To Win Her Heart (28 page)

“Would you like a piece of cake?”

Levi peered down at her, concern lining his face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course. I’m fine.” She tugged on her sleeve as if it could conceal the evidence of the sheriff’s touch and reached for a clean plate. “You should try some of Chloe’s lemon pound cake. It’s delicious.”

Levi stroked her arm, his caress a soothing balm after the sheriff’s manhandling. “Eden, look at me.”

She did, and all pretense fell away.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Eden sighed. What could she say? That the stubborn fool kept insisting he was going to marry her? Such a confession would only increase the already simmering animosity between the two men. “He just became a tad highhanded with me when I tried to hurry him along. When I made it clear I didn’t care to listen to the nonsense he was spouting, though, he got the hint and left. The fellow’s dense, you know,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It takes longer for him to catch on to things than most.”

Levi grinned, but his gaze left hers to seek out the sheriff. When he finally turned his attention back to her, his eyes were glowing with purpose. “Maybe I’ll have a piece of that cake after all.”

He dug a penny from his pocket, and Eden cut him a wide slice of Chloe’s lemon cake. She knew he was only buying a piece to stay close to her until the auction started, but she didn’t mind. She liked having him close.

The sheriff posed no real threat to her. She was sure of it. But his intent toward Levi was another matter. Pratt wanted his rival gone and wasn’t above using questionable methods to achieve his goal. Eden frowned. Perhaps she ought to be more concerned about that surprise of his.

It had been nearly a week since the auction, and now that Calvin Spencer was no longer around to scrutinize his every move, Levi couldn’t wait to declare his feelings, and his intentions, to Eden. But before he could do that, he had to finish her gift.

So he’d arrived at the smithy by dawn every morning to labor over the remainder of the lettering and floral detailing before tackling his normal workload. He finished off each evening the same way. He hadn’t shaved for five days and barely managed to wash out his shirt each night before crashing unconscious upon his bed. Yet as he surveyed the finished product, a new energy surged through him.

“ ’Tis a fine gift, Levi. Your lady will nae be able to help herself from fallin’ into your arms when ye show it to her.” Duncan waggled his brows from his bench seat just inside the newly installed arch.

Harvey Sims lifted his elbow from the handle of the shovel he’d been resting on. “If she does, you better set her right back up on her feet where she belongs or I’ll come after you with this spade. Don’t think I won’t.” He yanked the tool from the ground and waved the steel end at Levi in a manner that would have been threatening had the man not been fighting a losing battle with his grin.

Levi held up his hands and laughed. “Point taken.” Harvey lowered the spade, and Levi strode over to him and gripped his shoulder in a companionable fashion. “Thank you for helping me today.” He twisted his head to include the Scotsman in his gaze. “You, too, Duncan.”

“Ach, Levi. The only duty I be fit for is running me mouth.” Duncan cradled his ribcage with one arm as he pushed himself upright from the bench with his other. “The two o’ ye did all the work.”

“But you provided the . . . know-how.”

Duncan shrugged, then winced. “Well,” he said as he hobbled under the arch, glancing up at the ironwork sign suspended between two limestone pillars, “me da always said that knowledge unshared dies. Seemed only fittin’ to pass on to you some of what he passed on to me. Keeps that part o’ him alive.”

“I’m grateful for it.”

Not wanting to bruise the young man’s ego, Levi didn’t offer to help him back to the wagon, but he did position himself at Duncan’s side should his assistance suddenly be required. A tortoise could’ve outrun them, but Levi was in no hurry.

Metal thumped against wood as Harvey tossed the tools into the wagon bed next to the pieces of leftover stone. Birds twittered from the branches of the sister oaks, and Levi’s heart sang along as he thought about bringing Eden out there.

Once Duncan was settled on the wagon seat and Harvey took up the reins, Levi thanked his friends a final time and waved them off. The sorrel gelding Claude had loaned him raised its head and stamped the ground with a hoof, obviously expecting to accompany the wagon team back to town, but Levi made no move to fetch him. Instead, he turned to survey Eden’s field one last time, trying to see it through her eyes.

The two stone columns stood eight feet tall, centered between the sister oaks that formed a natural entrance to the wildflower field. The whitish-gray stone formed a vivid contrast to the black wrought-iron arch stretching between them, both in color and decoration. Where the stone was flat and square, the ironwork was scrolled and ornamental. Blooming rose branches wove in and out of the frame, serving as a backdrop for the lettering—
Eden’s Garden
.

