To Tame a Renegade (2 page)

“No. Tell me.”

Chad laughed. “You sure are inquisitive. It means I hunt bad men for money.”

“What do you do with them when you catch them?”

“Take them to jail.”

By the time Abner sorted through Chad’s explanation, they had crossed the tracks into shantytown.

“Which house is yours?” Chad asked. All the shacks looked alike to him. All were in desperate need of fresh paint and overdue repair.

“Put me down here and I’ll walk the rest of the way,” Abner said. “If I sneak into the house and clean up before Mama sees me, maybe she won’t find out what happened. She worries about me.”

“I’ll bet,” Chad said with a hint of sarcasm. The boy’s mother was probably sleeping after a hard night of entertaining men, letting her child fend for himself. He could feel anger building up inside him on Abner’s behalf. From what he knew of women, they were greedy, wanton creatures and he wanted nothing to do with them. His own father hadn’t been worm a damn after his mother ran off.

“Point out your house, son. I think I’ll have a word with your mother about taking better care of you.”

Suddenly a woman came flying out of one of the shanties, calling Abner’s name.

“Mama!” Abner tried to slide from Flint’s back but Chad held him securely in the saddle.

Seeing her son restrained by a stranger brought the woman rushing toward Chad like a virago, ready to snatch her son from the devil on horseback. Her black hair swirled behind her like a dark cloud and her face was like a thundercloud.

“Put my son down, you—you child molester! Look at him! What have you done to him?” She reached for Abner, tearing him from Chad’s grasp and hugging him to her breast.

“Aw, Mama, I’m all right,” Abner said, shying away from his mother’s overprotective arms. “Put me down.”

Sarah Temple reluctantly set Abner down on the ground, but she clutched his hand tightly, refusing to let him run off as she glared up at Chad.

“I’m Sarah Temple, Abner’s mother. Who are you? What are you doing with my son?”

Chad shoved his hat to the back of his head and returned Sarah’s glare. He couldn’t recall seeing eyes that particular shade of violet before. Like huge pansies. Sarah Temple was a shapely little thing with the face of an angel. Why would a beautiful woman like that choose such a degrading occupation?

“The name’s Chad Delaney. I pulled Abner out from beneath a pile of older boys. I’m afraid they were getting the best of him.” His face hardened. “You should take better care of him.”

Red dots of rage exploded behind Sarah’s eyes. “How dare you criticize me!” She eyed his guns, her disdain evident. “I rarely take advice from a gunslinger.”

“Mr. Delaney is a bounty hunter, Mama,” Abner said in a rush. “He gets money for catching bad men.”

“Why don’t you go into the house and clean up, honey,” Sarah said to Abner. ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She eyed his bruises with misgiving. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“He’s fine, Mrs. Temple,” Chad assured her. “I chased the boys off before they could do him real harm.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said stiffly as she watched Abner run off. “And it’s Miss Temple. I’m not married.”

It wasn’t necessary for Sarah to enlighten Chad concerning her single state but she didn’t want him to have any misconceptions about her. She’d never tried to hide from the truth and never would. Carbon’s respectable citizens had been quick to condemn her for bearing a child without benefit of marriage. They had labeled her a whore though she’d done nothing to earn the name. Even her own parents considered her a fallen woman. They had listened to her explanation, called her a liar, and promptly disowned her.

Chad gave Sarah a hard look. “Abner’s a fine boy. You really should take better care of him. A woman of your—er—calling must know how the townspeople feel and take measures to protect innocents like Abner from their vicious gossip and cruel acts.”

Sarah bristled defensively. Chad Delaney was a stranger in town yet he had judged her on rumors alone. “You men are all alike. You’re self-indulgent, conscienceless creatures who take what they want and to hell with the consequences.” Unfortunately Sarah was all too aware of the consequences. Abner was the result of a domineering man’s lust and she wasn’t going to let her child suffer because of it.

“You have a harsh opinion of men,” Chad taunted. “Experience has taught me it’s women who can’t be trusted.”

