Maureen McKade (3 page)

“You’re welcome, Mr. Cordell. Is good to cook for someone who appreciates it. And call me Freda. I think you are talking to Hans’s mother when you call me Mrs. Finster.” Fondness glimmered in her eyes. “Kit’s son also likes my biscuits.”

“She has a son?”

Freda nodded. “Yes, but no husband.”

The information about Kit intrigued him. “What happened to the boy’s father?”

Freda stood and began to gather the dishes, keeping her gaze averted from Jake. “About him Kit does not talk.” She left the dining room.

Puzzled by his landlady’s evasiveness, he frowned. Freda obviously liked Kit but didn’t seem to approve of her son’s father. He wondered if Kit had been married.

Jake pushed back his chair, and carried the remaining dishes into the kitchen. “Do Kit and her son live in town?”

Freda shook her head. “On a ranch, southwest of town.”

“Just her and the boy?”

“Curious you are about a woman you do not even know,” Freda said suspiciously.

Jake shrugged. “I just want to figure out how she knows me. I think I’ll go for a little ride.”

“Where is it you will go?”

“Unfinished business.”

Though puzzled, Freda didn’t pry. “Dress warm, Mr. Cordell. Cold it is this morning.”

Jake nodded in acknowledgment and grabbed his tan jacket off the coat rack in the foyer. He donned it, then slapped on his hat, pulling the brim down on his forehead. The morning was crisp, but he welcomed the fresh air.

As he strode toward the livery barn, he was hailed by a steady stream of old acquaintances. An hour later, he finally made it into the stable.

“Zeus!” Jake called out.

An answering neigh led him to a middle stall, where his horse munched contentedly on oats.

“It looks like you’ve really had a rough time of it,”
Jake remarked, running a hand fondly along Zeus’s muscled neck.

Zeus continued to crunch his grain, as if ignoring Jake.

“Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t come see you yesterday,” Jake apologized. “What do you say we go for a little ride?”

Zeus didn’t look enthused at venturing out into the dismal morning.

A few minutes later, Jake led the reluctant horse out of the stable and mounted up. Indecision made him pause a moment, then he tapped the palomino’s withers with his boot heels and Zeus jumped into a trot.

The cemetery was set on a hill overlooking the town. In the late spring and summer it was lush with green grass, but now it looked as dead as its inhabitants. Jake halted Zeus in front of the two-foot-high weathered fence surrounding the small graveyard. He dismounted and stepped over the slight barrier.

His gaze went first to his father’s tombstone, which had a light blanket of snow on it. He brushed the flakes off and placed his hand on the cold stone. He had been at this grave only one other time: nearly six years before, when he had said good-bye to his father.

Jonathan Cordell had started out as a lawman, then become a judge. He’d been away from home often, leaving young Jake with various families. Later Jake had stayed alone, becoming independent at an early age, as well as rebellious. Yet a part of Jake had never given up trying to please his father, and though he’d failed at that, he hoped bringing in Jonathan Cordell’s killer had counted for something.

He gripped the tombstone tightly as his gaze swept across the inscribed stones and crude wooden crosses. He walked around until he discovered what he sought in the far corner.

MAGGIE SUMMERFIELD

BORN
1865,
DIED
1889

WE WILL MISS HER

Jake concentrated on a bluejay’s raucous call and the answering chatter of a squirrel. The silence following their argument forced Jake to acknowledge the grief within him.

Jake stared down at the sod that covered her grave and curled his fingers into tight fists. “I hope you didn’t die alone, Maggie. If I’d have known, I’d have come back.”

He reread the words on the headstone. “I’m sorry things couldn’t have been different between us, but you were a good friend, Maggie. I hope you’re in a better place.”

Taking a deep breath, he walked back to Zeus and mounted. About to turn the palomino toward town, he noticed the trail running through the trees above the cemetery. The path led to his former home—-the ranch that should’ve been his, that he was still determined to possess. And now was as good a time as any to find out who he was up against.

He urged Zeus up the narrow trail and into the woods. The path continued for nearly a mile before the ranch came into view. He whistled low in admiration of the horses that pranced about in the corrals.

