Dorothy Garlock (18 page)

His mind the last several days had been plenty active. It had gone over again and again the events of Sunday afternoon. Murphy Donovan had eyed him with suspicion. No doubt the reason was that Boone had told him that he had been in law enforcement. To Corbin that meant the man had something to hide. It was strange that Donovan had not even thanked him for preventing Carter from walking off with his daughter.

For the last couple of nights, Corbin had lain in his bed and stared up at the ceiling of his room, faintly lit by a street-light in front of the hotel, and envisioned the face of a slim, brown-haired girl with an endearing smile.

He didn’t understand himself. Here he was—a man of twenty-seven years interested in a sheltered young girl not much more than twenty. As yet, he wasn’t ready to admit that he was enamored of her. If not, he asked himself, why in hell had the lines of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem lingered in the back of his mind?
But we loved with a love that was more than love—I and my Annabel Lee.

The only way to find out whether this was love was to see Annabel again. He hoped that when he did, he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. Surely Murphy Donovan wouldn’t object to his coming out to see Jack, and while there he just might come to a better understanding of the man who was Annabel’s father.

Corbin passed the Carter place. A woman who was hanging clothes on the line stopped to watch him pass. Down the road a quarter of a mile was the lane leading to a square white house with a porch stretching across its front. Going slowly to keep from stirring up dust, Corbin drove the car up the lane toward the house, wondering what kind of welcome he’d get from Murphy Donovan.

Boone came out onto the porch and waited for him to stop the car, then came down the steps to lean in the window on the passenger side before Corbin could get out.

“What can we do for you?” Boone asked in a voice that was anything but friendly.

“Good afternoon to you too.” Corbin noticed that the man looked much younger without the whiskers.

“Guess if ya can drive, ya’ll be leavin’ soon.”

“Are you wanting to be rid of me, Boone, after all we’ve been through together?”

“Biggest mistake I ever made. Ort to a let ya lay there and bleed to death,” he growled.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just being your usual ornery self. I owe you, Boone,” Corbin said pleasantly. “I’ve been thinking of ways to pay you back. What say I move out here and give you a hand…farming this big place?”

“Whata ya mean by that?”

“As I said, I owe you. I always pay my bills.”

“Horsecock! Ya wantin’ to see Jack or what?”

“I want to get out and stretch my leg.”

“Ya don’t see me stoppin’ ya, do ya?”

“I’m thinking you might try. You’re like a mule with a burr under its tail every time I see you. Are you ever civil?” Corbin got out of the car as Annabel came out onto the porch.

“Hello, Mr. Appleby.”

“Howdy, ma’am.”

“When you finish your business with Boone, come in for a glass of tea.”

“I’d like that—that is, if Boone doesn’t shoot me with that gun he’s got under his shirt.”

“Boone! Why are you carrying a gun?” Annabel exclaimed, eyeing him warily.

“’Cause I might find a snake that needs shootin’,” he answered belligerently.

“Well for goodness’ sake. Come in, Mr. Appleby. You too, Boone. I’ll put extra sugar in your tea in hopes of sweetening you up. You’ve been like a cat on a hot griddle since Papa left.”

So Donovan wasn’t here. He was in luck.

Behind Annabel’s back, Corbin grinned at a scowling Boone, then followed her through the neat but sparsely furnished house.

“Sit down at the table, Mr. Appleby,” Annabel said when they reached the kitchen. “I’ll call Jack in. He’ll want to visit with you.”

“Fix the tea,” Boone said from behind him. “I’ll get the boy.”

The table where Corbin sat was covered with a white linen cloth edged with crocheted lace. It looked out of place in the primitive kitchen with the wood-burning stove and kerosene lamps, as did the dainty bowl of lilies of the valley that sat in the middle of it.

A shrill whistle issued from the porch, Boone’s signal to Jack. Boone came immediately back into the kitchen.

“Want me to chip ice?”

“No, sit down. I’ve got a chunk for the pitcher.”

Corbin watched Annabel. Boone watched Corbin. Then Jack bounded up on the porch and burst into the kitchen and both pairs of eyes turned to him. He skidded to a stop.

“Oh. I thought something…was…well—Hello, Corbin.”

“Howdy, Jack.”

