Maureen McKade (5 page)

“Doesn’t hurt to try.” Releasing her, he stepped back. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Jake.”

After closing the door behind him, Kit peeked around
the curtain and watched Jake stride into the barn.

A few minutes later he emerged, leading his horse. He mounted with natural grace and lifted a hand to Johnny, who’d followed him out of the barn. Tapping Zeus’s withers with his heels, Jake sent the horse into an easy gallop. Her son waved in farewell until Jake disappeared from view.

Kit leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Warring emotions roiled within her. She’d enjoyed seeing Jake again. However, she could already see a dangerous bond growing between Johnny and Jake. Maggie had always said Jake was a tumbleweed, and Kit didn’t want to see Johnny hurt when Jake left again.

She shouldn’t have raised her son’s hopes by permitting Jake to teach him how to ride. If Jake didn’t return, she would have to explain to Johnny what kind of man Jake was, and destroy her son’s illusion—the illusion she’d created with the Cordell stories.

After he returned from Kit’s, Jake went to the doctor’s office. The bell above the door announced his arrival, and Dr. Lewis stuck his head out of the back room. He scrutinized Jake closely, then frowned.

“What are you waiting for—an engraved invitation? Get in here and take your clothes off so I can examine you.” The cantankerous doctor’s gray eyes snapped impatiently.

“I’m not sick,” Jake replied.

“Then what the hell are you bothering me for? I’m a busy man.”

“My name’s Jake Cordell.”

“So what? My name’s Henry Lewis. Now go and bother someone else.” The doctor turned away.

“Wait,” Jake called. “I understand you have an office upstairs you’re looking to rent. Is it still empty?”

Dr. Lewis stopped to gaze at him. “Last time I
looked.” He narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t another doctor, are you?”

“No,” Jake said, feeling insulted. “I told you. I’m Jake Cordell, the bounty hunter.” He cleared his throat. “The dime novel hero.”

The doctor harrumphed. “Those ten-cent books are all a bunch of flapdoodle and tommyrot.”

Seeing past the doctor’s crusty facade, Jake grinned crookedly. “So, how did you like them?”

Dr. Lewis blinked, startled, then aimed a finger at Jake. “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

Laughing, Jake nodded. “And you’re a fake, Dr. Lewis.”

Humor glittered faintly in the doctor’s eyes. “The office is all yours, Mr. Cordell.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Twenty dollars a month. Pay me later. Now go on and let me tend to business.”

Dr. Lewis disappeared into the back room once more, and Jake, shaking his head and smiling, left.

He paused on the boardwalk and looked up at his new office. With any luck, he’d only be there a month. That would give him plenty of time to get his father’s ranch back. Then he’d show everyone he could do what Jonathan Cordell hadn’t been able to—he’d raise the best damn horses west of the Mississippi.

His step faltered. Kit cared about the ranch, too. He had seen it in her eyes when she’d talked about the horses, and the thought of taking the place from her twinged his conscience. He could still picture little Kit sprawled on the boardwalk, her eyes glittering with tears as the boys teased her. From that moment he’d made himself her protector—and now he was plotting to take her ranch.

Sergeant O’Hara crossed the street and joined him,
his expression downcast. “So you’re really goin’ to be hangin’ up your gun?”

Jake slapped his back. “Sure am, and can’t say that I’m real upset about it.”

O’Hara slipped his thumbs between his tan suspenders and brown wool shirt. “Now, I know you aren’t too fond of your reputation, but a lot of folks, meself included, will be missin’ your adventures.”

Jake pressed his hat back off his forehead. “Can’t be helped, Patrick. There comes a time in every man’s life when he hits a crossroads and has to decide what path he’s going to take. I’ve decided I’m tired of being shot at, spit on, bit, kicked, and cussed at.” He shrugged. “Of course, being a lawyer isn’t a whole lot different.”

“Aye, there’s probably more than a spot of truth there. Would you be wantin’ to join me for a pint or two?”

Tempted, Jake considered, then shook his head. “If there’s so much as a hint of liquor on my breath, Freda would most likely lock me out.”

