The Texan's Bride (16 page)

The crisp night air brought shivers to Katie’s skin. Branch slipped off his jacket and placed it around her bare shoulders. “Ought to teach you not to run about half naked,” he grumbled, detaching the collar from his shirt and burying it in the middle of a pot of yellow daffodils that sat beside the doorway. “You’d best watch out for men like Strickland. In those fancy eastern colleges they teach men how to eat girls like you for lunch. Now, what is it you were thinking to tell me before Romeo interrupted?”

Katie couldn’t stop her gaze from straying to the cords of his neck that had been hidden beneath the collar. For some reason, now he seemed almost naked. “Oh.” She dragged her attention back to the problems at hand. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Well?”

She pursed her lips and lifted her hands to secure a flower in her hair. Da was right, she told herself, as Branch’s stare went right to her bodice. This dress was truly a weapon. “Look, I need to speak with Keeper, and since he follows you everywhere, I decided to tell you first so that you’d not wonder about him when we leave the party for a little while.”

Light filtering through the windows illuminated the perplexed expression on Branch’s face. “What do you have to say to Keeper, and why do you think you have to leave to do it?”

Mentally, Katie said a quick prayer that Branch would believe her next tale. She’d added a bit to the original plan after seeing Keeper with Branch tonight, and her story might very well have holes the size of watermelons in it, but it was the best she could do at the moment. “Daniel’s run away.”

“What?” Branch said. “No, I don’t believe it.”

She nodded. “He left a note. Only, I don’t believe it either, and since he and Keeper are friends, I thought perhaps he might know the truth.”

Branch held up a hand. “Whoa there, girl. Back up. Start from the beginning and tell me the complete story.”

Katie took a deep breath. “When I woke up this morning, I found a note from Daniel saying that he’d left home to join the navy. We think he left late last night.”

Inside the tavern, the fiddler began a lively reel. “The navy?” Branch asked. “The Texas Navy?”

Katie nodded. “Commodore Moore once stayed at the inn. He’s been a hero of Daniel’s ever since he told my brother that the injury to his hand wouldn’t prevent him from being a sailor.”

Branch shook his head. “What’s the kid thinking of? He’s way too young to do anything like that. Besides, do you know where Moore is right now?”

“I read the newspapers, Branch. I know about the Texas-Yucatan alliance.”

Branch sighed heavily and raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll go after him for you. You say he left last night? He can’t be too far. I’ll see you back to the Sternes’ and then…”

“No, that’s not what I wanted,” Katie interrupted. “I don’t believe my brother went south, but I do think Keeper might know something.”

Branch was silent for a moment, staring out at the empty square. “Your breed, what about him?”

“Shaddoe? What’s Shaddoe got to do with this?” Katie’s heart began to pound.

“That’s what I’m askin’.”

“Oh, Shaddoe left last week,” she lied. “He’s gone back to Mexico.”

Branch arched an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday?”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“You’re a witchy woman, Kate.” Frowning, he traced a finger along the bare curve of her shoulder. “Where’s your father? What’s he have to say about all this?”

His touch brought shivers to her skin, making it hard to concentrate on his questions and her story. She stepped beyond his reach, saying, “Da believes Daniel’s hiding in town. He decided to come to this party because he thinks Daniel will see us and it’ll hurt his feelings. This is about the sixth time he’s left home in the last couple of years, and Da is getting pretty tired of it.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would he come to a Regulator party just to give Daniel a hard time? Doesn’t sound a bit like your father to me.”

Katie rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Haven’t you noticed both Moderators and Regulators inside that room? This ball celebrates Texas Independence Day, it’s not a Regulator gala. Most people can put aside their differences on such an occasion, my father included.”

“Don’t worry yourself into a snit; all you do then is attract attention. And it’s not like you need anymore, walking around half-naked. Lord knows, what your Pa is thinking of, letting you—” He stopped abruptly and scowled. “You never said where John got off to.”

Katie snapped. “He felt tired and left a little while ago. Billy Simpkins said he’d accompany me back to the Sternes’.”

“Your father left you in the hands of that Lothario?” Branch asked incredulously. “And to think I gave John Gallagher credit for a little sense.”

