Audrey and the Maverick (3 page)

Jim said nothing as he tallied her purchases; the quiet was oppressive. How could she leave the children? How could she give herself to McCaid?

“That’s eleven dollars, Audrey,” Jim said quietly.

She counted the money in her reticule. It wasn’t enough. It never was enough. “I only have four dollars and fifty cents.”

“That’ll do.”

Audrey handed him the money. “No, it won’t, but it’s all I have now. I’ll pay you the rest, I swear it.”

“Audrey—” Jim began.

She shook her head, still unable to look at him. “I have to go. Thanks, as always.” Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to shed them.

“Audrey!”

“What?” she asked, dragging her head up.

Jim took his apron off and slapped it on the counter. He exchanged looks with Sally. “We’ve been thinking—for some time now—that Malcolm is of an age where we could move him up to apprentice. I’d pay him a good wage. A dollar a day. Or he can take his pay in trade.”

“You’d do that?”

He nodded. “Malcolm’s been working for me a long time, doing odd jobs. He’s honest and dependable.”

The burning in her eyes was becoming intolerable. She sniffled, then nodded. “Thank you. I’m not sure what I did to earn friends like you and Sally, but I am grateful. I’ll send Malcolm to talk to you this afternoon.”

“You be careful. You’ll be alone out there.” Jim opened the door for her. “It can get mighty messy in those working camps.” He stopped her on the threshold of his store. “You know what the boys around here have done before and are likely to do again to McCaid and his flock. I expect it’ll get real ugly.”

Audrey nodded, but his warning had little impact; first she had to find the strength to leave her family. Then she would worry about McCaid’s range wars.

Audrey took a steaming pot from the oven and set it on the stovetop. The children moved into a circle about her, hunger causing them to hover near at hand. She looked at the face of each child. This was their last dinner together for a very long time. What would they do without her? What would she do without them? She gave herself a mental shake and shoved those thoughts aside. There was nothing anyone could do about her situation, and if she broke down in front of the kids, it would only make their parting harder.

She sent the children outside to wash up at the water pump the houses on this end of the street shared. Her neighbor, Leah Morgan, leaned a hip against the counter and glared at her. Leah was the most beautiful girl Audrey had ever seen, with her rich mahogany hair and eyes that were sometimes dark blue, sometimes, as they were now, violet with anger.

“You don’t have to do this,” Leah quietly declared.

A sharp puff of laughter broke from Audrey’s mouth. “What are my choices? He’s threatening the children. You know what he’s capable of—he shot your father, Leah. Murdering a child would be nothing to him. I do have to do this.”

“I could kill him for you,” Leah quietly offered.

A chill rolled down Audrey’s spine as she held her friend’s unwavering gaze. This was what Kemp had brought them to—pickpocketing and murder. “No, you won’t, Leah Morgan. Don’t get involved in this. Promise me.”

Leah crossed her arms and stayed silent.

“Kemp has half a dozen men around him at all times. They are everywhere—on the corners, in the alleys, on the roofs. As good a hunter as you are, Leah, you would be killed. But even if you were successful, without Kemp, who would keep his men in line? As bad as it is, it could quickly become worse. I have to do what he says.”

“But you don’t have to give yourself to McCaid. You can find another way of distracting him.”

“How?” Audrey’s knowledge of men was sadly lacking. She had no idea how she was going to keep him busy for a month, whether she seduced him or not. The children grew noisier outside as they returned from the pump, preventing Leah from answering. Her friend gave her one last glare, then started to put out a stack of plates. Audrey focused on setting out the food—more than any of them had seen in the last month. It was a feast, indeed, with the bread and the big pot of braised rabbit in gravy Leah provided and the mashed potatoes, carrots, peas, and apple pie Audrey made.

She dished out the food, watching the children’s anxious, lean faces as they took their plates and waited for her to say grace. The table was too small and there were too few chairs to seat everyone, so they scattered about the room, some sitting on the floor, others on her bed. The room was silent as Audrey blessed the meal and her growing family. Afterward, the clatter of silverware against plates was the only sound to be heard as everyone concentrated on eating. Audrey’s throat was strangely constricted, making it hard to swallow. She moved the food from one side of the plate to the other, hoping her lack of appetite would not be noticed.

