Five
Without hurry, he strode down the street as though he owned the very dust that his boot heels kicked up.
—From Tex Knight and the Devil’s Rope
by Andrea Jackson
Andrea couldn’t believe that he was actually allowing her to accompany him. Considering the various ways he’d attempted to discourage her this morning, she wasn’t quite sure if she should trust him now.
She wanted to ask where they were going and what they were going to do when they got there, but based on his unwillingness to share even the most mundane of facts with her, she decided peppering him with questions would only increase the tension radiating from him and possibly result in their returning to his office before she’d had an opportunity to observe anything of interest.
So she walked beside him . . . and periodically came to a stop so he could catch up. How could a man with such long legs walk so dang slow? It was obvious that he was a stranger to impatience, and she supposed that was a good thing in a lawman.
“In here,” he said when they reached the general store.
“What are we going to do here?” she asked.
His mustache twitched. “You’re the most question-asking person I’ve ever met.”
“If you’d willingly carry on a conversation, I wouldn’t have to prod you with questions.”
“I need some supplies.”
She sighed. Supplies. Specific was obviously not in the man’s vocabulary.
He held the door open, and she preceded him inside. It was typical of a general store, offering almost everything a person could think of.
“Morning, Matt,” the man behind the counter said.
“Tom. This here’s Miss Jackson—”
“The writer?” Tom asked, perking up. He came out from around the corner, wiping his hands on the white apron that circled his substantial girth. “I heard you were in town, and gonna write a story featuring the sheriff here. I’ll tell you there ain’t a finer man in all of—”
“Tom?” the sheriff barked.
Tom peered over at him. “Yes, sir?”
“She doesn’t need to hear all that. We’re just here for a lock.”
“Back of the store, bottom shelf.” Tom turned back to her. “Ma’am, it is an honor and a privilege to have you in my store. I have one of your books over here, just waiting to be bought. Would you like to see it?”
“I’m sure she’s seen her books,” the sheriff said.
She scowled at him. “It’s always exciting to actually see one in a store.” She turned back to Tom. “I’d love for you to show it to me.”
“Right this way.”
She glanced back at the sheriff. “Holler at me when you’ve got all your supplies.”
She fell into step beside Tom. “Do you sell a good many dime novels?”
“Yes, ma’am, especially when the cattle drives come through.” He stopped at a shelf on the far side of the counter and puffed out his chest. “Right there, ma’am.”
She had a sneaking suspicion that he’d moved her book to the top of the stack as soon as he’d heard she was in town on the off chance that she might just happen to come through.
“Do you know yet what you’re going to write about Matt? What kind of story it’ll be?”
She shook her head. “Right now the idea is just a seed.” Glancing back over her shoulder, she couldn’t see the sheriff. She’d promised him only that she wouldn’t ask the townsfolk questions about him. She turned back to Tom. “I’m trying to gather some information about the day the bank robbers came through.”
Tom shook his head like a buffalo on the range. “It was a sad day in this town. They killed Josh Logan before anyone knew what was going on. They came out of the bank shooting, guess they figured to scare people off, so they could hightail it out of town. But Matt didn’t hesitate. He just rushed toward ’em, rifle ablazing. Don’t know how he managed to be so accurate considering he was sick as a dog that day.”
“Sick?”
“Yes, ma’am. Saw him out behind the bank some time later, shaking like he had a terrible fever, puking up his insides, something violent. I fetched the doc right away. He couldn’t do nothing for the dead men, thought he needed to see—”
“We had a bargain.”
Rage slithered through the voice that had spoken, nearly stopping Andrea’s heart. Considering that Tom had gone as white as a sheet and was pressing his fist against his chest, she had a feeling that he felt the same way.
She twirled around, then stepped back. The sheriff’s anger was palpable, and it was terrifying to be on the receiving end of that heated glare.
“I gave you my word that I wouldn’t ask any questions about you, and I didn’t. I asked about the bank robbery,” she said, amazed that her voice came out as calmly as it did.
