Fired Up (8 page)

Luke laughed. “And you can stay on Stone land for another year, my friend.”

Red Wolf joined in the laughter, and Dare knew this was an old joke between them.

Red Wolf turned to Dare. “My people say you saved many.”

Dare thought of all he hadn't saved and wanted to protest, but held his tongue. Next time he was needed, he wanted Red Wolf to know he would help. The Kiowa traded often with the whites, so they came in contact with them regularly. Unfortunately, diseases, strange and deadly to the Indian people, would come again.

“I was glad I could help,” Dare told him. He then thought of Luke and the measles he was certain to catch. Turning his thoughts from the suffering of the Kiowa, and the image of Luke sharing in that suffering, Dare said, “Let's head home.”

Riding away as the sun lowered in the sky, Glynna came up beside Dare. She looked toward him, and he saw surprise on her face. She hadn't meant to ride so close to him. She reined her horse back to put space between them, but then Paul rode up to where Glynna had been, and the anger in his expression almost made Dare rest his hand on his six-shooter.

Dare had seen other young men with anger like this. He'd fought beside them in the war. The young ones, once they'd lived through a few brutal skirmishes, often grew a ruthless streak that would put an older man to shame.

Living with Flint Greer might count as a brutal skirmish.

Paul wasn't riding armed, and it was hard to believe a kid like him would actually kill. Then again, he'd said it himself that he should have killed his ma's no-good husbands when he'd had the chance.

“Paul,” Dare said, “I'm sorry I've upset you. But you can't let this rage you're carrying around eat at you.”

“You just keep your hands off my ma and I won't be angry anymore,” Paul seethed.

“Is that true?”

Paul furrowed his brow. “I just said it, didn't I?”

“I don't mean to say you're lying. I mean to say that I think the anger is something you're carrying around with you all the time. You've focused it on me, but it's always
there, boiling and stewing. Why don't you ride out hunting with Vince and me? It'll help you realize there are more kinds of men than the two who've been so hard on your family. Most men will protect a woman and children. You know I'd never put my hands on any of you in anger, don't you?”

Paul stared straight forward, but his jaw wasn't quite as rigid as it had been. “I reckon hunting would be fun. I did some hunting back in Arkansas.”

“With Luke in the area raising beef, hunting isn't as important, but I still like the taste of antelope now and then. You can ride out with us.”

“I'll think about it.” A look of interest pushed aside Paul's usual scowl. “But that doesn't change nuthin' about you staying away from my ma.” The scowl returned with a vengeance. Paul reined his horse aside and dropped back to ride next to Glynna as if he'd taken all of Dare's company he could stand.

It was a better talk than any they'd had before. Dare had worked beside a lot of young men during the war, and maybe that experience would come in handy now.

Even with that bit of hope, Dare could feel the kid at his back. Dare sure hoped the young'un never took to carrying a weapon.

Glynna Greer had a weapon of her own—aimed straight at the bellies of every man in Broken Wheel. Dare found out right along with the rest of the town why Glynna's children didn't want her to open a diner.

She couldn't cook worth a hoot.

His foot hit the bottom step on his way up to the board sidewalk that led to the diner just as black smoke billowed out its front door, followed by a herd of cowboys running out, coughing, and covering their mouths.

The diner had only been open a few minutes.

Well away from the building, Tug Andrews, who owned the general store, yelled, “Let us know when the smoke clears, Mrs. Greer. We'll wait.”

Glynna stepped out of her restaurant, coughing, looking awful with her scabbed-up face. It had been two weeks since the avalanche, most of that time spent with the Kiowa tribe.

Looking at her now, Dare thought she probably should've waited another week. Although her face was so sooty, it covered most of the injuries, so it didn't much matter.

Especially since, soot and scabs notwithstanding, with
her golden hair and matching golden eyes, her customers all looked at her like she was the prettiest thing they'd ever seen.

Which she sure enough was.

“I let the potatoes boil dry. I'm so sorry,” Glynna said. She folded her hands at her waist and smiled at the men. With that smile alone she gave them all a meal to tempt the most persnickety appetite. Dare doubted whether all that soot came from just burning potatoes, but then he wouldn't know. He'd never burned potatoes. He made a point of taking them off the stove before they began puffing out black smoke.

Her eyes went from the men to him, and her sweet, apologetic smile trembled a bit as if she fought tears. “I'm having trouble with the stove, I'm afraid. The top seems to have overheated.”

“Anyone could have trouble with a new stove, Mrs. Greer.” Duffy Schuster spoke from the waiting crowd. Duffy owned the only saloon in town and was a man with rough edges to spare. But right now he was acting like a Southern gentleman, at least when he wasn't spitting tobacco.

