Marshal of Hel Dorado (8 page)

 
    
“Jason?” Sam frowned. Jason Kane was an
attorney. He’d gone back East to school, studied in Boston and New York before
returning to Texas and the Flying K. Now he covered their family’s business
interests, traveling around the state, as he was needed. “I thought he was in
Yellow River.”

 
    
“He was. He is due back sometime today, I
expect by sundown. He’s not a fan of the saddle and is likely using the
buckboard, which will slow him some, but I’ve delayed dinner until seven.”

 
    
An invitation to dine at Mr. Kane’s table
required a wash up and proper dress. While Sunday best wasn’t required, most of
the ranch hands kept at least one nice suit after their first year,
understanding that boots, work wear and sweat were not welcome at Miss Molly’s
table.

 
    
The family had dressed for supper for all
of Sam’s life. That was how Miss Molly was raised and she imparted that
requirement onto her children and after her passing, Jed continued to enforce
it.

 
    
“There’s nothing to discuss, Pa. I caught
her in the bank, red-handed and the gold is gone.” Sam turned his attention back
to the mare. It was better to keep his hands steady and his temper even.
Particularly if his father was going to take up Scarlett’s cause.

 
    
“Then I expect you have the gold back,
seeing as how you caught her in the bank.”

 
    
And that was the crux of it. Sam didn’t
have the gold back. “She wasn’t alone.” Sam sighed, trading the cloth for a
gentle brush and began stroking it over the mare’s neck and down her flanks.
Corona leaned into the brush, nickering as he found sensitive spots and
lathered attention to them. “There was a whole gang, the others left her when
they were spotted. Kid is leading the posse chasing them down.”

 
    
“Hmmm.”

 
    
“What?” If there was one sound that gave
Sam pause it was the long exhale of breath that indicated his father was mulling
a problem over.

 
    
“Sounds to me like she is a victim. What
lady do you know robs a bank willy-nilly? And if she was with a group, maybe
she was their prisoner. You might have done her a favor by scooping her out of
their hands.”

 
    
Sam fixed a stare over Corona’s back and
looked at the wood. There were two new boards where old ones had been damaged
over the years. They were fresher, greener and not yet painted. Likely a job
that was waiting for the summer heat to lull in the few weeks before autumn rain
would come daily.

 
    
“Pa, she was working with them. I saw her
hand off one of the last bags to the others, she ushered him out and told him
to come back for her. That doesn’t sound like she was under much coercion to
me.”

 
    
“Mayhap. You have to remember, ladies are a
gentle species. As a rule, they work hard to care for the men folk in their
lives. If she’s mixed up with the wrong element, then it's our duty to see to
it she has better options.” Jebediah Kane was no fool, but he did have his
blind spots.

 
    
Sam patted Corona’s neck, finishing off her
grooming and dropping the brush into a bucket. He stepped out of the stall and
accepted three squares of hay his father was already passing to him. He dropped
them into the feed bucket and checked the water one of the hands had carried in
when he led Corona inside.

 
    
Thankfully, Micah had taken their father’s
words to heart and gotten back to work.

 
    
“Pa.” Sam was tired, his muscles tight from
the long ride and the torment of holding her against him left him aching
elsewhere.

 
    
“What? Why would you bring her out here if
you didn’t expect me to get involved?” It was a fair question. The Kane name
curried a lot of favor and the Kane influence stretched further than that. His
father was well respected both in Dorado and throughout the state. If he wanted
to make something happen, he would whether Sam liked it or not.

 
    
“Because Ryker and his boys are already
whipping the town into a frenzy. They’ll be coming for her to string her up.
She was safer here at the ranch than she would be in town.”

 
    
Jed’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching
tight until a muscle began to tick in his cheek.

 
    
Rousing his father’s temper wasn’t the best
plan, but Sam needed him to see sense.

 
    
“Not to mention if her gang does turn around
to come for her, I wanted her out of sight.

 
    
There’s only me, Cob and Kid at the office.
It’s safer for the town and for Scarlett if she isn’t where people are
expecting to find her.”

 
    
His father nodded once. “I’ll call the boys
back from town and double up the sentry rides for a few nights. Ryker’s an
idiot, but I’ll shoot him if he shows up on my land intending harm to our
guest.”

 
    
“Pa—”

 
    
“See to your saddle and yourself. Then come
up to the house for lunch.” His father was already striding up the long aisle
in the barn, leaving Sam gaping after him. Corona nickered at him from the
stall and he sighed.

 
    
“Yeah, I knew better.” But reached for the
saddle and bridle regardless. He would trust his father and Lena to at least
keep Scarlett at the house until he finished.

 
    
It was nearing the noon hour by the time
Sam made his way back from the pond. He’d found clean clothes, a towel and a
bar of soap waiting for him next to the stall. Subtle was not his father’s
nature. He stored his freshly oiled and repaired saddle and bridle before
carrying the rest to one of the washing ponds. Hidden in a grotto of trees, he
stripped out of his sweaty clothes and dove into the water. He swam, listening
to the lazy hum of summer bees gathering and the occasional bird cry.

 
    
The hum of life surrounded him on all
sides. Children playing at the cabins, women chattering as they tended to their
vegetable gardens and laundry, the men riding in or out on their way or coming
back from tasks that needed their attention.

