“I’d rather act like a man than a shameless saloon girl.” Not that she hadn’t already.
The laugh turned into a jaw drop. “What did you just say to me?”
“What else do you think it sounds like when you talk about selling yourself off to the man with the most to pay you for it?”
The girl stiffened. “Why, Kate Marsh, that’s a despicable thing to say. Just because you can’t land a man of your own is no reason to act so jealous of my good fortune. I think I have nothing left to say to you. Good day.”
Elspeth turned and flounced off, the hem of her skirts swishing around her as her pointy-toed boot heels clicked on the wood floor. Kate wondered whether to follow or just let her go. She should apologize, really. It hadn’t been her intent to accuse Elspeth of acting like a painted woman. And she wasn’t jealous, either. Sure, the subject of marriage proposals was a rather touchy one today, but she’d meant every word when she told William she was not interested in one right now. No, it was Elspeth’s flip rejection of Tommy’s suit because of money that hit like a hammer on a sore thumb.
What was it with the people in this town, anyway? Was she the only one who believed wedlock should have more to do with love than how much coin a man carried in his vest pockets?
“What’s wrong with Elspeth?” Kate’s father asked while they walked out. “She tore off like a hound on a hunt.”
Kate sighed. “Guess I wasn’t properly impressed with her gossip.”
He laughed and raked fingers through his thick, ragged mustache. “You never were one fer women’s hen-squawking. Not in passin’ it on, nor bein’ the subject of it.” His deeply lined face screwed up for a moment. “Except when yeh went and ran off. Folks talked about that fer a while. Then they got bored with imaginin’ yer adventures.”
Familiar guilt poked at her with the remark. Even her pa didn’t know many of those adventures, including the stage coach robbery and her time with the Hupa. Neither bit of information would have done his health a lick of good.
“Well, there’s no use imaginin’,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’ve no adventures to speak of these days.”
They fell into silence, Kate listening to her father’s boot falls on the wooden boards outside the store front. Missing were the jangle of his spurs, a sound that had mesmerized her as a child. Pa had never been without his spurs, even joked that he had a mind to sleep with them on. Once she returned from her animal schooling, however, she found he rarely wore them. Many days he was feeling too poorly to ride. Other times she suspected he forgot altogether, but was too proud to say so.
When they got back to the wagon, he loaded up and squinted across the way, where festive piano music was playing.
“I’m gonna duck into Mack’s for a minute,” he said. “Wait here.”
She cocked a hand on one hip. “Now, Pa, don’t tell me you’re planning to sit around the saloon playing poker. The doctor said whiskey’s no good for you now.”
He snorted. “Don’t you believe a word that old quack says. A small shot now and then is food fer the soul.” To her sharp glare he said, “I’m not goin’ in to gamble or suck down rot gut. I got business to discuss with Tulare Ranch. I’m fixin’ to work a deal fer a couple new milk cows. Jezebel’s gettin’ a might old fer the job.”
“That sounds good, Pa. Just don’t forget I’m out here.” That had actually happened before.
“Wait in the wagon. Or you can look at a couple of them shops, but don’t wander too far. Lots of strangers in town these days. Be right back.”
She bit off the urge to mention she’d heard that before and watched him walk away. His gait these days always seemed a little stiff, as though he’d just returned from a hard cattle drive. Kate wandered up to Pa’s white horse and stroked its muzzle.
“Well, Spitfire,” she said, “what do you think? Should I sit here with you a spell and hope he remembers his promise, or should I take a bit of a walk?”
The horse nodded.
“Great. Yes to which idea?”
She sighed and turned to see her pa’s back disappear through the swinging doors of the saloon just as another man lumbered out. She took in the raspy beard, unkempt mustache and dirty oil skin coat, and unpleasant recognition dawned. Worse, he glanced up and caught her staring, and with a tobacco-stained smile, headed straight for her. The shops it was, then. Perhaps she could duck inside one before he could get to her.
