Whirlwind Groom

by Debra Cowan

  “I brought you some marble cake.” The other woman took a cloth-covered tin plate from her basket and walked over to the dresser. “I’ll just leave it here and you can have it when you want.”

  “Thank you. It sounds delicious.”

  Cora moved to stand in front of Josie. “We wanted to come sooner, but Catherine thought we should wait.”

  “I wouldn’t have been good company,” she admitted.

  “Your color’s good.” Cora eyed her kindly. “Catherine seems to think you’ll recover just fine.”

  “I think so.”

  “You’re probably getting antsy in here,” Loren said. “It’s been three or four days, hasn’t it?”

  “Four.” She gave a weak smile. “I think.”

  “I’ve never known anybody with a snakebite. I hear it’s painful.”

  Josie nodded. “I certainly don’t want to go through it again.”

  “Where were you when it happened?” Cora asked.

  “About ten minutes west of town.”

  Pain flared in the woman’s hazel eyes. “I put a stone for Ollie out that way. A little marker.”

  Josie hadn’t meant to open a wound and saw no reason to reveal that Davis Lee had taken her to that exact spot.

  Cora’s forehead puckered. “I’ve seen snakes there before but they’ve never bothered anyone. I’m glad Davis Lee shot it.”

  “Too bad he can’t shoot the snake in his jail,” Loren muttered.

  Cora gave him a fond look. “Preachers aren’t supposed to say such things.”

  “Well, somebody should kill that outlaw.” He jammed his hands in the pockets of his gray trousers and gave his sister a devilish grin. “Besides, I’m not a preacher anymore.”

  “I guess that means the prisoner is still in jail?” Josie asked.

  “Yes, still waiting on the circuit judge,” Cora answered quietly. “I’ll be glad to see justice done.”

  “Let’s hope it is.” Frustration flashed across her brother’s leathery features. “I heard he’s escaped trial before, somewhere down by the Gulf.”

  “That marshal who caught him will be here for the trial.” Cora stared past Josie, a distant look in her eyes. “His testimony should be enough to see that McDougal pays for what he’s done. And there’s Andrew.”

  “Catherine’s brother?” Josie sat forward. “What would he know?”

  Cora stared out the window, a distant look in her eyes.

  Loren answered. “The kid got tangled up with the gang somehow.”

  “How old is he?” she asked in surprise.

  “Twelve or thereabouts. I don’t know the whole story, just that the gang found out Catherine was a nurse and snatched her so she could doctor Ian’s tuberculosis. Andrew fetched the Ranger who’d been on their trail—”

  “Jericho Blue, Catherine’s intended,” Cora interjected quietly.

  “Yes,” he continued. “Andrew fetched Lieutenant Blue. The pair of them took off with Davis Lee and Riley. They managed to get Catherine back safely and dispatch three of the worthless curs. Ian was the only one who escaped, but word is that he had taken Andrew into his confidence about a couple of things. Their shooting Ollie is one of them. The boy can testify to that.”

  “Oh, my.” Davis Lee had told her how he and the Ranger had killed the other McDougals.

  She was glad to know there was more than one person who had knowledge of the outlaws’ misdeeds and was willing to step forward, but she hated to think about the pain it would rake up. If Ian was indeed tried this time, Josie knew it would be painful for her. Surely for Cora, too. Maybe also Andrew and Catherine. How many people had the McDougals hurt?

  “Well, listen to us. It’s too nice a day to be so gloomy.” Cora shook her head. “We didn’t come here to talk about that no-good varmint. We came to invite you to dinner.”

  Cora’s brother shot her a look of mild surprise.

  “You did?” Josie was warmed by their friendliness but wondering why Loren looked as if he hadn’t known.

  “On Tuesday night.”

  “But Tuesday is—” the man began.

  “Do you think you can come?” Cora cut him off, smiling at Josie.

  Her gaze shifted uncertainly between brother and sister. “Are you sure Tuesday’s all right?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I’d like to, but I’m not sure.”

