Kendrick: Outlaw's Bride Part 12

Careless wasn't sure whether that was a warning or a threat. It felt like both. Careless swallowed down his feelings of annoyance. He was the same man now that he had been twenty years ago when Trahern had gotten him hired by the town council. He had felt then as he felt now. Cleaning was a waste of time. Things just got messed up again.

But he served as sheriff of Oakville only so long as it pleased Jefferson Trahern for him to do so. At fifty-four, Careless Lachlan didn't feel like pulling up stakes and moving on. When Trahern said jump, Careless got to hopping like a bunch of tree frogs. "I'll get someone in here to straighten up," he mumbled.

Careless hurried around his desk and shoved a pile of flyers and posters onto the floor from the seat of a ladderback chair. "You can sit here."

Trahern took one look at the uncomfortable chair and said, "I think I'll stand. This won't take long."

Careless felt uncomfortable standing face-to-face with Trahern. But he didn't know any way to retreat behind his desk except by turning his back on the other man. No one with sense and a wish for survival turned his back on Jefferson Trahern.

"Uh ... what can I do for you, Mr. Trahern?" Careless asked. "You ain't come about that idea of Hawk's, have you? I mean, 'vestigatin' what happened seventeen years ago-that's crazy, right?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Trahern said. "Who's investigating what?"

Careless wished he had kept his mouth shut, because it felt d.a.m.ned uncomfortable now that he had his foot in it. He pulled at the hairs on his chin. "Uh ... ain't you heard?"

"Heard what? Spit it out, Careless. I haven't got all day."

"Had a visit from Hawk. He wanted to know everythin' I 'membered 'bout the 'vestigation of your daughter's ra- 'Bout what happened that day when Miss Trahern got ..." Careless didn't dare get any more specific because every time he tried, Trahern's face tightened up. Finally, he said, "Anyway, Hawk wants to know what I found out in my 'vestigation."

"What did you tell him?"

"That there weren't no 'vestigation, 'cause we knew who done it."

"What did he say to that?"

"Said we was mistaken. Said he didn't do it. Said the real culprit has been runnin' free all these years. He means to find the man who done it and bring him to justice."

"He won't have to look any farther than his own mirror," Trahern said. "Ruthless son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Careless scratched nervously at his crotch. He caught Trahern's disgusted look and left off what he was doing.

"There isn't anyone else it could be," Trahern muttered.

"Hawk said there's whole bunches of suspects."

"Who?" Trahern demanded.

"Everybody who showed up to your daughter's party. Hawk said it coulda been any one of 'em."

Trahern quickly went through a mental list of everyone who had been invited to Merielle's birthday party. It was a long one because he had just finished his year of mourning for Merielle's mother, who had died unexpectedly of pneumonia the previous winter. He had wanted his daughter to have the kind of shindig her mother had always given. He had asked half the businessmen in town to come, along with everyone in the cattlemen's a.s.sociation. Dorne had invited some of his friends, as well.

But none of them had been anywhere near Merielle when she was found. Ethan had.

There was only one reason why Hawk was raising doubts now about what had happened. He wanted to stop Trahern from hounding him, and he hoped to get public sympathy on his side. By G.o.d, that wasn't going to happen!

Every morning when he faced his daughter across the breakfast table, Trahern was reminded of Ethan Hawk's crime. He hadn't been able, even with all his wealth, to undo the damage Ethan had done.

Once, a long time ago, he had brought in some doctors from back East to see if they could help Merielle recover her memory. But their attempts only made her hysterical. For several days afterward she didn't speak at all. He was afraid of losing her completely, so he had sent the doctors back where they came from. He had loved the child she was, and mourned the woman she would never become.

It had cost a fortune to hunt Ethan down. He had frothed at the mouth when a jury sentenced Ethan to a mere seven years in prison instead of hanging him for Dorne's murder. And he had nearly gone mad when they insisted there was insufficient evidence to convict him of Merielle's rape.

It was during the years Ethan spent in prison that Trahern realized the law wasn't going to give him the justice he craved. Of course he couldn't be blatant about taking the law into his own hands, because the town was willing to concede that Ethan had paid his debt in prison. Trahern had to exercise discretion in order to avoid causing trouble for himself.