Fortunately the silence didn’t last. As the meal began to warm their stomachs, the children’s chatter began to fill the room. Two of the older ones, Luc and Kurt, regaled the others with a story about McCaid.

“He marched into Sam’s,” Kurt said. His hazel eyes animated, a lock of blond hair falling into his face, he captured the children’s attention like a pied piper. “Bold as you please, he was, and ordered up a big steak. Hammer and Paul tried to scare him off, but he weren’t having none of that. When they tried to rough him up—pow!” Kurt slammed his fist into his palm for effect, nearly overturning his plate. “He took care of ’em. He tripped Paul, making him fall so hard his skull cracked open. And he smashed Hammer’s nose.” Silence engulfed the room as the children listened with rapt attention.

Luc watched the other kids, his dark brown eyes missing nothing. “And he never even got up out of his chair,” he added. “He was sitting the whole while!”

“That’s enough of such talk, Kurt, Luc,” Audrey warned the boys. The reproachful glare Leah gave her did little to alleviate her tension.

“It’s true. It happened just like that,” Kurt responded. “That’s one mean Cherokee. He’s come for Kemp. Tired of being stoled blind, they say. Tired of having his sheep slaughtered, his men killed.”

“Who says?” she asked, trying to find out who they’d been talking to.

Kurt’s gaze shot to Luc. “Folks,” he said with a shrug, not looking at her.

Audrey set her plate down. If it was true, if McCaid had come back because of Kemp, things in this town would get mighty bloody. Maybe that was why the sheriff wanted him distracted—he needed a chance to bring in more men. It was doubtful whether anyone involved in the coming trouble would care if children got caught in the crossfire, especially if they were her odd collection of orphans.

“What’s wrong, Audrey?” Malcolm asked.

She looked about the room, meeting the eyes of each child. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” The room fell silent. They all knew the sheriff had forced her into an arrangement with McCaid, just not when it was going to start—and hopefully not its true nature. Little Mabel started crying. Colleen patted her shoulder. Luc and Kurt swapped looks, and their conspiratorial exchange was not lost on Audrey.

“Are you coming back?” Joey and Colleen both asked. Leah crossed her arms and frowned at her.

Audrey held up her hands to quiet the room so she could explain. “Of course I’ll be back. Mr. McCaid has offered me a job as camp cook. It’s only for a month—until he can find a permanent one.” The children silently accepted her announcement, and seeing their stoic reaction, she wished for the thousandth time she had gotten them out of Defiance long before this.

“Everything will continue around here as usual. Each of you will still be responsible for the chores assigned to you. Maddie will continue seeing to your lessons. We won’t be taking in any washing while I’m away, so there won’t be that work to do. Leah will oversee planting the vegetable garden. Jim will buy whatever extras come from the garden—we could put away a little money for the winter, so be sure to give her all the help she needs. I’ll be home in a month to help maintain it. Nothing will be ripe by then anyhow.”

“Can we come with you? We could help you at Hell’s Gulch like we do here,” Mabel said.

Audrey shook her head. “Mr. McCaid’s ranch is no place for children. I’ve heard he’s paying fighting wages. You know how folks around here feel about sheep—he’s expecting trouble. I want you all to stay here, away from the worst of it.” Audrey sighed. “I will be taking Amy Lynn with me, however. The rest of you are old enough to look after each other, and you’re needed here. She’s barely three years old and will just be more work for you.”

Audrey ventured a look at Malcolm and winced at the glare he gave her. Choking out an oath, he lurched to his feet and went outside. She was torn between following him and letting him be alone to work through the shock of her news.

Leah got up and took her plate. “Go. Talk to him.”

Outside, Audrey saw her brother head down the street toward the empty prairie that surrounded the eastern side of town. “Malcolm! Wait.” She ran after him. He neither slowed his pace nor acknowledged her presence. His hands were shoved into the front pockets of his trousers. He was breathing hard through flared nostrils, his lips curled against his teeth.

