The Lawman Said I Do Page 4

  “Who’s Leaper?” Colt asked, as if he couldn’t guess.

  “Petey’s pet frog.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “You know. The frog we put in the bathtub.”

  Colt feigned innocence. “You put a frog in the bathtub? Why would you do a thing like that, Belle? Now run along and catch up with Jesse and Frank. Maybe you three can find a bank to rob next.”

  “Their names are Bowie and Petey. And my name ain’t Belle!” She raced to catch up with the James brothers.

  Colt watched until the three disappeared down the stairs. They were a mite heavy on the annoying side, but he and his brother hadn’t exactly been angels, either. Grinning, he closed the door.

  Then he remembered their purpose for coming. Deputy sheriff! What in hell was that all about?

  Sheriff Jethro Braden was behind his desk reading the newspaper when Colt entered.

  “Howdy, son.”

  “Sheriff Braden, I just heard a rumor that I’m going to be your deputy.”

  Jethro glanced over the top of the spectacles perched on his nose. “I might have mentioned that I could use a deputy, and Gus said you was fast with that Colt on your hip. Ever think of becomin’ a lawman?”

  “I intend to become one, Sheriff Braden.”

  Jethro’s eyes gleamed with pleasure. “So you’re volunteerin’.”

  “No, I am on my way to California. I’m only here until the stage arrives next week.”

  “Son, that stage will only take you as far as Santa Fe. Then you’ll have to change to a different one. And several more after that. You’ve got a long way to go, and there’ll be a lot of delays along the way before you get to California. No sense in hopin’ to rush it. You gotta have the patience to do one stage at a time.”

  A gleam of amusement sparked his eyes as a chuckle rumbled from his chest. “One stage at a time. Get it? A little humor there, son.

  “You’re gonna need a lot more than that fifty dollars in your pocket to get all the way to California. The town’ll pay you ten dollars, and the cost of your hotel room. So what have you got to lose?”

  “The offer’s tempting, Sheriff, and I won’t deny I could use the money. But what do you need a deputy for? The town appears to be pretty quiet.”

  “Now and again we get some bad hombres passin’ through town. And come Saturday, a lot of the cow-pokes from neighborin’ ranches come in and get themselves likkered up. I can use a helpin’ hand roundin’ them up when they do, to keep them out of trouble.”

  “What happened to your last deputy?”

  “Ben and one of the gals from the Alhambra took off for Santa Fe. Town don’t have too many young men. We lost a few in the war, and the ones that came home settled down to ranchin’ and startin’ families.” Jethro grimaced. “I ain’t gonna try and fool you, son. Arena Roja is a peaceful enough town, but in the past year there’s been a lot of stragglers come through lookin’ for trouble. They join up and form outlaw gangs. And there’s always the Indian threat. Just ain’t too many young men who want to pin on a badge. It warms my heart to hear one like you say you want to be a lawman.”

  Nothing was going to keep Colt from going on to California and joining his brothers. The plight of Arena Roja was not his problem. But as long as he was stuck here for a week, he certainly could use the money.

  “All right, Sheriff Braden, you’ve got a deputy for a week. Come next Thursday, I’m getting on that stage.”

  Jethro pulled a badge out of a desk drawer and stood up. “Raise your right hand, son. You swear to uphold and defend the laws and citizens of Arena Roja?”

  Colt raised his right hand. “I do.”

  Jethro handed him the badge. “You don’t have to start wearin’ this ’til tomorrow. Take the rest of the day to get your strength back, Deputy.”

  “I appreciate that, sir. In the meantime, I’d like to read the manual on the local laws I just swore to uphold.”

  “Won’t take much readin’.” Jethro opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper yellowed by age and bearing more than one coffee stain—or was it whiskey?

  “We ain’t got too many laws to obey. There’s ordinances against killin’, robbin’, drunken brawlin’, horse stealin’, spittin’ tobacco on the walks, firin’ a weapon on Sundays, rapin’ women, abusin’ horses, and kickin’ dogs.”

