Clanton's Woman

by Patricia Knoll

  Her eyes shot up to his. “Hello, Mr. Clanton.” She knew her voice sounded stiff, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “This is my sister, Samantha. She’ll be living here with me.”

  Sammi held out a fragile hand to Jack, who took it gently in his own. She met his welcoming grin with a shy smile.

  Mallory sighed in audible relief that Sammi seemed to accept him so readily, and Jack shot her a swift, questioning glance before looking back at Sammi. “Hello, Samantha. It’s nice to meet you. I hope you like Tombstone.”

  “Me, too,” she said in an aggrieved tone that seemed to charm him. She gave his horse a look of longing that held an edge of fearfulness. “What’s your horse’s name?”

  “Garnet,” he said, turning to look at the animal. “She was staying with a friend of mine in town. He’s got little kids who like to ride her—or torment her, depending on your point of view. I rode her over so she’d get some exercise. Do you like horses?”

  “Some of them.”

  Her tone was dubious enough to make Mallory smile and Jack chuckle. “Why don’t you come meet her?” He led the way to the mare, who was munching placidly. Mallory followed close on their heels and hovered as he showed Samantha the area behind Garnet’s ears where she liked to be scratched. “You don’t have to worry, Samantha. She’s as gentle as a baby.”

  Sammi touched Garnet’s shiny mane, then stroked it boldly. When the mare went on munching grass, Sammi grew more confident and looked up with a smile. “I’ll stay here with Garnet while you two look at the house.” She grimaced. “I’ve seen it already.”

  Jack glanced from Sammi to Mallory, who could feel a flush climbing her cheeks. Interested speculation lit his eyes. Mallory was positive she knew what he was thinking—that there was disagreement in the Earp household over their new home. She couldn’t deny it; she only hoped he didn’t plan to use it to try to persuade her to sell.

  “Why don’t you lead the way, Mallory?” he asked. “Show me what you want done.”

  Something in his tone baited her, and darn it, she couldn’t resist answering in kind. “Of course. I can show you exactly what we want done.” Head high, she preceded him into the house, stopping in the middle of the living room and indicating it with a wave of her hand. “Shall we start in here?”

  “Sure, that is if you don’t want to reconsider selling it to me.” He removed his hat and laid it on the window seat, then walked over to one of the walls where a long crack marred the surface. A small mound of adobe dust had spilled from it. He chipped away some of the paint and plaster, then examined the small hole he’d made.

  She crossed her arms. “I thought we’d settled this last night. No, I don’t want to reconsider.”

  He gave her a quick sideways glance, then stood to look around.

  Troubled, Mallory watched him. Somehow this room seemed smaller with him in it. He disturbed her and it was more than his renewed offer to buy her new home. Looking at the way his competent hands tested the damage to the wall made her lose her focus. She didn’t want to be aware of him.

  “Why do you want to live in Tombstone?” He moved into one of the bedrooms and she had to follow in order to answer him.

  “I bought a business here. It seems to make sense to live near my work.”

  “I suppose so,” he agreed. Catching a whiff of the overwhelming goat smell of the room, he wrinkled his nose. “Whew! Aylesworths weren’t too discriminating about the company they kept, were they? I wonder if they’re keeping a goat in Diane’s condo.” The idea seemed to please him.

  Mallory crossed her arms over her waist and leaned against the door frame. “Exactly what did you do to get her so mad at you?”

  Jack’s head came up. “Is that personal interest I hear in your voice?”

  “Certainly not,” Mallory said automatically, then could have kicked herself for sounding so quickly defensive. “I’m…I’m merely wondering if people are usually so vindictive toward you.”

  Jack’s mouth tilted up. “Only the ones who think they can trap me into marriage.”

  “Are you opposed to marriage?”

  He shrugged. “Not at all, but when I’m ready, I intend to be the one doing the asking. How about you?”

  Mallory gave him an uncertain look. She wished she’d never brought this up. “How about me…what?”

