Cassandra Austin (9 page)

When they reached the Gwynns’ house, Noella stepped onto her porch and motioned them to drive
the wagon around to the back door, where both sisters met them.

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” said Noella.

Easter looked uncomfortable with her sister’s greeting, but said nothing to soften it. “Bring her things into her room, Sheriff,” she instructed.

Haywood carried the trunk, and Cally followed, struggling with the rocking chair. When they walked back to the wagon, the sisters were examining the crates of canned goods. They looked pleased but said nothing about them.

Cally lifted a half-filled crate and Haywood a heavier one, and they made a second trip into the house. When Haywood would have set the crate on the table in the kitchen, Cally brushed past him. “Put all these in my room, too,” Cally whispered. Haywood followed her directions, and she thought she saw him smile.

Noella pointed out the entrance to their cellar, and Cally watched her potatoes disappear under the Gwynns’ house. She knew they would spoil if she tried to keep them in her room. For a moment she wished she had left them at Haywood’s or even the farm.

Finally the wagon was unloaded, and Haywood was ready to leave. It seemed odd to hate to see him go.

The sisters had no trouble dismissing him. “Come along inside, dear,” said Easter, following her sister into the house.

Haywood came to stand close beside her. “Good luck, Cally.”

She nodded, hoping none of her fear showed on her face.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

She bit her lower lip and vowed not to look at him, even as she turned her face toward him. “I’ll be over to milk and such toward evening.”

He nodded, ready to desert her. Quite suddenly, he bent and kissed her cheek, then turned and climbed onto his wagon. Cally hurried to the house so she wouldn’t have to watch him drive away.

The Gwynn sisters were waiting for her in the kitchen. Noella glared at her. “You must bathe and change into appropriate clothes. I daresay you can handle that yourself this time. We’ll return in an hour and give you instructions for lunch.” The tall woman turned on her heel and left the room, Easter following.

“I don’t think I much care to have instructions for lunch,” Cally muttered to the closed door. “I’m used to more tasty food than instructions.” She stood in the huge kitchen for a long moment and considered running, then with a deep sigh, she turned to put water on the stove to heat for her bath.

The little soddy had been vacant only a few hours when the new tenants arrived. Val Milton, Parker Stedwell and Wade Terris pulled up sharply in the dusty yard and looked around.

“This don’t come close to what you described, Milton,” Terris groused.

“Oh, I don’t know, Wade,” Stedwell said, tipping his head and closing one eye. “It almost looks habitable.”

Milton sighed. “The old man talked about his neat little farm and his cozy little house. I had no idea his standards were so low.”

Terris glared at him. “Are you damn sure you’ve got the right place?”

“I’m afraid so. The sheriff gave precise instructions.”

“You should have told him to ride along,” Terris suggested with a grin.

Val chose to ignore him. He was somewhat disappointed in his new farm, but he, of course, would be staying in town. Part of him felt pleased that his companions wouldn’t be particularly comfortable.

He dismounted and the others followed suit, taking down their carpetbags and sacks of supplies. Terris was the first to venture into the sod house. In a moment he came out, shaking his head. Val noticed Stedwell watching his companion with amusement. “What do you think, Wade?” the forger asked.

“I think it beats a jail cell, but not by much.”

Stedwell followed Terris back inside to see for himself. Val decided to give them a few minutes to accept their hideout and led the horses into the rundown barn.

When he joined the other men a short time later, they both had found chairs and were staring at their surroundings, Terris in obvious disgust and Stedwell in good-humored resignation. Finding no other chair, Val perched on the end of one of the bunks beside a haphazard pile of clothes.

Terris lifted a tin plate from the stack on the table and let it fall from his fingers with a clank. “Do you
suppose DuBois’ daughter intentionally made a mess for us before she left?”

Val shook his head. “Looks to me like the after-effects of some very fast packing.”

“Well, we’re all familiar with that,” Stedwell said, leaning back in his chair, completely at ease.

Terris gave a short, humorless laugh. “Probably glad as hell to get out of here.”

Stedwell said. “You haven’t told us the plan yet, Val. How long will we be out here?”

“Not long,” Val said, trying not to look too closely at his surroundings. “The plan is to rob the bank and frame Haywood. We need to know as much as we can about both before we make our move.”

“Meanwhile, you’ll be in a hotel in town,” growled Terris.

Val knew better than to smile. “I’ll be the one asking questions, since neither of you can. Fancy should get here in the next day or so. You two can check out Haywood’s house while she finds a way to keep Haywood busy.”