“She’s a brassy lass, isn’t she?” Patrick commented with a grin.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “I can think of a lot of words to describe Freda, and brassy isn’t even close.”

The Irishman chuckled. “If Kit hadn’t taken you over, Freda wouldn’t have taken you in. I hope you weren’t too rough on the lass.”

“Kit?” Patrick nodded, and Jake snorted. “She can take care of herself. I stopped by her place earlier today.”

Surprise skidded across Patrick’s rough-hewn features, replaced by a wary defensiveness. “And what did you think?”

“I think she’s done a good job, considering.”

“Considerin’ what?”

“Well, that she has a son and she’s all by herself.”

“She’s got some hired men. Did you see them?”

Jake shook his head. “No, but Johnny mentioned them.”

“So you haven’t met them?”

Confused exasperation tested Jake’s patience. “That’s what I just said. Would you quit beating around the bush and tell me what the hell you’re getting at?”

After studying Jake a moment, Patrick sighed. “Kit takes in strays.”

“That’s nothing new—she’s been doing that since she was ten years old.”

“Then you’ll be knowin’ what I’m meanin’, and you probably won’t be surprised when you meet her hired men.” He tipped his hat to Jake. “I’ll be seein’ you.”

Bewildered by Patrick’s enigmatic reply, Jake remained standing in place. Although he’d known Kit for over thirteen years, he’d felt like he was meeting her for the first time that day. A part of that little girl remained in her, but the rest of her had changed dramatically. Most obvious was her transformation into an attractive woman with a damn fine figure, made especially tempting in those tight-fitting trousers. Another change was her independence: a trait Jake admired, even as he knew that self-reliance would be his greatest hindrance in regaining his father’s ranch.

He uprooted himself and strode down the boardwalk. Zeus would need some exercise tomorrow, and if they ended up at Kit’s place, he might be able to meet Kit’s hired men and see what Patrick had meant.

Besides, the prospect of seeing Kit and her son again wasn’t at all unpleasant.

Jake Cordell leveled his six-gun menacingly. “Throw it down, Ross, or I’m liable to get an itchy finger
.”

With flat fish eyes, Frank Ross squinted at the tow-ering
bounty hunter. “I ain’t gonna be taken in alive, Cordell
.”

Kit Thornton, aka T. K. Thorne, reread the lines and scowled, then jerked the sheet from the typewriter. She crushed the paper in her fist and tossed it at the wooden box beside the fireplace. The balled sheet bounced on the floor, coming to rest beside the other orphaned scraps of paper.

Her reluctant gaze sidled to the newspaper that lay on the corner of her writing desk. The headline glared at her, daring her to dispute its claim:
FRANK ROSS SENTENCED TO LIFE IMPRISONMENT.
Although she’d memorized the article, she scanned it again. After she finished, she removed her wire-rimmed spectacles and laid them on top of the paper.

When Jake had become a bounty hunter in the wild and untamed West, Kit had taken the factual newspaper accounts and given them a dollop of creative license to concoct the dime novels. Little did she realize how different the man was from the fictional character she’d created.

Trying to write Jake Cordell’s last adventure now, Kit floundered with the words that usually came so easily. How was she to have known Jake would despise the reputation her books had brought him? She’d written them as a tribute to the young man she’d been infatuated with so many years ago. She shuddered to imagine what he would do if he learned she was the nefarious T. K. Thorne.

She stood and pressed her palms against her lower back, trying to massage the tightness out of the knotted muscles.

Trudging out of the office and up the stairs, she paused outside Johnny’s bedroom and peeked in. A single candle cast a pale yellow glow across his beloved features as he slept peacefully in the same room his father
had slept in as a child. With little imagination, Kit could envision Jake in the bed, and the picture brought a heated warmth to her cheeks. She scolded herself sharply. The Jake Cordell she wrote about was the man she’d been infatuated with, not the drunk she’d helped over to Freda’s. Although he’d behaved better while visiting, Kit couldn’t allow her hopes to rise. Admiring the mythical hero was much safer.

