Another Dawn (27 page)

      
That sounded like the best idea Luke had heard today. He guided Jenny through the kitchen door, sensing that Marshal Weathers was right behind them.

      
Sofie stood in the center of the kitchen, staring toward the door. He wanted her, but he also feared her. Maybe the stranger's reaction to him had triggered that reminder. Luke's future–the future he wanted for himself–could be destroyed by this woman who made his libido spring to life every time he saw or thought about her.

      
More than his libido, dammit. She made his heart swell with–

      
No!

      
He'd known leaving Redemption was the wisest course of action, but now he'd fiddle-farted around until he was trapped. He'd promised to protect Jenny until the circuit judge came to town.

      
Yes, he was trapped all right. With Sofie.
 

      
And with himself.

      
"I heard some kind of wild animal," she said, standing. "But I don't think the sound came from outside."

      
"It was Mr. Smith," Jenny said, taking Sofie's hand. "He came clear up off the bed and tried to attack Father Salazar."

      
Sofie jerked her head up to stare at Luke. "What? Why would he do such a thing?"

      
Luke shook his head. "I don't know, but I'll never forget the look in his eyes."
 
Another chill rippled through him.

      
"That man had murder in his eyes," Marshal Weathers said from behind Luke. "I've seen it before. Many times. Make no mistake."

      
Luke met the marshal's gaze and nodded. "I won't."

      
Marshal Weathers inclined his head toward Jenny. "I reckon it's dark enough now. You ready, young lady?"

      
Jenny's eyes were large and trusting. Luke's gut clenched again. He'd promised to protect her, and to prevent Shane and Zeke from being hanged.

      
A promise is a promise.

      
"Can I go see Shane first?" Jenny asked. "Please?"

      
Sam Weathers knelt in front of Jenny and patted her shoulder. "You gotta understand, Miss Jenny, that we're tryin' to protect you and your brother."

      
"I know."

      
"I'm powerful sorry, but the only place you're goin' is the parsonage," he continued, "'til you're ready to tell the bad man's name."

      
Her lower lip trembled and Sofie put a hand on her shoulder. "You can send a message to your brother, though."

      
"Sure, that'd be right fine, but first you gotta climb into this."
 
The marshal aimed his thumb toward an oak barrel sitting near the back door. "Can you do that?"

      
Jenny's eyes widened again, but she nodded and went to look inside. "Oh, it smells dreadful."
 
She wrinkled her nose and turned to face them, a scandalized expression on her young face. "It smells of whiskey."

      
Chuckling, Marshal Weathers lifted her and set her down inside the rancid-smelling barrel. "Well that's 'cuz it is a whiskey barrel. The storekeeper was clear outta empty cracker barrels."

      
Luke shared a smile with Sofie, fighting the urge to take her hand. Soon they'd be at the parsonage with Jenny, and Mrs. Fleming and Dora would go home. The marshal would sleep at the jail to guard Shane. Then Jenny would go to sleep, and Sofie would be there with Luke.

      
Alone.

      
He shifted his weight, hoping to create more room in his jeans for his responsive body. This was getting old–he had to find relief soon. He'd hoped to avoid resorting to the only sexual solace he'd had in prison–what his grandfather had called "Rosie Palm and her five sisters."

      
The marshal put the top on the barrel loosely. Several holes had been drilled in the sides for ventilation, and a rope fashioned a handle for both sides.

      
"Pee-yew," came a muffled voice from deep in the barrel.

      
They all chuckled, then the marshal said, "Quiet in there. Whiskey ain't supposed to talk."
 
He grinned at Luke and Sofie.
      
"Now if you'll grab one side, Father, I'll take the other."

      
"Sure."
 
Luke avoided looking at Sofie again as he followed the marshal's instructions.
 

      
Sofie opened the door and stood back for them to exit. Luke brushed against her as he edged by with his half of the barrel. His gaze locked with hers and she licked her lips, her expression revealing the one thing he'd both feared and hoped to see.

      
Desire.

      
Carrying her carpetbag, Sofie followed the men, relieved that Jenny remained silent. Though Redemption's only street was deserted now, her wary gaze darted around to ensure no one was watching them make their way to the parsonage at the far edge of town.

      
A town that had taken her in without knowing anything about her. They trusted her enough to charge her with the safety of one of their own.

      
Could she make Redemption her permanent home, assuming, of course, she never regained her memory? Though the people here had been good to her, it still didn't
feel
like home. And there was still the issue of her bizarre memories of things which couldn't possibly exist.
 

      
Eventually, she'd have to make some kind of decision about her future. But right now there were more pressing matters, like moving into a safe house with a little girl and a man of God.

      
The man she loved.

      
No, not a man–a priest. She had to keep reminding herself of that, and ignore the impudent voice of reason that insisted
 
priests
were
men, after all. That was dangerous territory–no gray areas allowed here. She couldn't handle it right now.

