Cassandra Austin (5 page)

Royal came to his feet and whimpered.

“It’s all right, boy,” she murmured, hoping to reassure herself as well.

Royal wasn’t to be calmed. He let out a sharp bark. Cally sat up in bed. “What is it, boy?”

Royal took up a position facing the door, barking insistently.

Cally swung out of the bed, making her way around Royal to grab the shotgun off the wall. She fumbled on the shelf for a tallow candle and her jar of matches, setting the shotgun on the table for a moment as she lit the candle. The soft glow filled the room when she heard a pounding on the door. She snatched up the shotgun. “The latch string’s out,” she called.

The door swung open, and a man filled her doorway. He stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind him. Royal, curse him, didn’t growl. It was Sheriff Haywood. He didn’t need to take off his hat and slicker and step into the candlelight for her to recognize him. He did it anyway.

And froze.

She had never seen anyone look so stunned. His eyes, staring first at her face, slowly trailed down her white nightgown to her bare feet and up again. He was obviously ignoring the shotgun. She considered lowering the gun now that she knew who the intruder was, but the look on his face was so strange she kept it where it was. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hoping to snap him out of his trance.

He didn’t answer. He was breathing hard, and she
wondered if he had run some distance to seek shelter at her door. “Did you lose your horse?” she asked.

He blinked as if he had just awakened. “I put her in your barn.”

Cally scowled. He shouldn’t be out of breath from that short a run. Well, maybe if her yard was full of mud. She found herself disappointed in him, anyway. “Why are you out on a night like this?”

“I came to see you.” He spoke in a strange whisper. She wondered if he had caught cold.

“You’ve seen me. You can go.”

He was staring at her again. She decided he might be feverish. After a moment he spoke in that same strange whisper. “I’m not going back out in that storm.”

She nodded. Now she understood. He was afraid of storms. The shotgun was getting heavy, but she didn’t dare lower it. The look in his eyes made her stomach tremble. If he was afraid of storms why hadn’t he stayed home? “You expect to stay here?” That thought made more than her stomach tremble.

He took a step toward her. Her house was so small that he would be able to snatch her shotgun out of her hands if he moved any closer. “I’ll shoot!” she warned. She backed away as far as she could.

His expression changed from the strange fevered gaze to a flash of anger. “If you shoot me,” he said, his voice back to the one she recognized, “I’ll bleed. At this range, that shotgun will tear me in two and splatter blood and bone—”

He stopped abruptly, or she thought he did. The buzzing in her ears grew steadily louder as a black haze closed off her vision. Everything cleared just as
quickly when she found herself leaning against Sheriff Haywood’s body, his arms wrapped around her. Her shotgun, of course, was gone. “That wasn’t fair,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” He drew away slightly and lifted her chin with his finger. “Are you all right?”

She could almost believe it was a sincere question. She found herself nodding. The odd fevered light was back in his eyes. It must be a catching kind of fever; she felt her own temperature rise.

“I’m all right. Just don’t talk about…you know.”

“Don’t threaten to shoot me,” he whispered, drawing closer as if he were afraid she couldn’t hear.

She knew she should pull away, but she wasn’t sure her legs were steady yet. She didn’t want to faint right here in front of him. She would let him hold her up a while longer. Meanwhile, she stared at him. How close did he think his lips had to be for her to hear?

Then his lips actually touched hers! It hadn’t occurred to her that he would want to kiss her! It was a strange sensation, his lips right against hers like that. They felt cool in spite of his fever and he smelled like the rain. She felt her stomach quiver while little shivers went down her legs and up her body.

He must have felt her legs shudder because now he held her much tighter. She clutched his coat, trying to still the trembling in her hands. Very slowly, he raised his head. She followed it up as far as her toes would stretch but eventually her lips were free.

He cleared his throat as he loosened his arms. “I can’t stay here.”

He released her rather suddenly, and she grabbed a chair to steady herself. Without looking at her again,
he threw on his slicker and hat and vanished into the storm.

