Anthology - BIG SKY GROOMS

by DAVIDSON, Carolyn. MALLERY, Susan. WILLIAMS, Bronwyn (in) Montana Mavericks

  “Phooey!” she said in an inelegant burst of disgust. “You know very well I was already in the clear had those men managed to escape with the stagecoach.”

  He looked pained. “Now that wasn’t what you said right out there in the street in front of half the town. You thanked me very kindly for coming to your rescue.”

  She had the grace to acknowledge his thrust. “So I did. But then I was understandably upset by the circumstances.”

  His mouth twitched and she caught a glint of humor in his eyes. “You won’t think it’s so funny when they pin that badge on your chest,” she said, relishing the clenching of his jaw.

  “Being the sheriff is not my plan.”

  “So you said. It might interfere with your career, I suppose,” she offered softly, enjoying his defensive stance, hands on hips and jaw thrust forward.

  His brow rose. “My career?”

  “Why, yes,” she told him casually. “Didn’t you say you were very good at drinking and gambling? I assumed that you wouldn’t give those up in favor of such a mundane job as sheriff.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Of course, there’s always the possibility that staying out of the saloon might not be an option for you.”

  His jaw clenched tighter and was stained with a ruddy hue. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’ve had only limited experience with drunkards, sir, but from what I understand, once a man is addicted to that particular vice, there isn’t much hope of staying clear of a whiskey bottle.”

  “I’m not addicted to anything,” he boomed.

  “So you say,” she answered, doubt alive in her tone.

  His eyes narrowed and he advanced one step. “There’s only one thing I can’t seem to stay away from, Miss Schoolmarm.”

  She scooted back, her legs pressing against a student desk. He’d turned from amiable to angry in one swift moment. Perhaps she’d pressed too hard, allowed her sharp tongue to touch him in a raw spot. “I’m sure you keep yourself under perfect control, sir,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on his flaring nostrils and taut lips.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what my downfall is?” he murmured.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “Women,” he growled. “I can’t seem to stay away from women.” His hands reached for her and she yelped, a shrill sound that creased his forehead with its velocity. “My head was aching before I got here, and you’re making it worse with your noise. Don’t know any other way to shut you up, I suppose. At least not one that works as well as this.”

  She felt her eyes widen as his head dipped in her direction. His hands clasped her upper arms and he drew her against his lean, hard length. Heat surrounded her, throbbing throughout her body, sending warmth to her every part as he lifted her from the floor. Heavy-lidded eyes swept her face, and his head tilted to one side. She caught a scent of soap as she inhaled, something fresh and cool in her nostrils. His mouth brushed hers, and she shivered, anticipating the harsh, punishing force of his lips.

  It was not to be. Gently, carefully, he eased her lips apart just the least bit with the pressure of his mouth. She heard her moan of fear, knew when it turned to a whisper of amazement, and then, in an automatic gesture she lifted her hands to clutch at his shoulders. His grip eased and he lowered her to the floor, his moustache soft against her lips. She clenched her teeth, trembling in his grip, shivering as his tongue tasted the inside of her lower lip.

  Her eyes opened wide and she stepped back, gasping a bit as he lifted his head.

  “Kate.” His mouth was twisted ruefully, his eyes were dark with an emotion she could not name, and he leaned forward to touch those warm lips against her forehead. “I offer my apologies. That was beyond good behavior. I don’t usually insult a lady right off the bat.”

  She shook her head. “I was unkind, Mr. Kincaid, with my remarks about your drinking habits. I should not have judged you so quickly, although now you’ve given me even more valid reason to doubt your ability to behave yourself.”

  “So I have,” he agreed amiably. “You wouldn’t be the first good citizen to call me a ne’er-do-well,” he said with a shrug. “But—” he paused and allowed a grin to curl his mouth “—if you’re interested, I’m still available to walk you to the Mercantile.”

  Her heart stilled for a long moment and something within her sounded a warning. James Kincaid might do her more harm than good. He was a rascal, bone-deep and to the core. But he’d just given her the first taste of passion she’d ever known, and for the first time in her life, she saw and recognized Eve’s apple, and felt a shaft of understanding for that hapless female.