“Experience taught me just the opposite. What right have you to jump to conclusions?” Sarah blasted. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. As for Abner, have you ever tried to keep tabs on an active five-year-old?”

“Does the boy know what you do for a living?” Chad asked harshly.

A brief flare of anger lit the centers of Sarah’s violet eyes. “He most certainly does. He often helps me empty the tubs.”

Her words utterly baffled Chad. What had tubs to do with anything? “I beg your pardon.”

“I take in laundry for a living. Not a glamorous occupation but at least it’s an honest one.”

Chad gave a shout of laughter. ‘Take in laundry? You? Now I’ve heard everything. Those boys hounding your son referred to another occupation, one much less respectable.”

A flush of bright red crawled up Sarah’s neck. “Do you always believe everything you hear, Mr. Delaney? Children aren’t terribly reliable sources of information. Thank you for helping Abner.” Whirling on her heel, she stomped away.

Chad watched her through narrowed lids, admiring the slender curve of her back and the way her black hair tumbled around her shoulders in a mass of springy curls. The frayed hem of her skirt swished enticingly about shapely ankles and vaguely Chad wondered if her legs were as enticing as the rest of her. He reckoned he wasn’t the only man to wonder, nor would he be the last.

Chad saw her disappear behind her shanty and suddenly realized there was much more he wanted to say to the woman. Abner’s sad plight had made a small crack in the wall Chad had erected around his heart, and he wanted to make sure Sarah Temple knew that her son was being mistreated by other children. Most mothers would do everything in their power to keep their children safe.

Chad dismounted and prepared to follow Sarah, cursing Freddie Jackson, the outlaw who had brought him to Carbon. Since leaving Dry Gulch he’d not used a cent of the profit from the Delaney ranch. He hadn’t earned it and refused to accept it. Instead, he’d earned his keep by collecting bounties on outlaws. Currently he was tracking a man named Freddie Jackson, a notorious bank robber wanted by the law. The reward for his capture was a hefty one.

Jackson was an elusive bastard. Chad had been ready to give up on the man when he learned that Jackson hailed from Carbon, Wyoming, and was reported to have relatives in town. Since Chad was in the vicinity, he’d decided to look over the town and question Jackson’s relatives. He hated to give up on the outlaw. He hadn’t counted on encountering a small lad named Abner to distract him from his job and wondered what it was about him that inspired Chad’s protective instincts.

Chad caught up with Sarah in her backyard. He stopped short when he saw a tub filled with steaming water, piles of dirty clothes, and clotheslines stretched across the backyard. His mouth fell open as he watched Sarah stir soft lye soap into the washtub filled with boiling water.

“Good God, she wasn’t lying,” he muttered to himself. Or was she? Nothing made sense. He’d never known a woman who didn’t stretch the truth when it suited her.

Sarah heard Chad behind her and spun around to face him. “What are you doing here? Have you brought your laundry for me?”

“You really do take in laundry.”

She gave an inelegant snort and held out her hands for his inspection. “Look at my hands and judge for yourself.”

Chad stared at Sarah’s hands. They were red, raw, and roughened. Certainly not the hands of a whore. He noticed other things, too. Like her scrupulously clean but neatly mended dress. And her shoes. They were scuffed and worn beyond repair. He couldn’t see the soles but he’d bet his last dollar he’d find holes in them. What he’d observed just didn’t jibe with his perception of a whore. She had freely admitted to being unmarried. She didn’t even try to hide her sinful past by claiming to be a widow as some women might have done.

Suddenly, seeming embarrassed by her red, chapped hands, Sarah pulled them away and hid them in the folds of her skirt. “I don’t have time to stand around talking, Mr. Delaney. There’s laundry to be done and little time in which to do it.”

Turning abruptly, she marched to the firepit and lifted a heavy kettle from the tripod. Chad watched a moment as she struggled with the heavy kettle, then sprang to her aid.

“Here, let me take that,” he said, grasping the handle of the kettle.

“I don’t need your help. I’ve managed by myself quite adequately these past five years and will continue to do so long after you ride out of town.”