She stared at the door for a full minute, wondering if she had just had another strange dream. She touched her lips. No. He had been here all right. And suffering from a fever. She decided to brew some herb tea to see if she could keep herself from catching it.

Andrew slogged through the mud to the barn. He raised his face to the rain and let it trickle down the back of his neck. He had to cool off. He was a fool. He had no business worrying about Cally in the first place. And he certainly had no business kissing her! He opened the barn door and stepped inside. “Too big a fool to even stay home out of the rain.”

He shed the slicker and hat, tossing them over a stall divider. In all his life, as far back as he could remember, he had never been such a fool. In fact, he prided himself on his good sense.

Good sense? What was he doing here?

He settled down in a corner, thoroughly miserable. Cally didn’t need to be rescued. She didn’t want him checking on her. Why did he fool himself into thinking otherwise? Why hadn’t he learned from his previous encounters with her?

Of course, none of those encounters had prepared him for tonight.

If he wasn’t such a fool, he would be warm and dry right now. He would be at home. He would be sleeping. In his own bed! He would still believe that the sketch he had drawn was somebody else, not Cally.

But he
had
been a fool. He had come and seen her, seen the startling red-blond hair tumbling around her shoulders, her slender body barely hidden beneath a simple white gown, her emerald eyes, wide with innocence. Lord, he was sure she had never even been kissed before!

Andrew groaned. If he thought the mare would cooperate, he would ride for home right now. Pneumonia couldn’t possibly be any worse than this.

The old dog joined him in the corner, evidently wanting to quiet his fears. “How could I have known?” he asked. The dog lay down with her head across Andrew’s leg. “There’s no way I could have guessed she looked like that. She surprised me into kissing her.” Andrew took a deep breath, resting his hand on the dog’s back. “She’ll never trust me now.”

The tea Cally drank before returning to bed hadn’t helped. If anything, it had made it worse. Cally felt the fever burn her body all night. Smaller versions of the strange trembling she had felt in her stomach when he kissed her, came back again and again. She wondered how serious the fever might be. If the sheriff died, she would have to try to explain hersymptoms to the doctor.

She wished she still had Pa to talk to, although somehow she doubted he would have been much help with this. It might have been nice to at least share her worry with someone. She wasn’t lonely for company, of course. Haywood was the one who thought she couldn’t be alone.

And Haywood was the reason Pa was dead, she reminded herself. She shouldn’t feel guilty about
sending him out into the storm, sick as he was. She tried to work up her fury at the sheriff, but this strange fever that possessed her simply let it wash away. For some reason, she felt too good to be angry. With that rather confusing thought she drifted off to sleep.

And dreamed. Her cheek rested against a starched white shirt. Strong arms held her. Warm masculine lips hovered above hers—and never quite touched her. When she woke up, the fever was worse.

She expected to be dizzy or sick to her stomach when she got up, and was relieved to find she merely felt- hungry. And perhaps a little giddy. She let Royal out, surveyed the muddy yard and went about her morning chores.

Andrew spent a restless night. The storm seemed to rage for hours. The barn was damp and drafty. The corner where he huddled was hard and bug-infested. Whenever he drifted off to sleep, one of the animals chose that moment to snort or stomp. When he slept at all, he dreamed of Cally. Those dreams caused as much discomfort as all the other conditions put together. And when he happened to moan in his sleep, the old dog whimpered and nuzzled to comfort him.

He couldn’t believe he had given up a chance to sleep in his own bed because of a misguided concern for Cally DuBois. He fell into an exhausted sleep about an hour before dawn.

The sound of the rickety door opening startled him awake. He sat up suddenly, bumping his head on the wall behind him. He groaned and the dog whimpered. At the same moment he registered a gasp from the figure in the doorway. He had clearly startled Cally
as much as she had him. Last night he had forgotten to mention that he would be staying in her barn.

