Liz Ireland (15 page)

Perhaps she would never know. Letting loose another long sigh, she scooted the rocking chair over to the window. She was not going to read those letters again, she promised herself. There was no point to it.

But her fingers itched to leaf through them one more time, to search for clues she already was aware weren’t to be found. Reluctantly, but drawn as if by a magnet, she reached down and opened the bag, pushed aside the white shirt and picked up the lavender envelopes.

She knew what was in them, so what would be the harm in looking at them again?

Just as she was untying the neat little ribbon around the envelopes, a commotion started coming from the direction of Beasley’s. Diverted from her pointless snooping, Cecilia leaned forward and peered out the window toward the general store, where a long rickety wagon had just pulled up. Two women and a handful of girls surrounded the vehicle so that Cecilia couldn’t tell what was going on. She tried leaning her upper body farther through the window to see past the obstructions.

Suddenly, Bea Beasley broke through the crowd of people by the store and began running down the street, followed of course by her dog, who was barking even as his mistress yelled out like the town crier. “Mrs. Hudspeth! Miss Summertree!” she hollered over and over as she sped toward the house.

Cecilia heard the front porch door beneath her window open and bang closed, then Dolly and Buck appeared below. Dolly shaded her eyes with her cupped hand as Bea, winded, with brown braids frizzling out of their tight confines, finally delivered her big news.

“Mr. Pendergast is back!”

Cecilia was so taken off guard at first that she felt her knees buckle and feared she would drop right out of the window onto Buck’s head. Her sudden intake of breath—signaling equal parts happiness and horror—was enough to make the other three spot her.

“Miss Summertree!” With the sun glinting off her glasses Bea shouted joyously again, “Mr. Pendergast is back!”

“I don’t believe it,” Cecilia mumbled to herself, trying to still her heart’s hammering. Why on earth would that man come back here?

Bea was too jubilant to pay Cecilia’s shock much mind. “He’s back,” she raved, “and he’s an honest-to-goodness hero!”

B
easley was elated. He himself drove the wagon up to Dolly’s boardinghouse and oversaw the procedure of hauling Pendergast up to the schoolteacher’s bedroom—which now took on the appearance of a sacred shrine. Everyone in town wanted to come see the citizen of Annsboro who had risked his life to save two women and four German schoolgirls from vicious bandits.

And,
Dolly insisted several times in a very adamant voice, the man had been half-delirious already when he’d done the heroic deed!

Cecilia would have been more indignant at this newest bit of chicanery if initial word on Pendergast’s condition hadn’t been so dire. She had to push through the gathered crowd at her bedroom door and swat away the four adoring blond girls just to get a look at him, and even then two stout women were standing guard on either side of the bed.

Cecilia ignored their disapproving glances and looked down at her old adversary, stunned. His normally dark skin was waxy and pale, and judging by the size of the bandage wrapped around his middle, she couldn’t believe the man was still alive at all.

He certainly wasn’t faking this time.

She dropped down on the bed, feeling drained, and heard one of the women who had brought Pendergast back to town make a clucking noise. Dolly rushed over to assure the woman Cecilia’s presence at the hero’s side was all right.

“Mrs. Randall, they’re almost sweethearts,” Dolly whispered to the woman, then sent Cecilia an encouraging little smile. Really, she was going to have to set Dolly straight on this matter.

“Don’t worry, Cecilia,” Dolly continued, “they say the doctor said his condition looks worse than it is.”

It looked very bad.

“Just a flesh wound, really,” the matron announced. “That’s what the doctor in Buffalo Gap said. He gave him a draft of laudanum for the pain.”

Cecilia shook her head. “I don’t understand...why did he come back here?”

“He kept saying ‘Annsboro’ over and over, so we decided we owed it to the man to bring him. He saved our lives.”

The room fell silent as once again they were treated to the whole story of the slow wagon to Fredericksburg, the two bandits, Pendergast’s heroic defense of the six women and the way he had killed one desperado and routed the other. Mrs. Randall’s voice shook with emotion, and the girls wept fresh tears as she recalled the way their savior, wounded and in excruciating pain, had even managed to stop the crazed horses after their driver had died.

Even Cecilia was awestruck. Though a string of questions a mile long ticked through her mind, she couldn’t help but feel a welling of pride for what this man had done.

Beasley, the man who for two days straight had not been able to get the words
Yankee thief
off his lips, proclaimed loudly, “I always said the man had an outstanding character.”

Dolly nodded. “He has tidy habits, too.”

A regular saint, Cecilia thought grudgingly. Though, as she looked down on his strong jaw, dark with stubble, and those lips that had kissed her so passionately, if not completely sincerely, she had to admit she would have been sad never to have seen him again. Very sad...but not devastated, she assured herself, feeling somehow buoyed by the distinction. The fear that had pierced through her heart when she’d heard he’d been shot was now safely hidden away in the recesses of her memory.

