Claudia Dain Page 24

  Chapter 20

  Anne could only stare at Bill, shock riding her hard and deep. She'd wanted the two men to drive each other off and all that had happened was that she was the bone they were fighting over.

  She should have known. Now she was staring at the worst possible outcome—direct conflict. This was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid. The tension and aggression between Bill and Jack was suffocating, oppressive, and she couldn't see a way to end it happily for all. Someone was going to be real mad at whatever she had to say.

  If she could think of something to say. Maybe, if she stayed real quiet and still, they'd work something out between them and she wouldn't have to say a thing. That was something worth wishing for.

  She could feel Jack looking at her, but she didn't dare meet his eyes. She wasn't sure what she'd see, but looking into Bill's eyes was bad enough. He looked ready to burst with angry expectation and frustration. Poor Bill, he'd had a time of it since Jack had arrived.

  There just didn't seem to be anything she could say that would make it all work out so that everyone was happy with her. Why hadn't she ever thought of this when she'd been playing Jack against Bill?

  Maybe because when she was with Jack, she didn't think of Bill at all. But she couldn't ignore him now, not with him standing not three feet off, looking like he'd carry her from the place if she delayed one second more. He sure hadn't thought his proposal would end up this way or that he'd have to wait for her answer.

  Bill sure did like to get his way.

  "Anne, you can't be thinking of refusing me. You have to know that I'm the better man, after all the time we've spent together... and he's just a... just a bounty hunter!"

  "That's right, Anne," Everett Winslow chimed in. "Bill's a respectable man, make a proper husband for you."

  "Anne," Bill said softly, "listen to him. I'm the man for you and you're the woman for me. You know that."

  They were all talking at her, trying to convince her, telling her what to do. Only Jack was silent. There was something bone-deep pleasant about a man who didn't prod and push.

  She looked at Jack then. He was still looking down at her, his face composed and easy, his eyes even a bit amused.

  "I guess you haven't got anything to say," she said.

  "Nah," he said slowly, "I figure you know what you want."

  She sure did. She wanted to get out of here, out of this fight, out of Abilene. Jack was the only one who ever even gave a thought to what she wanted. He was the only one who ever gave her a minute to listen to her heart to try to find out what she thought, what she wanted, and how to get it. He gave her room to breathe, to think, to move, without ever leaving her side. She didn't know how he did it but there was a comfort to it that should have set her running.

  She stayed put.

  "Think, Anne, think about what I'm offering you and what he's got," Bill said. "Think about those murders and how they started when he came to town. Think about how he gave that gal's mama in Junction City money to get out of town, so there'd be no witness, no one to point the finger."

  Even then Jack said nothing, though his hand tightened on her arm in silent anger. The fact that he didn't open his mouth to defend himself against such a wild claim made him seem all the more innocent. And made Bill look like a donkey that had his mouth open to the wind. Bill talked too much. It surely was starting to wear thin.

  It was then that two men came in, men who looked like Jack in that they were strung with rounds of ammunition and heavy with guns. Jack nodded, but that was all. He didn't leave her side and he didn't let go of her. And he didn't pressure her for a decision, telling her what to think and what to say, just so he'd get what he wanted. A feeling of safety settled on her, comforting her.

  But wasn't that always the danger of Jack?

  "Problem?" the dark one asked the room in general.

  "We're waiting for the lady to tell us just who she's going to marry," Jack said calmly.

  "Who's in the runnin'?" the dark-haired man asked.

  "Me 'n' him," Jack said.

  "You?" the blond asked, his eyes wide.

  "Me."

  "Not much contest in that," the dark one mumbled, except that they all could hear him, including Bill.

  "This man is Jack Skull," Bill snapped, "a bounty hunter and probably a murderer of young women."

  "Hell, Jack don't hurt women, unless kissin's a crime."

  Anne turned to him at that, her eyes wide and suspicious. That tore at the comfort she'd been feeling with Jack. It sounded just like a man to run around the country, kissing anything in skirts.