Katie lilted her chin. “What is it about you and Shakespeare, Kincaid? I happen to think Mr. Simpkins is a very nice man. Now I’d like to speak with Keeper, if you please.”

Branch reluctantly gave in. “Wait right here. I’ll bring the boy outside.” He walked toward the door, then stopped, adding, “But you can be damn sure we’ve not finished this particular discussion.”

As he returned to the tavern, Katie absently fingered the petals of a yellow daffodil blooming in a pot set atop the porch railing. The ladies of town did their best to spruce up the tavern for the ball.

Where
was
Da? He was supposed to bring Keeper to the church. Who’d have thought the boy would show up at the dance? Da must be searching all over town for him.

What should she do now? How was she going to get rid of Branch? She shouldn’t have stopped him from going after Daniel.
Dumb, Katie, dumb
, she scolded herself. Why had she hesitated in sending him off on a wild-goose chase?

That little voice in her head that enjoyed arguing so much answered.
Because you didn’t want to worry him. Because you know he really wants to help your family. Because you trust him
. “Dumb, Katie, dumb.”

The greenery surrounding the flower was smooth beneath her fingers. She looked down at her hand. She was angry with herself, angry at her errant emotions, which had intruded in such an untimely manner. Then she glanced around. Two clay pots filled with flowers framed the doorway. Branch’s collar hung over the rim of the one on the left.

She never would have considered it had the little voice not been shouting in her head. Sometimes only actions could quiet unruly thoughts.

Katie smiled.

JOHN GALLAGHER worriedly rubbed his palm against his whiskered jaw. It was nearing two o’clock in the morning, and Keeper McShane was missing from his cot in his jail cell home. Where could the boy be?

“I must find the lad, and soon,” he muttered. So much of this plan rode on the boy, and he feared they’d need time to convince Keeper to do as they asked. He turned to leave the cell and heard the front door of the jailhouse bang open. Pressing himself into the room’s darkest corner, he listened to heavy footsteps shuffle across the outer room. A chair creaked and a desk drawer rasped open.

“That boy! He’s done it again,” came the disgusted voice. Then Jack Strickland bellowed, “Boy! Boy, get your butt out of bed and come here.”

Saints a ‘mighty, the sheriff wasn’t supposed to be here
!

The drawer banged shut. “Boy, I am talking to you. You’ve been in my whiskey again, haven’t you? Son, I’m through warning you. Get out here now.” He mumbled then, saying, “That Kincaid, this is probably his fault. He evidently encourages the boy. And the nerve of him, taking a woman on his rounds. I should have gone after them instead of ducking out the back. The woman’s a jewel. How could I have missed seeing it before?”

Again he shouted, “Boy!” The chair scraped across the floor as he stood.

Hearing the footsteps approach Keeper’s cell, John felt around in the darkness for some sort of weapon. His hands closed around the familiar neck of a whiskey jug. A boy Keeper’s age shouldn’t be drinking, he thought as he lifted the bottle above his head. He prepared himself to strike.

But he made a terrible mistake.

He hadn’t figured Strickland would be carrying a lantern. He swung the glass container, clipping Strickland on the forehead, but not before the light illuminated his face. Strickland mumbled the word “Gallagher,” and slumped to the floor.

“May the Good Lord strike me for a fool,” John said, scooping up the lamp before it could start anything afire. This entire plan had gone to hell in a hand-basket. A man wouldn’t be getting by, conkin’ a sheriff over the head.

Especially when that sheriff was a Regulator and himself a Moderator.

This would change everything. “Your seein’ me face has mucked it up but good,” he told the unconscious man. “I’m too near to dying to start killing people now.” The pains in his gut had been occurring with increasing frequency, and John wasn’t one to fool himself about such things. He frowned, glaring at the heap at his feet. “Couldn’t you have waited a bit a’fore allowin’ the thirst to overcome you?”

Grabbing the sheriff’s boots, John tugged the man farther into the cell and slammed the door. Every bit of time he could gain would serve them well, he thought. Whether he liked it or not, it appeared now that a whole passel of folks would be leaving with Shaddoe for the Territory.

“I still have to find the boy, though,” he murmured. Stealthily, he left the jailhouse and hurried up the street, checking the windows at the church as he passed.
Should I stop and see if Daniel and Shaddoe are there waiting for me
?

