The Last Cahill Cowboy

by Jenna Kernan

  Chance liked Burnett, despite his brusque, no-nonsense demeanor and the wolf he considered his dog. But Burnett didn’t have much to offer in the way of leads. He said he didn’t know anyone with exceptional shooting skills in the area, except himself. Most of the hands got plenty of practice shooting at coyotes and hares. But Burnett agreed that a shot taken from that distance would take an unusual marksman. Burnett had never met Earl or Ruby Cahill, but still offered his condolences and help.

  “If you need another man, you be sure to ask.”

  They shook hands and Chance headed out to see the owner of the other adjoining property, Don Fitzgerald. That took him through the 4C, but he stayed away from the main house. Still, two of Quin’s hands met him before he got too far along. He knew Ralph, who had ridden with him on two drives, and he was happy to see Chance again. They rode along until they reached the border between the two ranches and then turned their horses.

  Chance continued on, finding Don Fitzgerald in the saddle as always, moving a herd down to the winter pasture. Seeing him gave Chance a hitch in his throat. From his back, he could have been Chance’s father, Earl, watching over his men. Don had the same lean build and relaxed posture. His gloved hands were folded on the pommel and his rope and rifle were tied on the saddle. But his horse was a buckskin instead of a freckled roan. Chance shook off the memories.

  Fitzgerald spotted Chance’s approach and lifted a hand in salute. Chance reined in beside him. Don was still lean faced with hollow cheeks, keen, intent eyes, a wide nose with a distinct bump, a thick brown mustache that covered his upper lip and dark hair that brushed his collar.

  If Don was surprised he didn’t show it as he slid off his glove and extended his hand.

  “Well, Chance, I wondered when you’d turn up. Glad to see you, boy.”

  “Then you’re the only one.”

  He laughed. “Oh, don’t be too hard on Bowie. He’s just like your pa. Everything all in black-and-white, while you and I, we see the colors in the world.” He swept his hand ahead of him, showing off his land, then returned his attention to Chance.

  “What brings you back?”

  “Trying to get my share of the ranch. Time Quin broke the 4C up four ways.”

  His eyebrows tented. “That so? You aiming for land or cash?”

  Chance didn’t hesitate. “Cash. No offense, but I’ve eaten enough dust raised by beeves for a lifetime.”

  Don chuckled, but his eyes were shrewd. “You sound like my boys. They like town living. Can’t understand it myself.” He scratched the whiskers on his chin thoughtfully, then replaced his glove and crossed his hands over the pommel. “Don’t think Quin will sell. But maybe you’d take your share of land instead and then sell it to me.”

  “I’d have to make a profit.”

  “Sure. That’s understandable. If your brother is stubborn about it, and I think we both know he will be, you could talk to Slocum, your pa’s attorney. He’ll help you.”

  “Attorney? Quin’s got my share of that money. I’m surprised they haven’t built a special bank to hold it all. I mean to get it.”

  “As I said, I’d go for the land. You’ll make more in the end.”

  Was it that Don knew Quin wouldn’t sell to his neighbor directly or that he didn’t want Quin making any big withdrawals from Van Slyck’s bank? Was this the man he sought? His stomach tightened and he felt that muscle above his eye tick. He rubbed it away, as he tried to imagine Don Fitzgerald hiring the men who’d forced his parents’ wagon off that bluff. He couldn’t quite get his mind around it.

  “I reckon that’s so. I appreciate your advice and the offer.”

  Don tipped his head in a curt nod.

  “You had any more trouble with rustling and cut fences?” asked Chance.

  He sighed. “Seems there’s always trouble. But it’s not as bad as it was this spring. Why? They still hitting the 4C?”

  “No. Seems quiet enough.”

  “Did Bowie tell you that we had a spy here? He was working with a puncher from the 4C.”

  “Bowie and I don’t really talk.”

  “Well, that’s a shame. But your sister’s place is doing real good. I been there a time or two.”

  “Yup, though I don’t know how she can lift her head up in public.”

