The Invitation (29 page)

“I am immune to insults from men, so you might as well not try. I merely want to hire you for a job and that's all. After two weeks you may walk out of my life and never see me again.”

“And what you want me to do is marry you?”

“Not actually marry me, just pretend to be my husband for the two weeks that my sister will be here in Texas visiting me.”

“I'm curious, miss, why me? Don't you think that an aging gunslinger is the worst choice for a husband?” No matter that she'd said nice things to him, that one remark about his age got under his skin. And there was the thing about his eyesight. He could see as well today as when he was eighteen. Well, maybe newspaper print was smaller than it used to be, but—He made himself stop thinking. If she made another one of her belittling comments, he was going to strangle her.

“It's because of who you are that I want you. I want to…to impress my sister.” In the first real emotion she'd shown yet, she threw up her hands in exasperation. “Who can understand love? I certainly don't. It seems to me that if you're going to marry a man, you should choose a man who would be a good provider, reliable, a caring father. But women don't seem to want men like that. Women want men who are dangerous, men who do really childish, stupid things like shoot people faster than they themselves can be shot. In short, Mr. Hunter, women want men like you.”

Cole gave up trying to remember to smoke. He was so fascinated by her that a keg of dynamite couldn't have moved him. “I would impress your sister?” he asked softly.

“Oh, yes. You're just the type who would impress Rowena. You're rather like her Jonathan, except that he has used his…I'm not sure you would call it talent, but he's used his ability to frighten people and terrify them to make enormous amounts of money.”

“Sounds like a real devil.”

“He is. But that's what women seem to like. I don't mean that Jonathan is a bad person. I think he's generally considered a very good businessman. And he's compassionate in his way, just as you are, but he thinks that any means is justified, as long as everything goes his way in the end.”

“And I am like that?” He could have bitten his tongue for asking, but he couldn't help himself.

“Yes. It really wasn't your business to settle those range wars, and I am amazed at the vanity it took on your part to think that you
could
settle them.”

“But I did settle them,” he couldn't help pointing out.

“Yes, there is that. You see, Jonathan goes about making money just the way you go about interfering in people's lives and killing them if they get in your way.”

Cole felt as though he should apologize for having been born. “I am sorry to have displeased you, sorry that women like your sister think I'm worth something,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, that's all right,” she said, taking his words seriously. “We all have our vanities. I am extremely vain in what I'm doing now. You see, my sister has only good intentions toward me, but she plans to come to Texas to find me a husband. She says that I am becoming a dried-up, sour…” She waved her hand in dismissal. “It doesn't matter what Rowena says. She says whatever comes to her mind.”

“Unlike you, who are the very essence of tact and graciousness.”

She gave him a hard look to see if he was joking, but she could see no humor in his eyes. “Rowena has decided to manage my life, and she will do so if I don't do something beforehand.”

“I'm having difficulty understanding something. You say that you want a husband and kids, and obviously, with your charms, you're not going to find a man by yourself, so why don't you allow your sister to find one for you?”

“Because she will sweet-talk some man like you into marrying me.”

Cole just sat there and blinked at her. It was difficult to think of oneself as the worst thing that could happen to a woman. There had been a few women who thought he was the
best
thing that could happen to them.

She let out a sigh. “I see that I'm not explaining myself thoroughly.”

“It's probably my fault,” Cole said sweetly. “All that gunpowder going off near my head has made me rather stupid over all the many, many years of my life. Please do explain everything to me.”

“I do want a husband, and I plan to get one…eventually. But the man I want is not the sort that Rowena would want for me. I want a nice, plain man. I don't want a man like her Jonathan or like you. I don't want a man who is so handsome that I have to worry every night that he's out with other women.”

Cole thought there was a compliment in there, but he wasn't sure where it was.

“I want a man I can depend on, someone who'll be there when I go to sleep and when I wake up. I want a man who will rock the baby when it's teething. I want a man who will nurse me when I'm ill. In other words I want a man who is grown up, an adult, a man who is man enough to know that there are ways of settling arguments that don't involve shooting someone.”

Cole found himself squirming in his seat. He was developing a genuine dislike for this woman. “So why don't you get one of those sodbusters if that's what you want?” He couldn't believe it but his voice sounded petulant and maybe even jealous.

“Can you imagine what my sister's reaction would be if she came to visit and found me married to some short, bald man who knew more about books than guns? Rowena would feel even sorrier for me than she does already.”

Suddenly she stood up, her fists clenched. “Mr. Hunter, you can't imagine what it was like growing up with a sister like Rowena. All my life I've been compared to her. If she had to be beautiful, I don't think it's fair that she's also talented. Rowena can do
anything.
She rides as though she's part of the horse. She can cook; she can dance; she speaks four languages. Rowena is absolutely divine. She used to stand up to our father with great defiance and he loved her all the more for it. When I tried to stand up to him he sent me to my room without supper.”

She took a deep breath as if to calm herself. “So now my parents are dead, I live alone in an enormous, dreary old house, and my splendid sister is coming to Texas to find some man for me to marry. She says she's doing this out of love for me, but it's really out of pity. She feels sorry for me and thinks that I could never get a husband on my own, but she believes that she has enough charm to persuade a man to marry me.”