Another said, “Don't trouble yourself about it, Mrs. Greer. We'll be glad to wait.”

“Could you all please call me Glynna?”

“We could never treat you with such disrespect, ma'am.”

Dare smoothed his mustache to cover a smile. He wasn't sure who some of these men were. Most of them weren't from around here. Did that mean men had come from a distance just to eat a meal? But looking at Glynna explained everything. She was a terrible mess and still she was pretty enough to make a man's heart leap in his chest. All these
men had shown up to get a look at her, and that inclined Dare less toward smiling.

“I don't know how many of you knew my late husband, Flint, but I can't abide having his name attached to mine.” There was the softness of an Arkansas accent in her voice and a quiver of regret. She glanced over her shoulder. “My children have my first husband's name, so I will go by that. Call me Mrs. S-Sevier.”

From the way she stumbled over her name, he knew she didn't like that name, either. Two rattlesnake husbands. Mighty bad luck for such a sweet, pretty woman.

Paul stepped out from behind her, his blue eyes shining out of a blackened face. He took a second to glower at Dare, who was so used to that look it didn't even bother him. Much.

“I got the tater pot out back, Ma. The smoke's thinning. You can all come back in now and eat a meal.” He added under his breath, “Such as it is.”

The boy turned and went back inside. Through the open door, Dare saw Paul go to his sooty-faced little sister and mutter, “Ma running a diner is a poor excuse for an idea.”

Dare had noticed the children weren't encouraging to their mother in her plans. It made him mad. The poor woman could use their support. Only now he wondered . . . they might have their reasons.

Glynna smiled at her adoring customers, waved her hand to beckon them forward. “Come on back in,” she said. “I hope you'll enjoy what there is left of dinner.” She turned and went inside.

Dare was a bit slow to follow her, and he was nearly trampled in the stampede of men thundering past him.

He took one step toward the door just as someone clapped him on the back. On the side he hadn't just had stitches cut out of, so that was good. He turned to see Vince on his way to eat, it would seem.

“She finally got it opened, huh?” Vince had helped out by providing most of the food she was cooking. He'd “found” flour and sugar and potatoes in his storage cellar. He should've hung on to the potatoes.

“Hold up!” They both turned and saw Luke riding into town. Their friend swung down and hitched his horse, then came up to meet them. “I need to talk some details about my property with Mrs. Greer.”

“Mrs.
Sevier
,” Dare said.

“What? Mrs. Sev Yay?” Luke tilted his head as if maybe his ears had failed him.

“She just told every man in town to call her Mrs. Sevier. Says she doesn't want to go by Greer—her first husband's name, the father of her children.”

“That's gonna take some gettin' used to.” Luke shook his head. “She wouldn't take nuthin' for the land and cattle. She abandoned it all. She says the land Greer stole is mine, free and clear.”

“Which is only right,” Vince, the lawyer, said as if he knew what he was talking about.

“The land, sure, and some of the cattle, but Greer stole land and cattle from other men, not just my pa. I have no claim on that. And Greer owned a stretch of land before he took to his thieving. That land belongs to Glynna. I'm not taking it.”

Luke held up a fistful of letters. “I'm writing to everyone
I can find who lost their land to Greer, telling them it's theirs for the taking. I figure these folks have a claim on a portion of the cattle raised on their land, too. I hope some of them come back. I found cash money stashed in Greer's bedroom—I'll starve before I take a penny of it.”

“He made at least some of it working your land,” Vince said.

“Don't matter. I don't want it.”

The three of them walked into the busy diner while Luke talked. They were lucky to find three seats at the end of one of four long tables.

“What stinks?” Luke pulled his hat off, his eyes wide.

Dare slugged him. “Shut up. Glynna had some trouble with the stove. Give her a chance.”

Paul came out of the kitchen carrying four plates. Each with a blackened . . . thing on it. Dare hoped he wasn't trying to serve the burnt potatoes.

He wasn't. It proved to be the roast.

The little girl named Janet poured coffee from a pot that was too heavy for her. The men helped as best they could. When Janet got to Dare, she'd lightened the pot enough that it wasn't such a chore.

Dare smiled. “Thanks, Janny.”

The girl smiled back so shyly it put a little hitch in Dare's heartbeat.

A choking sound from the other end of the table drew Dare's attention as Sledge Murphy spit his coffee back into his cup. The twisted expression on the blacksmith's face said more than words could about Glynna's coffee.

Janet shook her head and whispered to Dare, “Ma
probably shouldn't've taken up a career as a cook.” She slipped back into the kitchen as if running to hide.