She watched him suspiciously as he came to his feet. He tried to straighten his coat and adjust his shirtsleeves. He ran a hand over his stubbled chin, imagining he looked a sight. But even that didn’t quite explain the curious way she peered at him, leaning forward and moving so the light fell on him as if she were looking for something specific.

He wanted to think she was worried about his well-being, but knew better. Lord, but it disconcerted him to look at her now, decked out in those baggy clothes, knowing how she looked without…

He swallowed hard. “Morning, Miss DuBois,” he managed.

The dog at her feet and the dog at his looked them both over, then trotted off toward the house. Cally spared a glance toward them and Andrew smiled. She still smarted at Royal’s defection. Her watchdog had turned into a friendly pup where he was concerned. Now if she could just follow the dog’s example.

“I have to milk the cow,” she said abruptly. She still stood in the doorway, perhaps afraid to come inside. Poor girl. He had truly frightened her last night.

“I’ll be on my way, then.” Somehow, it was harder to pull his gaze from her than it should have been. He couldn’t really see her anyway, silhouetted as she was in the doorway, but he could imagine the red hair and the emerald eyes and the soft curves. He cleared his throat, taking a tentative step toward the mare.

“You feeling all right this morning? Any fever…?”
Her voice trailed off as if she wasn’t sure what she was asking.

“I’m fine,” he answered. “You?”

“Fine,” she said quickly. “I have to milk the cow.”

He nodded and turned away, only to turn back once again. “Cally,” he started before he caught himself. “Miss DuBois, I don’t think you should stay here alone.” He raised his hand as she stiffened. “Please hear me out. I only have your best interests in mind. I think you should come into town.”

Noting the stubborn lift of her chin, he added quickly, “At least meet the Gwynn sisters. Would you do that for me? If you don’t like them, I can ask around some more. Mr. Lafferty, perhaps?”

He took a step toward her, and she backed away. It hurt him to know she was scared of him. It ought to please him. Surely it would be easier to get her to do as he suggested if she was frightened of him. Wouldn’t it?

“Sure,” she said.

That was just the answer he wanted. Why didn’t it please him? What difference did it make
why
she agreed as long as she agreed? Right? “Next time you’re in town then? You can come by my office, and I’ll take you to meet them.”

“Fine.” She edged toward the milk cow, her back practically pressed against the barn wall, trying to stay as far away from him as possible. “I have to—”

“Milk the cow.” He nodded. “I know.” The nicest thing he could do for her now would be to get out of her way. She was evidently safe enough out here for now. He had to think of the long run and that meant
giving her time to make up her own mind. A few more days of trying to do everything for herself were bound to have the desired effect.

He saddled the mare as quickly as he could, trying not to listen to her coaxing voice as she talked to the cow. He tried not to believe that he was abandoning a child to look after herself. After all, he was beginning to respect her self-sufficiency and courage.

But mostly he tried not to think about the surprising young woman he had discovered last night. That young woman didn’t belong out here. She didn’t belong in those baggy clothes. She belonged—good heavens, he couldn’t believe what he was thinking!

C
ally heard Andrew leave. She was relieved that he hadn’t said goodbye. It was better for him to just go. That way she didn’t have to speak to him again, and she wasn’t sure of her voice.

This crazy fever she suffered from was definitely tied up with that man. The sight of him, rumpled and sleepy, brought it on. His voice, as smooth as warm honey, made it worse. By staying as far away from him as she could, she had kept it under control.

As she milked Belle, she tried to put all the pieces together, the light in his eyes when he saw her last night, the touch, the heat, the quivers. It was kind of like when a bitch or a cow was in season, she decided. Haywood had just shown up at the wrong time. It had never happened to her before, because nobody but Pa had ever been around. All she had to do was stay away from Haywood until it passed.

And make certain he never touched her.

