Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (56 page)

Jenna didn’t relax at his assurance. After a brief pause, her shaking grew worse.

Dougherty drew up alongside. “Evening McKinnely.”

“Evening.”

Jenna all but buried herself in his back. Dougherty jerked his chin in Jenna’s direction. “That one of the Emporium’s girls?”

“The Emporium burned down a year ago.”

“For sure someone took it over.”

They had but he wasn’t going to get into that discussion with his wife behind him.

“You heading back to your sister’s?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d visit a bit.”

Which probably meant he’d run out of money. Clint eyed him. The man seemed to have aged ten years in the year and a half he’d been gone, his blond good looks dissipating under the influence of too much alcohol and too little exercise.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate the help.”

Not that Clint thought Mark would be much help. The man was shiftless to the bone, but Eloise seemed to love having him around. There was no accounting for taste.

Mark moved his horse closer. Danny growled. Behind him Jenna stiffened. The shaking stopped, and beneath his arm, the muzzle of the revolver lifted and pointed. For a woman who said she couldn’t shoot at someone, Jenna was taking damned careful aim. Clint tipped his hat down over his eyes, absorbing the information.

“That’s close enough.”

Mark pulled his horse up. “You’re not being very neighborly.”

“Can’t help it. My dog doesn’t like you.”

“And you let your dog do your thinking?”

Clint shrugged. “He hasn’t failed me yet.”

Mark’s bark of laughter was forced.

“They said you’d turned strange after you quit marshaling. Soft even.”

He palmed his coat away from his belt. Clint wasn’t impressed with the move or the stomach that overhung the other man’s buckle.

He smiled. “They say a lot of things.”

He clamped his elbow down on the muzzle of the revolver Jenna was trying to shove forward.

“You going to introduce me to your companion?” Mark asked.

Clint kept his answer short and to the point. “No.”

Jenna relaxed infinitesimally.

Mark’s thin mouth disappeared under the lash of the slight. “You didn’t use to be so unsociable.”

“Your memory might be failing. I’ve always been damned unsociable.”

“Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth when you were courting my sister.”

“Walking her home when she worked too late at the store isn’t courting.”

“It damned well better be, seeing as how you were out alone with her after dark.”

“If you were that worried you could have walked her home yourself.”

“I was busy.”

Busy only if you counted gambling and whoring. Clint shrugged.

“Seeing as she’s married, I’d say it’s all water under the bridge.”

Mark frowned, but he didn’t have any argument for the truth.

“I suppose so.” The smile he put on his face was forced.

“Mind if I ride in with you?”

“Yes.”

Mark’s smile turned lecherous.

“Planning on a little horse sport?”

He tried to peer around Clint’s shoulder. Clint kneed Ornery to keep Jenna hidden, while observing, “You always were an ill-mannered son of a bitch.”

“And you always were a selfish bastard, keeping all the good whores to yourself.”

Clint wanted to bury his fist in the other man’s smirk. As if sensing his mood, Danny snarled and lunged at the chestnut’s hooves.

“Goddamn it!” Mark cursed, trying to rein in the terrified horse. “Call off your dog, or I’ll shoot him.”

Clint raised the muzzle of his rifle. “I wouldn’t.”

Behind him, Jenna tensed. She was afraid of the son of a bitch. He didn’t know why, but he would, and then, if necessary, he’d gut him like the pig he was.

“However, if you move it along, Danny might see fit to leave you be.”

Mark hauled back on the reins, causing the bit to cut into the horse’s mouth. The chestnut reared and spun. Clint wasn’t surprised when the horse took off under a gouge of spurs. Dougherty had always been a bully.

When Mark was a blur in the distance, Jenna relaxed, slumping against his spine. Clint removed the revolver from her hand. He eased the hammer back into place.

“For a woman who couldn’t shoot, you sure were ready to plug Mark.”

“I don’t like him.”

“So I gathered.”

“You can’t trust him.”

“I never have, but I’m more interested in why he terrifies you.”

“He doesn’t terrify me.”

“Worries you, then.”

“He’s a bully.”

“Has he ever bullied you?”

There was a little too much lag before her “no” to be believable.

