Silver-Tongued Devil

by Lorelei James

  Dinah shook her head. Silas could be so ornery sometimes, especially with Jonas. Jonas was the older twin only by twenty minutes. But to hear Silas tell it, Jonas acted years older. Sometimes she saw it—like now, when Silas overreacted like a petulant child.

  Whatever Jonas said in response, Dinah didn’t hear.

  But Silas’s derisive snort was loud and clear.

  Then the thwacks became louder. Faster. Not in a natural way. She listened as she dredged the chicken pieces in flour. That done, she stepped outside to wash her hands and saw Silas and Jonas each with an axe, chopping wood as fast as they could.

  “What in the world is going on out here?”

  “No time to talk, darlin’, me’n Jonas is havin’ a contest. The winner gets—”

  “Silas McKay, didn’t you learn your lesson the last time you took a bet?” she demanded.

  He grunted.

  Jonas laughed and Silas told him to piss up a rope, which only made Jonas laugh harder.

  Even laughing, Jonas didn’t miss a swing in his quest to finish his log pile first.

  Dinah rounded the corner of the cabin to the new cold storage box Silas had built. She pulled out two eggs and a jar of cream. She purposely ignored their huffing and puffing as she walked past them into the house.

  She scooped a dollop of duck fat into the biggest cast iron pot. As she waited for it to heat, she mixed up milk batter, adding a touch of vinegar, and dunked the chicken into it. After tossing all the pieces into the pan, she slid the lid on and moved on to her next task.

  “Dinah, come quick!”

  She raced out of the house muttering, “I knew one of you would get injured.”

  Silas and Jonas were both bent over, air soughing in and out of their lungs.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’,” Silas wheezed. “Whose is bigger?”

  “Excuse me?”

  He gestured to the piles. “Who has more wood.”

  This was what the “Dinah, come quick!” had been about?

  They were both looking at her as if they had every right to interrupt her work to play mama and declare a winner in their petty games.

  Nope.

  Propping her hands on her hips, she said, “Well, stand up and drop your drawers.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? To prove which one of you has a bigger c—”

  “DINAH!” Silas yelled. “That ain’t what we were doin’ at all!”

  “Oh. Right. If you’re identical in all ways then you’re probably endowed the same, so you have no need for me to be out here judging the size of your…wood…when I need to be inside making sure my damn chicken doesn’t burn.”

  She flounced back inside.

  Jonas huffed out a laugh. “I like her. I mostly like that she’s already got a hold of your bollocks nice and tight.”

  After hearing that, she slammed the door.

  She’d just finished frying the chicken when the door opened and Silas yelled in, “Is it safe to come in or are you still sore?”

  “Come in. It’s your house.”

  Silas moved in behind her and kissed the nape of her neck. “It’s our house, darlin’.”

  “Did you work off your extra energy?”

  “Some of it.” He pressed another kiss to her temple. “I’m savin’ the rest for you.”

  She whirled around, biting back the wince of pain, and noticed he still hadn’t put on a shirt. Peering around his arm to make sure his brother wasn’t watching, she lapped at the sweat that had pooled in the hollow of his throat. “Mmm. You still taste angry though.”

  He hissed in a breath. “Don’t start something we can’t finish.”

  “Then put some clothes on. If your brother is half-naked tell him the same.”

  He held fast to her arm and the agony from it nearly knocked her to her knees. “Sugar pie, have you been drinkin’?”

  Whiskey dulled the pain, so she’d been sneaking a nip as needed. “Yes. It’s a day for celebration. And after the morning I had, I have every right to get rip roaring drunk.”

  Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have a response for that.

  Dinah dished up the chicken, potatoes and gravy, green beans and cream biscuits. She’d mixed sugar with the leftover sour cherries to create a sweet drink. But it wasn’t sweet enough. “Silas, do we have rum? Or just whiskey?”

  “Just whiskey. If you want rum—”

  “Put it on the list” they finished together and laughed.

  That’s when Jonas sauntered in. He sent them an amused smile and pulled out his chair. “Dinah. This looks outstanding. Thanks for cookin’ for us.”

  “My pleasure.”

  There wasn’t much small talk during the meal. Dinah wondered if it was a habit with them or if they were avoiding a specific conversation about the morning’s events. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked Jonas.

  “Heading back into town. Gotta make sure none of the kids burn the buildings down with their fireworks.”

  Maybe he and Ruby had made plans to meet up later.

  “Sundance?” Silas asked. “Or Labelle?”

  “Labelle. There’s a community dance in Sundance after the city fireworks. I expect it’ll be quiet in Labelle since most businesses are closed, unlike Sundance where everything is open later than usual.” He wiped his fingers. “Are you stayin’ here tonight, Dinah?”

  “I’d planned on it. But now I wonder if I should be at Doc’s in case there are fireworks injuries.”

  “Nope. You’re stayin’ here. He can do without you for one damn night.” Silas picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I can’t.”

  “Aww. Listen to you sweet-talk me, McKay.” She winked at Jonas. “You think his need for me to stay has something to do with the fact I haven’t finished baking that cherry pie yet?”

