Hell's Belle (10 page)

Del didn't even
dignify all that with any kind of response. He just set his spurs to Caramel's
flanks. If he'd stayed in the ranch yard about a minute longer, he seriously
might have committed outright murder.

Jordy and his
damned smart mouth. Jordy Zoyer, who wasn't worth a plugged nickel, barely put
out a lick of work to be entitled to sleep in the bunkhouse or eat at the same
chow table with the rest of Del's men. Jordy, who'd pulled Del out of the
Truckee and revived him when Del nearly drowned as a kid.

Goddamned Jordy.

Who always saw
through people and shams. Who would dare Del to do anything, and as long as he
was there, Del knew he could do it. Knew he was infallible, damned near
invincible. Because ever since that day he'd nearly died at age ten, Jordy
Zoyer had stuck to him like glue, promising to watch Del's back. And as wild
and rampageous as the pair of them might get, Del somehow believed in the magic
of their friendship.

Even though Jordy
could drive him crazy and make him mad as hell a lot of the time.

He knew what had
just happened. He'd sensed from the second he'd spotted Jordy in the doorway
that his buddy hadn't come for some idle chat. Sidling up, feigning
disinterest, acting nonchalant…those were Zoyer's way of disarming a man. He had
that damned grin, that lazy demeanor, a way of seeming as harmless as a rattler
asleep in the sun fifty paces from you.

But he was as
lethal as one right at your feet when he chose to strike.

And Del only had
himself to blame. His warning senses told him there was a dry rattle behind
Jordy's first words, a whispery hint of danger at the first mention of the Bell
store. Del should have ordered Zoyer off to work someplace or kept his mind
locked shut. Never should have listened, particularly when Jordy had started on
the whole subject of the girl.

Del knew
exactly
what had just happened, all right.

Jordy had thrown
out another demented dare. And this one was crafty, almost perfect in its malevolence.
By tossing local gossip and Betty Lee Lydecker into the mix, he'd all but
assured Del's pride would be stinging. Guaranteed Del couldn't ignore the
implications—that Del had been partly to blame himself for Betty Lee's treachery,
for looking stupid in front of everyone in Wadsworth when she'd jilted him.

And the subtle
message that if Del failed to heed what swirled and churned around town now,
he'd end up sorry again.

Jordy knew Del
wanted the Bell girl. Damn, but he itched and burned and craved for no reason
at all. He'd been up late last night, half stiff, still thinking the should
have kissed her. Yeah, he wanted her and he'd tried to hide that fact, but
Jordy had seen anyhow.

Goddamned Jordan.

Why'd he have to go
and save Del's miserable life? So he could own it ever afterward? So he could
run it, like one of those costumed clowns at the county fair, dangling puppets
on a string? Maybe so he could make something of it, unlike his own.

"Goddamn you,
Jordy."

Del slowed as he
reached the outskirts of the town itself and the two-story Bell & Son
Emporium loomed up ahead. He'd spent a good hour calculating about money,
rehearsing in his mind how to approach the elder Bell, how he'd handle
negotiations…and now every bit of what he'd planned seemed pointless.

He was dying of
snakebite, and the only thing he feared more than death itself was the cure.

Fletcher Bell was
on the porch, handing several wrapped parcels to a fellow loading his buckboard
when Del rode up and tossed Caramel's reins over the hitching post of the
store.

"Ah, so you've
come back."

Del didn't bother
reminding the man he'd given his word, even underscored it just the day before
with his niece. He slid out of the saddle and onto the planking. "Stopped
by early yesterday. Found out you'd gone out of town. Did your niece give you
my message?"

The older man waved
as the driver headed off, then turned back to Del. "My niece and I do not
converse. If you have information of any importance related to my enterprise, you'd
best impart that directly to me or my son. You don't see mention of her on our
business name, do you? There's good reason for that."

Well, he'd
certainly opened himself up for what Del planned to "impart" on him.

"All
right," Del said amiably as he could. "Where do you want to have this
little set-to? I've got a couple of things to say and we need to review your
facts and figures."

The man stared at
Del as if just now discovering this wasn't another pup he could order around
like his worthless son. "Upstairs, shall we? That way it won't interfere
with Lucius seeing to customers." They stepped inside the store and
Fletcher waved to his son. "Lucius, you're on the counter. Twila, look
sharp in case he needs assistance."

Del followed to a
staircase partially hidden near the back storeroom, and could have sworn he
heard the older man grumbling under his breath as they took the stairs to his
living quarters. He waved toward a small kitchen table. Del kicked a wooden
chair around and plopped down, not even bothering with the courtesy of removing
his cowboy hat. He wouldn't be staying long.

"First of all,
I gave you my word I'd pay for your damages. I assume you've got a total
prepared."

"Oh,
yes." The man reached inside his coat and withdrew a small book. He consulted
it, flipping a couple pages, and looked back at Del, naming a figure that was
frankly lower than Del anticipated.

Del nodded.
"Sounds equitable. Here." He reached inside his vest for his money
pouch and peeled off a number of bills. "By the way, I don't believe I
caught your given name in all the uproar the other day." It wasn't true,
but Del was mending fences here. "Mine's Delancy, but folks mostly call me
Del. Would help if I knew your first name, so people don't think I've confused
you with your son."

"His name's
Lucius. I'm Fletcher," the fellow replied, counting out the money Del had
just given him. "I appreciate your prompt remuneration."

The way he'd said
that made Del want to pop him one right on the end of his pointed nose. Del had
met his share of sore losers, but this pompous ass excelled as a sore winner.

