The Outlaw Bride (4 page)

Connor pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and dropped wearily into it. “The woman didn’t come to Fatal Bluff to be someone’s housekeeper. She came to be someone’s wife.”

“Then you could make her your wife.”

“I don’t want a wife.” The sharp words ricocheted inside the room, trapped by the emptiness.

Amelia wiped her hands on the red checkered dishtowel. She had brought a handful just like it to his brother’s kitchen several weeks ago. Pain clenched around his heart.
His
kitchen, now.

“This girl refused Walter Figg. Doesn’t sound like she was all that fired up to get married to just anyone.” She tossed the towel onto the counter, where it landed in a tumbled heap. “You should hire her while you have the chance, before someone else snatches her up.”

The idea of anyone snatching the pretty young bride left his insides unsettled, but he forced his mind away from that. He had enough to deal with. Hannah Stockdale was a grown woman who could take care of herself. She didn’t need his protection. Nor was he inclined to give it.

Amelia smacked the palm of her hand down on the counter. “Now you listen to me, Connor—”

Connor held up a hand. “Amelia—”

“Don’t you try and shush me. I mean to say my piece and you had better mean to listen, ’cause I’ll not be sayin’ it more than once.”

Well, that was something. He let out a sharp gust of air and resigned himself to his fate. “Fine. Have your say.”

Amelia gave a short bob of her head “Come with me.”

Connor hesitated a moment, then reluctantly lifted himself out of the chair and trudged along behind through the narrow door that led out to the backyard of the boardinghouse. Amelia stopped short on the doorstep and pointed toward the far corner of the small fenced-in yard. A swing hung from the thick branch of an old white oak that shadowed the better half of the vegetable garden beyond it.

Highlighted by the waning sunlight, Jenny sat on the gently swaying swing. Spindly legs peeked out from the hem of her blue dress and bare feet dragged slowly across the small patch of earth just below her.

She looked up as if she could feel their silent perusal. Connor lifted his hand and splayed his fingers in a wave. Jenny returned her attention to the ground without even the slightest acknowledgement. Wheat-colored tresses, reminiscent of his own at that age, fell forward, covering her face.

Connor’s jaw tightened. He tried to ignore the stab of rejection that sliced at his heart.

“Do you see what I see?” Amelia asked, her tone demanding an answer.

He swallowed past the hurt. “I see Jenny.”

“No,” Amelia said, rounding on him with hands firmly planted on hips, a sure sign she meant business. “What you see is a little girl that needs a ma.”

Connor opened his mouth to protest, but Amelia’s hand cut through the air before he got any words out.

“Don’t try and tell me you’re doing just fine on your own. You’ve gotten by these past six months with the help of me and my daughters. But I have my own business and my own household to run, and so do they. I can’t be going back and forth between your place and here anymore. And I can’t give Jenny the attention she needs. You need to find yourself a permanent solution.”

Connor stared down at the smoothly sanded step. Bart and Amelia had been in his life since the time he was Jenny’s age. He had always counted on them. When his parents passed away, they had filled the void left in their absence, and when Emily—

Connor bit down on the memory and stared at Jenny. He had taken advantage. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly realizing what Amelia had given up to help him out. At the time, he had been too relieved to consider it. Now, all these months later, it stared him in the face and demanded an accounting.

“You know I love you like a son, Connor. But Jenny needs a real ma. I’ll take her for one more day, but beyond that you need to make other arrangements.”

Amelia walked around him and back into the kitchen. Connor sputtered in the wake of her announcement. One day? What the hell—!

He swallowed the space between them with desperate strides, chasing Amelia back into the kitchen. “How am I going to find somebody in one day?”

Amelia turned to face him, a sly smile creasing her weathered cheeks. “You almost had yourself a bride today, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I almost had a bride eight years ago too,” Connor shot back, bitterness twisting each word.

“The past is dead and gone, Connor—and so is Emily. But Jenny’s still here and she needs a ma.”

Connor threw his arms up in surrender. “And just what do you suggest I do? Go upstairs and offer this woman marriage so she can play mother to a child that doesn’t belong to her? Because that’s all it would be, Amelia. I’ve got nothing else left to give.”

Amelia poked him hard in the chest, showing more gumption than any man in town. “You have more than you think if you’d knock down that wall you’ve got built ’round your heart. Besides, you could use a good woman in your bed, Connor Langston. And don’t bother throwing me one of those fierce glares you’re so famous for. You know I’m right whether you care to admit it or not.”

