Western Romance Collection: Rugged Cowboys Part 45

"Howdy, stranger."

Marie's eyes rose to meet Ruby's. She had a wicked smile on her face. Apparently church had done little to curb whatever impish mood she was in.

"Ruby, hey."

"Long time, no see."

"I've been busy," Marie said, making an apologetic expression. Ruby waved it off.

"That's exactly what I hearabout you and Mr. Broadmoor, no less."

Marie's face flushed before she could deny it, and by the time that she had control of herself, whatever opportunity she might have had to refuse the claim was gone. So she stayed silent and hoped that Ruby wouldn't press her.

"Well, you'll want to know, then. Folks said they seen that bartender of yours acting mighty funny, the past few days."

"They seem to think he 'acts funny' as a matter of course."

Ruby shrugged. It wasn't exactly an argument she'd fight. "Weirder than usual, though. Spooked."

"And what, pray tell, spooked him? Me?"

"So the story is, he got into words with some fella from out of town. He rode into town, was seen playing some cards, spoke to the man behind the counterthat's Chrisand left."

"So you don't know anything about it at all?"

"Now when did I say that?"

"Okay, then. Spill it." She smiled and gave a little wink, as if to say that they were just talking. Which, to be fair, they were, for now. She would be just talking until she talked to Chris about it, later.

"Well, this is where things get funny, right? So take this with a grain of salt. But some folks said that he was a Marshall, going to take the boy in for some murder he did, down in Texas."

Marie raised an eyebrow. "A murder. In Texas. A ranger."

"Hey, I'm just telling you what was told to me. You know, you really ought to come to church. Then you wouldn't need me tellin' you all this juicy stuff."

"Yeah, I'm thinking that maybe they wouldn't altogether approve of me."

"What, old man Bradbury? Aw, he'd get over it. Ain't nothing but idle talk."

"Anything else real good?"

Ruby shook her head. "Not unless you got something to tell me about Mr. Broadmoor, that is." Her face split into a grin. "Go on, spill it."

Marie couldn't stop her face twisting into a grin, but there was something she could do. "I got to get going. Got to meet some folks."

"Some folks, you're sayin?" The look on Ruby's face said that she had some specific guesses about which folks Marie was going to see.

"I'm going now, Ruby. Say hey to your dad for me, and don't get caught slacking off."

Ruby's face twisted into a pout. "I'm never slacking off, Miss Bainbridge. I'm just working inside my head, don't you know?"

She let out a laugh and shifted the broom from one hand to the other. Marie started off and waved back as she walked away. Her eyes unconsciously shifted across the road, where the saloon sat on the opposite corner, the other side of the street from Owen's.

It wouldn't be that big a detour, would it? And she needed to have some questions answered. There were mistakes, and there were mistakes. She was a grown woman, and she could own up to what she'd done, but the one thing she couldn't have was talk about Chris having murdered someone. He couldn't have, she thought. She suspected. But there was something underneath the surface with him, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. And she was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter what.

Twenty-Eight.

There was a spot on the bar where Jim, in his infinite capability, decided to remind Chris why he wasn't a bartender by leaving spilled alcohol that stained the finish on the wood, and he'd been spending an hour rubbing the discoloration out by the time that the door opened to let in the first customer.

He didn't look up right away. After all, it was too early for the stage, and regulars would know they were coming in early anyways. The doors, strictly speaking, shouldn't even be open yet, but open they were, in spite of his better judgment.

They would probably settle down at the card table, or go looking for Sarah to hire one of the girls for an after-church round. Which meant, effectively, Chris could ignore them completely. When the footsteps sounded like they were approaching directly, though, he finally looked up, admitting to himself that there wasn't much chance of avoiding the conversation by looking sufficiently busy.

"Can I help you?" He spoke the words before bothering to rise from his place behind the counter, and once he'd said it, he immediately regretted it. Marie was as pretty as ever, he thought. The fact that she was soaked practically to her skin didn't do anything to change that.

He shot a glare over at Jim, who shrugged.

"Can we talk?"

He blinked. "I guess so."

She frowned and looked over at the big man in the corner. "It's private, I think."

"A'right," he said. "Jim, get on out of here a minute."

Jim didn't waste any time, taking the back door out and closing it behind him. Like he'd had some place to go, or something. Chris watched him go with a mix of boredom and mild curiosity where the man had to be in such a rush. He'd never struck Chris as having much going on in the first place.

"Is this about last night?"

He leaned against the back wall and tried to keep his face neutral. Whatever she said, it didn't much effect him, and he had to make sure to keep thinking of it that way, regardless of what he might actually think.

