Devils on Horseback: Zeke, Book 3 (8 page)

* * * * *

Lee sipped the delicious coffee Margaret had made and gazed out at the early morning streets of Tanger. The restaurant had no patrons yet. It was his favorite time of day, when he could simply be at peace. Or at least the closest he could come to it anyway.

As he brought the mug to his mouth, he heard whistling from outside, a familiar sound he hadn’t heard in quite some time. Zeke must’ve had a good night with his prisoner, whoever he was. Lee half-expected his brother to be in a lousy mood.

“Of course it’s not too early, come on in, Richard.” Zeke’s voice boomed loud and clear, and to Lee’s disappointment, slurred.

“Goddammit.” He stood, intent on kicking Zeke’s ass six ways to Sunday for drinking after three months of staying sober.

Zeke came in with a stranger behind him. The man walked with a cane and a limp. By the look on his face, he wanted to be anywhere but there. When his gaze met Lee’s, he looked apologetic. Lee decided he liked this man already.

“Lee! There you are. This here is my friend Richard A-a-and— What was your name again? Oh, never mind.” Zeke laughed.

“You’re drunk, you idiot,” Lee snarled.

“Now, Lee, remember your manners. Say hello to Richard.” Zeke nearly lost his balance, stumbling into the stair banister.

Lee couldn’t help but be angry with his big brother. They’d both worked so damn hard to keep him away from the booze. “What the hell happened? Did you fall into a whiskey barrel or did that bitch Lucy give you some?”

“Hey now, don’t talk bad about Lucy. She didn’t do nothing.” He finally focused on Lee’s face. “I’m sorry, Lee, I just couldn’t help it.” Naked agony shone deep in his brown gaze.

Lee’s anger deflated a bit. “Let’s get your ass upstairs so you can sleep it off.” He turned to the stranger. “I’m sorry about this.”

Richard held up one hand. “It’s fine, Mr. Blackwood. There’s no need for you to apologize.”

The brothers Blackwood stumbled up the stairs leaning on each other as Lee struggled to get Zeke to his room. When he sobered up, Zeke was going to have questions to answer. When they made it to the bed, Zeke was laughing so hard, he fell face first into the mattress.

“What the hell were you thinking? It’s been almost three months.” Lee rolled Zeke over, shocked to see tears in his brother’s eyes.

Zeke pressed his fist to his chest. “I just wanted to dull the pain and get hold of myself again. It’s still just so damn hard.”

Lee had no idea what he was talking about, but he was disheartened to realize Zeke was still struggling to control the urge to drink.

“Sleep it off.” Lee pulled off Zeke’s boots and put a blanket over him before he left the room. He wished he knew how to cure his brother, anything to stop the hell he lived through every day.

Richard was downstairs nursing a mug of coffee, looking very much at home in the restaurant. At that moment, Lee knew two things about the man. He’d been a soldier, and he wouldn’t shy away from talking about it.

Most days, the Devils avoided the topic of the war with Lee, guessing the idea of dredging up how he’d lost his arm would be painful. They were wrong. Each day he wished he could talk about it with someone. Perhaps this stranger would be that person.

“Hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to some coffee.”

“No, you’re welcome to it. Margaret went to get eggs from the mercantile so she ain’t around to serve you.” Lee gestured to the table. “Can I join you?”

“Of course, please do.” Richard managed a small smile. “Your brother told me about you.”

Lee’s automatic defenses slammed into place. “With or without being drunk?”

Richard’s eyebrows went up. “Without actually. He told me you were the bravest man he knew.”

Lee let that sink in before he felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Zeke is a bit biased. I think anyone who fought for what they believe in is brave.”

Richard nodded. “And I believe I’ll have some more of this coffee. Perhaps when Margaret gets back, eggs to go with it, and if you’re free, some conversation too.”

Lee smiled, and to his surprise, it was genuine. “I’d be happy to.” Just like that, he’d finally found a friend.

Chapter Five

When Zeke woke in the afternoon, the familiar taste of pity and misery coated his tongue. He rolled over and tried to sit up, but his head roared in protest, followed quickly by his stomach.