The night air was cool, and Audrey had run out without a wrap. She crossed her arms and walked quietly beside him. The tall prairie grass hissed and crunched beneath their feet. Grasshoppers jumped out of her way. They walked until they reached a dry creek bed.

Audrey loved her brother more than anyone in the world. She’d been seventeen and he fourteen when they lost their parents almost four years ago. Their father had come back from the war, wounded and ill. He never recovered. And her mother had died later that year—of a broken heart, Audrey was convinced. They were orphaned in Defiance, just the two of them to raise each other, along with Dulcie, Luc, and Mabel.

“McCaid’s going to make a whore out of you.”

Audrey swallowed hard. “Listen to me very carefully, Malcolm. This isn’t McCaid’s fault.”

“Why did he have to come back anyway?” He glared at her. “Why now, Audrey?”

“I don’t know. Something is going on, something bad. You’ve got to watch the kids, keep them out of trouble.” She looked into his eyes, a darker, stormier green than her own. When had he gotten so tall? “When I get back, we’re leaving Defiance. We’ll go to Cheyenne or Denver. Or even to the States somewhere. Anywhere. We can’t stay here. It gets worse every day.”

“We’ll be ready.” He made a face as he fought back a mouthful of words better left unspoken. “I don’t want you to go with McCaid. You won’t be safe. And it’s not right, you out there alone. I should have done something. I should have protected you better.”

Audrey closed her eyes. She struggled to find the words to help him accept this situation, but there were none. Her shoulders dropped beneath the weight they carried. Nothing good was going to come of what she would be doing when she left town tomorrow.

“There’s nothing you could have done. Nothing anyone could do. Please, promise me you won’t confront the sheriff. He’s meaner than I’ve ever seen him.”

He drew her into a tight hug. “Promise me,” she insisted, clinging to him.

“I promise I won’t do something stupid.”

“Malcolm—”

“I promise, Audrey.”

She pulled away and looked up at him. “You’ll have to hold the children to task for their chores, keep discipline among them. Keep things as normal as possible. I hope I’ll be able to come into town occasionally. Leah said she would help with the kids in the afternoons and on Saturdays, while you work. And you know Jim and Sally will do what they can. And Maddie too.”

He smiled, acknowledging her with a nod, but even dusk’s fading light couldn’t hide the heartache in his eyes.

The children were asleep. It had been easier than usual to get them to settle down since their stomachs were full. She prepared her bag for the trip and was just starting to set the tiny house to rights when she heard Leah’s pet wolf howl next door. The ethereal sound changed to a bark, then a growl. Her whole body tensed when her front gate opened and booted footsteps climbed to her porch. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her, hoping the children had not heard the men—or the wolf.

“Hello, Sheriff.” She looked beyond Kemp to a couple of his newer henchmen, taking stock of the situation.

“Hello, Audrey,” Kemp answered, keeping his voice as low as hers. “Didn’t wake you, did I? Surely, you were expecting me?”

“What do you want?”

He smiled with false joviality. “I want to set some rules for your upcoming job.” He took hold of her throat and shoved her against the doorjamb.

“See these two boys behind me? They’re going to hire on with the breed. And you’re not going to tell a soul about it. ’Cause if anything happens to either of them, stuff will start happening to those snot-nosed orphans you care so much about. Bad stuff. What I do to them will make you think long and hard about cheatin’ me next time.” He grinned. “Long and hard.”

The sound of a rifle being cocked broke into the tension. “Get your hands off her, Sheriff,” Leah calmly ordered as she stared down the rifle barrel toward him. Her enormous wolf stood next to her, his teeth bared.

The sheriff straightened and pulled away. “Put that down, Leah, and call off your mangy dog. We were just leaving anyhow.” Kemp and his boys moved down the steps and exited Audrey’s yard. He waggled a finger at her. “Remember what I said, girl, or it’ll go bad for you and them kids!”

Leah kept her rifle trained on the men until they turned the corner; then she jumped the low fence between their yards and ran up the steps to check on her friend. “Are you hurt? What did they want?”

