Sullivan (13 page)

"You know damn well why."

She kept a stiff back to him, as she resumed stirring her stew, more vigorously this time. "I don't suppose there's anything I can say or do to make you change your mind."

"No," he said, even though he knew it was a lie. If she asked him to stay, how could he refuse her? If he was strong enough to tell her no, he wouldn't still be here.

"I just... can't...", she said haltingly. "It's just that..." In frustration, she banged her long-handled wooden spoon on the edge of the tall pot. "If you come back here bleeding, cut, and swollen like you were when I first saw you, I think I'll cry like a baby." She sounded dangerously close to tears already. "I hate to cry," she said angrily. "It gives me a headache, and when it's over I always feel worse instead of better."

"I can take care of myself," he said, touched that she would cry for him, amused that she was worried he couldn't handle himself. "I'll be careful this time."

She spun around and wagged the spoon in his direction. A little drop of stew flex through the air and landed on the floor between them. "You'd better be," she said, and then she smiled wanly. "Look at me. I'm being silly. I know you can take care of yourself. I guess I just have a tendency to worry excessively about the people I care for. Goodness knows I worry about Jedidiah all the time."

"I'm not your brother," Sullivan said lowly.

"I know," Eden whispered. "I just want you to come back unhurt. Is that too much to ask?"

Grady had it right. Eden Rourke was an angel. Good and beautiful and innocent. He had no business touching her, kissing her, pushing them both to the edge of something best left unexplored. He knew in that moment what he had to do. For her. For himself. "I'm not coming back."

Her eyes widened and her cheeks paled. "What do you mean you're not coming back?"

"What I said doesn't need any explanation. I'm not coming back to Rock Creek, not until you're gone."

Her fingers gripped the spoon tightly, and for a moment he thought she was going to rush forward and hit him with it. "Have I done something wrong? Have I made you angry?"

Sullivan shook his head. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just can't do this anymore. If Cash hadn't interrupted us this morning we'd still be in the tub."

She lowered her eyes. "I suppose that's true."

"It's best if I leave. I should've done it this morning, but when you kissed me I forgot all the reasons why I can't stay."

She lifted her eyes. "If I kiss you again, will you change your mind again?"

"Probably," he admitted with a small grin. "So you'd better keep your distance."

She returned to her stew. "I know you're right," she said softly, "but I still don't want you to go."

While she had her back to him, Sullivan left the kitchen. Eden Rourke was a weakness he couldn't afford, an unexpected and unwanted complication in an otherwise simple life. He needed to walk away, while he still could.

***

"We could get married," Eden said softly. When she got no response, she looked over her shoulder to see that Sin was gone.

"Just as well," she said to herself as she looked down into the stew. "After all, I've barely known you a week."

A week was plenty long enough, apparently, for her to fall madly in love. It was wonderful; it was terrible; she didn't know what to do.

"Besides," she muttered, "I can't ask you.
You
have to ask
me
. That's the way it's done."

And that in itself was a problem, since Sin had shown no desire to have a wife and family. In fact, he seemed to hold those hallowed institutions in very low regard. Perhaps with time she could change his mind, but if he left tomorrow she'd never have the chance.

Romantic love wasn't exactly what she'd expected. She'd always imagined that when she fell in love her feelings would be similar to what she felt for Jedidiah and her late stepfather. She loved those men dearly, with a protective affection that warmed her heart and soul.

But what she felt for Sin went so much deeper it scared her. It cut to the heart like a sweet, sharp knife. It filled her, in a way that made her sure she must've been somehow empty inside before she met him. Love was so much more complicated than she'd ever suspected.

Apparently Sin didn't share her feelings. If he did, he certainly wouldn't talk so calmly about leaving her behind. She could never make herself leave him, not if she thought for a moment that he wanted her to stay.

Come tomorrow, she was going to lose him. A single tear fell into the stew.

Chapter 8

Sullivan pushed through the bat-wing doors of Rock Creek's sole saloon, looking for a few minutes of peace and quiet. The place wasn't quiet, not even at this time of the afternoon. At the moment he felt like he'd never know peace again.

Cash gave him a condemning, sarcastic grin. "Well, well, if it isn't the horny man with a death wish."

Sullivan saw no reason to argue. "I'm leaving in the morning," he said, trying to convince himself as much as Cash. Could he really do it? Ride away and not look back? Hell, he had no choice.

"I'll believe it when I see you go," Cash drawled, lighting a cigar and leaning back in his chair. "Tell me where you'll be, and I'll wire you when Miss Rourke leaves town and it's safe for your return."

Sullivan sat at Cash's table, ignoring the gnawing in his gut. He didn't like the idea of never returning to Rock Creek. He had friends here, and the people pretty much accepted him for who he was. But...

"She might not leave," he said. "She intends to settle here, and I don't think Eden changes her mind often or easily."

The change that came over Cash was so subtle, any other man might've missed it. His eyes darkened. The muscles in his neck tensed. The fingers of his free hand flexed, perhaps unconsciously, as if he were preparing to draw his six-shooter. "It isn't right that you leave Rock Creek
permanently
because of her," he said lowly. He narrowed his eyes and took a long drag on his cigar, obviously thinking hard. "She won't stay," he said with a long puff of smoke. "This place is too rough for her kind, too hard."

"She's tougher than she looks."

"Not tough enough," Cash murmured.

Sullivan wondered if he could leave Eden, knowing that Daniel Cash would do his best to make sure she wouldn't stay. What would he do? Hell, what
wouldn't
he do?

Nate wandered in, stopped a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light, and then headed for the table. He wasn't falling-down drunk yet, but he would be before the day was over. He sat down beside Sullivan and ordered a bottle.

