Pistols and Petticoats (A Historical Western Romance Anthology)

by Barbara Ankrum

  Shannon took such a deep breath Seth could swear she grew a couple of inches. "How dare you talk to me like that."

  "I can talk to you any way I like. You work for me."

  "I work for Mister Cody."

  Seth laughed. "Believe me, if I toss you out, you are gone and Bill won't care one way or the other."

  Some of the insolence left both her tone and her demeanor as she said, "I came here to work, and even brought my own horse. That should tell you how serious I am about this job."

  Seth thought back to some of the names Caleb had called him, horse thief among them. "Your own horse? Are you sure about that? In a court of law, who would the real owner of that horse be? You or your father?"

  All of the sass seemed to drain from her as Shannon lowered her chin and quietly said, "I guess you would have to say that my father owns Stormy."

  Seth nodded. "And what would your father do if he saw me riding around on a horse he owned that had disappeared from his ranch?"

  Eyes downcast, she shrugged. "He'd probably shoot you."

  "Uh, huh. And what do you think he would do if he saw me kissing you with a full audience looking on?"

  Shannon took another deep breath. "The same. Maybe worse."

  At the thought of what that might entail, Seth couldn't tamp down the shudder that tore through him. Working to keep his voice steady, he said, "So let me see if I have this straight. When you showed up and begged us to let you to join this organization, you didn't bother to mention that you were the runaway daughter of an Arapaho Indian, or that you also brought us a stolen horse. Did it ever occur to you that something might go wrong with that plan?"

  Shannon finally met his gaze. "Not really. I wrote my father a very nice note and thought he would understand. I never dreamed he would send Caleb after me."

  Seth laughed. "Caleb doesn't worry me, your father does. For all I know he's on his way now."

  She kind of looked around, thinking about that, and finally said, "I don't see why he would come here, too. He has the ranch to run. I'm sure he sent Caleb in his place."

  The pressure in Seth's chest eased some. "Just in case you're wrong, please tell me that your father is the one who taught your brother to fight."

  Shannon laughed, a lovely sound at odds with Seth's general mood. Then she said, "Nobody taught my brother to fight. As far as I know he's never been in one before. If there's any fighting to be done at Winterhawke Ranch, my father is the man to beat. And he never loses."

  "Of course not." Seth shoved his hat back and wiped his damp brow. "That settles it. I want you, your father's horse, and your brother out of here by dawn tomorrow."

  "Out of here?" Her eyes were huge, glistening with tears. "You mean I'm fired?"

  Her expression was enough to give him pause, a cross between disbelief and utter disappointment. She was trouble, Seth had to remind himself, trouble for him now on a personal level, trouble on down the road for the show. He really had no choice in the matter.

  "I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be. You are done here."

  Surprising him, Shannon flung herself into his arms. "But what about our act?" she cried. "You saw how much the crowd liked us. They liked us better than everything else, even the grand parade at the beginning of the show. We were good, really good. Please, please don't fire me."

  Though it was difficult with Shannon clinging to him, her sweet mouth just inches from his, Seth managed to say, "It's for the good of the show, Shannon. I can't risk keeping you on."

  Desperation glistened in her eyes as she said, "But what about this? We were really good at this."

  And then, without any further warning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down on hers. The kiss surprised him enough that Seth allowed the gesture, figuring it was a final, futile attempt to keep him from firing her. But then Shannon stunned him by taking a page out of his own book, by doing exactly what he'd done to her in the arena. She turned the kiss into something as wild and passionate as anything the Wild West had ever seen. She knocked off his hat and began running her hands through his hair, gentle, frantic fingers that encouraged his hunger for her to fever pitch. Seth pulled her up tight against his body, and matched her fire with an inferno of his own.

  "Practicing for the next show, are we?" came Cody's deep, rumbling voice.

  The man was sitting on his horse, and Seth had never even heard them ride up. He quickly set Shannon aside. "Oh, Bill. We, ah, just thought—"

  Cody laughed. "I know what you thought, son, and if that's what it takes to keep that act going, then don't let me get in the way."