And what a garden it was. Bluebonnets were just beginning to bloom—not yet in their full glory, but the hints of color splashed across the field promised a feast for the soul, one that Levi was eager to share with the only woman he wanted playing Eve to his Adam. To maximize the effect of the spring flowers, he should probably wait a week or two to bring Eden out, but he couldn’t imagine waiting that long. No, he’d be asking her to take a drive with him tomorrow.

“Won’t you tell me where we’re going?” Eden nestled closer to Levi on the carriage seat, anticipation fluttering in her stomach.

Levi grinned at her. “Nope.”

She tried to pout like the society girls she remembered from school in hopes of prompting a more informative answer, but Levi’s grin only grew wider as he shook his head. Unable to hold the petulant expression in place, Eden bailed out of the attempt with a giggle and leaned into his side. If she couldn’t get any information out of him, at least she could enjoy being alone with him.

“All right.” She sighed, rubbing her cheek against the edge of his shoulder like a kitten searching for affection. “I’ll be patient.”

“Keep that up,” he said, his voice a little gravelly, “and I might have to pull off the road to ki . . . to get even. Then you’d have to wait even longer.”

Eden tipped her chin back to meet his gaze. The heat emanating from his storm-gray eyes left little doubt in her mind as to what form his retribution would take, and her lips tingled in response. Perhaps a slight delay wouldn’t be so bad. Levi’s gaze dipped from her eyes to her mouth. She leaned toward him, her eyelids growing strangely heavy. A sound that was half-growl, half-moan rumbled in Levi’s throat.

Yes. A brief stop might be exactly what she needed.

Clearing his throat, Levi tore his gaze from hers and once again stared at the road.

Then again . . . maybe not.

Eden sighed at the opportunity lost, but consoled herself with the fact that something special lay ahead. Despite the fact that she had offered him the use of her buggy for their drive, Levi had shown up outside her home with a rig rented from the livery. He wore his Sunday coat and had even found time to have his hair trimmed since she’d seen him the day before.

The man was definitely up to something, and Eden prayed that
something
involved a particular question.

Levi turned the team off the schoolhouse road and onto the thin path she would take when she wanted to visit her field. Lone Oak Hill rose in the distance, and Eden pressed her lips together to keep her excitement from bubbling out in juvenile giggles.

Her field.
Could there be a more perfect place for a private stroll, a stolen kiss, and—dare she voice the thought even to herself—a proposal?

Eden wanted to snatch the reins from Levi and urge the horses into a trot, but she didn’t want her blacksmith to know that she had guessed their destination, so she eased back against the cushioned seat instead and scanned the passing landscape for new flowers. She’d spotted yellow mustard flowers and some tiny white fleabane, and was squinting into the distance to determine if the red dots at the base of a rock several yards to her right were Indian paintbrush or Drummond’s phlox when the sound of hurried hoofbeats pounding up behind them rendered the question moot.

Craning her neck, Eden spotted a familiar brown quarter horse with white stockings gaining on the carriage, its rider sporting a black hat and a tin star. She groaned. Could the man not simply let her be? She’d told him flat out that she’d not marry him, so why must he continue pestering her? And today of all days.

Sheriff Pratt drew abreast of the buggy on her side and slowed his mount to match pace with the carriage horses. He winked at her, and she bristled. She inched closer to Levi, hoping Conrad Pratt wouldn’t be too dense to recognize the significance of the action. But when he shook his head at her as if she were a child who didn’t know her own mind, she decided his arrogance must have made him too thickheaded to process such simple concepts.

“Hold up there, Grant. I need to talk to you.”

“Now ain’t a good time.” Levi made no move to slow the team. “I’ll come find you in town later.”

“I’m not askin’. I’m tellin’. Pull up.” All amiability vanished from the sheriff’s voice.

Eden’s chest tightened. She laid a hand on Levi’s arm. “Maybe we should stop and hear him out. Then we can be back on our way.”

“I’d listen to the lady, Grant.”

A muscle ticked in Levi’s jaw, but his gaze never strayed from Eden’s. Tension radiated down his arm, making it rock hard beneath her fingers. She hated giving in to the sheriff’s bullying as much as he did, but what choice did they have?

