Oklahoma kiss (29 page)

      
"Well, maybe sometimes you do, but I guess that's just the female in you."

      
Blair was amazed at how much Doughtery had grown during the short time she'd been home. , Although the town was still a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the city, the street traffic reminded her of it. Children darted in and around the horses tied to the hitching posts, a steady stream of wagons —some seeming to strain at the breaking point—filed down the street, and people jostled each other on the boarded walkway without a backward glance or a hint of an apology. The change had not been for the better.

      
Stopping behind a stalled wagon, Blair shouted in order for Warren to hear her. "Can you see what the trouble is?"

      
Nudging his horse forward, he looked, then rode back to the buckboard. "Yeah, that wagon has a busted wheel. At this rate, we'll be here all day. Pull the buckboard into the livery stable and we'll see if we can't find Adam on foot."

      
Pulling back on the reins, Blair backed the team of horses up, then easily maneuvered around the stalled wagon. It was gratifying for her to know she had not forgotten how to handle a team of horses in a tight spot. Within a few minutes she had parked the buckboard inside the livery stable, and Warren was dismounting from his horse.

      
"Mr. Townsend, you are just the man I wanted to see," the hostler said excitedly, hurrying toward him. "The other night a fellow rode in on one of your horses —I know it's yours, I recognized the brand. I didn't question him about it though, cause he was wearing his guns strapped mighty low, and he looked like he was familiar with using them."

      
"There's no problem, Calvin. I loaned the horse to him. His mount is out at the ranch ..."

      
"Am I being discussed?" Adam asked, entering the livery stable. His expression brightened when he saw Blair sitting on the wagon seat.

      
The old hostler looked sharply about and his eyes widened when he saw the badge pinned to the man's vest front. "Well I'll be gal-darn, you're a deputy marshal! It's about damned time we got some law here in this town." He glanced at Blair. "Beg pardon, ma'am. I forget to watch my mouth 'round women folk at times, but I don't mean no disrespect."

      
"That's all right, Calvin, there was no harm done," Blair murmured softly.

      
Her gaze was riveted on Adam and she was mesmerized. He bore little resemblance to the gentle, compassionate, good-humored man she had come to know out at the ranch. It was almost as if that Adam no longer existed. She could hear Mexican spurs jingling as he walked slowly toward them, his catlike tread revealing inherent male power. He was graceful as a cougar, and, from all appearances, was twice as deadly. She also noticed he had acquired a double-barreled shotgun which was broken across his arm, but one quick snap and it would be ready for action —as was the man who carried it. It seemed as though he was two separate men, yet she had the most uncanny feeling that neither was complete without the other.

      
When Adam reached the buckboard, he removed the shells from the barrels, then snapped the gun shut and propped it against the wheel.

      
He extended his hand and introduced himself to the hostler. "I overheard you saying something about my riding a horse having a local brand."

      
"Yeah, and if you want to take offense . . ."

      
"No offense taken, but it gave me an idea. You are familiar with the local brands and I’m not. If you see a stranger riding a horse he shouldn't be, would you let me know? I’m in no position to speak for the local ranchers and farmers, but if a horse was recovered that had been stolen, I’m sure they would be willing to pay a few dollars reward."

      
"I’d certainly be willing to," Warren stated adamantly.

      
"I reckon I could do that," the old hostler mumbled, scratching his whiskered face.

      
Adam looked up at Blair and the sudden smile on his face deepened, crinkling about his eyes and deepening in his bronzed cheeks. He didn't move for a second; instead he surveyed her admiringly. "You look pretty today. I’m glad you rode in with Warren."

      
A tingling of excitement raced through her when he reached up, placed his hands around her waist and helped her from the wagon. She felt the strength in his hands even in gentleness, and her heart pounded faster. It seemed to her that his hands lingered around her waist just a bit longer than necessary, or was it just her imagination?

      
"How's it going, Adam? Making any progress?" Warren wanted to know.

      
Blair could have throttled Warren. Didn't the big lug realize he had interrupted them?

      
Adam reluctantly removed his hands from around her waist. "Yes, I’m pleased with the way it is going. But let me tell you about it over lunch. There is one restaurant in town that is reasonably clean and offers a decent meal — although I doubt if it would pass Tillie's inspection."

      
He placed his hand on the small of Blair's back, hoping she would not think it was too possessive of a gesture, yet he was reluctant to offer her his arm. Too many people were now aware that a deputy was in town and although there had been no trouble, many did not like his presence. An old lawman had told him years ago to keep his arms and hands free whenever he walked down a street in case he had to take cover quickly. He figured by placing his hand on her back, he could push her out of harm's way if the need arose.

      
There were curtains on the windows of the restaurant, and the red and white tablecloths were faded but clean, as were the napkins. Although the restaurant was crowded, the service was prompt and courteous.

      
Adam had told them the food was good, and they were not disappointed when the waitress brought out steaming cups of coffee, three huge bowls of beef stew, large wedges of golden brown cornbread, and a condiment plate containing relish, bread and butter pickles, and a spicy hot tomato sauce.

      
Blair felt it would be senseless to barrage Adam with a countless number of questions since she was not that familiar with what had been taking place. She sat quietly by, but listened carefully, since his news could affect her in various different ways.

      
Even though the food was delicious, Warren was more interested in hearing what Adam had to say than in eating. He got right to the point of the matter. "You said you were making progress; does that mean you have a line on who is behind most of the trouble, or does it mean you’ve been successful in establishing a marshal's office?"

