by Linda Broday
Lodestone to iron didn’t pull with force greater than their bodies. The emotions she raised were by no means her fault, but his with which to deal.
Although, Lord knew he failed in that every time they came within a mile of each other.
Brodie lifted a rueful brow and strolled into the room. “Murph, you’re giving these ladies grief, I hear.”
“Don’t you go starting on me, too. Dammit, I want up and I want up now.”
“Where do you insist on going, pray tell?”
“Out of these four walls. I want sunshine and fresh air.”
“I suppose that would be the garden. Then, take hold of my neck and I’ll fix you right up.”
“I have my own two feet, thank you very much.” The dark stew Murphy was in indicated no sign of changing to a more even disposition.
Brodie knew it was useless to argue. He stepped back. “Whatever suits you beats the hell out of me.”
Murphy took a couple of shuffling steps before collapsing to the floor. Brodie easily lifted and carried Murphy to a seat outdoors. Laurel and Nora followed with blankets which they tucked around him.
“Quit your hovering. You turn a man into a milksop before he can spit.” But Murphy’s bluster had lost its fire. A pale face and trembling hand bespoke of sapped strength.
“I get you coffee and plenty food,” Nora said.
“Stop rushing it, will you, Murph?” Brodie lifted tobacco makings from a pocket.
“That’s the problem.” Murphy took Laurel’s hand. “We’ve postponed the wedding day long enough. I want to make her my wife. In every way.”
Despite the logic of waiting for Murphy to recover, despite the fact they had more at stake than destroying three lives by haste, and despite the love that anchored him to his brother, Brodie couldn’t help fighting the bit. Plain and simple, Laurel fettered him with her insistence on respectability, which he admitted everyone could use a lot more of, even him. Yet, the encumbrance chaffed worse than the silver star had.
He desired her, and seeing no way out of the quagmire grated on raw nerves.
Rolling a good smoke—now that was something he could do well. He set about it with zeal. Dry papers, tapping the right amount of Bull Durham evenly in a row, and rolling it between finger and thumb, not too tight and not too loose. He’d call himself an expert. He lit it and passed it to Murphy.
“Thanks. Only a male can appreciate the value of tobacco.”
Laurel’s guilty stare warned Brodie not to make a peep, for he alone knew her weakness for fine cigars. The tip of her tongue slowly wet passion-swollen lips, sending a shiver through him. He could kiss her for the next hundred years and never lose the craving for that wild honey taste.
Warmth of the morning encounter left its brand. He soaked up her touch in a way parched desert soaked up spring rains.
Odd how nothing ever quenched this thirst.
“Coffee, Mr. Brodie?” Etta brought a tray.
It would do, he supposed. Anything to moisten until he figured out a way to get spring rains his direction.
“Don’t mind if I do. Thanks, Etta.” He accepted a cup.
All of a sudden a parade of citizens marched single file through the gate, past the sleeping crepe myrtle, and into the garden. Had they a trombone and some drums it would’ve completed the spectacle.
“Sheriff, we have news of a disturbing nature to report,” Jake hollered, leading the pack.
“Whatever it is, you’re in the wrong place. I’m not sheriff anymore.”
“Since when? No one bothered to inform us.”
“Since I don’t want the job, that’s when.”
Laurel spilled the cup of tea Etta brought, filling the saucer.
“You can’t just up and quit. We have to call a town meeting in which we require you to appear and submit a valid reason.” George’s whine coupled with the barber’s sanctimonious quirks irritated worse than a dull blade on whetstone.
“Did you get that, Thomas? You’re an attorney. Don’t we have procedures to go through?” Jake twirled his mustache.
“What explanation can you offer for barging onto my property without an invite, ladies and gentlemen?” Murphy glowered at the crowd that continued to file into the yard.
“Accept our apologies, Murphy. Didn’t see a choice.” At least a contrite John Miller shuffled his feet, staring at the ground.
“We’ve come to report a murder,” Florence Kempshaw blurted.
“What the devil are you babbling about?” Brodie’s patience wore thin. “If this is a trick to get me to bend to your will, it won’t work.”
“At least we think he’s met a foul end.” Lawyer-trained Thomas Hutson attempted to accurately interpret.
“Think? Don’t you know?” Murphy’s bluster returned along with a bit of ire. “You interrupted a fine day with mere supposition?”
“Who in the name of God do you think met a foul end?” Brodie’s cup rattled the small table Etta had brought out.
“Zeke Vallens, that’s who.”
Twenty-three
The red flush that crawled up Brodie’s neck signaled a boiling point or Laurel would miss her guess. If he didn’t throttle them all she’d be surprised.
“You caused this unholy stink over a man you despise and wished dead to begin with? And when exactly did this worry kick in?” Brodie unfolded his legs and several of the encroachers backed up a bit. “Besides, I ran into the man in Jefferson yesterday and I assure you for a dead man he appeared awfully spry. Probably still there or else he rode on to spread good cheer elsewhere.”
“We have reason to suspect different,” Florence put in.
Laurel bit her lip. She didn’t know which caused more concern—that Vallens stalked Hannah, that he might have carried out his threat to inform the military regiment where they could find Shenandoah…or learning Brodie had quit the sheriff job.
