Claudia Dain

by A Kiss To Die For

  No, things were going to change some. She'd found something worth fighting for: her own independence. It wasn't going to be a revolution, but just a quiet and dignified little revolt. She was going to take care of herself good. And she was going to start with Bill, if she could only find him.

  * * *

  Bill got found, but not by Anne.

  Miss Daphne cornered him as he was leaving the bank, grabbing him by the arm as if he were her escort. He wasn't escorting her; he was listening to her while she clutched of his arm.

  "I'm going to do you the courtesy of speaking honestly with you, Bill. I think we know each other well enough for that."

  "Why, yes, ma'am," he said, "and it pleases me—"

  "Just shut your mouth until I have my say, Bill. I'm going to assume that your intentions to my granddaughter are honorable because I believe you to be an honorable man."

  When Bill looked like he was going to open his mouth to say something, a sharp look from Daphne made him close it.

  "I think you and Anne have a fair understanding of each other, having spent the better part of a month keeping company, so I'm going to tell you straight out that if you intend to ask her to marry you, you'd better stop playing around about it or that bounty hunter is going to cut in on you and steal your girl. If you want to marry my granddaughter, you'd better see it done and done quick. Do I make myself clear?"

  Bill could only stare down at her, his eyes wide and his mouth slack.

  "Close your mouth," she snapped.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said instinctively.

  "Well?" Hard brown eyes looked up into his, waiting.

  "Yes, Miss Daphne. I want to marry Anne," he said firmly, once he'd swallowed down his shock.

  "Then get to it. That bounty hunter is like flies on honey with her. You either snap her up or he will." And with a flurry of skirts, she marched on down the street toward home, leaving Bill, in every sense of the word, in the dust.

  Which was where Anne found him, standing in the dust of the street, watching her grandmother sail toward home. "Bill?"

  He whirled as if she'd whipped him.

  "Anne! I've been looking for you." He smiled.

  "Here I am." She smiled back. "I've been looking for you, too."

  "Shall we walk? I have something I've wanted to say to you for days now." Bill took her arm and led her down the street, away from her home in the distance. "I kept hoping for the right moment, wanting everything to be just the way I had it in my mind."

  "What do you mean?"

  Here she'd gathered up her courage to face him on her own and tell him he could commence courting someone else and he looked to be digging in even deeper. Of course, she could be reading him wrong.

  "Oh, moonlight and flowers; the way a woman likes things. But I don't want to wait any more to get it right; I just want to get it done. Would coffee in the middle of the day be all right with you?"

  No, she hadn't read him wrong.

  They were ten steps away from the Demorest when he made the offer, so she nodded and let him lead her in. She could end things just as well in the Demorest, she didn't have to do it out on the street. He drew out her chair with a gracious smile and patted her hand when she sat down.

  Jack never patted her hand. Of course, Jack never pulled her chair out for her, either. Jack's big skill was in kissing her. Unfortunately for her, it was a skill he'd perfected.

  Didn't matter; she was going to give him a wide range now, too. She was done with men. They made a mess of a woman's life.

  Everett Winslow brought two cups to their corner table and poured out the coffee. Bill was declining sugar when Everett set the bowl in front of Anne; she liked three teaspoons with her coffee. Bill never seemed to be able to remember that.

  "Anne," he said, pulling her hand across the table to rest in his. His hands were soft; nothing like Jack's, which were tanned and callused. "You must know how I feel about you." His blue eyes twinkled, Jack's eyes, of a much clearer blue, never twinkled; they glittered like broken glass in the sun. "I've spent enough time with you to know what a lovely girl you are and what a respectable family you come from. If it wasn't for your aunt's dog ..." He smiled, chuckled, really. He meant it as a joke. It was a joke that fell flat on the table between them and lay as dead as a bee in January.

  If Jack ever had call to ask her to marry him, would he want her to be lovely and respectable and without a dog named Dammit? Would Jack call her a girl when he always treated her like a woman?

  It didn't matter what Jack would or wouldn't do, or what Bill was doing either. She was done with both of them.