Val found it hard to ignore Terris’s snort. He knew what the bastard was thinking. He couldn’t be completely certain that wasn’t exactly what Fancy would be thinking too, especially after she saw Sheriff Haywood.

“We’ll need a place to stash the money that will implicate Haywood,” he went on. “Someplace we can get to fast that won’t be too hard for a deputy to find. But it’s still got to look like a reasonable place for a thief to choose.”

Terris seemed to be only half-listening. He picked up a dented tin cup. “Say, Parker, when that sister of
yours gets to town we ought to get her out here to tidy up the place.”

Parker Stedwell grinned and winked at Milton. “He doesn’t know Fancy, does he?”

It was almost dark by the time Cally was able to leave the Gwynn house to do her chores. The sisters had followed her around all afternoon, instructing her on cooking, serving and cleaning. It was easy to see they thought she was completely stupid. They had even shown her how to dust; how else would anybody do it?

She held the borrowed lantern in front of her as she walked through the shadowy streets. She didn’t look forward to carrying both it and the full milk bucket back to the Gwynns’ in the dark. In the future she would have to talk the old ladies into letting her leave earlier, perhaps before she cleaned up the dinner dishes. Surely they wouldn’t insist on watching over her shoulder every day.

She had changed back into the men’s clothes she had refused to burn. Her hair was still in the tight chignon Easter had shown her how to make and, thinking it would keep her hair out of her way, she had left her hat behind.. A few blocks from the Gwynns’ she began to regret it. She felt exposed without the hat to hide her face.

A light burned in Haywood’s house, and Cally wondered what he was doing. She imagined him noticing her and her lantern going up the drive. Would he be glad that she had finally arrived to do her chores, or had he even noticed or cared whether they were done or not?

Before she was past the house, she heard Royal bark. One soft word from her, and the dog was quiet, but in a second he came bounding toward her. She set the lantern on the ground and crouched to greet him, forgetting about her possible audience in her pleasure at seeing Royal again. She hugged him and ruffled his fur, discovering that he had a chain around his neck.

“Poor Royal,” she murmured. “I know it’s not easy. But at least the mean old sheriff lets you have a long leash.”

“The mean old sheriff didn’t intend for him to roam quite that far.”

Cally gasped at the sound of Haywood’s voice. She knew her cheeks were burning but hoped she was too far from her lantern for him to tell. He stood in nearly total darkness. “Don’t sneak up on me,” she said, hoping to sound indignant enough to take his mind off her insult.

“Sorry,” he said, moving into the circle of light He didn’t look as angry at her as she had expected, but he didn’t look especially sorry, either. Actually he looked amused. The cruel man enjoyed frightening her, she decided.

“Get the lantern,” he said, starting toward the barnyard. “Come on, Royal, let’s try this again.”

Cally didn’t understand what he meant until she discovered Royal’s long chain wasn’t connected to anything but a broken stake. She grinned to herself as she followed, secretly proud of her dog for besting Haywood.

“How about a tree this time, boy? You can’t break that, can you?” He talked to the dog as if he were
his.
“There we go. You stay here, now.” He straightened from the task and walked toward Cally, making her wish she hadn’t followed so closely. “Everything’s done but the milking,” he said.

Cally felt a surge of anger. Did he have to take over everything? She opened her mouth to say so, but he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Cally, but I haven’t milked in years.”

“I don’t want you to milk my cow,” she stated, her voice growing louder with each word. “I don’t want you to feed my animals. And—and—I don’t want you pretending like my dog is yours!”

He seemed completely surprised by her outburst. So was she, but she wouldn’t apologize. It had been a terrible day and having to talk to him made it worse.

“It was getting late,” he said in that warm honey voice. She knew by now to be wary of it. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get away. Actually, I was about to give up on you and try to milk as well. I didn’t think you’d mind, Cally. I only wanted to help.”

He moved toward her as he spoke. He was close enough to touch, close enough for her to imagine her head on his shoulder or his lips against hers. She shook herself. “I’ll milk Belle,” she said quickly, nearly running past him to the barn. Royal, following as far as he could, set up a tremendous barking that Haywood quieted with a word.

Cally wanted to swear the entire time she milked. She had to force herself to be calm to get Belle to cooperate. Finally she left the barn, lantern in one hand, bucket of milk in the other. To her dismay, Haywood waited by the back door. He lifted a small
basket and stepped out to meet her. Royal came to meet her too, at least as far as the chain would allow. She stopped to say goodbye to Royal, ignoring the sheriff standing nearby.

