CIMARRON SURRENDER

Marion Marshall

FOR CAROLYN HANNA

Thanks for everything. As always, your input makes me a better writer. I couldn't have done it without you!

CHAPTER ONE

1882

Cimarron, Texas

Abby Prescott leaned her forearms on top of her broom as she gazed up the dusty street. It was near lunch time and her mind was more concerned with her empty stomach than the boring chore of sweeping the boardwalk in front of her parent's general store. Sweeping the store's entrance was a daily job that Abby actually enjoyed most days because it gave her the opportunity to view the activities of the small southwestern Texas town.

Her gaze fell on the trio of grim faced men riding down the street toward her. The bold way they stared at her as they rode past caused her to begin sweeping again furiously. Amid the billowing dust cloud she raised, she glanced once more at the men, shivering at the open interest in their faces.

She watched them dismount in front of the saloon further down the street, tie up their horses at the crowded hitching rail, then shoulder their way inside. A half dozen other men just as unkempt and scary, hanging around the saloon's bat-wing doors, made room as the strangers entered the noisy sanctuary.

Abby once more stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom handle as she contemplated how many men like those had descended on Cimarron during the past few weeks.

"Abby, haven't you finished sweeping yet?" came Abby's father's voice from the recesses of the store. "I have a rack of fabric for you to organize. Hurry along, girl. Don't dawdle out there. "

"There's work to do," Abby mimicked softly aloud. Sighing, she resumed sweeping, knowing that a hundred more mundane tasks awaited her inside. "Lord, I can't wait for October to come. Boarding school back East with Aunt Clara is sounding better all the time."

Glancing across the street at the bank, she frowned. "But going away to school means leaving Frederick, too," she reminded herself. She forced a smile to her lips as Frederick Gaston, the bank owner's son, appeared at the front windows and waved to her.

She returned the gesture, and sighing, began sweeping once more. The sound of uproarious laughter, followed by a man being thrown out the front doors of the saloon just up the street made her shiver. "With Cimarron turning to a outlaw haven, maybe I won't miss Frederick as much as I've thought."

She swept busily for a few minutes, trying to keep her thoughts off leaving her home, family, and Frederick. Having never been away from home before, she was torn between the excitement of going away to school, and leaving all that was familiar to her.

She was pulled from those gloomy, conflicting thoughts by an approaching rider. Pausing in her chores, she looked up at the man on a dark bay horse when he halted directly in front of her.

"Morning, ma'am. Nice day, isn't it?"

Abby was wary at his arrival. Lately the men who came to Cimarron were not the sort she was inclined to speak to, but something about this man's manner put her at ease almost immediately.

He leaned his forearms across the saddle horn, waiting for her to respond to his greeting. He was covered with dust, his tan Stetson pulled low against the glare of the July sun. His face was covered with a week's growth of whiskers.

"Yes," Abby murmured self consciously, in answer to his greeting. "It's a lovely morning. Is there something I can help you with?"

The man nodded as he pulled off the hat and wiped one sleeve across his face. "Yes, ma'am. I'm looking for Judge Amos Conners. Do you know where I might find him?"

Abby nodded as she stared speechlessly into the stranger's dark brown eyes. He might be as dangerous looking as any of the other men who had drifted into town during the past few weeks, but the way his eyes warmed and his easy smile made her throat suddenly dry.

He was in his early thirties, she guessed, tall, lean, and quite accomplished with the gun on his hip if the way he wore it was any indication. His hair was black as coal, his face tanned by the relentless Texas sun. His eyes sparkled with geniality and his lips, beneath a thick, well trimmed moustache, had curled back over white teeth into a dazzling smile.

Abby stared at him for a moment, trying to remember his question, then swallowed quickly and lifted a rather shaky hand to point across the street to a building next to the bank.

"There," she said finally, appalled that her voice sounded squeaky and unfamiliar. "His office is in the courthouse."

"Thank you, ma'am," the stranger said with another disarming smile. He placed the hat on the back of his head and tipped it to her in a gesture of respect.

While Abby watched spellbound, he turned his horse and rode across the street. He dismounted, tied the animal to the hitch rail and disappeared into the courthouse without a backward glance.

Only then did she realize her mouth was hanging open. Snapping it shut quickly, she began sweeping furiously. Not only is he probably an outlaw, I just made a complete fool of myself by gaping at him like a starving hound dog, she thought irritably. Then she smiled as she glanced toward the doorway where he had disappeared. But outlaw or not, I've never seen the likes of him before. Until this moment, I never knew a man could look like that.

Her father's sudden appearance at her side drew those disturbing thoughts away from the handsome man. "You weren't talking to that man, were you, Abigail?"

"He asked where Judge Conners' office was, papa. That's all."

She stared at her father, fascinated at the stern expression that settled on his face.

"You stay away from him, Abigail. Do you understand me? Stay completely away from that man."

Abby blinked at the venom in his words. She glanced quickly from her father to the judge's office across the street, then back again. "Why, papa? Who is he?"

Josiah Prescott snorted in disgust. He rubbed his hands on the stained apron he was wearing. With a disgruntled glance at his daughter, he turned back toward the store's entrance, then turned in the doorway to answer her question.

"He may as well be the devil himself, that's who he is, Abigail. That's Kane Darcy."

CHAPTER TWO

Kane Darcy strode across the room toward the man seated behind a massive mahogany desk. Slapping his hat down, he placed both hands on the desk top and leaned forward.

"All right, damn you! I'm here! What the hell do you want?"

Judge Amos Conners fanned away the dust cloud rising from the violent slap of the Stetson against the desktop. Grinning, he leaned back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap and stared up at the angry man across the desk.

"Good morning to you too, Kane. I'm glad to see you. How have you been?"

Kane's dark eyes narrowed with contempt at the judge's cynical familiarity. "You know damned well how I am! "

Judge Conners grinned again. "I'd say you were about two weeks out of Yuma Prison. I must say, Kane, incarceration has not improved your disposition any."

"Did you think it would?"

"I hoped it would. Obviously, I gave you too much credit."

"I see. You thought sending my butt to jail would improve me? Make a better man out of me? Guess that just proves you're an idiot, doesn't it?"

The anger in Kane's trail weary features made the judge smile again. Kane's anger did not frighten him. Even a glance at the Colt .45 on his hip, tied down with a leather thong to his right thigh, and secured by a safety loop over the hammer did not make the judge uneasy.

"I've dealt with men like you for the past thirty years, Kane," he said pleasantly as he opened a desk drawer, produced a bottle of good whiskey and two glasses. He poured both full to the brim and moved one within Kane's reach.

"Some are beyond redemption. I usually hang those. Others have a spark of decency buried somewhere deep inside them. Those I try to save, if I can."

"So I'm one of the savable kind?"

Kane's husky voice was sharp with sarcasm. He took the glass, drained it in one gulp and slapped it back onto the desktop, without ever taking his gaze from the judge's face.

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

"I'm supposed to be grateful that you sent my ass to prison for ten years instead of hanging me?"

"You didn't serve ten years, Kane. You've served exactly eight months of that sentence. And yes, you might be a little grateful that I didn't hang you. I could have, you know. You were as guilty as sin, and we both know it."

"That fella shot first! If you didn't know that, you would've hung me!"

"He caught you in bed with his wife. What did you expect him to do, shake your hand? His reaction wasn't all that surprising considering the circumstances. His problem was that he was no hand with a gun. He was a fool for trying to kill a man who is as good with a Colt as you."