“You’re splitting hairs.”
“I need information that you’re not willing to give.”
“You’re morbid. Feeding on the misfortune of others. There’s no story here. I’m no hero. I told you that. Three men rode into town intent on taking money from the bank. Four men died. End of story. No happy ending.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Tom, tally up my expenses so I can get about my business.”
“Matt, I don’t think she meant any harm,” Tom said.
“Doesn’t matter if she meant harm or not. I’ve got a job to do, and I need those supplies to do it, so if you’ll please add what I owe you to my account, I’d be much obliged.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tom bustled over to get behind the counter. Matt’s gaze still had Andrea pinned to the spot.
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I might have been a bit deceptive.”
“A bit?”
“I’m not going to write anything that will embarrass you.”
“Lady, you don’t know me well enough to know what will embarrass me.”
“Exactly!” she shouted. “Exactly the reason why I want to get to know you. But you keep giving me these cryptic answers, thinking that you’re going to discourage me, and all you’re going to do is make me dig in deeper.”
She took a step toward him, raised up on her toes until she could gaze directly into his eyes. She saw his startlement, and it emboldened her.
“Sheriff, you don’t know me well enough to know how to effectively get rid of me. But if you’re a man who thrives on failure, keep doing what you’re doing. I guarantee you’ll fail.”
Marching past him, she glanced over at Tom, whose jaw looked to have come unhinged. “Thank you, Tom.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then she went on out the door with her head held high and her tears held back. In the past few months she’d become a master at holding back those tears.
When Matt walked out of the general store, Andrea was still standing on the boardwalk, her arms crossed over her chest, hurt, anger and stubbornness clearly mirrored in her eyes. If anything was going to send her running, it would have been the exchange between them that had taken place inside the store. Strange thing was, seeing her anger had defused his. If anything, it intrigued him.
He thought events in his life had made him tough. Something in her life had made her even tougher.
He held up the sack. “I’m going over to Josh Logan’s house. Most folks around here don’t have locks on their doors, and I figured since Mrs. Logan was going to be gone a spell, I ought to make sure that her house is secure from intruders. So I bought some locks and nails. I figure I’ll find a hammer there. I’m going to walk down this boardwalk until it ends. Then I’m going to take a right and head up the road until I get to her house. Probably about a good ten-minute trek. Then I’ll secure the house and walk back to my office where I have some papers that I need to look at.”
As far as peace offerings went, it wasn’t much, but it was all he had.
Her mouth twitched, and a sparkle returned to her green, green eyes, as though she recognized that apologies were foreign to him. He had a powerful urge to draw her into his arms and latch his mouth onto hers until the sun set and the moon rose.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” she said.
“I won’t put you off any longer. I’ll answer your questions, if you give me your word that you won’t ask anyone about me or that day.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying him as though she thought she could decipher exactly why he was so set on her not bothering the folks. She finally relented. “I give you my word.”
“And no splitting hairs, trying to ask a question because I wasn’t specific enough with the rules I was laying down.”
She nodded. “No splitting hairs. And I owe you an apology—”
“Yeah, you do.”
She angled her chin. “Are you going to let me finish?”
“Do I have a choice?”
The corner of her luscious mouth tipped up higher. “I owe you an apology for attempting to get around my promise.”
“All right,” he said brusquely, so she wouldn’t get the impression that she’d gained more advantage than he wanted, “now that we’ve delivered all our apologies, can we get moving?”
“Certainly, Sheriff. Down to the end of the boardwalk, then to the right. I’m more than happy to oblige.”
They headed down the boardwalk, greeting people they passed, as if everything was normal, as if his stomach wasn’t knotting up as he wondered what might happen if she ever wrote her story.
He didn’t know many women who were as straightforward as she was, women who didn’t back down. He didn’t particularly like that he found himself admiring her. Respect, trust, caring . . . they were pitfalls that could lead a man into confessing his sins.