Clanton's Woman

by Patricia Knoll

  She didn’t know how many seconds, or minutes, she had stared at him, but his eyes had widened in surprise, then fixed on her as if to see what she would do. She felt frozen in place, and when she didn’t move, he did, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “Mallory…”

  “Mallory,” Sammi called her from the other room. She stumbled back as if snatched from the edge of a precipice. Gasping, she turned away, grateful to her sister for rescuing her from what would have been a mistake. She left the bathroom, glad to be putting distance between them, though Jack wasn’t far behind. She found her sister standing by the front door, looking down the pockmarked driveway.

  “Mallory, someone’s coming,” she said, as a Jeep topped the rise and roared over the gravel to the door. Garnet, still ground-tied in front, tossed her head and shied away, then settled back to eating grass.

  The Jeep stopped and a young man stepped out and looked around. His gaze darted around the yard as if taking in everything at once. Mallory was impressed by the quick intelligence in his eyes and the way his face lit up when he saw Garnet. He strolled over to give her a friendly pat on her glossy neck before he came to the front door. Sammi melted back shyly, leaving Mallory and Jack in the opening.

  Jack gestured the other man inside. “Morning, T.C. Come in and meet the Earps.”

  T.C. nodded and stepped into the house. He gave Jack’s damp face and jacket a surprised look, but didn’t comment as he removed his hat. He nodded to Mallory, who smiled back and murmured a greeting. She noted that he was several inches shorter and much slighter than Jack, but had eyes the identical shade of green and a dimple that emerged at the edge of his mouth. She wondered if he was a relative. She was about to ask when Sammi stepped forward. T.C. straightened and stared at her.

  Mallory saw the thunderstruck look in his eyes and turned to look at her sister. Sammi did look exceptionally pretty that morning in an apricotcolored sweater and slacks outfit. Her shiny chestnut hair floated soft and free around her shoulders. She also looked incredibly young and sweet.

  “Mallory, Samantha, I’d like you to meet my nephew, T.C. Barrett. T.C., this is Mallory and Samantha Earp. T.C. works for me,” Jack said, pride in his voice. “He’s one of the best carpenters in this part of the country. He’s going to help me work up the estimate.”

  T.C. gave his uncle a self-conscious smile, then he nodded again to Mallory. “Hello, Miss Earp. I was surprised to hear you’d bought this place. Everybody’s talking about it today.”

  “I hope they’re saying good things.”

  He grinned at his uncle. “They’re saying it’s good to have Earps back in town.”

  While Mallory gave Jack a superior look, which he answered with a lift of his eyebrows, T.C. turned his attention to Sammi. She smiled her gentle smile and offered her hand as she looked straight into his eyes. “Hello, T.C., I’m happy to meet you.”

  T.C. blinked, swallowed hard, clapped his hat over his heart, and took her hand as carefully as if he was capturing an injured baby bird. “I’m happy to meet you, too, Samantha,” he said, his voice low. He gazed at her for a long moment, then he smiled at her with such sweetness that Mallory could hear Sammi’s breath catch. Color climbed into her cheeks and a light began to glow in her eyes. T.C.’s smile stretched into a grin and they stood like that for several seconds without speaking. The two of them could have been the only ones in the room.

  Mallory met Jack’s eyes questioningly. He tilted his head as if to say that he didn’t know what was going on. Mallory knew, though. It was a look she’d never seen on her sister’s face before, but it was unmistakable. She must have been looking at Jack the same way five minutes ago in the bathroom.

  “Would you like me to show you around outside, T.C.?” Sammi offered in her quiet way. “My sister says I can have animals here.” She looked up at him with her brown eyes shining. “Do you think you could build some pens for me?”

  T.C. looked as though he would happily walk over hot coals for her. “I would be glad to,” he said. The two of them went outside, leaving Mallory with her jaw sagging.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Jack demanded.

  She turned wide eyes to him. “She’s never warmed up to anyone so quickly. It usually takes her weeks to get used to new people.”

  “T.C.’s not just anyone. He’s a nice kid. What’s the big deal?”

  “It’s…it’s not a big deal,” she answered defensively, then berated herself for letting him push her into that position once again. “Sammi is…special. She’s not like other girls her age.”

  Jack’s frown was growing impatient. “Not like other girls. What do you mean? She has a secret life as an international spy? What?”

  “No, no.” Mallory flapped her hand at him impatiently. “I mean she’s always been slower than others her age. She was born when my parents were well into their forties. She was somewhat delayed in her development…things never came easily for her…” She paused, wondering how much more to say.

  “A late bloomer,” he supplied, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

  “Well, yes. We’ve always protected her, and…”

  He stared at her. “And you’re worried about T.C.? He would never…” His eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “Wait a minute, you’re not worried about that old Earp/Clanton thing, are you?”

  She waved that idea away, too. “Of course not. I just don’t want to see her hurt.”

  Jack shook his head. “Hurt?” he asked incredulously. “They just met! Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun?”

  Of course she was, but she couldn’t explain her reasons to him, a virtual stranger.

