Twelve

Glory silently cussed a blue streak. A fly in the ointment again. Patience couldn’t find an end to her meddling.

“Yoo-hoo, Mr. Luke!”

Squirt skipped toward them, her arms flapping. A thousand wonders she didn’t take flight. It wasn’t from lack of trying. Glory decided the girl with glossy brown curls keeping pace beside her had to be none other than Josephine Sagen.

Luke’s breath tickled her ear.

Mere inches away, a wry grin flitted across his features, revealing his white teeth, before vanishing. The day-old stubble and the smell of campfire lingered much too close for comfort. Her stomach lurched with the same bittersweet pain.

“A smudge on your face.”

He brushed her jaw with the lightest of fingertips before stepping away.

Embarrassment crawled up her spine. His sole interest appeared relegated to a blob of dirt she’d managed to collect. Simple as that. Humiliation penetrated her poor befuddled brain. She must’ve sat through church with a grimy spot shining away. Proud as punch. Folks probably thought she hadn’t washed in God knows when.

Heat stung her cheeks. No wonder Bess and Amelia had given her a shove. An inward groan rumbled in her throat.

Hellfire and damnation!

The new doctor probably thought her the town’s poor chimney sweep. What an impression she’d made, including just now.

Remembering the tears her hasty words had brought to her sister’s eyes earlier, Glory softened her admonishment. “I asked you to leave me be, honey.”

Patience shrugged. “Just doing what Mama said. Cain’t blame me.”

“Hey there, Punkin. Who you got with you?” If Luke wasn’t so friendly to the chatterbox, she’d quit being a bother. Didn’t he know Patience took his warm smile as encouragement?

“This is Josie. She’s my new best friend.”

“Glad to meet you, Josie.” He offered his hand to Patience’s friend. “You just move here?”

“Yessir.”

Just when Glory thought the emotions twisting this way and that couldn’t get any worse, a glow slowly rose from her chest. That Luke could make even small, lonely girls believe he’d been waiting in this spot just to speak with them complemented his character. How could she have thought ill of him?

Sudden tears hovered. She would never let him know she misinterpreted his friendly nature as anything else. She turned to take her battered dignity back to the church and ran into Charlie Gimble. The rumpled tablet in his hand played tag with the wind.

“Afternoon, Glory. Young ladies.” The man cast them an ink-stained smile. Glory grimly thought if he’d arrived a few minutes earlier, they could’ve compared smudges.

With pencil poised, Charlie turned to Luke. “Are you McClain?”

“Could be.” Luke walked toward the stable.

“Wait. I heard you have a story.”

“News travels faster’n a herd of young cow ponies. Reckon you’d be the local newsmonger.”

Charlie remained unfazed. “In the flesh. This ol’ nose can smell a headline a mile away.”

“Do tell.” Luke arched an eyebrow. “I’d hate like heck to disappoint you. Nothing to report.”

Patience giggled. “Oh, Mr. Luke. It’s all over town how you brought in Mad Dog Perkins.” The girl favored Charlie with elevated importance. “I know it’s true, Mr. Gimble. He told me he’s a lawman. Mr. Luke could’ve captured Perkins a lot sooner if Glory hadn’t shot him in the leg.”

Glory dodged the startled glance her longtime friend lobbed her way by finding that her shoes needed a good dusting and couldn’t wait another second.

Murdering would be too good. The meddling child stuck out her tongue, completely unconcerned.

No doubt Charlie would want full details of her accidental debacle at the earliest opportunity. Something she wasn’t ready to divulge. If those facts came out, she didn’t see how she could keep Luke’s secret. The newspaperman had the skills of a bloodhound.

“Mad Dog Perkins, eh?” Charlie eyeballed Luke over the top of the horn-rims perched on the end of his nose and scribbled something on the pad. “You kill him, McClain? And for the record, what kind of lawman are you?”

Luke’s anger flashed. “You tell me, since everyone seems to know more than I do.”

That sister of hers had opened a can of worms. How to put the lid back on without spilling them would take fancy footwork.

