Annie couldn’t look at her. Bits of dried flour stuck to the table and occupied her eyes and her hands to remove it. It was daunting to think of what her aunt may have seen and heard.
“I was a good cook in my day, Annie. Taught you how, didn’t I?”
“Why, yes, but what—”
“Recall the first time you tried making cream gravy?” Annie’s frown annoyed Hortense. “Pay attention, girl. You curdled the cream. Added it too fast, wouldn’t listen worth a dam about needing to keep stirring, and threw it out.”
“Yes, but what has making gravy got to do—”
“Listen up, girl. You’ve been doing the same thing. Stirred up the pot, threw everything in, and forgot to add it all slowly. Now, is Kellian York husband material?”
“I want him to be.” Annie looked up at her. “I think I’m in love with him. I know he has good qualities.”
“Well, if he hasn’t bedded you yet, I’d be inclined to agree.”
“Aunt!”
“Hush, girl. Plain talk’s needed. You’ve got the ladies riled at you, the man running scared so’s he won’t show his face, an’ you mooning about.”
“That about sums it up. But what do you propose that I do?”
“You’ve got it all backward, girl. I’m not the one that needs to do the proposin’. Now, first off, you want the ladies’ help. And this is how you’ll have it. Pay close attention, girl, ’cause I’m not repeatin’ this. At my age it’s hard enough to figure a way to save curdled gravy.”
Annie had to wait until late Saturday afternoon to put her plan into action. She had enlisted the aid of the legion and the doves, but neither group knew of the other one’s contribution until it was too late.
From the crowd of ranch hands and drifters in town, Kell would do a booming business. Since what Annie intended was for the best of causes, she was sure he wouldn’t mind sharing his profits with her.
Across the road leading to his tent a barricade of borrowed tables forced anyone intent on reaching Kell to stop. Within an hour, word spread that there were baked goods for sale, and just as Aunt Hortense had predicted, there wasn’t a man who could resist the luscious array of cakes and cookies the legion had contributed. What Annie never mentioned was that Blossom, Charity, and Ruby had baked right along with her. Their motives were less than pure, for they simply wanted to put a few noses out of joint after the way those women had spoken to Annie.
But Annie wasn’t going to look for worms in the garden that had her cash tin filling with the constant ring of coins. Every dollar spent would be used for good works and would leave a little less for gambling and drinking.
As dusky shadows and nearly empty tables warned Annie it was time to clean up, she noticed the unwelcome return of several ranch hands who were less than sober. Velma and Abigail were the only women left to help her, and once they had moved the tables to the side of the road, folded their cloths, and gathered up empty plates to be returned to their owners, they left Annie alone, fending off the suggestions that she join the men for a drink.
Greed would always get one in trouble, Annie told herself, trying hard to ignore the most persistent of the four men hovering near her. She didn’t know them, but she was sorry now that she had coaxed them with smiles into buying the baked goods.
Pockets had his harmonica out and a lively tune came from the woods behind her, where the road curved. Loud whoops and laughter made Annie cast anxious glances around her. She had three plates filled with the remains of the muffins, cookies, and slices of cakes to juggle along with her cash tin and Aunt Hortense’s second-best tablecloth.
Two of the men drifted off, and she breathed a sigh of relief, only to find that two remained behind. Taking courage in hand, Annie stacked the plates on top of the cloth, tucked her cash tin in the crook of her arm, lifted her tottering burden, and prepared to leave.
But her way was blocked.
Annie eyed the wiry cowhand, arms extended to the sides as if he would crush her in a bear hug the moment she took a step forward.
“Stand aside,” she ordered in her best scolding voice. “You’ve had too much to drink and will be sorry for this in the morning.”
“Sweet thing, you come a little closer an’ ain’t either one of us gonna be sorry ‘bout nothin’.”
“You’ve made a terrible mistake about me. I am not one of the doves.” Annie sidestepped, only to find that he moved with her. She wasn’t truly frightened—not yet, but she was getting there. “You must let me pass. My aunt will be worried if I’m late.”
