After Sundown (10 page)

“Well, come back later,” he told her in a low voice. “She’s sleeping.” When he glanced toward the cell, he realized it was too late. His prisoner was already awake.

Antoinette’s brow furrowed in puzzlement as she looked at the extra blankets that had materialized over her. With an expression of surprise, she lifted her gaze to his.

“Oh, poor dear!” The gaggle’s ringleader hustled into the sitting room, setting down the basket she carried. “Are you all right, lamb?”

“Wait a minute.” Lucas moved to block the open doorway of the cell before any of them could go any further. “I haven’t said you could—”

“What sort of rig
is
this he’s got fixed up here?” The blue-hatted woman frowned as she looked past him, squinting at the bars on the windows. She turned a glare on Lucas, looking like a mama snapping turtle protecting her nest. “He didn’t hurt you, did he, Annie?”

“No, Rebecca, I’m all right.”

Lucas belatedly started pulling on his shirt. “She’s perfectly fine, as you can see for yourself.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves, missing on the first try. He wasn’t used to having a feminine audience when he got dressed in the morning. “As for visiting, Rebecca—”

“
You
can call me Mrs. Greer.” She planted one hand on her prodigious hip and gestured at the other ladies in turn. “This is Mrs. Owens and Miss Lazarillo. We’ve brung Annie some food and necessities. Someone has to take care of her—”

“
I
will be taking care of her.” Lucas realized he had just buttoned his shirt in the wrong holes. “You intend to help her escape.”

“Surely, Marshal, you don’t think we could break through solid iron bars?” Mrs. Owens asked coolly.

Lucas recognized her as Holt’s nurse. She was about twenty-five, with the genteel look and mild voice of a Southern belle—and a sharp intelligence in her eyes. “I never thought she’d be able to fool people into trusting her, either, ma’am. But it seems I was wrong about that.” He glowered at them as he finally got his shirt buttoned up respectably. “I worked damned hard—sorry,” he amended with an apologetic glance at Miss Lazarillo, who only looked to be about sixteen. “I worked hard to find Antoinette Sutton, and I am
not
going to let her get away.”

Mrs. Greer squinted up at him. “If anything happens to this girl, you ornery critter—”

“This
girl
is an outlaw. And while she’s in my custody, she’ll be treated the same as any other outlaw. Nothing will happen to her. She’s my prisoner, my responsibility.”

A soft sound came from Antoinette’s cell. All of them turned.

“Annie?” Mrs. Owens asked worriedly. “Are you all right?”

Antoinette had closed her eyes again, one hand pressed to her ribs. “The... last of the... laudanum’s worn off.”

Lucas felt his gut knot up, seeing her in pain.

Stop it
, he told himself.
Stop feeling pity or anything else for her
. It was probably another trick. The bunch of them had probably put their heads together last night and cooked up this whole thing. “I suppose you want the doctor?”

She shook her head on the pillow. “No, I... think I’d better keep... the two of you apart.”

Lucas arched one brow in surprise. “Probably smart,” he agreed. “Don’t count on him or any of these ladies helping you escape, Antoinette. Even if you could—which you can’t—I doubt you’d live long.”

“There’s no need to threaten her, Marshal.” Mrs. Owens glared at him.

“It’s not a threat, ma’am. Just passing along some information you folks may have been unaware of, up here in the mountains. There’s a five-thousand-dollar bounty on her head.”

“
Five... thousand?
” Antoinette gasped.

“Offered by my brother’s widow,” he informed her. “And it’s five thousand dead or alive. You might keep that in mind when you’re thinking about how much you want to get out of here. Every bounty hunter in ten states is looking for you. And some of them aren’t as nice as me.”

“You’re... telling me I’m... safer here, with you?”

Even in pain, Antoinette still had that hint of steel he had noticed last night. And a hint of sarcasm.

“Yeah,” he bit out. “You’re safer here, with me.”

“Well, the poor lamb has to eat,” Mrs. Greer insisted, picking up her basket.

“And I brought
mi madre’s
special ointment,” young Miss Lazarillo added, holding up a clay jar. “For her hurts.”

“
I
will take care of her,” Lucas insisted.

“Does that mean you intend to change her bandages?” Mrs. Owens asked.

“And help her wash and get dressed each day, too?” Miss Lazarillo inquired, her mouth forming a round, shocked “O.”