Scowling, Sledge turned toward the kitchen, drew in a breath to shout something just as Glynna came out, twisting her hands together in front of her, smiling. Her face washed, her golden skin was a match for her hair and tawny eyes. But she was still bruised, pretty yet fragile.

Dare got ready to punch any man who said one word of complaint.

“Thank you so much for coming here today, gentlemen.” Glynna's voice was soft, womanly. She spoke quietly, and everyone in the room leaned forward a bit to catch every word. “I know my husband was hard on this town. You've all been hurt by him at one time or another. That you came here today to my diner . . . well, I'm honored.” Her eyes flashed golden and for a few seconds they brimmed with tears, but then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

Her hair was in a knot on top of her head, with little blond curls escaping and hanging over her temples and ears and neck. Dare knew where all those curls hung because he looked mighty close for far too long. She was a vision so beautiful, her skin and hair and eyes all of a rich golden color, delicate. That she had a few bruises and scabs on her face made her look like she'd come through a battle, weary but unbroken.

She was the bravest little thing Dare had ever seen.

“I'm afraid I'm not giving you the best meal today,” Glynna said. “It's not good enough for all you fine men who have no reason to support me after all you've suffered at my family's hands. I'll understand if you don't want to
pay. This meal can be my gift and my apology to you all. Tomorrow will be better, I promise. I'll have a better handle on my new stove by then.”

“The meal is fine, Mrs. Survey. Of course we'll pay you for it.” The choking blacksmith took another swig of his coffee and couldn't quite control a shudder.

Nods of agreement from the men of their willingness to pay made Glynna's beautiful eyes well up again. But she fought back the tears. A vision of true beauty and courage.

Her son came in with four more plates, serving everyone some substance that appeared to be lumps of coal. Dare noticed the boy roll his eyes as he dodged around his ma and plunked more food down on tables.

Glynna drew in a shaky breath, blinked at them all just as everyone with a meal went to eating. “God bless you all for coming. I'll help get your meals to you now.”

She turned and rushed back into the kitchen just as Paul slapped a plate down in front of Dare. Which made him quit staring at the spot Glynna had just vanished from, though the shape of her seemed to be burned into his mind like he had stared at the sun for too long.

Dare looked at Paul, who was glaring back at him. A jolt of annoyance almost made Dare say something to the kid. Then the smell of the roast beef distracted him.

“How long has your ma been cooking, boy?” Luke asked, poking at the beef on the plate in front of him. Luke had a woman cooking for him, so he had something to compare this meal to.

“
Cooking
is a word that has never meant the same thing to my ma that it means to others. She seems to have a
powerful fear of rawness.” Paul returned to the kitchen just as Glynna came back with two plates.

Luke was sneaky, but Dare definitely saw him take the meat and shove it into his pocket.

Vince muttered, “A perfectly good cow died for this.” He started sawing on his own meat.

That meal was a show. Every man there watched Glynna move as if he were entranced. She wasn't flaunting herself; she was just so pretty it was impossible to look away. She continued to serve them and pour more coffee. It was a roomful of ruffians. Broken Wheel, a miserable little town in Indian Territory, was a place for outcasts. Dare wanted to exclude himself and his friends from that, but he wasn't sure he should.

Among these coarse men, no one was other than polite and proper. More notable, no one said a word of complaint. In fact, their thanks were generous and delivered at length. They ate so slowly that Dare knew it couldn't be blamed on the food—which a man had to eat slowly if he wanted to retain possession of his teeth. No, they just wanted to be in Glynna's presence for as long as possible.

Finally, with the longest noon break ever taken in Broken Wheel over, the crowd thinned out.

Dare noted that the cost of two bits for the meal had been paid by everyone. Of course, each man chose his moment and then paid Glynna personally; no one just left money on the table. She graced them each with a smile and a few words, a few seconds of her time and attention. That alone was worth the money, regardless of the food's quality. She also gave them the good news that she was going to be open for breakfast and lunch starting tomorrow.

God have mercy on them all.

Glynna's pockets were heavy with coins. Her restaurant, at least on day one, was a rousing success. Dare knew good and well every one of those varmints would be back tomorrow. Twice.

He sure would be.

He might eat before he got here, but he'd come. And he'd wear a coat with big pockets. He sure hoped she didn't serve stew. Although, considering today's meal, maybe her stew would be hard enough that it wouldn't make much of a mess in his pocket.

When at long last the diner was nearly empty of patrons, Glynna came out and looked at Dare, Luke, and Vince—the last ones remaining.

“It went well, don't you think?” She apologized for the food again. “Do any of you want more coffee?”

Luke had his back to the kitchen, so Glynna couldn't see his face when he closed his eyes in what looked like pain. “No, thank you, Mrs. . . . uh, what's your new name again?”

“Sevier.”