  “What are your thoughts on marriage?”

  “I’ve tried it, as a matter of fact, and I think it’s fine if you like traps.” When he looked as if he was going to ask another question, she straightened away from the door and walked across the stained and scarred floor. She rubbed it with her shoe. “What do you think needs to be done to this floor?”

  Jack hesitated for several seconds before answering. Mallory could feel his gaze boring into her for long, breathless seconds. She wondered what he was thinking, wanted desperately to run her suddenly sweaty palms down the front of her jeans and dry them off, realized to her dismay that they had passed the point of employer/employee and strayed into a personal conversation—and it was all her fault.

  Finally, he answered, and she let her breath out in slow, silent relief. “It will have to be stripped, treated, and resealed,” he went on. “It’ll be expensive. Sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

  This she could deal with. She lifted her chin and gave him a direct look. “Did anyone ever tell you that you sing a one-note song?”

  His slashing black brows lifted. “Not lately.”

  “Trust me, you do.” Mallory rolled her eyes up. “Take a look at the ceiling. This floor is the least of my worries.”

  Jack tilted his head and examined the massive spread of water stains. “Roof damage. More expense.” He made a notation in his book, then asked in a studiously casual manner, “So, why do you want to stay?”

  He was warning her off, but Mallory would have none of that. This conversation wasn’t about renovations. It was about ownership. And they might as well establish ownership right away. “Because I…we have family history here.”

  “Your sister doesn’t seem to be as crazy about the idea as you are.”

  “She’ll get used to it.” Mallory cringed at her own tone as she watched his eyes widen in question. She’d be darned if she was going to be on the defensive. Her decisions about her life, and Sammi’s, were none of his business. “She’ll like it here. She has a reason to.”

  If Jack was surprised by her tone, he didn’t show it. He gave her a straight-from-beneath-theeyebrows look and asked, “Is this family history of yours why you chose Tombstone? Hoping to drum up business for your shop by advertising your name?”

  “No,” she said through her teeth. “I don’t plan to capitalize on my name any more than you do on yours. But it’s different for you, isn’t it?” she asked in a voice that dripped honey. “If you called your business Clanton Construction, you’d have no customers at all. I mean, it would be like advertising dishonesty.”

  A long moment of silence followed that careless statement. Mallory swallowed hard and waited for his response. She wouldn’t blame him if he turned around and stalked out, leaving her to find another contractor to do the work. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her. She never talked to anyone that way.

  Instead of walking out, he stepped closer. His eyes were full of scorn. “What a wicked tongue you have, Miss Earp. You must do a lot of damage with it.”

  Mallory cleared her throat. “I’m…I’m, uh, sorry for saying that. It was inexcusable.”

  Another long, awkward moment followed before Jack nodded in acceptance of her apology, but he didn’t move away. Mallory had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. She could feel embarrassed color climbing her cheeks. A wise woman would have backed down, stepped away, anything to break that contact.

  Mallory questioned her own wisdom when she lifted her chin a notch higher and said, “To answer your question, I chose Tombstone because of its history, the shop and this house. Also, because of its closeness to the Chiricahuas.
I’m interested in the history of the area and its legends.”

  Jack tilted his head, listening with deep interest. In his eyes, she saw a hint of respect and was glad she hadn’t backed down.

  He nodded. “Those mountains have as many legends as they have peaks.”

  “I know.” Warming to the subject she loved, Mallory forgot their momentary animosity. “I’ve been fascinated by them ever since I moved to Arizona, especially the one about a bank robber named Lying Jude Bluestone.”

  “Excuse me?” Jack had snapped to attention and his hands fell to his sides. “Did you say Bluestone?”

  At the instant alertness in his face, Mallory said, “I see you’ve heard of him.”

  “You could say that.”