"No," she said. He shouldn't have been as relieved as he was. "That was"

Her face went crimson red and he couldn't stop himself from breaking just a little bit of a smile.

"What's up, then, that's so private?"

"Well, I just heard some talk, and I wanted to know your thoughts."

He raised an eyebrow. "Gossip is for private conversations, now?"

"Well, it's about you."

"Most gossip is, these days, one way or another."

Her lips pressed together.

"I justyou have to promise not to get mad, okay? I didn't believe a word of it, but I wanted to see what you had to say."

Chris smiled curiously. "You're making me nervous, here. What is it? You hear I worship the devil or something?"

"Who was that man who came to see you?"

His smile dropped. He shouldn't have expected that it would stay quiet. It was a crowded bar, and he hadn't exactly had the presence of mind to keep the conversation light. Anyone who looked over would probably have seen that Chris was about ready to bust his brother's jaw.

"What's the talk?"

"Well, they saythey say you did something bad, and he's a law-man come to get you."

Chris closed his eyes and let out a little chuckle. "Not quite right."

Marie looked at him with an expression that he didn't like one bit. "Then what? What happened?"

"You ever hear me ask you about your past?"

"No," she said, reluctant.

"You ever hear me ask about anyone's?"

"Not really, but I suppose you could have done it when I wasn't around."

"Well, I don't. Because I don't talk about my past, so I don't expect other people to do it neither. That's fair, don't you think?"

"I don't understand what the secret is."

"No secret," Chris said. He kept his face cool. "Everyone's got a story, and every story's got the bad parts. I don't like talkin' about it, and so I don't. If something's important, I'll tell you. Until then, don't push me. Please."

She squirmed the whole time he was talking, until he said 'please,' and then she squirmed twice as much. "I didn't mean to offend you," she offered, looking down at the floor.

"Hey. Look at me." He waited for her gaze to rise a little way. "You didn't offend me, Marie. I just don't want to talk about it."

Her expression twisted up. "But why?"

"Just things I don't like to think about any more. Things that happened, that aren't good memories for me."

She bit her lip, and Chris could tell she had something to say. Part of him wanted to tell her to say it; part of him wanted him not to say it at all.

"You mean like how you got to know so much about orphans?"

He blinked to keep the expression from showing on his face, but Chris was pretty sure he managed to keep his emotion from showing.

"Yeah, like that."

She seemed to realize what she'd said after the words were out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to I ought to just go."

"Don't worry about me, Miss Bainbridge. I'll get over it."

"But I shouldn't have been poking around where it's none of my business."

"I forgive you."

She didn't seem to have much of a reaction to that at all, like he hadn't said it.

"I ought to go."

"Sure," he said. His voice low. She turned and walked out the front. The sound of the rain punctuated her leaving. Jim caught the door from her as she stepped out.

"Everything alright?"

Chris shrugged. "Yeah, man. It's fine."

"Anything good?"

Chris stepped back up to the counter and peered at an angle to see if he could make out where the stain had been. It was mostly out, now, but you never notice until it's too late, just taking a cursory glance.

"You know what I like about you, Jim?" Chris didn't wait for him to answer. "You never talk too much. Never sticking your nose into other folks' business."

The bouncer got the hint and settled back into his seat with his book, and Chris went back to rubbing out a stain that shouldn't even have been there in the first place.

Now if only the rest of his mistakes were so easy to get rid of.

Twenty-Nine.

Marie was trapped. She didn't like being trapped, and she liked feeling trapped even less. Better to be it and not feel it, if you have the choice. That way, she could at least fool herself. Father had learned that lesson, and eventually even Marie had forgotten that there had been a time when she knew, consciously and at all times, that everything was going all wrong.

Chris, though, didn't seem so accommodating.

How much was she even allowed to know? How much was appropriate to wonder? She didn't know and at this point it was well past the point of just coming out and asking. He was right. There were things he didn't ask her about, and it was only fair that she respect those boundaries.

That didn't help her curiosity, though. Because it always seems as if it's going to be perfectly normal. If she just knew what was going on, then maybe she would find out that it was all perfectly normal, too.

That wasn't how it had gone with Father. Things had suddenly flown off the tracks, when things went bad. Which, inevitably, they were always going to. If she had known what was going on, if she'd been preparedthat is, if she'd been allowed to knowthen it would have been something she could avoid from a long way off.

She took a deep breath and settled into her seat. Why Owen wasn't there, she didn't know. To say that it was frustrating, though... it was well past frustrating. He was avoiding her, it seemed, and she couldn't begin to guess why except that he wasn't giving her the room that she had paid for, that she was still paying for.