  Anne's answering smile faltered and she wanted to pull her hand back and put it safely in her own lap. Common courtesy required that she do no such thing. She bolstered up her smile and tried to relax.

  "Pie?" Everett Winslow interrupted. "We've got apple and sweet potato; too early for any of the berries yet. And I think Emmie's got a custard in the spring house."

  "No, thank you, Everett," Bill said. "We'll let you know when we need anything else."

  Anne would have liked some apple pie; she never got any at home. But if Bill didn't want pie, she wasn't going to get any pie. She had a feeling Jack would have let her order her own pie.

  She really wanted to pull her hand back.

  "You must know that you're the most beautiful girl in Abilene," he said softly. That might have been true, but what was surely true was that she was the only unmarried woman in Abilene under the age of thirty. "And you must also know that I have never wanted to marry before. Before now," he amended.

  He'd said it. He was going to ask her to marry him, even if it seemed as if he had to puff himself up with a whole lot of words to get the thing done.

  For a man this hesitant, he ought to take her "no" real easy.

  "Bill," she said, looking at the table top. Her fork had something crusted on the handle. "Bill, I'm real flattered that you'd ask, real flattered."

  "You don't need to feel flattered, Anne, I'm just speaking the plain truth. A man would have to travel far to find a girl like you. I want you to be the mother to my kids, Anne. I want to hook my life up to yours, give you my name and my life. You want that, too, I know you do."

  "Well, Bill, that's real sweet of you, but I don't think—"

  Against everything he knew of decency, Bill leaned across the table and kissed her very lightly on the lips. "Say yes," he whispered. "I just know you want to say yes. You' re mine, Anne, made for me. I know you want what I'm offering. I can give you everything."

  He kissed her again before she found the wit to pull away from him. He kissed her hard and hot, his breath a weight that pressed against her mouth. She held her breath unconsciously and tightened her neck, resisting him, rejecting his taste and his scent. He eased off and kissed her softly, tenderly, a caress to convince and confuse.

  It was nothing to get swept away over and it didn't carry her anywhere, not the least little bit.

  Bill didn't seem to notice.

  * * *

  Jack was just walking into the parsonage when she found him. Sarah had expected to find him at the saloon or with Charles. Finding him on the steps of Edward Holt's house had stunned her for a moment, but was not so great a shock as to render her speechless.

  "I'm not as sure of you as I once was," Sarah said, stopping him cold. "You're a bit more than Anne can comfortably handle. Might be better all around for you to back off."

  "I'll back off when that killer's caught," he said. "Anne, and you, are just gonna have to get used to me until then."

  "What's one to do with the other?"

  "Dead gals lying all around the country and you have to ask that?" Jack said, adjusting his hat. "I'm staying. Anne don't seem to mind me."

  "With those kisses you're handing out?" Sarah said on a snort.

  "Just doing my job," he said.

  "Well, you're off that job."

  "Then I'm on another. I'm sucking like a burr to Anne until t
hat killer is as dead as those girls, and if I have my way, I'll take him out the same way he did them. That'd be justice," he said softly.

  "I won't argue that," Sarah said, "but I'll fight you myself if you hurt that girl. She's not the sort to take to a rough-and-tumble man, not for long."

  That was the truth. There wasn't any sort of quality woman who'd take to him; he was all wire and no cotton. But that was just what she needed to keep her out of harm's way. When that killer was caught, killed, and buried, then Anne'd be free of him. Not until then. It didn't take any time at all to kill a man, it was just taking too damn long to find this one.

  Tucker looked good for it and he'd be real happy to lay it on him, but something there didn't feel right. Tucker was too obvious. A man who killed on the sly was tough to pick out of a crowd. Tucker just about shouted to be noticed.

  "Fine. When the killer is caught, then I'm out. But not until then," he said to Sarah. "Now, if I'm going to do my job, tell me where Anne is."

  Sarah hesitated and then said, "She's at the Demorest."

  * * *

  He walked in just as Anne was getting herself kissed. She seemed to be enjoying it well enough.

  Too damn bad.

