“You sure look a sight.”
Recognizing that as a compliment, Sarah smiled and held out a hand. With as much style as he could muster, Lucius helped her into the wagon.
“You’re going to set them on their ears.”
“I hope so.” At least she hoped she set one person on his ear. “You’re going to save a dance for me, aren’t you, Lucius?”
“I’d be pleased to. If I do say so, I dance right well, drunk or sober.”
“Perhaps you’ll try it sober tonight.”
Jake saw them ride into town. He was sitting at his window, smoking and watching some of the cowboys racing in the streets, waving their hats, shooting off guns and howling.
Independence Day, he thought, blowing smoke at the sky. Most of them figured they had a right to freedom and the land they’d claimed. He’d come to accept that they, and others like them, would take the Arizona Territory and the rest of the West. Black Hawk, and others like him, would never stop the rush.
And he was neither invader nor invaded.
Maybe that was why he had never tried to put his mark on the land. Not since he’d lost what his father had tried to build. It was better to keep whatever you owned light, light enough that it fit on your horse.
The town was full of noise and people. Most of the cowhands were going to get three-quarters drunk, and they were liable to end up shooting themselves instead of the targets Cody had set up for the marksmanship contest. He didn’t much care. He just sat at the window and watched.
Then he saw her. It hurt. Unconsciously he rubbed a hand over his heart, where the ache centered. She laughed. He could hear the sound float right up to him and shimmer like water over his skin. The wanting, the pure strength of it, made him drag his eyes away. For survival.
But he looked back, unable to stop himself. She stepped out of the wagon and laughed again as Liza Cody ran out of her father’s store. She twirled in a circle for Liza, and he saw all of her, the white skin of her throat, the hint of high, round breasts, the tiny waist, the glow in her eyes. The cigarette burned down to his fingers, and he cursed. But he didn’t stop looking. “You going to sit in the window all day or take me down like you promised?” Maggie came farther into the room, her hands on her hips. The boy hadn’t heard a word. She tugged on his shoulder, ignored the name he called her and repeated herself.
“I never promised to do anything.”
“You promised, all right, the night I poured you into that bed when you came in so drunk you couldn’t stand.”
He remembered the night clearly enough. It had been a week after he’d brought Sarah back from the mountains. A week since he’d been going to the Silver Star, trying to work up enough interest to take Carlotta or any other woman to bed. Drinking had been simpler, but getting blind drunk was something he’d never done before and didn’t intend to do again.
“I could have gotten myself into bed well enough.”
“You couldn’t even crawl up the stairs. If there’s one thing I know, it’s a man who’s too drunk to think. Now, are you going to take me down or are you going to back down?”
He grumbled but pushed himself away from the window. “Nothing worse than a nagging woman.”
She only grinned and handed him his hat.
They had no more than stepped outside when John Cody came racing up. “Mr. Redman. Mr. Redman.
I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Yeah?” He pulled the boy’s hat over his face.
“Why’s that?”
Delighted with the attention, Johnny grinned. “The contest. My pa’s having a contest. Best shooting gets a brand-new saddle blanket. A red one. You’re going to win, ain’t you?”
“I wasn’t figuring on it.”
“How come? Nobody shoots better’n you. It’s a real nice blanket, too.”
“Go on, Jake.” Maggie gave him a slap on the arm.
“The boy’s counting on you.”
“I don’t shoot for sport.” He meant to walk on, but he saw Johnny’s face fall. “A red blanket?”
The boy’s eyes lit instantly. “Yessiree, about the prettiest one I ever seen.”
“I guess we could look.” Before the sentence was complete, Johnny had him by the hand and was pulling him across the street.
At the back of the store Cody had set up empty bottles and cans of varying sizes. Each contestant stood behind a line drawn in the dirt and took his best six shots. Broken glass littered the ground already. “It costs two bits to enter,” Johnny told him. “I got a short bit if you need it.”
Jake looked at the dime the boy offered. The gesture touched him in a way that only those who had been offered very little through life would have understood. “Thanks, but I think I got two bits.”
“You can shoot better than Jim Carlson. He’s winning now.” Johnny glanced over to where Jim was showing off a fancy railman’s spin with his shiny new Smith amp; Wesson.44. “Can you do that?”
“Why? It doesn’t help you shoot any better.” He flipped a quarter to Johnny. “Why don’t you go put my name down?”
“Yessir. Yessiree.” He took time out to have a friendly shoving match with another boy, then raced away.
“Going to shoot for the blanket?” Lucius asked from behind him.
“Thinking about it.” But he was watching Jim
Carlson. He remembered that Jim rode a big white gelding. Jake had seen the gleam of a white horse riding away the night Sarah’s shed had burned.
Lucius tipped his hat to Maggie. “Ma’am.”
“That you, Lucius? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you with that beard shaved.”
He colored up and stepped away. “I guess a man can shave now and then without a body gawking at him.”
“I forgot you had a face under there,” Jake commented as he watched Will Metcalf hit four out of six bottles. “You looking for a new red blanket, too?” “Nope. Just thought I’d come around and tell you Hurt Donley rode into town.”
Only his eyes changed. “Is that so? I thought he was in Laramie.”
“Not anymore. He came this way while you were in New Mexico. Started working for Carlson.”
In an easy move, Jake turned and scanned the area behind him. “Donley doesn’t punch cattle.”
“Hasn’t been known to. Could be Carlson hired him to do something else.”
“Could be,” Jake murmured, watching Donley walk toward the crowd.
He was a big man, burly at the shoulders, thick at the waist. He wore his graying hair long, so long it merged with his beard. And he was fast. Jake had good reason to know just how fast. If the law hadn’t stepped in two years before, one of them would be dead now. “Heard you had some trouble a while back.”
“Some.” Through the crowd, Jake’s eyes met Donley’s.
They didn’t need words. There was unfinished business between them.
As she stood beside Liza, Sarah watched Jake. And shivered. Something had come into his eyes. Something cold and deadly and inevitable. Then the crowd roared when the next contestant shattered all six bottles. “Oh, look.” Liza gave Sarah a quick shake.
“Jake’s going to shoot. I know it’s wrong, but I’ve always wanted to see how he does it. You hear such stories. There was one-” Her mouth fell open when he drew his right hand and fired.
“I didn’t even see him take it out,” she whispered.
“It was just in his hand, quick as a blink.”
“He hit them all.” Sarah wrapped her shawl tighter around her. He had hardly moved. His gun was still smoking when he slid it back in place.
Donley strode over, flipped a quarter and waited until more targets were set. Sarah watched his big hand curl over the butt of his gun. Then he drew and fired.
“Goodness. He hit all of them, too. That leaves Dave Jeffrey, Jim Carlson, Jake and Burt Donley.” “Who is he?” she asked, wondering why Jake looked like he wanted to kill him. “The big man in the leather vest.”