When she had reminded Royal to stay, she gathered her burdens and started down the drive. Royal sat and whimpered.

Haywood fell into step beside her. “There were only two eggs,” he said, indicating the basket.

Eggs. She hadn’t even thought about how to carry them back as well. “Keep them,” she said, hoping she sounded generous instead of desperate.

“Cally,” he started.

“Yes?” She walked a little faster.

“Let me carry the bucket.”

“Why?”

“I’m walking you home. Let me carry the bucket.”

Cally stopped abruptly. “You’re what?”

“It’s dark. I’m walking you home.” He sounded hurt that the notion would surprise her. He was always so sure of himself.

Cally took a deep breath. “Home? You took my home.” Her anger at the whole situation seemed to explode. The next moment she shouted, “You took everything. You even took my dog.”

Royal barked and Haywood turned toward him, giving Cally a chance to hurry on her way. At first, she expected him to follow, then realized he had to quiet Royal or the neighbors would complain. Maybe Royal was still on her side after all.

A
ndrew fought the urge to go home early. He had nearly given in when a woman entered his office. He came slowly to his feet. Sunny blond hair caught the lamplight. A deep blue dress of the latest fashion hugged a very shapely body, and eyes of the same shade looked casually around the office before turning to him. Her smile was warm but formal.

Andrew smiled back. “May I help you, ma’am?”

“Why, I hope so, Sheriff.” She presented him with a gloved and somewhat limp hand. “You are the sheriff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sheriff Andrew Haywood.”

“Francine Wells,” she said smiling sweetly.

“How might I be of service?” Andrew motioned toward a chair and, once she was seated, returned to his own.

She folded her hands demurely on her lap. “I will be moving to your fair city soon, and, well, sir, a woman alone just can’t be too careful, you understand.”

Andrew nodded. While he waited for her to go on,
he studied an artful curl at her ear that was supposed to have escaped its place in her perfectly styled hair. A real woman was just what he needed to get his mind off Cally. He hadn’t talked to her for two days. He missed her spunky wisecracks. Yesterday, she had slipped in to do her chores and out again before he got home, which was why he had been thinking of going home now. Not a good sign, he decided. He was grateful to this beautiful woman for stopping him from making a foolish mistake.

“I have quite a sum of money I wish to transfer to the local bank,” she explained in silky tones. “I must be certain that my money will be safe.”

“It’s a very stable bank, to my knowledge, ma’am.”

“I’m sure it is.” She turned her head slightly giving him a view of her pretty profile and long slender neck. “You see, sir, I’ve heard so much about robberies here in the West. Her gaze turned on him again. “I want to be sure they’ve taken every precaution.”

The rose-petal lips gave him a shy smile. She did everything but bat her lashes. Andrew was flattered. He was also suspicious. He cleared his throat, successfully clearing his head as well. “I’m sure the bank president would be glad to give you a tour.”

She frowned a very becoming frown. “I would like to do as you suggest, of course, but I’ve been through this before. Ladies, especially attractive ones—” She paused for confirmation, which of course she got “—we’re so often treated as if we haven’t a brain in our heads. Businessmen are especially fond of telling us not to worry, they’ll handle everything. But I believe
a woman needs to look out for herself. Don’t you agree, Mr. Haywood?”.

Andrew couldn’t help but think of Cally’s determination to do just that. And his own conviction that she couldn’t. “Yes, of course,” he said.

“Lawmen seem to be a little more in tune with…reality, shall we say. That’s why I’ve come to you. You’ve been inside the bank, I’m sure.”

Andrew nodded. He described the general layout of the bank and answered her questions about the number of tellers and each one’s ability to stay calm in an emergency. He felt a little odd discussing the bank with this stranger, but he didn’t tell her anything she couldn’t find out simply by walking into the place herself.

Finally she asked him about the safe, the size, the style, the make. The woman knew more about safes than he did. He couldn’t keep the surprise from his face.

She took a deep breath, stretching the material across her breasts to a dangerous degree. “I’ve made it a point to know these things. It is, after all, my money. You do understand, don’t you, Andrew? It’s all right if I call you Andrew, isn’t it?”

“Quite all right…Francine?”

She smiled. The perfectly shaped lips revealed perfectly straight teeth. Her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds. Andrew found himself saying, “I’ll check for you first thing in the morning.”