  “Why not, hon?” Cora sounded disappointed.

  Josie gave a self-conscious laugh. “I don’t have the strength to manage the stairs yet.”

  “Oh. Well, let’s say you’re coming, then if you’re unable, you just send word and we’ll plan for another time. All right?”

  “All right. I’ll look forward to it.”

  “So will we.” Cora patted her hand.

  A soft rap sounded on the door frame at the same time a deep, now-familiar voice said, “Good afternoon.”

  “Davis Lee.” Despite the sadness that lurked in Cora’s eyes, she turned with a fond smile.

  The sheriff moved inside, his large body making the room seem crowded. He hugged the older woman before extending a hand to her brother. “Loren.”

  “Hello, Davis Lee.”

  His shrewd blue gaze met Josie’s and she inwardly squirmed. She thought he had returned to the jail. She wanted to see him but she didn’t. Every time she did, she was hit with the memory of his hands on her. His gaze. And it sparked an unfamiliar and startling flare of desire. It didn’t matter that she had been asleep for most of the time he’d cooled her down with that wet rag. Her body knew he had touched her, traitorously going soft whenever she saw him.

  She realized that Cora had said something and she forced her attention to the woman.

  “Do you need any help with your sewing? I know that snakebite had to slow you down and I’d be happy to help if you’re in a pinch.”

  “It’s kind of you to offer, but so far I’m able to manage. I’m working slower but it does give me something to do. I hope to get a little stronger every day.”

  “If you change your mind, let me know.” The other woman patted her hand. “We’ll go on now so you can get a little rest.”

  “Thank you for coming.”

  Brother and sister said their goodbyes to Davis Lee and walked out. The sheriff followed them to the door. From the hall, she heard Loren’s voice, low and urgent, but couldn’t understand his words.

  Now that she was alone with Davis Lee, she fully expected him to leave, too. Instead he turned, his gaze flicking over her.

  He braced both hands on the door frame and leaned in. “Looks like you’re coming around, Josie. I see you made it over to your spot by the window today.”

  “It feels wonderful to get up,” she said carefully. She caught the warning tone in his voice. Yes, he definitely knew what she was about.

  That shirt fit his broad chest entirely too well. The white fabric shifted with the play of muscle, brought out the deep bronze of his skin and the piercing blue of his eyes. “It’s been a long four days.”

  His intense study had her skin warming. “Catherine’s been here?”

  “This morning.” The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the strong column of his throat and a hint of dark chest hair.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you’re up. Just stopped by to check on you.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Most likely he had come to see if she was spying on his jail.

  He tipped his hat and levered himself away from the door.

  “Um, Sheriff?”

  “Davis Lee,” he reminded in a gravelly voice.

  “Davis Lee.” She swallowed, fixing her gaze on a spot in the center of his chest. “I wondered if I might get my scalpel.”

  “Sure. It’s still in my saddlebag.”

  “And my…” She cleared her throat, assailed by the memory of him jerking off her undergarment. “My corset. You have that, too. Don’t you?”

  “Do I?” His lips quirked. “You saying you
lost yours, Miz Webster?”

  “No.” The banked heat in his eyes flustered her. “Yes.”

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  Her eyes widened. “You’d make me bargain for my own clothing?”

  One corner of his mouth hitched up in a grin. “Could be interesting.”

  “And just what are you going to do with it?”

  “Well,” he said in a voice that sent a jolt of sensation straight to her toes, “I only know one thing to do with a corset.”

  And the bold sweep of his gaze over her body said he’d done it the day she’d been bitten.

  “Oh.” She tried to breathe past the lock on her lungs. His gaze was too hot, too raw. She glanced away.

  “Any more of your corsets I should be looking for around town?”

  Her face burned. “Stop teasing me. It was hard enough to ask you.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be right back with your things.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly as he walked away.

  Davis Lee couldn’t miss the blush that colored her peach-tinted skin. Jogging down the stairs, he tried not to think about how tempting she looked sitting in the sunlight with her deep mahogany hair tumbling around her shoulders like gold-touched silk. Or how her modest green-and-white striped dress turned her eyes the color of moss.

