Oklahoma kiss (28 page)

      
Now this kid had blundered in and spoiled his ruse. He would have to think of something quick to avoid gunplay. Gunplay hell, it would be a slaughter as drunk as the kid was. Still, he couldn't afford to underestimate him. Too many good men had staked claims in boot hill for miscalculating a kid just because he was young and drunk.

      
"What ja gonna do ‘bout my hat, you clumsy ..." The kid reached down for his gun, but Adam grabbed his wrist and held it in a vise-like grip.

      
Shelton had gotten off the stool and was suddenly paying an exorbitant amount of interest in polishing his bar. He dropped the bar cloth, stooped to retrieve it, and straightened up holding a double-barreled shotgun and it was leveled across the bar.

      
"All right, the both of you, just settle down and stand easy." He reached across the bar and removed the kid's gun from the holster. He said to Adam, "Mister, you didn't start the argument so I'm not taking your guns, but if you draw on him, I'll cut you in half with my shotgun."

      
"If I had planned on doing that, I wouldn't have grabbed his hand when he went for his gun." He shrugged. "I can tell when a kid is still wet behind the ears. Tomorrow he probably won't even remember this happened."

      
Shelton nodded his gratitude. He hurried from out behind the bar and grabbed the boy by the nape of his neck. "You know I don't tolerate the kind of trouble you're looking for. Go on home now and sleep it off."

      
The kid looked at Shelton through blurry eyes. "It's his fault. I'm gonna . . . make him pay for my . . . hat."

      
"No, it isn't his fault, and if you keep on running your mouth, you'll have more trouble than you want. Take this piece of advice from an old friend. If you call him out, he'll kill you. If you try to fight him, I don't know about him, but I know you don't have the money to pay for the damages and I don't want my place busted up. So go sleep it off." He motioned for one of the girls sitting at the table. "Hell, you're in no condition to make it home. You can use my back room. Mabel will even go back with you for a while."

      
At the mention of Mabel, the hat was quickly forgotten. The kid staggered and grinned broadly when he saw the heavily painted woman making her way toward him.

      
"Thanks, Shelton, I appreciate what you did, I owe you one," Adam said, turning back to his food.

      
"We'll call it even if you agree never to order milk in my place again."

      
Adam tensed when he felt a hand on his back. Turning his head slowly, he saw Tom Bastrop and a foreboding feeling swept over him. It wasn't so much Tom Bastrop that made Adam wary. It was the two men with him. To his knowledge the men were not wanted by the law, but he recognized them. Logan Banner and Ross Reynolds were hired guns, two of the most ruthless men who ever strapped on a gun.

      
Now why did Tom Bastrop feel it necessary to hire guns? There were no range wars going on. Could it be they were reinforcements to help back up this vigilante group Bastrop was talking about? If so, the vigilante group was past the "talking" stage. It had already been formed.

      
"Howdy, Deputy, I wondered how you were going to get out of that. I figured you'd have to shoot the boy. It wouldn't have been a big loss, he comes from nothing but white trash."

      
Shelton glanced around sharply when he heard what Tom called the stranger. He jammed a cigar in the corner of his mouth. "So you're a deputy? Then you do owe me one."

      
Having suddenly lost his appetite, Adam shoved his plate back and ordered a beer. "Keeping late hours aren't you, Tom? Especially here at roundup."

      
"Oh, I had business to take care of. Speaking of business, I imagine you'll have to be going back to Fort Smith before long." From his tone of voice that thought did not distress him at all.

      
"No, on the contrary. I'll be here for a while. I'm looking for a building now that's suitable for a jail" He smiled but it was without humor. "I figure I'll need one with an awfully strong cell."

      
"I didn't think a deputy marshal had any authority to open a jail here in the Indian Territory."

      
"As a rule, we don't. But the rules are changing every day now that they're about to open up that land." Dismissing Tom with a flicker of his eyes, he looked at the two hired guns. "Banner, Reynolds." He nodded his head. "Last I heard, you men were somewhere out in Wyoming. I've heard the trouble is getting a little rough out there."

      
"Not any more, it isn't," Ross Reynolds stated flatly.

      
"I see. You boys decide to start punching cattle for a living now?"

      
Logan started to reply, but Tom held up a hand to silence him. "As you pointed out, Cahill, ranchers shouldn't keep too late of hours. We need to be getting back to the ranch." His eyes narrowed. "Just a word of warning, though. There's more trouble here in Doughtery than you might realize. If I were you, I’d watch my back."

      
Adam looked at Tom for a moment and decided now was as good a time as any to let the man know his opinion and where he stood.

      
"Oh, I don't think that I've got anything to worry about just yet. Especially now that you're heading back to your ranch."

      
There was no turning back now. The challenge had been issued.

      
Chapter 17

      
"I’ll be ready to go as soon as I saddle my horse. You drive the buckboard and I’ll ride alongside you," Warren said, helping Blair into the wagon.

      
Blair stared at the reins as though they were something coiled, ready to strike if she so much as took them in her hands. She had told Warren during breakfast that she did not want to go to Doughtery, but he kept insisting. Why she allowed him to persuade her to get ready, she did not know.

      
She swallowed with difficulty and found her voice, "For the last time, Warren, I had rather stay here. I’m really not in the mood to go to town."

      
"Nonsense! There is absolutely no reason for you to stay here at the house on such a beautiful spring day. Furthermore, Tillie said you needed some lace and ribbons for that pretty yellow dress you're wearing to the dance tomorrow night."