Melancholy filled Kit as she slipped inside to extinguish the candle. Tiptoeing back into the hallway, she leaned against the wall and slid her hands into her trouser pockets.

Jake threatened the two most important things in her life: her son and her home. She would have to be blind not to see he was determined to own his father’s former ranch. And if she didn’t pay the note that was due in less than four weeks, he had a good chance of regaining his legacy—and Johnny’s birthright.

Shaking aside the dismal thoughts, she returned to her desk in the library. The smooth wooden chair creaked beneath her, and she slipped her glasses back on. She stared at the bulky typewriter, willing it to write Jake Cordell’s final adventure without her help. It remained stubbornly silent.

She sighed restlessly and opened a desk drawer, withdrawing a wooden box. Lifting the lid, she gazed at Jonathan Cordell’s revolver. He’d given it to her a few months before he was murdered, as if he’d had a premonition of his own death. She had never figured out why he’d gifted her with the gun, but Kit cherished it as a remembrance of her friendship with the elder Cordell. Kit stroked the cool metal, then placed the velvet-lined box back in its place.

Settling her fingers on the round typewriter keys with an intimacy born of familiarity, she forced a couple words onto the paper. The clacking kept time with the
grandfather clock’s swinging pendulum. But the solace she usually found in her writing eluded her.

Propping her elbows on the desktop, Kit buried her face in her hands. She wished Jake had never returned to Chaney to stir long-forgotten memories. Some memories were best left alone.

“Can we go watch Charlie and Ethan, Ma? I got my chores done,” Johnny pleaded.

The afternoon sun glinted across his hair, highlighting the same auburn tints that shone in his father’s darker hair.

Kit chastised herself. She had to stop comparing Johnny to Jake. If she continued, she was liable to slip up and comment aloud. She glanced at her son, who waited expectantly. “All right, but you’ll have to be quiet.”

“I know.”

Johnny’s indignation rang clearly in his tone. Sometimes she forgot he wasn’t a baby anymore.

The training pens were situated a quarter of a mile from the main building, curtained from sight by a grove of hardwood trees. As Kit and Johnny walked, dead leaves crackled beneath their feet. Spring had finally decided to make an appearance, and buds showed on the bushes and trees.

The training pens came into view and Kit slowed their approach. Once they were by the corral, she leaned against the upper rail and Johnny against the lower. Ethan, a nineteen-year-old who shared his heritage equally between the Pawnee and whites, waved at them. Kit returned the gesture, smiling at the young man.

“They’re working with Snowflake,” Johnny said in a low voice.

It didn’t surprise her that her son had named the horse,
and the white mark on the chestnut mare’s forehead told her why he’d chosen that name.

They watched Ethan and Charlie, a muscular black man, work with the skittish horse for a few minutes.

“Someone’s coming,” Johnny announced.

Kit glanced up to see a horseman nearing the corral. The cream-colored horse gave away the rider’s identity immediately: Jake Cordell. Why had he returned so soon?

Kit gripped the pole so tightly that her knuckles whitened. Had he guessed Johnny’s identity? Or had he already found out
she
was the hated T. K. Thorne?

Chapter 4

J
ake eased back on Zeus’s reins as he neared the activity around the corral. His palomino snorted impatiently, shaking its mane.

“Yes, I know she’s a cute little filly, but you behave yourself,” Jake warned in a low voice. Zeus flicked his ears back but settled down to a sedate walk.

Jake’s gaze roamed across Kit Thornton, noting she again wore the snug trousers that drew his attention to her small waist and nicely rounded hips that his palms ached to possess. He recalled the soft plumpness of her breasts pressed against his side as she’d helped him to Freda’s, and he had little trouble imagining what lay beneath the mannish clothing.

Shifting in the saddle uncomfortably, Jake drew his appreciative gaze away from Kit. “All right, maybe I should be taking my own advice,” he said to Zeus.

