Reese (8 page)

"Where are you going?" She hurried after him.

"To my room."

"But... but... I want to know what happened."

"I don't care what you want. I want to go to bed."

"Wait!"

He kept on walking. She hiked her skirts and ran past him, planting herself in his path. He moved to the right. So did she. He moved to the left She stepped that way too.

"Move, Miss McKendrick, or I'll make you."

She lifted her chin. "Make me."

He narrowed his gaze then threw up his hands. "What is the matter with you? What kind of woman comes to Dallas alone, searches out a man like me, then welcomes him and his down-and-dirty companions into town like royalty."

"A woman like me. And your friends aren't that dirty."

He made a noise that was part choke, part cough, part laugh, but when he got himself under control, he did not seem amused. "Why would a woman like you let a man like me kiss her?"

"Let? Let?" Her voice rose. "I didn't let; you just did."

"So why aren't you crying and shrieking?"

She stared down her nose at him, which was quite a trick, since he was tall enough to give her a crick in the neck, hovering over her as he was. "I haven't cried since 1862, and I
never
shriek."

"You did a mighty fine job of it when Rico grabbed you."

"That was a scream." Mary couldn't help it; she grinned. "I did an excellent job, didn't I?"

"What are you so proud of?"

"I wasn't sure if I'd be able to scream if I ever really needed to. Now I know."

He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it as if an ache pulsed there. "Miss McKendrick, you need a keeper. Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any parents."

Reese dropped his hand. "Everyone has parents. Even me."

"I'm sure I had some. But either they, or someone else, dropped me on the doorstep of St. Peter's in Richmond. The sisters raised me."

His eyes opened wide. "You're a nun?"

"Of course not. I was merely raised by them."

"Well, why aren't you?"

"Why aren't I what?"

"A nun. You'd be safer in a convent. What is a woman like you doing way out here?"

"If you continue to say 'a woman like you' in that tone, I'll have to hurt you."

She ignored his derisive snort. Mary was beginning to learn that talking big worked quite well with rough, armed men—or at least with this one. She no longer felt so afraid, and that couldn't be bad.

Mary threw a glance over her shoulder. "Perhaps I should make sure everything is in order at the hotel. I'll heat a meal, then you can tell me what happened with El Diablo while you eat." She took a step forward. Reese grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"I don't want you making pets of my men. They aren't as tame as me."

"Whatever gave you the idea you were tame?"

His lips tightened. "I mean it. When we do a job, we do the job; we get paid; we leave. We don't make nice with the populace. We aren't fit for decent company and haven't been for quite a while."

She removed her arm from his hand, still feeling the imprint of warm fingers along her skin despite the green material that separated her flesh from his. "You make it sound as if you've brought ravening wolves to Rock Creek."

He stared at her for a long moment, sorrow in his eyes. Then he reached out and gently pushed a stray curl from her cheek. She hadn't realized her hair still hung loose and wild.

"But I have," he murmured, and left her alone with the approaching night.

Chapter 5

When Reese walked into the Rock Creek Hotel, he discovered his men huddled around a single table in the kitchen, shoveling food into their mouths like the wolves he'd just characterized them as.

Perhaps he'd been a bit harsh. They weren't quite that rabid—or at least most of them weren't. Sometimes Reese wondered what trouble Cash got into when he wasn't around to keep the man from getting bored.

After filling a bowl from the pot on the stove, Reese joined the others.

"So what did Miss Teacher have to say?" Cash smirked. "Or weren't you talking?"

Reese kept eating. He didn't have to answer to anyone—one of the few joys of being the leader.

"El capitan
and the woman were just talking."

"Since you had your damn nose pressed to the glass, I guess you'd know," Jed said.

Reese raised his gaze to Rico's. "Spying?" Rico shrugged. "I catch you tailing me, Kid, and I'll kick you into the next county."

Rico narrowed his eyes and caressed the knife at his waist. But what he said was "Yes,
mi capitan."

Reese nodded; then, when the other men returned their attention to their meals, he winked at Rico. The Kid winked back, his face as solemn as a casket maker.

Rico might flirt and joke, but he was dangerous. He looked to Reese for guidance, and Reese hated that, but he also knew that if he wasn't the one, Rico might start to follow Cash around, and that would be bad.

"So what did you think about El Diablo?" Sullivan asked.

"What did you think?" Reese countered.

Everyone leaned back and peered at the half-breed scout. Sullivan always saw more than the rest of them, maybe because he shut up and looked.

"Somethin' funny's goin' on here."

"Funny how?"

"I don't know, but that old Indian lies."

Cash snorted. "Like that's a surprise. No offense."

Sullivan didn't even glance at Cash. What would be the point? Cash hated everyone and everything—except drinking, gambling, loose women, and his five friends. But there wasn't a man you'd rather have at your side if it came to a fight. That's why they all ignored whatever he said when he was in a mood, which was pretty much all of the time.

"Lying about what?" Reese pressed.

"Wish I knew."

"Me too."

Jed lit a cigar, tilted back in his chair, and blew rings at the dirty ceiling. "What are you two thinking?"

Reese nodded for Sullivan to explain.

"There's no reason for all those men to keep coming here and playing around." Sullivan shrugged. "Men like that kill and run."

Reese nodded. "They're trying to get the town to die, but without murder, rape, or too much destruction. Goes against the grain for men like them. So I think they don't want any attention coming this way."

"
Atencion
?"

"From the law or the soldiers," Reese explained.

"Isn't much law in these parts since the war," Jed observed. "They disbanded the Rangers, and since then the Comanches have done as they pleased. The soldiers' hands are full enough without coming to Rock Creek just to chase bandits to the border. The army can't go across, anyway."

