Cassandra Austin (10 page)

“They don’t look too unfriendly,” Stedwell commented.
“You’re the safecracker. You can break into the house.”

Terris shook his head. “Look, I’ll bet the bigger dog’s unpredictable or it wouldn’t be chained. The one by the door’s probably harmless. You break into the house. I’ll make sure that one stays quiet.”

Stedwell looked at his companion and frowned. “How?”

“How do you think?”

“Wade, we don’t want it to look like anyone’s been here. I think the man will suspect something if he comes home and finds his dog dead.”

Terris snorted. He pulled a paper parcel from his coat pocket and unwrapped it, revealing a small beefsteak.

Stedwell nodded his approval. “You’ve already checked out the place.”

Terris didn’t answer. He started forward and Stedwell followed. As soon as they set foot in the yard, Royal started barking.

“Hush now,” said Terris, walking cautiously toward the dog. “See what I got?”

Royal barked louder.

Stedwell, halfway to the door, turned and hissed, “Toss him the meat.”

Terris did. It didn’t help. Royal strained against the chain, barking and growling, ignoring the steak that landed on the ground not two feet away.

Stedwell, worried that the neighbors might come to investigate the noise, was paying more attention to Royal than Queen until the older dog stood and bared her teeth, issuing a long low warning.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” muttered Stedwell, backing off a step. “You go get the steak.”

A yell from Terris spun him around. The chain had given way, and the dog had nearly flown at Terris. The man turned and fled, the dog close on his heels. A tug on his own pant leg just below the knee reminded Stedwell there was a second dog to worry about.

He tried to shake his leg free only to be nearly pulled off his feet. With a surge of panic, he tore himself away, running out of the yard at a right angle from the retreating safecracker and his pursuing dog.

When Andrew left the bank, having thanked the banker for his help, he went directly to the City Hotel and inquired after Miss Wells.

“Room seven, at the front,” Mr. Ossman told him.

Andrew smiled. “Would you ask her to come down, please?”

The manager spoke to a tall, thin boy scrubbing the floor, and the youth headed up the stairs. Andrew ignored the man’s curious glances while he waited for the boy to return. Mr. Ossman was known as the town’s most inaccurate gossip.

“Here on business, Sheriff?” the man finally asked.

“That’s right,” Andrew answered with a politician’s smile. He was relieved to see the boy on his way down the stairs.

“She said she’d be down in five minutes, and you should wait in the dining room.” The boy returned to his bucket and brush.

Andrew expressed his thanks to them both. It was
midmorning, and the dining room was nearly empty. Andrew asked for coffee and settled in for a wait. If a woman says five minutes she means fifteen, he reasoned.

Not in Miss Francine’s case, however. It meant forty-five. During that time, Andrew’s impatience turned to mild concern and back again. A woman always thought if she made herself lovely enough it was worth any wait to a man. Andrew had never found himself agreeing, though he had pretended to more than once.

When Francine stepped through the double doors that connected the dining room to the hotel, the notion suddenly made perfect sense. Andrew stood and watched her walk toward him. Her cream-colored skirts were too wide for the overfurnished room, but she brushed past the tables and chairs without seeming to mind.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Andrew.” Her cheeks were flushed and her voice was somewhat breathless. He felt flattered that she had hurried down to meet him, though he presumed the breathlessness could be caused by a too-tight corset. Her waist looked uncommonly narrow.

He pulled a chair out for her and returned to his own. “Would you like some coffee? Breakfast?”

“No, but that’s very kind of you, Andrew.” She touched the creamy lace at her throat and unnecessarily adjusted the front of the navy bolero jacket that rode precariously on the peaks of her unnaturally high breasts.

Andrew averted his eyes to his coffee cup. She had been busy, all right. Looking up, he said in his best
business voice, “I just came from the bank.” He caught a glimpse of surprise in her face before she smiled.

“How kind of you. What did you find out?”