"And don't think for a minute that eight months in that hell-hole was any picnic," Kane retorted, omitting any reference to the judge's remarks. "There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't swear I'll kill you when I got out."

"Is that why you answered my request to come to Cimarron? So you could have that opportunity?"

Kane stared at him silently for a moment, then let out a sigh. He straightened up and squared his shoulders as the slightest sign of a grin touched his lips. "I'm here, Your Honor, because I knew if I didn't show up, you'd have every U.S. Marshal in Texas on my trail."

He took the refilled glass Judge Connors handed him, drained it, and set it back on the desktop before completing the thought. "Let's get down to it, Judge. You sent me to prison, then you got me out of prison on the condition that I come here. Why? What do you want from me?"

Judge Connors studied him for a moment while Kane glared at him. But he knew the struggle was over. He had made a practice of studying men during his long tenure on the bench. He had known Kane Darcy would come to Cimarron as he requested. He also knew Kane would agree to his terms now. He knew because he knew the kind of man Kane Darcy was, even if Kane didn't know himself. That kind of insight came with years of experience, the kind of experience Kane wasn't old enough, or wise enough yet, to have gained.

Judge Connors got up from his plush chair and walked to the front windows. Pushing aside the curtains, he indicated he wanted Kane to join him. Gesturing toward the activity on the street outside, he turned to Kane.

"Take a look out there, Kane. Tell me what you see."

Kane frowned as he leaned forward to look out the window. After a moment, he looked back to the judge. "I see a town…like any other town. Buildings, businesses, people." A wicked grin touched his mouth briefly. "I see a big saloon with a couple dozen working girls hanging over the balcony trying to drum up business."

Judge Connor shook his head wearily. "I can see that a prison term hasn't diminished your sex drive any. I've never known a man, Kane, who has more trouble controlling his urges, or one that gets into more trouble because of them."

Kane shrugged. "I can't help it, Judge. Is it my fault that I'm so damned good looking that ladies can't keep their hands off me?" he said with a grin.

Judge Connors' bushy gray brows arched with amusement. "I suppose not. But it is your fault when you don't take notice of whether or not those ladies have a husband somewhere. I hope that prison has sharpened your instincts in that area."

"Oh, it has, Your Honor. I promise that from now on I'll ask every woman I take to bed if she's married first."

Judge Connors snorted, not believing a word from Kane's devilish grinning lips. "Let's stay on the subject at hand, shall we? You can lie to all those women you want to after we reach an agreement, but we have business to discuss first. Now, look out the window and tell me what you see, other than prostitutes waiting to shower you with their attention."

Kane glanced at the window again, then turned back to the judge with a puzzled expression. "Like I said, it's a town, like any other town, like a thousand towns I've seen before. What am I supposed to see?"

Judge Connors snorted as he pointed toward the fight that had broken out on the boardwalk in front of the saloon. A dozen drifters had gathered around to cheer on their favorite participant. The girls leaning over the balcony called encouragement as well as they watched the proceedings. The townspeople gave the fracas a wide berth as they hurried past to complete their business, looking disgusted and worried.

"This used to be a nice town, Kane. Until a few weeks ago there wasn't even a saloon in Cimarron. Or prostitutes, or gambling, or any of those things. This was a nice quiet place to raise a family. Now that's all changed."

"What changed it?"

"A very nasty range war has erupted between the Belter family and the Greers. They both own big ranches outside town and they're fighting over water rights. Those unpleasant fellows you see out there have drifted in here by the dozens hoping to get in on the fight. Some of the most unpleasant people you could imagine have come here. Now hardly a day goes by without a shooting or a killing. Fights are commonplace. Whores are plying their wares openly on the streets. Decent folk are afraid to walk their own streets anymore."

"What's all that got to do with me?"

Judge Connors grimaced at the bored tone of Kane's voice. He turned his five feet eight inch, two hundred forty pound frame around, glaring up at the younger man. At fifty-five, Amos Connors was still a man to be reckoned with. His hair was now more silver than brown, his body softened by years of good living, but his blue eyes contained an icy element that Kane Darcy remembered well.

"The town council asked me to come here. Then they asked me to help them clean up this town, make it a fit place for decent people again. Now, I can't do much about the Belters and the Greers trying to annihilate each other. I don't even much care if they do. My concern is this town and its people."

"So?"

Judge Connors' gaze dropped to the pearl handled Colt on Kane's hip. "Are you still as good with that gun as you used to be?"

Kane stared at him, baffled at first by the question. Then the light of understanding made his dark eyes narrow and glitter. "Oh no, this isn't going where I think it is, is it?"

Judge Connors grinned as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his expensive trousers. "I need a man who can clean up this town, Kane, make it a decent place again. I need a man who's fast with a gun, and not afraid to use it."

"What you're talking about is a hired gun, Judge. I may have done a lot of things in my life, but I've never hired my gun out."

"Really? There's a couple of ranchers up near the Badlands that would disagree with that statement, Kane."

"Well, except for that time. And that was only because I was down on my luck and needed some traveling money," Kane said with a sheepish shrug.

"What about the time in El Paso last year? Or the time down in Sonora a couple of years ago?"

Kane exhaled slowly as he returned the judge's pointed stare. "All right, so maybe it was more than just once. But that was different."

"Why is it different, Kane? You used your gun for money in a half dozen different causes over the years. I'm offering you money now to use it for me, on the side of law and order. Or is it law and order that you object to?"

"Hell, Judge, if you want me to kill somebody, just point the bastard out. I'll walk out there right now and blow him to hell, if that's what you want. Is that why you got me out of prison? To kill somebody for you?"

Judge Connors had to smile at the sarcastic edge in Kane's voice. He walked back across the room to his desk, opened the top drawer and took out a shiny object. Walking back to the window where Kane waited, he held out the item.

"I want you to do whatever is necessary to clean up this town and make it safe for the people who live here," he said. "If that means having to kill the vermin that are crawling these streets, then that's what I want you to do. But you'll do it the right way, Kane, with the law on your side. That's a big switch for you, I admit, but I have no doubt that you're the man for this job."

Kane stared at the badge in the judge's outstretched hand incredulously. Then his gaze lifted to the judge's face. "You're not suggesting that I put that on, are you?" he asked, gesturing to the badge.

When Judge Connors did not reply, he backed up a step, shaking his head. "Oh no, you're not pinning that on me."

"Do you like being a free man, Kane?" the judge asked shrewdly. "Did you like waking up this morning and breathing fresh air? Do you like being able to walk around without a regiment of soldiers having their rifles trained on your back? Do you like the thought of being able to leave here in a few minutes and going over to the saloon, buying any woman you fancy a drink, and then taking her upstairs and doing what you evidently do so well? Do you?"

"That's what all this is about? Blackmail?"

"That's such an unpleasant term, Kane. I'm offering you a simple choice. You can put on this U.S. Marshal's badge and do the right thing for probably the first time in your life, or...you can go back to Yuma to serve out the rest of your sentence. It's your choice...make it."

The expression on the judge's face was cast from solid granite. It was the same expression Kane remembered well from his appearance in Judge Connors' courtroom. That expression made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Damn you!" he said softly while they glared at each other. "You son-of-a-bitch! You've got your foot on my throat and you're enjoying it."

"Believe it or not, Kane, I'm doing this for your own good, as well as the good of this town."