  Don gave him a long stare and then said, “Don’t be too hard on her, son. She’s your sister, after all.”

  “Not anymore. I’m ashamed of her.”

  “You got a gal, Chance?”

  “No, sir. And I don’t aim to. I’m after my share and then I’m heading back to Deadwood. Now that’s a lively town.”

  “Well, we’ll miss you. You remember my offer. You want to sell, you come to me first, you hear?”

  “You bet.” Chance turned his horse and pressed his heels into Rip’s broad sides.

  He made it back to town just after dark.

  Chance left Rip at the livery after buying a nose bag for his horse. He’d been looking forward to seeing Ellie all day, but it was too early, so he headed to the Whistle Stop and spent his last two dollars on a meal before heading to the church.

  Choir practice was underway and Chance paused outside, listening to the singing as he recalled his mother’s battle to get him to attend services with mixed results. He realized he was thinking of his mother and smiling. The guilt rushed in. Ruby Cahill should be at choir practice instead of lying in an early grave. Chance’s stomach roiled with his pain and rage.

  He headed in, hanging back in the vestibule rather than entering the church proper, and peered in at the raised dais holding a group of four women and two men. Ellie stood in the middle wearing a stiff moss-green hat pinned to her bun. Her matching moss-green skirt and jacket were trimmed with a black flowing loop-de-loops pattern on her skirts and sleeves that seemed designed to blend in with the dark fabric. Chance decided that, unlike her mother, Ellie did not like to stand out. But she did. Trim and curvy and pretty as a song, Chance couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Chance looked at the men. The older gent had a shining bald pate, fringed with gray hair long enough to brush his collar. Merritt’s boarder, Professor Wilson, he realized. He glanced at the other gent, ginger hair, earnest face, brown eyes and a suit that said that he did all right for himself. Chance scowled at Dr. Lewis.

  This man was on Minnie Jenkins’s list of possible husbands. Chance didn’t like him for the sole reason that Minnie did.

  If Ellie chose him, she’d be stuck in town, but she could have the children she wanted. He should be happy for her. Lewis was a good man, kind and responsible. Instead, Chance found himself thinking of ways to put him down.

  Now Chance faced a dilemma. He didn’t care if anyone saw him with Ellie. But Ellie cared. With all the double dealings and the investigation, he’d become a dirty little secret and Wilson and Lewis both knew him on sight. Lewis would have to be a saphead not to offer to escort Ellie home. So, did he show himself or simply let Ellie believe he had stood her up?

  Chance stepped far enough out of the corridor to be seen, but kept his hat low over his eyes. Ellie spotted him immediately, raising one hand from the hymnal in a salute. Her face brightened, as well. That change in her expression was an unexpected gift. It almost seemed that she’d been waiting for him and was as eager to see him as he was to see her. That showed a complete lack of good sense, but it pleased Chance unreasonably.

  He stepped back out of sight, unsure if any of the others had spotted him because when he’d looked at Ellie, he’d clean forgotten everyone else in the room. He didn’t understand it.

  Chance rubbed his neck as he considered why he was sweating. He hadn’t been so excited since the last time he’d had a chance to break horses at the 4C. It was the one kind of work he never tried to dodge.

  But Ellie wasn’t a horse and she sure the hell wasn’t the kind of gal he went for. When the urge to be with a woman came over him, he generally liked them well-broke and well padded. Leanna would blister his ears
, but he still found whores better company than a woman looking for a husband. Widows were also on his list. They had a more relaxed standard and knew what they liked. Though there was one in Dodge who liked Chance a little too much and had proposed that he stay and run her café. There was no surer way to see Chance’s back than to ask him to stay.

  He didn’t want a wife and Ellie knew better than to pick him for a husband. Still, there was a spark between them. Chance cautioned himself. Sparks were dangerous. Especially when there was so much dry timber about.

  The practice ended and Chance stepped into the darkest corner of the foyer beside a window so he could not be seen in silhouette. He’d had enough practice hunting outlaws to know how to lay low when it suited him.

