Dragging her gaze up to his face, she asked, “Would you like to stay for lunch?”
“I think I’ve intruded enough for one day,” Jake said.
“C’mon, Mr. Cordell, please stay. Ma makes the best peach cobbler in the world,” Johnny added.
“Well, thank you, young man,” Kit said fondly, smoothing down his cowlick. She glanced at Jake, noticing a tuft of unruly hair in the same place as Johnny’s. Quickly she looked away. Taking a deep breath, she forced the corners of her lips to turn upward. “Really, it’s no problem, Jake. I have more than enough.”
“As long as I’m not intruding.”
“You aren’t,” Kit reassured. “Johnny, show Jake where the sink is. And don’t forget to wash your own hands.”
Johnny led him through the kitchen, which had changed little since Jake had lived there. For a split second he could envision his mother next to the stove, her cheeks rosy, ebony tendrils curling about her face. Jake nearly stumbled in his haste to escape the apparition, and he followed Johnny to the enclosed porch.
Standing by the pump, Johnny snorted. “Why does Ma always make me wash up? A little dirt ain’t going to hurt.”
“Because that’s what women do. Besides, don’t you think we’d get awfully dirty if they weren’t around to remind us?” Jake winked at the boy.
“I don’t care. I like being dirty.”
Jake tried to remember how his father had handled his stubborn petulance. “Well, let’s humor her and clean up, because we may not get any of that cobbler if we don’t.”
After a moment’s thought, Johnny agreed.
When they were done, Johnny wrapped his small fingers around Jake’s hand. Surprised by the trusting gesture, Jake instinctively squeezed the boy’s hand.
Jake wished his own father had given him some sign of affection. He couldn’t remember his father ever holding his hand or telling him he loved him. For a fleeting moment he wondered what it would be like to have a child. He sure as hell would spend more time with him than Jonathan Cordell had spared his son.
Kit placed the last of the bowls on the table and turned to see Jake and Johnny enter the dining room hand in hand. Her heart plowed into her ribs, missing a few beats. She’d often dreamed of seeing father and son together in this house. Yet the reality of it troubled her, and she wondered if someone might see the resemblance between the man and the boy: the deep brown eyes and strong, square-cut jaw. Thankfully, Johnny had inherited his mother’s lighter colored hair, as well as her generous mouth. With a little luck, nobody would see the similarities as clearly as Kit did.
“I hope you both washed good,” she said.
Jake winked at Johnny, who giggled, and the two of them raised their hands.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake replied dutifully.
Kit shook her head, unable to resist the playful glimmer in Jake’s dark eyes. Despite the gunbelt slung low on his hips, she glimpsed a side of the teasing young man she’d known before he’d left Chaney.
Laughing, she took one of Jake’s strong hands in hers, pretending to inspect it. The long, slender fingers curved around her palm for a moment, and the light sprinkling of hair across the back of his hand tickled her. Her breath seemed to rasp more loudly in her ears. Startled by her body’s response, she glanced at Jake. His rugged face had gone still except for his untelling eyes, which studied her closely.
She swallowed, releasing him like a hot branding iron. Struggling to keep her voice even, she said, “You pass inspection.”
Turning to her son, she examined his hands. Would they grow as strong as his father’s? Already she could see that the same blunt nails capped Johnny’s fingertips. Trembling, she released her son, not noticing if he’d cleaned well or not. “Okay, you can go sit down, too.”
Trying to regain her aplomb, Kit brought the food from the kitchen and deposited it on the table, then joined Jake and Johnny.
During the lively meal, Johnny stole the majority of Jake’s attention.
“Ma said you used to live here when you were my size,” Johnny said.
“That’s right,” Jake said. “But I didn’t spend a lot of time here.”
Johnny’s face scrunched up. “Why not?”
“Whenever my father had to leave town on business, he’d put me with someone to stay with until he got home.”
“What about your ma?”
“It was just my pa and me,” Jake replied.
Kit detected the bitter hurt in his voice, and wanted to touch him, to lend him her understanding. Instead, she laid her clenched hands in her lap.
