Daisies In The Wind Page 3

  He fervently hoped she was just passing through Powder Creek and not coming to visit for any length of time.

  With an effort Wolf dragged his eyes from her. He turned his attention to Slim and the shotgun rider, Raidy. “Is this lady right about what happened today?”

  Slim left the horses to lumber up beside him. The top of the driver’s shaggy head nearly reached the lawman’s shoulder. “Sure as you’re standin’ there, Sheriff,” he declared. “Four of ‘em tried to hold us up—this young lady shot two. Winged one of ‘em, but Scoop is shore dead. Nice shootin’, eh? Mebbe you should take her on as a deputy.”

  The remaining crowd guffawed with laughter. Bodine grinned, his eyes lightening suddenly. “Maybe I should.”

  Rebeccah gritted her teeth. Deputy? Over my dead body.

  Again his gaze burned a hole through her. “Would you like a badge, ma’am?” he drawled with a slow, lazy grin that would have melted her heart if Rebeccah had let it. Instead she steeled herself with every ounce of determination she possessed.

  “All I want is my reward, Sheriff,” she managed to bite out.

  He threw a quick glance at the dead man atop the coach, pulled himself up for a better look, and then nodded grimly to Slim and Raidy. It was Parmalee all right.

  Wolf jumped back down and ran a quick glance over the other passengers, who were waiting as if for permission to go on their way. “Anyone hurt?” he inquired.

  “Only that awful bandit, Sheriff,” the woman in black bombazine piped up. “This young lady saved our lives.”

  Wolf touched the tip of his hat. “Then I reckon she ought to get her reward,” he said. He took Rebeccah’s arm. “My office is down the street. Come sign some papers, answer some questions, and this business will be all wrapped up.”

  “Don’t worry, miss, I’ll set your bags inside the hotel till you’re ready to fetch ‘em,” Slim called after her as Wolf Bodine drew her along the boardwalk. “All you folks continuing on to Silver Bluff—we’ll take supper and head out in an hour’s time,” he announced, and turned toward the saloon.

  Ernest Duke’s distressed wail stopped both Slim and Wolf Bodine in their tracks.

  “H ... o ... ld on! Slim, you can’t go yet. Surely there must be more passengers. Where in blazes is she?” Ernest demanded, his black eyes nearly popping out of his head.

  “Where’s who, mayor?”

  “Miss Kellum—the new schoolteacher!” Myrtle Lee snapped.

  The driver snorted. “Oh, that one. Why, she caused me more trouble’n a pack of coyotes. She turned tail and ran after the holdup and shootin’ and all. Kicked up such a dust like you never did see. Had hysterics till I agreed to take her straight back to Helena. Reckon she’s headed back east where she come from.”

  “But ...” Myrtle sputtered. “That can’t be! We have a contract. Don’t we, Ernest?”

  The mayor scowled, thinking of the timid little wren of a schoolmarm he had interviewed a month ago in Philadelphia. She’d had such excellent credentials—too bad backbone wasn’t one of them. “What good is a contract without the damned teacher?” he grumbled in reply, and Waylon Pritchard threw his hat on the ground in fury and stomped on it.

  “Tarnation. Do you mean I wasted my entire afternoon as part of a welcoming committee for a teacher who ain’t comin’? If that don’t beat all!”

  “Sheriff, what’re we going to do now?” Mayor Duke demanded, as always turning to the one person he could count on to think clearly in a crisis.

  Bodine returned to the little group, regarding Ernest, Myrtle, and Waylon thoughtfully. The dark-haired young woman who’d shot Scoop Parmalee hung back, though she appeared to be listening intently.

  “It seems to me that if your Miss Kellum didn’t have the gumption to stick it out until she reached Powder Creek, she most likely wouldn’t have been much good for our youngsters anyway. We need someone with a little starch to them, as Caitlin always says.” A rueful smile touched Wolf’s lips. He shook his head. “I reckon we’ll have to start all over again until we find someone else. Maybe we could take out an advertisement in a newspaper.”

  “That’ll take time—meanwhiles we’ll have another winter with no schoolin’ for our young ‘uns,” Myrtle Lee snapped.