Kate made it around the wagon before the man raced in front of her and cut her off. He touched a dirt-crusted hand to a stained hat that might once have been tan colored. “Afternoon, ma’am. What’s yer hurry?”
She stepped back to avoid the ripe smell of tobacco and whiskey. “I have things to do. If you’ll excuse me.”
He made no move to do so. “Always runnin’ off, ain’t yeh? Not very polite.”
Kate clenched her jaw. “And you’re always chasing after things you can’t have.”
His laugh curdled in her stomach like spoiled milk. “Thought maybe you didn’t remember me.”
“You certainly made an impression.”
His brow rose. “Well, I made a mash on yeh. Ain’t I a mite flattered.”
She lifted her chin. “I didn’t say it was a good impression.”
“Aw, come on.” He reached a finger out toward her cheek, but she yanked back. “Might interest yeh to know who yer talkin’ to.”
“A lout with the manners of a wallowing pig?”
He sneered. “I’m Caleb Tanner.”
“Tanner.” She glanced around. “Not as in the Tanners?”
He tipped his hat. “The very same.”
“Don’t pull my leg. I’ve lived here almost all my life, and I’ve known three generations of Tanners. I’d never seen you before the day you rudely chased me from the creek.”
“My folks are up in Sacramento. Came here to stay with other relations not long afore the day I tried to talk to yeh at the creek.”
Anger flooded her stomach. Talking was the last thing he’d been trying to do. “What was wrong with Sacramento? Not enough little girls to terrify?”
His grin shot her through with disgust. “You weren’t no little girl. But yer lookin’ a hundred times more fine now. I think we could have us a right time together if yeh’d just drop the prissy act.”
“I hardly think so.” She stepped around him and headed for the nearest doorway.
She felt a hand grab her roughly by the upper arm. “I didn’t say yeh could leave yet. We’re just gettin’ acquainted.”
He spun her toward him, and the leering smile on his face made her have to curb the urge to spit in it. “Let go of me, or I’ll scream.”
Caleb leaned in even closer, half-drowning her in the scent of hot, reeking breath and the leer in blood-shot brown eyes. “Oh, I intend to make you scream, darlin’. The way I hear it, yer more than game.”
His fingers dug hard enough into her arm to bruise it, and she wrenched away hard to pull free. She glanced around to see several curious glances from folks wandering about town. “You’re a liar. Now leave me alone. You’ll make a scene.”
“Lie? Never. Scuttlebutt is, yeh ain’t only game, but like to shoot yer mouth off about it after.” He picked something out of his teeth and spit it out. “Don’t look so surprised. Sheriff’s boys like to talk.”
Her chest tightened, and her voice quivered when she spoke. “And apparently spread false gossip like a bunch of women.”
Caleb moved closer to her and took hold of the strings hanging down from where her bonnet was tied beneath her chin. “I hear yer Daddy’s ailing. Be a pity if he had to find out what a fiery piece of calico he done raised.”
A wave of nausea spread over her. “Leave my pa out of this.”
“Don’t you worry, little lady.” He tugged on her bonnet strings and pulled her closer to him. “There’s no reason we can’t keep this our little secret. Just come quiet and gimme a taste of the hospitality yeh show other cowboys. We’ll call
it even.”
He pressed her backward, moving her away from the wagon toward a small gap between buildings.
“No,” she said. “Get on your way, or I’ll fetch the sheriff and see what he has to say about it.”
He took her shoulders and bent near her lips. “You won’t act like such a high-falootin’ dandy once I tame yeh behind the livery. Betcha even like it rough.”
The sound of a shotgun cocking behind the man halted her reply, and Caleb tensed for a moment.
“Best watch how you talk to my daughter, if you know what’s good fer you.”
The man threw a glance over his shoulder. Kate’s father aimed the rifle he kept tucked into the wagon, both the weapon and his eyes trained rock steady on Caleb. Some folks stopped dead in their tracks to watch, but most had scurried inside nearby doorways. In that moment, Kate saw the man her pa had once been and felt a fierce welling of pride.
