revealing. Who the hell did she
think she was? Lucky? His gaze slowly drifted to her tiny waist and the soft
billows of material that flowed over her slim hips to the floor. He stared at
her hair, done up in tight curls and giving her a sophisticated, grown-up look.
He could scarcely swallow. She was beautiful.

To him, she'd been beautiful for a long time, but he
guessed the rest of the world found her, at best, cute. But there was no
denying that the rest of the world would notice her beauty now.

The young man who held her so reverently obviously did.
Even from this distance, McLowry could see the enchantment in his eyes and the
way he couldn't tear his gaze away from her.

Nor could McLowry. He glanced at the bodice of her dress
again and felt a little warm under his collar. When he saw her partner’s hold
on her tighten ever so slightly he decided if the young buck got any
friendlier, he was going to march right out there and put a stop to it.

"Your little cousin seems to be in capable hands
there," Lucky said, joining him.

McLowry’s back went rigid at her unfortunate choice of
words. The thought of any other man's hands on Gabe....

He tried to shake off the feeling. He had no right to it.

"Do you want to go over to her?" Lucky asked.

McLowry forced down the desire to march up the hayseed
holding Gabe so damn close and toss him on his ear. His arm slipped around
Lucky's waist and he jerked her to his side, then inclined toward her, his
words for her ears alone. "I don't want to be anywhere but here." He
caught her eye and held it.

She tugged on the tip of his string tie. "Good,"
she whispered.

Moments earlier, Gabe had spotted McLowry step to the edge
of the dance floor. He looked mighty fine, she thought, with his wavy, golden
hair, his broad shoulders narrowing down to thin hips, his long, muscular legs
in well-fitting black slacks. Giddily, she smiled at the young man with her,
eager for Jess to notice her dancing, to witness that, tonight at least, other
men found her attractive. As soon as he realized that fact, she planned to go
to his side and stick beside him the rest of the evening. She could have danced
on a tabletop, so gleeful was she that he was here, now, seeing her being
whirled around the dance floor.

But then, Lucky Meacham stepped up to him. Gabe saw her
take McLowry’s arm and saw him smile at her, then pull her close and whisper to
her.

Gabe turned her head away, struggling to keep her
composure. Her partner spoke of his pleasure at dancing with her, and she
looked up at him as if he had been talking some foreign tongue. He smiled. What
was his name? He was rather handsome and quite pleasant. There should have been
something about him to warm her and make her feel even a little of the flutter
and turmoil she felt in McLowry's presence, but she found nothing.

She allowed him to pull her a little closer, but even his
nearness did nothing to awaken her bruised senses.

She peeked at McLowry, at his arm lingering on Lucky's
waist. She watched Lucky’s hand touch his chest as they gazed at each other.

Her legs refused to take another step, and she lowered her
head, unable to mask the hurt that came over her.

"What's wrong?" her partner asked.

"It's...it's a little warm. I think I've been dancing
too much. Perhaps some punch..." Her voice was a whisper, and he put his
hand against her back as he bent near, then kept his hand just that way.
Instead of leading her toward the refreshment tables, he led her toward the
entrance.

"Why don’t we step outside?" he suggested.

She didn’t want to go out with him, and stopped walking.
"No. I’m a bit thirsty, though, if you don’t mind."

"Anything for you, Miss Devere."

She was grateful to be left alone for a moment, to be
given some time to recapture her control. She pressed her fingers to her fiery
cheeks, trying to calm herself. As she lifted her head, a different young man
stood before her.

"May I have the next dance, Miss Devere?" he asked.
He was tall and thin, with ears that stuck out from the sides of his head like
fins on a fish. He had ridden with McLowry to Tucson.

"I’m sorry. I’m waiting for a friend to return with
some punch. Perhaps later?"

"Okay." He reddened as he backed away.
"Good. Great!"

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but Gabe said
good-bye as she backed away and then spun around to move even farther from him.
As she did, though, she turned directly in front of McLowry and Lucky. Her gaze
met his and held.

He felt like the Devil himself when he saw the
disappointment in her eyes. He wanted to take her hands and tell her he had
only brought Lucky here as a friend. Instead, he kept his arm around Lucky’s
waist. This meeting went along with his plan perfectly. He had wanted Gabe to
meet young men, after all. And she was. He had wanted her to ignore him, and
she would. Now.

It was perfect. Why, then, did he feel like something that
would stick to the sole of a boot after walking through a pigsty?

"Hello, Gabe," Lucky said.

Gabe tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a
grimace, and she quickly stopped. "Hello." Her gaze drifted back to
McLowry. She was sure everything she was feeling was written on her face, but
she could no more lie to him than to her own soul.

