Kid Calhoun (10 page)

Anabeth had the same piercing blue eyes and coal black hair as her uncle. The same sharp nose and wide, high cheekbones. The same strong, stubborn
chin. Only all these features were softened in the girl. Though she was nearly as tall as Booth’s six-foot height, where he had been lean and hard, she was lithe and supple.

“I suppose everyone was looking for a boy, so that’s what they saw,” Sierra murmured.

“Can you help me become a woman?” Anabeth asked.

“I can put you in a dress, but there’s more to being a woman than wearing a skirt.”

“I can learn!” Anabeth said.

“Are you willing to give up smoking? Drinking? Swearing? Playing cards?”

Anabeth eyed her from beneath lowered lashes. “Is that really necessary?”

Sierra shook her head at Anabeth’s naïveté. “It is if you want to pass for a lady. If you’d rather work downstairs—”

“No!” Anabeth realized how that must have sounded to Sierra. She softened her voice and said, “No, I’d rather do some other kind of woman’s work.”

A furrow appeared on Sierra’s brow. She tapped her chin with a gracefully curved fingernail. “Can you sew?”

“Not well.”

“Cook?”

“Not much.”

“Take care of children?”

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about what to do with one.”

Sierra grimaced. “What
can
you do?”

“I’m wonderful with horses.”

“I hardly think you can remain anonymous if you put on a dress and go to work at the livery,” Sierra said. “I’ve got it! Anyone can make a bed and sweep a floor. I know just the place where you can hide. Eulalie
Schmidt’s boardinghouse. Eulalie might even have an extra bedroom you can use. She won’t be suspicious, either, since I’ve sent girls to her before that I didn’t think were right for the work here.”

Sierra walked in a circle around Anabeth. “There’s a lot of work to be done.”

Anabeth flushed. “I know I’m not much to look at—”

“Actually, your looks may be a problem,” Sierra said. “You’ve got wonderful bones in your face. Put you in a dress and you’re liable to be a little too pretty. No, we’re going to have to make you look like less than you are. Let me think about it for a while.”

“I guess I’d better leave so you can get some sleep,” Anabeth said. “I’ll be back early tomorrow.”

“Where will you stay tonight?” Sierra asked.

“I’ll find a place.”

“Why not sleep here?”

“Here?” Anabeth looked around at the feminine room. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Wat Rankin’s sure to come here sooner or later looking for me. Or you.”

“No one comes into my room who isn’t invited,” Sierra said in a hard voice.

“I only meant Rankin might think you know where the gold is or where I am,” Anabeth said. “Nothing else.”

“Except for Booth, I haven’t had a man—” Sierra’s voice broke.

Anabeth stood across from the other woman, feeling helpless to ease her pain. “You must have loved him very much,” she murmured.

“It wasn’t love,” Sierra denied. “I know better than to fall in love with any man. He’ll only break your heart. That’s your first lesson as a woman, Anabeth. Learn it well.”

* * *

Jake felt hot, dusty, and disgusted as he rode down Canyon Road in Santa Fe. Shortly after he had picked up the tracks of what he hoped was the outlaw gang, they had split up and gone in eight different directions. Since he was headed for Santa Fe himself, he had followed the set of tracks that led directly here.

And lost them just outside of town.

He turned down a side street and headed for a two-story white frame building. A small wooden sign with painted letters hanging from the porch rail in front said simply “Eulalie Schmidt.”

Jake knocked on the door to the boardinghouse but didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed his way inside. “Eulalie? Eulalie Schmidt!”

The effusive greeting Jake got from the white-haired woman who came running when he called left no doubt that the two knew each other. Frau Schmidt was a woman who enjoyed her sauerkraut and dumplings. Jake had discovered she had a heart as big as she was. The Widow Schmidt wore her hair pulled back in a bun at her nape, exposing the myriad lines on her forehead, the crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes, and the trellis of lines over her lips that attested to a lifetime of trial and tribulation.

“Good to see you again, Jake. It’s been, what, two years?”

“Nearly three.”

“Been that long since your nephew was killed by them savages, eh?” Eulalie said.

Jake nodded. He had been feeling pretty low the first time he had come to Eulalie Schmidt’s boarding-house. He had gotten drunk and spilled his guts. Eulalie had dispensed advice with hot coffee, and the two of them had been friends ever since.

