Outlaw Love

Clay’s back stiffened “What’s that got to do with me?”

Morgan pointed a finger at him. “I want you on that stage this afternoon.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_650394fd-1683-5446-9afd-8fb5d32aa9a6)

Ben Tucker stood at the doorway of the livery when Clay walked up. “Leaving town so soon?”

Clay shook his head. Though he’d like nothing better than to be on Scully Dade’s trail again, he’d gotten roped into riding shotgun for Jack Morgan’s payroll on the afternoon stage, delaying his own work for a while.

“No, Ben. I’ll be staying on here for a few more days.” Clay glanced back into the stable. “Is Deuce around?”

Ben’s brows pulled together. “What’s that boy done now?”

“I need to talk to him.”

“If he’s caused any more trouble, I’ll take a strap to him this time.”

The image Ben’s words conjured up didn’t sit well with Clay. “He didn’t do anything. I’m after the Dade gang, and I think Deuce might have some information on their hideout.”

“That boy,” Ben said, fuming. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. When Miss Chalmers wouldn’t let him come to school anymore, I told his ma she had to keep him busy at home, but she couldn’t do anything with him. I never thought he’d end up in trouble with the law.”

“I think he’s learned his lesson. Besides, working here with you ought to keep him busy enough.”

“Maybe I should have done that from the start. But the boy’s so scrawny. If he hadn’t come into the world at the same time as my Jared, I might have doubted his ma’s virtue.” Ben shook his head. “I guess every litter has a runt.”

“Is it all right if I talk with him?”

“Sure thing, Marshal.” Ben led the way through the stable, past rows of stalls. The horses chewed quietly on grain, occasionally pawing the soft earth or uttering a nicker, content in the barn’s cool interior.

Ben stopped at the open door to the feed room. Barrels and sacks of grain lined one wall. A rickety desk sat against the other; papers peeked from the half-open drawers, and ledgers littered the top.

“Deuce! Get out here, boy!”

A second later, he appeared at the door. Perspiration dampened his forehead, shafts of straw clung to his clothes and stuck out of his hair, dirt smudged his face. His breathing was heavy and labored.

Deuce glanced at Clay, then his father. His eyes widened. “I didn’t do nothing. I swear, Pa, I didn’t.”

“The marshal just wants to talk to you, boy. And as soon as you get done, I want you to take that mare back over to the hotel. Understand? Then come straight back. You’ve got a lot more chores to get done before the afternoon.”

Glay thought the boy might fall over any minute, from fear and exhaustion. “I don’t want to keep Deuce from his chores. I’ll walk along with him while he takes the horse to the hotel and we’ll talk then.”

“All right. But you tell the marshal whatever he wants to know. You hear me, boy?” Ben turned to Clay. “You let me know if he gives you any trouble. I’ll take care of it.”

From the looks of Deuce, Clay doubted he had the strength to give anybody trouble at the moment.

Deuce led the mare from the stall. They walked in silence until they reached Main Street. Clay took the reins and tied the horse off at the hitching post outside Connie’s Cookie Emporium. “I’m pretty thirsty. How about you?”

Deuce wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve and nodded.

“I’ll be back. You stay put.”

Inside the store, dozens of colorful candies sat in glass containers along the counter, and the display cases teemed with cookies, pies and cakes. The scents of vanilla, cinnamon and apples mingled in the air. Behind the counter stood a robust woman who appeared to have perfected her recipes by years of sampling her own confections. She eyed Clay up and down.

“You must be that new marshal I heard about. Welcome to Eldon. I’m Connie. I just took some oatmeal cookies from the oven. How about it?” Clay nodded, and she twittered, her cheeks going as round as ripe apples as she fetched a cookie from the display case behind her

He tasted and nodded quickly. “Give me a handful of those.”

“Well, hello again, young man.”

Clay turned to see Miss Matilda Wilder at his elbow. He touched the brim of his Stetson. “Good day, Miss Wilder.”

She shuffled her big satchel onto the counter, waving her flowered handkerchief. “Looks as though you have quite a sweet tooth.”

Clay grinned. “I sure do”

“Well, good for you. Keep up your strength. You’ve got a big job to do, and we’re all very proud of you, dear.” Miss Wilder gathered her handkerchief and satchel and made her way out of the store.

Connie wrapped the cookies in waxed paper. “How about some cider to go along with these?”

“Sure. Make it two.”

She poured the drinks and picked up her tablet to tally Clay’s purchase. Absently she reached in her pockets, then felt behind both ears and patted her neatly coiled hair.

“I swear to goodness, where is my pencil? It was here just a second ago.” Connie searched the counter, lifting the cookies and cups. “Where did it go?”

Clay dug coins from his pocket and dropped them on the counter, more than enough to cover his purchase. He thanked her, but she didn’t notice as she searched for her pencil.

Deuce was waiting on the bench outside, where he’d left him. He’d washed up at the water trough; his shirt was damp.

Clay plucked a piece of straw from Deuce’s shaggy hair. “You need a haircut, son.”

He swiped his hand across his forehead, pushing back his bangs. “Pa takes Jared and me to the barber at the same time. Jared doesn’t need a haircut yet.”

Clay sat beside him and passed him the apple cider. “How’s it going with your pa?”

Deuce gulped down half the cider and grimaced. “He’s powerful mad at me still.”

“Maybe you’d be better off working at home in- stead,” Clay suggested. Ben Tucker had been right about one thing. Deuce was too small to do manual labor.

Indignation and a hint of anger showed in Deuce’s eyes. “I’ve got five sisters at home. You think I should stay there? With all those girls? And do women’s work?”

“No, I guess not” Clay bit into a cookie.

Obviously, Deuce’s options were limited, and Clay could see how the boy, unable to attend school anymore, not wanted by his father and too prideful to help his mother, had been easy prey for the likes of Luther McGraw and the Dade gang.

“Your pa will come around, once you show him you’ve no intention of getting into trouble again.” “He don’t need me. He’s got Jared.” He turned away.

Clay swallowed the last of the cookie. “How did you get mixed up with Luther and the Dade gang, anyway?”