A Lady in Defiance (27 page)

“Is anything wrong?” Mr. McIntyre disengaged from the
conversation and followed her stare down the street.

“No,” she murmured, knowing the denial sounded weak, but then
she spotted Rose through the traffic. She was standing in front of the Empire
Bakery, holding a package in her arms and a glare that could melt iron. Naomi
noted that besides the malice in her eyes, Rose’s face was leaner, more gaunt
looking. She didn’t look well but she did look furious. “It’s Rose.” Mr.
McIntyre stepped closer to Naomi and scanned the street for his former
employee. Spying her, his body stiffened and a black look crossed his own face.
Clearly, he was none too happy to see Rose. “I caught her watching us the other
day, too.” In the next second, a wagon blocked their view and when it passed,
the woman was gone. Naomi rubbed her arms and wondered if it was Rose’s
expression or Mr. McIntyre’s causing her to shiver. 

~~~

 As Ian and McIntyre arrived for their inaugural dinner,
Naomi was lighting the last candle on the table. McIntyre nearly stumbled when
he saw her with all that golden hair loose and cascading like a shimmering,
magical waterfall. She looked up at him then with big, shining eyes as green as
pure emeralds and he had to force himself to breathe. When she took in his
appearance and smiled, without a hint of malice, he nearly dropped his hat.
What
the devil is the matter with me
, he scolded mentally.

Of course, it was the reaction he’d hoped for, deny it all he
wanted. He and Ian had gone to great pains to impress. Freshly bathed and
smelling of lilac water, their clothes were pressed and boots shined. Did she
notice the way his still-wet black hair curled lazily over his white collar or
the way his perfectly trimmed beard traced his jaw and circled his upper lip?
He’d certainly tried hard enough.

“My, my, gentleman. I am dutifully impressed. You both look
very handsome.” The statement was innocent enough, but McIntyre couldn’t help
feeling that she had somehow made a confession. He raised an eyebrow at her
comment and Naomi looked away.

“We dressed for the importance of the occasion,” Ian joked,
motioning McIntyre to the table. “This isn’t just any other night.”

McIntyre agreed, dropping his hat on a nearby table. “It is
an auspicious occasion.” Both men took an instant to survey the room. Red checked
table cloths covered each table, along with simple centerpieces of pine
branches and holly berries. In the center, a white candle glowed invitingly.
Though there were lamps on the walls and one large light hanging over the
center of the room, they were all turned low. Several candles burned on the
hearth, as well. The setting was simple but elegant in its own rustic way.

McIntyre pulled his chair out. “You have all done a wonderful
job, but it is a little too refined for Defiance.”

Naomi shrugged. “I know, but tomorrow night the lights will
be turned up all the way and we’ll be filled to rafters with less-than-elegant
customers.”

Rebecca pushed her way through the batwings and Hannah came
to the serving window at the sound of the voices. Rebecca nodded to their
guests. “Good evening, gentlemen. Naomi, we’re ready if you’re ready.”

“I am.”

Hannah passed the first tray out with a pitcher of tea and
glasses. As Rebecca and Naomi served, Ian noticed their clothes. “Will these be
yer uniforms then?”

Naomi and Rebecca stepped back from the table to model their
outfits. They had sewn simple black skirts matched with white shirts and
covered with white aprons. Hannah wore a loose black dress covered with a white
pinafore, which she slowly twirled in as she brought the roast chicken from the
kitchen. 

McIntyre was more interested in the way the candlelight
turned Naomi’s hair the color of spun gold. It looked so silky, so touchable−catching
himself staring, he blinked and made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on
Ian, Rebecca, anyone but Naomi. He couldn’t help himself, though, watching her
move, the grace and confidence with which she poured tea, the way the tailored
shirt clung to alluring curves. But it wasn’t just the way she looked, it was
the way she looked back at him: wide-eyed and honest, without malice. For the
first time since meeting Naomi, McIntyre could sense a
thawing
.
Encouraged, he forced away troublesome thoughts of that letter and what he