What the hell had he done? He gave up three months of no liquor in a single instant, and over a woman. Jesus, he could also lose the new job as sheriff because of it. Hettie had been quite clear about the council’s expectations, and they sure didn’t include getting drunk in the morning less than a week after becoming sheriff.

God, he was a complete idiot.

If he were lucky, nobody saw him. He had a sudden flash of Richard Newman and Lee. So he wasn’t safe yet, since obviously at least two people saw him.

Zeke pressed his hands to his forehead and sucked in a deep, calming breath.

“What you ought to be doing is praying to God you don’t get fired.” Lee’s voice permeated the silence of the room.

“It ain’t gonna help.” Zeke rolled to his side and sat up, opening one eye to look at his brother. “I’m likely already fired.”

“Me and Richard talked for a couple hours. He ain’t gonna tell anyone. I sure as hell ain’t.” Lee scowled. “But you’re gonna tell me what the hell you were doing drinking at six in the morning.”

Zeke let loose a rusty snort. “I lost control, Lee. I was doing fine until sh— Well, I was getting by until this week.”

“Who is she?”

The question hit Zeke square between the eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liar.

“You can tell yourself anything you want, but don’t you dare lie to me.” Lee shook his head. “Whoever it is, you’d best leave her be and concentrate on being a sheriff. If you want this job that bad, you’d better.”

With that, Lee left Zeke to his misery. He didn’t blame his younger brother for being disappointed or angry. Hell, he was mad at himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

With a groan, he rose to his feet and readied himself for a new day as sheriff of Tanger, praying Lee was right and no one had seen him acting like the town drunk.

* * * * *

Zeke could hardly concentrate for days after the encounter with Naomi. For God’s sake, he was even dreaming about her. Lee was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind while Gideon watched with his too-knowing gaze. Zeke still couldn’t shake the itch that had settled on his entire body no matter what he did.

Perhaps he hadn’t tried hard enough to stop thinking about her. Nothing like diving into his job with a bit more effort to keep his mind off a certain blonde. Jesus, he certainly hadn’t meant to get involved with her, or any woman for that matter. It was the last thing he wanted or could handle.

As he did his normal morning walk through the streets of Tanger, folks nodded and said howdy to him. No one seemed to know what he’d done or what he’d wanted to do again and again ever since. Lucy likely suspected, but she hadn’t said anything. He wondered what she had said to Naomi about the saloon fight, but he didn’t want to ask.

It wasn’t his business after all.
She
wasn’t his business.

The door to the hotel stood open, stopping Zeke in his tracks and his mental meanderings. According to Lucy, the hotel had closed two years earlier when the owner picked up and left town, completely bankrupt.

His hand landed on the pistol riding his thigh as he stepped through the door. Sunlight brightened the lobby, highlighting the dust coating every surface and floating in the air like a storm of miniature creatures. He waved his hand, scattering them aside.

The sound of his boot heels echoed through the empty lobby. Someone had walked through recently, leaving impressions on the floor. Definitely not boots, but men’s shoes for certain. Too big to be female in origin. Zeke slowed down to a snail’s pace, keeping his ear cocked for any noise aside from his own.

He controlled his breathing, which kept his heart rate at a steady tattoo. When someone cleared their throat in the office behind the front desk, Zeke crouched down, gun solid in his hand. A sniff and a shuffle followed, making him believe whoever was back there wasn’t worried about being stealthy.

He walked on his toes, keeping the heavy heels off the wood floor. As he approached, the reality of the situation hit him square between the eyes. This was the first time he felt like the sheriff, excluding the drunks and idiots he’d dealt with. Certainly his night with Naomi didn’t count considering the end result.

The taste of excitement coated his tongue and his stomach tingled with anticipation. He hadn’t felt much about anything for quite some time, which told him Gideon had been right, this was the right job for him.

Zeke crept around the front desk, the unfinished wood offering a splinter or two to his hands. He didn’t expect the intruder to come waltzing out of the office as if he owned the place, but that’s exactly what the man did. Rising from his crouch, Zeke pointed both pistols at the man’s heart and widened his stance.

“Mister, you’d better have a good reason for breaking in.”