"Now, another
thing." Del cleared his throat and glanced around the modest living
quarters. "When I got back from selling my stock, I heard a pretty bizarre
recounting of
why
I owed you that money. And since then, I've heard a
couple of other strange rumors. Also heard that young Lucius is the one who
started them. Now why do you suppose he'd want to do that? Can't be good for
business, having local folks afraid to come within spitting distance of your
niece."

Del reached to stop
Fletcher just as he was about to tuck the counted money into his little book.
"And we both know Twila had nothing to do with what caused that pony to
shy."

Fletcher Bell
didn't flinch. "Maybe not. But are you going to tell me she also had
nothing to do with her parents drowning, or our train being robbed on the way
out here and our luggage going missing? To Lucius' dog being struck and killed
by the iceman, or any of a number of other unfortunate events that have
occurred since Twila became my ward? Oh, indeed, it sounds preposterous to lay
blame for such misadventures, doesn't it? Having my window smashed before I'd
even waited on my first customer is just typical of the kinds of calamity that
follow that child."

Del wasn't biting.
"You and your son have just as much connection to those events as she
does. Ever ponder that? Her parents were
your
kin, too."

"I fail to
understand your point, or why any of this concerns you. You've paid for the
damage your animal caused. Your debt is discharged, obligation here ended. How
I choose to regard my—"

"You
disregard
her, from what I've seen. You and your son both. You said some pretty harsh
things that morning, in front of womenfolk who'd just entered to see what the
commotion was. And your son's stoked the fire with his lies over at the barber
shop. Maybe you think I should just pretend I'm not offended because it's none
of my funeral, but I
am
offended."

"Now, see
here!"

Del shot to his
feet. "No,
you
see here. See a decent, honest town that I've lived
in all my life. Until you and your snot-nosed whelp came along, we didn't have
rumors about hexes and witchcraft. We didn't have people whispering and acting
wary of strangers. I don't like the whole feel of this place, now that you got
folks spooked and distrusting that girl. And while you're facing facts, best face
this one. I may just decide to court Twila. You got an objection to that, say
so now, and I'll mop your floor with you."

Fletcher Bell went
deathly pale and dead silent.

Del hadn't intended
to blurt it out so forcefully or threaten mayhem like that, but he was boiling
mad. Truth was, he wished he could march down those stairs and tell Twila to
pack her things. She'd be better off in a rooming house or anywhere away from
this bastard. That's how disgusted Del felt. But he merely crossed his arms
over his chest and waited.

"Well?"

"You sir, have
a reputation of sorts, from what I've learned in my relatively short residence
here. You like to flaunt yourself in the face of danger and shock the populace
with wild antics. Is this your latest idea of how to draw attention? Pretending
to woo my niece,
the girl you just described as a social outcast and
potential witch
?"

Pretty good first
punch, and Del honestly hadn't seen it coming.

"What the hell
would you care, even if that was my motive for calling on her? You don't give a
damn about that girl."

"And you do,
after meeting her exactly…once?"

Now Del could feel
steam coming out of his ears. "Since you don't 'converse,' as you called
it, you probably don't know that she walked the three miles out to my spread
yesterday afternoon. She was alone with me for a spell, up at my ranch house.
Go on and ask her if that's not the God's truth." It was stretched to its limits,
but Del figured it still met the basic qualifications.

And he'd
deliberately emphasized the part about being alone together at the house,
hoping Fletcher would jump to the erroneous conclusion that Del had already
begun sparking with his niece. That she wanted Del to court her, had welcomed
the idea.

He was mildly
surprised when Fletcher took him up on his taunt and bellowed down the open
staircase for Twila. She appeared seconds later, a wary expression in her eyes.
Del would bet she'd been listening at the bottom of that stairwell.

"Is there a
problem, Uncle?"

Jesus, but it made
Del's insides hitch just gazing at her, hearing the soft question. Jordy was
right. Up close, she was every bit as pretty as Betty Lee, in a very different
way. Twila was all soft peach, russets, and gold. Where Betty Lee had been
bright and spring like, Twila invigorated like a whiff of crisp autumn air,
with its hint of approaching winter.

She was also
accustomed to being blamed and chastised. So accustomed to it, the first words
out of her mouth were already defensive. Del honestly doubted she'd ever been
summoned by her uncle for a heartening reason. The bastard had spent months,
probably years, cowing her. Destroying her self-esteem and shredding her pride.

That hurt.

Worse than a kick
from a bucking horse, because a man could see that coming and understand the
horse had to defend itself. But here was a gal who couldn't defend herself. The
very men around her who should have protected and cherished her were the ones
ripping her down.

And Del knew she
didn't deserve it. Any of it.

Maybe she didn't
deserve what he was about to do, either, but he'd be damned if he'd let her
take crap from the bastard even one more time.

"Your uncle
doesn't believe you and I were alone together out at my ranch house yesterday
afternoon. He thinks I'm lying to him. But my men saw you out there. And we
were alone for a time, just the two of us, in the shadows of my porch. Weren't
we, Twila? Tell him." Del's eyes riveted on hers.

Trust me, girl.
I've got no right to ask it of you, but follow where I'm leading. Please.

She studied his
gaze for a long second, then dropped her eyes as well as her voice, blushing
profusely. "Only for a little while, Uncle."

"A little
while? What the hell were you even
doing
there?"

She raised her head
and Del wanted to whoop in triumph. Her amber eyes were hot now, defiant.
"I walked out there. And I won't apologize for having gone. Nothing
improper went on. It was only a harmless kiss."

Del blinked. Did
she just say—?

Fletcher went
purple. "You walked out to a horse ranch full of randy cowpokes? A
harmless kiss? You worthless little harlot! I sent the preacher to straighten
you out, and instead of falling to your knees in prayer, what do you do, but go
sullying yourself like some common piece of trash!"