A few moments later he halted by the corral and touched the brim of his hat with his thumb and forefinger. “Afternoon, Kit, Johnny.”

“Hi, Mr. Cordell,” the boy said enthusiastically.

“Hello, Jake.” Kit’s greeting was less exuberant than her son’s.

Jake dismounted, the saddle creaking beneath him.
Loosely tying the leather reins around a fence post, he stood on the other side of Johnny. Resting his booted foot on the lower rail, Jake studied the two men in the corral and understood what Patrick had meant.

“What brings you back so soon?” Kit asked, drawing his attention.

“I was cleaning up my office this morning and cabin fever hit. I’m not used to being surrounded by four walls.”

“You’ll have to get used to it if you’re serious about working as a lawyer.”

Jake shrugged, hiding the fact that he didn’t plan on being in the office long enough to grow accustomed to it. “Time will tell if I’m cut out for the law business.”

“Would you like to come up to the house for some coffee?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather watch for a little while.” He gestured to the horse in the corral. “Looks like your wranglers know what they’re doing.”

Kit turned back to her hired men, her expression brightening. “Charlie’s been working here ever since I bought the place, and Ethan, the boy, showed up about a year ago.”

“Some bad men hurt him real bad and Ma took care of him,” Johnny added.

Knowing Kit, Jake wasn’t surprised.

“Part Cheyenne?”

Kit shook her head hesitantly. “His mother was Pawnee.”

“Not many folks would take in a half-breed.”

Fire flashed in her sapphire eyes. “Don’t you ever use that word around here.”

Jake would have been disappointed if she hadn’t responded with such vehemence, and he tossed her a grin. “Personally, I judge men by what they do, not what they are.”

Kit’s startled gaze met his. “Be careful who you say that to.”

“I suppose a woman raising a child alone, with a Negro and a breed working for her, isn’t too popular among Chaney’s upstanding citizens,” Jake said.

She blinked, then kicked at the dirt. “It hasn’t changed much since we were children, has it?”

“Why do you stay here if you hate it so much?”

She lifted her stormy eyes to him. “I don’t hate the town, Jake. I hate the narrow-mindedness of some of the people. There’s a lot of good folks around Chaney, too.”

“I like Freda and Patrick,” Johnny said. “Freda lets me help her make cookies, and Patrick always buys me a licorice stick.”

Kit ruffled her son’s hair, and smiled at Jake. “See what I mean?”

“And then there’s Will Jameson,” Jake remarked.

“You were the one who taught me how to handle bullies like him,” she said.

Jake turned back to the corral, embarrassed by the gratitude in her voice. He had always had a weakness for the underdog.

Charlie slipped a blanket on the horse’s back and pulled it off, then repeated the motion over and over. Jake straightened, recognizing the training method.

“I’ve only known one other person who broke horses that way,” Jake commented.

“Your father,” Kit said.

“How’d you know?”

“We used to visit quite a bit.” She paused. “That was after you’d gone away to college. He told me about his plans to raise horses and how he’d train them.”

Bitter betrayal blindsided Jake. “I didn’t think he’d told anyone but me what he wanted to do with the ranch.” Resentment sharpened his tone. “Hell, I didn’t even know you and him were such good friends.”

Kit’s lips thinned. “He never spoke down to me, and he listened to what I had to say, unlike my own father.”

Jake studied her stony profile, and his anger dissipated. “I guess maybe I didn’t know my father as well as I thought I did.”

Her features softened as understanding filled her eyes. “That’s funny. He said the same thing about you.”

Jake laced his fingers, resting his forearms on the corral pole. He cursed Frank Ross anew for murdering his father before he had made his peace with the elder Cordell.

Looking around, he imagined owning the ranch and the horses that pranced about in the nearby enclosures. The image brought a peace of mind he hadn’t experienced in years, although Kit’s presence disturbed him. Whether she knew it or not, and whether he liked it or not, she stood in his way.

“Would you like to see Satan?” Kit asked.

Seeing the excitement brimming in her eyes, Jake wanted to forget she was his adversary. But he’d dreamed his dream for too long. He’d do what he had to do to possess what was rightfully his. “Sure.”

