Sherri Shackelford – The Rancher's Christmas Proposal (страница 8)
“Never mind,” he said, reaching for the key. “It’s been a long day. I appreciate everything you’ve done. I had no right to ask for more.”
She yanked her hand out of his reach. “I’ll help you.”
It was too late to take back his offer, and gratitude and shame warred in his chest. She’d agreed to help him. She’d agreed because she’d seen him weak.
Tessa hesitated. “I’ll leave Cimarron Springs as soon as the reward arrives. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Earlier, a selfish part of him had hoped she might consider staying on, just until he found a suitable replacement, but she’d obviously anticipated his appeal. “I understand.”
Tessa had called him a good father before. She’d said he was doing the right thing by keeping the children with him. The truth was far less charitable. He wasn’t a fit parent for the children any more than Mrs. Lund. By refusing to face the impossibility of the situation, he’d been lying to himself rather than doing what was best for the children.
“Four o’clock,” he said, replacing his hat. He was done being weak. Once they were all back home, he’d finally make things right, even if it shattered him. He’d put himself back together before; he knew how the pieces fit. “We leave at four.”
Now that he’d committed to his decision, a cynical relief surged through his veins. The reward money made everyone’s life simpler. Without Tessa, there’d be one less person in town who’d been disappointed by him.
As long as nothing unforeseen happened, they’d never see each other again after the journey’s end. She was as good as gone. At least there was nothing left to go wrong.
* * *
“The reward money has hit a snag.” Marshal Garrett Cain spoke from his seat behind his desk.
“What kind of a snag?” Tessa demanded, covering the panic in her voice. “I was hoping to avoid a delay.”
She needed the money quickly. She’d already been in town for three days. That was long enough. Too long, really. She feared she’d run into Shane once more, and the cold shoulder he’d given her upon their arrival had made it abundantly clear that her presence was unwelcome.
“Let’s give Shane a few more minutes.” The marshal shook his head. “He needs to hear this, too.”
Tessa stifled a groan. Perched on the edge of her seat in Marshal Cain’s office, she tucked the edges of her skirts around her frozen ankles. Wind whistled beneath the door and frost coated the windowpanes.
She shivered and tugged her coat tighter. “There’s no need to bother Mr. McCoy, is there? This really doesn’t concern him.”
Though Shane’s rejection had hurt her more than she cared to admit, his absence was for the best. She was putting them all in danger the longer she stuck around.
“He’s on his way already,” the marshal said.
All the little nagging worries she’d harbored piled up around her in a suffocating heap. She’d had no more success in contacting Emmett, which meant her meager savings must stretch indefinitely. Though she’d scoffed at the reward before, a few days of introspection had given her clarity on the matter. Considering her situation, money was a good thing. Someone was going to collect that reward, and it might as well be her. Since she was no longer an outlaw, the code didn’t apply anyway.
She glanced across the desk separating them. The marshal held her gaze with a benevolent expression she imagined he normally reserved for relaying the news of untimely deaths.
“I don’t suppose your news is good news?” she asked.
“Nope.”
On that less-than-cheerful note, he stood, plucked several pieces of wood from the stack near the potbellied stove and stoked the fire. Though clearly not the best conversationalist, he was a fine-looking man with dark hair showing a feathering of gray at the temples. The lawman had a forthright manner and a direct approach that compelled honesty. The kind of man Emmett avoided at all costs.
Her mouth went dry. “You have me worried, Marshal Cain.”
And that was saying something.
The door burst open in a flurry of cold air and a young girl scooted inside. Realizing she had a brief reprieve before Mr. McCoy arrived, Tessa forced the tension from her shoulders. The newcomer flipped back her coat hood and stomped the snow from her boots on the rag rug.
The young beauty was in her midteens, showing the first blush of womanhood with her bright blue eyes and curly corn silk hair. “Shane is on his way,” the girl said. “He’s talking with Mama now.”
The marshal assisted her with her coat. “This is my daughter, Cora. Cora, this is Miss Spencer.”
The girl held out her hand. “Hello. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Tessa tucked an escaped tendril of hair behind one ear. “Surely not. I only met your father this morning.”