Before she could stop it, Ollie’s unslept-in bed came into her mind.
Where was the woman, and why didn’t she number in this parade given her weakness of not missing out on every dog, cat, and rooster fight?
She craned her neck, scanning the crowd until she located Curley, who stood alone at the back.
Laurel tried to stifle rising alarm. “What do you base your suspicion on?”
“Two gunshots around midnight,” Jake said. “One broke an alley window of the barber shop.”
“Did you happen to look out?” Murphy asked.
“I dove under the bed. I’m not crazy, you know.”
The crowd tittered.
“I heard ’em, too,” John Miller added quietly.
“Did you get up enough gumption to check for a body this morning, Jake?” Laurel couldn’t shake her unease.
The barber thrust out his chest. “Sure did. Not hide nor hair of anything dead—just some drops of blood.”
“There you have it.” Brodie stretched out his feet.
“Not so fast, there’s more.” George Adams put up his hand. “Vallens’ horse is in the stables and his clothes still in the hotel. Haven’t seen that mangy dog of his yet though.”
“It doesn’t prove murder.” Laurel sorted the chilling facts in her head—gunshots, blood, and a certain missing woman.
She prayed Ollie hadn’t taken matters into her own hands.
A new thought brought icy chills. Perhaps Vallens had disposed of Ollie. Heaven help them.
“It’s your worry, not mine. Vallens can sleep in Hell for all I care.” Brodie clearly wouldn’t budge on the issue.
“You’re sheriff until we decide you ain’t,” Jake huffed. “You cain’t just jump up and change your mind. Like I said—”
“You have a procedure. Yeah, I heard, and you can take your town meetings and stuff ’em up you know where.”
“Well, I nev
er!” Florence fanned her face furiously.
“What did you do with Blanchard is what we’d like to know,” Martin asked, then ducked behind George Adams. He’d already received a dose of Brodie. The wimp did lean around to tack on a polite request. “If it ain’t too much bother.”
“Yeah, did you take him out and lynch him?” This time George did the asking. “I wouldn’t put it past your sort.”
Laurel wouldn’t have them think for one minute Brodie would stoop so low. The stubborn set of his jaw said he didn’t intend to dignify that accusation with an answer.
“Bert enjoys Jefferson jail hospitality,” she said.
Brodie shot her a warning look for her trouble.
“That means every one of you who witnessed the robbery and abduction will have to traipse over there to testify when his trial comes up.” The gray-eyed rebel grinned at the ruckus that prospect raised.
“I’m not going anywhere near that place until the army pulls out,” George stated.
“Me either,” the mumbling of voices agreed.
Curley spoke up from the back, “Who’s going to volunteer to sheriff now? I nominate Jake since he has the loudest voice. Everyone in favor say aye.”
A chorus of ayes bounced off the clusters of aster, chrysanthemums, and tall, noble oak tree.
Jake’s eyes bugged out and his mouth worked. “Hey, wait a minute. This ain’t legal, Curley Madison.”
“Anyone opposed except Jake?”
Not a soul spoke.
“Folks, it appears you have a new sheriff,” Brodie drawled.
“You can’t do this. I’m refusing.”
But the rank and file had already turned and headed back where they’d come from, leaving Jake scratching his head.
“Looks like you’re stuck with it, Whitaker. Better pray Vallens met a foul end or you may have to earn your keep.” Brodie propped a matchstick in the corner of his mouth.
Laurel would’ve taken delight in the color draining from around the handlebar mustache but she hurried to try to catch Curley. Wedged in the crowd, she found he’d disappeared from view. Hope sank. She’d not visit the saloon. She couldn’t if her life depended on it.
* * *
“Ollie, where in thunder have you been? I had no idea what to think much less what to…”
The sight of Ollie washing what looked to be blood off her hands at the kitchen pump stopped Laurel midsentence. She sucked in her breath when Ollie turned her haggard features toward her. Blood-shot eyes suggested no sleep.
“Son of a bluejacket. Cain’t a grown woman spend the night how she sees fit without a body making a fuss about it?”
“With a failing heart, you can’t blame me for worrying. I thought you might be lying dead somewhere.”
“My ticker’s fine. I went out and that’s all I’m saying.”
That Ollie wasn’t forthcoming added a chill to her bones.
“You probably haven’t heard the latest circulating the grapevine express. Someone may have murdered Vallens.” She couldn’t control the quiver in her voice. “And then I see you washing something red off your hands.”
“And you thought I may have done the deed.” Ollie cackled.
“You threatened often enough. I didn’t have to stretch my imagination too far. You had more than good reason.”
“We both did, you forgettin’ that?”
“If you say it was you, no one ever need know.”
Ollie swiped her hands on a towel and patted Laurel’s shoulder. “Give me a bed and a couple of hours and we’ll discuss it. I’m a little tired right now.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
With a heavy heart, Laurel’s gaze followed Ollie up the stairs. The woman might as well have confessed.
She’d never noticed before how closely the chimes of the clock resembled a death knell. They struck ten and it gave her a jolt. Two hours before lunch and she’d barely begun preparation.