  “What about fist fighting, Sheriff?”

  “Man’s got a right to protect his honor, son.”

  “Even on Sundays.”

  Jethro nodded. “But there’s no sellin’ beer and alcohol on Sundays. Don’t much matter, though. The boys get so likkered up on Saturday night that the next mornin’ they don’t want no more of the snake that bit them.”

  Upon leaving the sheriff’s office, Colt decided to take another look around at the town he had just agreed to defend. Granted, Arena Roja was just one of the many small stagecoach stops on the route to Santa Fe, but it offered most of the amenities a traveler would hope for.

  The Santa Fe Trail had been the main route linking east and west for five decades, and caravans of wagons had traveled the eight-hundred-mile route between Independence, Missouri, and Santa Fe, New Mexico, carrying everything from calico and denim to sugar and whiskey, returning with Mexican silver and gold, furs and wools.

  What surprised Colt was the length of time the town had been in existence without its citizens making any effort to improve most of its buildings and streets. The bank was the only stone building; even the church and its bell tower were wooden.

  It came as no surprise, however, that his acceptance of the deputy’s job had already spread swiftly through the town. As he walked through the streets, merchants came out of their businesses to introduce themselves and offer their welcome.

  Colt figured by the time he reached the hotel that he would have shaken hands with most of Arena Roja’s citizens.

  The clang of a bell caught his attention. He saw Cassie Braden pulling on a bell rope in front of a small building at the far end of town, and several children headed in that direction.

  Curious, he meandered down the street to check it out.

  A sign bearing the words School House hung above the door. Peering through the only window of the small building, Colt saw that it was a single room consisting of five rows of desks, four deep. Twelve of the desks were filled.

  A brick fireplace filled most of one wall, and well-stocked bookshelves lined the opposite one.

  Colt was amazed to see the number of books. Apparently someone had taken great care to see that the children of the town were not denied a broad education. Cassie was at a chalkboard at the front of the room. As she reached up to write an equation, her shirt stretched tightly across her breasts. It made him wonder how willing she’d be to go another round with a different camisole—only this time, he’d be doing the ripping.

  Little Petey sat in the front row with a full view, including her bodacious, pants-covered derriere.

  Some kids had all the luck, even though they were far too young to appreciate it.

  Colt returned to the hotel a short time later, wondering how he’d let himself get talked into becoming the deputy sheriff in this sleepy town.

  Well even so, one thing was for certain: that other town rumor was totally false. Hell would freeze over before he’d ever marry Cassie Braden.

  He took off his boots and lay down to take that nap he’d been looking forward to all afternoon.

  Darkness had descended by the time Colt awoke. He had no idea what time it was when he stepped out on the balcony. From the sound of music and voices coming from the nearby Alhambra, it would appear that many cowboys were already in town.

  As Colt stood enjoying the evening breeze, he heard an angry voice coming from below and recognized it as Cassie Braden’s.

  Now who was the firebrand chewing out?

  “You’re making fools of us, making the family look ridiculous to the people of this town.
Can’t you consider anyone but yourself? How do you expect Dad to keep the people’s respect when his son is stumbling around most of the time like a town drunk?”

  “Everybody loves him, and Cathy, and you. I’m the only one they’re laughing at.”

  “I didn’t see Colt Fraser laughing. That childish trick you pulled on him today could have gotten him hurt or killed. The man is recovering from a bullet wound! You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you on the spot. If you don’t care about your welfare, have some consideration for those of us who love you. Do us the favor of growing up.”

  She spun on her heel and strode down the road toward the schoolhouse, dust puffs kicking up at her heels.

  You could have saved your breath, Cassie Braden, Colt thought when he saw Jeff Braden cross the road and enter the Alhambra.

  But Colt was glad he’d been wrong about Cassie: She hadn’t been a party to her brother’s practical joke.

  Furthermore, she thought enough about the children of the town to make some attempt to educate them. So she wasn’t as irresponsible as he once thought.