  Wolf fixed his cool gaze on her flushed, scowling face. “You could always teach ‘em yourself, Myrtle,” he suggested, another flash of humor lighting his eyes.

  “Me?” She shook a stubby finger in his face. “That’ll be the day. I raised six children and I don’t mind telling you I’ve had it up to here with every one of ‘em. No, thank you, sir! Now, Sheriff, be serious. I’d think you’d want to find someone educated proper, who could teach our kids what they’ll need to know to improve themselves, someone with enough patience and spirit to handle a rowdy bunch of young ‘uns too frisky for their own good —you, with a boy of your own, should want a proper teacher as much as anyone in this town!”

  A boy of your own?

  Stunned, Rebeccah felt her mouth drop open. She quickly shut it. Her startled gaze flew to the sheriff’s impassive face. So you’re married now, Wolf Bodine. A husband and a father. She felt something wither inside of her and had a horrible vision of a sweet golden-blond wife with rosy cheeks and a perpetually adoring smile on her face. And babies in her arms. A houseful of children, a perfect little home with pies baking and a crackling fire.

  She felt numb. A cherry-colored flush blossomed up from her neck to suffuse her face. All of those stupid daydreams about this man! Those giddy, romantic, heart-stopping melodramas she’d played out in her head. Over and over she’d imagined him coming for her at Miss Wright’s Academy, riding right up to the door ... declaring that he couldn’t forget her even as young as she’d been, that he’d had to find her, to see what kind of a woman she’d grown into.

  Miss Rawlings, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for a single day since we met. You’ve haunted my thoughts. Oh, yes, I know you were young, but you were so lovely, so incredibly lovely. I think you bewitched me—which is why I never heard Russ Gaglin sneak up and conk me on the head. No, my sweet, don’t fret over that. It’s done. How could I ever be angry with you? You were only helping to protect your father—a most noble goal. Miss Rawlings, may I tell you this? I sensed from the first something fine and delicate and noble in your soul. I know this sounds strange, but I knew at once you would become a beautiful woman. I waited for you. I’m glad I did. No other woman could ever make me feel the way I do looking at you right this minute. Miss Rawlings, may I have the infinite pleasure of kissing you?

  “Myrtle, I want a good schoolteacher to settle in here every bit as much as you,” Wolf Bodine was saying evenly to the cross-looking woman in the hideous green bonnet. “But I can’t exactly force one to come all the way to Montana—or to stay even if she does.”

  “That’s right, Myrtle. There’s no call getting mad at the sheriff,” Ernest chided.

  Even Waylon, put out as he was by the entire situation, felt compelled to agree. “If it weren’t for Sheriff Bodine, we’d have no decent women who’d even think of comin’ to this town, and you know it, Myrtle. Who cleared the Saunders gang out of here, and the Bentley brothers? Wal, don’t forget it. If Sheriff Bodine wasn’t around, these here streets’d be crawlin’ with riffraff, that’s what my pa always says, and my ma agrees with him.”

  “Now, don’t start talking about your ma and pa, Waylon,” Ernest intervened hastily, “or we’ll be jawing all day. I, for one, am in need of sustenance after the events of this afternoon. Anyone who cares to join me in the Gold Bar Saloon is more than welcome.”

  Rebeccah found herself keeping pace with the long-legged Bodine once more as he headed toward his office and the members of the welcoming committee went their separate ways.

  Her thoughts clipped along as rapidly as her kid-booted feet as she tried to sort through a myriad of feelings and information. So the irritating Miss Kellum, who’d moaned complaints all during the journey,
had left a teaching position wide open here in Powder Creek, she mused to herself, storing the information away for further consideration. Not that Rebeccah relished the prospect of resuming any teaching duties—two years of snooty and frivolous students at Miss Wright’s Academy had been more than enough. But if it turned out she needed to work until the ranch was running at a profit, at least she knew there was a position for which she was qualified.

  She said nothing, however, preferring to wait until she had thought the matter over and seen in what condition of prosperity was her ranch.

