Promises Prevail

by Sarah McCarty

  She fought to hold his gaze and admitted, “I’m glad you think so.”

  His low laugh surrounded her like a hug. “So am I, Sunshine. So am I.”

  He cupped her elbow. “I’ll meet you at the bakery in about three hours?” he confirmed as he helped her up the wooden steps.

  She nodded. “Mara said Lorie has it all under control.”

  “But I imagine you’re anxious to see for yourself?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I would be.”

  In that case she didn’t feel badly admitting the truth. “I am.”

  He opened the door to the mercantile. The little bell above the door jangled as she turned. He looked over her head into the shop, and a fleeting frown creased his forehead before he took her mouth with his, kissing her hard and passionately, like a man making a point. When she was gasping for breath, he pulled back, smoothing the moisture from her lips with his thumb. He gently flicked Bri’s nose, his hard face softening as she screwed up her face in responses.

  “I’ll catch up with you later.” With a tip of his hat to the occupants of the shop behind her, he was off. She watched him head down the wooden walk, his long legs eating up distance with that smooth, effortless grace that spoke of power. He was a fine figure of a man—broad shouldered, lean hipped, and all hers. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to it.

  Bri squirmed and she shifted her up on her hip. The paper in her hand rustled. Bracing Bri on her forearm, she opened the list and read his additions. He wanted her to have a muff for her hands, fancy dresses, new boots, the rose powder she liked, chocolate, cooking utensils, clothes for her and Brianna, chocolate.

  The repeat of chocolate made her smile. He didn’t have to look too deeply to see her liking for that, but it was what he added last that brought tears to her eyes. She brushed the pad of her thumb over the hastily written list. There, in his bold masculine scrawl were the words, Anything your heart desires.

  She was beginning to think he meant it.

  * * * * *

  An hour later both Jenna and Brianna were played out. The mail order catalogue was filled with every conceivable item a human could want. And at prices that made her gasp. Like how much they wanted for that fancy new dress she kept coming back to over and over.

  “Everything all right, Mrs. McKinnely?” Eloise Fawcett asked.

  Jenna winced. She must have gasped aloud again. She glanced between the stacks of new denims until she located Eloise. She was behind the counter portioning sugar into small bags.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need some help?” Eloise’s eyes were a warm blue under her raised brows.

  “Oh no. There are just so many options…”

  “It’s amazing, all the things they come up with back East, isn’t it?” she asked without breaking her rhythm.

  It was more than amazing. It was mind-staggering. “Yes.”

  “Do you need more paper?” She tucked a pencil into her soft brown hair.

  “Gracious no.” Jenna didn’t know how she was going to sort through everything she’d already put down as a possible.

  “That Clint can be an impatient one, can’t he?” Eloise didn’t wait for a response, just launched into the rest of what she wanted to say. “Imagine giving a new bride only one day to make all of her purchases.”

  Jenna didn’t correct Eloise’s assumption. It was better that the pushy shopkeeper think this was a one-shot deal instead of the open invitation she had a feeling Clint intended to extend. Bri began to fuss again. She jostled her on her hip while trying desperately to add the impossibly long row of numbers. No matter what Clint had said, there was no way he could want her to spend this much.

  “Why I remember when he bought Elijah’s place. He wanted everything now, without a thought to the expense, not to mention how difficult it is to get items freighted.”

  “It was nice of you to accommodate him.” She looked down at her list. She hadn’t realized it would cost money to freight the items on top of paying for them.

  “We were happy to do it. Fawcett Mercantile prides itself on meeting all its patrons’ needs with the utmost efficiency.” Eloise grabbed up the small bags, disappearing from sight for a second as she turned to put them on the shelf behind her.

  “I’m sure Clint appreciated it.” And they made a hefty profit, but being a businesswoman herself, Jenna couldn’t begrudge Eloise the success.

  Eloise popped back into view, smoothing her apron and then her hair. “We are the ones who appreciate the business.”