  Mallory paused, expecting him to go on, but when he didn’t, she said, “Well, then you know that the story says he robbed the bank in Willcox and a local sheriff went after him. The sheriff returned without the money and without Jude, but he was able to retire comfortably only a few months later. People said he—”

  “I know what they said,” Jack interrupted in a flat tone. “You shouldn’t believe all those old tall tales.”

  Her back straightened. Once again, she heard the echo of Charles’s voice telling her that her opinion didn’t count, her thoughts didn’t matter, her conclusions were wrong. “There’s no proof it’s a tall tale.”

  “There’s no proof it isn’t,” he answered shortly. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those fools who thinks they can find Jude’s treasure?”

  “I’m not a fool.”

  “People have been looking for that money for a hundred years and no one’s ever found a trace of it.”

  “Well, they didn’t have what…” It was an effort, but Mallory forced herself to stop.

  “You were saying?” he prompted.

  “Never mind.” Searchers never told all they knew, and especially not to someone as sharply intelligent as Jack. “It’s possible that I can find it,” she hedged. “Stranger things have happened.”

  Jack was quiet for a moment as if he planned to pursue the subject, then decided to bide his time. Finally, he said, “Stranger than a Clanton working for an Earp?”

  Mallory blinked, then nodded in agreement even as she wondered what he was really thinking. She hadn’t known him very long, but she could already tell that he wasn’t the type of man who gave up easily. He would return to their discussion of Lying Jude’s treasure in his own good time.

  She fervently wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  He turned away and began inspecting the room, running his hand over the walls, thumping the baseboards with the toe of his boot. Mallory was impressed with his thoroughness but she wasn’t surprised by it. Whether he was working or playing cards, he seemed to be good at whatever he attempted. She thought of his boast the night before that he was the best at his job and decided it was probably true.

  As she watched, he examined one of the windows, then grasped the sash to tug it open. Mallory found herself watching the way his muscles strained the seams of his denim jacket and wondering if the snaps in front were going to pop open. The thought had warmth swirling through her. If she moved around in front of him, she could… She managed to stop before she did anything so foolish. Briefly, she closed her eyes and wondered what on earth was happening to her. There was a very strong chance she was losing her mind.

  At last, he lifted the window to let the breeze in. “Did you choose Tombstone because of the local history or because of your family history?”

  She clasped her hands together at her waist. “Does it matter, Mr. Clanton? Everybody knows the Earps were the good guys.” That brought him around to focus on her. The challenging look in them could have stopped a charging rhino, but Mallory had her daring up now. “It’s a well-known fact that the Earps were trying to bring some law and order to this town because it was being ravaged by the Clanton and McLowery gang.”

  His hands lifted to his waist and his head jutted toward her. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, that’s a bucket of donkey muffins, Miss Earp.” Before she could sputter out a reply, he went on, “A well-known fact,” he snorted derisively. “I think you need to be educated in the truth.”

  Her jaw dropped. “The truth?”

  “How much do you really know about the feud between the Earps and the Clantons?”

  “Enough.”

  “Meaning nothing.”

  Mallory held on to her temper by pure force of will. She had only been with him for twenty minutes and she felt as if she had gone ten rounds wrestling a grizzly. This conversation had gone in every possible direction except the one she intended. If she could just get through the next hour or so, she would know how to deal with him. She was beginning to rethink her plan to be involved in the actual work on the place. It would be in her best interest to stay as far away from him as possible.

  She started from the room, but looked back over her shoulder at him. “If you’re finished in here, there are other rooms to see, unless you’re changing your mind about taking on this job.”

  The determination in his face matched hers. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Walking with quick, sharp steps, Mallory led him to the bedroom that she intended to have for her own. “Arguing over something that happened more than one hundred years ago is perfectly ridiculous.”

  “Afraid you’ll lose?” Jack asked calmly as he sauntered along behind her. “I can’t believe a relative of the Earps would run from a fight.”

  “I’m not exactly a direct descendant. The relationship is a distant one,” she said with a toss of her head that sent her braid dancing. She turned to face him. “However, I don’t appreciate…” Her words stumbled over themselves and fell flat.

