Reese (5 page)

The thought of Reese walking her home like a beau sent a shred of panic through Mary. She had no idea how to behave with a man who made her feel as he did. So she talked too fast and too much. "That isn't necessary. I live behind the school. In a little cabin. I used to board with each student for a week, but when people started leaving, I was able to take the cabin for my own. It's quite adorable, really. I just have to walk a few buildings down and turn."

"How convenient," he drawled.

Mary blushed. What did that mean? Since she didn't know, she kept on talking. "Tomorrow you can come by the school and we'll talk more about El Diablo."

"I can't wait."

A single set of footsteps skittered down the stairs. Seconds later, Jo burst into the foyer. "Oh! I didn't realize you were still here, Mary. We can walk home together."

"Wonderful." Mary glanced at Reese. "See? We'll be fine. Truly."

He merely raised an eyebrow. "How's Nate?"

"Sleeping," Jo answered. "Can't you make him stop drinking?"

"No."

"Just like that? No? Have you even tried?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure if you tried harder you could help him."

"Some things even I can't fix." He was staring at Mary when he said it. She hoped he was wrong.

"What's wrong with Nate that you can't fix?" Jo was like a dog with a bone most days.

Reese turned his gaze back to Jo. "I have no idea."

Jo scowled, grabbed Mary's hand, and marched them both out of the hotel. "Men," she muttered as soon as her feet hit the street.

Mary had to agree.

Chapter 3

Reese stepped onto the porch, rolled a cigarette with practiced fingers, and watched the two women walk home. They progressed past a few abandoned buildings and turned at the schoolhouse, only a stone's throw from the hotel.

Before she disappeared from sight, Mary looked back. When she saw him standing there, she hesitated, as if she'd wave or say good-bye, but her little friend just kept barreling around the corner and dragged Mary along with her.

Reese had seen women like Jo Clancy before. They thought they could save the world and every man in it. She'd have her hands full with Nate. The guy had been on a slow suicide mission since Reese had met him.

He put the cigarette in his mouth, cupping his hands to light it. Atlanta snorted in protest. He didn't like smoke. The horse would have been worthless in battle. Maybe that's why Reese liked him so damn much.

Taking a deep drag of the cigarette, Reese let the familiar gesture calm and soothe him as he thought back on his conversation with Mary.

Might any of his men have heard of, or met, El Diablo? Maybe Rico?

Nah. The Kid had left southern Texas when he was fourteen, and before that Reese had a feeling he'd been a pampered mama's boy, a Tejano whose father had been
criollo
—the Spanish aristocracy of Mexico. Therefore, Rico would have no cause to be acquainted with a low-down bandit. But if Rico came from the cream of Texas society, why had he gone to war when he was little more than a child?

Reese cursed beneath his breath. Why would he care? He'd learned not to get too close to his men. Because if you did and you lost them, madness wasn't far behind.

He tossed the cigarette to the ground; Atlanta pawed at it. Reese crushed the scarlet glow into dust with his boot and led the horse to the stable.

A short while later, he entered the rear door of the hotel. Clinking glass and the rumble of male voices drew him toward the remnants of the hotel's dining room. He'd planned to go in and discuss the job, but when he heard his name, he hesitated just long enough to make entering at that moment impossible.

"I say Reese is his last name," Jed insisted.

"And I say it's his first." That was Cash.

"So noted,
hombres.
We have gone over his name countless times. Right now we are discussing, once again, what he was before he became a
capitan."

The five kept up a running wager on Reese's name and previous occupation. It was a harmless bit of fun and sometimes got downright amusing. Like now.

"He was a damn Georgia tobacco planter with a big house and a hundred servants. That's why he calls his horse Atlanta. He's still pissed at Sherman for burning the place down, and he doesn't want to forget to kill the bastard general the next time he sees him."

Not quite,
Reese thought with a smirk for Jed's ingenuity.

"He had a horse farm where he raised the finest animals south of the Mason-Dixon," Cash said. "That's why he babies that horse of his enough to make me sick."

"I believe he was a preacher-man," Rico said. "Where else would he have gotten all those black clothes?"

"Nate's the preacher, Kid. Haven't you been listening to him when he's in his cups?" Cash asked.

"How could I not, since he always is? But just because Nate was a preacher does not mean
el capitan
could not be one too."

"Have you ever heard him mention God?" Jed pointed out.

"What does God have to do with it?"

As usual, Sullivan stayed silent until he had something worthwhile to say. "Could be he was a teacher."

Everyone started laughing.

"Can you see Reese wiping snotty noses?" Jed managed between guffaws.

"Yeah," Sullivan said. "I've seen him wipe up after each and every one of us."

The laughing stopped. Reese made a movement toward the door, planning to put an end to any further speculation, but Rico's next words made him freeze. "He certainly likes the teacher lady of Rock Creek."

"Never seen him look twice at a female before today," Cash muttered. "I always liked that about the man."

"Perhaps his being a preacher is why he looks at the teacher."

"Whadya mean?"

"Wouldn't you say she's a Virgin Mary?"

"That's enough." Reese stepped into the room. All eyes turned to him. "We've got more important things to talk about than my past."

"If you'd tell us the truth, then we could solve the mystery,
Capitan."

"Go to hell, Rico."

"But of course. I'm sure you'll be waiting there for us all."

Reese narrowed his eyes and took a step toward the slick-mouthed kid, but Sullivan stepped between them. "Forget it, Reese. He likes to push till we snap. It's his favorite game."

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here,
amigo."

Sullivan gave Rico a shove with his shoulder. "Then quit acting like you're sixteen and rebelling against your daddy."

"When I was sixteen, I was already at war."

