Rico nodded. “That’s what I thought. Mr. Salvatore is my father’s name. The children may call me that if they like, but sometimes I may forget to answer them.”
“As you wish. Is there something you wanted?”
He put his hat back on his head. “Reese sent me with a message.”
Mary’s smile faltered. He had sent Rico to speak with her instead of coming himself. Perhaps he planned to pull out of town and leave Rock Creek to die in order to avoid her.
Mary blushed, and when Rico’s lips curved at the sight, she glanced away.
She only knew of his approach because the children shifted and mumbled; she did not hear his feet on the plank floor at all. The man might be charming, but he was still a bit spooky.
She raised her head. Rico was a flirt, but he was not wicked, and despite his frivolous air, he understood feelings. She liked him, even though she shouldn’t. He lowered his voice so the children would not hear. “He wishes to teach the women to shoot.”
She smiled. “He took my advice?”
“Your advice?” Rico chuckled. “El capitan said it was his idea when he spoke with the others, and perhaps it is best if you let them continue to believe that.” He shrugged. “They are rough men who sometimes need a certain convincing to change their ways.”
Mary hated to lie or even omit the truth, but if Reese thought it best, and Rico did too, she could hold her tongue. She would do whatever she must to make certain Rock Creek survived.
“He would like the women to meet outside the hotel just after dawn tomorrow. Can you arrange this for him?”
“Certainly.”
“Gracias, senorita. “He tipped his hat and bowed.
A giggle erupted from the first-year seats. Rico spun. Carrie clapped her hands over her mouth as if to stop the laughter from bursting free again. Her eyes were huge above her tiny fingertips.
Rico bowed to her as well. “And you, senorita, the sound of your laughter is like the water gurgling in springtime.”
Carrie’s hands dropped from her mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Frank and Jack rolled their eyes and groaned. Mary glared, and they stopped, an improvement over yesterday. She had to hide her own reaction as Rico strolled from the room and Carrie watched him go, her eyes bright with fascination.
Mary spent the rest of the day with only half her attention on the lessons, the other half occupied with listing the women she must speak with that afternoon and evening. And, in a tiny corner of her mind, nagged a question: Was Reese avoiding her? And if so, how would she make him stop?
Chapter 8
Mary didn’t see Reese the entire day. Since she ran from one end of town to the next, speaking with every widow, daughter, and mother she could find over sixteen years of age, she concluded he was avoiding her.
Come dawn, Reese would be unable to avoid her any longer. Though with over a dozen women present, as well as his men, perhaps it would be easier to elude her than ever before.
As Mary made her rounds, she was both excited and anxious. If her idea worked, Rock Creek would not be subject to the whim of every band of outlaws and cutthroats that drifted through this part of Texas.
The people could make El Diablo leave by a show of force instead of hired murder, and they could continue to keep their homes safe. She wished she’d thought of this before hiring Reese and his friends. Then again there would have been no one to teach them of weapons and killing if not for those same men.
Along with her excitement over the possibilities came anxiety over the decided lack of enthusiasm from the Rock Creek women. They nodded and smiled when Mary made her speech, then noted the place and time and wished her good day. She left every house feeling as if she’d done something slightly scandalous.
Only Jo expressed unbounded zeal when Mary came to call, and she would have to sneak out of the house to take part in the operation.
Reverend Clancy would preach Hellfire when he found out. And he would find out sooner or later. Mary was hoping for later.
With the lukewarm response of the majority, Mary should not have been surprised to receive one vehement protest in the form of Baxter Sutton. She and Rose were talking at the front of the store when Baxter butted in.
“No wife of mine is going near those men.” Rose blanched at the sound of her husband’s voice and moved away as if Mary had the plague. “I never asked you to bring them here in the first place, Miss McKendrick.”
“You’re angry because they pulled guns on you, and you have every right to be.”
“They’re a disgrace—thieves and murderers you’ve brought amid decent folk—and they should be run out of town.”
Mary had been willing to give Sutton a few inches, but as usual, he took the whole mile. “Need I remind you that without them we’d all have been run out of town?”
He sniffed. “That remained to be seen. You never give things a chance to work themselves out. Even with the twins. You never gave them a chance.”
“To set fire to the schoolhouse?” Mary murmured.
“That’s just what I mean. They weren’t going to burn it They were just playing.”
“With fire and whitewashed boards?”
Sutton waved away the details. “At the first sign of trouble, you plow ahead, run roughshod over everyone. It’s little wonder you’ve never married. At first I thought it was because you’re so plain, but in the dark plain doesn’t matter.”
“Baxter!” Rose gasped, but when he scowled at her, she grew quiet, and she stopped looking at Mary altogether.
“You can overlook a plain face, but a woman who can’t shut up, who won’t stop tellin’ a man what to do, that’s another matter entirely. That doesn’t go away when the lights go out. So like I said, I can see why you’re a spinster.”
Mary tightened her lips to keep hateful words from tumbling forth. As Sister Hortensia always said, “Two wrongs do not make a right.” Being mean to Baxter would not miraculously turn him into a decent human being. Otherwise she’d have done it a long time ago.