She rose to leave, and Andrew hurried to escort her to the door. When he reached for the knob, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You won’t tell the banker why you’re asking, will you?” She closed
the already small space between them, and her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “I couldn’t bear thinking you and he were having a laugh at my expense.”

Andrew had a feeling she could bring tears into the blue eyes at a moment’s notice. He patted the hand on his arm reassuringly. “Of course not,” he said.

The moment he had closed the door behind her he headed back to his desk and began opening drawers and shuffling papers, looking for his sketches of the woman who had gone to visit Stedwell before his escape.

Cally saw the beautiful woman leave Haywood’s office and turned quickly into a side street, changing her plans as she went. The Gwynns had finished their dinner earlier than usual, and she had had some harebrained thought of paying the sheriff a quick visit on her way to his house to do her chores. Now she couldn’t remember why she had wanted to do such a stupid thing.

She was glad the woman’s presence had stopped her. She might have walked into Haywood’s office and apologized for the things she had said last time they were together. She might have told him Pa was more to blame for her plight than he was. Haywood had found her a home, a job and a place to keep her animals, and she hadn’t even tried to act grateful.

“And I don’t want to start now,” she muttered as she walked. She touched the tight bun at the nape of her neck and wondered if it looked as ridiculous as it felt. Compared to the blond woman’s hair, it certainly did. She looked down at her gray dress and slightly smeared white apron and compared them to what the
woman had worn, as well. How horrible if she had stepped into the office, clutching her milk bucket and egg basket, and interrupted Haywood and the woman!

By the time she arrived in Haywood’s yard, she had decided not to think about him. It had worked before, if she reminded herself enough.

Royal came to greet her again, breaking the chain where she had tried to repair it that morning. With a sharp command from her, she had been able to walk away from him, but he couldn’t seem to resist running to meet her when she approached. It happened every time, morning and night.

After kneeling to give Royal a hug, she took the chain from around the dog’s neck and let him walk beside her as she did the chores. The thought came to her that she might have told Haywood about the broken chain, too, if she had actually gone to the office. Another reason to be grateful to the beautiful woman.

“The old ladies like my cooking,” she told Royal. “I heard them talking after dinner. Of course, they wouldn’t say so to me. They want to throw a dinner party to show off their new cook.” She slipped the two dogs each a bone she had smuggled from the Gwynns’ kitchen. The sisters would probably have been more than happy to have the bones fed to the dogs as long as the dogs weren’t on their property. But Cally didn’t want to ask and then be grateful. This way the gift to the dogs was from her.

“They said I need some more instruction first,” she confided with a sigh, “so tomorrow will be another miserable day.” That might have been another reason she wanted to see Haywood. He was at least straight-forward.
The Gwynns talked in circles and gave each other knowing nods. They thought she was stupid.

But then Haywood knew she was stupid. Even the Gwynns didn’t know she couldn’t read.

“But I won’t feel sorry for myself,” she muttered as she entered the chicken pen. The hens flocked from the new pen into the little house, and she raised the ramp, hooking it in place to shut them in. Haywood had worked on the pen the past two evenings, she supposed, and had turned the hens into it this morning.

Some things weren’t too bad, she reminded herself as she milked Belle. The bed was comfy and the kitchen was so big it was almost a pleasure to cook. And there was always lots of food. She didn’t think they even knew how much food they had.

“I wonder if my squash are ready,” she whispered as she fed Jewel. “Shall we ride out and see come a moonlit night?” Cally was smiling when she left the barn, Royal at her side.

Haywood, standing at the tree, the broken chain in a pile at his feet, wasn’t.

“We’re in trouble now, Royal,” she murmured, setting the bucket of milk in the shade of the house next to the basket of eggs. She walked toward the sheriff, Royal trotting innocently at her side. She was reminded of the evenings she had walked toward his office, building up her courage for another try at breaking Pa out of jail. She felt defenseless now for more reason than just the absence of a concealed weapon.

He pushed away from the tree and came to meet her. He was looking at her dress. She wanted to defend
her decision not to change her clothes twice. The sisters would probably throw a fit if they knew she hadn’t burned the pants. She didn’t want them to catch her in them.

She chose not to say anything. It was probably silly to think Haywood cared what she wore. At the same time, she couldn’t help thinking of the beautiful woman’s elegant gown and imagine him making comparisons.

“How are you, Cally?” he asked softly.

The tone and the question both took her by surprise. She merely nodded.

“You look good, I mean…like you’re doing all right.”