“Do you like living here?” Jake asked Johnny.
The boy’s eyes sparkled. “Yep. I play with Toby and Jasper and the other animals. And Ma promised she’d teach me how to ride pretty soon. And I like to explore.”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?”
Johnny shook his head. “I got Ma and Charlie and Ethan and Pete and Toby.”
Jake smiled. “I’ve met Toby, but who’re Charlie, Ethan, and Pete?”
“Charlie and Ethan work here, and Pete is an old Indian who came with the ranch,” Kit answered. “I’m surprised he wasn’t around when you lived here.”
“He teaches me all kind of things,” Johnny interjected. “Like how to count coup, and how to scalp folks.”
Jake’s mouth twitched with amusement, and he winked at Kit. “Looks like you’re going to have a little warrior in the family.”
“See, Ma? Even Mr. Cordell thinks so,” Johnny said in an I-told-you-so tone.
Kit chuckled. “Pete considers himself Johnny’s grandfather, and in his tribe, the elders taught the children.” She shrugged. “Pete’s heart is in the right place.”
“Will you teach me how to ride, Mr. Cordell?” Johnny asked. “Ma said she would, but she’s always too busy.”
“Johnny, it’s not polite to ask such a thing. As soon as I have some time, I’ll teach you,” Kit said.
Jake finished his dessert and pushed back his empty plate. “I suspect I won’t be real busy with my law practice to start with, so I wouldn’t mind giving Johnny some riding lessons.”
Johnny whooped with joy. “Is it okay, Ma? Please?”
Kit folded her napkin and placed it on the table. One of the reasons she hadn’t found the time was because she was fearful for his safety. Despite Johnny’s affinity for animals, a horse was still unpredictable, and Johnny could be hurt. Gazing at her son’s expectant face, she couldn’t come up with a single reason to forbid it. “All right, as long as it doesn’t take too much of Jake’s time.”
The grandfather clock in the front room struck two.
“Time to do your chores, Johnny,” Kit said.
The boy slid off his chair and moved to Jake’s side. “When can we start?”
“Next time I come visit,” Jake replied.
“When’ll that be?”
“A day or two. Deal?” He stuck out his hand.
“Deal,” Johnny replied, and his small hand was swallowed up by Jake’s larger one.
A few moments later, Kit heard the door open and close.
Jake smiled fondly. “He’s quite a boy.”
Kit planted an elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm. “He can talk your ear off when he gets going, but on the whole, he’s a good boy.”
“I remember being pretty contrary when I was his age. My father used to polish my backside good. It must’ve helped, because I didn’t lose my temper half as often.”
A smile twitched Kit’s lips. “At least not in front of him.” She sobered. “I’m sorry about your father. I was at the funeral, but I didn’t have time to talk to you. Judge Cordell always used to say hello to me and tip his hat like I was a real lady.”
Bitterness clouded Jake’s eyes. “My father wasn’t around much while I was growing up.” He laughed caustically. “Do you want to hear something funny? As much as I resented my father, I’ve become him.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jake waved a negligent hand. “Forget it.” He smiled, though the gesture appeared forced. “I do have something the great Jonathan Cordell doesn’t. Thanks to T. K. Thorne, I have a reputation.”
Kit shivered at his cynical tone.
“I’d best be getting back to town. I’ve got to talk to the doctor about that room above his office,” Jake said.
He stood and Kit led the way to the foyer. Plucking his hat and jacket off a peg, she handed them to him.
“Thank you for everything, Kit. I enjoyed the company, and the meal,” Jake said sincerely. “And if you have second thoughts about selling the ranch, let me know.”
She shook her head firmly. “That won’t happen, Jake.”
He grasped her hand gently, holding her captive. “Think about it, Kit. Think how much better off Johnny would be in town, close to school.”
His warm, callused palm pressed against hers, and awareness curled in Kit’s stomach. Her mind clouded and she worked to focus on his words. “I’ve worked too hard to give it up.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.” Releasing her, he stepped back. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Jake.”
After closing the door behind him, Kit peeked around the curtain and watched Jake stride into the barn.
