Texas Tender (6 page)

Any successful businessman knew money always mattered, but getting out of Dunmore with a whole skin mattered more. Still . . .

“What would it take to convince you?” Lloyd asked.

Will thought of how little he was looking forward to eating his meals at the unappetizing little restaurant in town and decided he could put up with a bit of danger as long as he had decent food. Isabelle was a tyrant, but she had turned into a fabulous cook.

“Food,” Will said.

“What?” three male voices asked in unison.

“If you can arrange for somebody to provide me with three meals a day—cooked at home and served at a table with clean linens—I'll be your sheriff until I buy the bull.”

“You mean you want a table set up in the jail?” Andy asked.

“I'll be happy to eat with the family. I just don't want to be poisoned before I can get out of here.”

The men looked at each other. “Do you think we can do that?” Jordan asked.

“After what he did for Pepper, Dorabelle would cook for him every day,” Lloyd said. “I wouldn't be surprised if we have women lining up to cook for him.”

“Of course they will. He's gorgeous,” Mara gushed.

Sometimes Will got impatient with people's reaction to his looks. After all, he could have been as evil as he was attractive, but occasionally his looks came in handy. Besides, with two deputies, he wouldn't have much to do. Getting to meet a different family every time he sat down to eat might be an interesting way to pass the week.

“Is it a deal?” Will asked.

“It sure is,” Lloyd said. “And to prove it, you're coming home with me for supper. Andy can arrange for breakfast tomorrow and Jordan for supper. By then we ought to have the rest of the week taken care of.”

Will could practically hear Jake laughing at the mess he'd gotten himself into. At least he'd have something decent to eat. And as soon as he got a chance, he'd look into what had happened to Idalou's bull.

“My first act as sheriff will be to make it a rule that no young woman is to be out alone after dark,” he said, directing his remark to Mara. “There are too many drunks wandering around for that to be safe.”

“I already have that rule,” McGloughlin said, giving his daughter a severe look.

“Then I'll leave it up to you to enforce it,” Will said.

“Anything else?” Lloyd asked.

“Yes. My stomach thinks my throat has been cut.”

Lloyd laughed. “Come on. If we don't hurry, we'll be late for supper.”

Being sheriff had its advantages. Will had gotten up from Dorabelle Severns's table the previous evening feeling in charity with the world. A good wine and a stout brandy had topped off a very satisfying meal. Mrs. Davis's breakfast this morning hadn't been as spectacular, but he'd had to push back from the table while he was still able to stand. He seated himself at his desk, opened a drawer, and idly surveyed its contents. “How's the prisoner this morning?” he asked Emmett, one of his two deputies.

“Mad as hell and threatening to plant you in the ground next to our last sheriff.”

“Since I have no desire to be planted in the ground, regardless of whom I'm next to, maybe we ought to let him spend a little more time in his cell.”

“We never keep drunks longer than overnight.”

“So?”

“So there has to be some reason you want to keep him locked up.”

“You think I'm afraid of him?”

“Everybody else is. He's the fastest draw in three counties.”

“I keep hearing that,” Will said as he got to his feet. “I think I'd like to see for myself.”

Emmett blanched. “You going to face him in a gunfight?”

Will opened drawers in the desk until he found one with a pair of guns. “How else am I going to find out?”

“It won't do you no good iffen you're dead.”

“I don't plan to die.” He checked each gun for bullets. Both were empty. He held up one to show Emmett. “I don't plan to use bullets.”

Emmett followed Will back to the jail cells, shaking his head as he went. Newt sprang to his feet.

“Let me out,” he shouted. “I ain't done nothing wrong.”

“I suppose you consider it perfectly okay to force an unwilling young woman to let you kiss her.”

“I didn't mean no harm,” Newt said.

“I'm not interested in that just now,” Will said. “I want to see if you're as fast as everybody thinks.”

A calculating expression claimed Newt's face. “How do you aim to prove that?”