Ordinarily, he would have ordered his foreman to make whatever arrangements were necessary to solve the problem. But his foreman, Frank Meade, had been Ethan's friend. He didn't trust Frank to look to his boss's interests where Ethan was concerned.

So Trahern had left Frank out of it. To distance himself, he had asked Careless Lachlan to take care of hiring someone to kill Ethan Hawk when he got out of prison. To his chagrin, Ethan had easily dealt with the first bunch of hired guns Careless had found. This time, however, Trahern was bringing in the best. He wanted this business finished once and for all.

His hate for Ethan Hawk had been a boil on his neck for seventeen years, chafing under his collar, the swelling less some days and worse on others. He wanted it cut out.

"Have you contacted that gunman in Wichita?" Trahern asked the sheriff.

Careless had been surrept.i.tiously shifting himself, trying to get comfortable inside his trousers. He hadn't yet succeeded, and his agitation came out in his answer. "It ain't that easy hirin' killers when you're the sheriff!"

"That problem can easily be remedied," Trahern said in a menacing voice.

Careless realized he had crossed the line and mentally stepped back. "Ain't gonna get rid of Ethan Hawk with no hired gun. He's too fast," he said sullenly.

"We'll see. Calloway has a reputation of his own. Now, are you going to take care of it, or do we need a new sheriff in Oakville?"

Careless felt like a pony with his bridle off. He didn't know which way to go, what to do. This had been a good job for a long time. He had done a few favors for Jefferson Trahern over the years, especially when Dorne was alive. Overlooking the boy's pranks in town that resulted in broken windows and damaged property. Calming down Horace Felber when Dorne roughed up Chester. Warning off the father of a sodbuster girl Dorne had made advances to.

He had manipulated the law for Trahern, too. Moving off some drifters who had settled on land that didn't belong to the Tumbling T, but which Trahern used to graze his cattle. Refusing to help Alexander Hawk when masked riders began rustling his cattle. Railroading Ethan Hawk into prison.

He'd had his doubts at the time about whether Ethan was guilty, but he had lacked the guts to face down Jefferson Trahern. Things hadn't changed much in seventeen years. Careless wasn't proud of himself, but he had to live somehow. And this was all he knew.

He faced Trahern with his head hanging like a panting tongue. "I'll take care of it."

"How long before you think he'll get here?"

"I ain't got no control of that," Careless said. "He'll be here when he gets here."

"Just make sure he does the job," Trahern said. "Or you can say good-bye to yours."

Trahern whirled on a booted heel and left Careless standing there.

When the door slammed behind the big man, Careless heaved a sigh so big you could feel the draft.

"h.e.l.l," he muttered. "Way things are goin', looks like I might have to shoot Ethan Hawk myself."

Ethan tied his horse to the back of the wagon Patch had brought to town, helped her up onto the wooden seat, then stepped up and across her and seated himself. He grabbed the reins, gave the team a slap, and headed the wagon out of town.

Patch scooted as close to Ethan as she could and threaded her arm through his. "What did the sheriff say?"

"That I'm wasting my time. There never was any investigation, so he doesn't have any information to share with me."

"Did you tell him you plan to do your own investigation?"

Ethan smiled wryly. "He wasn't impressed."

Ethan looked at the spot where Patch's thigh rested against his. The feel of her flesh pressed up close to his was giving him ideas he had no business having. He sidled his leg away, but to his dismay, hers followed.

Ethan glanced at Patch from the corner of his eye. She smiled at him, the soul of innocence. She couldn't know what she was doing to him, he decided, and it would only embarra.s.s them both if he said anything. He gritted his back teeth and tried to ignore his body's response to her nearness.

"I thought surely Trahern was going to catch you in the sheriff's office," Patch said.

"I saw him coming and slipped out the back." Ethan eyed her keenly. "It looked like the two of you were having a discussion. What was that all about?"

"You'll never guess what happened!"

"Knowing you, probably not," Ethan said with a wry twist of his mouth.

Patch playfully hugged his arm tight against her. Ethan felt the weight of her left breast against his arm. He glanced sharply at her, but she seemed oblivious to what she had done.

"It's something wonderful, actually," Patch said. "I got invited to supper by Merielle Trahern."

