When the door closed behind him, Elise walked to the window and watched his determined stride take him back to the corral. The men lazed around smoking and talking, except for McCucheon, whose whip cracked and popped in the morning air.
Chapter Ten
At Miss Bonnie's Boutique, Elise submitted to the endless shiftings and fittings of Dusty Flats's only seamstress.
"I hadn't heard 'bout T.K. fixing to take a wife until all that fabric arrived from Abilene. It's not every woman in these parts gits that kind of attention. I've had to put on extra help. My cousin, as it were. Couldn't do all of it by myself, especially since T.K. wants it done in two weeks." She chuckled. "He's ridin' a big hurry. 'Course, pretty as you are, I can see why. Where'd you say you was from?"
"Close to Boggy Creek."
Mumbling through a mouthful of pins, Bonnie leaned back to put an eye on the hem length. "Never been up there myself, but my brother used to live close to Adobe Wells. That's not too far."
Elise threw a sideways glance at Bonnie, and the churning in her midsection that she'd had all week started again. "I've heard of it."
With a groan, Bonnie stood and stretched her back. "T.K. said to look for him at twelve. It's about that now."
"The dresses are beautiful." Elise studied the rows of delicate laces, grateful her papa had never insisted she learn the bone-crushing tedium of crochet and embroidery. "I'll get into my clothes. We're having lunch at the hotel."
"Only place in town to eat."
Halfway through her dressing, Elise heard T.K.'s big voice and hastily smoothed back her hair, willing it to stay in the bun T.K. usually frowned at or pointedly ignored. She walked out, wondering if her blouse was tucked in and all her buttons secure.
T.K. rose and turned to the dressmaker. "When you're finished with Miss DuBois's clothes, send word, Bonnie, and I'll have a man pick them up." He moved his hat from one hand to the other. "Hungry, Lee?"
"No."
He frowned. "I am. Thought we'd have a beefsteak."
Beefsteak for lunch. Elise couldn't think of anything she wanted less, but she wouldn't quibble with a cattleman.
On the street, he took her arm. "Lots of people in town. Hope the restaurant isn't crowded."
But the dining room was full and they had to wait to be seated. Elise had hardly sat down before she heard a female voice calling T.K.'s name. The woman undulated through the chairs and tables, gracefully holding aside her purple taffeta skirt.
She drew near enough to lift a cheek for T.K.'s kiss and to give him a peck in return, murmuring all the while about how she hadn't expected to see him that day.
"T.K., you handsome rascal."
Elise almost gagged. The woman's throaty whisper oozed over him like molasses on flapjacks, and Elise, suppressing the urge to kick the table leg, reviewed her options to get even with the so-called handsome rascal after she'd scratched the woman's eyes out.
T.K. looked from one woman to the other. "Lee, meet Maggie Cook. Maggie, my future wife, Lee DuBois.
Not waiting for an invitation, Maggie sat down. She rustled her voluminous skirt and nodded, willing a smile that didn't include her eyes. "Somehow I had pictured you differently."
The waiter jostled her elbow, and Elise was spared from answering. Just as well, since she couldn't imagine what she would have responded to the inane greeting. She found herself following the flash of the woman's rings, one on each finger of a very white and very languid hand.
"Lee's here to get fitted for some clothes."
Maggie appeared less than enthralled. "How lovely." She turned the full force of her wide-eyed attention back to T.K. "When is the wedding?"
Feeling anything but included, Elise spoke dryly. "Two weeks and three days from tonight. We hope you can come. Everybody but Comanche warriors and hide hunters is invited."
With the barest hint of a nod, Maggie acknowledged she had heard, then purring, she turned a dazzling smile on T.K. "I'll miss seeing you around, T.K."
"You'll get used to it," Elise said crisply, glancing briefly at T.K. He was grinning. She tapped an impatient foot. She and T.K. Burke needed to talk about Maggie Cook.
Elise ate to the sound of Maggie's musical laughter and T.K.'s humorous forbearance. Stealing quick glimpses of him, Elise was startled when T.K. abruptly swiveled to look over her head. He tossed his napkin to the table. "There's a man I've been wanting to see."