“Just doing my job. Folks look to me for information.”

“Charlie, all you need to know is that McClain found Mad Dog Perkins strung up in a tree. As the Christian thing to do, he cut him down and brought him in. That’s every bit of his involvement.” She accepted Luke’s silent thanks for attempting to lure the editor down another path.

“Kinda cut-and-dried, isn’t it?”

“That’s the way of it. I hope you’re not one who shades the truth to peddle your papers.”

Luke had added flint to this warning.

Charlie blustered. “I take offense to that, mister. I’m an honest newsman. Don’t have any need to print lies.”

“He didn’t mean you’d stoop to that, Charlie,” Glory said hurriedly to soothe his ruffled feathers. “Whoever helped Perkins meet his Maker is a mystery to us. Not that it should shock a body. Half the folks in the county would love to take credit. The rotten man gave skunks a bad name.”

“I agree. No one should raise objections to making sure thanks go to the right person.” Like a dog after a bone, Charlie wouldn’t let go. “What kind of lawman are you?”

Patience opened her mouth, but before a word could spew forth, Glory gripped her arm.

“Ow!”

“He’s the sort you don’t want to mess with.” Glory slipped her arm through Charlie’s, ignoring the fact that her dress swished against a streak of ink on his britches leg. A little more dirt wouldn’t hurt her, she reckoned. She’d already ruined what little reputation she had. “It’s not important. You know, I’ll bet you haven’t eaten lunch. Mama and Hope have brought a whole basket of food.”

Gimble tried to swivel back to Luke. “McClain, would you know anything about the rash of stage robberies?”

Glory tugged him toward the throng at the church. “I know you’re dying for a piece of Hope’s mince pie.”

“Mince pie?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled like fool’s gold.

Thank goodness. He was the only man in the county who could be bought and sold with a piece of pie.

Not chattering like a magpie for once, Patience and her new friend Josie walked beside Glory.

Though she didn’t dare glance back, she suspected Luke wore a relieved look. She’d hide his secret. The least she could do for a perfect stranger whose sinfully divine kisses gave her pause to consider certain advantages of wanton behavior.

In fact, she was so eagerly engaged in contemplating the unlikely that a light touch took her by surprise. Patience had slid her fingers inside Glory’s. Her inquiring gaze met a happy smile. Warm affection sneaked past and over the wall. The squirt did have a lovable side. Glory returned the light squeeze. Maybe her sister didn’t mean to get on her nerves.

“All right, Glory, what’s this I hear about you shootin’ McClain? Sounds like a juicy tale to me.” Charlie’s pointed squint made her fidget.

“She—” Patience began, only to be squelched by a hand over her mouth. “Ow. You’re mean.” She jerked away. “Come on, Josie. I’m gonna tell.”

With a stab of remorse, Glory watched the two girls run in her mother’s direction.

“Now, what was that about?”

“Nothing, Charlie. You know Patience.”

“She claims you shot McClain. Come clean.”

“Again, a dead-end trail.” Innocently, she jiggled her hooked fish. “Mince is the only thing that nose of yours smells.”

He glared. “But after the pie, I’m gonna insist on a few straight answers.”

The dark smudge across his cheek was too tempting. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped off the ink.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Charlie Gimble.”

For good measure, she rubbed her own face. Just in case.

* * *

Luke found himself staring after Glory and company. That she wiggled in the most interesting way didn’t escape his notice. Everything about the eldest Day sister appealed to him.

Take how she wrapped Gimble around her little finger. The man never stood a chance.

Speaking of which, he pondered the likelihood of wrapping her in his arms and charming away the wrinkles that marred her smooth forehead. The faint smell of honeysuckle still wafted in the air, a haunting reminder of her presence.

As if he needed his memory refreshed. Ever since he first met her, he only had to close his eyes to sketch every detail of her face.

Yep, every last indentation and freckle.

Were things different…

But he couldn’t change the events.

