Blue Dalton

by Tara Janzen

  She opened her eyes and found him lounging against the doorjamb, watching her. He filled the frame with his broad shoulders, lean torso, and long, powerful legs. His clothes were rumpled, his tawny hair tousled—both her fault, she realized with a strange sense of loss. She’d done that to him.

  “I’m leaving,” she said.

  “What’s the matter?” he drawled softly, his mouth curving in an easy, mocking smile. “Don’t you trust yourself?”

  “You’re arrogant.” She stuffed her shirt back in her jeans, refusing to look at him.

  “And you’re pretty.”

  She stopped with her hand half inside her waistband. Pretty? Her blush returned, and she silently cursed herself for being a fool. With jerky movements she finished tucking herself together. She looked around at the floor and found her boots and socks next to a chair. She sat down and drew them near.

  “Okay, have it your way.” He pulled a key chain out of his jeans pocket and unclipped a key. He tossed it over by her. “Take my car. It’s not much, but it should get you to wherever you’re going. Don’t let it be the ranch. They’re waiting for you there. Your dog is half dead. Don’t stop in Walden, but there’s a vet in Steamboat, Andy Marks. Please don’t mention my name.”

  Blue stared at the key lying on the rug, a shiny dab of metal representing her freedom. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

  “Yes I do.” Seducing a woman, or at least trying to, and then turning her over to the cops was way out of Walker’s league. Sending her out into a high-country storm in the middle of the night with nothing but the shirt on her back and the boots on her feet was also outside his range of possible actions. A few women he’d known would be glad to know he had a few scruples after all.

  Hell, now she had him surprising himself, but she’d also brought him the map—which was more than he’d had before.

  “They’ll think I stole your car.”

  “If they catch you, and please try and make damn sure they don’t, I won’t press charges.”

  “I’ll get it back to you.”

  “If you can. Otherwise don’t worry about it. It’s not much, and I’ve got my truck.”

  Blue nodded and began lacing up her boots, still unable to look up at him.

  Walker had the opposite problem. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She amazed him, and intrigued him beyond reasonable bounds. He hadn’t kissed a virgin since high school, but he didn’t remember any of those girls kissing like Blue Dalton. An unsettling thought crossed his mind.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Old enough.”

  “To vote? Or to buy a shot and a beer?”

  “Both.” She tied off one boot and started on the other.

  “No boyfriends?” He couldn’t imagine any man getting as close as he had tonight and giving up, unless of course the lady made a habit of saying no when she meant yes. Because she’d meant yes. In every way possible she’d said yes—in every way except the one that mattered most.

  “I had a boyfriend once, in Texas. He was nice,” she said defensively, her insinuation clear. Her mouth firmed into a grim line, and she kept on lacing in silence—in, out, tighten; in, out, tighten. When she was finished, she stood up and finally faced him, brushing the hair back off her face. “I’ll be back for my map.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing you again.” The grin was back in place, a lazy, sensuous curve of what she now admitted was a very masculine mouth.

  “You probably won’t see me,” she said, tearing her gaze away and glancing around the cabin. “Can I borrow a coat? Mine’s still wet.”

  “Help yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the array of outerwear hanging by the front door.

  Blue chose a navy-blue parka. She rolled the sleeves before she put it on, and they still hung past her hips. The coat hung to her knees, reminding her of the lean, hard body it usually shielded from the cold. The heat rose in her again, all through her. She stole a glance at him, unable to stop herself.

  “Why don’t you bring the car around,” he said, grinning lazily, reading the thoughts on her face as clearly as if she’d written What happened? And can you make it happen again? on a piece of paper and handed it to him. Trouble, he thought, pure trouble. “The car is in the barn. You can’t miss it. I’ll carry the dog, if he’ll—” He jerked his head toward the kitchen and a second later swore under his breath.

  The look on his face frightened her like nothing in his touch had. Then she saw a flash of red light streak across the cabin wall.

  “Take off the coat,” he commanded. “Get back on the couch.”