With a sigh, Levi faced forward and tugged on the reins. “Whoa there.”

The sheriff halted his mount, as well, and flashed an oily smile. “Now, I need you to turn the rig around and follow me. I’ve got something waiting for you up by the schoolhouse.”

The surprise.

The skin on Eden’s arm prickled. “We have other plans, Conrad. You understand, don’t you?” She simpered at him in the same placating manner she’d witnessed her mother use with great success whenever a recalcitrant guest at one of her parties needed soothing. She even called him by his given name in an effort to melt his resistance. But judging by the chips of ice in his cool blue eyes, the thaw was far from coming.

“You don’t understand, my dear,” he explained in the condescending tone she despised. “The council members have already gathered, as have many other key citizens. All we need now is our two guests of honor—you and Mr. Grant, here.”

Dread swelled inside Eden as her mind scrambled for some way to extricate Levi from a situation that smelled as strongly of trouble as a skunk smelled of stink. “If it was so important that we attend your little gathering,” she said, “you should have informed us of your plans ahead of time. It’s a little late to be issuing invitations.”

“Well, I’m issuing one now.” He reached to his hip and pulled his gun free of its holster. He pointed the barrel—not at her, but directly at Levi. “I recommend you quit your squawkin’ and accept before things get ugly.”

Levi’s hands fisted around the reins in his palms. Pugilism had always been a sport for him, never personal. But right now, he itched to smash his fist into Pratt’s face for the sheer pleasure of feeling the man’s nose break under his knuckles.

“Put . . . the gun . . . away.”

Pratt pointed the barrel of his pistol upward and used the muzzle to tip the brim of his hat back on his forehead. “Not until you agree to follow me up to the schoolyard.” He crossed his wrists over his saddle horn, casually re-aiming the weapon at Levi.

Only it wasn’t a clear shot. Eden sat between them. And wedged as he was into the carriage seat, Levi had no way of shielding her. The sheriff might have faith in his ability to hit the correct target, but Levi wouldn’t take that risk.

His jaw clenching so tightly his teeth hurt, Levi managed a stilted nod. “Lead the way, Pratt.”

The sheriff holstered his weapon and adjusted his hat. “Wise choice.”

Pratt circled the buggy, and Levi clicked to his team, encouraging them to follow the lawman’s horse. Once the rig was straightened out and the sheriff had pulled a short distance ahead, Levi turned to Eden.

“When we get there, keep out of the way. Whatever trouble he cooked up, I’ll handle it. You hear me?”

She nodded, but her eyes held a glazed look that worried him.

“Eden?”

“I can’t believe he drew his gun on us.” The buggy hit a rut in the road, and the jarring thud seemed to shake her out of her daze. She blinked a couple of times, then focused more clearly on his face. “We’re unarmed, Levi. Why would he draw his weapon?”

“To get what he wants.” And looking at Eden, Levi knew exactly what the sheriff wanted. But he wasn’t about to relinquish his claim. Not for anything.

As they closed in on the schoolyard, some of the tension coiling within Levi unwound. A crowd awaited them, just as Pratt had said. Levi recognized Norman Draper and several other councilmen. Chester Fowler from the dry goods store was there, too, and had even brought his wife. Surely, Eden would be safe in their company. Sheriff Pratt wouldn’t dare pull his weapon in front of Spencer’s elite.

However, as he brought the carriage to a halt and handed Eden down, he scanned the rest of the crowd. They were a more scraggly bunch—out-of-work cowhands, rowdy teen boys likely playing hooky from farm chores, and even a few fellows he thought he remembered from the quarry—men who’d look more at home in the Hang Dog than a schoolyard. As if in confirmation of his assessment, he spotted a couple women from the saloon mingling with the rough set.

Chloe’s mother, Violet, clung to Roy’s arm. When the barkeep noticed Levi’s attention, he bent his mouth to her ear and her head came around immediately. The look in her eyes shouted a warning that went straight to Levi’s gut.

“Go wait by Hattie.” He put his hand in the small of Eden’s back and pushed her toward the council members.

“What’s happening?”

He said nothing, his eyes locked on Pratt, who was strutting toward the two groups as if he were an actor taking the stage.

Levi took his eyes off the sheriff long enough to stare Eden down. “Go. Now.”

She bit her lip, indecision furrowing her brow.

“Pleasthe,” he whispered, the word hissing through his teeth.