"Like hell you are!"

"You'd last another few months in prison, maybe. Then you'd do something really stupid, like trying to escape. That would result in your either being killed in the attempt, or killed later when the law caught up with you. Use your head for the first time in your life, Kane. I'm offering you a chance to redeem yourself. Take it."

The judge's words were softly spoken, but were filled with so much conviction that for the moment Kane almost believed him. His dark gaze flashed from the judge's face to the shiny tin badge, then back again.

"I'm a convicted felon, Your Honor. I can't vote. I can't hold a public office. Hell, I'm not even supposed to be wearing a gun. I sure as hell can't be a U.S. Marshal."

"I'm the federal judge who sentenced you, Kane. I'm the federal judge who got you paroled from prison. I'm also the federal judge who can grant you a full pardon. All you have to do is put on this badge, take the oath of office that goes with it, and uphold the duties of the office."

"So all I have to do is swear to uphold law and order in this sweet little hamlet for a few weeks, maybe kill a few bad guys without getting myself killed in the process, and you'll grant me a full pardon?" Kane asked suspiciously.

"Swear to uphold the duties of a federal marshal for as long I deem necessary. When Cimarron is safe again, I'll grant you a full pardon and you can go on your merry way."

Kane glanced back out the window at the fight that was still raging in the street. At least another half dozen men were involved in it now. The noise was ear-shattering as the onlookers cheered on their favorite combatants. All traffic on the street had stopped while the fight grew in ferocity.

"And I'm supposed to do this noble act all by myself, I suppose," he inquired sarcastically. "There's a good dozen men involved in that fracas out there right now. And you want me to walk over there, break up the fight, and put those fellas in jail, without getting myself shot. Right!"

"Kane, my boy, I have no doubt that you can do just that without breaking a sweat. When the people of this town see that you're making an effort to restore law and order, I believe you'll have no shortage of men willing to assist you. In the meantime, however, I'm afraid we're on our own."

"We?"

Judge Connors nodded. "That's right. We. You do the physical part and I'll do the rest. Justice from my bench will be swift and as ruthless as necessary to clean up this town. What's your decision?"

"What the hell kind of choice do I have, Your Honor. Give me the damned badge."

Judge Connors did not even try to suppress his grin as he pinned the silver star on Kane's black leather vest. "Raise your right hand. Now, do you, Kane Darcy, swear to uphold the duties of a United States Marshal to the best of your ability for as long as I deem necessary?"

There was a pointed pause while Kane thought over his options. As he stared into the judge's icy blue eyes, he knew those options were severely limited. It was take the oath or go back to prison. Some damned choice!

"I swear already," he snapped. As an after thought, he asked, "What happened to the last marshal anyway?"

"He got himself killed."

"That's what I figured."

Kane turned back to the window. Instead of watching the fight going on, his attention was focused on the young woman who was furiously sweeping in front of the general store.

"Who is she?"

Judge Connors glanced in the direction Kane was staring. "Forget it, Kane. That girl is out of your league."

"I didn't ask for her pedigree, Judge. I asked you who she is."

"Her name is Abigail Prescott. Her folks own the general store. Her father is head of the town council. And she has a steady suitor," Judge Connors answered suspiciously.

"She sure is pretty," Kane commented as he stared at the girl across the street. "I stopped on my way over here and asked her where to find you. It's been a long time since I've seen eyes that blue, or hair that gold."

"Eight months would be my guess."

"The rest of her isn't bad either. How old is she? Eighteen, nineteen?"

"Eighteen, not that it matters to you," Judge Connors grunted. "I'm warning you, Kane. Keep your mind on the job you're here to do. If you want to play tickle the bunny, do it with the girls at the saloon. Keep your distance from Abby Prescott. She's a lady, not your type at all."

Kane's dark gaze remained on the golden haired creature across the street. He saw her look toward the courthouse and for an instant their gazes locked. Then Miss Abigail Prescott quickly dropped her attention back on the broom in her hands.

"Now, Your Honor, weren't you just lecturing me about making better choices with my life?" he drawled as he directed his attention back to the judge's scowling face. "You want decent? Hell, I can do decent. I might even be good at it. I might even be so good at it that pretty Miss Abigail Prescott over there would appreciate me."

"You keep your pants on. At least around the decent girls in this town. You step out of line, Kane, you make one illicit move toward Abby Prescott and I'll send your sorry ass back to Yuma so fast it'll make your head spin. Got it?"

"Yeah? And then who would you get to do your dirty work, Your Honor?" Kane drawled as he crossed the room to retrieve his hat from the desk. Pulling it down, he flashed the judge a grin as he headed for the door. "Well, I've been a U.S. Marshal for five minutes and I guess it's time I started earning my wages. I am getting paid for this, aren't I?"

"A dollar a day and board. There's a room at the hotel for you. I've arranged with the hotel restaurant for all your meals. Any other needs you may have, are your responsibility."

"Always have been, Judge," Kane replied as he opened the door and stepped out into the heat of the mid-day sun.

He paused for a moment on the boardwalk to look across the street where Abby Prescott was still sweeping. When she glanced up at him, he tipped his hat to her, and grinned when she quickly looked away.

As he stepped into the street and headed in the direction of the saloon brawl, he reached down to remove the safety loop from the hammer of the Colt. He glanced back at Abby for just a moment with a thoughtful expression. This town is looking better by the minute. Hell, I may even like this job.

CHAPTER THREE

"You've swept that same spot at least twice."

Turning at the sound of the laughing female voice, Abby had to laugh herself. Leaning against the porch column was her best friend, Betsy Brennen. Wearing a calico dress and carrying a basket of eggs she intended to sell to Mr. Prescott, Betsy was as dark and exotic as Abby was fair.

"I guess I have," Abby conceded. "I guess my mind was on something else."

"The something else that's coming out of Judge Connors' office right about now?"

Abby's head spun around just in time to see Kane Darcy's respectful acknowledgment. She quickly looked away, then blushed at Betsy's giggle.

"Look at you, Abigail Prescott, you're positively blushing."

"I am not!"

"You are too. Jeez, he's something! So handsome."

Abby's gaze followed Betsy's as Kane moved confidently down the street. "He's probably an outlaw, Betsy. Every strange man that's come into town for weeks is."

"Not this one," Betsy said, still staring at Kane as he walked away. She turned her head sideways to watch him as he neared the fight going on in the middle of the street. ""Nice. Have you noticed the way his trousers fit so snugly across his…"

"Betsy Brennan, don't you dare finish that thought!"

"Well it's true. Not many men look that good when they're walking away from you. And don't tell me you didn't notice."

The two girls stared at each other for a moment, then both burst out giggling at the same moment. "Okay, I noticed. So what?" Abby asked when she regained her breath.

"So what? He's stunning, that's what! Even though he could use a bath and a shave. Just think what he'll look like all cleaned up."

"Who is he, Betsy, and what's so terrible about him? Papa was positively vehement about my talking to him. All he did was ask where Judge Connors was and all I did was answer him. He seemed perfectly nice to me, although maybe a bit...umm, I don't know...dangerous, but not like the other men who've come to town lately. He was very respectful."

"His name is Kane Darcy and Judge Connors sent for him. I heard my ma and pa talking about it this morning. He's going to take the marshal's job and get rid of those horrible men. Pa said he's no different than the men he's here to run out of town, him being a hired gun and all."