  It was hard news, but she needed to hear it. It wouldn't hurt to have a long conversation with this stranger, getting all the details, just so she could remember not to trust Jack any more than she would any other man. That's what she'd do if she was smart.

  "Shut up, Grey," Jack said smoothly.

  Grey just smiled.

  "You sure you asked her to marry you?" the blond asked. "That don't sound like you."

  "Shut up, Blakes," Jack said with a tight smile, "the lady's got a decision to make."

  "She's made it," Bill announced, coming to take Anne's other arm, uncomfortable at being so suddenly outnumbered.

  Jack moved her behind him as quick as a June bug and faced Bill down. "I didn't hear her say nothin'."

  "She will, if you get out of here," Bill said.

  "I'm not leavin'."

  There was really nothing for her to think about, not if she ignored what everybody else wanted and followed her own instincts. Bill was getting too wild to manage, too set on marrying. Jack Skull wasn't the kind to marry, but he was the kind to look for a fight just for the pure pleasure of fighting. It was all talk for him. Bill was serious. And there was no way out of this until she made up her mind between the two of them. She knew what she had to do and she'd just have a long talk, quiet and reasonable, with Jack about it later.

  "Yes," she said quietly from behind Jack's broad shoulders.

  Jack turned to face her, his back to Bill. "You sure?"

  He looked down at her, his eyes blue and soft. He knew she'd been talking to him and he'd waited for her to decide, without pushing at her. That was a nice quality in a person, even if it all was just a pissing contest with Bill.

  "Yeah," she said, surprised to find herself smiling.

  He smiled back, as big as the sky, and her smile faltered. Mercy, but he was a dangerous man. It was hard to be smart around such a man.

  "Lord, Anne, what will Miss Daphne say?" Everett groaned, throwing his apron down on a table in disgust.

  "Who the hell cares?" Jack grinned.

  Yeah, he was some dangerous man.

  "Now that's settled, I could use some food," Grey said, lifting his leg over a chair and easing himself down into it.

  "And coffee," Blakes said.

  "Anne! Think about what you're doing—" Bill whispered hoarsely.

  "The lady's decided," Jack said, looking over at Bill, his hands on Anne's waist. "Don't make it worse on yourself."

  Anne couldn't look at Bill; she felt too guilty at how she'd maneuvered everything. She used Jack's body to hide herself as much as possible and she held her tongue, wishing Bill away. Jack seemed to read her wish.

  "We're going to sit down for some pie; you want to join our party, you can stay. Otherwise, you can go."

  He said it easily enough, but there was a note of command underneath and Bill heard it. They all heard it.

  Bill grabbed his hat and shoved it on his head; even trying to avoid looking at him, she could see that his face was black with fury.

  "You've just made the biggest mistake of your life, Anne. I only hope you live long enough to regret it."

  "You leave now," Jack growled, "and I'll let you go unbloodied. You ever threaten my woman again and I'll kill you."

  Anne shivered. He meant it. He meant every word. She'd never heard words thrown with such pure intent and straight meaning. Jack sounded l
ike he wanted to kill Bill and couldn't wait for the chance. But Bill walked out without looking back. And Jack let him go.

  "Gettin' married has softened you already," Grey said from his spot at the table. "I remember a time when it took less for you to kill a deserving man."

  "I'm getting older, wiser," Jack said, escorting Anne to the table. "I don't want to kill a man when I'm about to have a piece of pie with my intended. Too messy."

  "You are getting old." Grey laughed, stretching his legs out. "When are you going to introduce us?"

  "Anne," Jack said lightly, "this is John Grey. And this is Josiah Blakesley. Last I saw them, they were in Texas. What they're doing here, I don't know," he finished in a tone just shy of condemning.

  "Hello," Anne said softly, still coming to grips with the notion that she'd just said she'd marry Jack. He sure was talking like he'd meant it; Bill was gone. He could rest easy and let it all out as a joke, especially in front of his friends. That he was acting so serious about it left her speechless.

