Texas Tender (12 page)

“I hope Jordan means what he says,” she said to Carl once they were in the saddle and away from the house. “Of course, if we don't find that bull, he won't have to back up any of his promises.”

“I'm sure he means it, and I'm sure we'll find the bull,” Carl said. “Now stop trying to find something to complain about, and be glad the sheriff is better at talking to Jordan than you are.”

“Than either of us.”

“I've never talked with him before, but that was probably a good thing. He doesn't like it that Mara's sweet on me.”

“She says she's in love with Will.”

“I told you Will explained all that.”

“Then he needs to explain it to Mara's mother. I went to thank her for the coffee, and she couldn't stop telling me how wonderful Will is. If she has her way, your precious Mara will be married to him before the summer's out.”

“Will says he's too old for Mara. He's probably too old for you, too.”

Idalou didn't believe Will could ever be interested in her, but compared to Van, he was practically perfect. Even if he did have a way of making her lose her temper. She promised herself she'd be very careful how she behaved around him in the future. At the very least, she owed him a lot for bringing Jordan to a sense of his duty.

“I came to invite you for breakfast tomorrow,” Idalou said to Will. “I was going to invite you for supper, but it seems the ladies of Dunmore have already lined you up for lunch and supper for the next two weeks.”

Will's morning had been filled with a string of visits from at least half the female population of Dunmore. He'd had enough coffee for a roundup crew, enough sweet breads and cookies to hold a party for all the children in town, and enough invitations to
drop in
whenever he was in their direction to fill his
social calendar for weeks to come. He was regretting having asked that the town provide his meals. What had seemed like a harmless way to meet people and fill in the extra hours had turned into a nightmare.

“I could skip breakfast for the rest of my time in Dunmore and still have too much to eat,” Will said, pushing aside a plate of doughnuts. “Do I look underfed? Why is everyone trying to force-feed me?”

“Because you're male, single, attractive, and apparently rich,” said Idalou.

When she stopped and looked thoughtful, Will prepared himself for another devastating truth.

“Do you mind if I take some of that food with me?” she asked.

Will knew things weren't going well for her and Carl, but he'd had no idea they had to go hungry. “Take all of it if you want. I won't eat it.”

He didn't understand how she could laugh so easily if she was hungry enough to ask for food. “I'd never be able to eat a tenth of this,” she said.

“I'm sure Carl would enjoy the rest,” he suggested.

“Carl never eats sweets.”

Will was confused. “If you don't want it and Carl won't eat it, why . . .” He let the sentence trail off when Idalou blushed.

“I don't want it for us. There are some families in town that don't have much money. Their children never have anything like this. It would be a treat for them.”

Will felt relieved as well as embarrassed. “Send over all the hungry urchins you can find. I'll be happy to watch them devour every crumb.”

“Thanks,” Idalou said. “That's very generous of you. Now I have to thank you for talking to Jordan. I don't know what you said, but he's never been so agreeable.”

“I just reminded him that, as the richest and most powerful man in Dunmore, people would look to him to show them how they should behave. He's really a decent man. You just have to know how to talk to him.” He didn't expect Idalou to believe that, but he hoped Jordan wouldn't give her any more reason to disbelieve it.

“I'll take your word for it,” Idalou said. “Can you come at seven o'clock? Carl and I need to spend as much time as we can looking for that bull if he's still missing.”

Will was beginning to believe that somebody had taken the bull. He didn't know whether the bull had been stolen or someone was just hiding it until Idalou and Carl lost the ranch. With an animal that valuable, it was never wise to discount theft.

“As long as Jordan insists he doesn't have the bull, I can't go searching his property looking for it. If you want to swear out a complaint—”

“If he has the bull—and I'm certain he does—he would move it before you got there. All the same, I do appreciate what you did for us. And I apologize for saying you'd gone over to his side because you wanted to marry Mara. Whom you marry is none of my business.”

“Unless I wanted to marry you.”

“What?”

Idalou forgot to look furious, forgot that men ignored her because she was a woman, forgot she was about to lose her ranch. She looked confused, vulnerable, human. And prettier than ever.

“I just agreed with you. It wouldn't be your business unless I wanted to marry you.”

“But you don't.”

“I probably shouldn't marry anybody. I have it on good authority that I'm too spoiled to make a good husband.”

“I didn't say that.”

“No. My mother did, and she ought to know because she spoiled me.” Maybe spoiled wasn't the right word. She'd smothered him with all the love she'd once lavished on twelve children. It didn't matter that she now had more than a dozen grandchildren running about the Hill Country. Being under her roof, Will was closer.

“I'm sure she didn't mean it,” Idalou said.

“I'm sure she did. She rattled off a long list of examples to support her statement.” Will looked at all the food scattered around the office. “And this is proof she's right.”

He felt a little disgusted with the way things were going. He'd intended to come to Dunmore, buy the bull, then inform Jake and Isabelle he planned to move out and set up his own ranch. Now he couldn't leave town because nobody could find the damned bull, he was a sheriff with virtually nothing to do, the women of Dunmore were trying to kill him by force-feeding him, and every female over the age of eight found a reason to come by the office to gape at him at least once a day. If he had to listen to any more stories about cats and dogs that could have used rescuing in the past and might need it again—the story about Pepper had made the rounds the first night—he was going to swear off pets forever.

“People are just trying to be nice,” Idalou said. “Everybody likes you.”

“Everybody except you.”

She reacted with shock. “I like you.”

He hoped his smile was sympathetic, not accusatory. “You don't have to pretend. I dislike lots of people, and I don't intend to apologize for it.”

“I don't dislike you,” she stated firmly. “I don't understand you, but I don't dislike you.”

“What's so hard to understand? Isabelle says I'm so simple she sometimes worries that I might be stupid.”