“C’mon back up here, Sunshine.”

He felt the shake of her head rather than saw it.

“Are you telling me no?”

Her nod was emphatic.

“It’s only ten minutes to the house, Sunshine.”

“I know.”

He pried her fingers loose from the folds of his jacket.

“You’re only adding to that beating you’ve got coming.”

Her hand jerked in his. He kissed her fingers before bringing them back to his waist.

“I can’t talk about it.”

“You will.”

“Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because you promised me something better.”

He smiled, tickling her palm with his tongue, enjoying the press of her breasts on his back as she took a steadying breath.

“So I did.”

He waited until she rested in relief against him, before adding, “But I’m not going to forget the other.”

He hadn’t earned his reputation by giving up.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jenna ladled stew into the last bowl. The tension in the small kitchen was thick enough to cut with a knife. When she turned, Red was glaring at Clint, who was bouncing Bri on his knee and ignoring the boy in that complete way that added sparks to Red’s resentment. Her stomach churned. She had to do something about this.

She held out the bowl. “Red, could you please take this.”

The boy sat and stared at his utensils as if he hadn’t heard. Clint frowned. She quickly brought it to the table and set it in front of him.

Red centered it with a shove. Broth sloshed over the side. Jenna wiped up the spill with the towel, but Red didn’t even glance her way.

Jenna angled her body so that she blocked Clint’s view.

“I’m sorry, Red.”

She took his grunt as a response.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Clint pointed out from behind her. The tightness in his tone indicated that he wasn’t pleased with either of them.

Yes she did. “I had no right to put you in the middle like that.”

“You didn’t put him anywhere. The boy made his own choices.”

And he’d made them to protect her. Jenna understood that even if Clint couldn’t. She kept talking to Red as if Clint wasn’t behind her putting in his two cents.

“In the future, I don’t want you to ever go against your father. Even to protect me.” She touched Red’s shoulder. He glared at her and jumped up, knocking over his chair. She flinched from the disgust in his eyes before he slammed out the door. Bri started to cry. Clint hushed her with soft talk and a knuckle to chew on.

“He hates me.”

Clint sighed. “He doesn’t hate you, Sunshine. He’s just mad because he can’t go over and work toward that horse he wants.”

“You were too hard on him.”

“He risked your life.”

“He thought he was protecting me.”

“He thought wrong.”

“Couldn’t you just–”

“No.” He patted Bri’s back with the softest of touches, but his eyes were hard as they met hers. “He can’t come between us, Jenna, and he can’t endanger you, Bri, or himself by being a wild card.”

“But he’s new here, Clint.”

“The sooner he learns, the sooner he’ll settle.”

Jenna touched Red’s bowl. He was so thin.

“His supper is getting cold.”

“He’ll come in when he’s hungry.”

Jenna looked out the window. All she could see was the reflection of the oil lamp. Red didn’t even have his coat.

“He’s too proud.”

“Doesn’t the Bible say something about pride going before the fall?”

“Pride is all he has.”

Clint sighed. “Would it make you feel better if I went and talked to him?”

“Yes.” She had great faith that Clint’s heart would soften if he spent time with the boy.

“Take Bri then.” Jenna eased Bri off his shoulder. As always, it didn’t matter how careful she was, Clint was Bri’s favorite person in the whole world and she never left him willingly. Clint kissed her lips as Bri wailed in her ear. “The boy isn’t going to thank me for this.”

She found her voice. “But I will.”

He nodded and shrugged into his coat, grabbing Red’s off the adjoining hook.

“I’m counting on it.”

* * * * *

Red hadn’t gone far. He was sitting on the far corner of the porch. In the light spilling out from the window, Clint could see him rubbing his arms. Clint made his next step heavy, giving the boy warning. Red immediately sat up straight and dropped his hands.

“Your mother’s worried about you.”

He handed the boy his coat.

“She’s not my mother,” he growled, shrugging into the heavy wool.

Clint pulled his makings out of his pocket.

“Do me a favor son, and don’t ever say that to her directly. Even if you feel it.”

“Or you’ll beat me?”

He sprinkled tobacco onto the paper. “Worse son, she’ll cry.”