The Law and Miss Penny (6 page)

Zack found his voice first. "How'ya doing, son? Mariah tells me you don't remember us much."

Cain slowly made his way down the stairs, swaying as he fought for control of his balance.

Zack met him halfway across the tent and offered his hand. "I'm your uncle, Zachariah Penny."

Feeling like a complete idiot, Cain accepted his greeting. "Sorry, sir, but I'm still having some trouble remembering things." He searched his brain for just the slightest memory of this kind-faced old man, but nothing registered. "People, too, I'm afraid."

"Well, I wouldn't fret none about it," Zack said with as much nonchalance as he could muster in the face of such outrageous lies. "Y'all haven't been with us but a couple of weeks now. I expect things will start coming back to you in bits and pieces 'fore long."

"I hope so." Cain's gaze shifted to the stove, where he saw a short woman nearly as wide as she was tall working over a large cast-iron kettle.

"Your aunt Oda," Zack said just before calling to her. "Supper about ready, missus?"

She turned, giving a slight nod to the lawman. "Soon. Good to see you up and about again, Cain."

"Thank you, ma'am. I wish I could be a little friendlier, but I just don't—"

"You aren't about to hurt my feelings any. Don't give it another thought."

Silently watching the exchange between Cain and her mother, Mariah felt a shiver of excitement skitter down her spine. The lawman seemed to fill the inside of the tent, not just with his bulk, as he had in her bed, but with his very presence, making Zack and Oda seem incredibly small to her. And when he spoke! Even though Cain was very confused, completely unsure of who or what he was, his voice still commanded the attention—and unquestioning obedience—of all those within earshot.

She thought back to Bucksnort and the way the marshal had taken the crowd away from her father even before he'd shown his badge. The man was a natural, a force to be reckoned with. The kind of man strangers believed in. Before she'd been thinking only of testing her potion and getting him to do some of the physical work for her father. Now she saw a much broader use for the man and his talents.

"Why don't you sit a spell?" Zack said to Cain, pulling up a collapsible stool. "You really shouldn't even be out of bed yet."

"Thanks, but no. I can't rest until I know a little more about myself and how I came to be here. Would you mind telling me why I'm traveling with you folks, where I came from, and where we're headed?"

Zack hitched up his trousers, trying to make himself as tall as the tale he would have to tell. "Why, this is the Doc Zachariah Kickapoo Medicine Show. I thought you already knew that."

Medicine show?
Cain recalled the bottles in the wagon, along with the fact that something about them disturbed him. "Have I been helping you out in some way, or—"

"Allow me," Mariah said, thinking of the perfect role for the lawman. Given the authority in his voice and his commanding physical presence, she was only surprised she hadn't thought of it sooner. With a genuine smile, she flashed her eyes and said, "Why, Cousin Cain—surely you remember how fast you were becoming the most popular feature of our show."

"I was?"

Zack lowered his voice to its most dramatic pitch as he said, "And profitable, too, son."

"Oh, yes." Mariah clutched her bosom. "The money has simply been rolling in since you joined up with us."

Cain closed his eyes and rubbed them, as if that might help stir up the embers of his memory, but his past was as blank as his present. He sighed. "Sorry, but I just can't seem to remember."

Mariah grinned. "See if this helps."

She dashed past Cain, winking at her father on the way, ducked into the wagon, and grabbed the props she was looking for. Garments in hand, she bounded back down the steps and launched herself up on the stool Zack had offered the lawman. After settling the stovepipe hat on her head, she fastened Zack's cape at her throat and then whirled, whipping the black satin garment into a dramatic frenzy.

When she came to a halt, the slick material still undulating around her, Mariah spoke in a deep, theatrical voice. "You, Cousin Cain, are the
one."
She pushed her ear forward with her hand. "What'd I say, y'all?"

"He's the one," Zack said, falling into rhythm.

"That's right. And he's the only one."

"Ayuh. The one and only."

Mariah threw her arms out at her sides and let her head fall back. "The one and only...
Brother Law!"

"Can we hear it for Brother Law," Zack cried. "Healer of the sick and inflrmed."

Cain was astounded by the revelations and the manner in which they were delivered. Looking from Mariah to Zack, and then to Oda, he clutched his chest and said, "Hell in a whiskey barrel. Are you trying to tell me that I'm some kind of a... a
preacher?"

Chapter 3

Navajo River, Colorado

One week later

Mariah took a deep breath of crisp mountain air, loving the heady scent of pine which seemed to saturate her to her very soul. This was an atmosphere in which she thrived and blossomed, no matter what the state of her mind. She was happy to be out of New Mexico Territory, even though at this time of year, its usually drab landscape was fresh with yellow Perky Sues and arroyos edged in delicate white flowers from the Apache Plume shrub. But here in southern Colorado, the land gradually evolved into a panorama of tall timber, bushy pinon pines, and lush valleys and mountain slopes carpeted with the blooms of bright lavender columbines. She was, in a word, home. And here in the towns of Colorado, the Penny family would stay throughout the entire summer and a good part of the fall.

Moving at their usual snail's pace, the family still had a two-day journey ahead of them before they would reach Pagosa Springs, some twenty-five miles north of where they'd spent the night. There they would put on their first really "big" show of the season, and Mariah hoped to work Cain into the act.

So far, she hadn't had much of an opportunity to train him. Her new cousin had gotten dizzy, and then passed out again shortly after learning about his role as Brother Law. When he'd finally awakened the following morning, he'd been sick to his stomach, and his memory of even the previous twenty-four hours had been sketchy at best. Zack and Mariah had insisted that the injured man remain in her bed until his brain had a chance to heal itself. And there he'd stayed, lying on the mattress in the medicine wagon for the past five days as the troupe moved north, Daisy lying on the floor beside him—little traitor that she'd become.