Caleb turned back to slide a leering gaze over Kate. “Oh, I know what’s good fer me.” He turned back to her father. “Do yeh, old timer? Maybe yeh might best watch how yeh talk to a Tanner in this town.”
“I’ll do more than talk if that Tanner don’t treat my daughter like a proper lady.”
The man tossed his head back and belly laughed. “A mite late to worry ‘bout that, ain’t it? I’m hardly the first who done treated yer daughter less than proper.”
Her eyes flew wide, but her father’s expression didn’t waver. “Not hard to twig that she ain’t interested in yeh. So pull in yer horns and move along.”
Caleb pointed a finger at her father. “Yeh done woke up the wrong passenger on this train, Marsh. Might find yerself sorry you aimed a barrel at a Tanner.” He tipped his hat to Kate. “I’ll see yeh later, ma’am.”
His duster flared out while he stalked off and untethered a palomino over near the saloon. Her father slid the rifle under his arm and waited until the other man made a big play of riding off in a huff.
“Thank you, Pa. I was—”
“Hush,” he said. “Don’t you thank me.”
“What?”
“You deserved what that man gave you.”
Her jaw fell open, but he ignored her while he pushed past and set the rifle back into the wagon. She wandered up behind him. “What are you saying, Pa? He approached me. I didn’t—”
The slap came out of nowhere, connecting with her cheek in a stinging report that twisted her face to the side and brought instant tears. She covered the hot, throbbing flush with her palm and raised a blurry-eyed gaze to him. “You don’t believe what he said, do you?”
The eyes he turned on her blazed with anger. “What I believe is that I’m a damned fool fer not seein’ the truth. Busy out at night tendin’ animals, eh? Changin’ clothes at night cuz yer poppin’ buttons? You done shame me fierce, girl. I walked into that saloon a laughin’ stock. Everyone’s sayin’ my daughter is no better than a five-cent whore.”
She let out a gasp of shock. “Pa, don’t you say that about me. It isn’t so.” He stared at her with suspicion. “Not a word of it. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You swear that to me right now. On the top of yer mama’s grave, swear that you never let a man put his hands on you. Not even that Tyler feller.”
Her mouth was already open for her automatic claim of innocence when she heard William’s name. A hiccup of guilt hitched in her throat, and she closed her mouth and averted her gaze from him. The pause in reply was enough.
Her father let out a disgusted grunt and spit in the dirt near her feet. “I swear, girl, I oughta…” He paused, balling his fists at his sides. “If yer ma were alive, this would kill her.” Pain flashed in his eyes. “I ’spose that’s why yer like this. Runnin’ around wild, wearin’ trousers while you play doc. Now this. You didn’t have a ma, and I failed to raise you proper.”
A dull ache started behind her brow. “That’s not so. And about Will…”
Before she could finish, he turned his back and strode to the wagon.
“Pa, please. I can explain,” she said while he climbed up to the seat.
He refused to look at her. “I don’t want to hear yer voice, Katie Rose. Not one word all the way home.”
Though her pa had all but abandoned her company, she had plenty of companions while the sun drooped behind distant hills during the endless trip home. The long journey was filled with her own jumbled thoughts, regrets, and tears along with the stiff-backed, deafening silence emanating from the man seated beside her.
Chapter Eight
William pulled off his neckerchief to mop his sweaty face. His eyes stung from more than salty drops of perspiration, and the dust kicked up by the horse beside him. Fatigue held him in an iron grip, courtesy of two nights with almost no sleep. Two nights spent lying in bed, unable to stop thinking about the woman who somehow made him complete and splintered at the same time. The woman who made it clear she didn’t share his feelings for her. Offers from Jack to pass some of those long, torturous nighttime hours together had been rejected. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to share the comfort of the man’s muscled, potent embrace without Kate beside them.