  From now on, the only one who'd be kissing her was him, whether she liked it or not. He had a feeling she'd like it well enough.

  "Back off, Tucker. Anne needs kissing, I'll see to it."

  Jack ignored Tucker after that and moved behind Anne's chair. He pulled it out enough for her to get up, 'cept she didn't move.

  "Get up, Anne. I'm takin' you home," he said.

  It was Tucker who stood, his face as red as sunburn and his eyes shooting fire.

  "No, you're not," Tucker said loudly. Sure he was loud, there was a roomful of witnesses. "I'm having a private conversation with Anne—"

  "Didn't look too private and it didn't look like talking either,'' Jack interrupted. "Anne don't need to have more conversations with you like that one."

  "What Anne and I do is none of your concern!" Tucker was really yelling now, building steam for a big blow. Too bad he wasn't carrying; now'd be a good time to end the problem of Bill once and for all.

  "It is now. I'm planning to marry her." Where that came from, he didn't want to know, but it would do the job of getting Tucker away from Anne for good and of getting Anne out of the killer's sights. Unmarried, unspoken-for women were what he aimed at. Anne wasn't going to walk around unclaimed anymore. And she wasn't ever going to be with Tucker again. He'd see to that.

  Anne looked like she was going to fall off her chair. Jack grabbed her by an arm and urged her to her feet; if things were going to get rough, he didn't want her sitting like a stone in the middle of it.

  "I'm proposing to Anne," Bill bit out, reaching out for Anne.

  Jack pushed her gently behind him. He wasn't going to let Bill Tucker anywhere near her and now, he'd given himself the right to control her. Protect her. Just until he was certain she was safe. There wouldn't be a wedding. He'd have found the man he was hunting before there'd need to be a wedding.

  "Sure takes you a stretch to build up steam, Tucker. Don't take much effort to open your mouth and let the words tumble out, unless you're not too sharp on the notion to begin with. Or unless you keep waiting for a private moment, say, out on the prairie? That what you been waitin' for?"

  "I've been courting Anne—"

  "On and off," Jack finished.

  Tucker looked worn out with fussing and turned his attention to Anne. Jack kept her by his side. She stayed where he put her. Smart girl.

  "Anne," Tucker said, "you know how I feel about you, the plans I'd made, the future I'd hoped for. I want to—"

  "Tucker, you're all show and no go," Jack said. He put his arm around Anne's waist and pulled her to his side. She was warm and small and trim and he was suddenly more happy than he'd been in years. "I want you for my woman, Anne," he said gruffly.

  He hadn't planned on saying that, but it fit the moment. He had to convince Tucker and everyone else in the Demorest that Anne was his to protect. That was why he'd said it: instinct. Yeah, and he trusted his instincts.

  In the place of Anne's response, he heard only silence. He turned enough to study her profile. She was looking at Tucker, but was leaning into him. And she wasn't saying a word.

  * * *

  It was on the edge of town that Sarah ran into Nell. Nell was on her way home. After realizing what she'd started, Sarah was on her way anywhere but home.

  "You look like you just wrestled a bull to the ground. Or had another talk with Charles," Sarah said.

  "It amounts to about the same thing," Nell answered.

  "He's stuck his spurs into you again, has he?"

  "Everything's gone wrong lately," Nell said with a frown. "Have you noticed that? Everything used to be so pleasant."

  "You mean predictable," Sarah said. "And I don't think everything's going wrong." At least she hoped not. She really should have known better than to tangle with a bounty hunter.

  "No?" Nell shot back. "Have you talked to Miss Daphne lately?"

  "No, and that's why I'm not heading home any time soon."

  "Well, I have, and got an earful about my conduct with Charles."

  "What happened? And how did Mama get in on it?"

  "Get in on it? She was shoved out of it. Charles slammed the jailhouse door in her face. And locked it."

  "Oh," Sarah said, her eyes wide and her smile wiped clean. "I guess what I just did will be pouring kerosene on an already hot fire."

  "What did you do?" Nell asked, her face going white in anticipation.