Connor’s mouth clamped shut. He tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d held the warmth and softness of a woman. It did no good to think on things now beyond his control.

“This young woman is stranded with no family and no money and now—thanks to you—the Hewitts are breathing down her neck. I can’t have her living in my boardinghouse indefinitely. I run a business, Connor, not a home for wayward brides. Now, she needs your help, and Lord knows you need hers. Help each other.” Amelia gave him a pointed look. “Not because you want to, but because Jenny needs you to.”

Connor peered through the small window that overlooked the backyard. The sun was quickly fading to shadows. Soon Jenny would be swallowed up by the encroaching dark.

Amelia was right. He knew it. But old hurts died hard, digging their claws into his heart and refusing to budge. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Yet another failure he could add to the list.

“I can’t,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I just can’t.”

Amelia stared at him for a moment then shook her head. “Well, you had better come up with something. I’ll stay with Jenny at the house tomorrow and get some chores done. But after that…” She shook her head and the quiet resonance of her voice drifted on the evening air. “I love you both, but tomorrow is my last day.”

Katherine dragged a sleeve across her forehead and squinted into the sun that had crept to the middle of the sky, beating down upon her with a relentless heat.

The last gasp of summer, Mr. McCorkindale from the bakery had called it, right before he told her that while he appreciated she needed the work, he simply wasn’t hiring.

It was the same answer at every other shop in town. She had been to each of them, until they all began to resemble one another and she could recite the shopkeeper’s answer verbatim before she even asked the question. No one seemed interested in employing a stranger, especially not one who had made a spectacle of herself at the train station the day before.

Oh, they all tut-tutted and clucked their tongues over her predicament. A few even gave her an encouraging pat on the hand before sending her on her way. But, despite the sympathetic shakes of their heads, no one had any use for her.

Now the day was near spent and she was no closer to solving the pickle she found herself in than when she’d left the boardinghouse earlier that morning. Her shoes pinched her feet, dust covered her skirt, her stomach growled to be fed and her head buzzed with the knowledge that her options had dwindled down to one.

Katherine stood outside The Last Chance Saloon. She twisted her mouth to one side. Aptly named.

The hum of masculine voices, mixed with the tinkling of glasses and ladies’ ribald laughter, filtered out onto the boarded sidewalk. If no reputable business would hire her, the disreputable ones surely would. Hadn’t the man at the boardinghouse yesterday stated he needed new girls?

Bile rushed up from her belly. She didn’t want to do this, to turn out like her mother. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t leave town, not without fulfilling her promise. Her word was the only thing of value she owned. If she gave it up, she’d be left with nothing.

Maybe the owner would be content to let her serve drinks? She could put up with having her backside pinched and dodging the groping hands of drunken men. Anything would be preferable to tossing her skirts up for anyone willing to pay the price.

Tears burned her eyes and another wave of nausea roiled in her belly. Katherine swallowed and straightened her shoulders. With trembling hands, she gripped the shuttered wood of the swinging door and pushed it open.

***

Bart peered through the smoky haze of his cheroot. “You any closer to findin’ someone to take care of Jenny? Day’s almost over.”

Connor gave a dejected shake of his head and stared down at the scarred tabletop. He toyed with the idea of begging Amelia to give him more time, but he knew the plea would fall on deaf ears. Once she made her mind up, God himself couldn’t budge her.

“No.” The word dragged a weary sigh out with it. Lord, but he felt old. At barely thirty, tired and worn out had become his closest friends. Even a simple conversation became a taxing event.

A drink plunked down in front of him.

“Here you go, Sheriff. Anythin’ else I can get ya?”

Connor glanced up into the painted face of Lucy Mae. Though younger than him, she had the hard, beaten-down appearance of a woman well beyond her years.

He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re lookin’ a little tense, Sheriff. I can take care of that for ya. Jus’ give lil’ ole Lucy a chance and I’ll have you singin’ a new tune in no time.”

Connor stared down at the whiskey she had brought him, tipping the glass one way then the other. The amber liquid sloshed back and forth, nearly overrunning the rim.

“I’ll think I’ll pass, Lucy Mae.” He’d never learned a graceful way to turn down such a proposition.

The barmaid pouted, but it lacked the sincerity of someone truly hurt. “Suit yourself, honey.”

She whirled away in a froth of lace, feathers and stale perfume to work her wares on a more receptive table of customers.

Bart took a drag on his cheroot and tapped the ashes onto the floor of the saloon. He raised his voice just enough to be heard over the tinny strains of an out-of-tune piano. “You still got one option left. My guess is Miss Stockdale’d be willing if’n you’d just ask her.”