"You seem to be quite in demand this evening,"
he said.

She shrugged. "There aren’t many single women here, I
suppose."

"I don’t think that’s the reason."

"Oh?"

"You look beautiful tonight, Gabe," he said.

Her eyes brightened, but then a brow hitched, and confusion
filled her face. He suddenly wanted to explain--to tell her how he felt about
her. But he had no right to.

She took a deep breath. "Don’t you know you shouldn’t
compliment one woman while your arm’s around another, Jess McLowry?"

McLowry turned to Lucky. "Is that so?"

He didn’t listen to Lucky’s comment as some scalawag,
whose name he didn’t know, walked up to Gabe as bold as you please and handed
her some punch. Who was that guy?

"Thank you," Gabe said to him, then glanced back
at McLowry and Lucky. "Excuse us, please."

Without waiting, she turned and walked away. McLowry
glared murderously at her companion. The young man blanched at McLowry’s
scathing look, then hurried after Gabe.

"Go after her, McLowry," Lucky said. "It’s
obvious you two want to be together."

His stony gaze should have made her regret her
outspokenness. "She’s hardly more than a girl," he said. "That
young boy she’s found who follows her around like a puppy is perfect for
her." Hard eyes raked over Lucky’s figure. "I prefer women. Why don’t
we get the hell out of here?"

Lucky hesitated, looking long at him, then put her hands
on her hips. "This is a dance, McLowry. And I intend to do some dancing. I
declare, I’ve never been such a wallflower in all my life!"

He had to admit to being grateful for her refusal of a
suggestion he had regretted making as soon as the words left his lips. He led
her to the dance floor. When the music stopped, another man, a widower, shyly
asked Lucky for the next dance. She gawked from him to McLowry, then smiled
broadly and accepted.

As McLowry slowly strolled along the edge of the dance, he
watched Gabe surrounded by admirers. He felt like a man who had found a plain,
brown caterpillar, brought it home and gave it shelter as it spun its cocoon.
Then, one day, it emerged as a butterfly...and flew straight into his
neighbor’s garden.

He leaned against a pillar and looked over the crowd. The
people in this town had been friendly to him, and he had found plenty of people
here to admire, but he’d spent too many years as an outsider to know how to
begin any attempt to belong. The day would soon come when he would want, or
need, to leave. He should go now, while he still felt good about the place.
After tonight, with all these men asking her to dance with them, Gabe might
find a reason to stay here. She might even forget all about her dangerous plans
for revenge.

His gaze drifted, as it had all evening, back to Gabe and
the bevy of single men surrounding her. He noticed one tall fellow step up
behind her and stand much too close. If he got any closer he could peer over
her shoulder and right down the front of her dress.

McLowry strode toward her. Any sign that the tall fellow’s
mind traveled the route his own just had, and he would either get Gabe away
from him or remove the tall man's head from his shoulders. Probably both.

The tall man was the first to see him approach, and his
eyes widened at the expression on McLowry’s face. He hurried away.

Gabe kept her attention on the young fellow who was
speaking, but she knew McLowry was near. Her senses were suddenly alive and
tingling, and no one had that effect on her but Jess.

When she looked up, he stood before her.

A waltz began. He saw her glance toward the fiddlers, then
back at him with a broad smile as if to acknowledge the perfection of his
timing. He swore inwardly. He had only meant to get her away from that group
and talk to her, then leave her, but the anticipation on her face was something
he couldn't deny.

He held out his hand. "Might I have this dance?"

Maht ah have this dance?
The sweet sound of his
words was music to her. Their hands met and, as he stepped backwards, drawing
her onto the dance floor, their grasp tightened. She felt as if she were
floating toward him. He stopped, but she continued, closer and closer, until
she stood a hair’s breath away.

As her hand lifted to his shoulder, she tilted her head
back, and as his arm circled her waist, he bent his head forward. He stepped
forward to start the dance. In that small instant before she followed his lead,
she felt his leg brush against hers. Warmth shot through her. Her body strained
toward him while her feet, her traitorous feet, stepped back and away from him
in accordance with the pattern of the dance.

His arm tightened around her waist and he gazed at her
lips, mere inches away. He tore his eyes away and looked out over the crowd,
trying to pay attention only to the music. But his heart pounded from the force
of wanting her.

And of hating himself for it.

He looked over the young men surrounding the dance floor,
so eager to take his place in her arms. Gazing down at her, he feigned a
nonchalant smile. "If you’d like to stop, I understand," he said.
"You must be tired after so much dancing."

She cocked her head. "Some years ago," she said,
"I discovered dancing with the right person could be one of the most
wonderful experiences in the world. Do you remember, Jess?"