As he approached the house, a nondescript mutt raced out to greet him. Zeus shied nervously at the yapping dog and Jake kept a firm hold on the reins. He dismounted by the porch, tying Zeus to a pole. The dog sniffed Jake’s boots, then licked his hand.

Jake grinned and scratched behind the animal’s ears. “You like that, don’t you, fella?”

The dog raced back to the barn, and Jake shook his head at the animal’s antics.

He knocked on the door and it was opened almost immediately, as if by itself. Then Jake glanced down and saw the young boy who stared up at him inquisitively.

“You’re not Charlie,” the boy accused.

Jake squelched a smile. “Last time I looked, I wasn’t. My name’s Jake.” The kid’s guileless stare didn’t waver, and Jake cleared his throat. “Jake Cordell.”

The boy’s dark eyes widened. “You’re the one the books are about!”

Jake groaned. “Don’t tell me you’ve read them, too.”

“No, my ma reads them to me now, but someday I’ll be able to read them all by myself. Ma’s teaching me how. And how to spell and do ciphers. Ask me what two and three is.”

Unaccustomed to children, Jake hesitated a moment. “All right, what’s two and three?” he asked.

“Five!”

The youngster’s enthusiastic answer coaxed a suppressed grin from Jake’s lips.

“Who’s at the door, Johnny?” a woman’s voice called from within.

“It’s that man the books are about,” Johnny hollered back.

Muffled footsteps heralded the entrance of the woman, and Jake blinked in recognition. He glanced down at Kit’s trouser-clad legs and thighs. His liquor-fogged memory hadn’t imagined her inviting curves. Raising his gaze to her heart-shaped face, he smiled and tipped his hat. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She pressed her round spectacles up on her pert nose. “Mr. Cordell. You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.” Placing her hands on Johnny’s shoulders, she pulled him out of the doorway and protectively stepped in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“My father used to own this place.” He arched an
eyebrow at her apparent unease. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Now
I
own this place,” she shot back.

Johnny tugged on her arm. “Ma, that’s Jake Cordell, the man in the books.”

She glanced down at him, and her expression softened. “I know, sweetheart.”

“Please let him come in, Ma,” he pleaded.

The boy was on his side easy enough. “I just stopped by to see who was living here now. I should probably be getting back to town before I freeze.” He added a melodramatic shiver. “I can’t hardly feel my fingers and toes already.”

After a moment, reluctant resignation stole across Kit’s rose-flushed face. “Come in and warm up, Mr. Cordell. I’ve got some coffee on the stove.”

Jake’s victory seemed hollow. He knew he’d used her kindheartedness against her. With a twinge of conscience he entered the house, and memories assailed him. He forced the visions of his autocratic father from his mind, but the restlessness remained.

She closed the door behind him, and suddenly he was unsure what to say. He fiddled with his hat brim. “Do you own this place all by yourself?”

“Yes, I do.” She took the Stetson from his hands. “Give me your coat and I’ll hang it up for you.”

She accepted his jacket without comment and then turned to her son. “Johnny, could you take him to the front room? I’ll get the coffee.”

“Okay. C’mon, Mr. Cordell.”

A slight swagger accompanied the boy’s walk down the hall, and Jake hid a smile behind his hand. Inside the room, Jake glanced around at the walls, which had been covered with tan wallpaper and adorned with woven rugs and a few pictures, mostly of horses. When he and his father had lived there, little time had been taken
to decorate the interior. She, however, had given the house a woman’s touch, and warmth emanated from the home. Jake settled into a chair close to the crackling fire.

“Are you really a hero?” Johnny asked, his long-lashed eyes full of wonder.

Jake shook his head. “Nope. I just did a job that needed doing.”

Johnny settled cross-legged on a thick rug at his feet. “But you fought all kinds of bad guys and you always beat them. You must be really strong and brave to get the bad men without anyone’s help but Zeus’s.”

“I was just smarter than they were. Let me tell you a secret, kid: most bad guys aren’t very bright. If they were, they wouldn’t become outlaws, would they?”

“That’s what my ma says, but I’m not so sure. Before you caught Blackjack Banner, he played poker and won lots and lots of money. If he was dumb, he couldn’t have done that, could he?”

“That may be true, but I did catch him, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Johnny exclaimed. “I guess maybe he wasn’t so smart.”