Abby listened to Betsy's remarks but her gaze never left Kane's figure. Her eyes widened with alarm when she realized he was walking right into the brawl in front of the saloon. "Oh my, Betsy! He's going to get hurt!"

"Don't be silly, Abby. The man is a hired gunman. I think he can take care of himself."

Abby dropped the broom as she picked up her skirts and hurried up the sidewalk toward the fracas in the street. Betsy could do nothing but hurry after her, knowing they were both going to be in big trouble if their parents found out.

***

At the edge of the brawl, Kane took his pistol from the holster and fired it once into the air. Almost immediately the fighting stopped. The brawling men staggered upright and turned to see who had fired the shot.

"You're all under arrest. Drop your guns into the street and start walking toward the jail."

No one moved. They were all staring at him incredulously, as if they couldn't believe their ears.

"You heard me. Move! I won't tell you again."

The command in his voice was evident to anyone not so drunk that he misunderstood the words. Kane stood with his legs slightly spread, the Colt in his hand, his expression as calm as an autumn morning.

"You better look around, fella," one of the brawny rowdies pointed out. "There's just one of you. What do you think you're gonna do, shoot all of us? You only got five bullets left."

"It'll only take one to shut you up for good."

"Then what? That'll leave you with four bullets."

"Yeah, but you'll be dead. You want take that chance? You've got exactly ten seconds to drop your gun. If it's still on you when that time is up, I'll kill you. Make up your mind."

The expression in Kane's dark eyes convinced the man. He slowly unbuckled his gunbelt and let it fall into the dust at his feet. One by one the others did the same until they were all unarmed.

"Who the hell are you, mister?" one of the men asked, as Kane rounded them up.

"He's a U.S. Marshal, name's Kane Darcy."

Kane grinned at Judge Connors' voice. Turning, he saw the judge holding a sawed off shotgun across both arms. The murderous weapon was trained on the group of troublemakers.

"You heard the marshal, you're all under arrest. Your trial will be in one hour. The party's over, boys. Law and order has come back to Cimarron," Judge Connors said with conviction.

As Amos moved abreast of him, Kane leaned over to ask, "Where the hell is the jail anyway?"

"Two blocks ahead on the left, Marshal, next door to the laundry."

"How convenient," Kane drawled as they herded the band of brawlers down the street. "You can get sobered up and get your drawers ironed all at the same time."

"We try to please here in Cimarron."

Kane chucked as they moved down the street. As they passed a couple of small wide-eyed boys on the boardwalk, he paused long enough to take a coin from his vest pocket and flip it to one of them.

"There's another of those if you boys will pick those gunbelts and bring them to the jail."

The tow-headed boy snagged the flying coin and jammed it into a trouser pocket, then dashed up the street with his companion to pick up the guns.

"You just got out of prison, where did you get money?" Judge Connors asked as he walked at Kane's side.

Kane flashed him one of those dazzling smiles. "I've been out of jail fourteen days, Your Honor. You don't think I spent every minute of that time in the saddle rushing here to answer your summons, do you? I stopped over in El Camino a couple of nights ago."

"The money, Kane? Poker game?"

"Naw, a nice lady who took pity on me and bought my supper, plus a little for expenses."

"Good God! The whores are paying you? I don't believe it!"

"Believe it, Your Honor, believe it," Kane replied with a grin.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Abby on the boardwalk off to the side. As his gaze touched her, she suddenly clasped one hand to her mouth and pointed to a window overhead.

"Marshal, look out!"

Kane turned, saw the man leaning out a hotel window with a rifle, and fired once. The gun clattered down the roof until it landed with a thud on the street. Moments later the owner's body followed suit, sprawling face down in the dirt at Kane's feet.

Kane stepped over the lifeless body and moved on, pausing briefly to tip his hat to Abby. "Thank you, ma'am," he said with a grimace at the horrified expression on her face. "Sorry you had to see that."

Abby could only swallow hard as she stared at him. She felt his gaze sweep over her in those few seconds. She was close enough to see the sincerity that made his eyes gleam, saw the warmth that made his gaze soften. She felt, more than she actually saw, the heat that came into his eyes as his gaze played over her features, then her body, before coming back to rest on her startled face.

When he had moved on down the street, herding the group of troublemakers, she felt sure that he had somehow insulted her. But how could she be sure when she'd never had a man look at her in quite that manner before?

"Oh my gosh! Abby! Did you see how he looked at you? You saved his life! How exciting!"

Betsy's gushing brought Abby's thoughts crashing back to the present. Grabbing up her skirts with one hand, she grabbed Betsy's hand with the other. "Come on, Betsy! Let's get out of here before my papa or yours comes along and catches us! My papa will have a fit!"

CHAPTER FOUR

Josiah Prescott did, indeed, have a fit. By the time Abby got back to the store, someone who had seen her at the scene of the shooting had already told her father. He railed at her for the next hour, telling her how foolish she had acted and how dangerous it was for her to even be on the street at times like that.

"Cimarron is not the same town it was a few weeks ago, Abigail," he told her for the fourth time. "Things have changed, the streets are full of vermin. It's not safe for a lady to be out, even in daylight anymore."

"That's why Marshal Darcy is here, papa," she tried to point out. Her head ached from his shouting and her bewilderment at how saving a man's life could have caused all this uproar.

"Marshal, my eye! He's no better than those men he arrested this afternoon. The only difference is the badge Judge Conners pinned on his chest. It just gave him the legal right to kill, that's all. And he's doing a fine job of it, I'd say! With a large measure of help from you!"

"Would it have been better to let that backshooter kill him, papa? So what if he's not the textbook lawman? This is not a textbook case. Our town is over-run with unsavory characters and Judge Connors has brought in someone who can deal with them. Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire."

Mr. Prescott stared at her in disbelief. "Don't tell me you approve of the judge's handling of this matter? Or maybe you're just so impressed with Kane Darcy's looks that you're missing the point?"

"What do you mean, Josiah?" Abby's mother asked. Deirdre Prescott had not spoken throughout the hour long tirade, but stayed in the background, fussing with her feather duster and wishing her husband would lower his voice before their personal family issues became public knowledge.

Josiah flashed her a surprised glance, as though just realizing she was in the room. "Your daughter was ogling this man just minutes before the shooting. Half the town noticed it. She couldn't keep her eyes off him."

"Oh my, Abby! Surely your father is exaggerating!"

"Of course he's exaggerating, mother," Abby said wearily.

"Did you, or did you not comment to Betsy Brennan that you liked the way Kane Darcy looked walking away?"

Mrs. Prescott's hand flew to her mouth in horror. For a moment, Abby thought her mother might actually faint.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, papa! It was a silly comment that two girls made about an attractive man. And Kane Darcy is attractive, papa. Very attractive. So what?"

"So what? So what?" her father roared. "Go to your room, young lady, and stay there until I decide what to do about your abominable actions this afternoon!"

Tears burned Abby's eyes as she leaped to her feet. "I don't understand why you're so angry, papa. I acted instinctively when I saw that man with a rifle. I knew he intended to shoot Marshal Darcy and all I did was warn him. What is so horrible about that?"

"You have indebted that man to you, that's what!" her father shouted. "By saving his life this afternoon, you have established a personal connection with him. You've given him the right to publicly acknowledge you. I will not have a man like that in our lives! I won't stand for it!"