A few minutes later he emerged, leading his horse. He mounted with natural grace and lifted a hand to Johnny, who’d followed him out of the barn. Tapping Zeus’s withers with his heels, Jake sent the horse into an easy gallop. Her son waved in farewell until Jake disappeared from view.
Kit leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Warring emotions roiled within her. She’d enjoyed seeing Jake again. However, she could already see a dangerous bond growing between Johnny and Jake. Maggie had always said Jake was a tumbleweed, and Kit didn’t want to see Johnny hurt when Jake left again.
She shouldn’t have raised her son’s hopes by permitting Jake to teach him how to ride. If Jake didn’t return, she would have to explain to Johnny what kind of man Jake was, and destroy her son’s illusion—the illusion she’d created with the Cordell stories.
After he returned from Kit’s, Jake went to the doctor’s office. The bell above the door announced his arrival, and Dr. Lewis stuck his head out of the back room. He scrutinized Jake closely, then frowned.
“What are you waiting for—an engraved invitation? Get in here and take your clothes off so I can examine you.” The cantankerous doctor’s gray eyes snapped impatiently.
“I’m not sick,” Jake replied.
“Then what the hell are you bothering me for? I’m a busy man.”
“My name’s Jake Cordell.”
“So what? My name’s Henry Lewis. Now go and bother someone else.” The doctor turned away.
“Wait,” Jake called. “I understand you have an office upstairs you’re looking to rent. Is it still empty?”
Dr. Lewis stopped to gaze at him. “Last time I looked.” He narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t another doctor, are you?”
“No,” Jake said, feeling insulted. “I told you. I’m Jake Cordell, the bounty hunter.” He cleared his throat. “The dime novel hero.”
The doctor harrumphed. “Those ten-cent books are all a bunch of flapdoodle and tommyrot.”
Seeing past the doctor’s crusty facade, Jake grinned crookedly. “So, how did you like them?”
Dr. Lewis blinked, startled, then aimed a finger at Jake. “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”
Laughing, Jake nodded. “And you’re a fake, Dr. Lewis.”
Humor glittered faintly in the doctor’s eyes. “The office is all yours, Mr. Cordell.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“Twenty dollars a month. Pay me later. Now go on and let me tend to business.”
Dr. Lewis disappeared into the back room once more, and Jake, shaking his head and smiling, left.
He paused on the boardwalk and looked up at his new office. With any luck, he’d only be there a month. That would give him plenty of time to get his father’s ranch back. Then he’d show everyone he could do what Jonathan Cordell hadn’t been able to—he’d raise the best damn horses west of the Mississippi.
His step faltered. Kit cared about the ranch, too. He had seen it in her eyes when she’d talked about the horses, and the thought of taking the place from her twinged his conscience. He could still picture little Kit sprawled on the boardwalk, her eyes glittering with tears as the boys teased her. From that moment he’d made himself her protector—and now he was plotting to take her ranch.
Sergeant O’Hara crossed the street and joined him, his expression downcast. “So you’re really goin’ to be hangin’ up your gun?”
Jake slapped his back. “Sure am, and can’t say that I’m real upset about it.”
O’Hara slipped his thumbs between his tan suspenders and brown wool shirt. “Now, I know you aren’t too fond of your reputation, but a lot of folks, meself included, will be missin’ your adventures.”
Jake pressed his hat back off his forehead. “Can’t be helped, Patrick. There comes a time in every man’s life when he hits a crossroads and has to decide what path he’s going to take. I’ve decided I’m tired of being shot at, spit on, bit, kicked, and cussed at.” He shrugged. “Of course, being a lawyer isn’t a whole lot different.”
“Aye, there’s probably more than a spot of truth there. Would you be wantin’ to join me for a pint or two?”
Tempted, Jake considered, then shook his head. “If there’s so much as a hint of liquor on my breath, Freda would most likely lock me out.”
“She’s a brassy lass, isn’t she?” Patrick commented with a grin.
Jake raised his eyebrows. “I can think of a lot of words to describe Freda, and brassy isn’t even close.”