  Jenna ignored the “we”. Technically, Eloise co-owned the mercantile with her brother, but the one who did the work and made it a viable business was Eloise. Her brother Mark merely pocketed his half of the profits and wandered through every gambling saloon in the west losing it as fast as she sent it. He only came back into town when he needed more money. Thank God it had been a year since his last visit.

  Bri’s fidgeting escalated to fussing. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to finish this later. Bri needs attention.”

  “Do you want to use the back room?”

  Her “no” was probably a bit hasty to be polite, but there was no way Jenna was going back there. Even if Mark was hundreds of miles away. “I need to check out things at Sweet Thyme anyway.”

  Eloise nodded, a frown marring her pleasant features. “Lorie seems to be doing a good job, but you can never be too careful. It’s not the same as you being there.”

  No, it wasn’t. But she seriously didn’t know how she was going to manage running a home, being a mother, and running the bakery. Right now she was baking a lot at Clint’s home and having one of the hands drive the goods in, but even that was getting difficult. It would be ideal if Lorie was a great baker, but while she did phenomenal bread, her other baked goods were lackluster, though getting better.

  Laying Bri on the counter, Jenna folded her list and tucked it into her pocket as she reached for her cloak. She swung it around her shoulders. As it flared behind her, there was a huge crash. She froze. Oh heavens! What had she broken?

  A flash of movement caught her eyes. A blur of black and brown before Eloise’s husband Dan leapt out of the back room and pulled the blur to a halt.

  “Got you!” It was a boy. A wild-haired, wild-eyed, filthy boy. His dark skin and darker eyes proclaimed him Indian. The torn clothes and rail-thin frame proclaimed him homeless. Dan pulled him up short by a handful of shirt and hair.

  The boy swung around with his fist, threats tumbling from his mouth in an incomprehensible torrent of sound. The blow glanced off of Dan’s groin. Dan’s curses joined the melee as he raised his fist. His fist was huge, a grown man against a gangly boy. Jenna caught her breath and released it on a protest, “Don’t!”

  Dan ignored her cry, punching the boy in the stomach, letting him drop as he doubled over and heaved. “Damn thieving Indian!”

  With a quick glance to make sure Bri was secure, Jenna raced around the counter and between the aisles. She got there just in time to hear Dan order Eloise to go get the sheriff, and to see the boy whip a knife out of his threadbare moccasin.

  “No!”

  She grabbed for his wrist. She missed. The knife slashed past her skirts. She screamed for Clint as loud as she could as Dan kicked the knife out of the boy’s hand, bringing his foot back again.

  She did the only thing she could think to do. She threw herself over the boy, wrapping herself around his scrawny, writhing body, and yelled, “Don’t. Don’t.”

  She closed her eyes and braced herself to take the kick. It glanced off her shoulder, much of the force gone.

  “Goddamn it, Mrs. McKinnely, get the hell away from that filthy Indian.”

  The boy lay still beneath her. His bones so prominent they poked her through her clothes. She could feel the chill of his flesh against her hands. She opened her eyes. He was staring back at her, his eyes such a deep brown that they were almost black. There was anger and hat
red in his gaze, and somewhere way down deep beneath the negative, a flicker of hope.

  “Get off me.” At least he spoke English. Bri screamed, scared and alone, across the room. The boy frowned at her. In that instant he looked so familiar, she knew, knew who he was. Everything in her went hard with determination.

  “No.” She turned her head so she could meet Dan’s eyes, pressing hard with her bad leg over the boy’s thighs. She ignored the cramping pain that immediately commenced. “Don’t touch my son.”

  “I know you got a soft heart and all, Mrs. McKinnely, but saying it doesn’t make it so.” Dan said.

  “Yes it does.” If she had to call in the McKinnely muscle, she was making it so.

  Beneath her the boy froze, as if her words stole his ability to breathe. Across the room, Bri let loose with the full power of her lungs. Jenna didn’t know what to do beyond what she was doing, so she held on and waited for inspiration to occur.