  He wouldn’t allow himself to get waylaid by her pretty face or her sinful curves. The telegram he’d sent three days ago to the sheriff of Galveston County still hadn’t been answered. Davis Lee had no choice but to make allowance for the hurricane and any resulting damage, but he was impatient to find out if Sheriff Locke knew anything about Josie Webster.

  He reached his horse, which was hitched in front of the jail, and flipped open the saddlebag closest to him. He had the undergarment halfway out before he realized he couldn’t go waltzing back to the hotel and up to her room carrying the darn thing in plain sight. Stuffing the corset back inside the leather pouch, he tugged his saddlebags off the buckskin and carried them back to the hotel.

  He paused in her doorway. Her full attention was focused out the window. No doubt on his jail. Yes, he really needed to hear from that sheriff. His jaw tightened. “Here you go.”

  She jerked toward him, flushing guiltily. She was still pale and he noticed a slight trembling in her body, which was what caused him to waver about questioning her. But if she was well enough to resume her spying, she could damn well answer him.

  Stopping about a foot away, he flipped open the leather pouch and pulled out her corset, dangling it in front of her.

  She flushed deeper, the blush tinting her neck.

  He bit back a smile at the shock in her eyes over his familiar handling of her undergarment. He sure did like vexing her. “Where do you want it?”

  She snatched it from him, crushing it as small as she could. Josie was used to seeing undergarments, discussing them delicately with men who wanted something new for their wives, but she wasn’t used to men handling hers. And certainly not in front of her. His hands were big and dark against the lightly boned eggshell fabric. She remembered those hands on her, braced herself against a stirring deep inside.

  He didn’t act the least bit uncomfortable. He probably handled women’s underwear with obscene regularity, she thought irritably.

  Reaching back into the saddlebag, he withdrew her scalpel. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this—” his gaze dipped to her bosom “—where you can get to it.”

  “I’d like to get to it right now,” she muttered.

  At his low chuckle, her fingers curled tighter around the soft edge of her corset. She forced herself to release her grip and hold out her hand. He passed the instrument to her carefully.

  “Thank you.” His gaze was hot on her breasts and he was probably wondering if she would slip it into the secret pocket of her bodice. But she laid the scalpel on the windowsill.

  She expected him to go now. Instead he stayed where he was, filling up the room with his heat and size and purely male scent. His gaze slid over her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Still weak, but much better.” Unsure of what he was about, she gave him a tentative smile. She was unreasonably glad he wasn’t leaving as quickly as he generally did.

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” His gaze traced the hair that had fallen over her shoulder onto her breasts, moved down her torso and all the way to her black boots. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

  She tensed, expecting a question about her interest in the jail. “Yes?”

  “Who’s William?”

  William! Josie’s heartbeat stuttered.

  Davis Lee folded his big arms and stared expectantly at her.

  Pain, loss, anger shot through her. “W-why do you ask?”

  “You mentioned him during your fever.”

  “I did?” What else had she said? McDougal’s name, too? Rattled, she pressed her spine into the chair. “He was my fiancé.”

  “Was?” he probed.

  She didn’t owe him an explanation, didn’t want to give him one, but she found herself saying baldly, “He died.”

  The sheriff waited a long moment. “What happened?”

  As if she would tell him. “I can’t talk about it. It’s too…upsetting.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “Two years ago.” Why did he care? Why didn’t he just go?

  Impatience flashed across the lawman’s strong features and she fully expected he would press but finally he said in a strained voice, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She nodded stiffly, shaken that she had unwittingly mentioned William during her fever, driven to know if there was more. “Did I say anything else?”

  “Something about blood.”

  Her gaze shot to his. The casual ease with which he’d said the words didn’t match the intensity in his eyes.

  “I reckon I’ve been wondering about that, too,” he said quietly.