“I'll give you a gun. On Emmett's signal we'll both draw. He decides which one is the fastest.”

“The bullet will do that,” Newt said with a grin.

“It might if the guns were loaded, but they won't be.”

Newt turned angry. “Okay, let me out.”

“Not yet. You might decide to run away before we find out who's faster.”

Newt's expression turned contemptuous. “I'm not afraid to try this with bullets.”

“I am. I wouldn't want you to have a second sheriff's scalp to add to your gun belt.” Will handed a gun and holster through the bars to Newt and waited while he strapped it on. “We'll both nod when we're ready.” Will removed his coat, hung it on a nail in the wall, and strapped on his own gun. “Then we wait for Emmett's signal.”

Newt's confidence was so high, he was practically dancing in his cell. “You going to let me out if I prove I can kill you in a fair fight?”

“I've asked Mara McGloughlin to stop by this morning. I'll let you out after you apologize to her.”

Newt stopped dancing and scowled at Emmett. “Hurry up, then. I want to get out of here.”

Emmett took a deep breath, held it for a second, then said, “Now!”

Two hands flew to the holsters. Two guns were drawn and two clicks sounded loud in the limited confines of the jail.

“He beat you!”

All three men turned to see a dazed Mara Mc-Gloughlin standing in the doorway.

“He sure did,” Emmett said, looking at Will in shocked disbelief. “I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.”

“You can't tell which gun would have fired first,” Newt protested.

“It was the sheriff's,” Emmett insisted.

“How did you do that?” Mara asked. “Nobody's ever beat Newt.”

“Have you ever heard of Luke Attmore?” Will asked.

Mara shook her head, but Newt said, “He's the most famous gunman in three states. Don't try to tell me you beat him.”

“I never could, though I tried hundreds of times.”

Newt laughed. “Nobody's lasted more than one gunfight with him.”

Will unbuckled his holster. “We didn't have real fights. He's my brother. He taught me how to draw.” He was confronted by three disbelieving faces. “My adopted brother,” Will clarified.

“You going to let me out?” Newt growled.

“As soon as you hand over the gun and apologize to Miss McGloughlin.”

Newt unbuckled the holster and pushed it through the bars, letting it fall on the floor.

Will stopped Emmett from picking them up. “That doesn't demonstrate good manners,” he said to Newt, “and throws doubt on whether your apology to Miss McGloughlin would be sincere.”

Mara and Emmett looked at Will as if he were insane. Newt glared at him through rage-filled eyes.

“I'm going to kill you.”

“I expect you'll try,” Will said calmly, “but you can't do it from jail. And you won't get out unless you
pick up that gun, hand it to Emmett, and apologize to Miss McGloughlin. If you can't manage to apologize in the next few minutes, I'll give you another day in jail to think about it.”

Newt turned so red in the face, Will thought he was going to start screaming at him. Instead, he collected himself, reached through the bars, picked up the gun and holster, and handed it to Emmett. The deputy handled it like a hot coal.

“I'm sorry I bothered you,” Newt said to Mara. “I was too drunk to know what I was doing.”

Mara nodded her acceptance of his apology.

“Let him out,” Will said to Emmett before turning back to Newt. “Next time you drink too much, have one of your friends get you out of town before you land in trouble.”

“I'm not done with you,” he said to Will when Emmett stepped back and let him leave the jail cell.

“Then don't let the grass grow under your feet,” Will said. “I won't be here long.”

Newt muttered a threat and stormed out of the jail.

“You're so brave,” Mara said with a sigh.

Emmett left to make his rounds, and Mara followed Will back to his office.

“Mama said supper would be ready at six, but you could come anytime before that. She says she's got to thank the man who saved her little girl's honor.”

“I'll be sure to be there on time.” Will sat down at his desk, dropped the two guns into their drawer, and closed it.

“I hope you do come early,” Mara said. “There are lots of things I want to know about you.”

“Like what?” Will asked, suddenly aware of the true nature of Mara's expression and beginning to feel like a fly cornered by a spider.

