by Addison Cain
Matthew’s scowl deepened once he noticed Nathaniel shifting his weight between his feet. After a pause, the man said, “I don’t… rightly know what you’re talking about, ma’am.”
She absently smoothed her hands over her skirt. “I’m assuming Eli isn’t here?”
Nathaniel spoke up. “He ain’t.”
She was relieved. “That’s probably for the best. Don’t get me wrong, I really like that boy. My time with him was… it was nice.” Soft finger waves bounced at her jaw, the woman laughing to herself. “But to be honest, Eli is still quite a talker. Hardly stops to draw breath.”
Ever so slightly, Matthew’s brow twitched. Though his voice remained steady, those pale eyes took her in as if she were flat out confounding. “Still quite a talker? How you know Eli?”
The woman’s attention went straight to Nathaniel, an obvious question on her face. The woolly head briefly shook in the negative, a movement not missed by his younger brother.
Cocking her head to the side, she asked point blank, “Mr. Emerson, are you telling me you don’t know who I am?”
The only answer offered was a short throaty hum vaguely implying he had never laid eyes on her before the previous evening.
Nodding, she forced an uncomfortable smile.
Planting her feet, the golden girl straightened her spine and lost all traces of delicacy. “On the night of December 12th, my car broke down a few miles up the road while I was transporting a prisoner to be executed.”
Though she addressed Matthew, Nathaniel nodded, squeezing the hat pressed to his chest. “I offered you five hundred dollars for a ride, a small fortune. You found it unacceptable at first, but you and I came to a soft agreement after a group of thugs attacked your roadhouse—the hired lackeys of a man I informed you was Harrison McCray.” The light in her eye grew dangerous, her tone suddenly gritty. “I shot five of them in your defense and stitched up Nathaniel here in exchange for your chatterbox cousin to drive me to New York. I sent the cash along a few weeks later with a newspaper clipping showing you just who you helped rid this world of. Thanks in small part to you, a man responsible for the murder of at least twenty-seven people got fried and is rotting six feet underground.”
Sucking his lower lip, still holding his rough hat pressed to his chest, Matthew Emerson took an intimidating step closer. She was not the unkempt face and scratchy voice from that night. Where were the harshly angled jaw and beady eyes? The dirty hair cropped short like a man’s? The broad shoulders? The woman standing before him was feminine, proportionate and willowy. She looked like soft things.
Hell, she smelled soft.
“You’re telling me that you…”
She cut him off before he could continue. “Yes, I am.” Matthew was accustomed to people respecting his authority to an extreme, but this woman’s reaction to intimidation, intentional or not, was to bristle. “After our little shootout, I spent three days with Eli, the boy talking my ear off the entire way to Sing Sing. Everything he said about Monroe was…” she hesitated, as if unsure how to explain. “I never thought a nice place like that could exist. I mean, I used to daydream that nonsense, but…” She looked out the window to the greenery. “I suppose this brings me to the first reason I came to see you. I would like to stay.” Seeing the instant judgment in Matthew’s gaze, she quickly amended, “Just for a short time. I’m not here to cause any trouble, and I’m asking your family for permission. I’m aware the Emerson name is a powerful thing round these parts. If you wish it, I’ll drive away tomorrow.”
Matthew fixated on her mouth, remembered the scarred lip of the bounty hunter, realizing her pretty red lipstick was nothing but camouflage.
“I’d like to sit and look at things.” Once the words were spoken neither of the Emerson brothers understood. In fact, they were both looking at her as if she were a peculiar oddity in a freak show. Clearing her throat, she took a small step back as if to escape his looming nearness. “What I mean to say is, the way Eli talked about Monroe—it would be nice to sit and rest in the quiet.” Pursing her lips, she looked to Nathaniel again. “It’s been years since I have had the chance to sit still… and look at things.”
There was a deep throat noise of disagreement. When Matthew’s verdict was made, it was abrasive and clear. “A woman like you don’t belong here.”
She didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “I understand. In that case, let me cover the second reason I came to see you today, then I’ll be on my way.”