Jack looked down at his bare chest. “Oh, gosh! Sorry, Miss Annabel. I forgot to grab up my shirt. I’ll run back—”

“No need. Here’s one of Spinner’s.” Annabel handed the boy a shirt from a pile of folded clothes on the ironing board at the end of the kitchen. She was aware that Corbin Appleby was watching her closely, and it made her nervous.

Mercy me! I hope that he doesn’t notice how nervous I am. My hands are shaking and my tongue feels like it’s thick as a bed slat.

Corbin was unaware of either of those things. It was difficult for him to take his eyes from her. He found her looks fascinating—far more fragile than he remembered. He had been puzzled by her, puzzled by his own reaction to her. And the fact that he had not been able to shake her image puzzled him all the more.

Chapter
13

D
O YOU TAKE SUGAR IN YOUR TEA, Mr. Appleby?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Neither do I. Boone, however, takes a little tea with his sugar.” She glanced at the scowling man, then uttered a soft, teasing laugh.

“How long do you plan to stick around?” Boone asked bluntly.

“I’ve not decided. I like it here. It would be a good place to plant roots.” Corbin’s eyes flicked to Annabel and saw that she was watching him intently and was well aware that he was goading Boone. He wondered how her eyes could look so green.

“Harrumpt!” Boone snorted. “Tell that to the man behind the barn.”

“Miss Annabel and her father are moving to St. Louis,” Jack said in the silence that followed.

“Leaving soon?” With a feeling of acute disappointment, Corbin’s eyes went to Annabel.

“Papa’s gone to make arrangements.” She looked down at the table as she spoke.

Corbin felt the full force of her eyes when she looked up again and encountered his gaze. He knew immediately, sensing the hint of sadness in her eyes, that the move was not to her liking.

“Have you been to St. Louis, Mr. Appleby?”

“Passed through there, is all. I’m not much for the big city. This tea hits the spot.” Corbin drank from the tall glass, then turned to Jack. “Are you staying on until they move?”

“I’ll stay as long as Miss Annabel wants me to. Boone isn’t moving. I might even stay longer if I can give him a hand. I’m going to stick around here until I find my glove.”

Corbin’s eyes swung to the man sitting at the end of the table. “Going to take up farming, Boone?”

“Maybe. Ya got any objections?”

“No. You’ll get along well with a team of mules. You’re about as stubborn as they are.”

“Bullfoot!”

Annabel let out a sigh of exasperation, annoyed by Boone’s rudeness.

Corbin spoke to Jack. “They have ball games in Henderson on Saturday evenings and again on Sunday after the concerts in the park. We could be lucky enough to spot your glove.”

“I’m going to beat the daylights out of whoever took it.” Jack’s voice rose in anger.

“Whoever took it will probably not be the one using it.” Corbin’s voice was calm and reasonable.

“He’s just as guilty if he bought stolen property.”

“Maybe not. He might not know that it was stolen.”

“How’ll ya know if it’s your glove?” Boone asked.

“I’ll know if I see it, and besides, I burned my initials on the inside of the strap.”

“That should be identification enough.”

At the sound of a car, Boone pushed back his chair and went quickly to the window.

“It’s Spinner.”

“Tell him to come in,” Annabel called as Boone went out the door. “Spinner works here…for my father,” she explained to Corbin.

As soon as Boone left them, Corbin invited Annabel to go with him and Jack to the ball game Saturday evening. He didn’t know if he’d get another chance to ask without Boone hovering over her.

Color rose in Annabel’s cheeks. Corbin wondered if he had spoken too bluntly, then was relieved by her answer.

“I’d like to go.” The words came from not-quite-steady lips. Her fingers plucked at the lace on the pocket of her dress.

“Good.” Corbin smiled with his mouth closed, creases appearing on each side of it. “Maybe between the two of us we can hold this wild man in check if he spots his glove.”

Annabel liked Corbin’s face, his steady eyes and the way he had of smiling at times as if remembering something pleasant. A tightness crept into her throat, and she thought how foolish she was to believe that he might be interested in her. He had asked her to go to the ball game because he would be driving out to get Jack, and it was the polite thing to do.

He was silent for so long that a queer little shock of something almost like panic went through her.
Had he asked her on impulse and was sorry that she’d agreed to go?
To cover her confusion, she got up to peer out the window to see that Spinner and Boone were standing beside the truck.

“You should hear Miss Annabel play the violin,” Jack said.

“Jack, I swear!” Annabel returned to the table. “You’re a regular…blabbermouth.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words. On seeing the affection she had for the boy, Corbin felt something warm and exciting deep in his belly.

