Anora's Pride Read online

  “No harm done,” Jesse said, passing her the tea. His lean brown fingers brushed her open palm in a way that set a couple of dozen butterflies batting about her insides. Lord, what a smile the man had. And his eyes. He had a way of looking clear through a body, leaving Anora with the uncomfortable feeling that in a few intense seconds he'd unearthed every one of her carefully guarded secrets and ferreted out a few new ones besides.

  As Jesse's eyes remained on Anora she felt a wave of heat creep up her neck. Beneath her bonnet her ears were burning.

  “Marshal Quantrill, meet Mrs. King,” Richelle said pointedly.

  “A pleasure,” he said, clasping her hand, tea and all in both his hands. “Ricki tells me you live on the outskirts of town. Any problems out your way with Rosco and his boys?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You let me know if that changes, you understand? ‘Cause I hear tell they've rustled cattle from several of your neighbors.”

  “Don't have much in the way of livestock at Three Boulders,” Anora said. “So I guess they won't be coming around bothering us none.”

  “Never can tell what a group like that will do,” he said, releasing her hand and turning his attention to Lettie and Sam. Packages clutched tight, Anora pushed her way through the crowded store, feeling a deep abiding sense of having narrowly escaped. Escaped from what, she hadn't the faintest idea.

  The following day Anora was once more in position at the train station, her trusty wheelbarrow filled with lunches. In a moment of inspiration she had made miniature bread loaves, splitting and filling each loaf with Lettie's finest smoked ham, fresh-churned butter, a slab of cheese, and a dill pickle slice. The result was different from her usual lunch fare, and she was contemplating raising her prices a nickel when her heart skipped a beat, then sped right up, at the sight of the marshal.

  “Good day, Mrs. King.” As he spoke, Jesse tipped his hat and Anora realized that, until this moment, a gentleman had never in her entire twenty years tipped his hat to her. Folks had treated her differently since that first day someone called her Mrs. King and she didn't make the correction. She liked the freedom her alleged marital status fetched her, even if she did feel guilt over the deceit.

  At the admiring look in Jesse's dark brown eyes, she felt a slow warmth of approval chug through her veins. “Good day, Marshal. Are you meeting the train?”

  Jesse nodded.

  “Me, too. I mean, I'm here every day. Folks been telling me lately that they know to look out for me at this stop.”

  “And how do they know that?”

  “I don't rightly know. The conductors, I guess. And the spotters.”

  Jesse nodded. “Word of mouth. Usually a businessperson's most effective advertising.”

  Lord almighty. He was talking to her like she was somebody important. Someone who mattered. “Who's on the train?” she blurted out, then bit her lip, aware it was hardly any of her business.

  “A lawman's best friend. In this instance, my horse, Sully.” He cocked his head. “Don't you have a parasol? To keep the sun off you? You're getting freckles.”

  Anora rubbed the back of her hand self-consciously across the bridge of her nose, resolving to attack the much-hated freckles with some fresh-squeezed lemon juice. “Parasol'd just get in the way,” she said. “I need both hands.” She didn't add that the price for such a luxury was far beyond her reach.

  Jesse just smiled a slow, spreading smile as he continued to observe her. “I like them. The freckles. They suit you.”

  Anora felt herself blushing what had to be twenty different shades of crimson. Desperately she sought to change the subject. “Why'd you name your horse Sully?”

  “ ‘Cause when I got him he was the sullenest thing on four legs. He's a lot more mellow now. In fact he's a right good old boy.”

  “Why didn't he come with you yesterday?”

  “Old Sully had a bit of unfinished business to attend to. Male-type business, if you get what I mean.”

  Anora didn't get what he meant in the least, and her face must have registered the fact.

  Jesse laughed as if greatly amused. “He's been hard at work. Studded out.”

  “Oh.” If Anora felt embarrassed earlier, it was nothing compared to now. What an idiot he must think her. More than that, she received a sudden, clear picture of Sully, doing his manly duty to some receptive filly. The image strangely excited her.