  “No!” She lunged for the door. She was too close to freedom to lose now.

  He caught her as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. “Dammit, Blue.” He hauled her back against his chest, lifting her feet off the floor and swinging her around. “You’ll never make it. Cripes. Dammit. Don’t fight me.” He hefted her higher, getting his arm out of reach of her teeth. “So help me God, if you bite me again, I’ll—” The sound of slamming car doors stopped him in mid-sentence.

  Blue twisted her head around, her eyes wide with fear. “Hide me, Walker,” she pleaded. “I swear I’ll—”

  “Hush, Blue,” he interrupted, crossing to the couch. “You swear too much, and there’s no place to hide you in here. Let me do the talking. Give me the coat.”

  He dropped her on the couch, and she slipped her arms out of the sleeves. “Don’t give me up, please . . . please.”

  Her fear affected him the same way her tears had; it made him feel helpless, worse than helpless. It made him feel the failures of the years. There had been a time when the Evans name had been worth special considerations in these parts, but no longer, not since his father had run the ranch into the ground. They were coming to get her, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  “You have to go with them tonight,” he told her, ignoring the pounding on the door. “But I’ll come for you tomorrow. I promise.”

  She looked up at him with her dark eyes, her mouth trembling. “Why?” Confusion turned the word into a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly, but he knew he would.

  “Walker! Are you in there?”

  “Open up, Evans!”

  “Maybe because I need you.” He pushed the map lower in his shirt pocket and attempted a smile.

  “It’s mine.” A bit of the fight came back into her eyes, assuring him she hadn’t given up, not yet.

  “Well see. Don’t worry, Blue. The Jackson County jail isn’t as bad as some.” His smile spread into a grin, deepening the creases in his too-perfect face.

  “And you’ve seen a few I’ll bet.” A weak smile touched the corner of her mouth.

  Walker wanted to say something dumb, like “That’s my girl,” but she was far from being anybody’s girl. Blue Dalton was one of a kind. She was scared and trying not to show it. She’d cried over having shot a man, but she’d shot the man who’d needed it. She’d outmaneuvered him in all ways, except the one that counted, resorting to kisses when violence had failed—and he doubted if she’d given an ounce of thought to either set of actions. The lady ran on instinct, something he recognized from personal experience as a sure way to get into trouble, and a pretty good way of getting back out with your skin intact but with little else.

  “Evans! We’re coming in!”

  He held her gaze a moment longer and made his promise once more. “I’ll come for you, Blue.”

  She nodded, and he watched a mask of indifference fall across her face, hiding the fears he knew were still there. He wanted to touch her again, but he held back.

  “Walker! You better open up this door!”

  “Hold your horses, Bowles,” he hollered. “I’m coming.”

  He strode across the cabin, opened the door, and all hell broke loose. The posse swarmed into his living room, guns drawn.

  “She’s unarmed,” he growled, his anger
flaring at the stupid, macho display. He glared at Bowles. “Tell them to back off.”

  Bowles shrugged. “It’s their show, Walker.”

  “Shut up, pretty boy. Or I’ll get you for aiding and abetting.” The sheriff pushed by him. “On your feet, Dalton. Get up against the wall and spread ’em. Taggart, search the place.”

  “You bastard.” Walker acted without thinking, grabbing the sheriff’s arm and jerking him back. He towered over the shorter man, but that didn’t stop the sheriff’s threats.

  “Touch me again, and I’ll have you up on assault.” He pulled free, and Walker let him go, but not without a threat of his own.

  “Touch her, and I’ll give you a reason.”

  “Cool it, Walker. He’s just doing his job.” Bowles stepped between the two men. The sheriff moved over to Blue. Lower, under his breath, Bowles said, “You should have radioed in the minute you found her. This looks bad, real bad, the two of you sitting around all cozylike. The sheriff figured you were up to something. Dammit, Walker. I told him we could trust you.”