"Well forgive me for trying to do the right thing!" Abby shouted back. "Should the situation ever arise again, you may rest assured that I'll let some low-life backshooter kill him. Will that make you happy?"

She knew immediately she'd gone too far. Raising her voice to her father was not tolerated, ever. The painful slap across her face that he automatically reacted with was not a surprise.

Stuffing hand into her mouth to choke back the sobs rising in her throat, she raced up the stairs at the back of the store that led to their living quarters. She ran down the hallway to her bedroom at the back of the second floor, slammed the door shut behind her, and flung herself face down across the bed.

She cried until sheer exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.

***

After several hours sleep, Kane felt almost human again. It was nearly dusk when he woke up in the comfortable bed in the hotel room Judge Connors had arranged for him. He crawled out of the bed, stretched and yawned, and began pulling on the clean clothes he'd laid out before going to sleep.

He tucked the long tailed, hunter green shirt into his trousers, sat down to pull on his boots and then reached for the gunbelt hanging over one of the bed posts. It only took a moment to strap on the weapon and tie it down. Pausing to glance at himself in the mirror above a scarred chest of drawers, he ran a hand over his face, smoothed back his hair and put on the Stetson.

He paused at the hotel desk to smile at the bespectacled little man who was behind it. "Thanks for the bath water, Gilbert. I feel like a new man."

The desk clerk gave him a nervous smile as he bobbed his head. "You're welcome, Marshal. Glad to be of service. Funny what a hot bath and a shave will do for you, isn't it?"

"It surely is, Gilbert," Kane answered as he tapped the registration desk with one long finger.

He nodded to a couple coming in from the afternoon stage as he headed for the door. It was dark now but still hot and uncomfortable. He could feel the sweat trickle down his back as he walked up the street toward the general store.

Knowing the store would be locked, he continued on around the building toward the outside staircase that led to the second floor living quarters of the Prescott family. It was amazing how much information you could get from a nervous little hotel clerk when he was filling your bath tub. In the space of ten minutes, Kane had learned more about the Prescott's than he needed to know, including the location of the stairway.

As he neared the backside of the building, he heard voices, one soft and female, the other masculine and raised in exasperation.

"I declare, Abby, I just don't understand you sometimes," Frederick Gaston said. He stood with one highly polished boot on the bottom step of the stair case, his arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his handsome face as he peered down at Abby.

She sat on the step, her shoulders hunched in defeat. She was looking down to avoid his gaze as she waited for an opening in his speech so she could get a word in. "Please, Frederick, I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm tired and my head hurts. I'm sorry, I made a mistake, is that what you want to hear? I should have let the marshal get killed, I'm almost sorry that I didn't. If I'd known what a mess I was making by warning him, I probably wouldn’t have."

"That's not what I mean, Abby. Of course you did the right thing by warning him. Knowing you, you could never have acted differently. It's how you act from now on that I'm concerned about. People are going to be watching you now, to see what happens next."

Abby let out a weary sigh. It was times like this that she didn't like Frederick much. His condescending attitude was irritating at best. Tonight it was almost unbearable. Glancing up at him in the moonlight, she had to check off the things about him that made her remember why she always counted herself lucky to have been chosen to be his girlfriend. While he continued on with his patronizing monologue, she mentally checked off those attributes.

He's attentive, sweet most of the time, respectful, honorable, very handsome, and oh, let's not forget papa's favorite, his father owns the bank and he has a secure future there.

"Are you listening to me, Abby?"

The question finally jerked Abby's thoughts back to the conversation. Her head bobbed automatically as she wondered what she'd missed. "Of course, Frederick," she murmured.

"So you promise you won't have anything further to do with this man?"

"What do you think I'm going to do, Frederick, run away with him?"

The irritation that crept into her voice made Frederick's finely arched brows raise in surprise. "Abigail Prescott! I'm surprised at you!"

"I'm sorry, Frederick. I told you, my head hurts something awful. This has been a horrible day."

"I know, sweetheart," Frederick murmured as he pulled her to her feet and took her into his arms. "But it's over now. Just forget it. And just hope that man forgets it as well," he said with his face buried in her hair.

"I rarely forget someone who saves my life."

Frederick and Abby both jerked upright and whirled around to find Kane leaning against the side of the building. Even in the diminishing light, Abby could see his eyes sparkle with amusement as he straightened up and moved toward them.

He was holding his hat in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "Miss Prescott, I am sincerely, and eternally grateful for your warning today. You did, indeed, save my life, and I want you to know that I appreciate it. I had no idea such a selfless act would bring you so much criticism."

"It seems you also make a practice of lurking in the shadows and eavesdropping on personal conversations," Frederick said haughtily.

"I wasn't lurking, and the term "conversations" implies that two people are talking to one another. From what I heard, you were doing all the talking."

Kane ignored the sharp intake of Frederick's breath as he walked up to the foot of the staircase. He extended the flowers toward Abby.

Frederick stepped between them, effectively putting Abby behind him. "She doesn't want your flowers."

"Really? I don't hear her saying anything. But then, you won't shut up long enough to give her a chance."

Frederick heard the edge in Kane's voice as he glared up at Kane in the dusk. It registered immediately but Frederick swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. He glanced down at the gun on Kane's hip, then at the marshal's badge on his chest, and finally at the man's face.

At six feet three, Kane was easily four inches taller than him and at least twenty pounds heavier. Frederick knew instinctively the extra weight was all muscle. He also knew his belligerence that worked so effectively with the bank employees made no impression on this man. If anything, Kane was laughing at him.

"I am Miss Prescott's beau. I speak for her. And I'll thank you to keep your distance. You've caused her quite enough distress for one day."

"I am truly sorry for that, Miss Prescott," Kane said to Abby, ignoring both Frederick and his statement. "I would have preferred things to have been done differently. A lady should never be subjected to that kind of thing. Please accept my apology."

"It's all right, Mr. Darcy," Abby murmured. She stepped from behind Frederick so she could see Kane clearly in the moonlight. He had obviously bathed, shaved, and changed clothes since the afternoon's events. The subtle scent of shaving soap reached her senses as she stared up at him. Betsy's right; he is stunning. And he smells so good.

She glanced at Frederick, wondering why she'd never noticed his cologne as clearly as she now noticed the scent of simple soap and water.

"No, Abby, it's not all right," Frederick was saying in that haughty tone that made her teeth grind. "How much plainer do I have to make it, Marshal? You're not welcome here."

Kane directed a steady gaze at the young man while he took a tighter grip on the anger beginning to course through his veins. "That's not for you to say."

Frederick made the mistake of reaching out and catching Kane's arm. Kane reacted instinctively. He turned so quickly Frederick didn't have time to realize it. A moment later he had the lapels of Frederick's expensive coat in one hand. The pressure behind the closed fist in his chest made Frederick's eyes widen with the effort to get his breath.

"When I want to hear from you, I'll tug on your rope," Kane said through clenched teeth. "Until then, keep your mouth shut until I conclude my business with the lady."

He let go of Frederick then, and turned back to Abby with no more thought to the younger man's coughing and wheezing as he rubbed his chest and struggled to find his breath.

"Miss Prescott, I hope you'll accept these flowers as a gesture of my gratitude," he said to Abby in a tone completely devoid of the fury she'd heard in him moments earlier.

She stared up at him in mute fascination, wondering how he could change moods so quickly. As angry as he'd been with Frederick, she somehow knew that he would never use that tone with her.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy," she said softly, looking down to avoid his gaze. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept them."