Andrew was doubting the wisdom of the idea before he stepped across Mr. Lafferty’s threshold. Yesterday,
it had seemed like a perfect place for the little tomboy to work. His whole picture of the girl had changed since then, or was at least confused. The idea was still worth a try, he decided.

The store was dimly lit and apparently empty. Andrew was about to turn to go when a figure left the dim shadows at the back of the building and came toward him slowly.

“Who’s there?” Mr. Lafferty called.

“Sheriff Haywood.”

“Well, ‘tis nice to hear yer voice, lad. You be needin’ more oats for that fine mare of yers?”

Andrew went to meet him and clasped his hand. “I came about something else altogether. I believe you know Cally DuBois.”

“Bonnie wee lass, that one. Sweet thing.” Lafferty nodded thoughtfully. That didn’t exactly fit Andrew’s assessment of the girl, but he let it pass. “Fine cook, too. Brings me muffins and the like, says they broke comin’ from the pan, but she doesn’t fool this old man.”

Andrew smiled. A generous Cally? “She’s all alone now, you know. I’ve been trying to find her a job in town. I worry about her on that farm alone.”

“Do ye, now?” The old man’s weak eyes narrowed.

Andrew shifted uncomfortably. “Mr. Lafferty, I’m here to see if you would consider hiring the girl to help out here.”

Lafferty shook his head. “A feed store’s no place for a gentle lass like that one, Sheriff. Around all the dust and dirt, rough men comin’ in and the like. It wouldn’t do, sir. Not for one like Cally.”

“She’s a little rough herself, sometimes,” Andrew argued. “I think she’d like it better than the other prospect I’ve gotten.”

“No, Sheriff. The girl deserves somethin’ grand. I’d think on it, I suppose, if I be needin’ the help. Good luck with her, though. I’m sure you’ll find just the thing for Cally.”

Andrew wanted to argue further, but Lafferty had already turned and started toward the back of the shadowy store. With a sigh, he stepped into the sunlight. The Gwynns were still his best hope.

“When was the last time you talked to her, Sheriff?”

Both Gwynn sisters had come to his office this time. Noella looked coldly down her long, thin nose as she spoke, never mind that Andrew was a good eight inches taller than she. Easter wrung her chubby hands in front of her wide frame, and looked distraught.

“Two or three days,” Andrew said, blinking away the sudden picture of Cally in the white gown. The vision came to him often enough, especially this time of the evening when the girl used to visit her father. He didn’t need anyone to remind him of his last visit to the farm. “She promised to meet you next time she was in town.”

“When will that be?” asked Noella.

“We can’t hold this position forever, you know,” Easter added.

“I’m afraid I can’t make any promises. She’s been…well, she’s still grieving. We have to give her time to realize what’s best.”

“She’s being stubborn,” stated Noella, nodding down at her sister.

“As stubborn as that mule she rides,” agreed Easter.

Andrew hadn’t noticed that Cally’s mule was particularly stubborn, but otherwise he had to agree. “She is somewhat—independent.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll snap that out of her soon enough,” declared Easter.

Andrew cringed. The more he listened to the sisters, the less he liked them. He wished he had some other choice. No one else needed a scruffy girl with a stubborn streak, even if she could cook and clean and care for animals—even if she had adorably childish freckles, startling red-blond hair, expressive emerald eyes and full, soft lips. He shook his head to clear it.

Noella was talking again. “We’ve almost decided to go out to that farm and bring the girl in ourselves.”

Andrew pictured the shotgun leveled on the two ladies. “I’m not sure that would be wise.”

The outer door opened, and Andrew excused himself, moving to greet a young boy as he entered. With his back to the ladies, he allowed a grin to surface. It certainly wouldn’t be wise, but it might be fun.

“Telegram for you, sir,” the boy said, handing a folded sheet to the sheriff and waiting for the coin he knew he could expect.

“Thanks, Taylor,” Andrew said, resisting the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair. At the advanced age of eleven, that would be insulting.

“You want I should wait for an answer or anything?” Taylor asked hopefully.

