Dawn Comes Early (29 page)

The marshal scratched the back of his head. “You spent more than five days with him. What did you do all that time?”

She moistened her lower lip. “I wrote.”

“Wrote?”

Miss Walker drummed her fingers on the table and regarded the marshal with a look of impatience. “Miss Tenney is a writer. Cactus Joe kidnapped her to write his biography.”

The marshal's eyes widened in disbelief. “That's all? I came all the way out here and that's all the man wanted? To have his biography written?”

Kate frowned. Apparently the marshal didn't care that she had been kept against her will. “That's not all. He . . . he tied me up. Fed me horrible food.”

The marshal scratched his neck. “You said you were writing his biography. Do you know anything about him? His real name? Where he's from?”

She quickly filled him in on the few actual details she knew about the man. “He calls himself the master of disguise.”

“So you think he comes to town in one of his disguises?” the marshal asked.

“He's actually bald and clean shaven and there's nothing wrong with his eye. If he came to town looking like that or dressed in one of his other disguises, no one would ever guess his true identity. In fact, I saw him at the post office dressed as an old man. I didn't know at the time it was him. I suspect he may have been spying on me at the ranch. The night I was reading to the . . . eh, the night I was reading.”

The marshal stroked his chin. “It's hard to believe he's been under our noses all this time.”

He looked so doubtful that Kate added, “How else would he have known I was a writer?”

Miss Walker nodded in agreement. “How, indeed?”

The marshal frowned. “What else did he tell you?”

“I suspect most of what he told me was exaggerated, if not altogether untrue. He has a very high opinion of himself.”

Miss Walker scoffed. “Which only proves he's a dreadful judge of character.”

The marshal reached for his hat. “It doesn't look like any real harm was done.”

Kate stared at him, incredulous. “Aren't you going to do something? Track him down? Form a posse?”

He shrugged. “It's a big desert out there.”

Kate's temper flared. “The man is dangerous. Evil. He had a gun and a knife and he threatened to use them. He likens himself to the bandit Jesse James.” On and on she went, making Cactus Joe sound worse than he actually was.

Nothing she said seemed to convince the marshal to take her kidnapping seriously. Seething, she glared at him, but then an idea occurred to her. The marshal had at least one thing in common with Cactus Joe—his ego.

Elbows on the table she rested her chin on folded hands. “When I finish Cactus Joe's story I will naturally devote a full chapter to the man who brings him to justice.” She gave the marshal a meaningful look. “I hope that man is you.”

Her ploy seemed to work because suddenly he seemed more interested. “Well now, ma'am. That would be mighty nice of you.” He donned his hat. “I'll get a posse together and we'll see what we can find. I'll let you know if I have good news.”

“We won't hold our breaths, Marshal,” Miss Walker muttered.

Seeming not to hear Miss Walker, he leaned toward Kate. “Just be sure you spell my name right. That's Morris with two
r'
s.”

He left and Kate rested her hands on her lap. A posse. She smiled. Cactus Joe would be so pleased.

Miss Walker cast a probing look Kate's way. “You have no idea how I've tried to make the marshal do something besides sit on his endgate.” She shrugged and took a sip of coffee, setting the cup down with a clatter. “Hmm.” She rose and walked to the doorway and stopped, her back to Kate. “Never thought I'd say this, but someone with the imagination of a fiction writer might be just what this ranch needs to take it into the next century.” With that she was gone, her hurried footsteps fading away.

For the longest while Kate didn't move except to smile. At last she had earned Miss Walker's approval, maybe even her respect. It's what she wanted. It's what she'd worked for all these weeks. The Last Chance Ranch was her chance for a long and happy future, and she had no intention of letting anyone or anything ruin it for her.

And that went double for Luke Adams.

Chapter 26

With solidity of strength acquired from weeks of drudgery, she banished Brandon from her life, if not her heart.

A
week later Kate paused outside the blacksmith shop. Luke had ridden out to the ranch several times to see her, but each time she was either on the range or had Rosita send him away with apologies.

She wasn't certain she was ready to see him even now, but she couldn't keep avoiding him. Still, she had just about made up her mind to leave when Homer appeared by her side. She stooped to pet him and he licked her cheek. She drew back and laughed.

Following Miss Walker's orders, Ruckus had driven her to town. He waited for her now in his parked wagon across the street. She was grateful for his protection, but she regretted not having time alone. Even on the ranch she was constantly watched and guarded.

She no longer feared Cactus Joe, but she wouldn't put it past him to kidnap her again to finish his book. She glanced in both directions. A man crossing the street was similar in height to Cactus Joe, but when he looked her way she realized it was the owner of the mercantile store, Mr. Green. Another figure gave her pause, this one a Mexican with a limp, but a glimpse of the man's broad face convinced her it was not Cactus Joe.

She walked into the blacksmith shop. She felt guilty for keeping Ruckus waiting. The sooner she finished what she had come to do, the sooner they could return to the ranch.

The clanging sound of iron upon iron greeted her as she stepped into the shop, her gaze freezing upon Luke's long, lean form. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow beneath his brown leather apron. Each downward swing of his arm was swift and powerful. The anvil rang with the heavy blows of his hammer, sending sparks darting about like little fireflies.