  The sheriff’s office was a one-story building at the far end of the street. Wolf Bodine held the door for her, and she glanced inside at a small, tidy room consisting of a cluttered desk and some old leather chairs, green-painted shutters at the windows, neat shelves filled to overflowing with books, and stacks of papers.

  And a six-foot-square cell, complete with iron bars, a cot, bucket, and a dingy brown blanket. Apart from that the cell was empty.

  But the sight of it made a knot tighten painfully in her stomach.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  He was staring at her, noting her obvious hesitation to cross the threshold.

  “Your feet are fidgeting.”

  “What ...? Oh.” In dismay she realized that he was right, she had been tapping her foot, shifting her weight, tapping the other foot.

  She clenched her teeth in chagrin and marched into the office. Wolf shut the door behind her. “I’m tired, Sheriff,” Rebeccah offered by way of explanation. She kept her eyes averted from the cell. “I’d like to finish this business quickly and be on my way.”

  “Where’re you headed?”

  “Not far from here.”

  “Can you be a mite more specific?”

  “Why?”

  He came nonchalantly around his desk, eased his long frame into the chair, sat back, and looked up into her face. Seconds ticked by. Rebeccah diligently concentrated on keeping her feet motionless.

  “Because you strike me as a lady trying to hide something,” he said softly.

  And suddenly Rebeccah realized the futility of trying to keep her identity from him—from anyone in Powder Creek. If she was going to live on a ranch just outside of town, everyone in Powder Creek would soon know exactly who she was—Bear Rawlings’s daughter. She just hadn’t planned on having to deal with it so soon.

  But there was no avoiding it.

  “I’m the new owner of the Rawlings property.” She kept her voice even despite the rapid thrum of her heart. “Perhaps you know it. It used to be the Peastone place.”

  “The place Bear Rawlings won from old Amos Peastone in a poker game?” His eyes flickered with something, whether it was premonition, intuition, or just plain suspicion, Rebeccah wasn’t sure. He leaned forward. “And your name is ...”

  “Rebeccah Rawlings. How nice to see you again, Mr. Bodine.”

  He was out of the chair in a flash. He reached her with a minimum of movement, his long legs gliding around the desk, his arms snaking out to grasp her. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I would choose.”

  Rebeccah flinched. Unthinking, she took a step backward at the cold fury in his face. He must have thought she was going to turn tail and run, because he grasped her even more firmly by the arms and yanked her forward with sudden and overpowering strength, much as he had done in the shack all those years ago.

  “You’re not going anywhere. I have a score to settle with you, lady.”

  She twisted wildly, unable to break free. “It wasn’t my fault—”

  “You set me up. Distracted me so that one of your father’s gang could smash my head in.”

  “No!” Rebeccah stopped struggling, meeting his glittering gaze with consternation. His eyes were the color of molten iron, and the anger in him was hot and potent, blazing between them. “I never meant ... I didn’t know Russ was coming back until he was in the door, signaling me to keep quiet. I never wanted him to hurt you.”

  “I’m supposed to believe Bear Rawlings’s daughter?” He gave a short laugh. “That’ll be the day.”

  Rebeccah went completely still. She turned white with anger. Then, in a frenzy, she tried to push him away, but he only tightened his grip on her, his hands manacling her arms with ruthless ease. “Let me go! I’ve done nothing wrong. Committed no crime. And you’ve no right to manhandle me.”

  “Manhandle?” Wolf suddenly glanced down at his own powerful fingers and realized what he was doing. He drew in his breath and released his grip. Easy, Bodine, he told himself. Where’s that famous cool-headedness? Why are you letting her get you so riled up?

  Maybe because his instincts about her had been right all those years ago. She’d grown into a stunner. The same violet eyes, alluringly upturned at the outer corners, blazed at him, only now they were the eyes of a gorgeous woman. She had the same sooty lashes, the same fiery rebelliousness, but the face and body now belonged to a dazzling angel of femininity, not a filthy rough-and-tumble kid.

  But there was another reason she was getting under his skin, a voice inside of him admitted. She reminded him in some strange way of Clarissa. Maybe it was the dark hair, the fair, creamy skin—but the eyes and mouth were completely different. Clarissa had long, catlike green eyes, the color of summer grass. And a delicate bow mouth, small and perfect, while Rebeccah Rawlings’s lips were richly full, downright sensuous.