A dewy mist shimmered over her mossy eyes a second before she spun away and scurried over to Hattie.

Feeling more in control with Eden out of harm’s way, Levi braced his legs apart and waited for the ax to fall.

Having reached center stage, Pratt raised his hand to silence the crowd. “Gentlemen . . . and ladies,” he added, dipping his chin in Eden’s direction, “you are well aware that I have sworn to protect our fair town from criminals and those of unsavory influence.”

He knows.

Levi steeled himself for what was to come. He could feel Eden’s eyes on him, but he forced himself not to look. He wouldn’t drag her down with him.

“And I honor that oath even when it means turning against one of our own.” The sheriff pivoted, gesturing to Levi. “The man you see before you would have you believe that he is a mild-mannered, church-going man. An honest laborer. A hero. But in truth, he’s a brawler, a man with no conscience, one who wouldn’t hesitate to end a man’s life with his fists if there was money to be had.

“You know him as Levi Grant, the blacksmith. But the prizefighting world knows him as the
Anvil
.”

Murmurs worked their way through the crowd.

He used to hunger for those sounds of excitement, for the satisfaction that came from boys looking at him in awe, and men eying him with respect or even envy. Today he wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

Suddenly a woman’s shrill gasp cut through the low hum. “Chester! I want that man out of our town. It’s not safe to have that kind of brute around our children.”

“Hattie, you don’t understand.” Eden’s voice. “The sheriff is twisting things around.”

“Be quiet, child,” the older woman snapped. “You’re not exactly the best judge of a man’s character, now, are you?”

The sly insinuation was too much for Levi. He turned and glared at Hattie Fowler until she cringed and latched on to her husband’s arm.

“See, Chester!” she screeched. “He’s a beast. Do something!”

Norman Draper, head of the council, stepped forward. “Is it true, Grant? Are you this Anvil character?”

Levi stood straight, unflinching, as he met the banker’s eye. “Not anymore.”

“But you were.”

He nodded.

“The Anvil. I hearda him.” The awe in the young cowhand’s voice made Levi sick to his stomach. “My uncle saw him fight. Said he’d pummel a feller till he was a bloody mess and then drop ’im with a single punch. Stopped fightin’ a couple years back, though. Kilt a feller, or something, I think.”

Levi closed his eyes against the old shame for a moment, then focused on the clouds above Draper’s head.

“A killer?” Hattie squawked.

“I’m afraid so.” The sheriff took control of his little play once again. “Killed a man with his bare hands. Did two years in Huntsville for his crime.”

“It was an accident!” Eden lunged out of the group and advanced on Pratt, obliterating Levi’s hard-won stoicism. He jumped to intercept her, not wanting her anywhere near the sheriff. But before he could reach her, Pratt’s buddy, Salazar, drew his weapon.

“Back off, Grant. Your time will come.” The Hang Dog owner twitched his gun to the side to get Levi to step away from the sheriff, then aimed it back at his chest.

Eden, however, made no move to back off. She threw herself directly into Pratt’s path, and Levi was helpless to do anything but watch.

“Stop this, Conrad. Please. Levi
is
a good man. The fighting is just part of his past. He’s changed.”

“You knew?” The sheriff’s eyes widened for a brief moment, then narrowed into slits. “Why, you little hypocrite.” He towered over her.

Levi surged toward them, intent on protecting Eden. Until Salazar shouldered him in the chest and dug the barrel of his gun into his abdomen.

“Let’s give them a minute, shall we?”

Levi scowled at the saloon owner but yielded. As he stepped back, he told himself that Pratt wouldn’t hurt Eden, not with council members looking on. But the reassurance did little to calm the fever building inside him.

Sheriff Pratt grabbed Eden’s arm and hauled her back toward the buggy. “All this time you kept telling me you could never be with a man who made his living with a gun, and now you throw yourself at a man who passes the time by pummeling people? He killed a man, Eden!”

“He’s paid for his crime. Leave him be.”

The sheriff stared at her long and hard, then shoved her aside and addressed the crowd. “Miss Spencer thinks I should leave the poor blacksmith alone. Says he’s paid for his crime. But I stay he still owes a debt. A debt to this town for his deception, but more importantly, a debt to
that
man.” He pointed behind the roughs from the saloon, to someone lurking in the shadow of the schoolhouse.

“The man who lost a brother at the Anvil’s hands.”