when you met him.” If he’d had access to a buggy whip, he would have taken it to Jenny right then and there.
Jenny, who seemed to be able to sense what he was thinking, said, “Now, Jason, don’t be cross. We just ducked in to get out of the rain, and when we went inside, Abigail was the only one there!”
“Still, you know you’re not supposed to be in there. Especially hangin’ around with the likes of Rafe Lynch! He’s a dangerous man, Jenny. And you pay attention, too, Meg. He’s wanted for eight murders in California. Eight! He’s a cold-blooded killer, and you’re not to go anywhere near him again!”
Jenny started, “But, Jason . . .”
“No!” he shouted, cutting her off more firmly than he wished, but less vehemently than he felt. Damn that Lynch! Why did he have to choose Fury in which to stop over?
He remembered the gravy then, and finished pouring out his share. And when he looked up again, Jenny was close to tears. He reached to put his hand on her arm, but she snatched it away and said, “Don’t!”
He switched his attention to Megan. “What?”
“You’re terrible, Jason!” she said, shoving away from the table. “He was just lovely, really nice. There must be two Rafe Lynches, that’s what it is, and Jenny and I met the good one! He couldn’t possibly be a . . . a k-killer! He’s well-spoken and he told us about beating the storm into town, and—”
“And he has little crinkles at the corners of his eyes!” Jenny added, as if this was a sure and certain sign of sainthood. Now, Jason knew full well that if there was more than one Rafe Lynch, this wasn’t him. They had the real, honest-to-God Rafe Lynch setting up shop—now down the street, at the saloon—and he was a very bad man.
But in order to calm the girls, and also to avoid ruining a perfectly good meal, he decided to take the middle road. “All right. Maybe there is more than one Rafe Lynch. I’ll check it out first thing tomorrow morning. Everybody happy again?”
Megan scraped her chair back toward the table, and Jenny took the gravy boat from Jason’s hand. The situation was calmed, at least for the present.
However, it seemed that Jason was doomed to have a troubled suppertime. At just about the time that Jenny began to cut the apple pie into slices and serve it, the sound of arguing voices came to Jason’s ears, followed directly by a fist banging on the door. “Who in the hell . . . ?” he muttered as he rose and walked to the front door, after cautioning the girls to stay put.
The banging, which had kept up since it started, suddenly stopped as Jason opened the door to find Deputy Ward Wanamaker, fist cocked back and aimed directly at Matt MacDonald, whom he held by the collar. And who was also the last person Jason expected to find in Fury that day. Ward was a tall, string bean of a man and had about four inches on Matt, and Matt looked, well, afraid.
Without taking his fist down, Ward said, “I already told him about twenty times that we ain’t got no jurisdiction out at his place, but he kept shoutin’ as how he wanted to talk to somebody in authority, not no stupid deputy. And so I brung him here. This here’s the highest authority in Fury, Matthew,” he added, punctuating the statement with a shake of Matt’s collar that rattled the man’s teeth.
Once again, Jason pulled on the cloak of peacemaker. “Let go of him, Ward.”
Ward gradually loosened his grip and lowered his punching arm, and for just a second, Jason thought that Matt was going to rabbit. But he didn’t. With a glare of unadulterated rage painting his features, he snarled, “I imagine you’re gonna be as useless as usual?”
“If you got problems out at your place, you’re right,” Jason said. “What is it this time?”
“My cattle, godammit! Somebody stole two of my cattle!”
“Sorry to hear that, Matt.”
“You’re not sorry at all! You’ve got it in for anything or anybody attached to me, and I swear, I—”
“You swear what, Matthew?” asked Megan, who had just appeared at Jason’s side, her napkin in her hand.
Matt simply stood there, boiling, and then he snapped, “You get yourself home, young lady, or there’ll be hell to pay, you understand?”
“Don’t move, Megan,” Jason said quietly.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” she replied in the same light tone.
Matt glared daggers at her before he turned on his heel and marched, glowering, down the steps and across the yard to the street, where he turned and shook his fist. “I won’t forget this, Fury!”
“I s’pose he wants to rename the town ‘MacDonald, ’ too,” Ward quipped.
Matt disappeared around the corner.
“He can be my guest,” Jason said before he gathered himself and looked up at Ward. “What about his cattle, anyway?”
“Says somebody’s swiped two of ’em. You ask me, it’s a puma, or maybe a Mexican grizzly.”
Ward was probably right. They both stood there, heads shaking, until Jason said, “You want somethin’ to eat? Jenny did it again. Fried chicken and mashed, with gravy. Green beans. And pie?”
“Don’t have to keep yammerin’ at me, jus’ git outta the way!” Grinning, Jason stepped aside and Ward walked past him, hollering, “Hey, Jenny! Set another plate, ’cause a man with a powerful appetite’s comin’ to supper!”
He heard Jenny laugh as Ward disappeared into the kitchen. He turned back to Megan, who was vacantly watching the empty road.
“Megan,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
She held up her hand, quieting him. “It’s all right. I know he’s a jackass. I’ve known it for quite a while, now. But he’s my brother and I have to accept it. You don’t, thank God. Now, let’s go have some’a that apple pie!” She linked her arm through his and led him back to the kitchen, where Ward was already gobbling down fried chicken