  Wilson reached the foyer with the other three women. None lingered before calling their farewells.

  Ellie’s laughter preceded her. Chance felt his mood darken. What the hell was he doing here, lurking in doorways like a lovesick calf? And what had Lewis said that was so all-fired funny? He didn’t need her help badly enough to risk making a complete fool of himself. And what about Minnie’s warning? Chance wasn’t the kind to be bullied, but in this case Ellie’s mother was absolutely correct. Being seen with Chance would only hurt her odds of finding a husband.

  Ellie stepped into the foyer with Dr. Lewis. Chance set his jaw, positive he didn’t want to hear their conversation.

  “I’ll see you home,” said Lewis, not asking but just assuming she had no other choice.

  Chance took a step in her direction, ready to challenge his claim, but then stopped himself. He had no claim. Lewis was a good catch with a promising practice in a booming town. Chance hated him.

  Ellie hesitated and glanced about. Would she make some excuse to linger?

  Chance’s body tingled with the excitement he usually felt when on the hunt and closing in. His muscles tensed, preparing for whatever came.

  “No. Thank you, Clancy. I believe I have an escort this evening.”

  She looked away from Dr. Lewis, missing the expression of astonishment that was followed instantly by annoyance. Chance savored the moment, a smile pulling at his lips.

  Ellie had surprised Chance again. Was she wise, she would have linked arms with Lewis and left Chance in the dust. Instead, she glanced about for him.

  “Chance?” she said.

  He stepped from the shadows. Ellie rewarded him with a winning smile that lifted the corners of her pretty hazel eyes. Lewis retreated a step and then recovered himself.

  “Oh, Mr. Cahill. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Surprised myself. Isn’t my usual territory.”

  Lewis forced a tight smile, then replaced his brown felt hat with a brim hardly wide enough to keep the rain from his nose. He pressed down the crown with one hand and then nodded to Ellie.

  “See you on Sunday, Ellie.”

  She gave him a bright smile and watched as he departed. She still had her back to Chance when the door swung closed, leaving them very much alone.

  “That was foolish,” he whispered.

  She spun, her chin lifted in a defiant attitude that made him want to cup her jaw in his palm and kiss her again.

  “He knows you’re alone with me,” said Chance, tipping back his hat and restraining himself. Images of kissing her made his heartbeat thrum, contradicting his outward self-control. Oh, he wanted her. Wanted to taste that mouth and press her lithe, small body to his.

  “We’re old friends. I told him that.”

  Chance laughed. “Old friends. Is that what we are?”

  “Of course.”

  That took him down a peg. He was fantasizing about kissing her and unbuttoning her blouse and she was here to help an old friend.

  Damn, that hurt. He wasn’t use to much resistance from women and he wasn’t used to being with women he had to resist.

  He thought of what Leanna would do to him if he shamed Ellie.

  “If Lewis is half the man I think he is, he’s waiting outside.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s worried about leaving you alone with the likes of me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Bet you a dollar.” Which he didn’t have.

  She cocked her head and considered his offer, then grinned and nodded, extending her little hand.

  “All right. I accept.”

  He hesitated one more instant. Then he captured her hand with the speed of a snake strike and used it to pull her into his arms. She gave a little gasp before he kissed her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ellie stiffened as his mouth slanted over hers. Her shoulders rose as if she meant to fight. Chance ran his tongue along the full curve of her pouty upper lip and she gasped. Now his tongue skirted the sharp edge of her front teeth. The changes were subtle, just as she was. Ellie didn’t suddenly give in and throw herself at him, but neither did she draw back and slap his face. Now, she wavered between resistance and surrender, capitulating, thawing like thin ice wrapped around a willow bough. By slow degrees her body became pliant. His tongue slid into her mouth, gliding over hers, and she gave a soft little moan that vibrated through him like a thunderclap. The sound was barely audible, but he knew then that she also wanted this and the thrill of her acceptance pulsed through him. She tipped her head, offering him admittance and he kissed her greedily.

  Her tongue began to move, stroking over his. Ellie was a fast study, learning from their first kiss. How he wanted to teach her more, to be the one to show her just what it could be like between them.

