NotoriousWoman (11 page)

After taking care of his leather, he changed his shirt and
washed up in cold water. He always spent Saturday night at a card game. Tonight
he was in desperate need of male company. He was ready for some carousing, a
bottle of Old Overholt and those bawdy tunes the dollies played on a piano.
Maybe he’d dance with one of those sweet-smelling ladies.

A card game with some of the locals appealed to him
mightily.

Kate wanted to keep him on a short leash. No man should have
to put up with such demands.

He rounded up a fresh horse and headed for town. He’d plenty
of thinking to do.

Kate believed he was at the ranch to do her bidding. With
her smoldering eyes and a little crook of her finger, she expected to get what
she wanted.

Even old General had been bowled over by her bossy nature.

Jake wasn’t about to give up his manhood to a spitfire of a
woman.

* * * * *

Jolie screamed when she caught sight of Caleb Purdy coming up
the road, driving his fancy buggy with the ball fringe bouncing.

She jumped off the porch and threw herself into Caleb’s
waiting arms. She was wearing her Sunday-best pink calico. Her hair was pulled
up off her neck, exposing the long, slender length and tied in a matching
ribbon.

Kate had to admit Jolie was pretty and from the look of him,
Caleb agreed.

Her sister squealed as Caleb swung her around and when he
stopped she gazed into his eyes. Caleb pushed his hat back and planted a kiss.
Jolie kissed him back and didn’t appear likely to stop.

Kate crossed her arms. Those two acted as if they were going
to be carrying on all night. And damn if they didn’t come across as if they
were experts.

When Jolie caught sight of Kate, she pulled away, blushing
two shades of red. Caleb saw her and grinned as though he’d been caught with
his hand in the candy jar down at Finney’s Mercantile.

How had Kate become such a tyrant? Even Jake had rejected
what she’d offered, wanting to get away from her.

Caleb removed his hat and held it to his chest. “It’s been a
while, Kate. I’m sorry I didn’t come over sooner. How are you?”

“See for yourself. We’re doing all right.”

“That’s a relief.” He stared with puppy-dog eyes at Jolie.

“Why are you here, Caleb Purdy?”

“I come to court your sister, with your permission of
course.” He winked at Jolie.

Her sister had a fit of giggles.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason? I can’t abide any
dishonesty.”

“Wholly and truly, Kate. You’ve got no reason to be
concerned.”

“Tell your father I’ve no intention of selling out.”

“Kate!” Jolie’s spoke sharply.

“Now Kate, you wound me with your accusations.” There was
mischief in his eyes. She recognized the devil when she saw him.

“Come on in,” Kate said, having stated her case. “There’s
coffee on the stove.”

Jolie didn’t appear as if she was going to let him go.

“Thank you kindly, Miss Kate. I’ll be in as soon as I tend
to my horse.”

“I’ll help,” Jolie chirped.

Disgusted at the two of them, Kate spun on her heel and went
back into the house. She closed the door and stood against it, remembering how
happy she’d been this afternoon riding out with Jake and rounding up those
cows. They’d worked together as a team. Then she’d gone and spoiled it by
demanding he stay at the ranch. The ranch seemed empty without him here.

She’d spend her evening chaperoning two lovebirds.

It was enough to make a grown woman cry.

* * * * *

Jake rode into town still mad after his fight with Kate. No
woman had provoked him to lose his temper before and he was damned if he
understood why Kate was the first.

The folks of Tucson hurried to finish their business. It’d
soon be dark and supper would be on the table. Jake pulled up to the first
saloon he came across.

An old-timer came out of the swinging doors and stood
unsteadily on the boardwalk. “There’s more rain a-coming,” he said. His watery
eyes glistened in the dim light.

Jake shot a gander at the heavens. “I suppose there is but I
can’t worry about bad weather just now. I’ve got some serious drinking to do.
Care to join me?”

The geezer beamed like a kerosene lantern. “That’s mighty
hospitable of you. Don’t mind if I do.”

Jake dismounted and wrapped the reins around the hitching
post. His new friend clapped him on the back and they pushed through the
batwing doors.