She pulled her gaze from colorless eyes and looked down into the bag hanging from her shoulder. Digging into the satchel, her fingers found the rectangular object, extending the small-framed photograph to the bootlegger. “I brought something for Eli. A memento, you could say, of his adventure. You can give it to him after I’m gone. Say it came in the post.”
In the candid shot, Eli stood in front of Sing Sing, the boy proud and full of life.
The woman’s fingertip brushed it warmly, and her eyes grew soft again. As if lost in a fond memory, she spoke, “I really do like that fool boy.”
Matthew moved with the sluggishness of cold molasses, reaching out to take the framed photograph. Once it was handed over, he studied Eli’s picture, his scowl even deeper than before.
With a peacemaking smile, the golden girl met Nathaniel’s ruddy gaze. After slipping off her glove, she offered a handshake. “It was nice to see you again, Nathaniel. Glad to find the shoulder mended so well.”
The eldest Emerson stood dumbstruck, took her hand and pumped their joined fists once. After croaking out a “Ma’am,” he released her from his paw and looked down at his younger brother.
When her attention went back to Matthew, he was unwilling to meet her eye. Even so, she offered her hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me. I won’t trouble you further.”
Hesitating, he put his palm to hers. He did not shake her hand but rather turned it, studying the light smear of bruises across her knuckles. Unsure what on earth possessed him, he growled and brushed his thumb over the marks.
Cheeks going pink, she pulled her fingers away.
Nathaniel’s eyes saw the same thing Matthew’s had. That little girl had punched someone good and hard to earn those bruises.
A slow spreading grin replaced Nathaniel’s stupid expression. “You the one who clocked Walter Keck last night?”
As she pulled her glove back on, the woman shrugged. “He’s lucky that’s all I did. Bastard cornered me outside and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Jesus, Matthew,” Nathaniel began wheezing he was laughing so hard. “You should let her stay for that reason alone. Wally is one dumb sumbitch.”
By the way the corner of her mouth ticked, she tried to fight a smile, but did nothing to stifle the way her blue eyes glittered in mirth.
“You ain’t never gave us your name.” Matthew’s soft-spoken reprimand was that of a mother correcting a bad mannered child.
With a bashful smirk, she realized her blunder. “Charlotte Elliot… Charlie.” The woman had more to say. “After I’m gone, I would appreciate if you and Nathaniel continued your silence about my profession. There are a lot of bad men who would relish the chance to harm a bounty hunter, and it would be dangerous for me if anyone learned I was really a woman.”
“You can stay,” Matthew grunted so low, so low he wasn’t sure Charlotte heard him.
But a slow spreading smile lit up her face. “Really? I can stay?”
Matthew nodded, shuffling his mass behind the counter to fire up the grill unable to look at that smile for another moment.
Nathaniel grinned, shooting a wink at the glowing blonde. “Be seeing you around, Miss Elliot.”
“Call me Charlie.”
“Charlie’s a boy’s name,” the gruff eldest Emerson ribbed, cackling at the glare Matthew shot his way.
The woman just snorted, pushing through the screen door to set off towards her car.
“Well, I’ll be damned,�
�� Nathaniel said, slouching back into a chair and pulling a jar of shine from his coat pocket. “I can hardly believe that foul-mouthed ballbreaker looks so damn fine in a dress. I like her! You think she’d marry me if I asked?”
“You knew who she was last night.” Matthew was not asking a question.
Nathaniel offered a grin. “A man don’t forget eyes like that.”
“You knew it was a woman…” Angry, Matthew rested his hands on the counter and leaned nearer.
“The second she braced my hand on her hip and I got a feel of just what was hiding under all those clothes, I suspected. When she started speakin’ soft, offerin’ comfort before she dug her bare hand right into me, I was certain. Then there’s the fact that while you were upstairs I watched her stitch up a nasty gash that prisoner ran through her belly.”
Matthew was thoroughly pissed off.
“You can pout at me all you like, little brother.” Nathaniel took a long sip. “Doesn’t change that what she was, was no one’s business but hers.”