She looked at him. “It's hardly been a year since my father died, and while he was alive I never had a chance to look for a husband. He said he'd lost one daughter to marriage and he was going to make damned sure he didn't lose another. I have every confidence that now that I am free I can get a husband, but not by next week when Rowena arrives. At least not a good husband. Those men take time to find and need careful consideration. Marriage is a very serious undertaking. And besides, even if I did greet Rowena with the type of man I want on my arm, she'd still feel sorry for me because I didn't have some swaggering, squint-eyed, hard-jawed, ruthless killer like her husband.”

Cole couldn't help running his hand over his jaw. Was it hard? Was he ruthless? Did he swagger? Damn, but the woman was making him crazy. If he really were a ruthless killer, she'd be the first on his list to get rid of.

“So you want me to pretend to be married to you for two weeks in an effort to impress your beautiful sister?”

“Yes, exactly. I will pay you five thousand dollars for the two weeks, and during that time, of course, you will live in a comfortable house and be well fed.”

She talked as though he usually lived in a cave and ate dirt and worms for dinner. Of course this boardinghouse could use a good cleaning and maybe the food did leave a lot to be desired. But one time in Saint Louis he'd lived in a splendid hotel and eaten…Well, that had been after a lucrative job, and he'd stayed there until the money ran out. Maybe her bald farmer would have done something sensible with the money.

“Well?” she asked, frowning impatiently.

“Miss Latham, I think that if I had to spend two weeks near you, I'd be hanged for murder—yours.”

Even though he was watching her intently, she didn't betray any emotion—if she had any. “I guess that's settled, then. I wish you the best in your endeavors in the future, and I hope that you can continue to dodge bullets for many years. Good day, sir.”

With that she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Cole walked to the cabinet against the wall and withdrew a bottle of whiskey and downed a healthy slug. What would little Miss Prim and Proper say to his drinking at this time of the morning? Probably just look down her boring little nose at him.

At the window, he held the curtain aside and watched her walk across the street. Not one man turned to watch her walk or even looked at her. She was the most undesirable woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Yet something about her got under his skin.

“Damn!” he said out loud. In a matter of minutes she had made him feel that his entire life was a failure. Him! Coleman Hunter, a man known throughout the Southwest as a man to be reckoned with, a man who could have his pick of any woman in the country.

He moved away from the window, and as he did so, he happened to see himself in the mirror over the bureau. Turning sideways, he stood a little straighter and sucked in his stomach. There wasn't any paunch. His stomach was as flat as the day he had his first gunfight. Angrily he grabbed his hat and left the room.

Two hours later he was sitting on the front porch of the sheriff's office whittling a stick into nothing. He was beginning to think the woman was a jinx. Ten minutes after he'd left his boardinghouse, a boy had come running to him with a telegram. His next job, for some rancher in Plano, had been canceled. The man had wanted someone to find and kill a bunch of rustlers, but he had telegraphed that a younger, less expensive man had already done the job for him.

This news had made Cole so angry he'd gone to Nina and told her he wanted her, and
now.
Nina had said that he had to wait his turn and he hadn't paid her for the last time. Since when had he had to pay for a woman? Women were dying to go to bed with him.

“Nina,” he said, hating himself for doing it, “do you think I'm…well, you know…attractive?”

That had made her laugh. “What's wrong with you, Cole, honey? You fallin' for some girl that thinks you're old enough to be her father?”

That was probably the
only
insult Miss Latham had not given him, but now Nina had. First a dried-up old maid and now a prostitute. He thought he'd better get out of Abilene fast, before his hair turned gray and his teeth fell out.

“What's eatin' you?” asked the sheriff, who was now sitting next to him on the porch.

“Nothing's wrong with me,” Cole snapped. “What makes you think anything is wrong with me?”

“I've rarely seen you awake this early, and when you do get up in the daylight it's usually to meet somebody in a shootout. How come you ain't over at the saloon like you usually are?”

“Is that what you think of me? Is that what you think I do with my life, shoot people and drink and gamble? If you think I'm such a wastrel, why haven't you arrested me? For that matter, if I'm such a killer, why haven't you hanged me?”

The sheriff looked at Cole in amusement. They had known each other for years, had ridden together many times, until the sheriff decided that he'd had enough of bedrolls and beans. He'd married a plump widow and produced two little boys who were everything to him. “Nina turn you down?”

“No, Nina didn't turn me down,” Cole lied. “What is wrong with the people in the town that a man can't do something a little different now and then?”

“Somebody got to you today. Who was it? Any of Dalton's boys around that I don't know about?”

Cole didn't answer him because at that moment boring little Miss Latham stepped out of the hotel and started walking down the street toward the bank.

The sheriff was watching his longtime friend, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, when Cole's eyes suddenly changed. It was the look he usually reserved for cardsharps who might have an ace up their sleeves and for notorious gunmen who might draw at any second so they could say they'd killed Cole Hunter. The sheriff, to his disbelief, saw that Cole had fastened his gaze on a small, plain woman in a modest brown dress. Cole usually went for flashy women in red satin and black lace. He said he fought men for a living, so he didn't want to fight women; he wanted them to be easy.

“Who is she?” Cole asked belligerently, pointing his knife blade toward her.

Abilene was a good-sized town, but the sheriff prided himself on knowing who came and went. “Money.” He bit off a chew of tobacco. “Her father was from the East, came out here and bought a few hundred acres of very pretty land up north, built the biggest house ever seen by most people, then sat down and waited. Most people thought he was crazy. Four years later the railroad came through and he sold them land for five times what he'd paid for it. He built a town, called it Latham after himself, then rented the buildings to people who wanted to work. A hard man. They say he throws out tenants if they're twenty-four hours late with the rent.”