Leaving suspicion and innuendo in bigger hands, she flew about. No time to make stew. She stoked the fire, remembering the smoked venison Mr. Dunn included yesterday to make amends for Pennybacker’s slight. Smoked through and through, it only required heating. A quick trip to the cellar below and she had it in a roasting pan along with potatoes, carrots, and onions. Whip up a cake and bake the bread she’d set to rise that morning and customers would have a feast.
The only interruption she hadn’t counted on was Jake.
The man opened the back door and made himself at home. The badge on his shirt accounted for the swagger in his walk.
Jake hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. “Need to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m quite busy right now. Come back a little later.”
“Cain’t. I have a job to do in regards to Vallens’s death.”
“You mean disappearance—unless you’ve found a body?”
“Not yet, but I’m keeping on my toes.”
“That might pay off in case the man should show up alive.”
Jake ignored her and dropped into a chair. “How much do you know about Miss b’Dam?”
“You mean Ollie?”
“One and the same. How long have you known her?”
“A while,” she evaded. “I’ve lost track, it’s been so long ago. Are you thinking she waved a magic wand and Vallens went up in a puff of smoke?”
“I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions.” Jake shined the tin star with his shirt sleeve. “Where did you come from before you lit in Redemption?”
Laurel actually might’ve had fun without a lunch crowd breathing down her neck. Yet, sneaking fear said he might accidentally get a little closer to the truth than she cared.
“Back East. Neither Ollie nor I had ties, so we decided Texas might give us a new place to start.”
“Start what, may I ask?”
She measured some flour into a bowl. “This café, what else?”
“Just where did you get the money to purchase said café?”
The bell over the front door put an end to the interview.
“You know, Jake, I fail to understand what this curiosity has to do with Vallens. I suggest you wait. I’m sure Miss b’Dam would love to chew the fat with you on whatever subject your official duties would care to inquire.”
“That’s Sheriff Whitaker, not Jake.”
“I hate to be rude, but I’m busy. If you wish to hang around though, I have an apron that would definitely bring out the best in you. And I dearly need the help.”
He rose in a flash. “I just recalled a few other suspects I should pay a visit in my official investigation.”
She breathed a sigh of relief that the man possessed a pebble-sized brain or he’d be dangerous.
* * *
Murphy heard Brodie’s footsteps in the hallway long after dark. His brother returned from his haunts earlier than usual. The grandfather clock downstairs clanged the hour. He counted nine.
“Nora, don’t you ever get lonely down in the swamp, away from everyone?” He winced as she undid the bandage.
“The swamp holds many mysteries—secrets long forgotten. I am one with nature there. Loneliness find no place in me.”
The beautiful Caddo woman examined the leech’s and their work in keeping the wound clean and free from yellowish-green ooze that could kill. Her gaze met his, and he lost his bearings in the dark pools.
The woman’s quiet wisdom embraced his spirit where it traveled the by-ways leading to his heart. He only now realized the daily contact with her had extended beyond healer and patient. That worried him.
How could he promise to love and cherish Laurel, seeing how important Nora had become?
But he couldn’t stop the persistent current dragging him toward an unknown destination.
“Do you want for mal
e companionship in your world?” The question came in a husky whisper full of desire to know.
The wrong answer would pain him greatly.
Nora’s curved lips came within inches of his as she leaned to work. The tip of a long braid fell over her shoulder, tantalizing his naked chest when it swished across the width of him. Tiny shivers coursed through him.
She appeared to weigh the reply with much caution. “Often in the midnight hours I would have such a want.”
Her candor surprised him. He’d expected some degree of denial. The air crackled in the space between them. It pulled him deeper into uncharted, unexplored swamp water.
The dark braids skimming his sensitive skin inflamed his yearning more. An enticing pull crushed her lush breasts to him. No protest came as she allowed her body to follow the length of his. Each indentation filled with her softness, sealing them into a tight vacuum.
Murphy traced the curves her deerskin dress covered. No war drum rhythm was in Nora’s rapid pulse, only the ceremonial beat of surrender.
He sensed a need in her as well. Their lips met on sacred ground in a kiss full of tenderness. Not until Murphy released her did complete reality of what he’d done enter his mind.
Remorse should’ve washed over any sane, engaged man. None came. Nor did regret for his actions.
In fact, he’d never before felt a love like this in his heart. He reveled in the newfound joy.
Her midnight gaze held questions, yet she said nothing, settling in the crook of his arm. Murphy drew the blanket over them.
“It’s all right, Nora. Lie here. For now I want nothing more than your sweet breath whispering on my skin.” He was too weak yet to do anything more. It would wait.
“Your heart cannot see sleeping danger?” She spoke low.
“I know only the beauty and total serenity of the moment. You, my pretty maiden, healed my spirit even while tending to my wound.”
“And in daylight?”
What then, his conscience pricked? What of his commitment to Laurel?
“Tomorrow’s soon enough to sort out propriety. Rest for now, my sweet Nora.” He kissed the top of her head, tightening the embrace. “Let me absorb your wisdom and strength.”