Mary took a deep, calming breath, then another and another until the desire to kick Baxter Sutton in his skinny shins went away. “My state of matrimony, or lack of it, is not the issue. The issue is life and death. I can’t understand why you wouldn’t want Rose to be able to protect herself.”
“She doesn’t need to protect herself. She’s got me.”
Pointing out that Sutton was so terrified of El Diablo that he’d never once ventured outside when the bandit rode into Rock Creek was probably not the best course of action, no matter how vindicating such a reprisal might be.
“If you don’t want Rose to come, then why don’t you?”
“Me?” He blinked at her bug-eyed. “Me? I know how to use a gun! Do you think I don’t know how to use a gun? Just because I don’t walk down the street with a weapon in my hands doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use one. You know what they say about fellows with big guns, don’t you?”
Mary opened her mouth, then shut it, stumped. Sutton snickered. “That’s what I thought.”
Sister Hortensia forgive her, but she’d had enough. “At least Reese and his men have grit.”
His beady eyes narrowed. “If it takes grit to kill someone, then I’d rather be without it, thank you.”
“You’re without a spine, that’s for sure.”
He went red, started sputtering, and pointed at the door, so before he could throw her out bodily, Mary went. She really should learn to keep her mouth shut and her opinions to herself, but sometimes that was just too much to ask.
Mary didn’t sleep well that night, and in the morning she awakened long before light tinted the eastern horizon. Meandering into the parlor, she blew out the lamp in the window, then opened the curtains and stared up at the steeple.
Since the first time she’d watched Reese disappear into the church and reappear in the bell tower, she’d kept a lamp burning. The thought of being up there all alone, all night long, with
the whistling Texas wind in her face had made her shiver. She hadn’t wanted Reese, or any of the others, to feel that alone, so she’d started leaving the lamp in the window. Whether they even saw the light or cared, she didn’t know, but it made her feel better.
After dressing for the day, Mary unearthed the gun that had come with the cabin. No house in Texas seemed to be without one, but that didn’t mean every owner could hit the broad side of a barn if they pulled the trigger.
Hurrying toward the hotel, Mary observed a deserted Main Street. Where was everyone? The scent of smoke reached her seconds before she sighted the man who stood at the top of the steps, leaning against the porch post. Why was Reese the only one outside?
As she approached, he blew smoke between those lips she’d kissed, then tilted his head to peer at her from beneath the wide black brim of his hat. “Where is everyone, Miss McKendrick?”
They were back to “Miss” again. There would be no mention of their passionate embrace, and that was probably for the best. Still, it irked her that the man could look her in the eye and pretend he’d never had that mouth on her neck—and various other places.
She straightened. “I could ask you the same question.”
“I’m here.”
“But where are the rest of your men?”
He took his time answering, drawing in a mouthful of smoke, then allowing the gray whirl to drift away on the stillness. “The two that were on watch last night are sleeping. Two more will be on watch while we work. I think I’ll be enough for this morning. It doesn’t appear that we’re drawing a crowd.”
“I’d hoped for more than me.” She glanced down the street. Still empty. “I don’t understand.”
“How many said they would come?”
She stared at her feet. “One.”
“Just you?”
“One besides me.”
“Let me guess. Miss Clancy?” Mary nodded. “I wouldn’t depend on her. From the reverend’s manner, he doesn’t like us much. No one does.”
Mary lifted her gaze. “I do.”
Their eyes met, and sparks ignited. He cursed and pinched the tiny butt of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger before holding it to his lips for one final drag. Then he flicked the remains to the dirt, descended the steps, and ground the embers into nothing.
“How did you get this town to agree to hiring us? I know you manage things awfully well, Miss Mary, but the way folks are behaving, they didn’t want us here at all.”
“No one else had a plan—or any money.”
He laughed. “Money does talk.”
“They’ll come around; you’ll see.”
“It doesn’t matter if they do or they don’t. I won’t be here long enough to care.”
“Then why do you care if they don’t want you here?”
“I just don’t want a bullet in the back.”
It was her turn to laugh. “If they couldn’t shoot El Diablo, I doubt they’ll be able to shoot you.”
“True enough.”
Mary tightened her fingers around the barrel of the rifle. “Show me how to use this thing.”
The words came out sounding like an order, and when Reese raised a brow, Mary colored. Why did she always manage everything?
Because someone had to.
“Sorry,” she said. “Would you please show me how to use this thing?”
“What about the others? This isn’t going to work if there’s only you standing with us against El Diablo. The idea was to make a show of force.”
“We will. Let’s just continue. Once everyone sees what I’m doing, once they think on things a while, I’m sure they’ll join in. If not today or tomorrow, eventually.”
“We don’t have until eventually.”
“I can’t quit before I even try.”
“Why don’t you let me and the others take care of this. A few weeks…” He shrugged. “They’ll all be buzzard bait.”
Mary winced. “Thank you for that image.”
“You hired us to kill them. Let us do what we do best.”