Except for her dog's odd and very irritating behavior, this arrangement had worked out fine for Mariah. She'd begun her cousin's medical "therapy" immediately, sick stomach and all. Leaving him with a bottle of love potion she'd labeled #20, she'd instructed him to swallow one teaspoon upon awakening and another each night after supper. Now, a week later, he had just under half a bottle left, but she still had no idea if the potion was working. Perhaps, Mariah thought, she ought to double the dosage. Either that, or make the next bottle "double strength." He certainly seemed physically strong enough to handle more medicine.

This morning, Mariah thought Cain had awakened especially full of vigor and energy, bright-eyed and confident of his physical condition, if not his mental abilities. He was, for all purposes, a clean slate just waiting for her to inscribe the missing information. She planned to begin filling it the moment the medicine show pulled out of camp.

The troupe, including Cain, decided to split the mules from here on out, leaving one to draw the medicine wagon with Zack and Oda aboard, and the other to haul the supply cart. Cain had assured everyone that he was more than able to handle the second rig, and Mariah decided that it would serve two purposes if she were to ride beside him. First, she'd be there to take control of the cart if Cain should fall dizzy again. Second, and even more important, it was way past time for Brother Law's lessons to begin.

While Zack and Oda packed the tent, Mariah put the pots and pans they'd used for the breakfast meal into a storage slot at the back of the supply wagon, and then wandered down the gently sloping hillside to the river, where Cain was putting himself together for the journey. She found him at water's edge, wearing nothing but a clean pair of snug-fitting jeans and his boots. His back was to her, his hands busy adjusting the small mirror he'd propped between the branches of a young pine. On a lower, thicker branch, he'd set a tin cup filled with shaving foam.

Mariah continued to approach him from behind, gliding through the sweet spring grass on her moccasined feet as if she were nothing more than a gentle breeze. When she'd gotten as close to Cain as she dared without him catching her reflection in his mirror, she paused and watched while he lathered his face. His beard had grown thick and full over the past week, and if not for its deep rust color, she probably wouldn't have noticed that his hair was auburn, not dark brown as she'd first thought. It was particularly nice hair, coarse and wavy, a little longer, she thought, than he'd have worn it as a lawman, but not nearly long enough for his role as Brother Law. No, for that dramatic part, he would need to let those thick waves grow until they skimmed the tops of his shoulders, at the least.

Cain dipped the shaving brush back into the tin cup and swirled it vigorously, drawing her attention to his magnificent, broad shoulders. Mariah had never watched a half-naked man perform his ablutions before, or any man really, save for her father. She had to admit, the sight was stunning enough to take her breath away—in spite of what she knew, and disliked, about this particular man. She moved a little closer.

He tilted his head back and began to paint a thick coat of lather along his neck. His skin was smooth and dark, a nutmeg color which made him look healthy and robust, even though he'd just climbed out of his sickbed. She noticed a dusting of dark freckles along his shoulders and arms. Those and the way his thick muscles seemed to roll as he moved, bunching and expanding, drew her nearer and nearer, hypnotizing her. She welcomed the pull, felt a warmth wash over her, and even understood that it had been brought on by something she'd never experienced before—sexual desire.

Mariah knew that she would not be content until she actually put her hands on him; until she could feel those muscles bumping against the sensitive flesh of her palms. Of course she'd wondered about the goings-on between male and female from time to time, and even dreamed occasionally of what it might be like to one day have someone of her own, but Mariah had never been drawn to a man this way before or felt the urge to touch one so intimately. Had her potion somehow missed its mark and affected her instead of Cain?

She laughed to herself, casting off the ridiculous thought, transfixed by this "cousin" she both coveted and loathed. When she was but a whispered "Excuse me" away, she slowly raised both hands, hovering there above his magnificent body, until—

"What the—" Cain leapt to the side, wheeled around, and plowed his palms down the sides of his jeans, seeking, but not finding, the grips of his pistols. "Damn, Mariah. What are you trying to do? Scare my memory back?"

She laughed, the sound a low, throaty chortle. "Sorry, Cousin Cain. I just came on down to see how you're doing. Feeling all right?"

"Except for my pulse," he said, turning back to the mirror, "yes. I'm feeling pretty good."

Mariah had an idea that his pulse might have matched hers at that moment, but not for the same reasons. Hers was racing along on a flood of astonishment at those feelings of desire. But his startled reaction to her approach had jerked her out of her lusty musings and made her wonder about something else. How could she possibly be so drawn to this man, knowing what she knew about him? Had she begun to awaken sexually only to discover that she was an indiscriminate wanton, a woman capable of the most debased of matings?

In spite of these concerns, Mariah's gaze wandered to Cain's back again, and once more she fell under his spell.

What could be the harm in touching him? It wasn't as if he'd guess her thoughts—he didn't even know what his own thoughts were yet. And it might even serve as a kind of test to see how #20 was working.

Deciding it would be all right to allow this one indulgence, necessary even, Mariah brazenly reached out and let her fingers light on his right shoulder. The muscles stiffened beneath her touch for a moment, but then relaxed almost as quickly. As her senses tuned to his warmth and the slick, smooth way his skin melted against hers, she slowly dragged her hand across the expanse of his shoulders, squeezing here, rubbing there, allowing instinct to guide her. Aware only of the way his body felt below her fingertips, not of the man himself, Mariah gave a startled yelp when his voice came to her from over his shoulder.