      
The stone and log parsonage looked warm and friendly, drawing Sofie's thoughts away from Father Salazar and her irrational feelings. She had to concentrate on protecting Jenny. Nothing else mattered now.
 

      
Mrs. Fleming opened the door and within a few minutes, they were all inside, the shutters closed against the chilly night and prying eyes. A warm fire blazed in the hearth, making Sofie's heart ache. It was cozy and inviting, like a real home.

      
Like the home she couldn't remember?

      
She blinked back her scalding tears, determined not to dwell on anything else this evening that would make her cry.

      
Once the door was closed and bolted, Marshal Weathers lifted the lid off the barrel and peered inside. "Whooee. You been drinkin' whiskey in there, Miss Jenny?"

      
A little girl giggle wafted up from the barrel, followed by the top of Jenny's head as she popped up like a Jack-in-the-box and waited for Sam Weathers to lift her out.
 

      
Mrs. Fleming rushed forward and wrinkled her nose. "Couldn't you have found something that didn't reek of spirits, Marshal?" She sniffed the top of Jenny's head. "The child smells like a saloon."

      
"With all due respect, ma'am, I'd be willing to bet you ain't never smelled a saloon."
 
The marshal's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Besides, she'll wash."

      
Sofie hid a smile behind her hand, though she noticed Father Salazar didn't bother hiding his. Even Dora's lips twitched.

      
After a moment of stunned silence, Mrs. Fleming laughed quietly. "Yes, she'll wash, Marshal."
 

      
"Thank you for thinking of this," Dora said, stroking Jenny's hair. "I'll be glad when this is all over and Jenny can come home with us."

      
"You're welcome, ma'am."
 
Marshal Weathers gave Jenny a patient look that was all business. "As soon as Miss Jenny understands we ain't gonna let nobody hurt her, she'll tell us what needs tellin'."

      
Jenny looked down and Mrs. Fleming cleared her throat. "Yes, well..."
 
She turned to Sofie. "I brought you some of my sourdough starter, and a few other things I thought you might need."

      
Sourdough starter
? Sofie'd gone from incompetent physician to Martha Stewart.
Who's Martha Stewart, and why did I think of her now
? And if she could remember this Martha Stewart, why couldn't she remember her own last name?
 

      
"Thank you," she murmured, realizing she had to say something.

      
"Well, I reckon we'd best be goin', before the whole town knows we're here and wonders why."
 
The marshal tweaked Jenny's nose. "You be good."

      
"I will."
 
Jenny looked up–way up–at the marshal, hero-worship shining in her eyes.

      
Who could blame her? Marshal Weathers sounded like Sam Elliot, looked like Tommy Lee Jones–though Sofie couldn't remember exactly who either of those men were, she had no difficulty hearing or picturing them–and he acted like John Wayne. She was practically a trivia queen of nonsensical factoids.

      
But what about the important things? With a sigh, she felt someone watching her, and she looked around to find Father Salazar's gaze fixed on her. Intense.

      
Hungry?

      
She warmed from deep in her core, and her limbs felt loose and languid beneath his scrutiny. Priest or no priest, Father Salazar had noticed her as a woman.

      
She should feel shame–in fact, did to some extent–but she couldn't deny the surge of joy in her heart. And
that
, she reminded herself, should make her even more ashamed.

      
With great effort, she looked away from his intense gray eyes and right into a pair of equally intense ones. Disapproving ones.

      
Mrs. Fleming's lips were pinched and her eyes narrowed as she stared at Sofie. The woman was like a saint, and disapproval displayed itself plainly on her face right now. And it was all for Sofie.

      
That shame she'd been unable to summon a few moments ago now surfaced with a vengeance. Only a harlot–wasn't that what Mrs. Fleming had called Miss Lottie's girls?–would harbor sexual fantasies about a priest. It didn't matter that Sofie's feelings for Father Salazar were more than merely sexual. All that mattered was that her obsession was wrong, wrong,
wrong
.

      
Marshal Weathers strolled toward the door, his spurs jingling with every step. He paused and looked back over his shoulder. "I think it's best we all go, ma'am."
 
His comment was directed at Mrs. Fleming, who hadn't budged, even though Dora was tying her bonnet beneath her chin and pulling her shawl around her shoulders. "So no one wonders what's goin' on here," he added.

      
Sofie suspected that what
might
go on here was exactly what was playing through Mrs. Fleming's mind right now. And it had nothing to do with protecting Jenny.

      
"I..."
 
Mrs. Fleming shook her head and reached for her cape, shooting glances in Sofie's direction every few seconds. "I'm worried about–"

      
A quiet knock at the front door silenced Mrs. Fleming's words and prompted her to usher Jenny into the kitchen. Dora followed, pulling the door closed behind them. Then Marshal Weathers stepped back and allowed Father Salazar to open it just a crack.

      
Sofie noticed the lawman's hand poised above one of his guns, and her heart lurched. There was danger here. Danger for Jenny. She had to stop thinking of Father Salazar and her stupid infatuation.