Lucas folded his arms, realizing they had a point. He already felt like he’d become too intimate with Antoinette. It was hard enough just talking to her, looking at her. The less physical contact he had with his prisoner, the better.

“All right,” he relented, “she can have visitors. But only one at a time—”

“But we all came to see her,” Mrs. Greer complained.

“My jail, my rules,” he said flatly. “If you can’t abide by them, the front door’s right there. One visitor at a time, no more than twice a day. And I’ll need to search any packages you bring in.” He took the basket from Mrs. Greer’s hands, lifting the hinged top to look inside.

The sight and scents of a pie pan full of hot griddle cakes covered with melted butter, of bacon and biscuits and fried apples and a jar of honey almost made him feel light-headed with hunger. “No sharp objects,” he said, hoping they couldn’t hear his stomach growling. “Nothing that she might use as a weapon.” He confiscated a knife and fork. And a biscuit.

“Annie wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Mrs. Greer frowned at him as he plundered her foodstuffs. “Or even a bigger, meaner sort of critter.”

“So you’ve told me.” He handed the basket over and bit into the biscuit. Which turned out to be a damned fine biscuit. And it didn’t have any files baked into it. He wolfed it down in two gulps, motioning for Mrs. Owens to give him the bundle of clothes she held.

He untied the fabric knotted around it and discovered that Antoinette’s friends had brought her some new undergarments and, thank God, more substantial clothes to wear: woolen skirts and plain blouses, a shawl, a flannel nightgown.

After handing the clothes back to Mrs. Owens, he tipped open the lid of the earthenware pot in Miss Lazarillo’s hands, wrinkling his nose at the fragrant, clear oil inside. “So which one of you is going to be this morning’s visitor?” he asked.

“Me,” Mrs. Greer said.

“Fine. I... uh...” Lucas turned toward her, feeling sheepish all of a sudden, like he was eight years old and facing his schoolmarm. “I’m also going to have to search you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Greer tilted her head to one side, looking like some fluttery, blue-headed bird. “But you just did.”

“I mean search your
person
, ma’am. For all I know, you could be concealing a pistol that you’re smuggling in for her.”

“Why... why you catawamptious coyote!” The lady blinked as if the idea had never occurred to her. The others both started chattering at once.

“
Señora
Greer would not
do
such a thing,” Miss Lazarillo said.

“How do I know that?” he asked.

“You are
the
most suspicious man I ever met.” Mrs. Owens’s tone was icy.

“Goes with the job, ma’am.”

Mrs. Greer squinted at him—it was her fierce squint; he was already learning to tell them apart—then gave her basket to Mrs. Owens and raised her hands, a dramatic gesture of surrender accompanied by an equally dramatic sigh. “Very well then, Marshal, do your job.”

Lucas made it quick, checking her voluminous sleeves, and her hips, where any hidden pockets in her underskirts might be. After he patted her bustle, he decided to leave it at that. “Uh, you’re fine to go in, ma’am.”

She had turned red as a beet. “Well, of course I am!” she blustered, brushing at her gown as if to rid herself of his touch. “Land sakes, of all the... I have never...” She turned toward the door that led out to the hotel’s main room. “Travis Ballard! I
thought
I’d find you here!”

Travis had just entered the sitting room with a few sticks of firewood under his arm, which he dropped on the floor as he just about jumped out of his boots. “Mrs. Greer? What are you...”

The kid’s gaze landed on Miss Lazarillo, and he seemed to forget whatever else he was going to say. He flushed a shade of red that rivaled Mrs. Greer’s, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down twice before he managed to utter another word. “H-Howdy, Valentina.”

The Mexican girl lowered her lashes, smiling shyly. “
Buenos días
, Travis.”

Lucas hadn’t noticed before now, but the young lady was about the same age as his would-be deputy. And rather pretty.

Mrs. Greer stalked over and pointed an accusing finger at the boy. “Are you helpin’ this here varmint on purpose?”

“Varmint?” Travis blinked as if he had forgotten anyone else was in the room. “Who? I... uh...” He looked helplessly at Lucas.

“He’s working for me,” Lucas said to rescue the kid.

“Hmph. I thought as much.” Mrs. Greer promptly turned her back, giving Travis a cold shoulder. “Don’t you be bothered comin’ back to my store, boy. You’re fired!”

“What? Why? What did I do?” Travis looked stricken—and embarrassed to be fired right in front of Miss Lazarillo.