  He couldn’t help himself from sliding one hand up her long neck and threading his fingers deep into the soft nest of her thick hair. His mouth demanded more and she withheld nothing. Her hands came up to knead the muscles of his chest like a cat’s claws. His body quickened, making him feel dizzy as a boy spinning on a rope swing. What would he give to have those claws digging into his back as he thrust into her warm, wet body?

  This time he groaned, a deep, dangerous growl of warning that he was nearing a threshold of control. Already his body was ready to take her. Ellie fueled a hunger in him, a burning thirst. He wanted to drink her in and gobble her down.

  It was the jolt of need that revived him. He saw himself from the outside, even as he backed her into the shadowy corner by the window, pressing her up against the wall like some two-bit good-time girl. He had her or he could have her if he chose to be what everyone believed him to be. He couldn’t do as he liked, because this was Ellie, who had offered him nothing but support.

  And this was how he repaid her.

  Chance broke away with a growl of frustration. Thank goodness for the darkness in this corner, so she could not see him panting, straining, fighting against himself not to do the unforgivable.

  His voice sounded more snarl than speech. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” Her voice had a breathy, airy quality that made the beast in him hungry for more.

  He clenched his teeth, trying to clear his head, but instead breathed in the sweet fragrance of roses and vanilla. Ellie smelled like flowers. He groaned.

  She stared up at him, her eyes all wide innocence. Red Riding Hood facing the wolf, too trusting to run. He ought to go out and shoot himself as a scoundrel. What the hell was he doing with Ellie Jenkins? She was a good girl and he was a killer.

  “Do you still want that husband and kids?” he asked.

  A line formed between her brows, but she nodded.

  “Then let’s get out of here.” He offered his elbow automatically, recalling the rusty lessons his mother and father had drummed into him as a boy. She looped her arm in his, showing again that complete lack of self-preservation. But he liked the feel of her at his side, small, compact, her head just cresting his shoulder and the drab green hat tipped up so he could see the wisps of hair curling at her face and neck.

  He held the door and she stepped out. He walked her down to the hotel, which was only at
the corner.

  “You owe me a dollar,” he said.

  “I don’t owe it to you yet.”

  “There at three o’clock,” he said, not turning his head.

  On the right side of the wide porch in one of the many wicker chairs, still visible behind the large potted fern, sat Dr. Lewis.

  “Pay up,” said Chance.

  Ellie glanced up at him, her lips puckered in a petulant look he’d not seen before. It made him want to kiss her again.

  “I don’t have the funds at present.”

  “Typical,” he said in mock admonishment.

  She lowered her voice. “You didn’t tell me about your parents.”

  “Can’t here.”

  “Which is why I suggested the church. It’s quiet and private this time of night.”

  “Too quiet and too darn private.”

  Ellie looked away. She understood. He could tell by the starch in her spine as they crossed the street.

  “Where, then?” she whispered.

  “Damned if I know.” He walked her up the front steps leading to the Château Royale’s wide, welcoming porch.

  Lewis extinguished his cigar and stood, removing his silly excuse for a hat.

  “Doc, you think you could see Ellie in?”

  “But…” she said, and then her words fell off.

  Chance leaned forward, speaking so only she could hear. “He’s the smart choice, Ellie, and you’re a smart girl.”

  He pulled back to see her stiff with shock, her wide eyes looking up at him as if he had slapped her. Lewis stepped forward, still holding his hat like a damn fool.

  “Where are you going?” asked Ellie.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Night’s young.”

  “You’re going across the tracks?”

  Chance gave her a practiced devil-may-care smile that had gotten him into way too much trouble over the years. “That’s where the fun is.”

  “Good night, then.” She stepped away from him and up beside Lewis. It was the smartest thing she had done all evening.

  Chance accepted her glower, understanding her objection to being cast off, but thinking how appealing she was, with her brows dipping low over her eyes and her nostrils flaring. If she had any sense she’d grab the man beside her and never let go.