  Walker clenched his fists at his sides. Bowles was right, but that didn’t make watching Blue any easier. Her mask was slipping. She bit down on her lower lip when the sheriff kicked her feet apart, and she squeezed her eyes shut as his hands patted down her body. He was efficient, though, and quick, and all too soon he had her cuffed and heading for the door.

  Taggart came out of the kitchen holding the two rifles. “Which one is hers?”

  “The Winchester,” Walker snapped, not taking his eyes off Blue.

  “Where’s the rest of her stuff?”

  “Her coat is by the door. I had to leave her backpack up on the mountain.”

  “This it?” the sheriff asked, picking out the smallest jacket.

  “Yes,” Walker said. “But she can’t wear that one. It’s wet.” He lifted the navy-blue parka off the couch and came up behind Blue. He draped the coat over her shoulders, but her shoulders were too small to hold it up by themselves. Swearing softly, he stepped in front of her and pulled the front panels together. He got the first two buttons fastened before he gave up on his own macho display. His gaze lifted, slowly meeting hers, and the fear in her eyes reached way down deep inside him, branding him with their shared defeat.

  He buttoned the next two buttons without looking, lowering his head to whisper in her ear so very softly, “I’ll come for you, Blue. You can count on it.”

  He felt her trembling inside the coat and swore to himself. Then he stepped back and watched them take her away.

  Four

  He wasn’t coming. She was a fool to think he would come. And even if he did come, there wasn’t anything he could do for her—except give her back the map.

  Blue knotted her hands in her lap and continued staring at the beige wall of her cell. He’d had all day to come, and he hadn’t. Maybe it was better if he didn’t come. Dammit. She tightened her hands until her knuckles went white. What was she going to do?

  She hadn’t made her one phone call yet.

  “With good reason,” she muttered under her breath. Who was she going to call? Her aunt and uncle in Galveston? That would go over like a ton of bricks. They’d always thought Abel’s side of the family was a lot on the disreputable side, and she’d never been able to fault their opinion.

  “Talking to yourself again, Blue?” The deputy named Taggart stopped by her cell and leaned against the bars, grinning from ear to ear. “You know what they say, don’t you? Then again, maybe you’re setting yourself up for a plea of insanity.” He pushed off the bars and chuckled. “Keep talking, Blue. Just keep on a-talking. Maybe you’ll talk yourself down to manslaughter, that’s if the old coot ever kicks off.”

  Jerk, she thought, not bothering to look at him. She’d seen enough of the yahoo to tide her over until she was ninety. The man she’d shot, O’Keefe they called him, wasn’t going to die. She’d heard the officers talking about him, and he’d been in trouble with the law long before he’d been in trouble with her. All of her tears and awful fears had been for nothing except for more trouble in Walker Evans’s arms, a man she was unlikely to ever see again—along with her map.

  She covered her eyes with one hand and rested her elbow on her thigh. What was she going to do? The walls were closing in on her, making it hard to breathe. She wrapped her other arm around her waist and began rocking slowly back and forth on the cot. Her fingers gripped her shirt. What were they trying to do? she wondered in anger, cook her? Sweat ran down her sides and between her breasts. Her face was hot and her mind was racing around in circles. She wiped her cheek with her shoulder.

  Claustrophobia, she thought. That’s what you’ve got, not heat prostration. Don’t think about it.

  “Sure,” she said aloud, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Maybe she was going crazy. If Walker Evans would walk through the door right now and get her out of there, she’d let him have the map, a sure sign of insanity in her book.

  * * *

  “Can’t you hurry up, David?”

  “Let me handle this, Walker. You’ve had me running my tail off since midnight.” David stopped and checked his Rolex, then went back to signing papers. “You’re going to be in debt to me for the rest of your life.”

  “I’ll just jack the price up the next time you bring all those Seventeenth Avenue dudes up for their annual dose of machismo.”

  “They’re lawyers, not dudes, and they come for relaxation, not machismo. John wants a trophy trout this year, or he’s not coming back.” David flipped a page and ran his finger down the lines.