He told her the size, type and brand of safe. It was no secret. The safe was new, and the banker was proud to tell everyone about it.

She leaned toward him, looking very earnest. “You didn’t tell the banker why you were asking, did you?”

“No. I told him I had some money I was thinking about moving.” It was the truth, though he had considered telling the banker about her. If his suspicions were correct, the man deserved to be warned. But right now, all he had were suspicions. It could be coincidental, her questions about safes while a safecracker was on the loose.

“You’ve been very kind, Andrew. How can I repay the favor?” She lowered her head and looked at him through her charcoal-smudged lashes.

Andrew smiled. “It’s been my pleasure, Miss Wells. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” He left without a backward glance so he missed the pretty pout that settled on her painted lips.

As soon as the breakfast dishes had been washed and put away, Noella and Easter took Cally to the dining room and showed her where they kept the good china. Cally stood by and watched as Noella set one place at the table, using a startling number of pieces.

“The edge of the plate should be one inch from the edge of the table. Put the bowl on top,” Noella instructed.

“The soup bowl, not the dessert bowl,” added Easter.

“The knife here, fork here, spoon here, and of course, the soupspoon here.”

“The soupspoon’s the big one.” Easter smiled at Cally. She tried to smile back. The silly old lady thought this was fun.

Noella went on as if there had been no interruption. “Bread plate, butter knife, sauce dish, saltcellar, dessert dish. Unless the dessert is the kind that’s dipped up in the kitchen and brought to the table. Water glass here. Wineglass here.” She stepped back and motioned Cally forward to view her handiwork.

Cally thought it looked like a mess. How could anyone actually eat this way? They must knock things over a lot, she decided.

“Now you do one, dear.” Cally saw Noella cast Easter a disapproving look for the endearment, but Easter missed it. Cally carried one of each of the different dishes to the table and, by referring often to Noella’s model, set a fair place. Noella even said so.

“I won’t remember it though,” Cally pointed out. She didn’t mean to be arguing with the women, but if they thought she would be able to set a whole table after this one lesson, they needed to know the truth.

“That all right, Cally,” Noella said stiffly. “One of us will set one place for you each time until it comes naturally to you.”

Each time?
How often did they plan to have these dinner parties?

Noella was already removing the serving dishes from the bottom of the sideboard. “Now you must learn how to serve the food,” she said.

Easter took a place at the table, and Cally watched as Noella explained with one dish after another. She served make-believe soup, meat and vegetables into the two table settings while Easter added her encouragement. She repeated the process until even Noella was satisfied.

After the lesson she was sent downtown to shop. Before she left the house, she wrapped two muffins left from breakfast in a cloth and tucked them into her basket. She didn’t look too closely at her motives. She told herself simply that her animals might suffer if she and Andrew were fighting. Andrew. She rather liked the name, though she would always call him Haywood or Sheriff, of course.

The new shoes the sisters had bought her with money withheld from her pay, tapped rather than clumped along the boardwalk. They made her feel light and purposeful. There was something very efficient about shoes that fit. The shoes were the reason she walked toward the sheriff’s office with such eagerness, not because of any desire to see the sheriff.

She had already decided the sheriff’s office would be her first stop. Again, it wasn’t that she was eager to see him or in danger of losing her courage if she put this errand off. She simply needed to deliver the muffins before she started filling the basket with the items on the Gwynns’ list.

She hadn’t gotten used to the difference between walking along these streets now, in her gray dress and apron, and before in her men’s clothes with Royal by her side. People still noticed her, but it was different. They were looking at a woman rather than a curiosity, and she had to admit she liked it.

The sheriff’s office seemed different, too, with sunlight streaming through the windows. She had come so often in the evenings to see Pa. For a second she expected Pa to be in the cell. The eerie feeling passed with the sight of the man at the desk. It wasn’t Andrew.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” the young man asked as he stood.

“Where’s Andr…Haywood?”

The man’s friendly face opened in a broad grin. “He’s been called out of town on business. I’m the deputy. I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do for you?”