He was already out of the chair before he remembered and turned to Lee. "Will you be all right, honey?"
"I'll see to your bride, T.K.," Maggie gushed.
Apologetically, T.K. glanced at Elise. "I really need to see this man."
Elise shackled her anger between clenched teeth. He was deliberately ducking out of an uncomfortable situation. "I'll be fine." She considered telling them both exactly where she stood when Maggie waggled a finger at him.
"Already leaving your bride, T.K. I must talk to you about that."
"Don't bother, Miss Cook. I can assure you I will talk to him about that. In the meantime, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." She was talking to his retreating back.
"I'm sure you are," Maggie said slyly, "but where would you go?"
Maggie's patronizing left Elise fuming, but she could hardly refuse the invitation. As Maggie said, where would she go? Five minutes later, she found herself above the saloon in Maggie Cook's elaborately decorated apartment.
With a hand on her hip, Maggie looked over her shoulder. "T.K. and I have been friends for a very long time."
"He may have mentioned it," Elise said indifferently.
Maggie's thin black brows drew together. "Are you in love with him? I'm asking as his friend."
Like having a fox in the henhouse, Elise thought grimly. "I care enough to want to be his wife."
"There's more to being a wife than wearing a ring."
The situation had become slippery, and it wasn't difficult to see that Maggie was bating her. How much did the woman know? About Toddie and Patrick? About T.K. and herself?
"Speaking from observation or experience, Miss Cook?"
Maggie's eyes narrowed. "I'm not married. Now if you'll excuse me, I have business in the saloon."
Elise feigned surprise. "My goodness."
"I own it."
"Oh."
With Maggie's exit, Elise took note of the room, the superabundance of mirrors, knickknacks, and gewgaws. A busy enough place, she thought, then plopped into a chair. No doubt T.K. visited often.
She picked a deck of cards from the table, riffled them, fluttered them up her arm, then with a deft twist of her wrist, let them slide back into her hand. Hearing the swoosh and whisper of the cards was somehow comforting, reminding her of her papa.
"If you want to confound your opponent," he had opined, "show such dexterity in shuffling the cards that your opponent will indulge your ostentation and perhaps be overly cautious or outrageously reckless, either of which can work to your advantage."
After riffling them several more times, she dropped the cards and leaned back in the chair, unprepared for the man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. One moment he was in the room; the next he was standing beside her.
"You must be Maggie's new dealer."
Startled, Elise looked up at the apparition, seeking the face behind the hirsute visage. Two laughing eyes stared back at her. "No," she said in her primest voice, "I'm not. If you're looking for Miss Cook, she's downstairs."
He lounged in the chair opposite her. "No hurry. What's your name, pretty woman? And what are you doing in Maggie Cook's parlor? Or need I ask?"
"I'm not sure of the nature of your question, Mr. Whoever-you-are, but if you must know, I'm Lee DuBois. I'm waiting here for my fiance, Mr. T.K. Burke."
A puzzled look replaced the glint in his eyes. Then he exploded. He slapped his thigh. He howled. He ran around in circles. Then chortling, he settled down enough to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and wipe his eyes. "Glad to know you, Lee DuBois."
Elsie was convinced she confronted a madman. "I never realized my name was so funny."
"It's a pretty name."
She sat a little straighter. "Then what's so humorous?"
His laughter disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Miss DuBois, I'm sorry as hell. Actually, I was reminded of something quite funny. But no matter. Do you live in Dusty Flats?"
She shook her head irritably. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm living at the Lazy B Ranch. Mr. Burke and I plan to marry in a couple of weeks."
"Congratulations."
"Properly, one congratulates the groom."
He grinned at her. "And I certainly do." He reached for the deck of cards. "Care for a game, Lee?"
"No, thank you."
"I know you play. I saw how you handle cards. You do some fancy shuffling."
"I never play cards with strangers."
"Black Jack Jim Poker. Call me Jack or Jim."
"I won't call you at all."
"Hey, that's not fair." His lips twitched. "I'll bet the real reason is you're afraid you'll lose."