  THE MERCANTILE was busy, with what James recognized as the “Saturday crowd” in attendance. Farmers brought their wives along, and youngsters gazed with longing eyes at the display of candy, lined up in tall jars on the counter like so many tin soldiers.

  John Dillard and his wife, Tess, scurried back and forth behind the long counter that ran along the back of the store. They lifted merchandise from the shelves for their customers’ perusal, offered their opinions on a variety of subjects, and then when the final calculations were done, accepted money from the customers. Several apparently bought on credit, Kate noticed, watching as Tess Dillard added a long column of figures on brown paper and then wrote the total on a page in her black account book.

  John Dillard looked across the width of his store and nodded his head at Kate, then lifted his brow in a questioning gesture as he spotted James next to her. “You ready to wear that badge yet, James?” he called jovially. The man with him followed his lead and surveyed James silently, then with a slow shake of his head, turned away.

  “Apparently Clovis Teal doesn’t think I’m sheriff material,” James said in an undertone, bending so that Kate could hear his comment.

  She felt irritation clawing at her, and cast her own glance at the man in question. “What does he know about your qualifications?” she murmured. “He obviously didn’t see you shoot those ruffians yesterday.”

  “A man who can shoot straight probably isn’t all they’re looking to find,” James told her. “You said yourself that I wasn’t much more than a drunken gambler.”

  “I didn’t.” The words were low, terse and loaded with as much denial as Kate could fuel them with. “You’d be good at…” She hesitated, unwilling to state an untruth. “You could probably—”

  “Yeah, maybe I could,” he interjected quickly, and she untangled her tongue. His long fingers picked up a piece of dress goods that was folded on the counter in front of him. “This’d look nice on you,” he told her, holding it against her bodice, tilting his head to one side to consider the effect of blue-flowered dimity beneath her chin.

  “You could what?” she persisted with a frown, her mind on his qualifications.

  “What you said.”

  Her sigh was exasperated as he placed the fabric back on the counter and picked up another, with shades of deep-rose and pink on a white background. His mouth drew together and he shook his head. “Naw, the blue’s better. You’re too…”

  “Too what?” she demanded, looking down at the discarded material. “I look good in pink.”

  “Maybe,” he said easily. “Red would be better, more lively. Pink’s kinda girlie.”

  “I am a girl,” she reminded him, and drew his immediate scrutiny.

  His eyes were sparkling, his mouth turned up in a grin that begged her response. “No, ma’am,” he answered slowly and quietly. “You’re a woman. There’s no doubt about that.” He watched as she felt a flush settle on her cheeks, warming her skin.

  “Those pieces of fabric are already set aside for Millie Carlton,” Tess Dillard said from across the counter. She scooped up the folded material and placed it next to the big, iron register. “She’s pickin’ out some findings to go with them.”

  “I already told Miss Elliott that the pink wasn’t her color,” James said cheerfully.

  “What i
s her color?” Tess asked with a grin. Obviously James was on good terms with the storekeeper’s wife, Kate thought. The woman turned to Kate and her eyes carried a hint of recognition. “I saw you yesterday, when you got dumped in the road,” she said quickly. “Are you recovered from your fall?”

  Kate nodded. “I’m fine, thank you. I just came by to pick up some supplies this morning.”

  “You looking for a piece of dress goods?” Tess asked. “I’ve got some pretty green fabric on sale, and some ready-made things, too. Maybe the green would look better than the pink, at that. Are you one to do your own sewing?”

  Kate felt flustered as several other ladies turned her way, obviously waiting for her reply. “Not today, thanks,” she answered quietly. “I just need a few things for meals.”

  “Some folks will invite you for supper a couple of times a week,” Tess offered. “If they’d known there was a woman comin’ instead of a man teacher, they’d have arranged for you to stay in the homes of those who send their young’uns to school. You know, a month here, then another there.”