  “He's got offspring from one coast to the other, old Sully does.” Jesse winked. “I told him more than once, whenever he gets tired of the job to let me know, and I'll retire him. So far it hasn't happened.”

  Anora cleared her throat. “I'm not sure this is a proper conversation for us to be having.”

  Jesse just flashed her an incorrigible look. “You think on it. Once you decide, you just let me know, you hear?” That said, he turned and sauntered back the way he'd come, hands clasped behind his back, elegant long coattails swaying with every step he took. Anora wondered if he always dressed in black.

  She didn't have time to wonder more than that because the train arrived and she was busier than ever. Her new creation was enthusiastically received and she sold every last one of her miniature loaves at the higher price. She glanced down the tracks only once, in time to see Jesse leading a magnificent-looking animal out of a boxcar.

  Lord, it was hot. After the train left and the station slowly emptied she whipped off her bonnet, blotting the dampness from her forehead with a slightly grubby cuff. She'd best get home. If she didn't get the laundry washed she wouldn't have anything clean to wear tomorrow.

  She was about halfway home, thinking longing thoughts about a tall cool glass of lemonade, each step raising hazy plumes of dust on the parched road, when the front wheel rolled right off her wheelbarrow and flopped onto the roadway.

  “Pish, tish, and bother,” Anora said as she squatted next to the crippled wheelbarrow. The nut and bolt had come out. She spotted the bolt right away lying in the dust next to the wheelbarrow, but hard as she looked she didn't see the nut anyplace. Could be it had fallen out back at the train station, the bolt slowly working its way loose till now. That being the case, surely she could just reattach the wheel. With luck, it would last till she reached the ranch. She was in the middle of the road wrestling with the uncooperative rusty bolt, when she heard the sound of approaching horses.

  Four men, riding abreast, rounded a curve in the road ahead and came toward her. The sun was behind them, throwing their faces in shadow. Anora eyed them warily. It seemed to her that the countryside had suddenly gone deathly still. Not an insect buzzed. Not a bird chirped. Not a leaf rustled. Surrounding Anora from every direction was the overwhelming scent of danger.

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  Chapter 2

  The feeling of danger cut deep in the pit of her stomach, heightened as three riders lagged back and one lone man approached, bringing with him the scent of unwashed flesh and stale urine. Anora held her ground, aware she had little hope of losing herself in the cover of the underbrush.

  “Looks like you got yourself a bit of a problem.” The rider leaned over his saddlehorn toward her but showed no sign of dismounting or lending a helping hand.

  “It's almost fixed to rights,” Anora said, telling herself that as long as she didn't panic, didn't display her fear, she'd be just fine. Still, she couldn't control the slight trembling of her hands as she fiddled with the bolt, recalling a similar encounter with the gambler who'd killed her pa. Ben had saved her then. This time she had to save herself. She straightened, praying the bolt would hold. “Good as new.”

  “You hear that, boys? The little lady done fixed the problem all by herself. No need for us to be stopping to help.” He grinned at Anora, revealing a gap where two teeth were missing. “That being the case, I was wondering if maybe you could be helping us out.”

  “I don't—”

  “See, me and the boys, we're a little strapped for cash. If you wa
s to see your way clear to untie that pouch under your apron, we'd just relieve you of it and be on our way. Sweet and simple.”

  He unholstered his gun. “On the other hand, if you was to do something foolish... Well, it's hard to say how things might turn out.”

  Anora fought back her fear, trading it for anger. Why hadn't she stopped at Lettie's on the way home, like she did most days? If she had, her losses would be minimal.

  She jerked the cord around her waist and tossed the pouch to the outlaw. He caught it in his free hand, his grin widening at the weight of it.

  “Much obliged to you, ma'am.” Turning his horse around, he and the others disappeared through the bushes at the side of the road.

  Anora was down at the creek scrubbing clothes when she heard Ben arrive home. After one look at the way she was smashing her petticoat against a flat rock, he rushed to kneel at her side. “What's wrong?”

  She kept her eyes on her underpinnings. “Today, on the road from town, four men rode up and took my money.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “Nope. Never touched me.” She looked up at him. “Just took my money pouch and rode off.”