“Gal, I’m so horny I couldn’t last longer than a cricket in a chicken yard. Have you home in two shakes of a lobo’s tail. So come ’ere to ole Lige an’ give us a kiss.”
“Oh my good Lord!”
“Honey,” said the other man from behind Annie, causing her to spin around and lose the top plate, “that’s what all the gals say when they see Lige.”
Annie backed away. The ruined plate crunched under her shoes, but she had no time to think about it. Thanks to the broadening talk of the doves, she had no trouble understanding what they wanted with her. Not that any woman being stalked by the two of them could have any doubt. There wasn’t a soul around, the noise from the tent would drown any call for help that she made. Think of something, she told herself, angry that fear made her shiver.
“The doves,” she began.
“All got taken. Obie an’ me don’t mind sharin’.”
Annie glanced at the man to her left, big and burly with a neck thick as her thigh. “Obie, you don’t want a woman that is not willing. I’m not willing. I’m not a dove. It’s the evil of drink that clouds your thinking. Take your friend Lige and go sleep it off.”
“Lordy, Obie! You hear that? We got us an all-night gal. Sleepin’s the last thing I’m gonna do.” He lunged for Annie.
She threw the cake and its plate at him. The plate unfortunately missed, but he wore the icing from the cake.
“Why’d’ya do that for? We aim to pay you right.”
“Pay me! You won’t get close enough to do anything to me.” Annie hefted the last plate, a solid stoneware, and let its contents fall. “I’m going home. If either one of you dares to touch me, I’ll clobber you.” Lamplight spilled from the back quarters of Emmaline’s store and beckoned her. Annie looked from one man to the other and started to back away.
She tried to orient herself now that it was nearly impossible to see. Kell’s building site was strewn with obstacles, but she had to stay close to the shell of the building to reach Emmaline’s.
They closed in on either side of her. Annie threw the plate and ran.
She might have made it—she would look back and wonder if the Lord or the devil had intervened—but two shots rang out. The sudden thunder of hoofs was the only warning she had as a group of riders swept out from town, bearing down on her.
Still as a fawn in a thicket, Annie realized too late the new danger she faced. Her pristine white shirtwaist acted as a beacon for the lead rider, who swerved and scooped her up in front of him. She had no seat to speak of, just a hard muscled arm banded around her waist, leaving her legs dangling like a broken rag doll’s. Clutching her cash tin and Aunt Hortense’s tablecloth close to her chest, Annie almost uttered a prayer of relief for her unknown savior, when he landed a sloppily wet kiss on her ear. The fumes of his liquor-foul breath made her catch her own.
She felt herself sliding against the hot, sweaty side of the horse, but the thought of struggling free was impossible with the press of the other horses around her. She squeezed her eyes closed, knowing where they were going and dreading it. A spark of independent spirit resented the need to depend upon Kell for rescue, but she had to counter this with the fear that he might do nothing at all.
Whoops and yells announced their arrival, and Annie’s eyes flew open and her gaze flitted from one startled dove’s face to another before she became aware of the growing silence. There were
at least fifty or more men clustered around the makeshift tables and bar, all slowly turning around to look.
Into the tension-fraught stillness, Daisy’s whispered “Get Kell” was passed from one dove to the other, and Annie found herself sagging with relief that she would not be abandoned.
The men near her dismounted. Annie had her first look at them in the spill of the brightly lit lanterns. From unshaven faces to the worn, dusty clothing and the guns that each wore, there was not anything reassuring about them. No longer denying the need for Kell, she searched the crowd, unaware of the plea in her gaze when she found first Bronc, still as could be with a bottle in hand, then Pockets, who shook his head and disappeared around a high-sided wagon.
Annie tried to swallow and found that she couldn’t. In front of her, a sweet-faced cowboy was dispossessed of his chair near Daisy by one of the men, who grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out with a shove. Hands on gun butts, the other three moved through the crowd toward the bar. Annie felt herself suddenly released and sliding toward the ground on knees that threatened to buckle. But the man dismounted and grabbed hold of her arm in a brutal grip that jerked her upright.