Idalou's body lost some of its rigidity. “I think you're rather complex, and a lot smarter than anybody thinks.”

Will's eyes blinked in amazement. That was just about the nicest thing anybody had ever said to him. The fact that Idalou had been the one to say it was even more amazing.

“The only problem,” Idalou added, “is that you're too good-looking. People take one glance at you and their brains stop functioning.”

“And your brain doesn't stop functioning when you look at me?”

“Absolutely not. I'm not such a poor female as that!”

Will couldn't stop the smile. “I never thought you were a poor female. I'd say you were a rather splendid example of one.” It pleased him to see Idalou become confused and fidgety. Apparently, she wasn't the wildcat people made her out to be. Rather, she was a woman with sufficient spirit to fight back when people tried to ignore her or take advantage of her. Yet there was a soft side to her that responded to gentleness as well as compliments.

“I think somebody has been slipping something into your coffee,” Idalou said with a nervous laugh. “I'd throw out the rest of it if I were you.”

Aha! She was uncomfortable enough around him that she had to make an excuse for his having said something nice about her. She wasn't used to it, she didn't trust it, but she liked it nonetheless. She grew more interesting by the minute. He wondered if she'd have been more trusting and accepting if her parents had lived. He barely remembered his own parents. He didn't even remember the uncle who'd taken him in very well. For all practical purposes, Jake and Isabelle were the only parents he'd ever had. Life with them had been safe and secure with more than enough love for any orphan boy. They'd expected him to work hard, but they'd also spoiled him. He had a feeling that Idalou had had to be responsible long before her parents died.

“I don't think another cup or two will do me any
harm. It'll give me something to compare your coffee

to when I have breakfast with you tomorrow.”

“I can promise my coffee won't affect your brain.”

“My brother says my brain is already too small to be found,” he said.

“If he did say such a thing—which I tend to doubt—it was probably because you'd been practicing your
I'm-too-bone-idle-to-do-anything
act.”

Will hoped he didn't show just how startled he was. No one had ever caught on to him so fast. When you combined the fact that she was pretty and feminine with her willingness to tackle anything in pants, this woman could be dangerous.

“Not idle. Just unwilling to do things the hard way unless I'm forced.”

She studied him with an unwavering stare.

To break the tension, he said, “I'm headed over to Sonnenberg's place. Since he doesn't have a wife, I'm not in danger of being forced to eat anything.”

Idalou looked him over. “You don't look overfed to me.”

“I would be if I ate all this. Don't forget to round up your urchins.” He looked at the food and shook his head. “I doubt there's a pound of sugar or a spoonful of honey in all of Dunmore that hasn't been wrestled into some sweet intended for my consumption.”

Idalou choked. At least that was what it sounded like until she started laughing.

“I always thought a sheriff was supposed to protect the townspeople from thieves, murderers, and the occasional drunk,” she said when she managed to regain control of her voice. “It never occurred to me that we'd have to protect you from the wives and young women.”

“That's because you haven't been saddled with this face,” Will said pointing at himself.

“I'd never considered good looks a handicap before. I'll have to tell Carl. He's been making faces at himself in the mirror because he's angry he'll never look half as good as you.”

“Tell him to throw away his damned mirror. Mara fell in love with him just the way he is. She'll love him the same way once she gets over the excitement of my having saved her from Newt's attentions.”

“You tell him when you come to breakfast. He doesn't believe me.”

Will started putting the goodies in a paper sack.

“Moderation in all things,” he muttered to himself as his fingers grew sticky with sugar. “Too much of anything is a pain in the neck.”

Will had about decided that being sheriff was a cushy job. Okay, you probably had to handle a fight once in a while, but for the most part it consisted of walking around town, talking to people, and listening to their complaints about their lives . . . and sometimes about their neighbors.

He had expected that being followed by a posse of little boys who copied his every move would get tiresome, but so far it had given him an opportunity to get to know every urchin in town. If adults had any idea what their kids knew about them and didn't hesitate to tell anyone who'd listen, they'd lock their children up and never speak above a whisper. He could blackmail half the town if he wanted.

Doing rounds in the evening was different. The kids were home in bed, but the men were out getting drunk. Given his choice, Will would have stuck with the kids.

“Evening, Sheriff.”

Will greeted two men who hurried past him to one of the buildings, where beams of light and the sounds
of music and laughter beckoned. Women rarely ventured out after dark even when accompanied by their husbands, so the men felt relaxed enough to be themselves. Which pretty much meant they got stumbling drunk and began arguments. Will was considering a law that required wives and other female relatives, especially grandmothers and old-maid aunts, to roam the streets until the saloons closed. Few things could sober up a man faster than the sight of his mother or older sister approaching, encumbered with a load of wrath and indignation she was eager to pour over his head.

“Howdy, Sheriff. Quiet night so far.”

“It's early yet, Andy,” Will said to the owner of the mercantile. “Plenty of time for trouble.”

“Drop by the Swinging Door before you go to bed, and I'll stand you a whiskey if you have any trouble with anybody.”

“I'll take you up on that.”

Andy laughed and headed for the saloon while Will continued his rounds. Clouds had come in late in the afternoon to obscure the moon, plunging the streets into darkness. Will had just told himself it was the perfect kind of night for trouble when he heard the sounds of a scuffle. He could tell the sounds were coming from deep in the alley between the lawyer's office and the barbershop. Feeling for his gun, he charged into the alley.

The sounds were actually coming from behind the lawyer's office. Newt was in a fistfight with Mort, one of Idalou's cowhands.

“Break it up, Newt,” Will shouted, “or I'll put a bullet into you.” Newt hit Mort one last time, then stepped back.

“Remember what I said,” he growled at Mort.