The stranger was perhaps a few years older than Zeke, with thick brown hair and a matching mustache. He was thin, but not overly so, with a suit made of some fine material. The gold chain from a pocket watch hung straight down from the green vest beneath the brown suit jacket.

“I could say the same thing to you.” He shook a sheaf of papers at Zeke. “You’re trespassing.”

Zeke narrowed his gaze. “So are you.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not sure why you think you have the right to enter my property without permission, but if you don’t leave immediately I will find whatever or whoever passes for the law in this town and have you arrested.” The crisp syllables, the nasally whine and the authoritative attitude told Zeke much more than he wanted to know. The man was a Yankee.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the tingles in his stomach turned to lumps of hot ash. It hadn’t ever left, that urge to do battle with his enemy, even if the war were over. Zeke holstered the guns before he shot the son of a bitch.

“I am the law.” The words dropped from his mouth like sharp icicles. “If you own this place, I expect to see proof.”

“Where is
your
proof you’re the law?” The stranger glanced at Zeke’s clothes as if they were shit on his shoes. “You certainly don’t look like it.”

“Out here in the west, ain’t no call for fancy duds or manners. I’m the sheriff of Tanger whether or not you believe me.” He pointed to the star on his shirt. “This here’s your clue.”

“That could have been taken from anywhere. What does it prove?” The stranger had the balls to cross his arms and tap his foot.

That just set Zeke off like someone had lit a fire under him. The man had the audacity to question his authority, insult him and the star on his chest. No goddamn way he’d accept that.

“It proves I can throw your scrawny ass in jail.” He took the man by the arm, surprised to feel solid muscle beneath the fabric of his jacket. “For trespassing.”

No matter how much the stranger blustered and went on and on about what a big mistake Zeke was making, they kept marching towards the jail. Fortunately, Mike had finally gotten the hinge pins in to complete the jail cell the day before so he could put the pompous fool behind bars. The thought gave him a certain grim satisfaction.

“Whatcha got there, Zeke?” Jake leaned against the side of the shit shack, his hat tipped back and an expression of unabashed curiosity on his freckled face.

“A trespasser in the hotel.”

“I am
not
a trespasser. My name is Byron Ackerman and I own the establishment.” He tried once again to yank his arm free, unsuccessfully of course. Zeke had the muscles and build of a man used to working hard labor from sunup to sundown. “Ask Mr. Marchison at the store. He was kind enough to sell me some supplies this morning.”

“Wait, did you say Ackerman?” Jake straightened and looked apologetically at Zeke. “Gabby told me somebody had bought the hotel. I meant to tell you last week but she distracted me and then… Oh hell, I don’t know. I guess I forgot.”

“You see. Whoever this man is, he understands reason and listens when other people speak.” Ackerman stumbled when Zeke let him go, almost falling on his perfectly groomed head.

“Thanks a lot, Jake. You’re supposed to give me the information from the town council right away, not a week after your dick takes over your brain.” He wasn’t angry with his friend, but annoyed that he couldn’t lock up the fancy-pants Yankee.

“Sorry, I just forgot.” Jake wiped his hand on his flour-coated pants and held it out to the fussing Mr. Ackerman. “Jacob Sheridan, pleased to meet you.”

The stranger looked at Jake’s hand, a second too long in Zeke’s opinion, before he shook it. “The pleasure is mine, ah, Mr. Sheridan.” He glanced down at the flour residue on his hand before pulling out a handkerchief to wipe it off with methodical thoroughness.

“Mr. Sheridan here is the mayor’s husband and a town council member.” Zeke couldn’t help but feel vindicated when shock flashed across the stranger’s face.

No matter how much the Yankee bothered him personally, Zeke wasn’t mistaken about Ackerman. As he smiled, his expression turned much friendlier. What lurked behind his blue eyes remained carefully blank.

“A female mayor? I heard Tanger was different and I’m pleased to see that’s true. I’d love to meet Mrs. Sheridan soon.” Ackerman turned a cold gaze onto Zeke. “Sheriff, I’ll be returning to my hotel now, provided I have your permission.”

Zeke’s expression was as deadly as the gun beneath his itchy palm. “By all means. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Hello gentlemen.” Naomi’s voice was not only unexpected, it made Zeke’s entire body clench.