Or the fact that he’d done nothing to deserve her loyalty. Since Glory had opened up her family’s home to him, he’d heaped more problems on her. That she protected his ego… Well, he could never repay that. One word would’ve hammered the last nail in his pride. Whoever framed him had knocked him to his knees.

Resolve tightened in his chest. He stared hard down the wagon-rutted street. No one would ever do that to him again.

Damn if they’d steal his right to defend himself.

Footsteps approached. He recognized George Simon by the rank odor.

“Shore is a mighty fine-looking woman.”

He fought the urge to warn the blacksmith to keep his eyes on his horses’ rumps and quit admiring the shape of Glory’s backside.

“Got an undertaker in this town?”

“Cap Bailey. He’s the town barber, dentist, undertaker, and spittoon cleaner.”

“Know where I can find him?”

“Reckon he and the missus is down at the church.”

That figured. Half the whole darn town was.

Rather than shock the ladies’ sensibilities by carrying a dead body into their midst, he’d best bring Bailey back to the stables. Without another word to Simon, he strode toward the noisy gathering.

A quick glance located the Day family. He fully meant to avoid their spread, since the nosy editor had plopped down in the middle of the damask tablecloth, ink and all. But the sight of Glory standing apart with a stranger changed his course. The man held her hand much too boldly for his taste. Besides, he had no idea what this Bailey fellow looked like. More the reason to interrupt.

“Miss Glory, may I have a moment?” He gave the stranger the same frown he reserved for outlaws, horse thieves, and ones he most took exception to.

She jerked back her hand, breaking the conversation in midsentence. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to resume this later.”

Over Luke’s dead body, she would. The stranger clearly encroached where he wasn’t wanted. And Luke didn’t like the blush on her cheeks one bit either.

“Mr. McClain, how nice of you to join us. Meet Santa Anna’s newest, Dr. Ted Dalton.”

He grudgingly gave the man’s outstretched hand a mere brush. “Welcome to the community. Perchance is there a Mrs. Dalton?”

“Luke, how rude!”

Dr. Dalton chuckled. “Afraid I haven’t been that lucky.”

Luke bit back a curse. How could he match up against a man of learning? He watched the competitor tip his hat in Glory’s direction. Why it galled him he couldn’t say.

Maybe because she deserved the best, which might not include a nobody, but it also left out dandies too.

“Miss Day, drop by my office the next time you’re in town and we’ll see about…er, that matter we were discussing.”

Glory’s small hand on his arm prevented him from blurting out what the doctor could do with his offers.

“What was it you wanted, McClain?”

He didn’t speak until they were well out of range. “May I inquire as to the nature of your business with that man?”

“You may not! It’s private.”

“Just asking. No need to get persnickety.”

“What is so urgent that you’d risk another run-in with Charlie?”

Her nearness banished all thoughts from his head. He wanted to remember nothing except her lips and the rare occasion of a bright smile.

“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered.

“Oh, uh…the blacksmith told me I’d find the undertaker over here. I don’t know him from Adam.”

“Cap Bailey is with his family near the church steps. You don’t think it can wait?”

“It’s better to get this distasteful business over with.”

“I suppose.” Doubts hid beneath her tone. “I have to get back to the rest now. Can we talk about this later?”

“Depends on your idea of later.” He hated to break this piece of news, but had no choice. “I’m leaving at first light.”

Her brow wrinkled in surprise. “You’re coming back though?”

Mere folly to take the question at more than face value. Other than making her mad enough to eat tacks when he left her behind, Glory had shown little interest. And only then because she’d needed his help to solve her problem—something a nobody was good at.

Disappointment lodged inside, making sure he didn’t forget.

With Perkins dead, it suddenly occurred to him that he had nothing left to bargain with. No proposition, no arrangement.

Movement a few yards away caught his notice. The good Dr. Dalton smiled and eyed them from the blanket on which he’d settled.

Luke’s gut twisted.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He forced a light tone, trying to ignore the avalanche the pieces of his heart created. “Can I ask a favor? Keep my leaving under your hat.”