"Join the club, Kid."

"But I thought I had." Rico went to sit with the others at the table, where they shared a dusty bottle. As he sipped his whiskey, Rico's dark gaze stayed on Reese. "Isn't that what we are? The six of us? A club of misfits led by
el capitan?"

"One of these days you're going to push me too far, and then I'll tan your hide," Reese said.

Rico pulled his knife from the scabbard at his waist and turned the huge blade over and over in one hand with nimble fingers. Sometimes Reese cursed Jim Bowie for inventing such a weapon, but Rico could do amazing things with his knife—with any knife, for that matter. However, he couldn't shoot for shit.

"Tan my hide? That is something I would like to see you try."

"Keep it up and you will."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, must you always squabble?"

Nate stood in the doorway, appearing almost sober but decidedly rumpled. The dark stubble on his chin was only marginally shorter than the stubble on his head. Nate liked to shave his head whenever his hands were steady enough. He said the less need for a comb and soap, the better, and Reese, who had cleaned him up enough times, had to agree.

"Wasn't it St. Paul who said, 'A man's friend is his castle. Do not tear him down brick by brick.' "

"I don't recall that section in the Bible. You're certain you were a preacher?" Sullivan moved to intercept the bottle before Nate could get his hands on it.

Nate shrugged and pulled a flask from his pocket. "As certain as you are that your daddy was a Comanche."

Sullivan's eyes narrowed, and it was Reese's turn to step between two men. "Boys, do you think we could quit picking at one another long enough to save this little town?"

"The quicker the better," Jed put in. "They don't seem too happy to see us."

"If you didn't like it here, then why did you tell Miss McKendrick where to find me?"

Jed shrugged. "She asked for help. I couldn't tell a face like that 'no' any more than you could, obviously. And she does have a way about her."

"What kind of way?"

"A bullheaded kind of way. Once she's got an idea in her head, she ain't going to give it up. I figured better us than anyone else."

"And when did you become an expert on women?"

"Not all women, just women like that. I've got a sister exactly like her back home in Georgia."

Reese contemplated Jed. "You've never mentioned a sister before."

"You never asked."

"And I didn't ask now."

Cash downed the last of his drink and smacked the glass on the table. "Could we just kill us a few banditos and get the hell out of town?"

"Here, here." Nate sipped his flask.

Jed seemed somewhat embarrassed to have brought up a sister no one seemed to know about He went to stand on the other side of the room, and Reese let the subject drop. The more he knew about Miss Rourke, the worse he'd feel if Jed wound up dead. So Reese poured himself a drink and outlined his plans for Rock Creek. The bickering stopped, as it always did, once they got into the spirit of their task. When they were bored, they argued, just like brothers. And like brothers, if one was threatened, the others stood right behind him.

The single thing the six did best was fight—together. Once upon a time it had been all they had.

* * *

Before the sun rose, Mary rolled from her bed. School started early in Rock Creek so that the children could be released just as early and help with the family businesses. Though there were ranches about the town, those folks taught their own children or brought in a tutor to do so. Rock Creek was a commerce center—or it had been until El Diablo rerouted the stage line.

Scrubbing her face rosy with cool water and a cloth, Mary wondered when Reese would come to the school. This morning, while she taught spelling? Or perhaps this afternoon, when it was time for arithmetic?

Glancing in the mirror to braid her hair, Mary paused. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes more blue than gray, and with her hair curling wildly about her face, she barely recognized herself. Was this the woman Reese saw when he looked at her?

No. He saw Miss McKendrick—of the stiff spine, straight hair, and pale, thin face. That's who she was, not this stranger in the mirror.

But if that were so, then why did he stare at her, more often than not, as if he wanted to devour her whole? And why had she dreamed all night long of his hands on her body and his mouth against hers?

She tossed the cloth into the basin with a curse that would have earned her a good ear boxing as a child. Old maid, she was, and old maid she'd stay. Even if, by some miracle, Reese wanted to kiss her, she wouldn't let him.

Rock Creek was her home—the one she'd always hoped to have. If she wasn't going to let El Diablo run her off, she certainly wasn't going to allow herself to be dismissed for something as simple as a kiss from a borderline outlaw. No matter how sinful he looked, no matter how delicious he might taste.

Nevertheless, Mary dressed in her favorite green gown, which matched Reese's eyes and made her own shine bright blue. The shade also made her hair appear more blond than brown, and the cut nipped her waist to the span of a man's hands. Silly vanity, she told herself, but excused it with her need to control everything she could when faced with a man she knew she could not.

The children behaved horridly all day. Mary wasn't sure if that was because of their excitement over the men who had come to town or their teacher's distraction with one of those men. Her gaze flicked to the door at every shift of the weathered boards that comprised the schoolhouse. From her window she had a clear view of Main Street, and she saw each of the hired guns pass by several times—except for Reese.

Where was he?

She finally forgot about him during a particularly harrowing moment with two of the older boys. Jackson and Franklin Sutton, twin terrors of eight, informed her that arithmetic was for anyone but them.

"Boys, what will you do when you take over your father's store? How will you know what to charge your customers if you don't know how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide?"

"We aren't taking over Papa's store," Jack informed her with all the arrogance of eight going on thirty. "He says there won't be a store to take over soon enough. Even with you hiring those bad men, Rock Creek is done for."

"Bad men?" Mary frowned. "They aren't bad men. They've come to help us."

"Papa says they've come to rob us, most like." Frank took up the tale. "And he says it's all your fault for bringing them here. You're no better than a harlot, going off on your own and paying them to come to town. He says you're asking for it.
What
are you asking for, Miss McKendrick?"