“Well, I suppose the man needs his rest,” Beasley announced, and he and Dolly proceeded to herd the people downstairs.

“I hope you’ll all stay for dinner,” Dolly told the visiting women. “I’m sure there’s plenty of room for you here to stay the night, too. I have a room off my kit—” Dolly stopped in mid-sentence, looking at Cecilia. “Oh, I forgot, that’s
your
room.”

Cecilia fought the resentment she felt at being tossed out again—and then to have even her little room promised away! Oh, well.
He did save those four German schoolgirls,
she reminded herself with a sigh. “I suppose I’ll find somewhere else to sleep,” she told Dolly.

“You’re such a dear,” Dolly said as she directed the women and girls out of the room. She stopped at the door. “You won’t mind watching him through dinner, will you?”

“Not at all,” Cecilia assured her. She intended to keep an even closer eye on him this time.

“I figured not.” Dolly sent her a sly wink, then looked conspiratorially from her to Pendergast and back again. “I just know you must be so happy he’s back!”

Cecilia grumbled in reply, but stood her post through dinner and a good deal longer, leaving the sickroom only for time enough to eat something in the kitchen and take a brisk walk in the cool night air. She attempted to clear her thoughts of the conflicting feelings she had, yet her mind clung like a burr to the center of her confusion—Pendergast.

Did no one else think it strange that their mild-mannered schoolteacher had turned sharpshooter overnight? And why in tarnation had the man bought a cheap seat on a wagon going to Fredericksburg? Was that where he was really from? If so, why would he have wanted to come back to Annsboro? If someone was offering
her
a free wagon ride to anywhere, there were a lot better places she could think of to go!

She couldn’t wait until she would be able to ask him...not that she expected him to be truthful. But after two days of fretting and boredom, she had to admit that she was even looking forward to hearing what lies he had to offer. In fact, she just wanted to talk to him, to see those dark eyes looking at her once more.

When she returned, Dolly was at Pendergast’s side, but gladly relinquished the post to her friend. It made perfect sense that she would have night duty, Cecilia decided, since she had no bed to sleep in. She pushed aside the little straight-backed chair that had somehow been designated for the nurse and pulled the big rocker next to the bed.

Pendergast lay across the bed, his body positioned at a slight angle to accommodate his height. He still had a sickly pallor that she found a little frightening. But the more she looked at Pendergast, whose strong, muscled arms lay over the bedcovers—which only covered him from mid-chest down—the more she felt reassured that he would pull through. It didn’t seem possible that something could sap the life out of anyone that impressively built.

Yet a bullet very nearly had. Her eye caught sight of something black and glistening next to the bed. She reached down and picked up a Colt revolver, measuring its heavy weight in her hand. Suddenly she shuddered.

She wasn’t prissy when it came to guns. But it occurred to her suddenly that mysterious Mr. Pendergast might be something a little more sinister than a mere fraud. What if he wasn’t a hero at all, but an outlaw?

Once again, Cecilia took in the dark face, the set jaw, the long, lean, muscular body. Then she remembered those eyes again, and felt her pulse in her wrist jump in alarm. Maybe the bandits attacking the wagon hadn’t been a coincidence at all! Maybe he knew the man he’d killed and the one he’d wounded—maybe they were the reason he’d had to sneak out of Annsboro in the middle of the night in the first place.

She swallowed hard against the dryness in her throat. She couldn’t help remembering the times he’d kissed her...and she’d responded so enthusiastically! She burned with fresh embarrassment, and curiosity, and held tighter to the gun.

One thing was certain—Pendergast wasn’t going to slip out tonight.

* * *

Jake woke up to the feeling of cold steel against his ribs and pushed himself up suddenly. Pain burned through his middle, and he collapsed against the downy pillow, gritting his teeth.

If he was lying in feathers, he assured himself, chances were Gunter wasn’t anywhere nearby.

He swallowed, looking up at the ceiling, trying to get his bearings without putting much physical effort into it. It was morning. The soft bed felt as if it was his old bed at Dolly’s. Although that possibility just seemed too good to be true, the familiar weight and feel of the bedcovers seemed to confirm it. How had he gotten here? Bits and snatches of the previous day ran through his mind; the wagon, the bandits, the gunfire. After that it was all pain.

There was a flowery smell in the air, a scent that was reminiscent of the best part of Dolly’s...Cecilia.

He turned his head and saw the crown of a silky blond head and smiled. Cecilia was sprawled in the most uncomfortable-looking position he’d ever seen. She was sitting in the rocking chair, which was tilted so far forward it probably looked as if it was on tiptoe, but her torso and arms were flung against the mattress of his bed. One hand cradled her head; the other gently gripped his revolver. In sleep she wore the sweetest secretive smile, even though she was poking a gun at him.

