Judith Stacy - Outlaw Love

Deuce ducked his head and hurried into the stable.

Kelsey shuddered. She wouldn’t want the wrath of Ben Tucker aimed at her.

“Now, what’s the problem here?”

“No problem,” Kelsey replied. “I’m just in a small hurry. I was hoping you could take care of her first thing.”

Ben ran his hand down the horse’s neck, studying the animal. “I’ll have the boy bring her back when I’m done.”

“Thanks.” With a sigh of relief, Kelsey hurried back to the hotel. Etta Mae would arrive soon, and she didn’t want to explain why she was out so early. She couldn’t be too careful. Not with a federal marshal living under her roof.

Clay bounded up the front steps of the hotel, feeling better than he had in a week, the night in a real bed and the bath he’d just had accounting largely for his good mood. The smell of food reminded him of his gnawing belly, since he’d elected to have a supper of beer at the Watering Hole last night.

In the dining room, morning sunlight filtered through the ruffled curtains, brightening the white linen and silverware laid out on the tables. Every eye in the crowded room turned Clay’s way as he sauntered to a table at the rear and sat down with his back to the wall. He dropped his Stetson in the chair beside him and gazed out the window.

The town appeared prosperous, with a number of shops doing a brisk business already. Wagons, buggies and horses moved along the dirt street. Women with small children, miners, men wearing suits with guns strapped to their thighs all moved along the boardwalk. Eldon seemed like a good town. Clay thought, growing, clean. A place a man could settle in, raise a family in, grown old in.

Annoyed with his thoughts, Clay turned away from the window. He needed a cup of coffee. The door from the kitchen swung open, and the serving girl swept into the room, balancing a tray of steaming food on one hand. It smelled delicious. Then an- other scent tickled his nose, and it took only a second for him to recall it from the night before. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized Kelsey Rodgers under that tray.

She’d seemed bigger last night, when she doused him with water, set his nerves on end mopping his trousers and tried to have him sleep in the street. Now, seeing her in the morning light, he realized she stood just a shave above his elbow. Her features were delicate. She was like a finely crafted china doll, with big, expressive green eyes and light brown hair. She bent to set the plates of food on the table beside him, and he saw the fullness of her breasts pressing against the tiny row of buttons up the front of her soft green dress. Clay’s belly tightened. He hadn’t realized last night how pretty she was, either.

He watched as she turned and her gaze swept the room with a critical eye, then came to rest on him. He saw the sharp intake of her breath, and his belly coiled again.

“Good morning, Marshal.” Kelsey stopped beside his chair and put on a bright smile.

Certain she gave that smile to every diner who took a seat at one of her tables, Clay sat back in his chair and gazed up at her. “Let me guess—the kitchen just closed.”

Her brows drew together. “No.”

“The cook dropped dead?”

She shook her head. “The cook’s fine.”

“You ran out of eggs.”

“No…” Kelsey realized he was teasing her for claiming the hotel was too full to accommodate him last night.

“Out of steak?”

“No.”

“Ham?”

Kelsey looked pointedly at him. “Actually, it seems we have more ham than usual this morning.”

He grinned, and to his surprise, she giggled. It was a sweet, melodious sound.

From her pocket, Kelsey took a small tablet and a nub of a pencil. “What can I get you this morning?”

“’Two of everything.”

She nodded and worked her way back to the kitchen, checking with the other diners as she went. Clay gazed out the window until the scent of Kelsey and the food brought his attention back indoors. Efficiently she placed a heaping plate of steak, eggs, potatoes and biscuits in front of him and poured steaming-hot coffee into his cup. She went about her business, but Clay found his gaze drawn to her as she moved about the room. Lord, she was a pretty little thing.

“Excuse me, young man.”

Clay looked up from his plate to find a tiny gray-haired lady standing over him. “Yes, ma’am?” He moved to rise, but she waved him into his chair with her lace-gloved hand.

“Sit down, sit down. A young man your size needs a good morning meal.” She smiled sweetly at him.

He swiped the napkin across his mouth. “Care to join me?”

She smiled again, her lips drawing into a tight bow, and squeezed her eyes closed for a second. “Why, thank you.”

He’d noticed her when he came in, seated at the other end of the room, having a biscuit and a cup of tea; Clay made it his policy to notice everybody when he walked into a room.

The lady settled into the chair across from him, taking a few minutes to adjust her skirt and shuffle her big, open straw satchel onto her lap. It was crammed full of all sorts of items, Clay noted, as every old lady’s satchel was.

“My name is Miss Matilda Wilder.” She smiled at him and touched her hand to the tiny hat nestled atop her gray head.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m—”

She giggled softly and batted her lashes. “Oh, my, dear, I know who you are. Everyone in town knows. You’re the federal marshal sent to root out those awful outlaw gangs.”

Clay sipped at his coffee. “That’s right, Miss Wilder.”

She pulled a large flowered handkerchief from her satchel and waved it at him. “I just want to tell you how happy we are to have you in our town. It’s about time somebody did something to make our streets safe again.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Miss Wilder sat back in her chair and smiled proudly at him, as if he’d just recited a poem at the school play. She dropped her handkerchief on the table. “You’re a fine young man. I know you’ll do a good job.”

Clay couldn’t help smiling. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Miss Wilder drew in a big breath. “Well, I’ll be on my way now. I’m going to write to San ford—he’s my nephew in Memphis—and tell him all about you. He’s been after me to move down with him, and he’ll be pleased to know Eldon has a fine young man like you on the job.”

“Nice meeting you, ma’am.”

Clay rose as she got slowly to her feet, gathered up her handkerchief and stuffed it inside her satchel. She waved and shuffled away. He took his seat again, wondering if everyone in town would be as glad to have him there as Miss Matilda Wilder seemed to be. He’d find out soon enough. A lot of questions needed to be asked in this town, and he intended to start on them this morning.

Absently he reached for the saltshaker as he mentally reviewed the list of things he had planned for today. His hand came up empty, and he looked across the table to see the pepper shaker sitting alone. Clay scratched his chin. He was certain he’d seen the salt there when he sat down.

Clay shrugged and turned back to his breakfast.

Peeping through the swinging door, Kelsey watched as Clay sat back in his chair and started eating again. She hadn’t slept a wink all night, worrying about him in her hotel. She had to find out just how long he’d be in town. She had plans to make—plans that definitely did not include a federal marshal sleeping over her head.

Her best smile in place, Kelsey glided through the restaurant, refilling coffee cups, until she came to Clay’s table. He looked different in the morning sun-tight. Not cast in dim shadows, or ready to be strung up, he appeared strong and sturdy. Handsome.