A few moments later, Eli came bounding through the door. “Was that Miss Elliot? She stop by for breakfast or something? I wonder what a fancy city lady like that would be doing here. Was she lookin’ for work?”
Nathaniel took a long swig and grinned at his cousin. “She came by to court me.”
SEEING the place in sunlight was surreal. It was still just a typical backwoods roadhouse—the same tin signs, dingy fridge for Coca-Cola on the porch, and vacant side garage. But it was different, too. The air smelled like the bloom of summer, a little dusty with the heat of warm drying grass; nothing like the crisp cold and smell of blood from her last visit.
A fly zipped past, buzzing loud, as the screen door snapped shut behind her. Inside she could hear the men talking, arguing more like, but what did that matter?
Charlie found herself grinning so hard her cheeks began to ache. After the unpleasant way Matthew had been watching her the previous night, she was certain he would shoo her off. But he hadn’t. He was going to let her stay.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d found a place to relax without needing to constantly look over her shoulder. Hell, it had been a lifetime since she’d been able to wear a dress, grow out her hair, and openly be a woman.
Exposing herself to the Emerson boys was a little crazy, but Eli had described a wonderland, and she wanted a piece of it. Monroe County might boast darker commerce, the Emersons might have a less than reputable character, but none of that mattered. Compared to the seedy places she’d lurked, the little town of Gap Mills seemed downright wholesome.
Men and women milled about, running to the feed supply, picking up necessities from the general store, and chatting in the shaded awnings of the sparse public buildings—including the township’s only place to lodge: Fontanne’s Boarding House.
After informing the proprietress of her intention to stay on a month, Charlie made her way upstairs and flopped onto the creaking bed.
She could stay!
“ELI, LOAD UP THEM CRATES.” Matthew pointed, before he turned to the tallest. “You too, Nathaniel. When I get back, I better not see you two jackasses foolin’ around.”
Hands shoved in his pockets, Matthew walked towards the general store and glanced out the corner of his eye towards Fontanne’s Boarding House. Charlotte’s beat-up car was there—the woman back from wherever she disappeared to every other time he’d come to town.
He didn’t find taking notice to be prying, more an act of social welfare. Having given his consent she could stay, if the woman did anything—harmed anyone—it was his responsibility to answer for it.
Hell, he’d watched her shoot five men and cut off a man’s finger without flinching. God only knew what else she was capable of.
Grumbling, Matthew looked back to the small plank path under his feet and just about ran into the very object of his thoughts.
Charlotte, far more distracted, smashed face first into his chest. With a yelp and a hurried apology, she jumped back, stammering when she realized just who she’d marched in to. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Emerson. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“S’alright.” He looked past her, making it clear she was not only in his way, but annoying him as well. After a pregnant pause, Matthew made a throaty mumble of gibberish and stepped around her, leaving Charlotte there without so much as a good day.
Behind him, he heard the low chuckles of his older brother. “I don’t think he likes you too much, Charlie.”
Ducking into the General Store, Matthew peered out the shop window, and watched the woman squint up at his scruffy kin. With a halfcocked smirk, she agreed, “That’s for damn sure.”
Pulling off his hat and using it to shade her eyes, Nathaniel grinned. “Howdy.”
“Been behaving yourself, Nathaniel?”
“Not hardly.”
“Color me surprised.”
His brother’s grin only grew. “It’s been a week since you came down to visit us, Miss Charlie. When you gonna come on back to Devil’s Hollow?”
Charlie seemed to think it over, pursing her lips. “Maybe I’ll stop by for some lunch.”
“Supper’s better. That’s when things get real excitin’.”
“Spending my evening with a bunch of drunks does sound tempting, but in this instance, lunch will do me just fine.” Though Charlotte had said it, Matthew had his own opinions on her visiting.
Marching out to tell her so, however, failed spectacularly. Once she heard the sound of the general store door creaking open behind her, Charlie tossed Nathaniel a final playful sneer and sauntered off without so much as a glance at him.