"You what! Are you out of your mind?" Ethan yanked the team to a quick halt. He set the brake and wrapped the reins around it to leave his hands free to shake the daylights out of Patch. Only she had clutched his arm and was holding on for dear life.

"Give me a chance to explain!"

He grabbed her jaw with his free hand, tipped her chin up, and said, "This had better be good."

"Don't you see? Merielle is the key to everything. What if she could remember what happened? What if she could name the man who attacked her? Trahern would have to leave you alone."

"What does all that have to do with going to dinner at Trahern's place?"

"Merielle likes me, Ethan. I think she might learn to trust me. Maybe I could get her to talk about the past."

"I thought Frank was going to do that."

"Did I happen to mention that I saw Frank with Merielle at the mercantile?

"No, you didn't."

"Well, Frank was there. He already tried talking to Merielle, but she didn't remember anything."

Patch slipped her free hand up to play with the dark curls at Ethan's collar. He shuddered as her gloved finger slid across his nape. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her hand down. His eyes narrowed. That sort of behavior was d.a.m.ned provocative. The lady had to know what she was doing to him.

Patch smiled nonchalantly up at him and continued, "So you see, I have to go to Merielle's house for dinner."

"No, I don't see that at all. I've told you how Trahern feels about me. I don't want you getting caught in the middle."

"Trahern knows I'm staying at the Double Diamond, Ethan. He said if Merielle wants me for a friend, he won't stand in her way. Actually, once he found out Merielle liked me, he practically ordered me to come."

Patch traced the corded muscle that stood out on the back of Ethan's hand. "This is a chance we can't afford to pa.s.s up. If Merielle ever gets her memory back-"

"You're shooting at stars, Patch. The chances of Merielle being like she was are slim to none."

"I'll take that chance," Patch retorted.

"I don't want you to go."

"I'm going."

Her chin jutted mulishly, her blue eyes flashed. Her breathing picked up so her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose and fell practically under his nose. Ethan found her absolutely beautiful. Utterly desirable. Almost irresistible.

He carefully separated himself from Patch, picked up the reins, and headed the team homeward again. "We'll talk about this later."

"I won't change my mind."

"We'll see."

The team had barely started moving when Patch cried, "Stop the wagon!"

Ethan jerked the team to a halt. The wagon was still rolling when she leapt down from the seat and headed off in the direction of a patch of sagebrush. Ethan wrapped the reins around the brake and raced after her.

"What's the matter?" he yelled as he ran. "Where the h.e.l.l do you think you're going?"

By the time he caught up to her, Patch had already dropped to the ground in the brush beside a small doe that was trying unsuccessfully to get back on her feet.

"Stay away!" Ethan warned. "Those flailing hooves could slice you to ribbons."

He noticed that Patch was on her knees in the dirt-totally unmindful of the costly red velvet dress she was wearing. Here was the reckless hoyden he remembered from the days in Montana. Careless, carefree, with a heart as big as the sky. Only his hoyden had grown into a woman, the sight of whom left his throat dry and his heart pounding.

"Relax, dearie. Everything's going to be all right," Patch crooned to the wounded animal.

"Dearie?" Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, Ethan, you're scaring her," Patch said in a cooing voice for the benefit of the anxious deer. "She's going to need some help. She's been shot in the leg."

"By someone who expected to have venison for supper," Ethan replied. "Let me finish the job, and we'll be the ones with fresh meat on the dinner table."

He already had his Colt out when Patch turned on him like an avenging fury. "How could you even think of killing this poor, defenseless creature?"

"I like venison steak."

"Ethan Hawk! Are you going to help me get this deer into the wagon, or not?"

"I will, but only because I figure it'll die anyway, and I'll get my steak sooner or later."

Patch glared at him. "You didn't used to be so uncaring of a wild animal forced to flee the hunter's gun."

His features hardened. "That's because, once upon a time, I used to be one myself."

While Patch crooned comfort to the deer, Ethan took off his shirt and draped it over the deer's eyes. Then he picked up the animal and put it in the back of the wagon. Instead of returning to her seat beside him. Patch clambered into the wagon bed.

"You're going to ruin that dress," Ethan warned.

"Garn!" Patch said, looking down at the dust-covered velvet, which now had a small tear in the hem where it had caught on the wagon when she jumped down. "I forgot all about it!"