  "I ran Jack down and gave him a push in the wrong direction; he's asking Anne to marry him right now, if I know men. And I do."

  "Good Lord, Sarah," Nell breathed, her face going from white to ash gray.

  "Yes," Sarah said back, her face losing some of its color in companionable empathy. "It's going to be pretty bad when she finds out."

  "Maybe she won't find out."

  "She will when Anne says yes."

  "You seem sure she will."

  Sarah smiled again, ruefully. "Oh, I'm sure."

  "Mama will blame me."

  "Why you? You didn't invite him to stay in the house or invite him to propose to your daughter."

  "No, but after Mama heard me talking with Charles, 'loitering in the jailhouse' as she put it, she blamed me for setting a bad example for Anne by keeping bad company in 'inappropriate settings.' I'm sure to get blamed for it if Anne actually marries Jack."

  There was nothing to say to that. A mood of gloom and desperation hung over them both. The wind kicked up, sending dust swirling in a large, thick cloud down the street. Nell hurried off so that she would be safely and innocently at home when the storm of Anne's proposal hit. Sarah hurried into the dry goods shop so that she would be far away when the trouble started, for it was sure to start at home and spread outward, like the retort of a rifle shot. The farther away she was, the less likely she was to get hit.

  "Blowing up out there some," Neil McShay said as Sarah hurried in and closed the door behind her. "We may get rain yet this month."

  "That'd make Miss Daphne happy; her spring flowers are struggling and you know what store she sets on a fine display around the house."

  "I sure do." Everybody did. "Saw Anne walking by with Bill a bit ago," McShay supplied. "Looked like they were headed for the Demorest."

  Sarah stopped brushing the dust off her skirts and said, "You didn't happen to see Jack trailing along after, did you?"

  "That bounty hunter? What d' you care about him for? He's nothing for you to be thinking of."

  "Now, Neil McShay, I'm not going to hear a word against that man." Especially since he was probably proposing right about now. Couldn't insult family. "He's holding down a job and he's interested in Anne and that's enough for any man to be."

  "Oh," he said slowly. "Well, I guess that's Anne's business."

  "You can say it is," Sarah sa
id stoutly. She was going to get it bad enough from Miss Daphne, she wasn't going to take it from Neil.

  "All right, I say it." He smiled in conciliation. "Now, all it takes for a man to be a man in your eyes is that he be working and interested? Why, Sarah, I'm a right nice-looking fella, when my hair's combed, own my own business, and... I'm interested."

  Sarah blushed to the roots of her hair. She hadn't blushed since she was fifteen.

  "You're blushing." He smiled. He had quite a winsome smile and a nice thick moustache. The blush picked up a little heat and stayed put.

  "Why, Neil, your wife's been gone just three months now; this doesn't seem quite proper."

  "It's been nearer to five and there's nothing improper about it," he said, coming around in front of the counter. Sarah backed into a barrel and kept on moving.

  "Neil, you've got to have ten years on me. Don't you think you're a bit old to be chasing women around your store?"

  "Sarah, I'm not that old. What do ya think killed Ida anyway?"

  Sarah backed up against the bolts of fabric he had on the wall and edged to her right. Neil just grinned and kept coming on. She wasn't scared; actually, it was kind of fun.

  "I'd heard she died in bed."

  Neil wiggled his eyebrows and then winked. "That's right."

  Sarah laughed outright and backed herself into a corner. If Mama ever heard about this, she'd think Nell's tussle with Charles mere shadow play.

  "Neil, I don't have time for such nonsense. I've got to get Anne married."

  Neil came as close as the circle of her skirts, reached up behind her, and pulled down a stick of hard candy. He held it in front of her as an offering, his twinkling eyes and his wide smile showing how little he was offended.

  "Get it done, Sarah. I'll be here."

  Sarah took the candy, wearing a grin as big as a painted doll, and slowly walked out of the store. She hadn't been so flattered in ten years. And she wasn't going to forget to come back to McShay's real soon. She was in trouble with Daphne anyway and her pa always said, "In for a penny, in for a pound."