“No,” he whispered. He had to find the boy first.

He reached the square and turned toward Brown’s Tavern, thinking the dance might have been what lured the youngster from his bed. The sight of Katie, standing in the street, struggling with Keeper McShane, nudged him into a run.

But the sight of Branch Kincaid, lying flat on his back in the dirt, the broken stem of a daffodil drooping across his nose, and soil and pieces of clay clinging to his dirty white shirt stopped John Gallagher cold.

“Katie me love, what have you done this time?”

CHAPTER 9

SCENT TICKLED HIS NOSE. No, something soft. A woman. Not a woman, something connected with a woman. He opened his mouth a bit. His tongue touched the heaviness at the corner of his lips. Ugh. Dirt. Why was there dirt in his bed?

He wasn’t in bed. Damn that Katie Starr. As Branch strained to lift his eyelids, he heard the whispers.

The feminine voice said, “Don’t hurt him, Da.”

“I’m not hurting him. I’ll take the gag from his mouth the moment we reach the church. Boy, you be still now. We’ll not be a’painin’ you.”

Keeper
, Branch thought. They’re doing something with Keeper.

Katie’s skirt rustled as she walked by him. He knew it was her. By God, was that a giggle he heard?

His head pounded mercilessly. Was she using his face for a dance floor now that his feet weren’t available? Finally, minutes later, he opened his eyes. He couldn’t see Katie Starr, but as he gingerly prodded the lump atop his head, he knew damn well she’d been there.

The music coming from within the tavern ended, and couples began exiting the building. “Why, Deputy!” a woman’s concerned voice exclaimed. “What has happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m just fine, ma’am,” Branch answered. Beneath his breath he added, “Angry enough to chew nails, but just fine.”

An amused voice asked, “What’s the matter, Kincaid? Courting get a little dirty tonight?”

Branch groaned. Why didn’t the blasted dance last just fifteen minutes longer? His smile didn’t reach his eyes as he answered, “The lady seemed to believe my language was too flowery.”

Couples ringed him as he climbed to his feet and accepted the good-natured ribbing offered by the partygoers. How nice to provide the final entertainment of the evening, he thought sardonically. He flicked the mud from his clothing as best he could, more to give himself time for his temper to cool than from any concern over his appearance.

He waited for the square to empty. All was black and silent. As quiet as the night, he made his way toward the Catholic church, his smile gleaming wicked in the starlight.
Little does she know it
, he thought,
but Katie’s party is just beginning
.

Jack Strickland woke up cursing. The stink of the jail floor had soaked into his clothing, and he rubbed something sticky from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “That gray-beard Irishman will pay for this,” he declared.

His head pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer, and he lifted his hand to touch the tender lump above his ear. Bottle whipped by an old man. It was embarrassing.

Sheriff Strickland did not enjoy being embarrassed.

What mischief took place here tonight? Why had Gallagher been at the jailhouse? Did this business concern his daughter and Kincaid, or did it involve something more sinister?

Jack climbed to his feet and pushed against the cell door. He gave a grim laugh. That fool had locked the door but foolishly failed to search his victim’s pockets. Strickland reached into his vest and withdrew his ring of keys.

Once out of the cell, Strickland grabbed his Hawken rifle and left the jailhouse intent on locating Kincaid. He intended to set the deputy on Gallagher’s trail, then call out the Regulators. The Moderators might very well have planned an operation for tonight.

Well past two in the morning, only night creatures roamed the town. Strickland noticed a raccoon digging in the trash alongside the mercantile, and as he passed the doctor’s office, he heard a strange thumping noise. Could it be Gallagher?

His left hand held his gun, a finger fondling the trigger, and with his right he tried the door. Unlocked. Cautiously, he nudged it open.

Doc Mayfair was the source of the noise. He and Sidney Wilson lay on the floor, tied and gagged, with the doctor banging his legs against the wall.

Wilson started squawking the minute Strickland loosened the rag around his mouth. “An Injun, Sheriff. An honest-to-goodness Injun. The red bastard got me and the Doc, scared the bejeezus out of me. He said something in one of those crazy tongues and smiled like the devil himself. Naked and painted he was. His entire face was red and black, colored like some creature let loose from hell. Damn, I’m lucky to have my hair!”