Nora Roberts: Lawless

He tipped his chair back against the wall. “See plenty I like.”

She laughed and lifted a hand in a subtle signal. “You going to buy me a drink, Jake?” Before he could answer, one of the girls was bringing over a new bottle and a glass. No watered-down liquor for Carlotta. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Haven’t been around.”

Carlotta took a drink and let it sweep through her system. She’d take liquor over a man any day. “Going to stay around?”

“Might.”

“Heard there was a little trouble on the stage yesterday. It’s not like you to do good deeds, Jake.” She drank again and smiled at him. In a movement as smooth as the liquor she drank, she dropped a hand to his thigh. “That’s what I like about you.”

“Just happened to be there.”

“Also heard Matt Conway’s daughter’s in town.”

Smiling, she took the cigar from him and took a puff.

“You working for her?”

“Why?”

“Word around is that you drove her on out to his place.” She slowly blew out a stream of smoke from between her painted lips. “Can’t see you digging in rock for gold, Jake, when it’s easier just to take it.”

“Far as I remember, there was never enough gold in that rock to dig for.” He took the cigar back and clamped it between his teeth. “You know different?”

“I only know what I hear, and I don’t hear much about Conway.” She poured a second drink and downed it. She didn’t want to talk about Matt Conway’s mine or about what she knew. Something in the air tonight, she decided. Made her restless. Maybe she needed more than whiskey after all. “Glad you’re back, Jake. Things have been too quiet around here.”

Two men hankering after the same girl started to scuffle. Carlotta’s tall black servant tossed them both out. She just smiled and poured a third drink. “If you’re not interested in any of my girls, we could make other arrangements.” She lifted the small glass in a salute before she knocked it back. “For old times’ sake.”

Jake looked at her. Her eyes glittered against her white skin. Her lips were parted. Above the flaming red of her dress, her breasts rose and fell invitingly. He knew what she could do to a man, with a man, when the mood was on her. It baffled and infuriated him that she didn’t stir him in the least.

“Maybe some other time.” He rose and, after dropping a few coins on the table, strolled out.

Carlotta’s eyes hardened as she watched him. She only offered herself to a privileged few. And she didn’t like to be rejected.

With the puppy snoozing at her feet, Sarah closed her father’s journal. He’d written about an Indian attack on the wagon train and his own narrow escape.

In simple, often stark terms, he’d written of the slaughter, the terror and the waste. Yet even after that he’d gone on, because he’d wanted to make something of himself. For her.

Shivering a bit despite her shawl, she rose to replace the book beneath the stone. If she had read those words while still in Philadelphia, she would have thought them an exaggeration. She was coming to know better.

With a half sigh, she looked down at her hands. They were smooth and well tended. They were, she was afraid, woefully inadequate to the task of carving out a life here.

It was only the night that made her feel that way, Sarah told herself as she moved to check the bolt on the door. She’d done all she could that day, and it had been enough. She’d driven to town alone, stocked the cabin and replanted the vegetable garden. Her back ached enough to tell her she’d put in a full day. Tomorrow she’d start again.

The lonely howl of a coyote made her heart thud. Gathering the puppy to her breast, she climbed up for bed.

She was in her night shift when the dog started to bark and growl. Exasperated, she managed to grab him before he could leap from the loft.

“You’ll break your neck.” When he strained against her hold and continued to yelp, she took him in her arms. “All right, all right. If you have to go out, I’ll let you out, but you might have let me know before I went to bed.” Nuzzling him, she climbed down from the loft again. She saw the fire through the window and ran to the door. “Oh, my God.”

The moment she yanked it open the puppy ran out, barking furiously. With her hands to her cheeks, Sarah watched the fire rise up and eat at the old, dry wood of the shed. A scream, eerily like a woman’s, pierced the night.

Her father’s horses. Following instinct alone, she ran.

The horses were already wild-eyed, stamping and screaming in their stalls. Muttering a prayer, Sarah dragged the first one out and slapped its flank. The fire was moving fast, racing up the walls and onto the roof. The hay had already caught and was burning wildly. Eyes stinging from the smoke, she groped her way to the second stall. Coughing, swearing, she fought the terrified horse as it reared and shoved against her. Then she screamed herself when a flaming plank fell behind her. Fire licked closer and closer to the hem of her shift.

Whipping off her shawl, she tossed it over the horse’s eyes and dragged them both out of the shed. Blinded by smoke, she crawled to safety. Behind her she could hear the walls collapse, could hear the roar of flames consuming wood. Gone. It was gone. She wanted to beat her fists in the dirt and weep. It could spread. The terror of that had her pushing up onto her hands and knees. Somehow she had to prevent the fire from spreading. She caught the sound of a horse running hard and had nearly gained her feet when something slammed into her.

The night was clear, with a sharp-edged half-moon and white pinpoint stars. Jake rode easily, arguing with himself.

It was stupid, just plain stupid, for him to be heading out when he could be snuggled up against Carlotta right this minute. Except Carlotta didn’t snuggle. What she did was more like devouring. With her, sex was fast and hot and uncomplicated. After all, business was business.

At least he knew what Carlotta was and what to expect from her. She used men like poker chips. That was fine with Jake. Carlotta wouldn’t expect posies or boxes of chocolates or Sunday calls.

Sarah Conway was a whole different matter. A woman like that wanted a man to come courting wearing a stiff collar. And probably a tie. He snorted and kicked his mount into a trot. You’d have to see that your boots were shined so you could sit around making fancy talk. With her, sex would be…

He swore viciously, and the mustang pricked up his ears. You didn’t have sex with a woman like that. You didn’t even think about it. And even if you did…

Well, he just wasn’t interested.

So what the hell was he doing riding out to her place in the middle of the night?

“Stupid,” he muttered to his horse.

Overhead, a nighthawk dived and killed with hardly a sound. Life was survival, and survival meant ruthessness.

Jake understood that, accepted it. But Sarah… He shook his head. Survival to her was making sure her ribbons matched her dress.

The best thing he could do was to turn around now and head back to town. Maybe ride right on through town and go down to Tombstone for a spell. He could pick up a job there if he had a mind to. Better yet, he could travel up to the mountains, where the air was cool and smelled of pine. There wasn’t anything or anyone holding him in Lone Bluff. He was a free agent, and that was the way he intended to stay. But he didn’t turn his horse around.

When he got back from the mountains, he mused- if he got back-Miss Sarah Conway, with her big brown eyes and her white shoulders, would be long gone. Just plain stubbornness was keeping her here now, anyway. Even stubbornness had to give way sometime. If she was gone, maybe he’d stop having this feeling that he was about to make a big mistake. As far as he could see, the biggest mistakes men made were over three things-money, whiskey and women. None of the three had ever meant enough to him to worry or fight over. He didn’t plan on changing that.