Oklahoma kiss (40 page)

      
When would they ever learn there was a better way to live than by the gun? Adam wondered as the little boy ducked his head and slowly left the restaurant.

      
He placed his hat on his head, pushed his chair back and walked outside into the bright sunlight.

      
Already, people had started to cluster into groups. It was as though they smelled the coppery scent of blood in the air, and like so many wild predators, were just waiting eagerly for the kill before they pounced to devour the victim. Adam noticed cynically that there were as many women as men congregated about. Apparently they were as enthusiastic to see blood run as the men. The sight of all their anxious, overly zealous expressions made him hurry his steps. Suddenly, he preferred to face the two gunmen rather than be scrutinized by all of them for a moment longer than necessary.

      
Stepping up on the sturdy depot platform, Adam saw no one lurking about, but he immediately noticed the door to his office standing wide open. Drawing his guns, he cautiously approached the door.

      
One man was sitting, leaning back in the swivel chair with his feet propped up on Adam's desk, his hat pulled forward partially covering his eyes. The other man was busy building a small fire in the potbellied stove.

      
The man at the desk pushed his hat back with his fingertip and drawled slowly, "Heard you were needing a couple of deputies in the worst way. Matthew and I decided we might ought to come and bail you out of trouble . . . again. "

      
"Seth! Matthew!" He grasped their hands in a hardy shake. "You ornery ... I didn't expect you until this afternoon. When that little boy told me two mean, ugly-looking men were waiting for me, I left the restaurant without waiting for my breakfast!"

      
"Breakfast?" the two men chorused in amused unison.

      
"At this time of day?" Seth asked, laughing. "What have you been doing, keeping banker's hours? And how come you expected us? The judge didn't tell us we were coming until the last minute."

      
Adam sighed, pretending exasperation. "I meant, I didn't expect any deputies until this afternoon, and I certainly didn't expect my two younger brothers. And as for having breakfast this time of day, I've been too busy to eat." He grinned to take the sting out of his words. "So, I don't want any smart lip out of either of you!"

      
Matthew shook the empty coffee pot that had been on the back of the stove. "Now that I have a fire built, do you have anything to go in this?"

      
"Yeah, there's a bucket of water, it might be a little stale though, and there is a sack of coffee in that bottom desk drawer ... if we can persuade Seth to move." Not giving Seth time to move,

      
Adam simply shoved his legs out of the way, not meanly or cruelly, but in a jostling manner that indicated the strong affection they all felt for each other. "Matthew, how is Martha doing?"

      
"Just fine. She sends her best. She also said you could write every now and then ... at least to let us know if you were still alive. "

      
Seth spoke up, "But he isn't telling you the best part. We should be uncles in another month or two." He noticed the startled but pleased expression on Adam's face. "If you ever picked up your mail when you went to Fort Smith, maybe you would know more about what is happening in the family."

      
Ignoring his brother's caustic remark, Adam smiled and nodded at Matthew. "Congratulations, you and Martha will make good parents, and I wish you all the best in the world." There was much more he wanted to say, but decided to wait until he could get his kid brother alone. Now that Matthew was about to be a father, maybe he could persuade him to take his and Seth's advice and study law. They had been trying to convince him to do that ever since he and Martha married. Being a deputy was no life for a family man. "Since I seldom pick up my mail, either one of you want to tell me what else has been going on in the family?"

      
While the coffee brewed, they all sat down and talked. Then as usual whenever they got together, they began reminiscing about their childhood and all of the practical jokes they used to play on each other, and how they always seemed to backfire.

      
"I still have the scar on my leg from that time I decided to burn you two at the stake," Matthew said, pulling up his pants leg to show them.

      
Adam laughed, "Yeah, you were a mean little turd and it served you right. But I think we all have scars. For instance, that time Seth bet me I couldn’t rope a longhorn. I showed him I could, but when that old mossy-horned devil started dragging me, it took at least a half of a mile for me to realize I could turn loose of the rope."

      
"Yeah, and remember when I snuck Papa's gun and I ended up shooting off my big toe." Seth shook his head. "It's a wonder we didn't kill ourselves."

      
Adam glanced at Matthew, winked, then grinned as he got the cups and poured the coffee. "We always figured you shot your toe off deliberately so you wouldn't have to help dig that water well."

      
Seth guffawed. "If you think I'm going to admit to anything now, you're both loco. But, if you'll recall, my toe suddenly took a turn for the better as soon as the well was finished."

      
Adam nodded complacently then cradled his hands around his coffee cup. "As much as I've enjoyed this, I think it's time we got down to business." Turning to look through the bars at the drunk who had passed out and was snoring in a steady rhythm, Adam, being a naturally cautious man, motioned for them to keep their voices low. "There is quite a bit going on here that you need to know ... in fact, so much I really don't know where to start."

      
Matthew said, "About the only thing the judge told us was that you had walked into a hornet's nest. So, I suppose you ought to start at the beginning, and if we have any questions we can always ask, right, Seth?"

      
"Right."

      
In spite of the seriousness of the situation and the danger involved, Adam smiled at Matthew's phrasing. Blair immediately came to mind. "Well, yes," he drawled slowly, "I suppose you could say I walked into a hornet's nest. Although, I’m still trying to figure out whether I was stung or not."

      
Adam then started at the beginning, telling them everything that had happened since he began trailing Luther Talley and his gang-everything other than what related to his personal life and his feelings about Blair. For the time being, that was much too private to share, there was still an uncertainty about their relationship. Matthew wouldn't say a word, but Seth would tease him unmercifully if he knew his eldest brother had fallen in love, especially after listening to his many lectures about how women and badges did not mix.