Good thing he could control himself, because she wore the same pretty yellow dress again, looking fresh faced and absolutely beautiful. His first impulse was to grab her and kiss her, the second was to yank her out of Ackerman’s line of sight. What he should really do is turn and walk away. He needed to keep away from her.

The Yankee looked like a hungry wolf spotting a juicy sheep. He slicked back his hair with his left hand and straightened his lapels.

“Good morning, madam.” He bowed slightly. “My name is Byron Ackerman. I’m new to town and pleased to meet you.”

Naomi, to her credit, didn’t stammer or blush. She stared at the man, her lips compressed tightly.

“Good day, sir.” Her only response.

“And you are?” He held out his hand, yet Naomi didn’t take it.

“None of your damn business, Ackerman.”

Her hazel eyes widened at Zeke’s snarl. “My name is Miss Naomi Tucker. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ackerman.”

Zeke stared hard at her, his blood rushing through him. “Are you getting pleasure meeting this Yankee?”

“Shut your mouth, Sheriff. You’re being contrary and rude.” Her cheeks flared pink.

“I could put you back in jail faster than you can blink,
Miss Tucker
.”

“Just try it.” She pointed her chin toward him, daring him.

The argument made Zeke’s body heat and damned if he didn’t have the urge to fuck her up against the wall of the building in front of him, as well as to paddle her ass.

“Ahem, much as I’m enjoying this, I’m going to have to interrupt.” Ackerman sounded as if he really was enjoying it, stupid son of a bitch.

Naomi shot an icy glare at Zeke, then took a deep breath, pushing her delicious breasts against the yellow fabric. His teeth ground together when she finally held out her hand to Ackerman.

“I was just on my way to have breakfast at Elmer’s Restaurant if you’d care to join me.”

Zeke sucked in a breath at her brazenness. Inviting a man to eat with her? What the hell was she thinking?

Ackerman didn’t need any more encouragement. “I’d be happy to join you.”

“I’m sure Sheriff Blackwood and his friend have duties to attend to. There must be small children to scare and puppies to kick.” She tucked her arm in the man’s and turned him down the street. “What brings you to Tanger?”

Their conversation faded as the pair wandered away, leaving Zeke ready to bite nails in half. He’d obviously handled that completely wrong. Hell, he hadn’t even had a chance to talk to her since, well, since the night he arrested her, the night he’d discovered she was more potent than any whiskey. Maybe he ought to talk to Lucy first and get an idea of how things went at the saloon.

Then he could paddle Naomi’s ass.

“She’s got you all tied up in knots, doesn’t she?” Jake’s comment made Zeke start a bit. He’d forgotten his friend was standing there witnessing everything.

“What makes you say that?” Zeke snarled.

Jake, as usual, laughed. “I guess that answers my question.”

“Shut up, you fool.”

That only make Jake laugh harder. Zeke walked away, heading for the saloon, his gut churning.

Lucy glanced up from the game of solitaire as Zeke slammed into the saloon. Her dark eyebrows rose when she saw the expression on his face, and perhaps in surprise that he was in the saloon at all.

“Sheriff Blackwood. What happened to bring you into the
saloon
?”

He let the jab fly past him. “I just met the new owner of the hotel.” He sat down heavily across from her. “The man is an ass.”

“Ackerman? Yep, met him last night.” She laid a card down. “You don’t like him? He’s handsome.”

Zeke snorted, ignoring the bait Lucy flung at him. “He’s a goddamn Yankee, and a pompous windbag.”

“So you don’t like him.” Lucy shook her head. “A shame, too. Louisa said he’s very polite and mannerly.”

Zeke’s jaw tightened to the point that he heard teeth crack. “He’s already visited a whore?”

“I didn’t say he went upstairs with her, just that he’d been nice to her. There’s no call to insult Louisa.” Lucy threw a disgusted look at him. “You always expect the worst of folks.”

“They usually don’t disappoint me either.” Zeke didn’t want to fight with Lucy about what her girls did upstairs. Actually that made him think about what Naomi did or didn’t do up there, no matter what she said. He cleared his throat and shook off the image of Naomi naked with another man.