  "About the act," Seth began.

  "It's perfect," Cody interrupted. "I like it just the way it is. The crowd went wild." He turned to Shannon. "It does seem kind of dangerous though. Are you going to be able to fall between those horses twice a day?"

  "Oh, yes sir." She smoothed the sides of her hair and brightened. "It's not as dangerous as it looks either. By the time I fall, Stormy's hooves are already well past me. Then I just lean toward the side opposite Seth's mount before I slip out of his grip. I can do the act as often as you want me to."

  "That's what I like to hear." Then he turned his attention back to Seth. "You'd better saddle up. We're starting the finale any minute now."

  With that he rode off, leaving the two in his dust.

  Seth shook his fist. "I have to go now, but this isn't over yet." A finger popped out of that fist. "For one thing, I will fire you first chance I get."

  Out popped another finger. "Next, I want your brother off this property before the second show starts."

  Then suddenly all of his fingers popped up. "And lastly, if you think you can get your own way by teasing me, you'd better think again. I won't be swayed by your wily ways."

  Shannon's smile was as sweet as maple syrup on a flapjack and twice as tempting. Then she coyly said, "That remains to be seen."

  Chapter 6

  "Are you sure you ought to stand up?" Shannon asked Caleb as he got to his feet.

  He rubbed his jaw and tested his legs. "I'm fine. Just a little sore."

  "If you can walk, you'd better come with me. I've got to get you out of here before Seth sees you again. You aren't supposed to be mingling with the performers."

  Caleb stopped in his tracks. "Come with me then. Let's go home."

  Shannon took hold of his elbow and coaxed him along toward the costume tent. As they walked, she said, "I am not going home, Caleb, so stop trying to talk me into leaving."

  "What am I going to tell father? I can hardly tell him the truth, and you know how hard it is to lie to him."

  Glancing at her brother, Shannon marveled at how much he resembled their father. His auburn hair was a shade darker than her own, but it was his deep set eyes of both green and gray framed by the prominent ridge of a strong brow that made her think of the elder Winterhawke. At an even six feet, it was hard to see any of their mother in him except for the red in his hair. His personality, however, was all Lacey Winterhawke.

  With a shrug, Shannon said, "Just tell father that I'm happy. That much is the truth."

  Caleb looked around and said, "What are all these tents for?"

  "I don't know about all of them, but that long one over there is for the single ladies. We get dressed in our costumes and rest in there. I suppose I'll be sleeping in that tent again tonight."

  "And this one?" He pointed to the tent directly in front of them.

  "That's where the costumes are made. Come on. I'll show you."

  "Hello?" Shannon called, announcing them. "May we come in?"

  "Come on ahead," Bethel hollered.

  When they stepped inside, Shannon saw that the woman was hunched over a shiny black and gold treadle sewing machine, busy making a costume.

  "Oh, I didn't realize you were working," Shannon apologized. "We can come back later."

  "Come on in," Bethel said, climbing out of her chair. "I could use a break."

  "If
you're sure." She turned to Caleb. "I want you to meet my brother, Caleb."

  "Your brother, is it?" She looked him over. "Are you going to be performing in the show, too, doing trick riding and all that?"

  Caleb laughed. "No. I'm not near the rider Shannon is, and frankly, I don't share her love of horses either. I'm just here visiting and taking in the show."

  That's when Bethel took a good look at Shannon. "What have you gone and done to that pretty pink gown?"

  Shannon glanced down at herself. The dress was streaked with dirt, probably ground in so good it would never come out. She winced a little as she said, "I have to fall off my horse as part of the act, and I can't help but get a little dirty."

  "Then you won't be wearing that gown again." Bethel marched over to her rack of costumes. "We're going to have to get you a new dress, something the color of dirt."

  She finally settled on a split-skirt gown of sturdy dark green duck checkered with squares of blue. It sported a wide white collar with a matching green checkered scarf at the throat.

  "This will have to do," Bethel said, "but I can't get it ready for you before tomorrow. I guess you're going to have to wear what you got on for tonight's show."