  Jonas laughed. “Maybe.”

  After they finished their late lunch, the brothers rode off for “a bit” without saying where they were headed. Dinah washed the dishes, put the pie in the oven and wandered out to check on the potatoes and other root vegetables she’d planted. But even that brought her pain. Since she was alone, she allowed herself to give in to tears.

  Silas returned alone. In a somber mood.

  After he dealt with his horse, he returned inside and immediately came back out with the box containing the gun he’d gotten at Farnum’s.

  “Darlin’, come here. I wanna show you how to load this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s different than the Winchester 30-30 rifle and the Colt revolver we practiced with last week.”

  “I’m not in the mood.” God. She ached. There was no way she could hold up a gun for more than a second or two.

  His fingers circled her wrist, keeping her from flouncing off. “Then get in the mood, because we’re target shootin’ with this.”

  “It’s…little,” she said when he held it up.

  “Got enough stopping power to make you rethink that little comment.” He held it out for her to inspect. “It’s a Remington Model 95 derringer. Over/under double barrel. Ammo is .41rimfire and I got you a box of that too.”

  “Silas. I don’t—”

  “Just hold it.” Then he dropped it in the palm of her hand.

  “It’s heavier than I expected.”

  “And yet, it’ll fit in your apron pocket.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “I can’t carry a gun around all the time.”

  “I don’t expect you to. You can put it under your pillow when you’re sleepin’.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be.” He opened a box of bullets. “Let’s get it loaded so you can practice doin’ it yourself and then we’ll target shoot.”

  There was no arguing with him. Nor had he given her a chance to sneak inside for a sip to dull the pain that would accompany all this movement.

  After she’d shot and reloaded five or
six times, she understood why Silas had picked this model for her. It fit her hand. Dropping it in her pocket didn’t weight it down any more than a large apple would. Because she had a better grip on the smaller gun, her accuracy was higher than with the Colt. Within an hour she could blow a pinecone off the top of the fencepost nearly every time.

  Silas had seemed pleased.

  And she’d understood his seriousness about her learning how to use it when he’d foregone pie in order to teach her.

  Later that night, after they’d read from The Red Badge of Courage, and they lay cuddled together in the darkness, Silas spoke. “I didn’t break my promise to you today. I didn’t go off half-cocked until after Zeke threatened you.”

  “What?”

  “After I knocked him down, he promised he’d take you away from me. He wanted to prove how easy it’d be and how much he looked forward to seein’ me fall apart.”

  She shivered and he tightened his hold on her. “Did you tell Jonas what he said?”

  “Yeah. But it don’t matter. No one heard that exchange but me’n Zeke. Zeke made sure no one heard it.”

  “Is Jonas going to tell the sheriff?”

  “Says he plans to, but he warned me it won’t change anything. It’s my word against West’s. And if he got to the sheriff first…”

  She tipped her head back to try and read his eyes, but the darkness was absolute. “Where did you and Jonas go today?”

  “I showed him where I’m hidin’ my money. In case something happens to me.”

  “Hiding your money,” she repeated. “You don’t keep your money in the bank?”

  Silas snorted. “I don’t trust banks.”

  “But you ‘trust’ your money is safer…buried?”

  “Yep.”

  How hadn’t she known this about him? “Handy that you have your own bank. What do you call it? The Stinky Old Boot Savings and Loan?”

  “Not funny. Bankers are crooks. Plus, banks get robbed all the damn time. The money is safer with me. I just needed Jonas to see where I’d stashed it.”

  “Why didn’t you show me where you keep it?”

  “Because we agreed not to talk about money. At least not until we’re married. Remember?”

  Was he really throwing that in her face now?

  “Jonas needs to know where stuff is because he’ll take care of everything for me.”

  “Am I one of those things, Silas?”

  “Now, don’t go getting all het up about this. My brother has a better understanding of what needs done. And I did it because I don’t want you to worry.”

  “About some ‘man’ stuff I can’t understand? Piss off, McKay.” Dinah tossed back the covers and limped out of the cabin into the cool night air.

  Silas barreled out, right behind her, not giving a fig that the only thing he wore on his bared flesh was moonlight. And she was so mad she forced herself not to look at his manhood, since he’d chosen now as the first time he’d displayed it to her.

  “Hey now. That ain’t fair.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.” She propped her left hand on her left hip. “What else did you and Jonas talk about?” Then, as if the wind whispered it to her, she knew. “You asked him to take care of me if Zeke does the unthinkable to you. No, you asked him to marry me.”

  “Dinah—”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  He sighed. “You’re not.”

  “Goddammit McKay, you can’t demand that of your brother! He has a life and his own love story to live. Not to mention I am not some…prized heifer to be passed on to the next big bull that comes along. I can take care of myself.”

  “Jesus, woman. Settle down.”

  She shrugged off his touch and stepped away.

  He followed and tried to put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Sugar pie, you don’t mean that,” he said softly and attempted to circle his arms around her waist.

  Dinah spun around and her new little derringer was in her hand, pointed at his chest. “I said back off, McKay.”

  His hands went up. “Okay. Let’s just take a moment here. And please lower that loaded pistol, darlin’.” He paused. “Please.”