  “That’s one lowlife piece of scum you don’t want to be laying claim to. He’s been stealing from me for weeks.” Dan reached down to help her up.

  “Don’t touch me and don’t touch my son.” Jenna hunched her shoulder away from his hand.

  Again, Dan ignored her as if she hadn’t spoken. His fingers curled around her upper arm, and the boy sprang to life, heaving her off. He was incredibly strong. As Dan lifted her, the boy struck, kicking him hard in the groin, and shoving her behind him. His filthy hair slapped her in the face as a string of threats fell from his mouth. She didn’t know what he was saying, but she knew they were threats from the way he stood, ready to take on all comers, defending her. Dan got to his feet, his face red, murder in his eyes.

  “Run!” Jenna pushed the boy aside.

  He stumbled two steps and then pushed back, trying to get between her and Dan. She needed help. She needed Clint. She screamed for him as Dan lunged, reaching around her for the boy who was leaping forward to meet him.

  She bit Dan’s arm, pushing him back with all her might. Behind her the boy pressed forward, shoving Dan’s hands away. Bri’s screams mingled with hers as Dan grabbed her jaw.

  “Dan, I’m trying to think real hard on why I shouldn’t slit your throat, but I’m fast running out of reasons.”

  Jenna turned. Clint stood in the aisle, dwarfing the room, his black eyes flat and hard, his hand on the hilt of his big knife.

  “Don’t let him hurt my son, Clint,” she begged, grabbing for the boy’s arm. She caught the edge of his sleeve as he jumped at the sight of Clint. She couldn’t blame him. Clint in a snit was as cold and as scary as it got.

  Only by an arch of his brow did Clint register his surprise that she’d claimed the boy.

  “The boy isn’t her son,” Dan growled. “He’s a damned thief. Been stealing from me for weeks.”

  Clint’s second eyebrow joined the first. “Did Jenna say the boy’s our son?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked over at Jenna. Nothing in his expression gave away what he was thinking. She clutched the boy’s arm harder, her stomach sinking. As if he sensed her fear, the boy edged in front of her. Another quick arch of Clint’s brow, a quirk of his lips, and maybe a hint of approval? He turned to Dan and shrugged. “Then it’s so.”

  The boy broke free from her grip. Clint caught him as he sped by.

  “Be careful!” Jenna cried, biting her lip as her leg gave, catching herself on the counter. “He’s hurt.”

  Clint held him away from his body, letting him swing and curse, feet dangling off the floor. He glanced at Jenna. “Hurt?”

  “Dan punched him in the stomach!”

  “Stay.” Clint lowered the boy’s feet to the floor. The boy didn’t move. Clint caught Jenna’s hand and steadied her as he asked Dan, “You punched a kid in the stomach? My kid?”

  “He tried to kick him, too,” Jenna added.

  “Tried?” Clint pushed Jenna behind him, keeping his eye on Dan.

  “The kid pulled a damned knife,” Dan interjected, as if that made a difference.

  “Can’t imagine why, when a grown man starts whaling on him.”

  “Jesus Christ, McKinnely.” Dan glanced over his shoulder before stepping back. “He’s a goddamn thief.”

  Behind him, Clint heard Jenna’s outraged gasp. Her hands touched the small of his back. If she asked him to kill the guy he would, but she just stood there, her hands pressing into him, letting him make the decision, her anxiety surrounding him like a cloud.

  “He’s my son,” Clint said, letting the cold calm that came with fury encase him. “There’s no way he can be a thief.”

  “How the hell do you figure that?”

  “Because he can have any goddamn thing he wants.”

  Clint turned, caught Jenna’s hand, and pointed her toward the door. A smudge on the shoulder of her cloak caught his eye. He knew a boot print when he saw one. The rage flashed bright and hot through his calm.

  “You son of a bitch.” He spun around, the room dissolving out of focus, his being concentrated on the only thing that mattered.

  “It was an accident, Clint.” Dan threw up his hands and took another step back.

  “I don’t care.” Clint took two steps forward.