  Again Shannon regarded the dress. "Maybe I can clean it up a bit before then."

  "Good idea, and that reminds me—everyone who works here has at least two jobs. Have you settled on anything besides your performance?"

  Shannon shook her head. "I didn't know I was supposed to do anything else."

  "You'd a found out sooner or later." Bethel paused a moment and then said, "How about working with me here? Are you a good seamstress?"

  Caleb laughed out loud.

  Shannon elbowed him in the ribs as she said, "Ah, no. I don't know how to sew."

  "Didn't your mother teach you?"

  Again Caleb laughed as Shannon admitted, "No, she doesn't know how to sew either."

  "Huh." Bethel cocked her hip. "Well who makes your clothing?"

  "My father, plus we get some store bought things."

  "Huh. What about helping out with the meals? You must know how to cook."

  Shannon slapped her hand across Caleb's mouth before he could cut loose with another donkey laugh. "Not really," she had to admit.

  "Let me guess," Bethel said. "Your mother doesn't know how?"

  Shannon sighed. "She cooks a little, but she's not too good at it."

  "So your father is also the family cook?"

  "Pretty much."

  Now Bethel laughed. "What are you good at besides riding horses?"

  "Taking care of them, I guess. I've spent most of my life in the barn or corrals working with and caring for horses."

  "All right then. I guess you'll have to report to Seth and have him put you to work."

  Seth again. Shannon rolled her eyes as she thought about the kind of work he might have in mind. She was pretty sure it would involve a shovel and a wheelbarrow.

  "We'll let you get back to your sewing," Shannon said, nudging Caleb. "I've got to find someplace to hide my brother before the next show starts."

  "Hide him?" Bethel glanced Caleb's way. "Why would you want to hide a handsome young man like him?"

  "Seth wants him off the property. I'm afraid if he sees Caleb again, he'll have him arrested or something."

  "Folderol. He will do no such thing." She lumbered over to her sewing machine. "You two go on now, and Caleb, you have a good time."

  "Nice to meet you, ma'am," Caleb said with a tip of his hat.

  Then he followed his sister out into the sunshine.

  As they walked toward the long single lady's tent, Shannon said, "You really ought to head back home now. Besides the fact that you are not wanted here, surely father needs your help at the ranch."

  "Aw, Shannon, he knows that I don't care a whit about horse ranching. Besides, if he needs any help, he can always count on Crowfoot."

  Shannon hadn't thought of Crowfoot in a long while. For all purposes and although he was not a blood relative, she and Caleb had always thought of him as their older brother. Crowfoot had lived at Winterhawke Ranch since well before they were even born. She didn't know much about his early life except that he'd been born with a clubfoot, a deformity a surgeon in Laramie had repaired. Except for a slight limp, there were no outward signs that he'd ever had a problem walking.

  "I don't know, Caleb. Crowfoot has his own family now and a cattle ranch to look after. He doesn't have time to come work at Winterhawke."

  "Time or not, we both know if father asks, Crowfoot will come running."

  True enough. He would do anything for the man who'd showed him what it was to love and live amongst friends and family. When neighbor and good friend Caleb Weatherspoon and his wife Kate had their first and only child, Kathleen, Crowfoot had pitched in and helped at their cattle ranch. Not only did he discover that raising cattle was in his future, but he eventually saw Kathleen as a young woman destined to be his bride.

  Lost in the past, Shannon didn't realize for several minutes that Caleb was no longer walking beside her.

  She turned in a slow circle and spotted him talking with a young woman who was holding a camera. Shannon groaned, knowing full well that she would never get rid of her brother if he realized that the show was always documented by photographers who traveled with the troupe. Caleb may not have been interested in horses or ranching, but he was absolutely passionate about photography.

  As she approached him, Shannon said, "I see you've found something of interest."

  Caleb turned to her, eyes narrow. "Why didn't you tell me this show had its own photographers?"

  She shrugged. "I guess I kind of forgot about them."

  "You go on about your business," Caleb said. "This young lady, Mirabella Crowell, is going to take me to the family tent and introduce me to her father."