Johnny ran ahead of them.

“Does he always have that much energy?” Jake asked.

She smiled, and he could almost touch the love in her expression. “Usually he has more.”

Curiously bereft, Jake frowned. “I haven’t been around kids much. Sometimes I wonder what I’d be doing now if I hadn’t turned to bounty hunting to get my father’s killer.”

“You sound bitter.”

“Maybe I am. I don’t know. I see you with your son and this ranch, and it makes me wonder.”

“You’ve done a lot of good, Jake. Think of all the lives you’ve saved by bringing in those outlaws.”

“But what price did I pay?”

Kit adjusted her spectacles, then slid her hands into her jacket pockets. “That’s something only you can answer,” she said with a husky voice.

She had a point, even though he wasn’t certain he was ready to confront his conscience.

“Satan’s in here,” Johnny stated when they reached the larger of the two barns. “You have to be quiet or he gets upset.”

Jake leaned close to Kit. “That sounds like Ma talking.”

Her cheeks reddened, and she gave a rueful nod.

Johnny opened the door and led him to a stall at the far end. When Jake had been a child he’d spent many hours playing in the barn, although the building had been empty back then. The rich aroma of horses and fresh hay surrounded him, a strong but not unpleasant mixture. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he distinguished the figure of a tall black stallion. Satan threw back his regal head, his ebony mane dancing across his neck.

“He’s beautiful,” Jake whispered in awe. “Where did you get him?”

Kit stretched out her arm toward the horse, and he nuzzled her hand. Patting his forehead, Kit turned to Jake. “An auction in Denver. He was more dead than alive at the time.” Fury colored her words. “The former owners tried to tame him using a whip. The only thing it did was scar him. I took one look into his eyes, and knew he wasn’t the devil they thought he was.”

Leave it to Kit to buy a horse no one else could handle. Or wanted. “So you bought him.”

“I worked with him every day for six months to get him to trust me.”

Jake studied the woman and the horse who nuzzled her ear. His throat tightened. The taunts and cruel jokes
she’d endured as a child had made her stronger, more prepared to face adversity.

“Something wrong, Jake?” Kit asked.

He forced a smile. “Nothing worth talking about.”

“Nobody but Ma can ride him,” Johnny said. “But I think when I’m big enough, he’ll let me ride him, too. He’s a stud horse. What does that mean, Mr. Cordell? Ma won’t tell me.”

Jake’s face warmed as he wondered how to explain horse breeding to a young boy. He glanced at Kit, whose eyes twinkled with amusement. No help to be found there. “Well, ah, I guess it means he’s a good daddy.”

Johnny nodded. “Ma says my pa was a good man. She says I’m a lot like him. Sometimes I wish he was here now.” He glanced at Jake. “I wish my ma would marry you, instead of Mr. Preston.”

“I have no plans to marry Mr. Preston,” Kit stated, then added hastily, “—or Jake.”

“Who’s Mr. Preston?” Jake asked.

“He owns the paper.”

“He’s got Toby breath,” Johnny said with a scowl. Jake snorted with laughter. “He was courtin’ Ma.”

The thought of another man exploring her enticing curves brought a flash of jealousy that surprised him. He cleared his throat. “He’s the one you sold the
Courier
to?”

A wistful expression shadowed her face. “That’s right. My heart was never in the newspaper business, much to my father’s disappointment.”

“I thought you and your father got along fine,” Jake said.

“As long as I did everything he said. He never really listened to me, Jake. When I tried to tell him about the other kids teasing me, he patted me on the head and said I was too emotional, just like my mother had been.

“And when I used to help him set type, he’d say I
was too slow or I didn’t spell the words right. He’d find fault with everything I did. He didn’t approve of me taking in strays, either, so I kept them hidden. That was the only time I defied Father.”

Jake could empathize. He hadn’t been able to measure up to his father’s expectations, either. He glanced down at Johnny, standing beside him; at least the boy wouldn’t have to impress a father.