Cally cringed. “I look silly.” She spread the dress out and leaned over slightly to look down at it, exposing the toes of her oversize work shoes. She looked up in time to see him grin. Shoot. She had meant to keep quiet.

For some reason, the grin faded as he continued to look at her. “Do you have everything you need? Is there anything…?” The question trailed off as she shook her head. He seemed uncomfortable for a moment, then said, “I’ll see what I can do about Royal’s chain.”

He went into the barn for tools, and Cally knew it was her chance to leave. She was still thinking about a hasty escape when Andrew emerged.
I waited because Royal would have followed me.
She decided it sounded too stupid to say aloud. Instead she stood and watched him.

The end of the chain was securely fastened around the tree in a few minutes. Haywood called Royal, who
eagerly ran to him. That was when Cally surprised herself by mumbling, “I don’t really blame you.”

Haywood looked up at her. “Excuse me?”

Now she had done it. She would have to say it aloud. Or at least say something. “It seems a shame to—chain him up, I mean.”

He grinned at her. She felt the blood rush to her face. He had heard her fine the first time! She spun on her heel and nearly ran to the house, scooping up the bucket and basket so fast she spilled milk on her shoes. She heard Royal bark but didn’t want to turn, even to say goodbye.

Haywood’s voice, talking to the dog, relieved her fears of being followed. The relief turned to anger as she stomped down the street. He was laughing at her. Laughing at what she had said, how she said it and probably everything else about her. She didn’t want him to think she was silly. Or stupid. She wasn’t sure what she wanted where Sheriff Haywood was concerned.

Andrew watched her storm away feeling inordinately pleased. She didn’t blame him for all her troubles after all, though she hated to admit it. He knew he shouldn’t have grinned the way he had. And now he should be sorry that he had upset her. Somehow the fact that a mere grin from him could make her angry meant that she cared what he thought. He didn’t examine this idea very closely.

He had other things on his mind. Like the wisp of bright hair that blew across her face, and the blushing cheeks sprinkled with freckles. The simple gray dress made her look delicate in a way the baggy pants never
could. He was in the house sketching her picture before he stopped to think about the implications of any of these thoughts.

By morning he had thought about them, though. His edge as a lawman was in serious danger because of an innocent young woman. Thinking of her as a child hadn’t saved him. Finding her work and decent living conditions hadn’t ended his worry about her welfare. Meeting a much more elegant woman hadn’t shaken his preoccupation.

Sketches of Cally were scattered across his floor. He hadn’t acted like this since he was an adolescent. He frowned down at the mess. He hadn’t acted like this
when
he was an adolescent.

Picking up a random sketch, he tried to eye it critically. A smile slowly formed on his lips. She looked furious. She was about to quit his yard because he had caught her trying to take back a painful admission. He realized with a start that he was grinning down at the picture in the same way he had grinned at her last night.

He let the sheet flutter to the floor with the rest and shook his head. He couldn’t look at her critically, not even his own pictures of her. He simply couldn’t think about her reasonably. And he didn’t have the first idea what to do about it.

Nothing, he decided. At least, nothing today. Surely this infatuation would wear off if he spent more time with her. He was her guardian, so to speak. He should go to visit her, encourage her to come see him. In a very short time he would get tired of her quick temper, her illogical notions, her freckled nose.

He was grinning again.

He turned away from the pictures, more than a little irritated with himself. He had other things to think about. Like Miss Francine Wells and her unusual request. He had told her he would go to the bank first thing this morning. A small inheritance, currently invested in an eastern bank, would serve as his excuse for asking questions. He would find out what she wanted to know, at least in part, and then start finding out what he wanted to know about her.

He opened his back door, grabbing his coat from its hook at the same time, and tripped over Queen. One arm partway into the coat sleeve kept him from catching himself. His shoulder hit the ground, and he rolled to his back. For the third morning in a row he stared up at the sky and counted to ten.

Queen crept toward him, nuzzled his arm and licked his face. When he didn’t speak, she stretched out beside him, head on her paws, and watched him with sad eyes.

“Cally’s going to be the death of me. One way or another, she’s going to be the death of me.”

Queen whimpered.

Stedwell and Terris waited for Milton to ride by and signal that Haywood was in the bank before they crept along the hedge toward the house Milton had told them was Haywood’s. The front door was in clear sight of his neighbors, but the backyard was virtually hidden. They paused and studied the situation for a minute. There were two dogs, one chained to a tree, the other sleeping at the back door.