  The young lady in question, a girl a year or two younger than Shannon, looked up at Caleb with glowing adoration. Between the photographic equipment and the blue-eyed blond, Shannon knew she would never be able to convince him to return home.

  "Oh," Caleb said. "Take a look at this."

  With that, he took the camera from Mirabella's hand and showed it to Shannon. "This is one of Kodak's newest, a camera with folding bellows. When you close it, this camera can fit in your pocket. Best of all, the Crowell's also have a Kodak Developing Machine in their tent."

  Shannon's eyes kind of glazed over as he went on about all the wonderful things the camera and machine could do, and then finally, he and Mirabelle headed for the family tent. Shannon quickly made her way to the single lady's tent and changed into her usual buckskin trousers and shirt. After cleaning the pink gown as best as she could, she started for the corrals.

  And Seth.

  Chapter 7

  Seth led the little palomino mare outside of the corral and tied her to the hitching post. Speaking softly to her with words only she could hear, he carefully ran his hand down her leg. When he reached her fetlock and felt what he'd feared, he uttered a curse he rarely used.

  "I've found that horses generally respond better if you talk nice to them."

  Shannon Winterhawke. Of course.

  Seth turned, surprised to see that she'd come so close undetected. "Excuse my foul mouth, Miss Winterhawke. I don't usually use such language."

  She moved on up next the horse and ran her hand across the mare's muzzle. "What did this pretty lady do to get you in such an uproar?"

  "She sassed me."

  Shannon narrowed her eyes and for a moment, Seth figured he was in for another tongue-lashing. It didn't happen, giving him a little time to look her over. She was back in her buckskins, but now her hair was loose and brushed, gleaming with fire in the bright sunlight. All in all, Shannon was a very beautiful woman—once you got past her sassy mouth and know-it-all attitude. Thoughts of her mouth drew his gaze to her lips, so luscious, full, and eager. She was a fast learner, that was for sure, and those lips would be his twice a day every d
ay as long as she stayed with the troupe. Seth's breath caught at the thought and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his Levis.

  "Why are you staring at me like that?" Shannon asked. "Didn't you make it over to the mess tent for supper yet?"

  Caught gawking at a woman as if he were a pubescent farm boy, he muttered, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to stare. I was just wondering if you'd like to examine Lucy here. Maybe you can tell me what's wrong with her. She came up lame after the show."

  Seth backed away from the mare and watched as Shannon slowly ran her hand down Lucy's leg. When she got to the horse's fetlock, she paused a moment, and then said, "Oh, dear. I think she's got a bone chip on her ankle."

  Seth wasn't going to admit it, but he was impressed. "So what do you think we ought to do about it?"

  Shannon stood away from the horse, but kept her gaze on the injured leg. "We?" she asked.

  "You, then. What would you do with her?"

  She frowned and shook her head. "Depends on how bad it is, I guess. If she were mine, I'd try to save her before giving up, that's for sure."

  Seth nodded. "That's very humane of you, but you have to consider the fact that this animal is part of a traveling show. We'll be loading up the livestock into railroad cars right after the last performance, and we really don't have a place to keep her separate from the other horses."

  Shannon paced in a slow circle, thinking things over. Then she suddenly brightened and said, "What if I bind her leg, and then stay with her on the train to help keep the other horses away?"

  Seth opened his mouth to speak, but heard one of the cowboys calling his name, and in a rather frantic manner. "Stay right there with Lucy," he said to Shannon. "I've to go see what's wrong. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  With that, he threw one leg through the fence and ducked into to the corral.

  * * *

  Shannon only thought Seth had looked good in his all black costume apparel. Now, with three hours before the next show was to begin, he was in his work clothes, tight Levis and a blood-red shirt. He was hatless, too, his wavy black hair mussed by the breeze, a few lengths tickling his forehead with the back hanging down below his collar. Added to that was his gentle ways with the horses, a definite plus if she happened to be looking for a husband, which she was not. Still, how could the man be so appealing and yet so aggravating at the same time?