Elise gave up. A few hands would break the monotony of waiting. "I'm not afraid I'll lose. To prove it, I'll play. Three hands, no more."
''And the wager?"
She shrugged. "I've no money with me."
He looked at her shrewdly. "A wedding gift against your widest and most beautiful smile, provided we should ever meet again."
"Since it isn't likely, why not?"
"Cut for deal, Lee," he said, suddenly all business.
Elise cut deep and turned over a jack of spades. The man placed a jack of clubs beside it.
They cut again and Elise drew the deal. She dealt a down card and topped it with one up. Her queen of diamonds beat his ten of diamonds. She gave him a second card, a red eight, then flipped over a black nine for herself. Three cards later, Elise took the hand with two nines. Her rival won the following one with a pair of aces.
"The next hand decides the winner, Lee, and it's my deal." He stretched his long legs, then settled back to shuffle the cards. He slapped them on the table for her to cut.
Elise raised her first card enough to know it was a six. She groaned. Her next card was a seven.
When her opponent chuckled, she was struck by the notion she had heard that laugh before. Impossible, of course. Curious, she wondered what the man was to Maggie Cook. Friend? Lover? Brother? She'd bet the fatted calf they weren't related.
She searched his face while he studied his next two cards. Ruthless, spoiled, tense. Selfish mouth, thin smile. Wearing a predatory grin that would have shamed a coyote, he dealt the last up card for each of them, and with the wary insight of a card player, Elise knew she would lose. The trick was an old one, obvious and performed clumsily. She could have done better at ten years old.
She'd had no reason to like the man. She did, however, have a definite reason to dislike him. Nor would the ridiculous wager present a problem since she'd never see him again.
What would his wedding present have been, if he had lost? Not that he was in danger of losing as long as he had the deal.
Elise shot upright. Jack or Jim Poker had intended she see his sleight of hand, as though they shared some big, hilarious secret.
A week remained before the wedding and the Lazy B had become an overactive anthill. Along with everyone else, Elise hurried from one chore to another, directed by an imperious Vesper, whose unflinching self-confidence brooked no disagreement.
"If I waits on the likes of y'all people to act, this weddin' wouldn't never take place. And that'd be a pity."
More than happy to let Vesper make the decisions, Elise followed instructions like the rest. T.K., exploiting every man's prerogative to do as he pleased, spent most of his waking hours away from the ranch house, so she seldom saw him except over the dinner table.
Once he caught her in the garden. Her skirts were pulled up around her thighs, while she emptied sand from her shoes. He took his time looking at her bare legs, then squatted on his heel beside her.
"Mac's searching for the hide hunters. He'll find them."
Elise tugged at her dress. She gave a yank and saw it snagged under his boot. She tried to stand and got as far as her knees. "He shouldn't do it on my account."
Looking directly into her face, he didn't move. His gaze traced the outline of her throat, slid up her cheek to meet her eyes, and came full stop at her mouth. "You don't understand."
She grasped her skirt and pulled. "Understand what?"
"I'd like to kill them," he said, lifting his foot.
Elise sprawled on her back. "I wasn't injured."
"That's not their fault. Anyway, Mac will let me know." He placed a knee on the ground and leaned forward to kiss her. "I'd like to pin a medal on the Comanch'."
When he got to his feet and walked away, Elise braced herself on her elbow and stared after him. She was stunned. He had believed her explanation of the Good Samaritan Indian after all.
She thought of T.K.'s words off and on all day. She didn't have a medal for Red Man, but she could keep the promise she had made him. Toward nightfall, she drew out her charcoal and sketched the Comanche's lithe, muscular body relaxed astride his spotted horse. With a few strokes, she outlined his face, then added high cheekbones and piercing eyes. At another time, she would have used oils to capture his strength and power.
On impulse, she drew a woman in a Comanche dress, her hand raised in the Indian gesture of friendship. Behind her, a mountain cat. Then she chose a time Vesper was busy in the kitchen and deposited the sketches in the cottonwood.