 
    
Farther away, horses nickered and whinnied
sunning themselves and grazing in their off hours. It was life at the Flying K
and it soothed the frayed edges of his temper. He soaped himself, paying
attention to washing all traces of sweat and dirt from his hair and face. He
needed a shave, but since there’d been no straight razor with the soap and
towel, he’d have to make do without one for now.

 
    
He dried himself in the sun, dressing in
the familiar breeches and pressed shirts that his father expected at a meal
table before pulling his own boots back on. They were dusty, dented and worn
from use, but like the lack of a shave, they would have to do.

 
    
At the main house, he dropped his dirty
clothes bundle in the laundry pile. He kept other gear here, so when he needed
to change to ride back to town, he would take those and pick up this lot on his
next visit.

 
    
He finger combed his hair and walked
through the house to the dining room. He was tempted to check on Scarlett, but
the meal bell had already rung. By the second ring, he could kiss his hope of
food goodbye. His father waited a table for no one and if you weren’t seated on
time, you didn’t eat until the next meal.

 
    
Still, it shocked him to walk into his
mother’s dining room with its imported English oak table and chairs, the fine
china carried by covered wagon from the sea ports in Charleston to find
Scarlett installed at his father’s right hand with Micah sitting in close
attendance on her right.

 
    
At least he thought it was Scarlett.

 
    
Her wild mane of red hair had been tamed
into an elegant pile on the back of her head.

 
    
She’d traded her gingham shirt and boy
britches for a dress of green velvet, cinched tightly under her bosom and
displaying a healthy amount of creamy cleavage for admiration.

 
    
But it was the smile, the wide open,
sunshine that lit up her face that struck him in the solar plexus. She was
looking at Jed with such a warm, good humor that he felt an uncomfortable tug
of an emotion he barely recognized souring in his belly.

 
    
Jed noticed him before Micah or Scarlett
and jerked his chin towards the chair on his left.

 
    
“Stop standing in the door like you need an
invitation, Samuel. Sit down. We’ve waited this meal long enough.”

 
    
Much to his disappointment, Scarlett’s
sunny smile winked out as though smothered by dark clouds at Jed’s words. She
looked from his father to him before focusing on her plate. Red suffused the
pale skin of her neck and spread like a stain across the creamy, exposure of
flesh.

 
    
Was she embarrassed that he caught her
enjoying herself? Good. The grumpy thought wasn’t at all like him, but he set
his hat on the stand to the right of the entranceway and walked around the
table. He was tempted to kick Micah out of his chair, but it wasn’t worth the
fight with his father to be so rude.

 
    
Instead, he sat and nodded to Scarlett, as
polite as he could muster. “Pa. Micah.” But he didn’t say anything to her. She
was a prisoner dammit, not a guest and the last thing she should be doing was
sit down to a meal with his family.

 
    
A boot caught his shin under the table and
Sam jerked his gaze to his father. He saw the warning in his eyes and sighed.

 
    
“Miss Scarlett.”

 
    
“Marshal.” Her voice was the same, low,
throaty whisper he recalled from their ride, but it seemed softer, gentler
somehow in the warm afternoon sun.

 
    
Miss Annabeth and Lena bustling into the
room preempted further conversation. As if on cue, all three Kane men rose to
their feet. When a lady stood, so did the Kanes, it didn’t matter who the
ladies were. Scarlett watched the pageantry of the meal being served with a
bewildered expression.

 
    
Miss Annabeth set a plate in front of her
first, loaded up with hot chicken, mashed potatoes and greens. She set a basket
of fresh bread in the center and Lena placed two more plates in front of Jed
and Micah, a fourth was quickly fetched for Sam.

 
    
The men remained on their feet until the
plates were settled and the women smiled. Miss Annabeth paused to give Sam an
affectionate buss on the cheek. “Is good to have you home, Mister Samuel. Now,
all of you eat. My Lena’s made some fresh apple pies and I’m of a mind to let
you each have a slice if you do our meal justice.”

 
    
“Will you be joining us Miss Annabeth?” Sam
didn’t have to pretend the desire for the older woman to share their table.
Like his mother, Miss Annabeth hailed from Virginia. She’d come west with Molly
when Molly married Jed Kane. But as a wedding present, his father had purchased
Miss Annabeth and granted her freedom. Still, the woman insisted on coming west
with Molly, she’d been a nursemaid to Molly her whole life and when Molly
passed, she’d raised Molly’s boys as though they were her own.

 
    
“Not today, sweet boy.” She patted his
cheek. “Our Lena has been sparking with one of the new hands and they’ve a mind
for a picnic.”

 
    
Lena coughed, dropping her eyes as Sam
looked at her with interest. Lena was a fantastic cook and a sweetheart.
Unsurprisingly, Jed simply nodded. “I’ve already had a word with the boy, his
intentions are honorable.”

 
    
Miss Annabeth smiled and gave Micah a
similar affectionate head pat as she circled the table. “I know you did, Mister
Jed. He was plum quaking when he came calling this morning.”

 
    
“Good.” Jed gave Lena an indulgent look.
“You make him court you proper, young lady.

 
    
Your momma is a wise woman, she put me
through my paces with Miss Molly, you let her do the same for you.”