Mrs. Greer didn’t bother to explain. She hustled the other two ladies out with the efficiency of a field general directing troops, then gathered up all the items the women had brought. “So, Marshal McKenna, do you intend to let me in to see Annie or not?”

“I’ll give you half an hour, ma’am.” Lucas stepped out of the way to allow her into Antoinette’s cell. “And I’ll be right outside. And I’ve got the hearing of a”—he searched for an appropriate comparison—“a big, mean sort of critter,” he said dryly. “You might want to keep all that in mind.”

Mrs. Greer squinted at him as she entered the cell—the squint of extreme dislike. “Hmph.”

Lucas decided to grant the two women some privacy since there might be some changing of bandages or clothes or whatnot taking place. He pulled on his boots and followed Travis, who had retreated into the hotel’s main room.

The kid was at the front window, watching the other womenfolk depart, his nose practically pressed up against the glass. “You think Val—Miss Lazarillo will be comin’ back? I don’t never get to see her. Her pa don’t like me much.”

“Apparently they’ll
all
be coming back.” Lucas sank onto a stool behind the hotel’s front desk. “Daily.” He rested his head in his hands for a moment, his fingers plowed through his hair.

Two weeks
, he told himself. Antoinette would be ready to move in two weeks. He could endure this for two weeks.

Travis came over to the desk. “Marshal, sir... did you mean what you said to Mrs. Greer? ’Bout me working for you?”

Lucas shrugged, looking up. “You said it yourself last night, kid. You’re a little young to be a deputy.”

“But we don’t have to
call
it that, sir. I could be, say, a... an apprentice. You’ll be needin’ somebody to fetch firewood and get provisions and keep the place swept up an’ all, won’t you?”

Lucas considered the idea. It would be good to have some help with the chores. He sure as hell wasn’t much of a housekeeper.

And if he had to put up with that trio of females fluttering in and out, it might be good to have a little male company around, too. Especially company that didn’t glare or squint at him. “Can your pa spare you?”

“Hell, sir, we don’t get but one stage through here a week. And not many riders come to town anymore.” Travis flicked a hand in the general direction of the stables. “Livery ain’t real lively these days.”

“Can’t promise things’ll be much more lively around here,” Lucas warned him. “Being a lawman can be near as boring as mucking out stalls sometimes. And I couldn’t pay you much. Maybe... two bits a day.”

“That’s plenty, Marshal McKenna, sir! Tarnation, for a chance to work with you, I’d...” The kid looked as happy as a bear cub up a honey tree. “Why, I’d pay you, sir!”

Lucas felt a rare grin tug at one corner of his mouth. “Consider yourself hired, kid, at the rate of two bits a day. Your first job is to go rustle up some breakfast and coffee.” He fished a silver dollar out of his pocket and tossed it in the air.

“Yes, sir!” Travis caught it with one hand, his smile rivaling the coin for brightness as he headed out.

While the door closed, Lucas remained sitting where he was, stomach growling. He glanced back toward the suite where his prisoner was no doubt enjoying a breakfast feast served up with tender loving care. God Almighty, he thought tiredly, if his deputies could see him now...

They’d be laughing until they couldn’t stand up, enjoying every minute of this—the fearsome L. T. McKenna of Indian Territory being cussed out and chased away by a gray-haired little lady in a ridiculous blue hat.

He frowned ruefully, scratching his jaw, wondering how his men were doing. Where they were, how close they had gotten to hunting down the Risco brothers—a ruthless pair whose gang counted train robbery, kidnapping, and murder among their life’s accomplishments.

Lucas had arrested one of the gang in a whorehouse in Red River back in July. With a little pressure applied to his gunshot leg, Hughes had sung like the proverbial canary and named several hideouts in New Mexico Territory and Texas favored by Jasper and Willie Risco. After two years of work, Lucas and his deputies were so damned close...

And as soon as he was done cooling his heels here, and Antoinette was permanently behind bars in Missouri, he could finish the job.

The hotel’s front door opened and Lucas glanced up, surprised that his new apprentice was so quick and efficient.

But it wasn’t Travis who entered. “Marshal McKenna, good day to you, sir!”

The cheerful voice belonged to the banker, Cyrus Hazelgreen, who wore a wide grin, a bowler hat, and a three-piece suit with an expensive gold watch dangling from the vest. He was accompanied by two men: a red-haired, slim fellow whom Lucas recognized as one of the saloonkeepers he’d tried to question yesterday, and a barrel-chested man he didn’t know, dressed all in black.