  “Fine.” She let it dangle by her side.

  “Hell fire, woman. I didn’t even see you snatch it off the table.”

  “Maybe I had it under my pillow like you suggested,” she cooed.

  “Christ. You’re in a mood.”

  “Yep, a bad mood. If you were smart, you’d say yes darlin’ when I told you I wanted to mount my horse and head back to Doc’s.”

  Then he loomed over her. “Like hell that’s happening. You wouldn’t even get there until midnight.”

  “I can tell time,” she snapped. “And I know you’d follow me regardless if I told you not to, which means you wouldn’t get back here until one a.m. and I know you have to get up and check cattle early. So I’ll stay. But I’m mad at you. Go to bed and leave me alone. I’ll come in when I’ve worked off my mad, but I’ll be sleeping in Jonas’s bed, not yours.”

  Silas growled at her.

  She pointed at the open door with the gun. “Now get in there before you get bug bites on your pecker.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Where’d you hear that term?”

  “From a friend.”

  “I’m leavin’ the door open,” he groused, giving her a great view of his tightly muscled rear end before he disappeared into darkness.

  Dinah watched the stars, trying to empty her mind.

  But it didn’t work. She hated that Zeke had done what he’d promised: made it so not a day went past that they didn’t think about him.

  When she couldn’t quit yawning, she padded back inside and quietly closed the door. After setting her gun on the table, she cut to the left and climbed into Jonas’s bed. She didn’t really want to sleep there, but she had to stick to her guns.

  That phrase made her smother her laughter in Jonas’s pillow.

  But her hysteria gave way to tears.

  Almost immediately, she found herself airborne and then tucked into a warm male body.

  “I’m sorry, darlin’. I tried. But you belong in my bed, next to me, not across the damn room.” He nuzzled her ear. “I especially can’t listen to you cry and not have you in my arms.”

  “Silas.”

  “Am I the cause of them tears?”

  “No.”

  “Thank god for that.”

  After she’d found a position that hurt neither her arm nor the knife wound, she nestled her cheek against the downy hair on his chest. His scent, his strength, the way he tended to her needs was everything she’d ever wanted. He cared for her enough to give her the independence she needed, but in doing that he compromised his protective nature and that in turn was hard for him. That gave her the courage to tell him the decision she’d come to when she’d considered what they were truly up against.

  “What’s churning in that brain of yours?” he said softly.

  “That I’m scared.”

  “Me too, darlin’.”

  It was a big step that he’d admitted that to her. “Our fear—our future—is worth more than money.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Fulfilling my work promise to Doc isn’t more important than the promise I’ve made to you. The money I’d earn in the next year teaching and working for him would help us, but not as much as us being together will give us peace of mind that money can’t buy. You can’t protect me from thirty miles away. I know that it’s eating at you, Silas, that Zeke can get to me when I’m in Labelle. So the logical solution is to get married as soon as possible—we’ll be together and able to protect each other all the time.”

  Silas shifted to stare into her eyes. “You mean it?”

  “I do. We’re stronger together than we are apart.”

  “Yes, that we are.” He kissed her with such love and tenderness her eyes welled up again. “Christ, woman, I do love yo
u.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Tomorrow after cattle check, we’ll hitch up the wagon and get your things from Doc’s. We’ll swing by the Crook County Courthouse and see about getting a marriage license. Doubt we can get it tomorrow, bein’s Mondays are their busiest day, but you’ll be Mrs. McKay this week for sure.”

  Of all the decisions she’d made today, this one had been the easiest. “I can’t wait.”

  “Me neither.” He blew in her ear and expelled a cocky chuckle when she shivered and moaned. “Now get some sleep, because as soon as you’re my wife, we ain’t gonna get much sleep when we’re in this bed.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The day had gone to hell from the start.

  Silas had awoken before Dinah—not unusual. He’d done his morning business, washed up, and made a pot of coffee. He’d poured Dinah a cup and carried it to where she still slept, curled into the bedcoverings as if still hugging him.

  Her shift had risen up her thighs and his admiring gaze moved over her half-nekkid form.

  That’s when he noticed the blood.

  At first, he’d believed she’d just gotten her monthly flow, but none of the red was between her legs. It seeped through her nightgown on the lower right side of her back. When he leaned closer to get a better look, he also noticed the bruising on her right arm. Hand shaped bruises in two spots, the impressions deep enough to make out the individual demarcations of each finger.

  Zeke had hurt her yesterday. In three different spots that he could see—who knew if there were other places she’d hidden from him?—and she’d fucking lied about it.

  Lied.

  To his face.

  What the hell had happened to her promise that she wouldn’t keep things from him?

  It’s not as if you’re not keeping things from her too.

  Yeah, but those things were for her own good.

  Maybe she believed this was for your own good. How would you have reacted yesterday if you’d known she was bleeding and bruised at the hands of Zeke West?

  Silas would’ve killed him. Right then and there.

  And he’d be in jail.

  Even if she would’ve shown him the injuries last night, he likely would’ve gotten up, ridden to the snake pit that West crawled out of and killed him.