  “She threw herself over the boy.” Dan backed up against the counter. “I couldn’t pull back.”

  “I don’t care.” Clint closed the gap between them.

  Dan threw the first punch. Clint blocked it easily and sank his fist deep into the son of a bitch’s stomach, in his mind picturing Jenna on the floor, her body shielding the boy, and the hulking bastard kicking her. Them. Using his size against a small woman and a half-starved boy. Against his family.

  He hit him again, and again, easily dodging the other man’s attempts to fight back, knocking him back over the counter, following him over with an easy leap. The man didn’t get up, just lay there hands up, admitting defeat. The urge to put a bullet in his brain was almost irresistible.

  “Clint.” Jenna’s voice seeped through the anger.

  “Go wait outside.”

  There was a pause and then, “No.”

  He turned, his hair whipping over his shoulder. “No?”

  She stood there, her hands clenched before her, her lip between her teeth, visibly pale and shaking, and defied him again.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s enough. I want to go home. Our daughter and son are hungry and I refuse to let them suffer while you amuse yourself.”

  “Amuse myself?” He straightened. “I’m avenging you.”

  “No. You’re angry and taking it out on others. Avenging me would stop at a punch or taking your business elsewhere.”

  “And how would you know?”

  “Because that would be fair.” Fair? The woman hadn’t known a day of fair in her whole life, and suddenly she was an expert?

  “What are you telling me, Sunshine?”

  “I want to go home, Clint. I want to take my children and my husband, and I want to go home.” Her big blue eyes shimmered with fear and a need that tore a hole in his chest.

  Where she felt safe. He understood. Damn, he’d wanted this trip into town to be good for her. He glanced down at Dan. “If you touch my wife or kids again, I’ll gut you. And I’ll take my time about it, too.”

  “Jesus, Clint, it was an accident.”

  “There are no accidents when it comes to my family.”

  “I didn’t know the kid belonged to you.”

  The man actually believed that made a difference. That there was ever an excuse for a grown man to beat on a kid. He glanced over at the skinny excuse for a boy who was holding Bri. The boy who’d done his best to put himself between Jenna and Dan. The family resemblance between Bri and the boy was strong.

  “He was just hungry, Dan.”

  “It’s not my job to feed the world.”

  “No, it’s not.” Clint settled his Stetson back on his head. “You can send the final settlement of my ac
counts to my house.”

  He walked around the counter. Jenna reached him as he rounded the corner, her arms going aground him. She hugged him as if he were hurt and needed soothing. The softness of her breasts pressed into his stomach as her cheek rested against his chest. He cupped her head in his hand and pulled her closer. Let the softness of her ease over him, soothing the beast that prowled within, filling the dark hole that housed his rage.

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “How did you know to come?” Her hands stroked his back.

  “Eloise.”

  “Dan sent her for the sheriff.”

  “She fetched me instead.”

  “Oh.”

  “Did he hurt you?” He touched her shoulder lightly over the smudge, probing gently.

  “No, but I think Bri’s brother is hurt.”

  “We’ll take him to Doc’s. Dorothy will fix him a good meal.”

  “He needs it.” She propped her chin on his chest, much more comfortable with his nearness now. “He’s so skinny.”

  He could tell that offended her personally. “He’ll fill out with a few square meals under his belt.”

  “I hope so.” A pause and then, “Do you mind?”

  He kissed her lips. “No. But I do mind you getting hurt.”

  “I couldn’t let him kick him.”

  “You could have waited.”

  “Would you?”

  “No. But I’m a man.”

  “And I’m a woman.”

  “My woman.”

  “Yes.” She leaned back, “I know he was stealing but he obviously doesn’t have anyone to care for him.”

  “I said I didn’t mind.” He kissed her again, longer this time, breathing in her scent and her generous spirit as he did.

  The boy stared at them across the aisle, suspicion, aggression, and challenge in his dark gaze. He looked so much like Cougar had when he’d blown into town almost twenty years ago that Clint couldn’t help but smile.

  “I think the boy and I will get along just fine.”