  No, that’s not it, Wolf decided hastily, shifting his gaze from those lush parted lips. I’m letting her get to me because I’ve carried a grudge all these years against that seemingly innocent little kid in an Arizona hideout shack who set me up to get pistol-whipped. I was careless and she saw it—hell, she instigated it.

  No matter what the reason, his blood was boiling, and Wolf knew he had to cool it down.

  He moved away from her and stalked over to the bookcase, regarding her in silence from a distance of about seven feet. It was hot in the office, breezeless and stuffy, and Wolf at that moment badly wanted a drink. Not until you’ve dealt with her, he told himself. Calmly, dispassionately, and decisively.

  She looked like she could use a drink too.

  She isn’t that same dirty little kid anymore, he reminded himself. She’s a woman. An exquisite woman.

  And therefore even more dangerous.

  He moved toward her, under control now. She was watching him, her piquant face set afire with anger, and flushed in the rosy sunlight streaming through the window. Her fingers unconsciously rubbed her wrist where he had grabbed her, but her spine was straight and rigid, her mouth a firm line. She fairly quivered with outrage. She looks a hell of a lot more furious than frightened, Wolf thought coldly. And that’s not good.

  He wanted to scare her, to send her packing.

  She was trouble.

  “What makes you think Bear Rawlings’s daughter is welcome in my town?” he asked softly, stopping right before her and hooking his thumbs in his gunbelt. “Maybe, Miss Rawlings, you should just get right back on that stagecoach and keep going.”

  Rebeccah swallowed back a lump of pain. How vividly she remembered someone else confronting her with that same tone, and almost those same words. The day she’d arrived at Miss Wright’s Academy, Analee Caruthers had stalked into her room, followed by four other girls, crossed her arms across her chest, and suggested Rebeccah “get back on the train that had brought her from wherever.” Analee’s hazel eyes had glowed with malice. “We don’t want you here. You’re not our kind. Why don’t you simply go somewhere else?”

  “You can’t force me to leave,” she told Wolf Bodine, her mouth dry. Why had she ever expected that anyone would accept her, would let her start over in peace? She repeated the words she had told Analee and the others. “I’m staying.”

  Sunlight filtered in through the green shutters, burnishing Wolf’s hair, casting shadows on the deep coppered bronze of his skin. He could never trust me, much less like me, Rebeccah realized with a rush of agoniz
ing insight. No one here will. I should go, after all.

  But where?

  There was no place else. She was alone. And broke. She’d rid herself of everything Bear had given her, all but a few clothes, some keepsakes—and the ranch.

  You mustn’t cry, she instructed herself fiercely, blinking away the needle sting of unshed tears. You mustn’t let him or anyone see that they can make you bleed. Bear had warned her how dangerous any sign of weakness before enemies could be.

  They’ll eat you like vultures, he’d said time and again. There’ll be nothing left but gnawed-up bones.

  Wolf Bodine was watching her closely.

  “I’m staying,” she said again, her fingers clenching the delicate strap of her reticule.

  “I reckon that’s your choice. But don’t expect folks around here to welcome you with open arms. Your father and his gang robbed the bank a few years back, before I came to town.” He paused, seemed about to say something else, then changed his mind and went on quickly, “They got clean away with money belonging to a lot of folks. Maybe you’re wearing some of that money right now,” he added meaningfully, his eyes fixed on her pearl choker.

  “What I’m wearing is none of your business. I’m here in this office to get my reward money, Sheriff Bodine. Now, are you going to give it to me or not?”

  I’d like to give it to you, all right, he thought, but aloud he only said, “Take it easy, Miss Rawlings. I intend to give you everything you deserve.”

  Rebeccah stiffened, but she let the remark pass. All she wanted was to get this entire business over with and to get out of here. And if she never saw Wolf Bodine or this odious sheriff’s office again, it would be far too soon.

  In silence she filled out the papers he gave her.

  He in turn signed them without glancing at her.

  “I’ll have to wire for the money. I’ll bring it out to you when I get it.”