“I’m not asking her. Besides, once she earned the money, she’d be gone. And having one more person leave is the last thing Jenny needs.”

“Why would she leave? She lost everything back in Kansas. Seems to me she’d be lookin’ to set down some roots and start over. You sure it’s Jenny you’re worried about being left behind, and not yourself?”

Connor glowered at Bart, but left the question unanswered. Unfortunately his silence was not enough to deter the old man from continuing.

“Eight years is a long time to be nursin’ a grudge. You plannin’ on spending the rest of your life alone?”

The notion had appealed to Connor at one time. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Lately, the idea of living the rest of his life on his own seemed a rather lonely proposition. Still, loneliness wasn’t enough to convince him to trust, to give his heart again.

“Leave it alone, Bart.”

Bart crossed his arms over his narrow chest and tilted his head to one side. “You been gittin’ right ornery day after day. Maybe Amelia’s right. Maybe you do need a woman.” He pointed a finger at Connor’s chest. “And I ain’t talkin’ about havin’ her clean your house.”

Connor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The stink of sweat and cheap women closed in on him. “And what do you suppose I do about that? Call Lucy Mae back and take her up on her offer, so I can spend the next six months listening to everyone hash it over like they had some right?” Hell, a man couldn’t pass gas around here without the town discussing what he had for dinner.

Bart took one last drag of his smoke and eased the chair back onto all fours. With a flick of his thumb and finger, the butt hit the floor next to him. He ground it into the sawdust with the heel of his boot.

“Well, maybe Garrett’s new girl will be a little more discreet.”

“What new girl?”

Bart nodded toward the bar. “The one he’s about to hire.”

Ice invaded Connor’s veins. He knew what he’d find even before he turned around. His stomach jolted at the sight of her standing at the bar, Garrett hovering over her like a hungry wolf about to pounce. Though her limp felt hat prevented him from seeing her face, Miss Stockdale’s hands were clasped so tightly against her stomach he could see the whites of her knuckles from nearly halfway across the room.

“What the hell is she doing in here?”

Bart shrugged. “I ’spect she’s lookin’ for a job. Word is everyone else in town turned her down. Guess they thought if they said no, you’d have to say yes.”

Connor’s attention snapped back to Bart. “What?”

“Maybe you don’t want to admit you need a wife, but this town has other ideas. Far as they’re concerned, you get yourself a wife, get settled, less chance of you wandering off again for years on end, less chance they’ll have to go lookin’ for a new sheriff.”

Connor relaxed a little. “Then Garrett won’t hire her?”

“Garrett Bentley don’t much care if you stay or go. He jus’ cares about makin’ money. And a pretty lil’ thing like that tending to his customers will draw men in here like bees to honey.”

A band tightened around Connor’s neck, cutting off his air. “She can’t work here.”

“She ain’t got much choice now, does she? Seems some mean ole sheriff told her she had to repay Oliver.”

He swung around and gave Bart an incredulous look. “This is my fault?”

Bart shrugged again. “Maybe. Maybe not. Question is, are you going to help the lil’ lady out? Or are you gonna leave her to the likes of Bentley?”

His heart hammered in his chest. He turned in his chair to look at her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen someone look more alone. Dammit.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

“This is blackmail.”

“Ain’t no such thing. You don’t have to do anything. She ain’t your responsibility. I’m just sayin’, if’n you don’t want a wife, you still need a housekeeper, and she needs a job. Seems like a winning proposition all the way around.”

“I can’t have her living up at the house with me. People would talk. It—it would ruin her reputation.” He sat back with a satisfied nod.

Bart lifted one bushy eyebrow. “And workin’ here won’t?”

Connor’s satisfaction fizzled. “I can’t—”

“You can. You can and ain’t no one gonna look funny at her for acceptin’. Everyone knows the situation. They know you’re an honorable man. And if someone makes a stink ’bout it, tell them you’re sleeping in the barn.”

“I’m not sleeping in the barn!”

Bart gave a self-satisfied smirk. “I didn’t say you
had
to, I said you can tell people that.”

“So I’m honorable but I should lie?”

“No, you should stop mincing words with me and get up there before Garrett has her dressed up in feathers and lace and prancing around offering men drinks and
whatnot
.”