The smoke-filled room suited Jake just fine. Unshaven men
played cards. Women in fancy dresses served them. The skinny barkeep kept the
drinks coming.

Jake headed straight for the bar.

“Whiskey,” he told the barkeep. “For me and my friend.”

The man brought an unopened bottle out from underneath the
bar and set it in front of Jake. He grabbed two clean glasses drying on a strip
of cotton sacking.

Jake took a dollar coin out of his vest pocket and laid it
on the bar. “There’s more where that came from as long as you keep the whiskey
flowing.”

The barkeep nodded, pulled out the cork and filled the two
glasses.

Jake offered one of them to the old man.

“What are we celebrating?” the old-timer asked.

“Bachelorhood,” Jake replied and downed his drink. The
whiskey went down like a branding iron. When it hit Jake’s empty stomach, his
gut rebelled. Jake shook himself from head to toe and the old man laughed.

“Say, I didn’t get your name,” he said then emptied his
glass.

“Jake. Jake Madden.”

“Are you passing through, Jake?”

“No sir, I’m the new foreman out at the Crowley spread.”

The old man put his glass on the bar and wiped his mouth on
his sleeve. “That explains a lot.”

“I don’t get your drift,” Jake answered.

“Talk around the territory is that Kathryn Crowley is hard
on her help.”

“Folks got it right.”

“Kate giving you trouble, boy?” the barkeep asked.

The old-timer chuckled.

Jake didn’t take offense. “Nothing I can’t manage.”

“If you ask me, her engagement to a scoundrel soured her on
men.”

“Kate was getting hitched?” Jake couldn’t believe it.

“A no-good from back East,” the barkeep replied. “Didn’t fit
in with folks here in Tucson.”

The notion Kate had been promised to another man hit Jake
hard. Why hadn’t she told him?

“What happened to the son of a gun?”

The barkeep smirked. “The story is they had an argument and
he ran out on her.”

“That’s a sorry situation if you ask me.” The old-timer
wagged his head.

It explained her prickly attitude toward males, Jake
decided. She didn’t trust them and he couldn’t blame her if she tarred all men
with the same brush.

“You ever been married?” Jake asked, refilling their
glasses.

“Twice,” the old-timer replied. “Neither stuck.”

Jake finished the second glass, savoring every drop. His
bones, muscles and his blood felt as if they were glowing. The warmth was a
comfort and settled him down some.

“There’s many a theory about women,” the old-timer said,
slurring his words. “None of them worth a hill of beans.”

It was Jake’s turn to laugh. He faced the crowd and saluted
them with his drink. “Barkeep, whiskey for these men. Beer for the horses.”

The men looked up from their cards. Some of them cheered.
Some eyed him with suspicion. Jake didn’t care. They’d all be his friends by
closing time.

Several drinks later—Jake hadn’t kept count—he was sitting
at a table with three other men of dubious reputation. The old-timer was asleep
in one corner, snoring like a hibernating bear.

The cardsharp across from Jake kept dealing himself four of
a kind and the other two snickered as he raked in the pot. Those three were in
cahoots together and Jake was their tenderfoot.

When the dealer showed four aces, Jake’d had enough.

He shook his head as he pocketed his meager pile of coins.
“You’ve just about cleaned me out. Time I went home.”

“What’s your hurry?” the man said. “The evening’s just
getting started.”

“Maybe his missus will be sore if he’s home late.”

They all guffawed, including the cardsharp, who hadn’t
cracked a smile until then.

“For your information, I ain’t hitched,” Jake told them.

“You sure act like you are.”

A comment like that would set a sober man to fighting. Jake
stood abruptly, picked up the table and hurled it over.

One of the dollies screamed and there was shouting all
around him. Jake held his fists high.

All three men cowered. Not one of those ne’er-do-wells would
fight him.

The barkeep, however, took Jake by the collar and showed him
the door. “Don’t come back until you learn some manners,” he said. He shoved
Jake through those swinging doors. Two seconds later his hat came flying after
him.

Jake stumbled and caught hold of a post before he fell. He
stood there wondering what he should do. The wind had picked up and whistled in
the tops of the trees. The cold air cut like a knife. This wasn’t like him. He
was a drinking man but not a drunk. He didn’t get thrown out of saloons. This
was all her fault. She was driving him around the bend.