The Irishman chuckled. “If Kit hadn’t taken you over, Freda wouldn’t have taken you in. I hope you weren’t too rough on the lass.”
“Kit?” Patrick nodded, and Jake snorted. “She can take care of herself. I stopped by her place earlier today.”
Surprise skidded across Patrick’s rough-hewn features, replaced by a wary defensiveness. “And what did you think?”
“I think she’s done a good job, considering.”
“Considerin’ what?”
“Well, that she has a son and she’s all by herself.”
“She’s got some hired men. Did you see them?”
Jake shook his head. “No, but Johnny mentioned them.”
“So you haven’t met them?”
Confused exasperation tested Jake’s patience. “That’s what I just said. Would you quit beating around the bush and tell me what the hell you’re getting at?”
After studying Jake a moment, Patrick sighed. “Kit takes in strays.”
“That’s nothing new—she’s been doing that since she was ten years old.”
“Then you’ll be knowin’ what I’m meanin’, and you probably won’t be surprised when you meet her hired men.” He tipped his hat to Jake. “I’ll be seein’ you.”
Bewildered by Patrick’s enigmatic reply, Jake remained standing in place. Although he’d known Kit for over thirteen years, he’d felt like he was meeting her for the first time that day. A part of that little girl remained in her, but the rest of her had changed dramatically. Most obvious was her transformation into an attractive woman with a damn fine figure, made especially tempting in those tight-fitting trousers. Another change was her independence: a trait Jake admired, even as he knew that self-reliance would be his greatest hindrance in regaining his father’s ranch.
He uprooted himself and strode down the boardwalk. Zeus would need some exercise tomorrow, and if they ended up at Kit’s place, he might be able to meet Kit’s hired men and see what Patrick had meant.
Besides, the prospect of seeing Kit and her son again wasn’t at all unpleasant.
Jake Cordell leveled his six-gun menacingly. “Throw it down, Ross, or I’m liable to get an itchy finger.”
With flat fish eyes, Frank Ross squinted
at the tow-ering bounty hunter. “I ain’t gonna be taken in alive, Cordell.”
Kit Thornton, aka T. K. Thorne, reread the lines and scowled, then jerked the sheet from the typewriter. She crushed the paper in her fist and tossed it at the wooden box beside the fireplace. The balled sheet bounced on the floor, coming to rest beside the other orphaned scraps of paper.
Her reluctant gaze sidled to the newspaper that lay on the corner of her writing desk. The headline glared at her, daring her to dispute its claim: FRANK ROSS SENTENCED TO LIFE IMPRISONMENT. Although she’d memorized the article, she scanned it again. After she finished, she removed her wire-rimmed spectacles and laid them on top of the paper.
When Jake had become a bounty hunter in the wild and untamed West, Kit had taken the factual newspaper accounts and given them a dollop of creative license to concoct the dime novels. Little did she realize how different the man was from the fictional character she’d created.
Trying to write Jake Cordell’s last adventure now, Kit floundered with the words that usually came so easily. How was she to have known Jake would despise the reputation her books had brought him? She’d written them as a tribute to the young man she’d been infatuated with so many years ago. She shuddered to imagine what he would do if he learned she was the nefarious T. K. Thorne.
She stood and pressed her palms against her lower back, trying to massage the tightness out of the knotted muscles.
Trudging out of the office and up the stairs, she paused outside Johnny’s bedroom and peeked in. A single candle cast a pale yellow glow across his beloved features as he slept peacefully in the same room his father had slept in as a child. With little imagination, Kit could envision Jake in the bed, and the picture brought a heated warmth to her cheeks. She scolded herself sharply. The Jake Cordell she wrote about was the man she’d been infatuated with, not the drunk she’d helped over to Freda’s. Although he’d behaved better while visiting, Kit couldn’t allow her hopes to rise. Admiring the mythical hero was much safer.
Melancholy filled Kit as she slipped inside to extinguish the candle. Tiptoeing back into the hallway, she leaned against the wall and slid her hands into her trouser pockets.
Maureen McKade Page 5