      
Adam also told them his suspicions: who he thought was behind the trouble and why, whom to watch out for, and the men they could probably trust. He summed it up by telling them about facing Luther Talley in a gunfight, and how he learned someone had put a price on his head, but there had been no clues in either man's personal effects that could lead to the man's identity.

      
Adam looked at his brothers. "Do either of you have any questions?"

      
Seth glanced at Matthew then slowly shook his head. "No, I think you fairly well covered everything. I do have a suggestion, though. You look dead on your feet. Why don't you go to the hotel and try to get some sleep. If trouble develops, your reflexes will be too slow if you don't. Me and Matthew can handle anything that might come up."

      
Adam considered his offer. "I think I will . . . after I get a bite to eat." His eyes narrowed

      
thoughtfully. "But first, I might have an idea . . . that if we manage it right, it could prove to be very beneficial. Feel free to tell me what you think."

      
"We're listening."

      
He glanced around again at the drunk. Satisfied that the man was still asleep, Adam began, "Since neither of you has been in this area before, no one knows you are lawmen, unless someone on the train . . ."

      
Matthew shook his head. "I seriously doubt if we were recognized. We don't advertize the fact that we are deputies, unless trouble arises or if we feel it's necessary when we reach our destination. So, I think it is safe to assume no one knows we are lawmen. Now, what's your idea?"

      
"Seth, what do you think about pretending to be just passing through ... or a gambler ... or maybe a gun that could be hired if the price was right?"

      
"If you're suggesting that I be an inside man, I think it is something we should certainly consider."

      
Matthew agreed. "I do, too, but it sounds awfully dangerous. Why not let me do it, though? Or, are you still trying to protect your little brother?" He stared at Adam in waiting silence.

      
"No. Before you start complaining about it being dangerous, just remember what I told you about there being a price on my head. Since you are a deputy, there could be one on your head by nightfall. The reason I suggested Seth is because there is less family resemblance . . . and he is faster and more accurate with a gun than you. Now ... do you have any other objections?" Adam asked a bit too curtly. Brother or not, he wasn't going to have his authority questioned— even if Matthew's protest did have a ring of truth to it.

      
"No."

      
"Since the two of you arrived together, Seth could tell it around town that he was kicked off the train for gambling. When he protested, there was a fight and you arrested him. Seth, I could even give you a receipt to prove you posted your bail—and if you showed it around and perhaps complained a bit too loud, it would make the story more believable," He sighed wearily and rubbed his face. "Of course that cover story just came off the top of my head, and if either of you can come up with something better, be my guest. But I do think the basic idea is a good one."

      
Seth walked over to the stove and poured himself another cup of coffee. "Adam, I think so, too, and the cover story sounds fine . . ." His voice broke off sharply when a young woman came charging through the door, looking angry enough to spit nails.

      
Blair placed her hands on her slender hips; her voice was like chips of ice and her eyes even colder. "Adam Cahill, I am so furious I may never speak to you again . . . even if I live to be a white-headed old woman!"

      
"Blair!" Adam exclaimed, his eyes widening momentarily at her anger. He stood and started toward her. "What are you doing here . . . ?" Then he stopped abruptly and visibly stiffened when Tom Bastrop walked inside, crossed his arms and leaned indolently against the door frame. Tom's mouth was twisted into a leering grin that Adam was positive only he could see.

      
"After what you did . . . you have the nerve to ask me what I am doing here? Why you, egotistical . . . inconsiderate . . ."

      
Adam raised his hands in a helpless gesture. "What in the world did I do?"

      
"It's what you didn't do!" She glared at him with vengeance. "Do you have any idea how Warren and I felt when we heard those gunshots? How long we waited in that hotel room . . . not knowing if you had been gunned down? How each tick of his watch made me think that you were dead! My God, Adam, I was frantic! I tried to get Warren to go find out what happened but he refused to leave us unguarded. But I honestly believe he thought it might have been a ruse to ... "

      
She shook her head and took a deep, ragged breath. "He is getting so distrustful about this entire situation, I am beginning to worry about him."

      
Though Blair was still obviously angry, her voice had gradually softened, "He kept telling me that you were all right, that you would have certain tasks to perform in the line of duty. But, Adam, we waited for so long! If Tom had not come to inquire about Coy, we still wouldn't know . . ."

      
Adam raked his hand through his hair. She had every right to be angry for the misery he unintentionally put her through. His forgetting to send word to them was inexcusable but he simply wasn't accustomed to having people worry about him. "Blair, I apologize for not letting you and Warren know I was all right, but . . ." Ignoring Bastrop's smirking grin, he glanced at Matthew and Seth, noting their expressions. "I've been busy, and . . . I am still very busy. I think we can discuss this later."

      
Her anger renewed itself as her gaze slowly swept the room, missing nothing. "Yes, I see how busy you are!" She sneered contemptuously, "For heaven's sake, don't let my worrying about you interfere with your sitting around drinking coffee with your . . . your cronies!"

      
"That's enough, Blair!" Adam's temper was beginning to rise. He didn't blame her for being angry, but now it seemed she was deliberately trying to humiliate him.

      
Chuckling, Seth stepped forward. "Deputy, this all sounds interesting — always have liked to see a pretty girl angry, makes them even prettier—but if we could finish our business, I could be on my way. You've given me back my gun, I've paid my bail or fine . . . whatever you want to call it, and it isn't that I don't trust you, but I'd like a receipt for it."

      
Admiration for his brother welled inside Adam over the way Seth both managed to convey his roguishness and explain the gun that was strapped low to his thigh, and still sound convincing. Then too, it got Blair off his back for a minute; maybe Seth's interruption would give her time to calm down.