“Come on in and make yourself to home,” Eulalie said. “How long are you staying?”

“That depends on how long it takes me to find what I’m looking for,” Jake said.

Eulalie led Jake into the kitchen. When they got there a tall woman was standing with her back to them at the sink peeling potatoes. “This is my new hired girl, Anabeth,” Eulalie said. “Anabeth, say hello to Jake Kearney.”

Anabeth choked on a mouthful of smoke. She quickly doused her cigarette in the bowl of water she had on hand for the peeled potatoes.

Jake had a glimpse of eyes hidden by bottle-thick lenses and blue-black hair scraped back so tight it must have hurt. The girl swiveled her head and murmured, “Hello.” Just as quickly, she turned back to her chore. From the rear, her blousy shirtwaist and full skirt made her appear totally shapeless. He dismissed her as quickly as she had greeted him.

“Girl’s a bit shy,” Eulalie said, “but a hard worker. Pour Jake some coffee, Anabeth.”

Jake sat down at the table and watched as Eulalie went to cut some Streusel for him. His eyes skipped to the girl when she yelped sharply. He thought he heard some other words that no young lady ought to know, but he wasn’t sure.

“Are you all right?” he asked the girl.

“Just burned my hand on the coffeepot,” she muttered.

Anabeth adjusted the spectacles downward so she could see over them to pick up the pot with a hot pad. She reached with her other hand and grabbed a coffee mug from the nearby hooks. Then she shoved the heavy lenses up again with a knuckle to resume her disguise. She crossed to the small wooden table, but the thick glass distorted her vision and she ended up running into the sharp edge of it with her hip.

“Damnation!” she muttered.

Jake frowned, thinking he couldn’t have heard
what he’d just heard. He raised his hands to steady the girl, who had lost her balance. To his surprise, the waist beneath the bulky cloth was firm—and slim. “Are you all right?”

Anabeth’s wits scattered completely when Jake grasped her waist. “I’m fine,” she muttered. She set down the mug, but again mistook the distance because the thick glass blinded her. It slammed hard against the table. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Jake exchanged a look with Eulalie as though to say, “Is she always this clumsy?”

He realized a moment later he should have been keeping an eye on the girl, because she had reached the top of the mug and was still pouring coffee.

“Hold on! That’s plenty!”

Anabeth jerked when the man shouted at her, and a splash of coffee from the pot caught him on the cheek.

“Hell and the devil!” Jake swore. He swiped at his cheek, but the hot liquid had already done its damage.

“I’m so sorry!” Anabeth tried to set the pot on the table but missed. It fell off the edge and clattered to the floor, spilling coffee across the varnished surface. “Son of a bitch!” Anabeth said. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but the words were already out.

Anabeth stared through the thick lenses at the irate face of the man at the table. She wished she could see him better. She had a feeling it was lucky she couldn’t. “I’ll get a cool cloth for your face.” She turned back toward the pump but slipped on the spilled coffee. Her arms flailed, and she caught Jake with an elbow in the jaw as she fell backward into his lap.

She sat there holding her breath, waiting to see if the chaos had run its course.

Jake was aware of the weight of the young woman’s
breasts on his forearm. Of the slight shifting of her fanny on his thighs. Of the honeysuckle smell of her hair. He was also aware of the throbbing burn on his cheek and the ache in his jaw. If he didn’t know for a fact that she was a walking disaster, he might have found himself aroused by the young woman in his arms.

“Are you all right?” he asked for perhaps the third or fourth time. He had lost count.

“I’m fine,” Anabeth said through gritted teeth. She tried to stand, but Jake was holding her fast.

“Maybe you’d better stay where you are for a moment until Eulalie can take care of that puddle on the floor.”

“Jake’s right,” Eulalie said. She had been flabbergasted by the chain of events that had resulted in the pool of coffee on the kitchen floor. Perhaps it would be best if she took care of matters before Jake let Anabeth go at it again.

At first Anabeth sat absolutely still in Jake’s lap. But she got impatient when Eulalie went to hunt for the mop. Anabeth wiggled her fanny a bit to get more comfortable. Then Eulalie decided to wash out the coffeepot and start a new brew. Anabeth sat up straighter, couldn’t get comfortable, and slumped back down over Jake’s arm again. Finally, Eulalie decided to wipe up the coffee Anabeth had spilled on the table as well.