Homer brushed against her, reminding her with a start why she had come. “Luke?”

Arm frozen over his head, he glanced over his shoulder and his mouth curved upward. He gave the piece of steel he was working on one final whack before setting his hammer down and turning to face her.

“I didn't mean to disturb you,” she said, feeling oddly out of breath.

“Your timing is perfect. I'm done here.” He picked up a towel and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I stopped by yesterday, but Rosita said you were out on the range.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, an uneasy silence filling the air. “Your aunts came to see me and brought my favorite bonbons.” A steady parade of well-wishers had streamed to the ranch to see how she was.

Kate was touched, even though Miss Walker insisted everyone was just being nosy. Kate couldn't imagine people stopping what they were doing in Boston just to check on a neighbor, especially if they lived a distance away.

He tossed the towel on the workbench. “Leave it to my two aunts.”

Her gaze fell upon a miniature windmill on his workbench. “What a lovely windmill,” she exclaimed. “It's perfect.” She leaned in for a closer look. “It looks so real. Is it a toy?”

Her interest seemed to please him. “Not a toy, a working model. I'm trying to design one that can be oiled from the ground.” He demonstrated and the top of the windmill tilted downward.

“That's amazing.” The fine craftsmanship took her breath away. “Just think of all the time that will save. The lives and limbs. When will it be ready to market?”

“Whoa! That's gonna be awhile. It's too flimsy. It won't stand up to the wind. I'm working on another design.”

She met his gaze and yet more silence stretched between them. She felt oddly shy, awkward, like a schoolgirl talking to a boy alone for the first time.

“About last week. What happened . . .” She spoke slowly, pronouncing each word carefully as if learning to speak a foreign language. “You saved my life.” She never would have been able to find her way back to the ranch by herself. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” White teeth flashed against his tanned skin. “Come, I have something to show you.” He motioned her out the door and around back.

Homer raced ahead and waited for them in front of the small wooden shed attached to the back of Luke's shop.

Luke patted Homer. “What do you say, boy?” he asked in a conspirator's voice. “Is it okay if I show Kate what you have?”

Homer barked.

“I think that's a
yes
. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside before she could protest.

It took a moment before her eyes adjusted to the dim light. A collie lay in a corner nursing three tiny pups.

“Ohhhh, they're adorable,” she said softly.

As if agreeing, Homer barked twice. “Woof, woof.”

Luke laughed. “Have you ever seen such a proud pa?” He dropped onto his haunches and scooped up the smallest pup in a single hand. Even as the young canine was held aloft, he made little sucking sounds. Luke rose to his feet and placed the pup in her arms.

The puppy was so young he hadn't yet opened his eyes. “He feels so soft.” She glanced at Luke with a broad smile and found him watching her with a smile of his own.

“Soon as he's weaned he's yours, if you want him.”

Kate's mouth dropped open. “Mine?” She'd never owned a dog or any animal, for that matter, and didn't know what to say.

“His name is Locker.”

She held the puppy in front of her with both hands, his curling tail dangling between her wrists. “Locker?”

“After John Locke. Some philosopher Michael told me about.”

Her eyes met his and she felt a well of emotion rise inside. She handed the puppy back to him and practically stumbled out of the shed. Once outside, she quickened her pace.

Chasing her down, he grabbed her by the arm and swung her around. “Why did you take off like that?”

“You don't have to do that, Luke.”

He looked genuinely puzzled. “Do what? What don't I have to do?”

“Name dogs after philosophers.”

“I thought you'd be pleased.”

“You don't have to please me!” She shook her head and remembered her original reason for coming. “I'm afraid I led you on and I didn't mean to.”

A muscle tightened at his jaw and his gaze sharpened. “Led me on, how?”

“I was upset when you found me. I wasn't myself. Even so, that does not justify”—she couldn't say
kiss
because that sounded far too intimate—“what we did, and for that, I apologize.”

“Are you saying you're sorry you kissed me?” he asked, his voice curt.

She sucked in her breath. “There's no room in my life for anything but the ranch.”

Kissing Luke had been surprisingly pleasant but that was because she had been half out of her mind when he found her. The soft, caressing kisses she wrote about were a figment of her imagination. They promised love everlasting, and no such thing existed between a man and a woman in real life. Men weren't dependable. Kisses held no meaning. Love wasn't kind. She wanted no part of it except for the fantasies she weaved and the stories she once wrote.

“The ranch.” His lip curled upward. “It's always the ranch. Nothing else matters to you.”

“I'm sorry, Luke.” She counted on Miss Walker's spinster pact to protect her from all future heartache and disappointment. She'd had enough of both to last a lifetime. Unfortunately, she hadn't counted on meeting a man like Luke. A man so intent on pleasing her, he'd resorted to naming a dog after some historical figure he'd probably never heard of.

“I don't know what else to say . . .” She wanted to erase the pain on his face, the disbelief in his eyes, but she didn't know how. “I have obligations and responsibilities and—”