Fireball sidestepped away from him, snorting in obvious disapproval over William’s latest attempt to turn the wild mare into a civilized riding partner. Leave it to him to actually find the new stallion easier to domesticate than the female, which was proving as stubborn and mule-minded as the woman who had tamed her. Nightwind would make a good breeding male and could likely fetch a bonus if the stallion proved a decent riding animal as well. Whether Fireball would become either remained to be seen. Right now she was protesting the saddle blanket he’d set on her back almost as much as the soft leather halter she wore on her head. Her teeth and tongue worked the bit.
He soothed her with calm words, stroking a forelock of red hair away from the blaze of white cresting her forehead. “Come on, now, it ain’t so bad. That’s my softest trail blanket. It’s not like I slung a forty-pound saddle on you. You’ll love that.”
“Will.” Jack’s voice came from just outside the fence. “Someone here to see yeh.”
For a moment his heart sped up, thinking maybe Kate had come back. William settled his hat on his head and twisted around to his hired man, whose wary expression suggested something other than a call from the hoss doc. In fact, the man’s face looked more like the time the sheriff had decided to visit.
William set his jaw. “Well, who is it?”
Another man stepped into view with an expression even more grim than Jack’s. William nodded. “It’s all right, Jack. You can go on and check the herd now.”
The “herd” was barely a herd and needed no checking, but Jack took the hint and left. If he knew his ranch hand, however, William would wager the man wouldn’t stray too far off.
“Tyler,” the man said, propping a worn boot heel on a lower rail of the fence. “Guess yer wonderin’ who I am.”
“No, sir.” He left the mare and came along the opposite side of the fence. “You’re Clyde Marsh.” He hesitated, and then extended his hand over the top of the fence.
The man stared at the offered handshake as though it were a snake about to strike. Instead of accepting the gesture, he leaned his forearms on the fence, clasping leathery hands while they dangled over the edge. “I hear yer overdue to make my acquaintance.”
William swallowed and retracted his hand. “Not sure I catch your meanin’.”
Gray eyes squinted from under a battered Stetson, a measuring gaze that traveled over William’s plaid shirt, jeans, and right down to his snakeskin boots. Kate’s father may have been rumored to be in poor health, but William couldn’t see it. A bit stooped and graying, maybe, and his dusty brown trousers and vest had seen many years of wear. But the man underneath held his body in a sharp pose, ready for anything even while resting against the fence. Now, his steely eyes targeted Will like bullets.
“Don’t be dull, boy. You done caug
ht a lot more than my meanin’, and the whole town knows it.”
“This is about Kate, I take it.”
“Slow as February molasses, but you get there.”
William wondered how much the old man had heard, and who all he had heard it from. “With all due respect, I don’t place much stock in idle town gossip. Your daughter—”
He was cut off by the man’s sharp, barking reply. “My daughter admitted yer shame. Don’t make this worse by callin’ her a liar.”
“I meant no offense. Just that town talk blows things up bigger than they oughta be.”
“You gave offense when you used my Kate.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But I didn’t use her.” He paused, pulling off his hat to run a hand through sweat-dampened hair before replacing it. “I love her so much I can’t barely think straight.”
The man pierced him with a hard stare, sucking his teeth. “I expect yer wantin’ to ask my blessin’, then.”
He shook his head. “No, sir. I wouldn’t expect that from you after what I done.”
The elder man grunted. “Damn right. But I expect I’ll be hearin’ you ask for it anyway.” He shot him a knife-edged look. “Now.”
A fresh band of sweat broke out over his forehead. Several long moments passed while the man stared William down for an answer. Or rather, the question.
“I can’t.”
Somehow, the already slitted eyes managed to narrow farther. “No need to be shy now, son. You already made it so between the two of you.”
The two of them. At least it sounded like Clyde hadn’t heard how much farther things had gone.
He glanced away. “I’m not askin’ for Kate’s hand. Not now.”
Clyde dragged his boot heel off the rail and hitched up his trousers. “And I’m not askin’ if you feel like it now. I’m tellin’ you that’s how it’s gonna be.”
“Did you ask Kate if that’s how she wants it to be? Because she already told me she doesn’t want to get married.”
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