“Shouldn’t you be home for supper?” Andrew grinned as the boy scuffed one toe on the floor before turning to leave.

When Taylor had left the office, Andrew unfolded the sheet and scanned it quickly. Instantly forgetting his guests, he read it through more carefully. It was from his old boss, Federal Marshal Kenneth Yates. Wade Terris and Parker Stedwell had escaped from the penitentiary in Leavenworth. He gazed at the pictures on the wall. Terris, with his wide scarred face and squinting eyes, and Stedwell, almost dapper in his derby hat, stared back at him. The safecracker and the forger. Were they partners now?

Andrew had taken part in the apprehension of both, and remembered their vows of revenge. Terris always struck him as the more dangerous of the two, but Stedwell was smarter. An extremely clever and coolnerved thief.

“Ahem!”

Andrew swung around to face the ladies. “Sorry. Bad news.” They didn’t seem impressed. He tossed the telegram on his desk and reached for his coat. “Look. I’m going to be gone for a few days. I’ll bring Miss DuBois in tonight.”

The Gwynn sisters nodded to each other, evidently certain that their persistence had won the day. They didn’t seem to take Andrew’s hint to hurry as he held the door open but took their time departing his office.

Andrew’s long strides took him home quickly. He would ride east, stopping in sheriffs’ offices along the way for any news. With some luck, he could join up with the posse somewhere between Salina and Leavenworth.

Of course there was no guarantee the convicts had headed this way. He could locate the posse from the marshal’s office in Topeka if he hadn’t met them sooner. He couldn’t imagine that the convicts would travel far. More likely they would hole up someplace and make plans, if they hadn’t already made them.

As Andrew hitched up his wagon, he considered where they might go. Abilene would be a good place to get lost. But so would a lot of other places. Maybe it was prideful of him to think that they would be after him. There were several other lawmen who played a part in their captures; somehow he had just gotten a little more credit. When the law caught up with them the second time, he wanted to be part of it again. He could already feel the thrill of the chase.

But first, he had to take care of Cally. He couldn’t leave her out there alone when he left. She had to be in town where she was safe, in the Gwynns’ care where he wouldn’t worry about her. This time, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Andrew stopped the wagon outside Cally’s sod house just as she stepped through her door, shotgun first. He hopped off the seat and strolled toward her, doffing his hat. “Evening, Miss DuBois,” he said, as if the gun were a friendly greeting. “You recovered from the storm?”

She narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t speak.

He stopped several paces away from her. With Cally he was never sure what was the best tack. Probably because nothing he had tried so far had worked. He decided to try plain and simple. “I’ve come to take you to town.”

“I don’t wanna go.” He thought her voice sounded a little shaky and wondered if her resistance might be weakening after all. At least she had set the shotgun aside.

He tried his gentlest voice, the one he used on skittish horses. “I have to leave town for a few days. I can’t leave you out here alone while I’m gone.”

“I’m alone out here when you ain’t gone.” She had raised her head a little to talk to him. The wind tugged at her hat.

“True, but I’ve been within fairly easy reach if you needed me.”

“How often have I needed you?”

Andrew opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t think of a good response.

She went on, straightening to look him in the eye. “I got my shotgun. Royal here doesn’t let anyone near me.”

Andrew grinned. “Except me.”

She faltered a little, but before Andrew could press his advantage she spoke again, her voice tinged with irritation. “You just don’t have call to worry about me.”

Andrew shook his head. “But I do. I can’t ride away, knowing you’re out here alone. I wouldn’t be able to do my job. I need to know you’re safe.” In frustration he added, “I’ll arrest you if I have to.”

He saw her startled expression and hated to think he was convincing her by scaring her. It made him feel cruel.

He was considering how to soften his words when the wind finally tugged the floppy hat clear off her head. A cloud of bright hair tumbled over her shoulders.
Caught by the sun, it was even more stunning than it had been the first time he saw it.