Sarah had no idea why she declined Chad’s help. Perhaps it was because she recognized something dangerous in the handsome man. She knew nothing about him. He looked like a gunslinger, and for all she knew he was of the same ilk as Freddie Jackson, a man she loathed above all others. There was a hardness about Chad’s strong features that didn’t bode well for his enemies. Rigid, unpredictable, dangerous. Intuition told Sarah that the calm readiness of his body was more lethal than the weapons he wore.

He was tall and wide-shouldered, with a lean, dark face shadowed by the slant of his dusty, flat-crowned hat. His buckskin trousers and jacket were stained with sweat and trail dust, and permanent squint lines fanned out from the corners of his hazel eyes, giving mute testimony to his vigorous outdoor life. There was a raw, uncompromising strength about him, but the hank of dark brown hair that fell across his forehead softened his appearance.

“Most women would welcome help,” Chad said, trying again to wrest the kettle from her hands.

“I’m not most women. Let go and leave me alone.”

Chad had about all he could take from Sarah Temple. She was obstinate and unappreciative. He didn’t know why he was hanging around, offering to help when his help was spurned. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Helping people could lead to tragic complications. He was living proof of that.

Disgusted, Chad let go of the kettle and spun on his heel, completely unaware of Sarah’s plight as he walked away. Unprepared for his abrupt release, Sarah tripped over her skirts and stumbled forward. The kettle flew from her hands. Momentum carried her toward the tub of steaming water.

Sarah’s first instinct was to fling out her arms to brace herself. Unfortunately there was nothing to stop her fall except the vat of scalding water. She let out a piercing scream as her arms plunged into the water.

Chad heard the scream and automatically went for his guns, turning into a low crouch. What he saw made his hair stand up on edge. Sarah was on her knees beside the washtub, cradling her arms against her. She was deathly pale, her face contorted in pain. Slapping his gun back into his holster, Chad raced to her side, appalled to think that he was to blame for Sarah’s injuries.

Chad’s expression turned grim when he saw how badly she had been scalded. The skin on her hands and arms was red, raw, and already blistering. Chad scooped her up into his arms, noting that she was barely conscious. She needed a doctor, and quickly.

Just then Abner came bouncing out of the house. He saw his mother in Chad’s arms and flew at him. “What happened to Mama? What did you do to her?”

“Your mother fell into the tub of hot water, Abner. She needs a doctor. Is there one in town?”

Abner thought a moment then gave his head a vigorous nod. “There’s Doctor Clayter. He keeps an office above the One-Eyed Jack saloon. Mama took me there once when I broke my arm.”

“Do you think you can find him, Abner? I don’t want to leave your mama alone.”

Chad knew he was placing a big responsibility on the boy but felt he had no choice. The responsibility would be even greater if he left the child alone with his injured mother.

“I’ll bring him back, mister,” Abner promised as he scampered off.

“Tell him your mother’s been scalded,” Chad called after the boy. “And tell him to hurry.”

Chad heard Sarah moan and glanced down at her. Her eyes looked like huge violet smudges in her pale face and her full lips had thinned into a grimace of pain.

“Abner has gone for the doctor,” Chad said, unable to tell whether or not she understood. Her soft moans continued as he carried her into the house. He found himself in the kitchen and paused a moment to get his bearings.

“No… doctor,” Sarah gasped. “Can’t… pay him.”

“Don’t worry about paying the doctor,” Chad said. “The accident was my fault, I’ll take care of it Where’s the bedroom?”

“There,” Sarah said, trying to indicate a direction with one of her injured hands. It was a futile attempt; her hand fell away uselessly.

“I’ll find it,” Chad said, moving from the kitchen to the tiny parlor. He found the bedroom immediately and carefully placed Sarah on the bed. Then he stared down at her, feeling helpless.

“You don’t have to… stick around,” Sarah said. She was in such excruciating pain she could barely think beyond the fact that there was a strange man in her bedroom, and that she didn’t trust men any former man she could throw them.