Kit entered the room and set a tray on the oak table. “Cream or sugar, Mr. Cordell?”

“Neither,” Jake replied, noting that she had removed her spectacles. Without the glasses to detract from her features, she appeared softer and more feminine. “Are all those your horses out there?”

She handed Jake a cup and nodded. “They’re the culmination of five years’ hard work.”

“I’ve never known a woman to run a horse ranch by herself.”

“Does your horse really talk to you, like it says in the books?” Johnny piped up.

Jake turned to the inquisitive boy. “Not exactly. But you could say Zeus and I understand each other.”

Johnny stood and ran to the window. “Zeus looks cold.”

“It is getting colder out there,” Kit remarked. “Johnny can take him to the barn, if you’d like.”

“He’s a pretty big horse. I doubt your son could handle him,” Jake warned.

A faint smile brushed her generous lips. “Johnny can handle horses better than most grown men.”

Jake thought for a moment, debating whether to allow the youngster near Zeus. The boy’s expectant face balanced the scales in his favor. “All right, Johnny. I suspect you and him will get along just fine.”

“Thanks, Mr. Cordell.” Johnny ran for the door.

“Don’t forget your gloves,” Kit called after him.

“I won’t.” Johnny pulled on his outer clothing, then disappeared out the door.

Jake stood and crossed the floor to the window. The hound ran over to greet the boy, startling Zeus. Johnny spoke to the mutt and the animal moved away to lie on the ground, but his soulful brown eyes followed the boy’s movements. Slowly approaching Zeus with an outstretched hand, Johnny talked to the horse. The youngster reached out and touched the palomino’s nose, then he untied the reins from the post and led him to the barn.

Jake turned back to Kit. “He does have the touch, doesn’t he?”

Pride shimmered in her eyes. “Yes, he does.”

Jake returned to his chair and Kit refilled his coffee cup.

“Would you be interested in selling?” Jake asked, without preamble.

She blinked. “The ranch?”

“Well, I don’t have much need for a kid.” Jake smiled to temper his words. “I’d like to buy back my father’s ranch and do what he planned to do.”

The color seemed to leach from her face as she shook her head. “This is our home now. I could never sell it.”

He’d suspected that would be her answer. “I’ll give you twice what you paid for it.”

Kit set her coffee cup on the end table and clasped her hands together, but not before Jake noticed their trembling. “It’s not for sale at any price.”

Jake leaned forward in his chair, intending to intimidate her by his actions as well as his tone. “It can’t be easy for you, raising a son all by yourself. Think how nice it would be to live in town and have Johnny walk to school. You’d have neighbors to help you out. And you’d make enough from selling the place that you wouldn’t have to find a job.”

Fire sparked in her eyes, and she sat up straighter. “I’ve built this ranch up from nothing. I bought the bloodlines to breed the best saddle horses possible, and I’ve done it without any man telling me what to do. I think I’ve done a damn fine job of it, too.”

Startled by her outburst, Jake leaned back. He had underestimated her. “I apologize if I insulted you. It’s just that I’ve never before met a woman who preferred ranching to an easier life in town.”

“You’ve met one now.” Quiet steel ran through her words.

Admiration for her independence rose unexpectedly in Jake, but he tamped down the emotion. If he couldn’t buy the place, he’d have to find some other way to get it. Legally. It appeared his law degree would come in handy, after all. Changing his tactics, he relaxed and smiled. “Can I ask how you ended up out here?”

Kit glanced down and her shoulders untensed. “My father left me the newspaper office when he died. I sold it and used the money for a down payment on this place.”

Jake stared at Kit, thinking back and remembering. “Your father owned the
Courier
?”

She nodded.

Amazed disbelief rocked Jake. “You’re little Kit Thornton?”

“That’s right, although I don’t think I was ever little.” Defensiveness crept into her voice.

Jake studied her, trying to reconcile the memory of the chubby girl with the crooked spectacles that kept slipping down her nose and the slender composed woman sitting in front of him. “You’ve changed.”

Kit laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. “Thank you.”

Jake felt his face redden, a reaction he hadn’t experienced in years. “You’re grown up and you’ve gotten—” he searched for the right word, “—taller.”

“You’d best be careful, or you’ll swallow your boot.”