Cally couldn’t help but remember the last time Andrew had left town. He had dragged her into town claiming she wouldn’t be safe while he was gone. This time he didn’t even let her know. She knew it was stupid to feel hurt.

“It was nothing important.” She forced herself to smile at the deputy. “I just had some muffins left over. You can eat them as well as he can, I suppose.” She handed the parcel to the deputy.

He sniffed appreciatively. “I’ll be sure to tell him you came by, Miss…ah?”

“Miss DuBois,” answered Cally, feeling more angry at Haywood by the minute. “But you don’t need to mention the muffins unless you want to.”

She turned and left the office, wrinkling her nose at the pictures on the wall. She had almost forgotten about them. Her loneliness made her forget a lot of things. She walked toward the grocer’s store, deciding she was glad that Haywood hadn’t been in his office.

While she was downtown shopping, she decided
something else as well. Tonight she would check on her garden.

Just before dark, Val headed toward the soddy. Last time he had visited his cohorts he had gotten the distinct impression that Terris wasn’t exactly waiting patiently. The man was liable to do something rash and ruin everything.

Val was well aware that he needed these two more than they needed him. His job was to make them think otherwise. With that in mind, he had done as he had promised and found them another place to stay. The rest would have to be bluff for the moment. But then, he was a gambler.

As he rode up to the soddy, Stedwell met him at the door, calling cheerfully over his shoulder, “Company, Wade.”

“Tell me we’re getting outta this dump,” Terris growled from the bunk. “I’m damn tired of sitting around here.”

“Lying around,” Stedwell corrected with a grin.

“As promised, gentlemen,” Val said as he stepped inside, “I’ve found you a place in town.” Having both men’s full attention, he explained, “There’s a room in the back of the saloon. It can be rented for poker games or whatever. Jesse James holed up there about a year ago, or so the man says. There’s a peephole so you can see what’s happening in the saloon half a flight below, and a trapdoor to the roof if you need a way out. The owner will bring up your food and keep his mouth shut.”

“Sounds risky,” muttered Terris.

“Sounds like heaven,” countered Stedwell.

“Whatever.” Val took the empty chair and went on, “It’s the best I can do. The more questions I ask, the more dangerous it becomes.”

“I can see your point,” said Stedwell. “When do we move?”

“Now.”

Terris swung his legs off the bunk and started to rise. With a groan, he dropped back to the bunk.

“What’s his problem?” Val asked.

“Oh, he sprained his ankle running from Haywood’s place,” Stedwell explained, not unsympathetically.

Val eyed the man’s stocking feet. One might have been slightly larger than the other. He wasn’t interested in examining them too closely. “But you did find a place to stash the money?”

Stedwell shook his head. “We didn’t even get inside the house.”

Val frowned. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll come up with something.”

Terris sat up again, careful not to put his right foot on the floor. “You’ll damn sure come up with something. That’s the whole idea, ain’t it?
You’ll
make all the plans. Well, how
are
those plans coming, Milton? I’m beginning to wonder if you’re just stringing us along.”

Val stood. “The plan’s taking shape. But these things take time. You want to walk away from this one without shackles on your feet, don’t you? Hell, if we pulled the job tonight, you wouldn’t
walk
away at all!”

The words had the desired effect. Stedwell gathered up their few belongings as Val went to saddle the
horses. Terris was able to hobble out to his horse and, with Stedwell’s help, made it into the saddle.

The sprained ankle clearly didn’t improve Terris’s disposition, and Val wasn’t sure it would make him any easier to control. It did, however, buy Val a little time.

A
ndrew had trouble sleeping. A minor altercation in a small town at one corner of the county had kept him away most of the day. It had forced him to put off his plan to get over Cally by overexposure to her temper.

He had come home late to find Royal chewing on a remnant of a steak bone. Cally had brought it, he supposed. He checked the dog’s chain and discovered another of Cally’s repairs.