“I did not hire you to kill them. I don’t want their deaths on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
“You’re crazy, lady.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
She heard the echo of her words and frowned.
They’d had this conversation before, but the other way around.
Were they so alike they were starting to speak each other’s thoughts? How could she, a plain spinster schoolteacher, raised by nuns, have anything in common with a handsome captain of mercenaries? But she did. More than she had in common with any of the people in this town—even Jo. Mary felt as if she knew Reese, deep down inside, which was silly, since she knew nothing about him—not even his true name.
“I was raised to respect life,” she said quietly.
“Those men respect nothing but their own desires. You can’t fight people like that with Christian platitudes.”
“Why not?
He threw up his hands. “There’s no arguing with you.”
“I’m glad you finally agree. Now, where shall we have our lesson?”
At first, Reese looked as if he wanted to shake her; then he started to laugh, a rusty sound, rarely used. When Mary thought back on the days she’d known him, she could think of few times when he’d laughed, and never like this. She smiled shyly, uncertain of what she’d done that was funny, but if it made him laugh, then she wanted to do it again.
Reese set his hand on her rifle. Mary didn’t let go.
“I just wanted to carry your gun, Miss McKendrick. Kind of like carrying your books home from school.”
Bewildered, she let him take the weapon. He checked the chamber then put the barrel over his shoulder. “I made a place yesterday afternoon, out past the end of town, away from the livery and the animals. Got some hay bales from the barn and some burlap flour sacks from old Baxter. That man is one cranky son of a bitch.”
Mary opened her mouth to correct his French then closed it again. Baxter was exactly what he’d said. She wasn’t going to waste breath arguing about that.
“Let’s shoot some flour sacks, Miss Mary.” He held out his arm. “Just you and me.”
*
As stupid choices went, agreeing to teach Mary how to shoot—just the two of them—was one of Reese’s stupidest.
She wasn’t trying to drive him mad with lust. Mary wouldn’t know how, which was the reason Reese remained in a constant state of arousal for the entire lesson.
Her innocence stirred him. She might be a spinster lady, all on her own in the wilds of Texas, managing a town of cowards, fools, and women as if she were Stonewall Jackson himself, but she had no idea of her own appeal, which only made her more appealing.
He’d shown her how to load the rifle. That had been the easy part. Showing her how to hold the weapon meant he had to touch her. Mary’s skin was the softest thing Reese had ever known. Just skimming her pale hands with his palms made them hum to touch her everywhere.
Teaching her how to fire the gun meant he had to move up close behind and put his arms around her. She kept bumping her backside against his groin. The first time, he’d hissed in pain; after that, he’d started to like it.
She had no idea what she was doing. If she turned around and saw his state, she’d probably think she’d bruised him so badly he was swollen. Would she then want to bandage him and kiss it better?
Reese cursed.
Mary’s shot went wide of every hay bale in line. “I’m sorry! I’ll keep trying.”
He grunted. If she kept trying, she wouldn’t be looking at him, which was a good thing. But if anyone else happened to wander by, they would know exactly what was the matter with him, especially his men.
Reese tugged his shirt out of his pants so the material hung to his thighs. He did not need the men teasing him in front of Mary. They’d ruin her radiant innocence with their big mouths alone.
Of course, if she kept bumping
her backside against him he’d ruin her innocence for real. And that could not happen. She might be unschooled, but he was far from it. If he took what he wanted, she’d never be the same again, and neither would he. Reese needed to stop torturing himself with promises of something that could never, ever, be.
“How long did it take you to learn how to shoot a gun?”
Reese glanced at Mary with narrowed eyes, but she was still sighting down the barrel, attempting to hit something other than nothing.
She pulled the trigger. “Oh!” she exclaimed when the bullet plunged into a corner of a burlap sack. “I hit something!”
“Was that what you were aiming at?”
She put the rifle down and glanced over her shoulder with a sheepish expression. “I was shooting at the one two bales over.”
He couldn’t help it; he grinned. She was absolutely hopeless with a gun. Probably because she didn’t want to hurt the damn hay.
She smiled back. “How long did it take you to learn?”
He didn’t want to share his past with anyone, but a few selected memories might cool him off quicker than jumping in the river. What harm could there be in answering such a simple question? “My father taught me to hunt when I was a boy.”
“Is he still alive?”
Pain flooded Reese, recriminations too. Here was the harm. You couldn’t select memories. God knows he’d tried. Memories came unbidden.
“Yes,” Reese said, shortly.
“And your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Where do they live?”
“At home.”
“In Georgia?”
He brought his gaze, which had focused on the distant hills, back to her. Well, one thing for certain, he no longer had to worry about Mary, or anyone else, wondering what he had hidden in his pants. Speaking of home had killed any lingering, lustful thoughts.
“How did you know I was from Georgia?” he demanded, ready to kick someone’s rear into the next county. The men knew better than to talk about him to anyone else.
“I didn’t for certain. Your horse—Atlanta. And your accent.” She sighed. “Your voice reminds takes me back.”
“I thought you were from Virginia.”
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