He had not been mistaken about her.

“It’s not a secret,” Jack protested. “Corbin heard you tell about the conductor wanting you to play with his orchestra.” He grinned at Corbin. “Sometimes after supper she plays just for me and Boone. Maybe she’ll play while you’re here.”

“And maybe not,” she said flippantly with a toss of her head to hide her confusion.

The truck started up. Annabel went to the door to see Spinner moving it up to the barn and knew that they were going to load something they didn’t want Corbin Appleby to see. What were they up to now? Although nervous chills ran up her back, she had a smile on her face when she turned her back to speak to the two men at the table.

“Jack, do we have enough ice to make a freezer of ice cream?”

“I don’t know.” Jack got up and lifted the lid on the icebox. “I got this chunk yesterday. We would need most of it.”

“That’s all right. We can get another chunk tomorrow. We’ve got eggs and milk. I’ll stir up the custard if you’ll fire up the stove so I can cook it.”

“What’s up?” Boone had asked as soon as he reached Spinner’s truck.

“Some city boys are nosin’ ’round up in the hills.”

“Lookin’ for the stash?”

“They ain’t there lookin’ for goobers.”

“Murphy’s gone to get the money.”

“He come by and told me. I need a few sticks of that dynamite from the barn. The charge is set at the cave. They get close to it, I’ll blow it to hell and back. I need the sticks in case they get to nosin’ ’round my place.”

“How many?”

“Men? Four, so far.”

“Godamighty! Don’t kill any of ’em ’less it’s you or them. Did they find the mules?”

“Naw. They’re up at my place. If they mess with ’em, they’ll get a blastin’ stick up their ass. The wagon’s in the cave.”

“I’d come give ya a hand, but Murphy had a run-in with one of the Carters, and I don’t dare leave Annabel.”

“He told me. Who’s here?”

“Appleby, the man who was shot up near your place.”

“Ain’t he a lawman?”

“Used to be. I think he’s sweet on Annabel. Hell of a lot of good it’ll do him. Murphy’s movin’ her to St. Louis.”

“Poor little gal. Murphy’s been a-draggin’ her from pillar to post.”

“He says it’s the last time.” Boone’s eyes strayed to the woods that separated them from the Carters’. Tess hadn’t come out the previous night, and he was worried about her.

“Hell, I don’t believe it. Murphy likes the excitement of outwittin’ the Feds.”

“I’m goin’ to try and buy this place from him.”

“Ya are?”

“He says he’s sellin’. I can rake up what he paid for it.”

Spinner took off his battered old felt hat, slapped it against his thigh to rid it of dust, then put it back on.

“I done told him I’m through after this. It’s got too hot for me. Never thought ya’d quit on him.”

“Hell. I ain’t quittin’ on him. I don’t want no truck with them big torpedoes in Chicago. I want to settle down and not have to worry ‘bout someone bustin’ in and bustin’ my head.”

“Why here?”

“Why not here? I ain’t a city man.”

“I ain’t either. Get them sticks so I can get back.”

“Why didn’t Spinner come in?” Annabel asked as soon as Boone came back to the house.

“He had to get back.”

“Isn’t it your turn to—”

“No. I’m staying here.” Boone’s dark eyes flicked to Corbin and saw that he was listening to something Jack was saying. “Come out on the porch,” he said in a low tone to Annabel and picked up the water bucket.

Annabel followed him to the porch. “I swear to goodness, Boone. It’s rude to leave a guest.”

“He ain’t no guest. He’s a lawman,” Boone growled. “Be careful what ya say and stop bein’ so damn friendly to him or he’ll stay all night.”

“What do you think he can do, for heaven’s sake?”

“He can notify the Feds, is what he can do.”

“About what, Boone? Even I don’t know what I could tell the Feds. I’ve asked him to stay for supper. Jack and I are making ice cream,” she said defiantly. “And you…behave.”

“Holy hell! Why’d you do that for? Murphy won’t like it.”

“Papa isn’t here, and I asked him because I wanted to.”

“If yore pa comes home while he’s here, look out. He told me to keep him away from you.”

“Why, Boone? Why?” Her large green eyes filled with tears. “The two of you treat me like I didn’t have any brains at all. I’m tired of it! I’m tired of staying put where you tell me. I’m tired of not having any friends.”