  Kate subdued the shudder that held her in its grip. That she would be shuffled from one house to another over the school year was unthinkable. “I’m very happy with the room behind the school,” she said quickly. “I can cook on the woodburner, so long as there’s a pot there and a skillet.”

  “You’ll need a coffeepot,” Tess said. “They didn’t outfit the place. I guess they thought they’d just wait till the teacher showed up.”

  Kate thought of the money she’d brought with her. Fitting out a kitchen had not been in her plans. But then, she’d been a bit short on plans of any sort when she left Ohio. Only anxious to see the last of small-town folks with long memories, eager to begin again where she was unknown.

  “I’ll take a small skillet and a two-quart kettle,” she said. “If you have a small teakettle, that would be fine. I can brew tea in a cup.”

  James stepped back, leaving the women to their planning and Kate felt lost for a moment. And then a small, golden-haired creature with eyes as blue as a summer sky stepped up beside her.

  “I’m Lizzy,” she confided. “Will told me about you.”

  “Will?” Kate’s mind raced. Will? The banker? James’s cousin?

  Lizzy flushed becomingly. “He’s my husband,” she said, pride in every syllable. “He told me about the ruffians who pulled you out of the stagecoach.” Her voice lowered as she bent close to whisper in Kate’s ear. “I also heard that Will’s cousin walked you over to the new schoolhouse.” She stood erect and looked around the store, then whispered again. “Did you come in here with him?”

  Kate nodded. “He offered to escort me, and carry my packages home for me.”

  “Will says that James is a scoundrel.” Lizzy’s cheeks were pink and her golden curls bounced as she nodded. “He likes him, you understand, but he says James may not be the best man for you to acknowledge as a friend.”

  “Will is probably right,” Kate said agreeably. “But at the moment, James is also the only person besides yourself and the storekeeper’s wife who’s done much to welcome me to town.”

  “You got your stuff together, Kate?” James was behind her, his voice gruff, and Kate turned quickly, wondering just how much he’d overheard. He nodded to Lizzy, tipping his hat in a courtly manner, then looked past Kate to where only the bare essentials she’d enumerated to Tess waited.

  “I just have to get a few things,” she said. “You can go on if you need to, Mr. Kincaid. I can handle this.”

  “I brought you here and I told you I’d carry your stuff back home for you,” he told her. “I’m above all things a man who keeps his word. Take your time.”

  “Oh, my,” Lizzy breathed in a wispy undertone. “He is a handsome one, isn’t he? No matter what Will says,” she added in a whisper and a quick glance at Kate.

  Kate watched the tall, broad-shouldered figure amble across the store and her heart stuttered in her chest. “My mama would think so,” she admitted.

  And so do I, her honest heart agreed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE MEN WHO GATHERED in the churchyard to meet with Kate after Sunday morning service looked familiar. She recognized the storekeeper, of course, and nodded, greeting him by name.

  “Mr. Dillard.” She smiled politely, forcing her lips into a steady line.

  “You remember Amos Carlton, don’t you, Miss Elliott? He owns the hotel, he and his wife.” John Dillard presented another gentleman. “And this here is Harry Talbert, the fella that owns the barbershop.” He looked behind himself and motioned at a familiar figure. “Come on over here, Will. We need to have a word with Miss Elliott.”

  Will Kincaid moved reluctantly into the circle and nodded at Kate. Behind him, Lizzy stood waiting, and she raised her hand, fingers wagging a greeting in Kate’s direction.

  “Miss Elliott.” Will offered his hand and she placed hers on his palm. His grip was warm and solid and she met it with a firmness he could not mistake. A reluctant smile curved his mouth and she was struck with his resemblance to James. And why not? They were cousins, after all.

  “We only received news that the state board had hired us a woman a day before you arrived,” Amos Carlton said. His tone was apologetic and Kate smiled reassuringly, urging him to continue. “We’d expected a man, and so built the new schoolhouse to accommodate a gentleman. If we’d known ahead of time that our first choice was not available—”

  “I know,” Kate interrupted cheerfully. “You’d have shunted me off to one student’s home or another, rather than give me the privacy of a place of my own.”