  The Braden twins were both attractive, but as sweet as Cathy was, Cassie was the one who fascinated him.

  The prospects for the next week became very promising again.

  He glanced down the road and saw a glowing light coming from the schoolhouse. Why had Cassie gone back at this hour?

  He decided to walk down and find out.

  Chapter 4

  Cassie finished sweeping the floor and looked around at the schoolroom. She never entered this room without being reminded of Ted. The books that lined the shelves, the round globe of the world that sat on her desk, the dictionary on a pedestal in the corner of the room—so much of it bought with his own money.

  Her gaze swung to the message he had written on the corner of the chalkboard, which she had insisted remain there until his return.

  Good-bye. I’ll be thinking of and missing all of you. I’ll be back as soon as the war is over.

  —Mr. McBride

  You promised to come back to us, Ted. You have to be alive.

  Cassie stared out of the window, her memories whisking her back five years to the day she had kissed Ted McBride good-bye. Her young heart had ached that day when Ted had left to go off to war. He had looked so handsome in his blue uniform, with his tanned face and blond hair, that she’d thought her heart would burst. He’d held her hand as the mayor had extolled his praises and wished a safe return for Arena Roja’s beloved schoolmaster.

  The clock chiming on the wall jolted her out of her musing, and Cassie was amazed to discover that it was eight o’clock. She blew out the lamp and rushed from the room, slamming into a figure about to enter. The force of the collision threw her back, and her head struck the door.

  Gasping, she slumped to the floor. Giddy and light-headed, she sat as a kaleidoscope of color whirled around her head.

  “Are you all right, Miss Braden?”

  Responding to the warm timbre of the deep voice, she smiled. “I’ve never been struck by lightning before. I didn’t even know it was raining.”

  “Miss Braden, I think I should get you to the doctor,” the deep voice said worriedly.

  The voice began to sound suspiciously like Colt Fraser’s as she drifted blissfully between awareness and a sensation of heavenly languor.

  The strength in the muscular arms that swept her up was a marvel to her. As she snuggled contentedly against a firm chest, the pleasant, musky scent of male and shaving soap teased her muddled senses. She burrowed deeper against the firm chest, and to her delight, the strong arms tightened protectively.

  She groaned in protest when those strong, warm arms relinquished her to the hard indifference of a chair. From somewhere she heard a voice shout, “Doctor, in here.”

  Her dark lashes flickered repeatedly until she finally managed to force them open. The whirling array of color converged into two luminous, brown spheres. Dazedly, she saw that the center of each sphere contained an even darker circle of deep-brown velvet. They reminded her of the eyes of a colt she once had.

  Cassie blinked several more times until her vision cleared. Focusing on the man who hovered above her, she saw a strong, masculine face with a broad forehead and forceful jaw that signaled determination.

  His nose had been broken at one time; there was a small crook at the bridge. Smile lines inched from the corners of his eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

  When his frown changed to a smile she shifted her attention to his full lips, a disturbingly sensuous invitation at such close range. Clearing her throat, she brought a shaking hand to her head. “What happened?”

  “Well, Teach, I’m afraid you had your bell rung.” He flashed a sheepish grin that launched another missile at her defenses.

  “And I just bet you’re the bell ringer,” she murmured. “Are you driven to knocking down members of my family, Mr. Fraser?”

  The mouth above her slashed into a lethal grin, and she was relieved when Dr. Williams appeared.

  The good doctor leaned over her, his countenance grave with concern. “How are you feeling, Cassie?”

  “I’m fine now, Dr. Williams. Just a mild headache.”

  She tried to sit up fully, and Colt’s strong hands immediately assisted her. Dr. Williams examined her eyes and tested her reflexes.

  “Everything appears normal, my dear. I’m afraid you’ll probably have a headache, though.” He handed her two pills. “Here, these should give you some relief.”

  Colt handed her a glass of water, and she swallowed them.