  When she didn’t respond, he continued, “I noticed last night that you tend to draw wild conclusions. Believe me, T.C.’s the last person you should be worried about.” He turned away. “Come on, show me the kitchen.”

  Chastened, she followed him, pointing out the worst problems and telling him her thoughts about gutting the kitchen and building a more efficient one. He took notes and measurements and made suggestions.

  His cool professionalism was in perfect contrast to her own stirring emotions. She was grateful to have a few minutes to catch her breath. It seemed that since he had walked in the door, she had been flung from one emotional peak to another.

  It was crazy, but still, she couldn’t escape the thought that matters had drastically changed in only a few seconds.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MALLORY and Sammi’s shop, Passing Time, was located on Allen Street near the Bird Cage Theatre.

  When she had first seen the shop, Mallory felt its location must be a good one because of the number of tourists who visited the infamous saloon and bawdy house. Once she had examined the books and seen the stability of the business, she had been convinced to buy it. It had an eclectic mix of merchandise from books about the Old West to antique jewelry and glassware, Apache pottery and natural skin care products produced in an Arizona town famous for its hot springs and mineral baths.

  The weekend before, they had moved out of Mallory’s apartment in Tucson. The tiny upstairs apartment they were to share until their house was ready had appalled Sammi even more than the place outside of town. There was a living room/kitchen combination, a bathroom and a tiny bedroom barely big enough for their twin beds. Mallory didn’t mind because she knew it was only temporary and she attributed Sammi’s distress to her need for security. Once they moved into their house and settled into a routine, she was convinced that Sammi would be fine.

  During the first days of ownership, she and Sammi were exhausted from the double stress of settling into the apartment and learning the business, but to Mallory’s delight, Sammi was catching on quickly. Because their merchandise was bar-coded and they had a computerized cash register, it had been easy for Sammi to learn how to make a cash sale. Mallory still had to help with credit cards, but it wouldn’t be long before her sister could be left alone in the shop.

  She and Sammi had
called their parents, who seemed pleased about their success. Their father had teased Mallory that she was striding into her new life, hauling her somewhat reluctant sister along with her. She had to admit that was true, but she was sure things would work out.

  She was especially excited about her house. The home she had shared with Charles, and everything in it, had been done strictly to his taste and she’d had very little say in it.

  In her mind, she had decorated the place she was buying with fat, comfortable sofas, billowing white curtains at the windows and jars of fresh potpourri in every room. She couldn’t afford all the furnishings yet, but planned to buy a few pieces at a time until it was just right.

  Jack was due to drop by anytime with the repair estimate for the house. She hadn’t seen him since the previous Saturday, but she had seen plenty of T.C. Mallory sighed inwardly. It was true that T.C. was a perfect gentleman around Sammi, with emphasis on the word “gentle”. He treated her with worshipful respect and Sammi was frankly mad about him. Mallory hoped it was only a crush and that T.C. had the good sense not to try to take it further. Now that a few days had passed, she couldn’t recall what had alarmed her so much on Saturday. On this beautiful morning, nothing seemed worth worrying about.

  She grabbed the broom and went outside to sweep the sidewalk in front of the store and then stood looking up and down the street. Her gaze lingered on the Bird Cage, which had been preserved much as it had been during Tombstone’s wildest days. Not only was it interesting from a historical standpoint, but she was sure the customers were titillated by the idea that the prostitutes, of which the Bird Cage had many, had held their assignations with their “johnnies” in the tiny rooms built along the top of the walls. Separated from the patrons below by only a short distance, a low wall and a velvet curtain, the “soiled doves” had practiced the world’s oldest profession. Appalling though it was, it had been a common occurrence in the Old West.

  Mallory leaned on her broom idly gazing at the imposing building, then looked up the street toward the high school, where classes had been dismissed for the summer and the senior class had graduated. She liked this town, liked the busy but not frantic pace of life. It pleased her to know that although the town was famous for its past, it didn’t live in the past but planned for the future.

  Her future would be good here—hers and Sammi’s. They had options and possibilities that hadn’t been available to women in Tombstone’s early days.

  With her thoughts centered on this, Mallory went back to her sweeping. An idea began forming in her mind. She swept more and more slowly until she stopped altogether and hurried into the shop. She hunted up a box full of photo reproductions that she had found in the shop’s existing stock. As far as she could tell, all of them were of famous Tombstone shady ladies of the 1880s and 1890s. Sifting through them, she marveled at the brazenness of their poses and the downright hardness and homeliness of some of their faces. She concluded that Tombstone’s silver miners must have been truly anxious for female companionship.

  Mallory had marked the photos to half price just to get them out of her shop. Now she reconsidered. She was a businesswoman after all, and she knew that display and advertising were everything. She picked out the least offensive photos, grabbed an old-fashioned fringed shawl from the back room, and loaded her arms with Victorian sachets, bath bubbles, bath salts and scents from her stock.

  She carried everything to the front window, removed the old display of antique glassware, and spread out the shawl. Then she climbed into the window and began arranging the photos and scents in an eye-catching display.

  She was just finishing up when a tap on the window made her glance around. Jack was grinning at her from the sidewalk.