  Ben sat back awkwardly on his heels. “How much'd they get?”

  “I hadn't counted it.” She eyed her brother closely. He didn't seem half so upset as she was. Maybe if he knew she was saving every dime she could, to send him to that new hospital... No, she didn't want to go getting his hopes up. Best to wait and surprise him with the news.

  Ben shrugged philosophically and rose. “No sense crying over spilt milk. You'll get more money tomorrow, right?”

  Anora rose as well, resisting the urge to take hold of her brother and give him a bone-rattling shake. Lettie was right. She did mollycoddle him. She just felt so bad, ever since the accident, that he'd been the one who was hurt when the wagon flipped over, while she'd been thrown clear. “What's wrong with you? I was robbed! All my hard-earned money is gone.”

  “You got lots,” Ben said.

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Never give me any.”

  “You want money, get your own job.” Anora turned and stomped back toward the shack.

  “Who's going to be hiring a cripple?” Ben said. “Besides, I'm fixing up the place. Remember?”

  “And a right splendid job you've done so far,” Anora snapped. “Look here!” She waved an arm to encompass their sorry surroundings: fallen-over fences, dead trees, a ramshackle shack, and a run-down barn. The few scabby-looking chickens they'd bought when they arrived ran wild across the rutted, dusty yard. “We got ourselves a real nice, cozy home.” Hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her. All she'd ever wanted was a real home and to see her brother healthy and strong. Today that dream seemed farther away than ever.

  “I'm doing my best,” Ben said. “Don't know nothing about being a rancher.”

  “You know lots about the saloon, though, I'll wager. And the poker tables.”

  Ben gave her his best little-boy look. One he used when he wanted his own way. “You're just hot and upset. You don't mean what you're saying.”

  “I mean every blessed word. It's time you took some responsibility around here. Past time.”

  Ben's head shot up. His eyes narrowed. “You want responsibility? I'll give you responsibility.” Turning, he started toward his horse.

  “Where are you going?”

  Favoring his good leg, Ben mounted his sway-backed nag, jerking the reins so hard the poor animal's eyes rolled back in its head, ears flat. “Going to tell the marshal what happened. Let him do his job. Catch those crooks and get you your money back.”

  “Ben King, you come back here this instant. I mean it. I...” Sending her a final rebellious look, Ben dug his heels into the horse's flanks and rode off in a cloud of dust. She stared at his retreating back and knew the robbery was just an excuse. Like as not he'd wind up in the saloon, having forgotten everything she'd just said.

  Anora thought back to their arrival in Boulder Springs. For the umpteenth time she regretted the misunderstanding that originated when she and Ben first moved to Three Boulders, the desolate ranch that was now their home. At the time, it had seemed fairly harmless to pass themselves off as husband and wife rather than orphans. Lately, though, not a day passed when she didn't regret the lie she lived.

  It was late afternoon by the time Anora had pegged her wash to dry on the line she'd strung out in back of the shack. Ben hadn't returned, and a part of her was glad. He was getting awfully difficult to be around these days. She'd thought once they had a home he'd settle down. Instead, his temper seemed to grow shorter with each passing day. She reminded herself she had no ken what it felt like to live with constant pain the way Ben did.

  With towel and clean gown in hand, she returned to the creek, acutely aware that the Three Boulders Ranch was hardly the lush and prosperous spread she'd envisioned on the trip west. The parched and barren landscape was too rocky to farm. A meager, one-room shack afforded the barest of shelter, and although Anora had spent the first week scrubbing every square inch of the place, it was still dark and dingy. The barn was missing more than a few boards and listing to one side in a way that made her fear it might blow over in a strong wind.

  In fact, the only thing the ranch really had going for it was this pretty creek that meandered through the middle of it. The crystal-clear waters were ideal for a hot summer day's swim. And although Anora didn't know how to swim, she splashed and paddled with great abandon, after first scrubbing herself clean with a scented bar of soap Penny had given her for her birthday.