should do about it. That step could always wait.

The food flowed quickly and smoothly and reached the table
hot. Before long, they were all seated and enjoying a mouth-watering meal. The
conversation was as appealing as the food, and McIntyre savored the way talk of
the future came naturally and with optimism, even from Naomi.  He found it
infectious.

Now that they had a good cook stove, the sisters told their
guests that vegetable canning was underway. The backyard had been transformed
into a small farm, with chicken coops and a cow and, next spring, a garden. The
cow had come when Naomi had offered Sampson as trade, one of the most difficult
things she had done on this journey, McIntyre surmised. But a milk cow was
worth two Sampsons. And so they were fairly settled in their new home and ready
to open their doors to the public...pending approval of the meal by himself and
Ian. Based on the empty plates and the apple pie which had practically been
inhaled, McIntyre was fairly certain the girls had passed muster.

Ian wiped his mouth and laid his napkin on an empty plate.
“If the meals come out tha’ wonderfully every night, I will be a regular
customer.”

“I share your sentiments,” McIntyre drawled, leaning back
casually in his chair and crossing his legs. “I believe you ladies have found
your true calling.”

“
True calling?”
Naomi cocked her head to one side and
gazed at McIntyre. A half-smile played at her lips. “I have to admit I have
enjoyed getting the restaurant up and running.” She turned to her sisters. “I
don’t know if this is our true calling, but it is our business.”

“And ‘tis something to be proud of,” Ian weighed in,
grinning. “I canna think of any other women I know who could have accomplished
such a task. Especially in this town.”

The night waned and Naomi thought Hannah looked pretty
done-in. When her little sister yawned, Rebecca quickly offered to do the
clean-up. Naomi started to protest, but when Ian proposed his assistance, she
took the hint.

“Well,” Mr. McIntyre pushed back from the table and stood. “I
have a few things to check on. Ladies, I can’t remember when I’ve had a more
agreeable meal.” His eyes seemed to linger on Naomi, but she passed it off as
her imagination. He looked quickly at Ian and nodded. “I’ll see you in the
morning?”

“Aye. The plans are finished; I’ll have them with me.”

Mr. McIntyre nodded a farewell, but his eyes did not fall
again on Naomi.

“I guess we’ll hit the hay, too,” Naomi dropped a
not-so-subtle hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “Let’s leave the grown-ups to talk.”
Rising, she pulled the chair out for her little sister and smiled at Ian.
“Thank you for coming tonight.”

Hannah giggled as she rose to her feet. “Yes, we hope you
enjoyed it Now don’t stay up too late, children.”

Embarrassed, Rebecca threw a napkin at her. “Get yourself to
bed, little sister.”

Turning to leave, Naomi saw Mr. McIntyre’s hat. “Oh, he
forgot this.” Without hesitating, she snatched it up and raced outside.
Bursting out on to the porch, she collided with him as he was lighting a
cheroot, knocking it and a lit match to the ground. To keep her from tripping
over him, he grabbed her shoulders. Mischief instantly flamed in his eyes. But
the cocky grin faded to something more serious as he pulled her closer.

Inexplicably panicked by his boldness instead of angered by
it, Naomi wiggled out of his grasp. “Oh,” was all she could muster in her
shock, raising his hat between them like a shield. “You forgot this.” She
shoved it at him, holding her arm arrow-straight. The distance between them
didn’t slow her racing heart or spinning mind.

“So I did.” In the one weak lamp burning on the porch, Naomi
thought she saw a flash of disappointment on his face, but wasn’t sure. Mr.
McIntyre quickly placed the Stetson on his head and retrieved his cheroot from
the ground. “Good night then.” Abruptly, he turned to go.

Perplexed by her reaction to him, Naomi felt for the
doorknob. Watching him walk away calmed her, some. She wanted him to leave and,
yet, she didn’t. The
didn’t
won. “I saw the ax you used.” Mr. McIntyre
stopped but didn’t turn. “The day you helped me chop wood. I saw the ax. The
handle was smeared with blood.” He had chopped wood until his hands bled, while