  She raised her voice so she could be heard through the glass. “Good morning.” She backed out of the window, climbed down to the floor, and came around to open the door for him.

  “Good morning,” he responded, stepping inside. In jeans and a softly faded chambray shirt, he appeared ready for work. He pointed to the photograph in her hand. “You do realize that all these are ladies of the evening, right?”

  Mallory glanced at the window where several of the photos were of women in gaudy feathers and fake jewels. “I didn’t think they were Sunday school teachers.” She pointed to the sachets and bath salts. “I decided to do something different from the displays of Victorian mothers and babies who are usually trotted out to advertise these products.”

  He tugged on his ear. “Oh, this ought to do it, all right, but somebody might wonder what you’re selling here.”

  Mallory treated him to a superior look. “If they want to know, they’ll have to come inside. Did you just drop by to brighten my day, or did you bring the estimate for my house?”

  He tapped a folded sheet of paper in his pocket. “I brought the estimate, but I knew you’d be thrilled to see me, too.”

  Mallory bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Darn it, why did he have to be so appealing? She didn’t want this. No way was she ready for this.

  He gestured to the pictures of the “soiled doves”. “It’s been rumored that this was the profession of Wyatt Earp’s third wife.”

  Ah, this she could deal with. “You mean Josie? How nice for him to get a woman with experience.”

  Jack threw back his head and laughed. “You never give an inch, do you?”

  Although she didn’t want to, Mallory found herself experiencing prickles of delight at the deep sound. “I try not to,” she admitted with a quirky smile. “And you should learn not to listen to rumors.” She tossed the remaining pictures in the box and dusted her hands. “Can I see the estimate now?”

  He slipped the paper out and handed it to her. “Yes, ma’am.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb.

  Mallory took it and flipped it open. Carefully, she studied the projected cost of the repairs and renovations. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it was almost exactly what she had budgeted to spend after she’d figured in the addition of another bedroom.

  Happiness shone in her face as she looked up at Jack. “This looks fine. In fact, it’s great. I can’t tell you what it means to have a place of our own.”

  His eyes met hers. “Everyone needs someplace to belong,” he said with quiet seriousness.

  Mallory refolded the estimate with a delighted sigh. “Then I guess Tombstone is where we belong. When can you start?”

  Slowly, Jack straightened away from the door frame. His eyes tracked the joy in her eyes and the soft flush on her cheeks. His teasing smile softened, making her feel as though melted butter had begun pouring through her veins. “Whenever you say, Mallory. It’s up to you.”

  Why did she suddenly have the feeling that they were no longer talking about the house?

  She had to concentrate hard to form an answer. “Soon, then,” she said. She stared up at him, noting the slight sheen of the smooth skin on his jaw and smelling the tang of his after-shave, a familiar brand her father often used. Somehow, it didn’t trigger thoughts of her sweet, comfortable father, though. It made her recall how long it had been since she’d been close to or held tightly by a virile, sexy man.

  The green of his eyes darkened as he looked at her. They touched on several points of her features, then settled on her lips. Mallory couldn’t keep herself from treating his to a similar inspection. His mouth was firm, not full like her own. She wondered what it would feel like if the two of them were to touch. Would the contact seal them together in a oneness that would block out the rest of the world?

  Would it be as violently explosive as she feared?

  When his mouth opened, she almost raised herself on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and found out for herself. When he spoke, her attention darted to his knowing eyes.

  “Oh, yes,” he answered. “We’ll start soon.”

  “Really?” she sighed, settling onto her heels. At this moment, she wouldn’t mind starting anything at al
l that he suggested.

  “We’re almost finished with our current job.”

  The practical statement brought her back to earth with a crash. “What?”

  “The house,” he prompted, but his voice and expression were ripe with amusement.

  “Oh!” Heat rushed into her face. “Yes. Oh, yes, of course. The house.” She cleared her throat. “That sounds fine.”

  She crackled the paper between her fingers as if it was some kind of lifeline to reality. What on earth had she been thinking? How could she have forgotten where she was, who she was with, that Sammi would be coming downstairs ready for work any second now?

  She cleared her throat again. “Thank you for bringing this estimate over. I’ve got to get back to my window display.” She had meant to sound brisk and businesslike, but her words came out in a breathless rush. She had hoped to prompt him on his way, but instead, he stood where he was, considering her.

  “Mallory, if you’re going to live in this town, you need to know more about its history.”

  She drew back. “I know a great deal about its history.”

  “But have you heard it from the Clanton side?”

  “I’ve never cared for fairy tales.”

  That got his eyes to glowing. “Oh, really?”

  What was the matter with her? She’d never been this reckless before, but she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, really.”

  “Don’t be a coward. How about a few lessons?” He glanced at her mouth. “In history, I mean.”

  “I know everything I need to know, at least for now. Thank you anyway.”

  “Meaning you’re afraid of learning the truth. Customers will be asking you questions about this town. You’d better know the answers.”

  “I can simply refer them to you since you know everything.”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t you know knowledge is power?”

  “You think I want power over my customers?” she asked in a flat voice.