Outlaw Love

Her gaze dipped to his neck, and she saw the rope burns inside his collar. At once she felt overwhelmed by the desire to press her fingers against the marks and soothe them with her touch.

She gave herself a little shake. What was she thinking? The man was a federal marshal. If he knew who she was and what she’d done, he’d slap her into jail without a second thought She had to get rid of him.

Kelsey perused the register and cleared her throat. “Sorry, but we’re full up.”

One thick, dark eyebrow crept upward, and he turned to gaze pointedly at the deserted lobby. Silence hung over the hotel. Clay eyed the cubbyholes on the wall behind the desk, the rows of keys to unrented rooms dangling there.

“You’re full up?”

Kelsey pushed her chin a notch higher. “Yes, we are. I couldn’t squeeze another guest in here with a shoehorn.”

Clay rested his forearm on the desk and leaned closer, his voice low and measured. “Look, lady, I’ve had a hell of a day and I need a place to sleep. If I have to, I’ll go from room to room until I find an empty bed, and when I find one—”

“Let me look again.” Kelsey dipped her gaze to the register once more, her mind whirling. He didn’t recognize her. He didn’t connect her with the hanging incident this afternoon. To protest his stay further would only call attention to herself, make him suspicious. She had no choice.

Kelsey forced a bright smile. “Well, what do you know? It seems we do have a vacancy. And it faces the street How about that! Just sign in, please.”

Clay straightened and scrawled his name in the register she pushed toward him. “The livery was supposed to send over my gear.”

On the floor near her feet, Kelsey found saddlebags and a rifle. She hoisted them onto the desk. “A new Winchester rifle? Nice.”

His hand froze on the saddlebag. He eyed her suspiciously. “You know about guns?”

Kelsey swallowed hard. “I told you I had brothers. Remember?”

Warmth spread through him as he recalled the incident in the alley, when her hands had been all over him. “I remember.”

She passed him the key. “Room four. Turn right at the top of the stairs. Good night.” Kelsey forced a smile.

Clay pulled on his Stetson and flung his saddlebags over his shoulder. “Good night.”

He picked up the rifle and climbed the steps. Half-way up, he turned back. “Don’t forget to lock that back door.”

Stunned, she simply nodded, then watched as he dis-appeared up the stairs. Kelsey sagged against the desk. A feeling of foreboding crept over her.

In her heart, she knew it would be a long time before she saw the last of Marshal Clay Chandler.

Chapter Three (#ulink_fe67d927-a0c4-5d25-8258-c676a6a5da23)

The morning chill seeped through Kelsey’s shawl as the sun peeped over the Ozarks, doing little as yet to warm the air. She tugged the thin wrap tighter around her shoulders and pulled back on the lead rope, stopping the mare in front of the livery stable. She’d left the hotel at first light and kept to the back alleys, but still, it was nearly impossible to hide something as big as a horse.

“Good morning?” She peered through the open double doors of the livery. “Mr. Tucker?”

A light brown head of hair popped up from one of the stalls. Deuce smiled when he saw her. “Morning, Miss Kelsey.” He propped his pitchfork against the wall and walked out to meet her.

Deuce stood only a little taller than she, and probably didn’t weigh much more, either—a sharp contrast to his twin brother. It seemed to Kelsey he had always looked as he did right now, frayed collar on a too-large shirt, suspenders trying to hold up trousers Jared had long ago outgrown.

“I didn’t know you were working down here now.”

Deuce shrugged. “Just since yesterday.”

“How are your ma and the girls?” After giving birth to Deuce and his twin brother, the Tuckers had pro-duced five daughters. Kelsey saw them occasionally in town.

“Okay, I reckon.”

“Are you here by yourself this morning?” She needed the mare shod right away, and knew Deuce couldn’t handle it.

“No.” Deuce tilted his head toward the rear of the stable. “Pa and my brother are here.”

Kelsey peered past him, to the back of the darkened barn, and saw Ben and Jared, evenly matched in size and build, having coffee together.

Deuce patted the mare. “Need something this morning?”

Kelsey took in a quick breath and gave him the speech she’d rehearsed. “She lost a shoe—I’ve no idea how—and it’s a bit of a rush. Could your pa see to her right away?”

“What’s the problem?” Ben Tucker walked out of the stable and gave Kelsey a welcoming nod before turning a stern look on Deuce. “You finished cleaning those stalls, boy?”

“No, sir, I just—”

Ben jerked his thumb toward the stable. “I’ll tell you when you can come outside.”

Deuce ducked his head and hurried into the stable.

Kelsey shuddered. She wouldn’t want the wrath of Ben Tucker aimed at her.

“Now, what’s the problem here?”

“No problem,” Kelsey replied. “I’m just in a small hurry. I was hoping you could take care of her first thing.”

Ben ran his hand down the horse’s neck, studying the animal. “I’ll have the boy bring her back when I’m done.”

“Thanks.” With a sigh of relief, Kelsey hurried back to the hotel. Etta Mae would arrive soon, and she didn’t want to explain why she was out so early. She couldn’t be too careful. Not with a federal marshal living under her roof.

Clay bounded up the front steps of the hotel, feeling better than he had in a week, the night in a real bed and the bath he’d just had accounting largely for his good mood. The smell of food reminded him of his gnawing belly, since he’d elected to have a supper of beer at the Watering Hole last night.

In the dining room, morning sunlight filtered through the ruffled curtains, brightening the white linen and silverware laid out on the tables. Every eye in the crowded room turned Clay’s way as he sauntered to a table at the rear and sat down with his back to the wall. He dropped his Stetson in the chair beside him and gazed out the window.

The town appeared prosperous, with a number of shops doing a brisk business already. Wagons, buggies and horses moved along the dirt street. Women with small children, miners, men wearing suits with guns strapped to their thighs all moved along the boardwalk. Eldon seemed like a good town. Clay thought, growing, clean. A place a man could settle in, raise a family in, grown old in.

Annoyed with his thoughts, Clay turned away from the window. He needed a cup of coffee. The door from the kitchen swung open, and the serving girl swept into the room, balancing a tray of steaming food on one hand. It smelled delicious. Then an- other scent tickled his nose, and it took only a second for him to recall it from the night before. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized Kelsey Rodgers under that tray.

She’d seemed bigger last night, when she doused him with water, set his nerves on end mopping his trousers and tried to have him sleep in the street. Now, seeing her in the morning light, he realized she stood just a shave above his elbow. Her features were delicate. She was like a finely crafted china doll, with big, expressive green eyes and light brown hair. She bent to set the plates of food on the table beside him, and he saw the fullness of her breasts pressing against the tiny row of buttons up the front of her soft green dress. Clay’s belly tightened. He hadn’t realized last night how pretty she was, either.

He watched as she turned and her gaze swept the room with a critical eye, then came to rest on him. He saw the sharp intake of her breath, and his belly coiled again.

“Good morning, Marshal.” Kelsey stopped beside his chair and put on a bright smile.

Certain she gave that smile to every diner who took a seat at one of her tables, Clay sat back in his chair and gazed up at her. “Let me guess—the kitchen just closed.”