Jake closed his eyes and slowly gave thanks to whoever up there was looking out for him. By some miracle, he’d made it to the right place.

Risking the pain it would cause, Jake reached over and gingerly disconnected the gun from her hand. Just as he had dislodged her last finger, she stirred and looked up suddenly, her blue eyes wide and wary in the morning light.

“You’re awake!” she cried.

“Nothing a man enjoys more than awakening to the snuggly feeling of steel against his ribs,” Jake quipped. “Unless it’s seeing a beautiful woman in his bed.”

That beautiful woman sat up so fast she nearly sent her rocking chair flying out from under her. Two dark stains appeared on her cheeks. “I was just watching you.”

Jake laughed as forcefully as he thought was healthy. “Yes, you looked very attentive.”

She crossed her arms, sat back and rocked bad-temperedly. “Fine thanks I get for all the concern I’ve expended on you.”

He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Were you worried, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, tilting her chin up. “Yes. If it makes you feel better, I was worried you might try to sneak off again.”

He hadn’t forgotten how pretty she was, he thought, as he took in her pale skin and bow mouth and those beautiful blue eyes, but memory couldn’t compare to being with her in the flesh.

“Just seeing you makes me feel better, Cecilia,” he said.

“Well, it shouldn’t, because I intend to see you don’t get away with whatever you’re trying to pull over on this town.”

“And just what would that be?” he asked, hoping the playfulness in his voice would belie the worry he felt. Had she figured out something? Had he talked in his sleep, or left something incriminating behind?

“Just—” She looked down at her hand, and her eyes flew open in alarm. “Where’s the gun?”

Jake pulled the Colt from under the covers. “You mean this?” he asked innocently.

“How—”

He chuckled. “You’ve got some lessons to learn about staying alert.”

Her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. “Yes, and I bet you could teach me a thing or two.”

Uh-oh. It sounded as if her suspicions were coming closer to the actual truth now. “Well...the first thing would be not to doze off.”

Her lips pursed into a frown. “Don’t try to be cute. I know who you are, Pendergast.”

Jake froze. Great. He would finally get discovered when he was laid up sick in bed with a hole in him the size of Nebraska! “All right,” he challenged, “who am I?”

Their stubborn, wary gazes locked and held. Cecilia broke first, then she groaned in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know!”

“Not much better at bluffing than you are at staying on the lookout, are you?”

She started rocking again—rocking in a choppy staccato rhythm and shooting him a skeptical gaze. “Judging from the way you reacted when I said I did know, though, I’d say you must be something pretty bad.”

Jake hooted. “Cecilia, if I was as dangerous a character as you say, it wouldn’t be likely that I would put up with your needling. Especially when I’m armed and you’re not.”

She gasped in outrage. “Is that a threat?”

He frowned. “No.”

The room was silent for a moment as Jake watched Cecilia looking out the window. She seemed to be plotting something under that adorable mop of blond hair. Her lips turned up in a devious smile.

“Who’s Rosalyn?” she asked, turning quickly to watch his reaction to her sudden question.

Rosalyn? Rosalyn? Jake’s mind whirred muzzily, trying to find his connection to the familiar name. The letters!

He grimaced, as though somehow the sound of the woman’s name caused him pain. Maybe it would divert Cecilia’s attention from how long it had taken him to remember. “Rosalyn is my sister.”

“Why were you going to Fredericksburg?”

“I had some business there.”

“What kind?”

He sent her a flat stare. “Personal business.”

“Personal business so urgent you couldn’t wait for daylight to leave?”

Jake rolled his eyes, but his heart was thumping nervously. She wasn’t going to drop the issue this time. “Just tell me this,” he asked her, “have you managed to convince the whole town I’m a desperate character?”

“Ha!” she cried.

What did that mean?

“All I want to know is, why were you so eager to get back here?”

That was an easy one; he wouldn’t even have to lie. A broad smile pulled across his lips. “I wanted to dance with you.”

She stared disbelievingly at him, her lips parted in surprise. At least he’d managed to catch her off guard again. “I mean it,” she insisted. “I’m curious to know why, since you’d gone to so much trouble to sneak away, you’d come back.”

Jake blinked solemnly and ignored her probing. “Which do you prefer, waltzes? Reels?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Jigs? Mexican hat dances?”

“Waltzes,” she said with some irritation. “Now tell me the truth.”

“I just did.” The rocking chair stilled, and as their gazes met, color appeared again in her cheeks. He grinned. “You’re beautiful when you blush, Cecilia.”

“I think that gunshot wound must somehow have affected your brain, Pendergast!”

“Maybe it just made me see what’s important.”

“Dancing?” She let out a scoffing sneer. “It’s not likely you’ll be doing that anytime soon.”

“Oh, well.” Jake raised his hands off the covers in a helpless gesture. “At least the desire to seems to have gotten me back where I wanted to be.”