  Will cleared his throat and Kate turned to him expectantly as he spoke. “Surely you understand the position this puts you in, Miss Elliott. The parents of your students might not approve of you, being an unmarried woman living alone on the edge of town.” He looked as though his shirt collar was suddenly too tight, Kate thought.

  “And may I ask why it should concern anyone as to where I live?” she asked. And then proceeded to state her case. “Gentlemen, we are very near to the twentieth century. Surely you are men of intelligence, and farsighted enough to realize that women are gradually going to come into their own. I thought, from what I had read in books and periodicals, that Montana was the most liberal state in the union, so far as the rights of women are concerned.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Carlton answered. “That’s all true, but you have to understand that this is a small town and folks are pretty rigid in their standards of behavior.”

  Kate pushed her glasses up her nose and viewed the men surrounding her with a discerning eye. “As am I, gentlemen. I have the highest standards….” Except that I’ve made it my business to become a friend of the town’s bad boy. She cleared her throat. “If you read my qualifications, I’m sure you will recognize that I am of good character and ably suited for the position of teacher to the children of this community.”

  “There’s no question of your character, Miss Elliott,” Will said staunchly. And yet his eyes held a modicum of doubt, Kate decided. Due no doubt to James’s shenanigans in the Mercantile on Saturday morning.

  Holding up yardgoods in front of her, as if he measured her for a dress, and then making a big fuss over the bundles of foodstuffs she’d purchased, staggering under the load he carried. She’d stalked out the door ahead of him, leaving him to find his own way back to the schoolhouse, her own hands filled with the assortment of dishes and cooking utensils she’d found it necessary to purchase.

  And now she would pay the price for James and his foolishness.

  Lizzy Kincaid stepped forward to stand beside her husband. “I think that Miss Elliott will make a fine teacher for the children. And I hope she’ll still be here when I have young ones old enough to sit in her schoolroom.” Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, and Will looked down at her.

  “That may be several years in the future,” he reminded Lizzy, and then, as if to soften his words, he reached out one long ar
m to place his hand atop her shoulder.

  Lizzy’s eyes filled with quick tears. “I just think it’s mean for four men to gang up on a young lady. It’s not her fault she isn’t a man.”

  Kate felt a laugh bubble from her throat and she swallowed it. Levity was not going to help her case this morning. “What would you gentlemen suggest we do to rectify this situation?” she asked politely, shooting an appreciative look in Lizzy’s direction.

  “Well…” Mr. Talbert uttered the single word, then hesitated. “I think we oughta let things stand as they are for now,” he suggested mildly. “I’d say Miss Elliott is pretty well able to take care of herself, and she’s not gonna be living clear down the road. If she’s in need of help, there’s any number of folks who would be glad to lend a hand.”

  John Dillard nodded reluctantly. “I don’t suppose we have much choice for now. However, if a man qualified for the position becomes available, we may have to rethink our decision.”

  Kate fumed. There was no other word for the churning maelstrom that set her insides to quivering. With an effort that included a set jaw and clenched fists, she stepped back from the circle of men. “Well, unless there is something else important you wanted to discuss with me, gentlemen, I’ll be on my way. I’d suggest that you pass the word around town that school will be in session tomorrow morning.”

  She turned from the small group, aware suddenly that a clutch of townsfolk stood within hearing distance, and were busily taking her measure. It was enough to make a body downright daring, she decided, and turned back to the gathering of influential gentleman who had so kindly decided she would be allowed to live in the stark, unadorned room they’d tacked on behind their schoolhouse.

  “I’d like your permission to order some writing tablets and an assortment of pens and pencils for my students. Also a chalkboard to be hung on the wall and a supply of chalk and erasers. I’ll expect each pupil to have his or her own slate and we’ll make do with those until school supplies arrive.” Even to her own ears her voice was imperious, and she gloried in the discovery that every eye was on her, the women looking downright approving, most of them nodding their agreement.