"I see." Kane let out a long breath, then stepped back. "All right, Miss Prescott, I understand. I'm sorry I bothered you. Have a nice evening."

Before she could respond, he had disappeared into the darkness beyond the side of the building. While Frederick blustered and fussed with his mussed clothing, she began to tremble. Rubbing her sweaty palms against her skirt, she stared after Kane into the darkness.

No, Mr. Darcy, you don't understand. Not at all.

CHAPTER FIVE

The red-haired woman smoothed her chignon and checked the feathers again as she passed the mirror on her way to the door. She opened the door, then turned back to blow Kane a kiss.

"I had a really good time. Let me know when you get lonely again, marshal," she said in a sultry voice. "Oh, and thanks for the flowers."

She smiled as she glanced down at the slightly wilted bouquet she was holding.

"You're welcome, Sally. I'll be talking to you."

The woman smiled and closed the door. Behind her, Kane kicked the sheet off and sat up on the edge of the bed. He ran both hands through his hair, then sat for a moment with his face in his hands. With a sigh, he got to his feet and walked naked to the window.

Pulling back the curtain, he looked down on the quiet street. It was long past midnight. The saloon was closed, most all the lights were out in Cimarron as he stood staring out into the darkness. Then he saw the light in the upstairs corner room of the Prescott place.

A shadow moved restlessly back and forth behind the curtain. A thoughtful expression came to his features as he realized that Miss Abigail Prescott was having a tough time sleeping tonight.

He watched her pace for another minute, then began pulling on his clothes. In short order he was dressed and heading out of his room. He took the back stairs from the hotel, moving quickly and silently through the darkness until he came to the corner of the courthouse, opposite the Prescott general store.

He leaned against one of the supporting columns, took a thin cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it. As he exhaled an aromatic plume of smoke, he glanced up and down the empty street again before settling his gaze on Abby's window.

Her shadow was no longer visible. Thinking that she had gone to bed, he flicked away the cigar ash, deciding what he was going to do with the rest of the night, when he saw her ease down the outside staircase.

She had not taken time to dress, but was wearing a summer wrapper over her nightgown as she silently tiptoed down the stairs to the street. He stood perfectly still as she looked up and down the street, then began walking leisurely away from her home.

What the devil is she up to?

Even as he followed her, he wondered why he was doing it. He figured she was probably stealing away to meet that snot-nosed beau of hers. If she was, it was none of his business, even if the young banker deserved a good ass-kicking. He had just about talked himself out of following her, when the sound of distant gunfire broke the quiet.

It was a good two miles away, but it reminded him of the danger a young girl could get into on her own in the middle of the night. He had no choice now but see where she was going, and make sure she got home safely.

Abby led him through the edge of town to the cemetery on the outskirts. It was peaceful as she pushed open the squeaking metal gates and slipped inside. A big full moon filtered through the oak trees that populated the cemetery, making it easy to find her way among the markers. The only sound that broke the silence was the crickets in the grass and the distant croaking of frogs in a stream a few hundred yards away.

She paused then and knelt down to lay a rose from her mother's garden on a grave. When she rose to her feet, she stood silently for a moment, lost in thought.

Kane watched her, mystified by her actions, and impressed by her ethereal beauty. Her golden hair was nearly waist long, shimmering in the moonlight like a cape of moon beams. She was totally unaware that he had followed her, or that he was close enough now to almost touch.

He saw her brush tears off her cheeks as she turned to leave. He quickly ducked behind a large oak and she walked past him, looking very young and virtuous. He wondered why that suddenly appealed to him. It never had before.

Keeping his distance on the way back home, he never let her out of his sight. He wished there had been time to take a look at the grave she had gone to visit, but he didn't dare lose sight of her. Quiet still pervaded the night, but with the less than honorable element in town, he knew that could all change in a moment's notice.

Hell, he thought with a grin as he followed her back toward home, things being what they are, she's no safer with me than with the riff-raff in town. Not much anyway.

Damn, I've got to find some way to keep her from taking these little midnight strolls, unless I want to follow her around in the dark every night. Can't have her doing this by herself, it isn't safe. Can't be following her either, what with the way the moon makes her hair gleam. Jesus, couldn't she at least get dressed before she does something this stupid? Ought to be a law against a girl that pretty, wearing so little, wandering around all by herself…

Then he reminded himself that he was the law. The thought almost made him laugh out loud. Pinning this badge on me is like putting the fox in the chicken coop to guard the chickens.

He stayed in the shadows as Abby reached the bottom of the staircase. She quickly looked around, then dashed up them and eased back into the house. A few moments later the lamp went out and her room went dark.

Kane lingered outside for a while, pausing to re-light his cigar which had long since gone out. He leaned against the adjoining building, smoking silently and thinking about Abby Prescott.

Young, too damned young. I'm old enough to be her…older brother. Probably never been kissed, except maybe by that snotty boy-banker. For damned sure, she's never been around anybody like me.

He shook his head, surprised at where his thoughts were leading. Naw, forget it, Kane. Remember what the judge said. No funny business with Cimarron's nice girls. He moved into the street then, in the direction of the hotel, fearing that sleep would be impossible after seeing Miss Abigail Prescott's slender, fragile beauty on her midnight stroll.

CHAPTER SIX

The following morning Kane leaned against the porch support of the sheriff's office, smoking, as he watched the citizens of Cimarron gather for church. He suspected those Sunday mornings had until recently been a time of neighborly conversation as the people leisurely walked down the street toward the white clapboard church at the edge of town.

No one was walking leisurely this morning. Families stuck close together as they moved briskly down the street. No one took time to chat, but made their way quickly to the church. From the boardwalks, hung-over ruffians lounged, eyeing the populace, making obnoxious cat-calls at the women, and generally being a nuisance.

Judge Connors came from his breakfast at the hotel restaurant across the street to join Kane on the porch. He wiped at his brow with a large white handkerchief as he squinted up at the blazing sun. "Going to be another scorcher."

Kane grunted in agreement but his attention was on the Prescott family as they came down their back stairs and entered the street. Josiah Prescott looked as formidable in his Sunday best as Kane figured he would. Black suit, starched white shirt, gleaming black boots, and a scowl that would put any sinner scurrying for cover.

Mrs. Prescott was a more mature version of her daughter. Tall, thin, with hair only slighter darker than Abby's, Deirdre Prescott was an attractive woman, but she looked nervous. Her gaze bounced from one person to the next, like a deer watching for a hunter. The brief stare she shot him was amusing.

She obviously wanted to see what all the fuss was about, Kane thought as her gaze swept over him quickly before she lifted her chin and stared straight ahead. Wouldn't do for upright Mr. Prescott to catch you looking at me, now would it, Mrs. Prescott?

The grin that had begun at Mrs. Prescott's furtive inspection vanished immediately when Josiah abruptly changed direction and propelled his startled family toward the porch where Kane and the judge stood.

"Uh-oh," Judge Connors muttered. "Here comes trouble."

"Morning, Mrs. Prescott, Abigail. Morning, Josiah," he said with a stiff smile as the trio halted in front of the porch.

"I don't have time for platitudes, Amos," Josiah said with a meaningful glance at Kane. "I just want to make my objections to your handling of this situation perfectly clear."

"Again?"