  "Ma'am." They both nodded, John Grey lifting his hat to her. Josiah Blakesley, stood up, bowed briefly, and looked her over while taking his chair again. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, returning the look.

  "Anne, you just go on and call them Grey and Blakes, like everyone else does. Mr. Winslow," Jack called out, his arm on the back of Anne's chair, his nearness proprietary, "we'll have four coffees, four pieces of apple pie, and extra sugar."

  Everett grumbled but he didn't hesitate, not when faced with the three men plunked down in his establishment. They were fighting men and looked every inch of it. Totally unexpectedly, Jack Skull had reinforcements.

  The pie and coffee appeared without delay. Jack shoved the sugar bowl toward Anne. He didn't need to be reminded that she liked sugar in her coffee. Anne settled back in her chair, feeling slightly befuddled about her agreeing to marry Jack. She needed to talk to him quick, before news of it spread all over Abilene and landed at Miss Daphne's feet.

  Mr. Grey and Mr. Blakesley dug right into their slices of pie; Mr. Winslow wasn't slight on his portions, no matter how he felt about his customers. Jack just sat back with his arm around the back of her chair, a real satisfied expression on his face. He took his time and ate his pie one bite at a time; his friends ate theirs in two or three gulps, their cheeks bulging and their throats working. They were on their second cup of coffee before Anne had swallowed once. It was good pie; flaky, light, and sweet. Still, she was having trouble swallowing. The idea of marriage was caught in her throat.

  "I haven't had a nice slice of pie since... when was it?" Grey asked the air above his head. "That time in Miles City or maybe that fancy place in St. Louis?"

  "What about that place in Brownsville, just before the Chisholm drive?" Blakes asked.

  "Yeah, that was good pie. Blackberry," Grey said with a dreamy expression.

  "You come up here to talk pie?" Jack asked.

  "Nah," Grey said, "but I don't mind. I like remembering. Course, it's rude to cut you out, ma'am." He nodded in apology.

  "That's all right. I don't mind," she said. It kept them from talking marriage and that was good.

  "You know why we came," Blakes said.

  "I know why you think you came," Jack said, tipping back in his chair. "And you can go on home."

  "Well, we're not going," Grey said with a smile, "so we're here for a while. Extra hands never hurt no job, Jack."

  Jack said nothing for a while, just looked down at his pie, taking a bite every now and then. Finally, he said softly, "Guess not."

  Their mood relaxed at that.

  "Well, I guess we'd better find us a place to stay. This town's short a hotel and it'll take some doing to find ourselves a bed," Grey said.

  "I could help you—" Anne said.

  "Nah," Jack interrupted, "they can take care of themselves. The prairie's not too bad, this time of year."

  "Hell, Jack, it's a cold wind blowing out there," Grey grumbled.

  "You'll get along," Jack said easily.

  "I guess you got a place," Blakes said.

  "I do and there's no room for more," Jack said.

  "I can guess where," Grey said. The eyes of the two strangers turned to Anne and flicked over her lightly. Anne flushed instantly.

  "Good," Jack said, "then you know you'll have to fend for yourselves. The jailhouse isn't bad."

  "You speaking personal?" Grey grinned.

  Jack shrugged and Grey laughed softly. "Hell, I guess we can bunk there as well as anywhere."

  "You watch your mouth, Grey," Jack said. "You're cussing in front of a lady and I have it personal she don't take to it."

  "Ma'am," Grey apologized. "Won't happen again."

  Grey and Blakes scraped back their chairs on the wooden floor and stood to go.

  "We'll see you later, Jack, and it was a real pleasure to meet you, ma'am. You're a real lady to take on a man like Jack Skull."

  "Shut up, Grey," Jack said calmly.

  "Ma'am," Blakes said softly, "I wish you well on your marriage. Jack's a lucky man."

  "Thank you," Anne said to both of them.

  "You better be getting on, too, right, Jack?" Grey smirked. "Ain't you got to go meet with the preacher and get things arranged?"