Chapter Eleven
T.K. breathed in the familiar smells of the barn: new leather, animal sweat, manure, old hay. He ducked under the straps and bridles slung over a beam to the saddles and stirrups. He could hear the cowpunchers perched on the corral fence hoo-rawing and yelling instructions at the broncobuster risking his neck to stay on the back of a wild mustang.
His mind sprinted ahead to MacCucheon, one of the best men he had ever seen with animals, especially horses. Mac seldom strayed far from his horse and his whip. His gun was always handy on his hip. Only a direct order had prevented MacCucheon from taking action against the hide hunters who had attacked Lee at Frenchman's Crossing.
"Find them," T.K. had told him. "Then report back. I'll take it from there."
Outside the barn, T.K. blinked into the morning sun. No more than ten feet away, Lee was immersed in the drama of the bolting horse and the man clinging to its back. At each leap and twist, her oohs and ahs errupted on little puffs of breath. In her arms, a squirming Toddie seemed determined to climb the fence.
Mesmerized, T.K. stared at the woman and the boy. She held the child's black curls close to her own honey-amber hair. Without words and stunned by the sight, T.K. could no more move his feet than his eyes. He was so near to realizing a dream that he had come so close to losing.
She laughed self-consciously, as if she could read his face and wasn't quite sure of what she should say. "I wonder if I'll ever look on bucking horses as a sport." A frown deepened her dimples. "I hope you aren't planning to ride that monster?"
"Being the boss frees me from riding monsters anymore." Smiling, he held out his arms for Toddie and kissed his cheek. "You've got a couple of years before you can have your own pony, boy."
"But at three years old, he'll still be a baby."
"Little boys grow up to be big boys." T.K. gently caressed Toddie. "And they have to know how to ride." He turned his attention to a speck growing on the horizon, a horse and rider at full gallop, bearing down on the corral. "Look's like MacCucheon made it back."
Arriving in a whirlwind of dust, MacCucheon brought his horse to a head-tossing stop. He swung from the saddle, lifted his hat in greeting, and waited for T.K. to approach. His usual low voice became even lower. "They've got a wagon load of hides and are fixing to ford Frenchman's Ford in about an hour 'n a half."
"Well, in about an hour and
a half, we'll head out to meet them."
T.K. returned to where Lee sat atop the fence. He spoke offhandedly, not wanting to alarm her. "You'll have to ride herd on the maverick." He ruffled Toddie's curls. "Something's happened over in the pasture."
At once interested, she jumped to the ground. "What's happened?"
"Trespassers, according to Mac."
"I thought Indians were the only trespassers on the Lazy B."
"Usually Indians, all right. We'll take a look to be sure."
When he handed Toddie to her, she surprised him by lifting her face. He kissed her and would have again but she shifted Toddie to her other arm. His glance fell on the green ribbon in her hair, and he wanted to untie it. She must have read his mind because she tugged it loose, and her hair, free to blow, mussed in the wind.
His gaze wandered to the smudges under her eyes. "Had trouble sleeping?"
"A little," she acknowledged, then laughed at his frown. "But not all that bad."
"Try to put the ordeal with the buffalo hunters out of your mind. I can promise you they'll never threaten you again."
He told them good-bye and at the top of the rise turned to wave, but Elise walked toward the kitchen door, her back to him. He gave a self-disparaging humph and kneed his horse into a trot.
T.K. and MacCucheon rode the six miles to Frenchman's Ford, sometimes putting their horses at a gallop, other times slowing them to rest.
Soft-spoken as usual, Mac angled his horse close. "Mr. Burke, seein' as how you're gettin' married and all, maybe you ought to let me handle this. No point in both of us smellin' bad."
"Both of us aren't going to smell bad, Mac. I'm tak ing care of the problem myself. Soon as we locate them, you can rest under one of the cottonwoods and wait for me."
"Reckon I can't do that, Mr. Burke."
T.K. didn't have time to argue. They heard the creak of wagon wheels and saw the swirl of flies around the hides piled high in the wagon bed. Two men rode side by side on the springboard, the driver crouched over, lashing the mules with a whip.
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