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“You sweet on anybody?”

He should have answered yes to both questions, but he'd learned long ago that although telling lies might help at a given moment, in the long run they caused even more trouble.

“No, but I'm not the marrying type.”

“Why? You're not very old.”

“I'm twenty-eight.”

“I like older men. They're more mature.”

“You're too young for someone my age,” Will said. “You need a husband who won't be old when you're still young.”

“I'm eighteen,” Mara said.

“See, that's ten years. Practically a lifetime.”

Mara laughed. “You're funny.”

Will wasn't feeling the least bit amused. He realized that saving Mara had turned him into a hero in her eyes. From there it was only a short leap to husband material. He hadn't been avoiding the clutches of females for more than ten years to fall victim to some young woman who couldn't see reality because of the shining armor blinding her.

“You shouldn't be thinking of marriage yet. You have years and years to enjoy having men adore you.”

Mara frowned. “Mama says I should be married already. She was a mama when she was my age.”

“Do you want to be a mama?”

Mara looked besotted. “If I can have your babies.”

Will nearly choked. “You don't even know me. I could be a murderer, for all you know. You should marry some nice young man you've known all your life.”

Mara frowned again. “Papa wants me to marry Van, but I used to be sweet on Carl Ellsworth.”

“
Used to be?
”

“Until I met you.”

Now he was in for it. All he wanted to do was buy a bull. How complicated could that be? Instead, the damned bull was missing, he'd let Lloyd Severns talk him into being sheriff, and now the daughter of the richest man in town was infatuated with him and wanted to have his babies. He could barely resist the temptation to toss his badge on the desk and hop on a fast horse out of town.

“Stick with Carl. He's a nice fella.”

“Papa says I can't marry a poor man.”

“What makes you think I'm not poor?”

“You're buying that bull.”

“Maybe I'm not buying it. Maybe my father is.”

“If your father is rich, you are, too.”

Boy, did this girl have a lot to learn. “Jake adopted eleven kids, then had one of his own. Even if he wanted to give me money, it wouldn't be much. I'm probably no richer than Carl.”

“Papa said everybody knows that Jake Maxwell owns practically a whole county. He thinks you'll make a fine husband.”

“You mentioned this to your father!”

“To Mama, too. She can't wait to meet you. That's why she wants you to come early to supper. They won't let me marry Carl, and I don't want to marry Van, but they said I could marry you.”

Will felt the noose tightening around his neck. All he'd done was protect a young woman from abuse, and now she wanted to marry him. What was wrong with women that once they got a look at his face, nothing else seemed to matter? Everybody knew the best-looking horse rarely had the most stamina, coordination, intelligence, or a decent disposition. Didn't they understand it could be the same with people? Especially men.

“Choosing a husband is much too important to compromise on,” he said. “If you don't really love him—”

“I love you,” Mara assured him.

Unfortunately, she spoke just as Carl walked through the door. For a moment he looked devastated. In an instant his expression changed to anger. He turned his blazing gaze on Mara, but Will was certain it would find him soon enough.

“Just yesterday you said you loved me,” Carl said. “Seems all it took was a pretty face and you forgot all about that.”

“He saved me from Newt,” Mara said.

“I'd have saved you if I'd been there,” Carl insisted.

“But you weren't there,” Mara pointed out. “Besides, everybody in Dunmore is afraid of Newt.” She favored Will with a brilliant smile. “Will's not. And he can draw faster than Newt. I saw it.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Emmett saw it, too,” Mara said, drawing herself up to confront Carl. “I can't love anybody who doesn't believe me.”

“Mara, everybody knows you make up things.”

“I do not. I only exaggerate sometimes.”

“I think you're straying from the point here,” Will said. “You two are in love with each other. You need to be talking about how to convince your parents that you're perfect for each other.”

“How can he be perfect for me when he can't stop his sister from accusing Papa of trying to ruin them?” Mara demanded of Will.