  Jack had just finished his pie. Anne had just picked at hers, her stomach so tight with emotion that she could hardly breathe. What she'd managed to swallow lay like a stone in her middle. She didn't want any more.

  "You ready to go, Anne?" Jack asked, his eyes still soft and blue and warm with some emotion she couldn't name but wanted to bathe in, it warmed her so. Stupid. She needed to get away from him as fast as she could run.

  "Yes, I am," she said.

  When they were out of the Demorest, the streets of Abilene quiet and dark, she said, "I didn't see you as the marrying kind."

  "No man sees himself that way, but it happens," he said.

  "But not to you," she said. Not to me. "I know what you did back there, that was for Bill, that was just men talking, trying to best each other."

  "What?" He stopped her and turned her to face him. She couldn't quite look into his eyes, so she stared off over his left shoulder.

  "You weren't serious, I know you weren't. I won't hold you to anything. You probably just wanted to drive off Bill. Well, you have. That's all there is to it."

  "You don't understand men at all, do you, Anne?" His voice was low and hard, filled with an anger that she could feel throbbing out from him. "Well, hell, that's fine, because I understand women real good. I understand you."

  "Excuse me?" she said, looking up into his eyes.

  "Yeah, you ought to ask to be excused, but you won't. Hell, I played my part, didn't I? I got you free of Tucker. Your aunt, now she thinks that you need to find a man to be happy and she'll use me to get you one. What she don't know is that you don't want a man, but you'll use me to get rid of one for you. Hell and damnation, I'm real popular when the women of your house need something done. But what about what I want? You give any thought at all to what I might want?"

  He understood things too well, that was the trouble. He didn't want a wife—what man did?—but he didn't want to be played for a fool either. A man sure didn't want it to get out that he'd been played.

  "You don't need to do anything you don't want to do," she said, turning from him, walking on. "I'm certain you don't want a wife."

  He grabbed her arm and spun her around, pulling her in close. She could feel his breathing against her chest and her own breathing faltered.

  "You don't know me, Anne. You don't know the first thing about what I want."

  "I know—"

  "You keep still," he said, tracing a hand down her face to her throat. "You listen to me. I'll tell you what I want. I want you to marry me. I want you to want to. Understood? You've got three days to get there and then, by damn, you're going to be my wife."

  "You won't force me to marry you. Not you."

  But she cou
ldn't quite see his eyes in the shadows of the night. His hat was pulled low, hiding his features from her. Where was the man who didn't push and prod? Where was the man who let her find her own way?

  "You don't know me," he said, his voice a husky throb that touched her face like a rough caress. "You want to escape marrying me? You got to leave Abilene to do that." He laughed, soft and quick. "Can you do that, Anne? Can you leave Abilene? 'Cause that's your only way out."

  "Do you want to get married?" she asked.

  "Let's just say I want you to want to."

  Pride. It was all about pride. His, of course, not hers. Well, she wasn't going to give in to male pride.

  "Not an answer," she said, turning sharply and walking away from him. He let her go and kept step with her.

  "It's good to see you got some fight in you, Anne. It gives me real pleasure to see it. This town sells you short."

  "What does that mean?"

  Jack looked at her sideways, his eyes showing light against the dark slant of his brows. He was a handsome man. He was going to be her husband. Or so he said. She would have to leave Abilene to keep it from happening. But he couldn't make her say the words, could he? Even if she stayed? No one could force her to do that.

  "I meant that you're a grown woman," he said, "and more than half this town treats you like an adorable halfwit."

  She didn't stop walking toward home, she had at least that much self-control, but the surge of anger that burst up with that casual remark was as hot and high as heat waves in August. A half-wit? He thought that the respect and concern and pure affection that her friends and neighbors in Abilene showered on her was the pitiful condescension they'd give to a half-wit?

  "Bill doesn't call me a half-wit," she said through clenched teeth, her feet speeding up without any plan on her part. Jack kept pace with her and, for once, she wished he wouldn't.

  "Maybe not," Jack said, "but he treats you like one."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, huffing in her hurry to get on, to get away from him. "Everybody likes me."