Her cry was so soft, but it carried to Kell as he rounded the back of the wagon and stared in disbelief.
If Annie hadn’t been so frightened, she might have found humor in the way men looked from Kell to her captor and backed away. Her arm was numb from the man’s tightened grip holding her by his side. She shot a quick look toward Bronc. One of the men held a gun on him, and the other two stood on either side of him, guns drawn and facing the crowd. Her gaze snapped back to where Kell stood unarmed, but when her eyes met his, a chill made her tremble. He looked ready to kill.
Daisy tried to stand, but she too, was forced to remain in place by the man at her side. He did nothing to stop the other ranch hands at the table from getting up and backing off to the waiting crowd.
It was then that Annie noticed none of the men who had been drinking and gambling was armed.
“Take a bottle and leave,” Kell softly intoned. “If you five plan to stay, the guns go.”
“No one takes Noe Hillerman’s gun.”
“Then you leave,” Kell answered, his voice husky. Despite his determination to avoid trouble if he could, his body was responding to the sight of Annie—the subtle fire shades of her hair tumbling free over one shoulder, the too bright blue eyes, the tear at her lace-edged neckline revealing a patch of creamy skin.
“I’m not a patient man,” Kell added, his voice roughened by the heated racing of his blood. She was his, and the thought of any other man’s hands on her blinded him with a rage he was fast losing control over. He wanted her, and only the whisper of Li’s voice urging caution from behind the wagon stopped him from rushing forward to the certainty of a bullet.
Li was right. He had dealt with his share of men like Hillerman—too old to be called a boy and excused but far too undisciplined to be called a man. Hillerman’s friends at the bar egged him on with a string of coarse comments that made the doves wince—and they had heard it all. Annie was struggling, trying to unlock the thick fingers Hillerman had around her arm.
Kell waited, knowing what he had to do. Every second brought a change to the world around him. Li’s lessons to allow time to stretch while he freed himself were accomplished in seconds. He moved forward, leaning over to grab a half-empty bottle from a table, and without warning he tossed it to Hillerman.
In a reflex as old as time, Hillerman made a grab for the bottle and freed Annie. She didn’t need Kell’s quiet order to run, she managed a few steps before Pockets was there to hold her.
The man sitting next to Daisy rose, his gun aimed at Kell, just as he launched himself at the two men. Annie screamed a warning, fear for Kell blocking out Pocket’s reassurance that Li and Bronc were helping.
Kell’s hand flashed out and the man’s gun went spinning. Another blow from Kell had the man grabbing his arm with a cry of pain. Hillerman rushed forward, ready to crush Kell with his thick hands, but Kell’s foot lashed up and out, catching Hillerman’s chest to stop him. The blow left the man swaying where he stood, shock visible before a roar of rage exploded and he lunged at Kell.
With a speed and coordination that left Annie stunned, Kell sent Hillerman crashing into the nearest table, glasses and bottle tumbling to the ground. Kell’s moves were too fast for her to separate them. Only the results were visible: both Hillerman and his friend were disarmed and down. It was only then that Annie dragged her gaze away to see that Bronc held one of the men up by his shirtfront, delivering short jabs to his dough-soft belly, while Li was already holding another by the seat of his pants and shirt to toss him outside the tent.
Hillerman managed to get up on his knees, only to fall forward gagging. Kell grabbed hold of the other man near him and lifted him to his feet in a single motion. It was only Kell’s grip on his shirtfront that kept the man standing.
“Take your friends and get out. Don’t bother coming back. Gentlemen don’t assault the ladies in Loving. Do I make myself clear?” Soft, ever so soft was his voice, but every man there heard the threat implied. “Bronc,” he called, “clean this scum out.”
“Gladly, Boss.”
“Then serve a round of drinks on the house.” Kell waited a few moments while the men returned to the tables, voices subdued, speculation bright in eyes watching Kell, then Li as both men converged on where Annie stood with Pockets.