When there was a battle to be fought and won they were different men, all three of them. Without a cause they were lost—Cash in his cards and women, Nate in his whiskey. And Sullivan... Hell, he went looking for fights that weren't his, hiring out his gun and his talent for scouting because he didn't know how to do anything else. And all the while he stayed as distant as possible from the people he worked for and with. Eden was right when she said he liked being alone. He didn't want anyone to depend on him for anything other than his gun. He could almost wish for war again.

"Sullivan here's headed out of town in the morning," Cash said, nodding to Nate.

Nate settled tired eyes on Sullivan. "You just got back."

Cash, cigar in hand, leaned slightly over the table. "He has the poor sense to lust after Jed's sister. Of all the women in Texas, why her?"

"Leave it alone, Cash," Sullivan said softly.

"I will not leave it alone," he responded crisply. "It distresses me to no end to see you dangling in the wind over a
woman.
Don't you think she knows exactly what she's doing to you? She knows damn well, and she's loving every minute of it, let me tell you."

"Jed's sister?" Nate said belatedly.

"The blond virgin who's been hanging around the hotel the last couple of days," Cash snapped.

The confusion fled from Nate's face. "Oh, her. She's attractive. Makes good soup, too. Talks too much, though. Smiles all the time. Jed's sister?"

Cash shook his head in dismay. "Yes, Jed's baby sister. And Sullivan has been trifling with her."

Nate lifted not-quite-yet-drunk eyes to Sullivan. "That's not terribly smart."

"Even a man who's been pickled for the better part of the past eight years knows better than to..." Cash began.

Sullivan rose. He wasn't going to find peace and quiet here, not today.

"Ethel!" Cash shouted, raising his hand in the air. The girl made her way quickly to the table, a smile on her face.

"Afternoon, sugar," she said, laying a hand on Cash's shoulder. "What can I do for you?"

Cash grinned, his eyes on Sullivan. "Let's go upstairs and clean the tub, darlin'." He gave the suggestion a decidedly lewd flair.

"Whatever you say," Ethel responded.

The bat-wing doors swung open, and Sullivan turned his head to see Teddy and Millie standing there, holding hands and setting wide eyes on him.

"Papa," Millie said, her voice high with excitement, "Mama says come quick." With that she turned and ran.

Cash shook his head in dismay. "Jesus, Papa, you allow the younguns in this godforsaken place? What kind of a daddy are you?"

Nate lifted his eyes to Sullivan and grimaced. "Okay, now I'm really confused. I think I need a drink."

Sullivan didn't respond to either of them as he headed for the door.

* * *

She wouldn't cry. She absolutely, positively
would not
cry. A single tear trailed down Eden's cheek as she stared at the man on the bed. The afternoon sun streaked through the window and illuminated his pale face. His chest rose and fell as he took shallow breaths. His skin looked like brittle, white, wrinkled paper.

"What's wrong?"

She lifted her head, so glad to see Sin standing in the open doorway her heart skipped a beat. "It's Mr. McClure," she whispered. "He's doing worse this afternoon, much worse, and I don't know what to do."

He shooed the children away, directing them to their room, and stepped inside to stand beside her and look down at the old man. "There's nothing you can do."

Without thinking, she reached out and took Sin's hand, holding on tight. "I thought I could make him better," she whispered, "with tea and soup and clean sheets. I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not," Sin said softly.

Rico, passing in the hallway, did a double take and then stepped into the room. "What is this?"

Mr. McClure coughed weakly and opened his eyes. "I'm dying, that's what this is."

"Don't say that," Eden insisted. "You're just having a bad day, that's all. You'll feel better tomorrow, I'm sure of it."

Rico stood at the foot of the bed and looked down. "Is there anything I can get for you,
viejo
?" he asked, a tinge of true kindness in his voice.

Mr. McClure nodded. "You can get me the box that's under the bed."

Rico dropped down and reached beneath the bed, coming up with a small wooden box, no more than a foot long and half again as wide and high. He offered it to Mr. McClure. "This is what you are looking for?"

McClure waved a weak hand. "Open it for me."

Rico did as he was asked, and then he placed the open box on the bed beside the ill old man.

"Miss Rourke," Mr. McClure said, and then he met her eyes and she knew that he was telling the truth; he was dying. "Can I call you Eden?"

"Of course you can," she whispered.

"Such a pretty name," he said. "The Garden of Eden. Paradise. A fitting name for the woman who made my last days good ones."

Sin squeezed her hand, perhaps knowing that she needed comfort at that moment.

"It has been my great pleasure to know you, Mr. McClure."

"Grady," he said with a weak smile. "Call me Grady."

She tried to return his smile, but feared it was as weak and watery as his own. "Of course, Grady."

He reached into the box and came up with a sloppily folded piece of paper. "I want you to have this," he said, offering it to her.

"I don't need..."

"Take it," he demanded. "You've made my last days on this earth the best ones I can remember in a very long time. You fed me good food, and made me mind my manners, and smiled at me like the angel you are."

Sin released her hand, and she took the paper Grady offered, unfolding it carefully to reveal that he had given her the deed to the hotel.

"This hotel and everything in it is yours, Eden," Grady said. "Everything..."

"Oh, I can't possibly..."

Sin rested his hand on her shoulder as the old man insisted, again, that she take what he offered.

"Raise those kiddies here, fix up the place, feed these boys well," Grady whispered, unable to speak any louder. "Make this hotel a home. Please."

She could not refuse him, not now, not like this. "It would be my honor, Grady."

"I'll rest better in heaven if I know you're here." With that, he closed his eyes and resumed his uneven breathing.

She looked at the paper in her hands, the deed. A hotel! She'd planned to open some kind of business to support herself, but as she had enough cash from the sale of her stepfather's business and home to support herself for a while, she hadn't planned to make those arrangements any time soon.