At the door, he found Queen chewing on a piece of cloth with a gusto that matched Royal’s. It didn’t seem like an equal gift, but he assumed Queen had already devoured her treat. Since he didn’t recognize the cloth as anything he owned, it was a mystery hardly worth pursuing.

A bigger surprise was Queen’s trying to follow him into the house. She hadn’t done that before, though he was sure Cally had always let her in at night. He had even considered allowing it, thinking he wouldn’t trip over her if she was inside. In the end he had
decided it wasn’t something he wanted to get started, and had pushed her back out.

Now as he paced his bedroom in the dark, he decided the mystery of Queen’s behavior and the square of cloth would be a better excuse for calling on Cally than his original plan of calling on her as her guardian. He had already determined that the Gwynns’ house would be a better setting for their meetings than his yard when she did the chores. She tended to run away from him here.

Yet she had come to his office. Bill had enjoyed passing that information on to him. She had come, leaving muffins, which reportedly were delicious, but no message. Bill seemed to think the muffins represented a woman’s usual route to a man’s heart. Andrew tended to think of them as a peace offering. Bill had handed him the cloth the muffins had been wrapped in, suggesting he return it personally.

He found himself smiling again. It just reinforced his conviction that he needed to do something about his tender feelings for Cally. He didn’t need the bighearted girl complicating his life. He had two good reasons to call on her, and tomorrow he would do it. She would be her usual illogical self, and he would feel much better.

He walked to the window and gazed down into his moonlit yard. Royal was alert, intent on some sound or other. Andrew had become used to seeing the big dog at his post under the tree. He rather liked having the dog, though he had very little time for him. The poor beast had adjusted well, considering he had been used to spending every waking moment at Cally’s side.

As he watched, the dog came to his feet. With one wild lunge, he snapped the chain. Andrew groaned. The dog would be out chasing rabbits all night. He tried to decide if there would be anything gained by going after him, but Royal trotted back into the yard, a small figure at his side. From Andrew’s position at the window, the figure looked like a pile of rumpled clothes with a floppy hat on top.

“Cally, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?” he murmured, shaking his head. “Something I won’t like, I’m sure.” He watched her remove the chain from the dog’s neck and wondered if she came to see him every night. It would be like her, he thought.

The two companions walked to the barn and disappeared inside. Andrew leaned on the window frame and sighed. Of course the dog adjusted more quickly than the girl. She had, as she said, lost everything. The dog was her best friend, and they ought to be together. The current situation was far from perfect.

Standing at the window he found himself sorely tempted by the open barn door. Any thoughts he had of comforting Cally, however, were dangerously mixed with the image of her in the white gown. He had to resist.

Yet he couldn’t pull himself away from the window. He had to wait for her to reemerge. When she did a short time later, he was taken by surprise. She led Jewel out of the barn and turned to close the door. He stared in shock as she swung onto the mule’s back. With Royal at their side, mule and rider trotted down the drive. Andrew wasted a full minute blinking down at his now empty yard.

“She’s going home,” he muttered, turning away at last. He took only enough time to slip into his pants and boots before he headed down the stairs.

Grabbing his coat as he reached for the doorknob, he was brought up short by the note tacked inside the back door. “Dog,” it proclaimed in large black letters. He would have tripped again if his note hadn’t reminded him.

“They would go home, wouldn’t they, girl?” he asked Queen as he stepped over her, throwing on the coat at the same time. “Cally wouldn’t just run away, would she?”

He became more worried about her with each second. He saddled his horse and headed toward Cally’s farm, knowing if his guess was wrong, he would have to wait until morning to try to track her.

He hadn’t guessed wrong. He was barely out of town when he saw the strange trio silhouetted in the moonlight. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to confront her. He was too curious about what she intended to do. Surely she didn’t plan to run off the new owner.

She disappeared into the shadow of the trees at the creek and Andrew slowed to give her time to cross. Once in the creek himself he discovered she had left the mule in the trees. He left his horse as well and followed quietly.