Josiah ignored the sarcasm in Judge Connors' reply. Instead, he looked directly at Kane as he moved a step away from his wife and daughter. His eyes were narrowed with contempt as he jabbed a finger in Kane's chest.

"That badge don't fool nobody, Darcy. You're not one hair better than the rest of this gang of hooligans the judge brought you here to get rid of. Just luckier. For some strange reason, Judge Connors thinks he can redeem your worthless hide.

"But I'm telling you, I know your kind and I'll be watching you. You make one wrong move and I'll go over the judge's head to the governor. You cross me, young man, and I'll personally make sure that you serve the rest of that prison sentence."

Kane heard Abby's soft gasp. Until this moment, she obviously didn't know that bit of information. He suspected her father relished breaking the news. He glanced at her to find her brilliant blue-eyed gaze was locked with his. She looked surprised, embarrassed, and a bit disappointed. Then she quickly averted her gaze.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Mr. Prescott," he drawled, returning his attention to her father. "I'll do my best to live up to it."

"Josiah, this is not the time…" Judge Connors began but Josiah cut him off.

"You're not fooling me, young man. You're no damned good. I told Judge Connors he was making a big mistake by bringing you here. I told him it would be nothing but more trouble. The very idea! Bringing in a hired killer!"

"What makes you think I'm getting paid to kill? Maybe I'm doing it for nothing. Maybe I like it."

The sarcasm in Kane's voice made Mrs. Prescott gasp. It made Abby want to giggle. She glanced up at him, both admiring the way he turned her father's wrath into the comical nonsense it was, and the sparkle in his eyes as he did it. He knows Papa is being a pompous ass and he isn't afraid to let him know it. Bravo, Mr. Darcy!

"You've got some nerve, young man!"

"So I've been told."

Josiah followed Kane's glance toward Abby and was enraged. He jabbed his finger at the badge on Kane's chest, his face flooding with anger. "And you stay away from my daughter! I forbid you to speak to her! Do you understand?"

Kane straightened up and moved back a step. Rubbing the badge with the heel of one hand, he smiled at Josiah, showing a mouthful of white teeth. "Easy, Mr. Prescott, you're denting my badge."

Josiah spluttered for a moment, then spun about on his heel and began hurrying away with his wife and Abby in tow. As she turned at the insistence of her father's hand on her arm, Abby caught Kane's parting wink. She blushed and looked away but not before the smile she was trying to erase broke free for just an instant. She would have looked back over her shoulder at him as her father hustled her down the street, but she didn't dare.

Jeez, he's not only magnificent looking, but he put Papa in his place. I admire that, Mr. Darcy. Good for you! she thought as Josiah hurried them up the church steps.

***

"You took that awfully well."

Kane glanced at the judge. He stuck the thin cigar between his teeth and grinned around it. "What's that?"

"Josiah Prescott's none too subtle insults. I would have expected a different reaction."

Kane shrugged while he watched the Prescott family climb the church steps. "I've been around people like him all my life, Your Honor. Trading insults is a waste of time. He's formed an opinion of me, and nothing I say or do is likely to change it, so why bother?"

Judge Connors studied his young marshal thoughtfully for a moment. "The opinion he's formed is of your reputation, Kane. Not you. He doesn't know a blessed thing about you."

"Same thing, Your Honor."

Amos decided not to voice his thoughts on that subject. He wiped at his sweaty brow as he stared up at Kane, who was once more leaning one shoulder against the porch column. "So you decided to use humor as a weapon instead of your fists."

Kane flashed him a grin. "I wasn't much of a fighter when I was a kid. I learned real quick that the best way to avoid getting the crap beat out of me was to not get mad and start throwing punches."

"And how old were you when you made this startling revelation?"

"About six. When you grow up in a whorehouse, you either learn to fight, or to avoid fights. I've been insulted by far better than Mr. Prescott. He's a rank amateur compared to some of the stuff I've had thrown at me."

Amos' bushy brows arched in surprise. Not at the information Kane had just revealed, but at the nonchalant way he said it. Amos wondered just how casual he really was. He had no trouble picturing a six year old boy with a mop of black hair and eyes almost as dark being tormented by other children who were lucky enough to have been born into a better station in life.

"You seem to have risen above it all right," he said after a moment. "Or are the scars just buried too deep to be seen at first glance?"

Kane exhaled and flicked the cigar ash into the street, then flashed another of those disarming smiles. "Everybody has scars, Your Honor. Some just take longer to heal than others, that's all. It'll take somebody a lot sharper than Josiah Prescott to keep me awake nights worrying about they think of me."

"Somebody like Abigail Prescott?"

"Now why would pretty little Abigail Prescott keep me awake at night?"

"If I know you, Kane, you're already lying awake at night trying to figure a way into her underwear."

"Why, Your Honor, I'm surprised at you," Kane drawled with a grin. "As I recall, you told me in no uncertain terms what would happen if I tried to impress Abigail Prescott with my manly attributes. Surely you don't think I'd ever deliberately ignore your wishes, now do you?"

Amos snorted as he stuffed the handkerchief into a vest pocket. He straightened his coat as he pinned a meaningful glare on Kane. "Not if you want to stay out jail. Now, I've got work to do. See what you can do about maintaining law and order, will you?"

"I'll do my best, Your Honor," Kane replied, grinning at the scowl on the judge's face. "In fact, I think I'll go and arrest somebody. The paperwork alone ought to keep you busy for a week."

"If you think a mountain of paperwork is going to prevent me from keeping an eye on you, you're wrong. I can do both, Marshal. Been doing it now for thirty years."

"Then you must be pretty damned cross-eyed by now," Kane said, chuckling as he moved off the porch.

Behind him, Amos Connors almost chuckled aloud as well, but caught himself in time. Watching the broad shouldered young man walking away from him across the street, he shook his head. Who've had thought that his plan to make Kane Darcy a marshal would be so much fun? Amos hadn't had this much fun in years.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Abby walked up the street beside Betsy after church, a few paces behind their parents. Carrying a Bible and a hymn book clutched to their chests as they walked up the dusty street, they looked very angelic.

"There he is," Betsy whispered, leaning her head closer so that only Abby could hear her. "Over there, in front of the saloon."

Abby turned her head slightly to bring the object of Betsy's interest into focus. In spite of her father's fury and Frederick's reproach, she felt heat rush into her face at the sight of Kane Darcy walking leisurely along the boardwalk abreast of them.

"I see him."

"Well, do something! He's looking at you."

"What do you want me to? Whistle?"

Betsy sighed. "Smile, wave, something."

"I can't, Betsy, and you know it. Is he still looking?"

"He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he saw us. Oh my, Abby, have you noticed what that shade of green does for his coloring? He's absolutely…."

"Dangerous," Abby said as she risked another glance at Kane. "Very dangerous."

"Yes, but that's part of the excitement. Anybody can be dull and boring."

"Like Frederick?"

"You said that, Abby, not me. No, it's more than that. Frederick is okay for a boy, but Kane Darcy is a real man. Oh my, I've never seen a man like him before, and neither have you."

"I'll admit that," Abby said reluctantly. "But I've gotten into enough trouble because of him. I'm not allowed to leave the house for a week."

"Admiring a really handsome man isn't a sin, Abby. If it was, I'd have dropped dead about a hundred yards ago."

"I don't think my father would agree with you. He thinks Mr. Darcy is the devil incarnate. He's forbidden me to even speak to him. And he had the nerve to say the same thing to Mr. Darcy before church. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to crawl under the porch."