She faced the wind for a second to make her hair blow behind her head instead of across her face. It made a stunning picture. Her face in the sunlight, green eyes and freckles. She was simply adorable.

Suddenly she caught her breath. She stepped backward before Andrew realized he had approached her. She grabbed up the shotgun but instead of raising it to her shoulder, she held it toward him with both hands, offering it to him or warding him off, he couldn’t tell.

“I…I’ll come,” she stammered. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just promise not to kiss me again.”

Andrew bit back a curse. His face had obviously given his thoughts away. It galled him to think she would rather be arrested than kissed by him. He took the shotgun, uncertain what he ought to say, deciding that he was better off saying nothing until his temper was under control. He set the shotgun aside.

“What should I take?” she asked softly.

Her resignation made him feel as if he had just been kicked in the stomach. “Whatever you need for a few days in town.” She went inside the little house, and Andrew followed. “When I get back, I’ll help you move anything else you want.” She looked at him sharply, and he added, “If you decide to stay with the Gwynns.”

She turned her back and stuffed a few things in a worn flour sack. In a moment she appeared ready to leave. Andrew backed out the door, certain she wouldn’t walk around him. He reached out for the sack, and she gave it to him reluctantly. As he set it
in the back of the wagon, she retrieved her hat and stuffed her hair under it again. He moved to help her into the wagon, but she climbed aboard herself.

“What about my animals?” she asked.

“We’ll stop at Ned’s on our way to town. One of his boys will be glad to come over and take care of them.” He started the wagon moving as he spoke. He had a feeling she might still change her mind.

“Ned? Ned’s been trying to buy this land out from under us for years. He’s got all of it already but just what’s around the house.”

“He can’t take the farm just by doing your chores,” Andrew said. Even as he tried to reassure her he filed the information away for the future. He glanced at the young woman beside him to see if he had effectively hidden his thoughts.

She wasn’t looking at him. Her lips were pursed in a pretty pout. He looked away quickly.

After a moment she spoke softly. “Nobody does someone else’s chores for free. I can’t pay Ned’s boy nothing.” The admission was forced between clenched teeth.

Andrew felt like the lowest form of life for making her suffer. “I’ll take care of it, Cally.” He meant to reassure her, not hurt her pride. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. No, if he was honest, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

“Royal’s coming with me.”

Andrew hauled on the reins. Sure enough, the big dog trotted along beside the wagon. “I’m sorry, Cally. The Gwynns won’t allow pets.”

Cally raised huge eyes to him. “Royal can’t stay here by himself. He needs people.”

“Cally.”

“He needs someone to watch over.”

Andrew turned the wagon back toward the farm. “He can watch over the farm and your other animals.”

“That’s Queen’s job,” she said matter-of-factly.

Andrew stopped the wagon again. He took a deep breath. “What do you suggest?” She started to rise, and he grabbed her arm. “Besides going back.” Before he finished the brief sentence, she had shrunk as far from him as the wagon seat would allow. What did she imagine he would do to her? Probably just what he had been imagining.

Cally whispered, “You could take him with you.”

That was quite an offer considering how devoted she and the dog were. Andrew knew it was a surprising admission of trust. He was flattered. And it wasn’t totally unheard of, traveling with a dog. For Cally, he actually considered it for a moment. But he didn’t want a dog along, especially one he didn’t really know. What if something happened to Royal? Cally would never forgive him. He steeled himself for her reaction, and said, “We’ll shut him in the barn.”

The emerald eyes filled with anger, and Andrew turned away. What hobby should he take up next, he wondered, drowning kittens? He pulled the wagon up close to the barn, and had no trouble coaxing the dog inside and closing the door.

He was half-afraid Cally would have retrieved her shotgun and barricaded herself in the soddy while he was at it. But she sat, stiff and silent on the wagon seat. There was a certain determination in the set of
her jaw that made him uneasy. They pulled out of the yard followed by Royal’s persistent barks.