  The doctor closed his bag, then patted her on the shoulder. “Come and see me in the morning, Cassie.” He turned to Colt. “I have a patient next door who’s in labor and I must get back to her. My carriage is right outside; will you drive Cassie safely back home?”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m fine now,” Cassie said.

  “It could take all night for this delivery, and I hate to see old Willie hitched up to a carriage all night. When you’re through, Mr. Fraser, will you take him back to his stall at the livery?”

  “No problem, Doctor,” Colt said.

  “Thank you. And, Cassie, you’ll be fine.”

  “I am fine,” she declared again, but the doctor had already left.

  Cassie decided to make her own departure, as well, and rose to her feet. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Fraser.”

  She had not taken more than two steps when he caught up with her. “Miss Braden, I think you shouldn’t attempt to walk. I insist upon driving you home.”

  “That’s really not necessary. My head is cleared now.”

  “It’s settled. I owe you that for the inconvenience I’ve caused you.”

  Nothing was settled as far as she was concerned. Particularly her climbing into a carriage with this persistent man.

  “Mr. Fraser—”

  “Colt,” he corrected.

  “Ah…Colt, the accident was my fault, as much as yours. It’s not necessary for you to feel any obligation—”

  “The matter’s settled.” That forceful jaw she had rashly admired had settled into steadfast determination. He grasped her elbow in a firm grip.

  Cassie soon found herself ensconced on the seat of the carriage. She felt more intimidated by this intimate proximity than she did by the size of him, even though he had to be several inches over six feet and almost two hundred pounds of muscle and hard flesh. The pure male essence of the man was overpowering.

  He turned his head and studied her with a slow, sensual perusal.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Well, what?” she challenged. Her belligerent tone dared him to make one suggestive remark. That’s all she was waiting for; it would give her a good excuse to get out of the carriage.

  As if Colt had read her thoughts, he inquired in a concerned tone, “Feeling any better?”

  “I’m fine.” Darn it, Cassie, why are you making a fool of yourself?
“The pills helped,” she added in a conciliatory tone.

  “I bet you haven’t eaten any dinner.”

  “You’re right.” Now tired and hungry, she realized the day had slipped away from her.

  It took her a moment to realize the carriage had stopped. They were in front of the restaurant that was much more exclusive than the hotel’s, and Colt was reaching up to lift her out of the carriage.

  “Let’s go, Miss Braden. I don’t want you to faint on me.”

  His pleasing, musky fragrance tantalized her nostrils again when he swung her to the ground as if she were weightless.

  Upon entering the restaurant, Cassie saw several of the diners wave to Colt. He returned the gesture.

  Candlelight and the soothing sound of a string quartet contributed to the small establishment’s relaxed atmosphere. It was a pleasant change from the raucous sound that often carried into the hotel’s dining room from the bar.

  Colt led her to a velvet-covered booth in the corner of the room.

  The waiter, Harry Standish, greeted Colt like an old friend. Cassie got a casual “Hi,” even though she and Harry had been schoolmates.

  “How’s your dad doing, Harry?” Cassie asked.

  “Getting around slower these days since Bess kicked him. Tonight’s specialty is chicken pot pie. So what’s it gonna be, folks?”

  “Sounds good,” Cassie said.

  “What about you, Deputy?” Harry asked.

  “The sheriff told me this restaurant serves the best steak in town. I like mine rare. And, Harry, will you ask the chef to hustle it? The lady’s as hungry as I am.”

  “Will do.” Harry winked at him and sauntered away.

  Clearly inquisitive, Colt asked, “Is Bess his wife or his mother?”

  “Bess is their mule.”

  “And where did Bess kick him?”

  Cassie blushed. “It would be indelicate of me to say.”

  Colt grinned. “I think I understand.”

  “And I hope you understand it would not be prudent to allow you to buy me dinner, so I’m paying for my own meal.”

  “Just because you’re running around in men’s clothing doesn’t mean you can’t be treated like a lady,” he said, amused.