Audrey swiped the tears from her face. Her hands shook. She hated her own weakness. “When I come back, we’re leaving this town, Leah,” she vowed in a quiet whisper. “Anywhere’s got to be better than here.”

Julian spotted Audrey’s house as soon as he turned down her street. The houses at this end of the small town could generously be called shanties—such a contrast to the buildings only a block away. Audrey’s house, though just as tumbledown as its neighbors, had a pretty yard. A few late daffodils peeked bright yellow heads out between the weathered slats of the picket fence. She had tamed some wild blue flax for her garden bed. Chickens roamed freely, pecking and scratching at the soil. Though the yard was fine, her house was ragged. Julian wondered why she’d been so hesitant to leave it.

Before he had even set the brake, Audrey stepped outside with a little girl in tow. The child was a fetching imp, bundled as she was in a dress that went past her knees and a heavy woolen coat. She wore a yellow bonnet whose bow consumed the entire space of her neck.

Julian’s gaze moved to Audrey. A large, worn bonnet masked her face. She held on to the little girl with one hand, and in the other she carried an old carpetbag stuffed near to popping. She went down the steps and set her bag down, then turned to help the little girl down the steps, sending a harried look toward the house. Julian wondered if a man was going to come charging out of the door, brandishing a rifle.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said to the toddler as they hurried to the gate.

Julian leapt down to help them up into the wagon. He set her carpetbag in the back of the loaded wagon, then lifted the toddler up onto the middle of the bench seat.

“Hello, mister,” the little girl greeted him, cocking her head and giving him a cherubic grin of petite, white teeth.

This close to her, he could see the riot of blond curls her bonnet half hid. He would never have recognized her as the baby he’d seen last year.

“Good morning, miss.” Julian found himself grinning at the little girl in a way he’d seen his father do a thousand times and instantly pulled the foolish expression from his face. His father loved children—he had a gift with them. Julian made a policy of avoiding them as he would a contagious disease. “What’s your name?” he asked, surprised he wanted to win another smile from this baby angel.

“Amy Lynn,” she said, her pronunciation shockingly perfect. “What’s yours?”

“Julian.”

She nodded, her face serious. “Juli,” she announced, unknowingly using the nickname his siblings had given him years ago.

“He’s Mr. McCaid to us, Amy,” Audrey corrected.

Julian turned to her to assist her up to the bench, but halted as his hand wrapped around her elbow. She had tried unsuccessfully to hide vivid bruises on her neck with her bonnet’s ribbon. The marks dotted her neck in a pattern suspiciously resembling a handprint. “What happened? Who did that to you?”

“I fell.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You fell with a man’s hand at your throat?” Julian eyed her another moment, neither getting, nor expecting, an answer. He looked back at the house. His hand strayed to the rifle lying under the wagon bench. “Who’s in the house, Miss Sheridan?”

Her gaze shot to the gun beneath his hand, and the terror that struck her face was like water bursting through a wall. “No one.”

He looked from her to the house behind her. “No one,” he repeated. “Then who’s going to take care of your chickens?”

“I have a brother, but he’s at work this morning. There is no one in the house, Mr. McCaid.”

“Did your brother do this to you?”

“No. I told you. I fell.”

Not satisfied with her answer, Julian accepted that she wouldn’t be forthcoming. “We’d best be off.” He helped her into the wagon, wondering at her bruises, wondering if there were others he couldn’t see. He looked from Audrey to the skinny cherub next to her. She tucked her hands between her knees and hunched her shoulders as she stared back at him with big brown eyes, her expression a little anxious, a little hopeful.

Whatever the cause of Audrey’s desperate actions, Julian doubted she would allow Amy Lynn to get caught in the crossfire. He climbed up into the wagon, ignoring the sudden itching between his shoulder blades. When he bent over to take up the reins, his gaze caught on Amy Lynn’s odd shoes. The leather had been cut out of the tips of her boots to give her feet growing room. Her little toes hugged the edge of the thick leather soles. The black stockings covering her legs were worn thin and scarred with a multitude of mendings. Julian’s gaze shot to Audrey, and he instantly wished he’d never looked at her. Her chin lifted. She offered him defiance in the face of his discovery.