  Back on shore, Anora dressed quickly and pinned her wet hair atop her head. She had no business feeling sorry for herself. For the first time ever, she had not only a home but good friends like Lettie and Penny. She was earning a living. Once Ben's leg was fixed, he'd settle down and help her buy some livestock to raise on the ranch.

  Rounding the side of the cabin, head down, Anora barreled straight into the arms of a man. She gasped, stumbled, then felt his steadying hands grip her bare arms. When she looked up she let out a relieved breath. It was the marshal.

  “Mrs. King. I didn't mean to startle you. I knocked on the door, but no one answered.”

  “I was...” Anora paused, aware of the picture she made, her feet bare, clad in her oldest, nearly threadbare gown, with a ratty pile of wet hair dripping rivulets of water down her neck. “I was out back. I wasn't expecting anyone.”

  “Your husband stopped by my office. Reported that you'd been robbed. Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Where's Ben?”

  “Last I saw, he was headed in the direction of the Maverick.”

  Anora felt no surprise when he named the town's seediest saloon.

  “Did you get a good look at the men who robbed you?”

  “One of them.”

  “Why don't we go inside? You can tell me what you recall.”

  Anora thought quickly. She couldn't ask him in. The place was a hovel. Besides which, the marshal was no doubt an observant man. Wouldn't take much to figure out that Anora, alone, occupied the shack, while Ben slept out in the barn.

  “It's a dreadful mess. Washday and all. Why don't we talk out here, instead?”

  Jesse saw the brief flash of panic in her eyes. Plainly, the thought of inviting him inside threw Mrs. King into a tizzy. Which made him wonder what she had to hide. For no matter how bad her housekeeping, he'd be willing to bet he'd seen worse. Glancing around, his gaze lighted on a makeshift bench, a slightly bowed board nailed between two tree stumps. “Shall we sit over there?”

  “Good idea.” Anora didn't hide her relief at his suggestion. As she led the way to the bench, he noticed her bare feet and the sight stirred up an unwanted memory in him. He couldn't help thinking about his sister Rose, who'd had the same intelligent but unworldly air as Anora King.

  This here's a married woman, he reminded himself. Can't be half so unworldly as the airs she puts on.

 
Her hair was pinned up, displaying the slender column of her neck, and where her gown dipped low in back he could see the vertebrae in her neck and spine. A shaft of sunlight pierced fabric worn nearly transparent and revealed the fact that she didn't have a stitch on underneath. His body responded to the knowledge in a predictable way. Not only was Anora King, with her cinnamon-colored curls and green eyes, a fetching morsel, he'd always been a sucker for that beguiling air that reminded him of Rose.

  Except he didn't get hard looking at his sister. And he wasn't the sort to be lusting after another man's wife.

  Anora sat and smoothed her skirt, dainty bare feet dangling just inches above the ground. The bench was narrower than he'd first thought, and as Jesse settled himself next to her, his thigh brushed hers. There was barely enough room for the two of them, and he could feel her jutting hipbone through a gown so thin she might as well have been wearing nothing at all.

  “You didn't have to come all this way out here, Marshal.” She glanced at him through her lashes in a way that struck Jesse as totally unaffected. She had delicate, fine features, strongly marked brows, and the hint of a dimple in her chin. While he counted two dozen freckles marching across the bridge of her nose, she lowered her gaze to her lap, only to glance up, flushing when she saw that his eyes lingered on her face. “We don't get many visitors.”

  “Tell me about the robbery.” Jesse shifted, but his movements only put him in closer bodily contact, his arm brushing the indentation of her waist.

  “I was about halfway home. The wheel came off my barrow, so I stopped to fix it.”

  “You stopped to fix it?”

  “There wasn't anyone else.”

  “I see.”

  “That's when they came along. Four altogether. The sun was in back of them, so their faces were shadowed. Three hung back. The fourth rode right up to me.” She frowned, her brow wrinkling prettily. “Didn't seem real surprised to see me, now that I think about it.”

  “Do you come the same way every day?”

  “It's the only way.”

  “Same time?”