Outlaw Love

“Everything’s fine.” Kelsey washed her hands at the kitchen pump, then took out a knife and sliced the apple pie cooling on the sideboard. She kept her head turned, avoiding Etta Mae’s probing gaze.

“And your pa?” She leaned closer, her brows bobbing.

“Pa’s fine, too.”

It could be true, Kelsey told herself. In fact, it probably was true. She just hadn’t actually been home today to know for sure. So it wasn’t really like lying. Was it? After all this time covering up her whereabouts, Kelsey still wasn’t used to it.

Etta Mae stirred the boiling potatoes, splashing water onto the cookstove. “Do you think your pa will be coming into town anytime soon?”

“No, Etta Mae, I don’t expect so.”

“He trusts you to run this place without him, hmm?”

She couldn’t remember the last time her pa had come to town to check on his hotel or any of his other holdings. He didn’t want to come, and Kelsey didn’t encourage him. It served no purpose for the town to see what Emmet Rodgers had become; it would only anger Kelsey further.

“You poor dear.” Etta Mae sighed wistfully. “I don’t know how you keep up with it all. If only your brother—”

“Seth will be home soon enough.” Kelsey pulled off her apron. “I’m going to check the dining room.”

They took turns preparing the tables. Etta Mae had done it today, in her typical fashion. Kelsey hurried about the room, turning the white cloths so that the stains and mends weren’t so readily apparent, straightening the silverware and refolding the napkins. The dining room faced the street, so Kelsey kept one eye on the boardwalk and one on the lobby, waiting and hoping for diners to appear. She desperately needed a large turnout tonight Tonight and every night

The supper crowd proved disappointing. The hotel guests were there, all four of them, and Bill and Virginia Braden, who owned the dry goods store down the street

Kelsey stood by the door, fretting over the number of diners, mentally calculating the price of their meals and what it had cost her to prepare them.

“You mustn’t frown so much, my dear. How will you ever catch a husband like that?”

A chill slid up Kelsey’s spine as she turned to find Jack Morgan standing beside her. Dressed in a white linen shirt with a brocade vest and dark jacket, he looked every bit the most prosperous man in Eldon. His eyes were warm, his expression was compassionate, but Kelsey saw past the benevolent facade he presented She knew the real Jack Morgan, and not just because he was her best friend’s father.

“Catching a husband is not high on my list of priorities, Mr. Morgan.” Kelsey struggled to sound pleasant

“Whatever you say, my dear.” He gave her a thin smile and slid his finger along the mustache above his lip. “What are we serving tonight?” ‘That he referred to the hotel as partly his rankled Kelsey no end. He didn’t own the place. Not yet. And she intended to see to it that Jack Morgan never took another thing from the Rodgers family again.

“Roast turkey. I’ll show you to a table.”

He smiled indulgently and gazed at the room. “No need. I believe I’ll have no difficulty in finding an empty seat.”

Stomach churning, Kelsey returned to the kitchen.

By dusk, business at the Watering Hole had picked up and Clay ordered his third beer. He made it a policy not to drink too much. A federal marshal was a temptation to a young gunslinger out to make a name for himself, or a local looking to liven up a Saturday night. Clay had to keep himself ready.

But today had been a hell of a day, so he indulged himself. He questioned that decision a few minutes later, when Deuce walked through the swinging doors. Clay dropped his hand to his side and rested it on his Colt.

Deuce spotted Clay and walked to his table. He stared at the floor for a minute, then took a deep breath. “I came to tell you that I’m sorry for what happened today.”

Clay rocked back in the chair. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “And I appreciate you telling Sheriff Bottom that it was mostly Luther that wanted to string you up.”

“He threatened to shoot you if you didn’t go through with it,” Clay pointed out. “I just told the sheriff the truth.”

Deuce’s cheeks grew red. “I appreciate you not mentioning to anybody that I threw up.”

Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was the flash of memory from when he’d been sixteen himself, but Clay took pity on him. He pushed out the chair beside him. “Sit down.”

His gaze came up quickly. “No. No, I can’t.” Deuce glanced back over his shoulder, then looked at Clay again. “My pa was powerful mad at me when he got me out of jail. He whipped me good. I really can’t…sit down.”

Clay shook his head slowly. “I don’t think you’re cut out to be an outlaw, Deuce.”

He lifted his thin shoulders. “No, sir. Me either.”

“Did your folks give you that name, boy? Or was it just hung on you?” Clay took another sip of his beer.

“My name’s Dennis, but everybody calls me Deuce ‘cause I’m the second one. I got a twin brother.” He looked at the floor again. “We’re twins, but me and Jared don’t look much alike. He’s real big and strong, like my pa. That’s my pa over there.”

Clay peered around Deuce at the man standing by the swinging doors. Tall, with big, powerful arms and a full chest, a strong face set directly down on broad, muscular shoulders.

“He’s the blacksmith.”

“Holy Jesus…” Clay gulped down three swallows of his beer.

“Pa never let me work at the livery with him and Jared, ‘cause I’m so small. But he says now I have to work there everyday so he can see to it I don’t get into any trouble.”

Clay let out a heavy sigh and sat back in his chair. “If that were my pa, Deuce, I’d see to it I never got into a minute’s trouble again.”

Deuce’s father left his station by the door and crossed the saloon. He offered his hand to Clay. “I’m Ben Tucker.”

Clay got to his feet and accepted his iron handshake, the grasp of a man who worked hard for a living. “Clay Chandler. Glad to know you.”

“I wanted to tell you personal, Marshal, that I’m much obliged to you for putting in a good word for my boy with the sheriff.”

“I only told him what really happened.”

Ben nodded. “You can be sure Deuce here won’t be .hanging around with the likes of that Luther McGraw again. I put a stop to that today.”

Deuce grimaced and shifted uncomfortably.

Clay nodded. “I think he got in with the wrong bunch.”

“Well, it won’t happen again.” He gave Deuce a stem look. “That right, boy?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m beholding to you, Marshal. You need anything from my livery stable, you just say the word. Is that your bay stallion outside the sheriffs office?”

Clay nodded.

“I’ll bed him down at the livery. No charge. The boy here will take your gear over to the hotel.”