  He was regarding her with laughter in his eyes because he had done what he had obviously planned—gotten a rise out of her. He was teasing her and she had immediately gone on the defensive. Since the minute she had met him, she had been energized and challenged more so than at any time in the past year. What was it about this man that sent her into such quick overreactions?

  She cleared her throat and said briskly, “We were wondering if there was some way to make these rooms larger. Sammi and I would both like more space.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her abrupt change of subject, but he looked around and answered, “The separating wall could be taken out and this made into one big room, and another room could be added on. It’ll raise the cost, of course. In fact, it’ll almost double it.” He punched some buttons on his calculator and wrote them in his notebook.

  “I never doubted that for a minute,” she said sweetly. “But we can negotiate.”

  “Something that our ancestors should have learned to do,” he said.

  “Good point,” she answered blandly, refusing to be drawn in again. The dangerous gleam in his eyes made her heart beat in a quick, steady patter of anticipation. Appalled to realize that she was actually enjoying this debate, she said, “Here’s the bathroom.”

  She marched in and stood beside the old-fashioned tub. A narrow shower spigot stood high on the wall above it. She turned the knob with a twist of her wrist. There was a mighty heaving and gurgling before a single drop of water emerged to plop onto the rust-stained porcelain below.

  “As you can see, the plumbing needs work.”

  “I’ll get Fred to look at it. He’s our plumber.”

  “Good.” She reached to turn off the faucet, but his hand was there before hers.

  “Here, I’ll do that,” he said.

  “I don’t need your help.” She brushed his hand away, looking up when she heard another gurgling rumble from the pipes overhead. Alarmed, she twisted the knob with one hand, and reached up with the other to turn the shower head away. It tilted upward at a crazy angle, but before she could straighten it, a blast of icy water gushed out and hit Jack full in the face.

  Yelping, he leaped backward. His arms flew out, clipping Mallory across the shoulder and sending h
er reeling across the room. She crashed into the opposite wall and had to scramble to regain her balance. Jack grabbed for the faucet handles. He twisted the water off, then began flicking water from his face.

  To her horror, Mallory felt a bubble of hysterical laughter trying to escape. She gulped it down frantically and said, “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

  He stopped for a second and his head came up. “If I thought you had, you’d be under that shower right now finding out how cold it really is.”

  “Oh,” was all she could say as he took off his jacket and used it to finish drying his face. She cleared her throat again and he looked up.

  “I’m warning you, Miss Earp, you’d better not laugh.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said heartily. “No, sir, not me. Absolutely not.” She ended on a hiccup and looked at him sheepishly. He gave a dry snort that seemed to echo what she was already thinking. This was the strangest business relationship she had ever begun. On the other hand, she’d never met a businessman quite like Jack Clanton.

  “Good. Glad to hear you’re not laughing.” He finished drying off and slung his jacket over his shoulder.

  Mallory rocked on her heels and spread her hands wide. “Sooo, I guess it’s safe to say that the plumbing does work after all.”

  “Looks that way,” he answered in a disgruntled tone. Jack held up his jacket and shook it, then looked up to meet her eyes, which were bright with suppressed laughter. His own eyes narrowed intently. Mallory’s heart tried to plug her throat with its wild beating.

  This reaction was purely physical, she told herself in a panic. She wasn’t ready for anything else. Couldn’t be. The last thing she wanted to notice was the way a lock of his midnight hair clung to his forehead. Nor did she want to see the squareness of his jaw, its lines sharpened by that morning’s careful shave.

  Helplessly, she looked downward, noting the other things about him that she didn’t want to consider—his shoulders, wide and flat beneath his blue plaid shirt, darkened here and there by water droplets; the strong column of his throat, the breadth of his chest, the leanness of his waist. She didn’t want to look at him and feel anything, and yet she couldn’t stop her heart from doing a slow, soft roll in her chest.