      
Adam laughed at his bluntness. "Both. I've talked Vernon Hicks into renting two seldom-used freight rooms in the train depot to me for use as a jail. With it being constructed from brick, I figured it would be the strongest building in town. The blacksmith is installing bars and I’m having a sign painted." He laughed wryly. "The sign really isn't all that important, but I thought it might help to deter petty crime—the petty criminals aren't the ones I'm after anyway. And after what I saw and heard the first night I was here, I sent a wire asking for more deputies."

      
"More deputies?" Warren asked.

      
"Yes, I figure they will be needed. There's more trouble brewing here than meets the eye. Hired guns are coming in. I've counted at least five and there are probably more. When hired guns are added to a powder-keg situation like we have here, it spells more trouble than one man can handle."

      
Blair's heart pounded ferociously at the thought of so much danger involved. She was suddenly concerned for Adam's safety. Unable to sit quietly by any longer, she asked, "Adam, I realize this may sound like a stupid question. But why are the hired guns coming in? I see no reason for them being here. Even with all the homesteaders, this is not a wealthy community."

      
"I've given it a lot of thought, and the only logical solution I can come up with is that someone is taking advantage of the impending land rush as a way of obtaining land here in the Nation."

      
"How?" Blair asked, confused. "This is still Indian land, and one still has to be granted permits to settle here."

      
"That's true, but when a man's crop has been destroyed, or his cattle have been rustled or driven off, then when midnight riders come charging into that man's yard in the middle of the night, threatening to burn him out or kill his family, he's suddenly inclined to lease his land for a small price."

      
Warren drew his lips in thoughtfully. "It seems logical except for one detail. If your suspicions are true, it sounds like one man is responsible —or maybe two who are in cahoots with each other. But assuming there is only one man, wouldn't it look peculiar when his name appears on all of the papers?"

      
"Yes, but his name will not appear on any papers. If you remember, there have been quite a few murders taking place. I haven't had a chance to do a thorough investigation, but I'll wager over half of those men who were murdered recently acquired a land permit. Then when that land is opened next week, in all likelihood, the same thing will happen there, too. The thing about it is, the big ranchers are being hit hard as well; it's difficult to be suspicious of anyone in particular, so I really don't have any suspects. It's one of those ‘hurry up and wait' type situations."

      
Blair touched Adam's hand, her eyes hooded from worry. "You mentioned midnight riders . . . and the other day you spoke so strongly against the vigilantes. If there has been a vigilante grouped formed, could they be the same?"

      
"In all likelihood, yes."

      
"And Coy was defending them," she muttered fearfully.

      
Warren uttered a curse under his breath. "Knowing Coy, he's in with them up to his neck!"

      
Blair was quick to defend him. "Coy isn't like that! He's hot-headed and impetuous, but he isn't mean, and he would never be a party to driving people from their land!"

      
"Hold on a minute, Blair. You misunderstood. What I meant, he's probably gotten involved with them thinking he is helping protect the small farmer and rancher. By the time he realizes what is really going on, there is no telling what will happen. God, I hope they don't turn on him when he starts to object!"

      
Adam's features darkened. "Someone needs to talk to him before he gets into serious trouble, and I don't necessarily mean trouble with the law. I don't want to scare either one of you, but if my suspicions are true and if he is involved with them ..."

      
Warren slammed his fist against the table. "By God, I'll make the young pup listen to reason!"

      
Blair knew how Warren would talk to him. He would yell and threaten, which would make Coy balk like a stubborn mule. "No, Warren, let me speak to him. You know I can make him listen when no one else can." She looked at Adam, a silent plea in her eyes. "I may need help convincing him, though. Will you tell him what you've told us?"

      
"I sure will, where is he?"

      
Warren spoke up, it was clearly evident he was concerned. "He's suppose to be at the line shack, but I doubt if he'll be back there before dusk."

      
"Where's this line shack located?"

      
"Out at the ranch. If you left now, you should get there about the same time he does."

      
Adam started to rise. "Then I guess I had better be on my way. You'll have to give me directions."

      
"Wait a minute," Blair stopped him. "I thought we were going to talk to him together?"

      
Remembering his and Coy's last conversation, Adam replied, "We would probably be more successful."

      
"Then why don't I accompany you to the line shack? I can either spend the night there, or he can ride home with me."

      
"Is that all right with you, Warren?" Adam asked, looking at him.

      
"It's fine with me. Blair, you can take my horse and I'll pick up the supplies and drive the buck-board on home. And just remember ... I wish you the best of luck."

      
Chapter 18

      
Angry dark clouds, purple with greenish hues, rolled and boiled ominously over the nearby Arbuckle Mountains. Finger ling clouds had branched from the main body, spreading toward the valley as though they were hungry tentacles. Jagged streaks of lightning violently ripped the horizon to shreds, then vanished, and there were distant rolls of thunder, muttering among the dark ravines and canyons like the echoes of faraway battles. The wind rose with imperceptible steadiness, whipping the tree tops with ease, as though they were small saplings bending before a gentle wind.

      
Adam urged his horse alongside Blair's and yelled over the howl of the wind, "If Warren has a slicker in his saddlebags, you'd better put it on." He pointed toward a heavy metallic gray wall of rain rapidly advancing toward them. Instead of waiting for her to look for it, he leaned over and unbuckled the saddle bag. Not seeing a slicker, he handed his to her. "It's going to be dark soon; how much further is it to the line shack?"

      
Fastening the slicker around her neck, Blair turned in her saddle and looked frantically about. With darkness approaching and the driving torrential rain, it was difficult to see. She knew the storm could easily spawn tornadoes and they were in desperate need of shelter. The line shack was a sturdy log cabin, they would be safe there ... if she could find it.