      
Blair looked at him accusingly. "You could pick up those items for me at the mercantile. Besides, I haven't made up my mind whether I'm going to the dance or not," she added coolly.

      
Warren stopped beside the wagon and placed his hands on his hips. She had been dragging around with a long face and big sad eyes ever since Adam left without telling her good-bye, but that was no reason for her to continue to be so despondent. It had to be something else bothering her but she refused to discuss it.

      
"All right, young lady, I've had just about enough of this foolishness. You've been as touchy as a rattler and I'm tired of it." His hard gaze drilled into her. "I demand that you tell me what's wrong."

      
She sputtered, bristling with indignation, "Nothing is wrong! I can not understand why you are making such a big issue over the fact that I do not want to go to town!"

      
"It isn't just that, Blair, and you know it. It's your attitude the past few days." Although he sounded stern, his tone betrayed his frustration, "Since you won't tell me what is bothering you, I suppose I will have to try and eliminate the reasons step by step. Are you still upset about that argument we had when you first came home? I realize I haven't said anything in so many words, but I have reconsidered the position I took that night. Hell, I'll even admit to being unreasonable about the entire matter if it will make you feel any better!"

      
"No, Warren, that's not it." She turned toward him and caught his stare. "I-I figured we were well on our way of working that problem out."

      
"Then is it Coy? I know his behavior has been strange, but he'll straighten up as soon as he has a chance to come to terms with what all that's
      
happened lately. This land rush situation has hit him hard, but he'll come to his senses when it’s over."

      
"No, Warren, it isn't Coy —not really, although I do worry about him."

      
"Then what in the hell is it? I’m not about to stand here and guess all day, and I can't read your mind!"

      
"It's . . . it's . . . well, if you must know, it is Adam!"

      
"Adam?" he mouthed dumbly.

      
"Yes, Adam. I'm not sure . . . I'm . . . confused by the . . . feelings I have for him." She pressed her fingertips against her temples. "And, please, I do not want to discuss him, and I had rather not see him today either."

      
Warren was stunned. After Adam asked permission to come calling on Blair, he thought everything was fine between them.

      
"I thought you . . . liked Adam."

      
"I do," she answered softly. "I probably like him too much." She could not admit to Warren that she loved Adam.

      
Confused, he shook his head. "Perhaps I am becoming dense with age, but I don't understand what the problem is."

      
Her expression clouded with uneasiness. "The problem is: he does not care for me, and I do not want to push myself on him."

      
"If he doesn't care for you, then why in the hell did he ask permission to come calling on you the other night before he left?"

      
"He did what?" She looked at him sharply.

      
"He asked permission to court you," Warren repeated.

      
Was it because of his guilty conscience? If that
was the case, it was little consolation.

      
She shrugged as though indifferent. "You must have misunderstood him, Warren. Adam doesn't care for me . . . not the way I want him to."

      
He pursed his lips and cast her a sidelong look. "But you care for him."

      
"Yes, I do."

      
"Well, I don't think I misunderstood him, but if I did, why are you sitting there doing nothing?"

      
"W-what do you mean?"

      
He used the cajoling tone he had used on her when she was a little girl. It had never failed to draw her out of a pouting mood. "Blair, I've never seen you behave this way before. What in the hell happened to my little spitfire sister? Was it that eastern school? You were sent there to learn how to be a lady . . . not to break your spirit."

      
She shook her head adamantly. "I am still myself, Warren, I have not changed, except I am older now and more mature."

      
"Hogwash! Granted, you are older, and yes, you have matured, but the old Blair was a fighter. If you saw something you wanted, you went after it without any qualms whatsoever. You say you care for Adam. Well, I don't believe you," he taunted her.

      
"I do care for him!" she protested vehemently. "But he does not care for me."

      
"I think you are wrong about his feelings. But even if you are, what do you intend to do? Allow him to walk out of your life without even making an attempt to win his affections?"

      
She folded her arms stubbornly. "You are not going to change my mind by making me angry."

      
Unable to conceal his disgust, he scoffed, "I'm not trying to change your mind. I know one thing though, if you are willing to give up this easily, you're not woman enough for a man like him." He whirled and stalked angrily toward the tack room.

      
Stunned, Blair sat on the wagon seat, unable to move. How dare he talk to her this way! Men! They were always too stubborn and bull-headed to comprehend how a woman felt. He did not understand that a woman could not chase after a man as though she had not one ounce of pride.

      
You set a lot of stock in pride, Blair, but will it hold you, kiss you, keep you warm on a cold winter night? How can you allow pride to stand in the way of the man you love? Pride is no answer, it's just an excuse. You are a coward. You would rather wallow in the safety of self-pity than to reach out for happiness. It might be that he'll never love you, yet how will you know if you don't try? You've always fought for what you've wanted; why quit now when something as important as your future is at stake? It's your decision to make, but are you woman enough to live with it if you make the wrong one?

      
Warren returned from the tack room carrying his saddle. He gave Blair a scathing look. "You still out here? I figured you would be in the house hiding under your bed."

      
She smiled ever so slightly at his sarcasm. "No, how can I stay at home when I need lace and ribbons? Even if you volunteered to pick up those items for me at the general store, you'd probably get the wrong colors, then I would look a fright for the dance tomorrow night." turning somewhat on the wagon seat, she placed her hands akimbo. "Well, are you going to stand there holding that saddle all day? If we hurry, we may reach Doughtery in time to have lunch with Adam."

      
"All right, all right, I’m hurrying!" he said, a wide grin on his face.

      
"Warren?"

      
"Yes?"

      
"Thank you. Sometimes I think I have mush for brains."