After a moment he saw Cally and Royal creeping forward. It seemed the house wasn’t her destination, after all. While Royal watched the house, Cally crept into the garden.

Andrew returned to the trees to wait. After a few
minutes he saw her hurrying awkwardly back to the mule.

Andrew mounted his horse and drifted farther away. He wasn’t sure the gambler was actually staying in the soddy, but, if he was, Andrew didn’t want him to overhear when he confronted Cally. He was glad he had taken the precaution. Royal warned her of his presence with a bark that could have been heard for a mile or more.

“It’s me,” he said, as much for Royal’s sake as Cally’s.

She brought the mule up to within a few feet of him before she spoke. “You followed me,” she accused.

He leaned toward her. “You trespassed,” he countered.

She shook her head. “That’s my garden.”

“Not anymore.” He wanted to impress upon her the danger she was in when she did foolish things like this. At the same time, he sensed she wouldn’t be convinced by the usual arguments. She wasn’t a logical person.

After a full minute Cally broke the silence. “Are you going to arrest me?”

Andrew wanted to laugh. He hadn’t thought of that, but it made perfect sense. “I’ll release you into the custody of the Gwynns in the morning.”

Cally tried to turn Jewel, but the old mule was far slower than Andrew’s mare. “You can’t arrest me,” she protested, as he took the reins from her.

“Why?” he wanted to know.

Cally tried to think of something that would appeal to the coldhearted sheriff. Nothing came to mind.

She glanced at Andrew’s face in the moonlight. He looked rather pleased with himself. He was finally getting his revenge for all the times she had tried to free her father. She couldn’t hardly blame him for that, she supposed.

“The old ladies will kill me,” she muttered. She could imagine how upset they would be to find their breakfast wasn’t ready and their cook in jail. “Oh, the scandal!” Miss Noella would say.

As they reached town, Cally began to hope that he wasn’t serious, that it was just a bluff to get her to do as he said. But as they rode past Andrew’s house and didn’t turn off on the Gwynns’ street, her hopes sank. Andrew dismounted in front of the jail and tied the mare and the mule to the hitching post.

Cally made no move to dismount. There had to be some way to convince him not to lock her up. When he reached up to help her down, she whispered, “I’ll do anything.”

She wondered at his reaction to the words. His hands were on her waist, and he eased her slowly to the ground. “Anything, Cally?” he whispered. “That’s quite an offer.”

She had no idea why the words made her pulse race. Or was it his voice and his touch? He hadn’t stepped away from her. She had to crane her neck to look at him. An instant before it happened she knew. He was going to kiss her! She raised herself to the tips of her toes.

Her hat fell to the ground. The mule sidestepped, bumping the mare. The mare danced as far away as her tether would allow. None of this mattered to Cally. The mysterious feelings stirred inside her again
as she was encircled in his arms. The warmth of his lips spread through her body until her fingers and toes tingled.

Abruptly he pulled away. Cally slowly settled back down to the soles of her feet, eyes still closed, savoring the strange feelings she had, until recently, thought of as a dangerous illness.

She opened her eyes when she heard Andrew take a ragged breath. “Go home, Cally,” he whispered. “To the Gwynns’, I mean. Now.”

She hesitated a moment, afraid her knees would shake. Then she remembered the threat of jail, and turned, grabbing up her hat before hurrying down the boardwalk. Was that all she had to do to stay out of jail? Kiss the sheriff? She found herself grinning. She wished she had thought of that sooner. She was nearly to the Gwynns’ back door when she discovered Royal had followed her.

Cally took Royal back to Andrew’s the next morning. She had known when she let him in that the sisters would be furious if they caught her, but she slept so much better with the big dog beside her bed. Too much better. It was almost dawn when she awoke. She dressed in the pants knowing she could work faster in them. She slipped out the back door in a matter of minutes and ran all the way to Andrew’s.