his hands bled, in fact. She didn’t know why he’d done it, but his perseverance
had impressed her. 

Softly, over his shoulder, he told her, “Let the ax be our
secret, princess.”

Chapter
23

As McIntyre trekked back to the saloon, he mulled over how
Naomi affected him. She’d practically fallen into his arms coming out the door
and the urge to kiss her–well, it had taken an amount of self-control he hadn’t
exercised in years not to. But this was more than a physical attraction and
that was what rattled him. At dinner, she had laughed at one of his jokes and
the sound of her gaiety had washed through his veins like a fine
cabernet. 

He muttered a curse at the memory. All the reasons why she
would never be with a man like him stung him and he cautioned himself to
remember them. They weren’t just two people from different sides of the moral
tracks…they were two people from different sides of the universe. Namely,
Heaven and Hell−

Wade bounded up on the boardwalk from the shadows and fell
into step beside his boss. The interruption was a welcome distraction and
McIntyre waited for Wade’s news. However, when the marshal didn’t speak
immediately, McIntyre grudgingly nudged him.

“What is it, Wade?”

“Doc got called over to the Broken Spoke...”

“And...” McIntyre prompted irritably.

“Lil walked in on Rose and caught her doing some of her Mayan
witchcraft mess. There was a fight…” He blew a long breath into the air,
clearly disturbed by what he had to say next. “Rose practically clawed her eyes
out, Mr. McIntyre.” McIntyre stopped short, but didn’t look at Wade. His
muscles tensing like drying rawhide, he simply waited for the rest. “Then she
hit her with somethin’, maybe a gun, but she knocked Lil clean unconscious.” Looking
around to make sure no one was near, Wade added the last piece of information
in a desperately hushed voice. “While Lil was out, Rose cut three crosses on
her chest.”

McIntyre pulled back.
Three crosses?

“Whatcha reckon that means?” Wade wondered, his eyes round
with fear.

What did it mean?
McIntyre rubbed his neck, fighting the tension building
there. What kind of a demented monster blinded someone with fingernails? Then
carved crosses on the body? Was Rose sending him some kind of grisly message?
“Where is Rose now?”

The marshal folded his arms and hunched his shoulders. “She’s
back in her tent. You want me to go arrest her?”

“Is Doc with Lil?”

“Yessir.”

Inhaling on his cheroot, McIntyre glanced down the street in
the direction of the inn. He wasn’t sure how worried he should be. Were the
crosses a message of some sort aimed at him or the sisters? Or were they merely
Rose’s twisted way of inflicting a little additional misery. He assumed the
latter. “Leave Rose where she’s at. If we arrest these gals every time they
have a catfight, we’ll be running the brothels from our office.”

The second the words were spoken, though, McIntyre found
they’d left a bad taste in his mouth.  His attitude was flippant and
callous, even for him. Lil should have been able to take Rose, no contest. Now
she’d been savagely attacked and it was his fault. He’d pawned his problem off
on her. A move that could cost Lil her eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t keep
underestimating Rose. “On second thought, lock her up.” Wade shifted
uncomfortably at the directive and McIntyre knew why. “You can take help, Wade.
Take a dozen men if you’re that afraid of her, but put her behind bars and let
her sit for a few days…till I decide what to do with her.”

~~~

As the sound of Hannah’s and Naomi’s footsteps and whispering
voices faded, Ian turned his chair so he could look at Rebecca more squarely.
Rubbing his beard, he studied her in the candlelight. Rebecca tried not to
squirm, but his eyes drilled into her. Before she could ask why the scrutiny,
he cleared his throat.

“I’ve high hopes for yer restaurant. It’ll be no time at all
and ye’ll be needin’ to hire more help.”

The suggestion brought Rebecca round to a question she’d
meant to ask him a hundred times. An issue had come to the sisters’ attention,
but the time had not seemed right to address it. However, the days were passing
so quickly now, there was no more time to wait. “Ian, I’ve heard rumors of
mid-wives in Tent Town, but is there a good doctor in Defiance? I haven’t seen
an office or heard anyone mention him…”