“Get Cammy to sing, Pockets.”
“Sure thing.” He slid his harmonica out of his vest pocket and waved it at Cammy.
Bronc already had three of the men on their horses when other men moved to remove Hillerman and the last man. Slaps to the horses’ rumps and a few yells sent the five on their way, and it was then that Li spoke.
“I’ll take Annie home.”
“No,” Kell snapped.
Annie looked at him. Shock upon shock had shaken her this night, but what she saw in Kell’s eyes sent yet another, more feminine awareness of the danger he presented rippling through her.
“Damn fine piece of fighting, Kell. Let me buy you a round.”
Without taking his gaze from Annie, Kell refused. “Buy the drink for Li, Denley.” With no more than that, he snared Annie’s arm with one hand and ushered her outside the tent to where horses were tied.
“Take mine, Kell,” Denley called out.
“Kell,” Annie ventured, sensing that he wouldn’t listen, but needing to try. “Please let Li take me home.”
“No way.”
The horses had been standing quietly until Kell approached. Their snorts and restless stampings were the result of the tension she felt pouring from him.
“I’ve never seen a man fight like that. The callus on your hand and Li’s—”
“What about it?” he snapped, facing her.
“I couldn’t help but notice them. I wanted to ask. I … please, Kell, this wasn’t my fault. I was going to go home. Two men came back from here and they were drunk. They tried to—”
“Not another damned word, Muldoon.” Kell tore the reins free of someone’s horse and backed the animal out of the line.
“Muldoon? You only call me that when you’re angry with me. You have no right. Do you hear me, Mr. York? No right to blame me for what happened. It’s you and the damn liquor you sell that makes men behave like animals!”
He dropped the reins and dragged her close so quickly that Annie barely had time to catch her breath. Heat and tension from his hands melded and spread inside her. She couldn’t see him clearly, his upper body and face were shadowed, but there was an escalating sense of danger that had her trembling.
“Kell?”
He shook her none too gently. “Quiet, Annie. Just once. You think liquor’s needed to make a man forget all the fancy rules of behavior you’d like governing your safe little world? Wrong. Do you know,” he grated from between clenched teeth, “what
it did to me to see you mauled?” His fingers tightened and he shook her again. “Do you?”
“N-no. I … c-couldn’t. I was frightened.”
“You haven’t got the good sense to be frightened.” One more shake and he saw the last pins securing her hair fall. Kell couldn’t stop himself. He caught up the fiery mess of her hair and drew her head back, lowering his until his mouth was nearly touching hers. “I’ve tried to stay away from you. I—”
“Why, Kell? Why?”
“If you need to ask, you prove you haven’t any sense. You should be running, darlin’. Running like hell away from me.”
He felt as well as heard the startled intake of her breath. Beneath his thumbs her pulse was a rapid beat that made his body tighten in a wild, sweeping rush, one that happened only when he was near Annie.
Kell took her mouth in a fierce, devouring kiss meant to punish and warn. But Annie only knew that barely contained passion was added to the tension and the danger consuming her with a raw sensuality she couldn’t fight, didn’t even attempt to stop.
She felt a vague tremor coursing through his body find an answering response in her own. The tin she still clutched pressed painfully against her breast as he deepened the kiss, but nothing mattered except Kell and the wild hunger that shimmered inside her.
As quickly as he had begun it, Kell abruptly ended the kiss, his hand still tangled in her hair. “You haven’t got the self-preservation instincts of a week-old kitten.” The whiskey-tinged warmth of his breath stirred over her hair, fanned her flushed face, but Annie couldn’t look away from him.
“Maybe I don’t want them.”
His hand slid slowly down the curve of her neck, caressing her shoulder before he cupped her breast, where the wild rhythm of her heart beat in tandem with his. “You don’t know what the hell you want, Annie.” His voice was thick with the roil of passion coursing through him. “But I do.”
The promise in his voice coupled with the intimate touch of his hand on her breast, finally broke the spell she had been under and Annie stumbled back, to find the horse behind her.
Darling Annie Page 20