Defiance.

Swallowing an oath, he slapped the reins and the horses pulled out.

Amy turned around on the wagon bench, kneeling to watch behind them. Audrey looked back toward the house. All the children had come outside, standing stoically, watching the wagon roll away. None of them waved. Audrey felt as if an invisible hand reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs like the folds of an accordion. She couldn’t breathe. This was wrong. She couldn’t leave the children. She looked at the hard profile of the man driving them away, farther every second from the seven little souls standing in her yard, desperately in need of her.

“McCaid.” His name came out as a whisper. He didn’t hear her. She couldn’t speak with the vise clamping her chest. She reached over and gripped his sleeve. “Stop. Please,” she managed to rasp.

“Whoaaa—” he called to the team of horses, pulling them to a stop as they rounded the bend in the road. Ahead of them was the open prairie, miles and miles of empty rangeland.

“What is it?” he asked, his brow knitted with concern.

“I can’t do this. I can’t leave.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t, that’s all. I can’t do this.”

“I see. Then how are you going to repay the debt you owe me?”

Audrey studied his face. His lips were thinned, his dark eyes unreadable. “I—I take in laundry. I could do your laundry.”

“Hell’s Gulch is a helluva long way from town, so that’s not exactly a convenient option. Besides, the sum you took would cover my laundry for a year,” he scoffed. “I’ll only be here the summer.”

Audrey looked behind the wagon. She was grateful her house was out of sight—she didn’t want to run the risk that McCaid would see the children. “I share a vegetable garden with a friend. I could give you my portion of its harvest.”

McCaid shook his head. “Your little garden looked scarce big enough to support you and Amy Lynn. How would you make it provide for a camp full of hungry men?”

Tears stung Audrey’s eyes, but she refused to shed them. If she could get him to change his mind about taking her out to his ranch, surely the sheriff would relent? Her gaze lifted to his face. “You could forgive the debt.”

He studied her a long moment. “I could, but then how would you learn there are repercussions for your actions?”

Audrey met his gaze unflinchingly. He wasn’t going to give an inch. She watched as his gaze lowered to her lips, pausing there before slowly meeting her eyes again. She was no fool. She knew what men wanted from women, what he wanted from her. Perhaps it would make what she had to do easier.

“What else have you to bargain with?” he asked.

Her eyes traveled across the hard planes of his face, seeing his high cheekbones, his square jaw, the faint cleft in his chin. His mouth was wide, his lips molded by strong curves. A heat crept up her neck and into her face.

She couldn’t do this. Not yet. Not like this. “I have nothing.” Her voice was a whisper.

“So then, camp cook or town jail? Which is it, Miss Sheridan?”

Audrey shut her eyes. God help her. “Camp cook.”

McCaid lifted the reins and called to the horses. Amy Lynn climbed onto Audrey’s lap as the wagon lurched forward. Audrey hugged her foster daughter tightly.

The children would be okay, she told herself. Malcolm would be there. And Leah and Wolf. And Jim and Sally and Maddie would help out too. It was only a month. Only four weeks. Then she would be back to care for them.

And what then? an inner voice asked. How could she provide for her children any better than she had when she landed them all in this spot? She had no answer to that. Trying to calm her panic, she shut her eyes and focused on the cool morning air washing over her as the wagon rolled out of town.

“She ain’t comin’ back,” Kurt whispered as he watched Mr. McCaid’s wagon round the corner.

“Shut up, Kurt. She’ll be back,” Luc answered, shoving him off the last step.

“Oh yeah? Did your mom come back?” Kurt retorted, turning on Luc.

“My ma’s dead, and you know that.”

“My ma left, and she never came back,” Mabel said. Colleen started crying. Tommy, the newest addition to the family, kept quiet.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Luc glared at Kurt.

“What’er we gonna do, Luc?” Joey asked.

“Audrey said she’d be back, and I believe her,” Luc asserted. “I’ve been with her just about longer than any of you, ’cept Dulcie. She ain’t never gone back on her word to us. Not ever. And we promised to do what we’re supposed to do. Right now we’re supposed to git over to Maddie’s for school, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”