“You should’ve told me, Kit,” Jake said.

She shook her head, a sad smile playing across her lips. “There was nothing you could’ve done. The only thing that would’ve made it better was if I’d been born a boy.”

“I’m glad you weren’t,” Jake said, his gaze straying across her full breasts and down to her hips. Kit blushed.

Jake turned to Johnny. “Ready for your first riding lesson?”

Johnny jumped up and down, startling Satan. “Yep.”

Kit ran her hand down Satan’s neck to calm him. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Jake?”

“I’ve been looking forward to it,” he said honestly.

She scratched the stallion’s forehead, a frown marring her face. After a few moments, she looked at Jake. “Treasure’s our gentlest horse.”

Jake read the concern in her eyes, and leaned close to her, speaking in a voice low enough that Johnny couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

She nodded, but Jake could tell he hadn’t allayed her apprehension.

Fifteen minutes later, in the bright afternoon sunlight, Kit leaned against the corral as Jake and Johnny stood next to the gentle dun. Despite Jake’s reassurances, she couldn’t stop the fear that climbed up her throat. She locked her fingers together to hide their trembling and
hooked her arms over the top rail. Despite the cool day, perspiration pearled her forehead.

“All right, Johnny,” Jake began. “First thing you have to do is let your horse get to know you. Let her smell your hand, talk to her, rub her neck; that way she won’t be so surprised when you get on her back.”

Treasure nuzzled Johnny’s hand and the boy giggled, bringing a reluctant smile to Kit.

“See her ears?” Jake asked.

Johnny nodded. “They’re kinda standing straight up.”

“That means Treasure knows what’s going on, that she trusts you. If a horse should ever throw back its ears, you’d best be getting out of its way.”

Jake’s low easy drawl calmed Kit. For a moment she heard the long-ago echo of Jake’s soothing voice as he’d eased her loneliness with a few words and an understanding smile.

Then Jake lifted the boy into the saddle, and Kit’s fingernails dug into her palms. “All right, now, keep your heels down in the stirrups,” Jake instructed.

Johnny gripped the reins in both hands, and his tongue darted across his lips. Jake remained close to Treasure, keeping one hand on the bridle and the other on Johnny’s leg.

“That’s right, keep those toes pointed to the sky,” Jake said. “You’re doing great, Johnny.”

The boy smiled, his face glowing.

“What do you say we walk around the corral a couple times so you can get a feel for the reins?” Jake suggested.

Johnny nodded.

As Jake led Treasure around the enclosure, Kit could see him talking to Johnny, and her shoulders untensed. Jake was a natural teacher, and she wondered if he even realized his talent.

Would he act any differently if he knew Johnny was his son? Kit squelched the thought even as her conscience proclaimed her a coward for keeping silent.

After a few circles, Jake stopped Treasure and laid a hand on Johnny’s arm. “Do you want to try it by yourself?”

He nodded eagerly.

Kit held her breath as Johnny kneed Treasure into a slow gait.

Jake walked close beside them. “You’re doing just fine.” He spoke in a low voice that wouldn’t startle the horse. “Ease up on the reins—Treasure will feel the leather on the side of her neck and turn that way.”

Excitement animated Johnny’s face, and something close to pride glowed in Jake’s expression.

“All right, Johnny, I think that’s enough for today,” Jake said. He led the docile horse to the fence near Kit, and Jake smiled. “Looks like your son takes to riding like a grizzly takes to an itch.”

Relief poured through her, and she smiled at the carefree expression on his features. “I didn’t realize you had a gift for teaching.”

He shook his head. “Johnny’s just an excellent student.” Jake lifted him down from Treasure’s back and laid a hand across the boy’s shoulders. “You did real good, kid.”

“I rode all by myself,” Johnny exclaimed with a wide grin.

“You sure did,” Kit said with a fond smile. Now that Johnny stood on solid ground, she wondered why she’d been so terrified. “I bet you’ll be trotting next time.”

“And then he’ll be wanting his own pony,” Jake said, winking at her.