She didn’t bother trying to fix Royal’s chain but hurried to the barn to milk Belle, hoping she could get away without meeting Andrew. Would he be sorry he hadn’t locked her up last night? Would he threaten her again? Would she be able to change his mind with a kiss?

She caught herself before she giggled. This kissing business had turned out to be much more interesting than she had first thought. If it could make someone as tough as Sheriff Haywood back down, it had great powers, indeed.

It occurred to her that she had a little trouble seeing the sheriff as a bloodthirsty snake anymore. She wondered if that might be
his
kisses working on
her.
Perhaps kissing was something she ought to be very careful of.

She hurried out of the barn as Andrew came out of the house, stepping over Queen. He walked toward her, but she pretended she didn’t see him. She didn’t stop until he called her name. “I’m late,” she said.

“I want to talk to you.” He sounded a little uncertain. A strange sound for him, she thought.

She turned toward him to be sure he could hear but continued her escape by walking backward. “The old ladies will be upset if breakfast isn’t ready.” Her own voice shook just a little, but only because she was afraid she would trip.

“All right.” He was letting her go! “Can I come by to see you later?”

Cally shrugged. She didn’t know what to make of the question so she simply nodded. “Keep Royal here, will you?” She turned and nearly fled the yard.

She hadn’t been fast enough. Noella waited in the kitchen when she came in. The woman’s face went from stern to shock to open reproach in the time it took Cally to set the bucket of milk down and close the door.

“I thought you burned those clothes.” Noella’s nose wrinkled in extreme distaste.

“I washed them, instead,” Cally said. “Milkin’s a sight easier in pants.”

Noella tapped her foot. “But
I
remember distinctly telling you to burn them.”

Easter came sleepily into the kitchen, having heard her sister’s voice. “What?” she asked, then staggered back a step when she caught sight of Cally. She shook her head, clicking her tongue.

“Exactly,” declared Noella.

Cally was bewildered. They had seen her in the pants before. Not since they had told her to burn them, of course, but really, they weren’t that horrible. She
had
washed them. Maybe the old ladies were like Haywood and expected every order to be obeyed.

Noella slumped into a chair. “I am at a loss as to what to do with you, young lady.”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t know,” suggested Easter.

Noella studied her sister then returned her gaze to Cally. Cally wanted to tell them she knew a lot they didn’t, like how hard it was to milk a cow when you were wearing a dress and how hard it was to keep the hem clean in the chicken house, but was afraid it would nettle them more.

Noella and Easter were studying her so intently she squirmed. She felt she ought to say something. “I’m sorry I overslept,” she offered. It wouldn’t be a good idea to explain that she was out last night harvesting her squash, which the sheriff had stolen away from her.

The apology didn’t seem to ease the tension even a little bit. The two women continued to study Cally and exchange knowing looks. Cally was ready to
scream by the time Noella finally spoke. “I think you’re right, Easter. Growing up without a mother, the girl just doesn’t know.”

Easter took a seat at the table and divided her attention between Cally and Noella. Obviously, she waited for her sister to explain whatever was on both their minds. The tension made Cally want to fidget. “Can I strain the milk now?” she ventured.

“No, Cally. Come sit down.” Noella indicated the chair across the table from her and waited until Cally was seated to go on. “Did your mother ever talk to you about…well, where babies come from?”

“Babies?” Cally blinked. She knew a little about babies, at least where cows and dogs were concerned. But she hadn’t learned it from Ma. “I was still mostly a baby myself when she died.”

“You poor dear,” said Easter.

Noella scowled at her sister then turned her attention back to Cally. “It’s important that a young lady know these things to protect herself.”

“From what?” Cally had noticed that quite often these two women didn’t make sense.

“From men.” Noella straightened in the chair, and Cally could tell she was ready to launch into her explanation. She braced herself.

“Men are like…bees. They will try to take nectar from as many flowers as they can. It is up to the flower to stop him.”