  Her pulse hitched as her mind hurtled back to the bloody scene where she’d found William and her parents. She should make up something to appease the sheriff, but she couldn’t lie. Not after what he’d done for her. Her voice was uneven as she gave him the only truth she could. “As I said, I can’t bring myself to talk about it.”

  He studied her, his blue gaze probing and steady, then before she could blink, he leaned down. His whisker-sanded cheek brushed hers and his warm breath tickled her ear. Sharp sensation shot straight to her core. “Maybe someday you’ll trust me enough to tell me.”

  “Maybe,” she murmured, her hands closing tight on the tablecloth in her lap.

  Oh, he needed to move away right now because she desperately wanted him to kiss her. He was so close, teasing her senses with an enticing mix of male and leather and the outdoors. All she had to do was turn her head, raise it just a fraction.

  It was a struggle to bring her mind back to what he’d said. Trust him? She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Why did he have to make it about trust? Guilt nipped at her. She owed him for saving her life, but she didn’t owe him every part of herself.

  Davis Lee straightened slowly, his breath drifting against her temple, one finger stroking her hair there. The wicked glint in his eyes told her he was well aware of how he unsettled her. He tossed his saddlebags over his right shoulder. “I’ll go now. You best rest or Catherine will know.”

  She forced a smile, determined not to let him see that her spine had gone boneless. “I think she really would.”

  “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

  She knew he would. Just as he would check on her every day she was here. For the first time, that warning scared the devil out of her. It had nothing to do with Davis Lee the sheriff finding out her connection to McDougal. And everything to do with Davis Lee the man sending that delicious shiver through her body.

  Chapter Six

  Just before six on Tuesday evening, as he did every Tuesday evening, Davis Lee left the jail, this time in Jake’s capable hands. Before going to Cora’s, he w
ent two doors down to the telegraph office and had Tony Santos send another wire to the sheriff in Galveston. Davis Lee realized it might be too soon after the hurricane for the telegraph wires to be working, but it wouldn’t hurt to try and reach Sheriff Locke again.

  Lamps from the Pearl behind him and lanterns hanging outside the saloon across the street lit Davis Lee’s way as he started for Cora’s. Being this close to the edge of town, he had only Ef’s smithy to pass before angling down the west side of the big man’s barn toward Cora’s. The new hotel, which sat behind the livery across the street, was nearly finished. He wondered when the owner would arrive.

  The puppy he carried burrowed his nose into the crook of Davis Lee’s arm. Cora’s house sat at the bottom of a gentle slope behind the shed-size building that had formerly served as the stagecoach stop. Built of unfinished wood, the house was small and homey. Lamps burning in Cora’s two front windows put off a warm glow in the cool, still night.

  Davis Lee’s long stride took him from the ground to the porch without touching the two steps. He hoped his friend liked her surprise.

  He rapped twice on the door and opened it. “Cora, I brought you something—”

  He broke off at the sight of Josie standing on the other side of the table, staring at him. She held a stack of plates, her mouth open in surprise.

  His mind flashed the image of her practically naked. It was seared into his brain and had been since he’d tended her during her fever. Knowing exactly what she wore beneath that prim cinnamon-colored dress had his breath backing up in his lungs.

  The puppy, black with a white streak across his left eye, wiggled in his hold and snuggled deeper.

  Cora straightened from taking a pan out of the squat stove, flicking a satisfied look between him and her other guest before catching sight of the animal. “Well, what’s this?”

  “He’s darling,” Josie breathed.

  Davis Lee knew she was looking at the dog, not at him, but that didn’t stop his skin from going tight. What was she doing here?

  Cora set the hot pan of biscuits on top of the stove and moved around the table to him.

  “You don’t have to keep him if you don’t want.” Davis Lee dragged his gaze to the older woman, but his mind was still on Josie. Her dress skimmed her body like a shadow, molding perfectly to her breasts, tapering to the nip of her waist. The neckline was square and edged with the same buff-colored lace that was on her sleeves. Only the creamy patch of skin above her collarbone showed. “Jake said he’d take the dog back if you’re not interested.”