  “Tell him to spend more time on his casting and less money on his equipment. I think his cane rod scares off my plebeian fish.”

  “Right.” David laughed and continued checking his papers. “Your sister told me not to come home without pinning you down on a date for a visit and dinner.”

  “Anytime,” The sheer bulk of the papers impressed Walker. The one thing he’d learned about the law was that if you were ever in trouble with it, you’d better put everything you had, your money, your faith, and your future, in the hands of the most heartless lawyer you could find and afford. David wasn’t much of a fisherman, but he was a real tough lawyer. That David was also the closest thing he had to a brother didn’t sway Walker’s opinion in the least about the man’s legal skills.

  “Can you do it? Can you get her out tonight?”

  David glanced up at the door leading to the sheriff’s office, then back to Walker. A lean smile graced his face. “As soon as he opens his door, I’m going to be all over him like a vulture on dead meat. He’s got no case, and he knows it. O’Keefe confessed to cutting her with his knife. The doctor says the only thing he’s ever going to die from is old age or a pickled liver. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long, and as soon as your sheriff is through with him, the boys in Topeka will have him extradited. Annabelle Dalton won’t have to worry about him again. She did leave the scene of the crime, but you told me she was scared. I’ll use it if the judge has a problem.”

  “Do you think there’s going to be a problem?” Walker didn’t like the sounds of any more problems cropping up.

  “No,” David replied. “She’s pure as the driven snow. She owns the Jeep, her firearm is legal, even her credit is good. There’ll be a fine for diving in the lake. You could press trespassing charges, but I doubt if you’ll be doing that.”

  “No.” Walker smiled, his first smile since last night. “I won’t be pressing charges.”

  “Mr. London? Sheriff Johnson will see you now.” One of the deputies came out of the office door, holding it open.

  David grinned and picked up his briefcase. “This is going to cost you a fortune, Walker.”

  Walker grinned back. “It’s worth a fortune.”

  * * *

  “Up on your feet, Blue. You’ve got a visitor.” Taggart jangled his key ring as he walked down the hall. “Your pretty boy came to see you. Bet that makes you real glad.”

  Wha
t’s he jabbering about now? Blue wondered. She didn’t know any pretty boys, and if she had she wasn’t at all sure she’d own up to it.

  “Come on, honey. You’ve been sprung. That’s some kind of lawyer you’ve got. He just ran over my boss like a Mack truck. Haven’t seen Johnson that steamed since . . . since I don’t know when.” Taggart laughed and fitted the key into the lock.

  Now he had her attention. Blue grabbed her coat and swallowed the dregs of a cold cup of coffee left over from supper. She didn’t know any pretty boys, and she sure as hell didn’t have a lawyer, but if dumb old Taggart was going to open her cell door, she was going to be out of there before he could spit or change his mind.

  “Slow down, honey. I’ve got to check you out before you can leave.”

  “You’ve done all the checking you’re going to, and don’t call me honey.” She shouldered past him and immediately felt a weight lift off her heart, and a hand grab her arm.

  “Slow down. I’m talking about those two nickels you had in your pocket. Don’t want the citizenry thinking we steal from you felons when we get you in here.”

  “I’m not a felon.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly the Queen of England either.”

  “Never claimed to be.” She shook free of his hand.

  He grabbed her shoulder instead and pushed her in front of him through a door. “You’re a real cuss, Blue, just like your old man. I sure hope Walker knows what he’s got himself into.”

  Blue stopped cold in her tracks, and Taggart bumped into her. She whirled around, half coming out of her coat. “Walker Evans?” The weight on her heart came crashing back down, but differently, more jumpy, less heavy, but no less scary. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming, and she wasn’t ready to face him again. She’d never be ready after last night.

  “What’s the holdup, Taggart?” a deep voice asked, and Blue cringed inside. Darn him, he walked as softly as he talked.

  “I don’t know, Walker. I don’t think the lady wants to go with you.”

  “Sure she does. Don’t you, Blue?”