"I think El Diablo knows that. But why would he want this place so badly?"

"Gold? Silver?" Rico's voice was eager. "Buried treasure?"

"Not in this two horse town," Cash muttered.

"Well, it's something," Reese said. "And I'm gonna have to find out what."

"Conveniently, the teacher lady with the voice like Virginia before she burned and breasts, no doubt, the shade of Georgia peaches is the one you'll have to ask."

"If I were you, I wouldn't be thinking about her breasts or anything else," Reese said, low and dangerous.

Cash straightened the frilly lace on his cuffs. Only Daniel Cash could wear lace and not look like a pansy. Of course, even if he did, no one would dare to say so. "But you aren't me, Reese, so I'm sure you're thinking about her pretty, little—"

Reese stood, and the chair hit the floor with a clatter that echoed loudly in the sudden silence of the room.

Cash flicked his gaze from Reese's hand on his gun to his face. Between the well-trimmed goatee and mustache, the gunman's mouth smiled, but those eyes were dead, as always.

"Mind," he finished. "I'm sure she has a brilliant and beautiful mind."

A collective breath hissed about the room. Reese lowered his hand. "You just keep
your
mind on business, Cash, and there'll be no trouble but what we make."

"There never is, my friend. There never is."

* * *

To Mary, the next day was the same as any other. And how could that be with six hired guns in town? One of whom looked like Satan's fallen and kissed like paradise redeemed.

She needed to quit thinking about that kiss. It hadn't meant anything. To use Reese's vernacular, no man like him would kiss a woman like her and mean it. Something had upset him, then she'd touched him, angered him, and he'd kissed her because...

She had no idea. Mary had no experience with men—unless you counted priests, little boys, or the fathers of her students. Reese didn't fit into any of those familiar categories.

So she needed to quit thinking about him and start concentrating on the recitations of her students. Every Tuesday, each child recited a Bible verse they'd picked to memorize. Not only did the task strengthen their minds; it soothed Reverend Clancy, who hadn't wanted a woman of the Catholic persuasion teaching the children.

Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for Mary, no one else had applied for the position. Since she came dutifully to church every Sunday, he'd quit grumbling, at least in her presence, about the Irish papist invasion of Texas. She often wondered how a man with so little tolerance had ended up in his profession—and with a daughter as open-minded as Jo.

"The Lord is my sheep herd I shall not want. He made me lie down in green passages. He led me into the stilted waters and restorated my soul."

Mary pursed her lips as Carrie Brown's mangling of the Twenty-third Psalm at last penetrated her distracted mind. "Carrie, I think you'd better study that one again for next week. Restorated is a wonderful word, but I find it nowhere in Psalm Twenty-three."

"What a dummy! Stilted isn't in there either, Miss McKendrick," Frank Sutton pointed out.

"Thank you, Frank. I'm aware of that."

Mary turned to Carrie, who appeared ready to cry. "Never mind," she said. "When I was six, I couldn't even read Psalm Twenty-three, let alone memorize it."

"Truly?"

In truth, she'd recited the psalm in question at the age of four. It was that or have the switch slapped across her palm—again. But staring into Carrie's hopeful face, Mary lied without a qualm. "Truly. You'll do fine next week."

Carrie smiled, revealing a double gap in her front teeth that was so adorable, Mary wanted to pull her close and cuddle. But she wouldn't. She was their teacher. She would never be their mother, or anyone else's, and it hurt too much to touch what she'd never have.

With a sigh, Mary turned to Frank. "Since you seem to be well acquainted with that psalm, Frank, you may recite as the rest of the class leaves for the day."

"Aw, Miss McKendrick, what did I do?"

The children filed out. Mary waited until they were gone before turning to Frank once more. "You made Carrie feel bad, and that is something we don't do in my classroom."

His lips tightened mutinously. Mary braced herself for another argument. The Sutton boys were getting to be a problem. What on earth would she do when she had bigger boys than these in her classroom? Most teachers resorted to physical violence to keep their older, rougher male charges in line. Mary just couldn't.

"Frank Sutton," she snapped before he could refuse. "Begin Psalm Twenty-three."

"Yes, Frank..." The new voice made Mary glance up; she found Reese lounging in the doorway. "I haven't heard the Twenty-third Psalm in far too long."

The words tumbled out of Frank's mouth so fast Mary could barely understand them. But as her mind caught up to the meaning, she was surprised, and pleased, to discover Frank had every word correct. Maybe he wouldn't be in the nearest jail cell by the age of fifteen, after all.

Mary smiled at Reese, but he did not return the expression. Instead, he stalked down the aisle toward Frank like a predatory cat. Even though the boy annoyed her to no end, still Mary hurried forward to place herself between Reese and her student. Reese raised his eyebrow, amused.

" 'In the house of the Lord forever,' " Frank finished. "May I go now, ma'am."

"Again," Reese ordered, his gaze on Mary.

"Huh?"

"Again and again and again, Mr. Sutton. Recite until I tell you to stop." He glanced at Frank. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. The Lord is my shepherd..."

Reese took Mary's arm and led her to the front of the room. "There's a slight problem."

"Problem? I didn't hear the church bell."

"Not that kind of problem. We went to the general store to get ammunition, and the man there wanted us to pay." When Mary continued to stare at him, confused, he continued. "To pay money. Which we do not have, Miss McKendrick. Are you with me yet?"

"Uh, yes, certainly. I'll take care of that."

"Excellent"

Frank stumbled over a word. Mary glanced at him, but he gamely continued. Reese turned his head to the side and froze before his gaze reached Frank, then, as if it were a great effort, he turned back to Mary, pointedly ignoring the child. But the way he held his shoulders—tense and tight—one might have thought he expected Frank to shoot him—or worse.