“I didn’t hear about you from Papa.”
Heat crept up Tessa’s neck. Shane must have spoken of her—but why? She doubted she’d made much of an impression. Touching her cheeks, she hoped they weren’t flaming as hotly as they felt.
The marshal ushered his daughter through a second door at the rear of the office. Tessa caught sight of a jail cell and a flight of stairs through the opening.
“Enough, Cora,” the marshal ordered. “You’re making our guest uncomfortable. I’m guessing your mother will be along soon. Why don’t you run along upstairs and put on some coffee? You know where to find everything.”
A gust of winter bluster indicated another arrival. Her heartbeat thundered and the freshly stoked fire suddenly turned the room blistering hot. Shane stepped inside and turned toward the coat hooks, presenting her with his profile. The corners of his mouth drooped at the edges and his eyes were tired and bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept in a month of Sundays.
He hung his hat on the peg near the door and ducked his head. “Miss Spencer.”
“Mr. McCoy,” she replied, matching his formal tone.
He didn’t appear at all happy to see her. Not that she’d expected cartwheels and a jig, but a friendly smile might have been nice. He’d asked for her help before and she was only here at his request, yet he was treating her as though she’d somehow offended him. Crossing her arms, she looked away.
He didn’t even have the courtesy to bring the children. Certainly he knew how much she missed them.
The marshal resumed his seat behind the desk. “Thanks for coming out, Shane. I figured the two of you should hear this at the same time. I just got word from Wichita. Dead Eye Dan Fulton has busted out of jail.”
Tessa gasped and bolted upright. “When?”
“Last night.”
Panic rose like bile in her throat. “Who broke him out?”
As though she had to ask.
“His brothers,” the marshal replied grimly.
She didn’t believe in luck, but she was starting to believe in bad luck. Here she’d been lulled into a false sense of safety, thinking she might actually claim the reward money and sleep a full night through for once.
Tessa turned her fear on Mr. McCoy. “I knew this would happen.”
“I was trying to help,” he wearily replied.
She splayed her fingers over her eyes. Terror definitely had a way of making her forget herself. While she had perfectly valid reasons for being angry with Shane, the outlaw’s escape wasn’t one of them. If she’d told him the truth about her connection to Dead Eye in the first place, then they wouldn’t be in this mess. She had no one to blame but herself for this particular disaster.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course you meant well. I was surprised, that’s all.”
“What about the reward?” Shane demanded.
“Rescinded.” The marshal held up his hands in supplication. “Didn’t say I agreed with the decision.”
“We caught him.” Shane’s voice vibrated with suppressed anger. “It’s not our fault they couldn’t hold him.”
Tessa unconsciously touched his hand, instantly realized her mistake and snatched it back. “The money is the least of our worries. What if he follows us here?”
Ten minutes ago all she’d cared about was the reward money. This news had her caring more about saving her own hide. She’d given the Fultons two reasons for tracking her down: she’d serve as bait for Emmett, and they’d have their revenge as well.
Her hands trembled and she balled her fingers into tight fists. She had no desire to experience Fulton revenge.
The marshal kicked back in his seat. “Without the reward, there’s no way the Fultons can trace the money back here. You’re sheltered in that regard.”
“I suppose that’s something,” Tessa muttered. The men gaped at her. “That’s good for us. For both of us,” she amended.
Talk about a tangled web. If only her father had been a cook or blacksmith or a farmer. Something simple and ordinary. At least Mr. McCoy and the children were safe. Dead Eye was much more likely to connect the dots between her disappearance and his capture than a handsome widower and his children passing through Wichita.
“I have some contacts,” the marshal said. “People I trust. I’ll put out the word, see if we can track them.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Shane replied.
Her slim hope of ever living openly as Tessa Spencer evaporated like the mist. Here she’d been twiddling her thumbs while searching for Emmett, thinking he’d fix his problem and solve hers as well. No more. She had to disappear. Really disappear. Not this skulking about, hoping for the best. She’d go so deep into hiding, not even Emmett could find her. She’d become an entirely new person, with a new name and a new identity, someone no one would suspect.