He shivered and buttoned up his coat. He picked up his hat,
brushed off the dirt and set it squarely on his head. He’d like to go back
inside and finish what he started. Show those men who they’d insulted. Instead
he leaned against the post, wishing he were back at the ranch in a warm bed
with only a dreamless sleep ahead of him.

Would Kate be waiting up for him?

He doubted it. She was probably still angry with him. She hadn’t
approved of what he was coming to town for and made her druthers abundantly
clear. What would she think if she found out he’d been propositioned by one of
the fair dollies and all he could think about was Kate? And he’d gone and
resisted the dolly’s charms when any other red-blooded male would have done
what his manhood required of him.

Jake didn’t have an answer. He took a deep breath and the
fog in his head began to lift. He licked his lips, a powerful thirst still
gnawing at him and no way to quench it.

He fished in his pocket to see how much money was left,
plenty aggrieved at his losses. A couple dollars was all he had to his name.
They would have to do. He crossed the street. The man who ran the mercantile
was locking his front door.

“Evening,” he said with a nod.

“Evening,” Jake replied.

“Say, aren’t you the new foreman out at the Crowley place?”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“I hope you can help them,” he said.

“I hope I can survive them,” Jake replied.

The man chuckled.

“Name’s Jake Madden.”

“Pleased to meet you. My name is Finney, Michael Finney.”

“What kind of hooch you selling in your fine establishment?”
Jake asked.

“I just unpacked a case of Kentucky bourbon this afternoon.”

Jake shook his head. “Too rich for my blood.”

The man inserted his key and opened the door. “Come on in,
Jake, I’ll show you what I have.”

Jake shoved his fists in his pockets and followed. Mr.
Finney lit a lantern and went behind a counter. The room smelled of brine and
for good reason. There were two large pickle barrels next to the front door.

“You sell pickles from a barrel?” Jake asked.

“The customers like picking ‘em,” Finney said. “’Specially
the young ‘uns.” Mr. Finney placed several bottles on top the counter. “How
many you want?”

Jake removed one of his coins. “How much will one silver
dollar buy me?”

Mr. Finney picked up the nearest bottle. “I can let this go
for your money.”

Jake slid the coin across the counter. Rotgut would suit him
fine.

“You may have figured this out, maybe not, but the Crowleys
are broke,” Finney said.

Jake had an inkling of the women’s finances and he’d feared
they were close to the edge. Reluctantly, he set the bottle on the counter.
“How much does she owe you?”

“Their account is overdue for a considerable amount.”

“Well, I happen to have a couple dollars.” He drew the last
of his coins from his pocket and pushed the money across the counter. “I’m good
for the rest.”

“Suit yourself.”

“When she comes in next time, you give her what she needs.”

“That I will.”

Jake gave one last, loving look at the bottle of whiskey
he’d refused and departed.

* * * * *

Halfway home, Jake slowed down as the rain started. Before
long, the rain came in sheets and the road became one gigantic puddle. The
gelding was sure-footed but they were both cold and miserable by the time they
reached the ranch.

He saw the house in the distance, light glowing from the
windows. All his adult life he’d been a cowman, living rough. No sir, he hadn’t
forgotten the comforts of home. The ranch house all lit up and welcoming struck
him as mighty appealing.

He’d be warm and dry inside those walls and he’d find a
mouthwatering supper simmering on the stove, waiting for his return.

Kate would be there, soft and yielding and casting off a
fire of her own. Thinking about her tormented him and sent liquid heat through
his veins. He’d no doubt she’d give him all a man could ask for and then some.

But taming her? Maybe it wasn’t possible. The territory
required tenacity and grit. No one survived without ‘em.

Why didn’t he walk away from her and return to the Purdy
spread? That bag of gold and silver waiting for him was one reason. If he left
Kate, he’d be so in debt he would never recover. His dream of a place of his
own would be dead.

That wasn’t the only reason. Ever since he’d seen her
standing in front of the mercantile, whip in hand, he’d been drawn to the fire
in her, the passion to take care of what she believed in. No sirree, life with
Kate would never be dull.