Chapter 3
When noontime came, Charlie arrived at Devil’s Hollow Roadhouse. Local farmers and country boys alike sat about the checkered tables, sipping jars and smoking, growing quiet when a woman strolled in.
Eli, bitter to be put to work sweeping floors, failed to notice. Neither did Nathaniel, who sat at the counter staring forward with glazed eyes, just about three sheets to the wind. It didn’t seem to bother her none, Charlie slipping onto the stool and nodded towards where Matthew watched her in the mirror above the grill.
Her voice was sweet, maybe even a touch timid. “Good afternoon, Mr. Emerson.”
“Well, hot damn!” Nathaniel, full of trouble, grinned right at her. “If it isn’t Miss Charlie.”
“Lower your voice, Nathaniel,” Matthew growled over his shoulder. “You’re making a damn fool of yourself.”
The golden girl ignored the brothers, peering around Matthew’s body to see just what was cooking.
Glancing over his shoulder, Matthew grumbled, “You want somethin’, Miss Elliot?”
“Hmmm?”
Nathaniel put his lips back to the rim of his jar. “I wish she’d look at me the way she’s eyeballing your cooking, Matthew. Fix the girl a plate already.”
As economic in movement as he was in speech, Matthew slapped chicken fried steak before her. A cup of steaming coffee followed.
With the first bite, flaunting rather unladylike grunts of satisfaction, Charlie said, “Dear God, Matthew, I could kiss you.”
Nathaniel chuckled, loving every second of watching his baby brother’s ears turn red.
After she’d devoured the whole damn thing, the eldest asked, “Have you enjoyed sittin’ and lookin’ at things?”
Straightening up as if she hadn’t been practically licking her plate clean, Charlie grinned. “More than I can say.”
He leaned his elbow on the counter, eyes mischievous. “And just what have you been sittin’ and lookin’ at?”
For the next fifteen minutes, she rattled off a list of scenic places she’d discovered—everything from a deep woods swimming hole to the best place to stargaze.
Though he never turned to face her, Matthew listened to each word, darting glances at the engrossed woman’s reflection.
“Lots of deer ‘round these woods. I’ve been thinking of going hunting but…�
�� Her tongue tripped, as if she realized how utterly inappropriate it was for a woman to say such a thing.
Matthew turned from the grill, looking at her like she was nuts. “You hunt?”
Color crawl up Charlie’s face. Reaching for the cup of coffee, she mumbled something unintelligible into the mug.
“Damn, Matthew,” Nathaniel chuckled, rubbing the bullet wound in his shoulder. “We already know she hunts.”
With a polite deadpan, Charlie asked what was owed, put the money on the bar, and left.
“Have fun sittin’ and lookin’,” Nathaniel shouted while Matthew reached across the bar to smack his loud-mouthed brother upside the head.
DESPITE THE ROCKY BEGINNING, lunch at Devil’s Hollow became Charlie’s Saturday ritual. After a week of bland food at the boarding house, she would sit at the counter, bantering with Nathaniel while stuffing her face. When Eli caught on, he too made a point of laughing with Miss Charlie, chatting her up until Matthew would bark at him to get back to work.
It was the same each visit: Nathaniel bleary-eyed, halfway through a jar, Eli doing chores, both boys pleased to see her. Matthew might have spent his time scowling, but he always had a plate of something for her to eat, ready at noon on the dot.
But every week she seemed to say something that set the pleasantness of conversation on its head. Each time she realized her blunder, Charlie’s reaction was always the same: pay and leave.
On her second visit, she asked Nathaniel, “Where’s that pretty dark-haired waitress? What was her name? Alice?”
Matthew stiffened.
Nathaniel sucked his teeth and glanced at Matthew’s back. “She moved on to the city.”
“Which one?” The second Charlie asked, she could have smacked herself. It was obviously a sore subject, and she had just opened her fool mouth for no reason.
“Chicago.” Matthew named the city as if it were flat and unimportant.
And that summed it up right there. Alice had left… and from the gist of the conversation, it seemed she’d left Matthew.