When Eulalie finally gave the okay, Jake quickly stood Anabeth on her feet and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. All that shifting had left him needing a woman. He felt like a tomcat in an alley with a she-cat sitting on the fence out of reach. How could that clumsy, shapeless woman have turned him into a rutting beast? “You’re a menace, woman!” he snarled.

Anabeth opened her mouth to make a retort and
snapped it shut again. She was supposed to be mousy, docile, Anabeth Smith. She had better act the part. Anabeth turned to face Jake Kearney, knuckled her spectacles up her nose, straightened her apron, and said, “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Kearney.”

Jake laughed. He couldn’t help it. He was grinning when he said, “It was … an experience … meeting you, too, Miss …”

“Smith,” Anabeth supplied. She glared daggers at Jake, but the effect was lost through the bottle glass perched on her nose.

“Miss Smith.” And may we never meet again!

“Would you go upstairs and check the northeast corner bedroom for me, Anabeth? I’d like to make sure it’s made up for Jake.”

“Certainly, Frau Schmidt.”

When Anabeth was gone—she ran into the door-jamb with her shoulder on the way out of the room—Jake turned to Eulalie and raised a brow. “Are you sure the room will still be there when she’s done?”

Eulalie clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Sierra sent her over from the saloon. Said she wasn’t suited for work there.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Perish the thought. How long has she been working for you?”

“A couple of days. She’s still learning.”

“Not fast enough!” Jake muttered.

Eulalie poured Jake another cup of coffee, served his Streusel, and joined him at the kitchen table. “Now, tell me what I can do for you.”

Jake filled Eulalie in on everything that had happened to bring him north from Texas. He was in the middle of his explanation when Anabeth came back.

“Everything’s fine upstairs,” she said. “I’ll just finish those potatoes.” She crossed to the counter by the pump, picked up the paring knife, and began working with her back to Jake.

Jake purposefully ignored her. “I’ve got some evidence that the Calhoun Gang is responsible for the robbery that killed Sam,” he told Eulalie.

“And you’ve been sent to bring them in?”

“I’m not here officially on behalf of the Rangers,” Jake said. “But I intend to bring whoever is responsible for Sam’s death to justice.”

“Rangers?” Anabeth could have bitten her tongue. Jake looked annoyed at the interruption.

“Jake’s a Texas Ranger,” Eulalie explained.

Good grief
, Anabeth thought. She had been sitting in the lap of the law! “Why aren’t you wearing a badge?”

“I am.” Jake pulled his vest aside and exposed the star.

Anabeth squinted through the bottled glass. “Oh, I see it now. Did I hear you say you’re going after the Calhoun Gang?”

“I suspect that the Calhoun Gang murdered my brother-in-law, Sam Chandler, during their latest holdup. If my sister Claire doesn’t get back the gold they stole from Sam, she’s going to lose her ranch.”

Anabeth felt an awful surge of guilt. “Oh.” She wasn’t likely to forget the man who had died in her arms. It made her feel even worse to meet someone who had cared about him and to hear the consequences of their larceny. Not once while riding with Booth had she allowed herself to think about what happened to the people they robbed. Jake was giving her an eye-opening education she would rather not have had.

“Jake followed what he thinks might be one of the gang members here to Santa Fe,” Eulalie explained.

“Oh,” Anabeth said again. Had he followed her here? Or was some other member of the gang in town? Either way, she must be on her guard.

“I was told Booth Calhoun has a woman here in
Santa Fe,” Jake said. “I thought maybe she could give me a lead where I might search for the gang. Also,” Jake paused and pulled the
WANTED
poster from his pocket, “I’ve got a drawing of one of the members of the gang. He was identified by the shotgun rider on the stage.”

Anabeth turned and stood with potato and peeler in hand to watch as Jake unfolded the drawing for Eulalie. She pulled the lenses down her nose so she could see over them. It was a good likeness of her. The mouth was a little too wide, and the eyes too close together, but that was definitely a picture of Kid Calhoun.

Anabeth felt a shiver of fear run down her spine when she saw that a thousand-dollar reward was being offered for her capture—
dead or alive
! For that amount of money there would be a lot of people willing to hunt her down. And damned few of them would worry about bringing her back alive.