Connor closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against the lids but the image refused to be rubbed away and a sick sensation pooled in his gut. He’d been painted into a corner but good and Bart damn well knew it. No man with an ounce of self-respect would let a woman like Miss Stockdale prostitute herself for the sake of a train fare. Especially not a train fare he’d ordered her to repay.

Connor lifted the whiskey to his lips and took a sip. It slid down his throat with a welcome burn. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I want it noted I am not happy about it.”

Bart grinned, his dark eyes sparkling with victory. “Duly noted, son.”

With a scowl firmly planted on his features, Connor slammed back the remainder of the whiskey in one searing gulp and pushed back his chair.

Miss Stockdale had her narrow back to him, remaining oblivious to his approach. Only Garrett noticed and issued a warning look. One Connor promptly ignored.

“I realize your, uh, clientele expect a certain type of, um, service, Mr. Bentley, but if I could maybe just serve the drinks and leave the…the…” She rolled her hand, as if she could grab the appropriate word out of the air.

“That won’t be necessary,” Connor cut in, saving Miss Stockdale from finishing her sentence.

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice and whirled around. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks a pretty shade of rose.

Though his eyes hardened, Garrett’s voice remained smooth and friendly. “You mind, Sheriff? Me and the lady are discussing business.”

“The lady doesn’t have any business with you.”

“I—I don’t?” Miss Stockdale bit her lower lip, dragging her teeth over its fullness. God, he wished she wouldn’t do that.

Connor shook his head. He had to be ten times the fool to go through with this. He rushed the words out before his brain caught up to his mouth and he changed his mind. “I’ve decided I could use a housekeeper after all.”

Before Miss Stockdale could thank him properly, Garrett cut in. “Now wait just a minute, Langston. I got first dibs on her. She’s willing to serve my customers drinks and I’m willing to have her do so. We’ve already agreed to it.”

“We have?” Miss Stockdale spun back to face the bar owner, the pale yellow calico moving loosely against her small frame. She really was a little wisp of a thing. No match for the drunken louts that filled this place after dark.

“Yes ma’am. Job’s yours if you want it.”

Connor pictured his hands reaching out and squeezing the width of Garrett’s neck, choking him. “That won’t be necessary. Like I said, I’ve hired her.”

“And I said I’ve hired her as—”

“Gentlemen!”

Connor glanced down at Miss Stockdale in surprise. She tossed her gaze between the two of them. “While I appreciate that you both want to hire me, I think in the end it comes down to one thing.”

“Which is?” Frustration edged Connor’s voice. How could she not jump at his offer? Did she really want to be working here? Had he misjudged her?

“Money,” Garrett finished, with a grin. “And I’m willing to pay ten dollars a month, with room and board. Any tips the customers throw your way are yours to keep.”

Miss Stockdale turned to Connor, expectation rife in her pretty green eyes. He did a quick calculation. He’d saved a tidy sum over the years bounty hunting and his current salary afforded him a decent living if not a spectacular one.

“Twelve dollars a month, plus room and board.”

“Fifteen,” Garrett piped up.

Connor gritted his teeth. He couldn’t go much higher. He had Jenny to think of. “Fifteen,” he ground out, pulling his lips into a grim line. “And you can keep your reputation intact and work without the threat of being groped and propositioned every two minutes.”

“How’s she going to keep her reputation intact living out on the edge of town with you?”

“I’ll sleep in the barn,” Connor answered, the lie slipping easily off his tongue. So much for honor.

“We have a deal.”

She stuck out her hand. Reluctantly, Connor took it and tried to ignore the uncomfortable sense of foreboding as her fingers squeezed his hand.

***

Katherine still couldn’t believe her luck, or the insanity it took to accept a job that brought her in such close proximity to the law. And exactly what was this lawman’s connection to Grant Langston? It was too much of a coincidence to think there wasn’t one. Brothers, maybe? Possible, though she couldn’t see any hint of a resemblance between the two men. It would be just her luck if they were.

When Grant had told her to tell “Con” he was sorry and pass along the letter he’d given her, she assumed “Con” was a shortened form for Constance, that she was searching for the girl he mentioned, for a wife or sweetheart. She never dreamed there would be two separate people she needed to track down.

Or that one of them would have a sheriff’s badge pinned to his chest.

The horse’s easy gait carried them away from town. Even in her acceptance, Katherine had never once considered she and Connor would be this close. She kept her arms wrapped securely around Connor’s middle. Her fisted hands rested against the hard ridges of his stomach while her body burned from the friction of bouncing against his back. Heat melted into her and the total effect left her senses reeling. A fact she found more than a little disconcerting.