"Talking to him isn't a sin either," Betsy said stoutly, then quickly lowered her voice when Mr. Prescott looked over his shoulder at them.

"You seem to forget Frederick."

"Oh, pooh on Frederick! You're not engaged to him. You're a free woman, Abby. There's nothing to keep you from talking to Mr. Darcy."

"Nothing but my father's everlasting wrath. Besides, he's been in prison. Who knows what he did to get sent there?"

"That only adds to his mystique. I bet it was some lover's quarrel. Something really romantic."

Abby bit her lip to keep from giggling aloud. "It was more likely a poker game or something equally as scandalous. You've been reading too much poetry, Betsy."

"Mr. Darcy's past sins are none of our business."

"That's right. Mr. Darcy is none of our business. The further he stays away from both of us, the better. I, for one, don't need his kind of trouble."

Betsy looked at her incredulously as they picked up their pace a bit. They were lagging behind Abby's parents now a good twenty feet. "I think his kind of trouble is just what you need. You might never know what hit you, but you'd sure know you'd been hit."

"Betsy Brennan, you're impossible!"

Abby was well aware that Kane had halted on the boardwalk as they passed. She was mortified when Betsy actually lifted a hand and waved at him.

One of the drifters on the boardwalk mistook the gesture as being meant for him. His unshaven face broke into a wide grin at the girls. "Hey there, little ladies! Let me buy you a drink!"

A second later he was on his back on the boardwalk, gasping for breath. Kane's well placed elbow in his solar plexus took him by surprise and knocked the breath out of him.

"If you ever speak to either of those young women like that again, I'll break every rib you've got," Kane said softly as he reached down and pulled the man to his feet. He brushed the man off, then put a hand in his back and pushed the man in the opposite direction.

From the street, it looked like the man had simply fallen down. Neither Abby nor Betsy had any idea that Kane had stopped his obnoxious greeting, but the diversion caused Josiah Prescott to halt and wait for the girls to catch up. He caught Abby's arm and propelled her up the street, glaring at Kane over his shoulder.

Kane watched them until they reached the Prescott place before he moved on. As he walked down the boardwalk toward the saloon's inviting bat-wing doors, he let out a long breath. Now, just what the hell did you do that for, he asked himself. All he did was mistake that little filly's wave. You probably broke at least one rib for him. And you know damned well he wasn't thinking anything you weren't.

He shoved the swinging doors open and headed straight for the bar. Sally, the red-headed woman from the previous evening sacheted up to him with an inviting smile. She poured herself a drink from his bottle and sipped it with sultry invitation, making it obvious that she was available. Even as Kane took her arm and headed for the staircase, he was thinking about a golden haired, blue-eyed angel carrying a Bible and a hymnal.

***

Kane was so absorbed in the red-haired prostitute's charms that he didn't hear the first gunshot. By the time he heard the second, his body was too far gone to pay any attention. As he recovered from the volcano exploding inside him, a third shot broke the Sunday afternoon quiet.

"Shit!" he said as he rolled off the woman. He dashed to the window and threw back the curtain, cursing at the bedside table that got in his way and barked his shins.

"What is it, honey?"

"Some stupid cowboy with the world's worst timing."

Kane grabbed his pants, jerked them on, and threw on his shirt. He snatched up his gunbelt from the bed poster, but didn't take time to dig his boots from beneath the bed as he sprinted out the door and into the hallway.

A few seconds later he appeared on the front porch of the saloon just in time to see two desperadoes shooting at each other from opposite sides of the street. One was behind the water trough located in front of the laundry, and the other behind a porch column just a few feet from the saloon's entrance.

Kane watched the activity for a second as the two men emptied their guns at each other without either one scoring a hit. As they paused to reload, Kane walked up behind the one on the saloon porch and cracked him on the head with the barrel of his pistol. Then, limping barefoot across the street, he walked directly toward the other one, who was busily shoving bullets into his gun.

"Shit!" Kane said as his bare feet burned on the scorching hot stones in the street. He reached the second gunman just as the man finished loading his gun. When the man raised it to shoot, with the weapon pointed directly at Kane's chest, Kane grabbed him by the wrist with his free hand, and hit him in the side of the head with his gun.

The man's eyes rolled back in his head, then he slumped over into the water trough head first.

"You going to pull him out of there or let him drown?"

Kane looked up as he dropped his gun back into the holster to see Judge Connors leaning against the laundry's front door, lighting a cigar.

"He can drown for all I care, the stupid son-of-a-bitch!"

"And cheat me out of getting him in front of my court? Not on your life. Pull him out of there before he blubbers for the third time."

Kane snorted and limped around the end of the trough. He caught the man's collar and yanked his head out of the water. When he let go, the man slid into a gasping, dripping heap at his bare feet.

"Okay, he won't drown. Are you happy now?"

Judge Connors smiled as he nodded. His gaze attached itself to Kane's bare feet, then traveled upward, noting the open shirt hanging loose, the tousled hair and rouge stains across his neck.

"Looks like you were busy when the shooting started. Where are your boots?"

"Under a bed on the second floor. Right where I left them."

Amos grinned at the aggravation that made Kane's eyes gleam. "Well, soon as you get these two locked up, you can go back to what you were doing."

"I plan to," Kane grunted as he lifted the semi-conscious man to his feet by the shirt collar. "Come on you, let this be a lesson to you. Don't start shooting up the town while I'm enjoying a little Sunday recreation. It isn't polite to interrupt a man when he's recreating."

Amos chuckled out loud as Kane hauled the man off to jail. After he crossed the street to recover the second gunman and deposited him in jail, he limped back across the street to the saloon and disappeared inside without even a backward glance.

***

Abby stood at her bedroom window staring down on the flurry of activity on Main Street. Her heart was racing, her palms sweating profusely as she watched Kane stop the shooting and put the troublemakers in jail. She thought her heart would jump out of her chest when she saw him walk across the street directly into the line of fire from that man's gun. When the man had raised his weapon to fire, she thought for sure Kane was going to be killed.

There was no explaining the relief that swept through her when he took the gun away from the man without so much as another shot being fired. Relieved tears stung her eyes momentarily as she let out a huge sigh.

Then watching him walk back across the street, she felt a rush of unfamiliar heat wash over her at the sight of his bare torso glistening in the afternoon sun. Without a hat, his hair was so black, it gleamed as he walked across the street. It was longer than she had thought but somehow that only enhanced his masculinity.

She had never seen a man without a shirt, not even her father. The sight of Kane Darcy's hairy chest beneath the open shirt made her pulse race. Her throat suddenly felt dry and her lips wooden, as she stared at him in open admiration.

"Oh my," she whispered out loud.

She whipped the curtains back into place and leaned against the window frame, amazed to find her palms were sweaty and her knees were weak. "Oh, my, indeed!"

CHAPTER EIGHT

Abby was almost finished sweeping off the front porch of the store the following morning when she glanced up to see Kane walking toward her. She kept her head down, half hoping he would pass right on by, the other half hoping he wouldn't. When she glanced up again, it was obvious that he intended to ignore her father's orders for he was wearing one of those irresistible smiles that made his lips twitch beneath the thick moustache.

"Good morning, Miss Prescott. You're looking very fetching this morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy. And thank you."

She tried to keep her head down but the unexpected compliment was impossible to disregard. When she raised her head, she discovered that he was standing right in front of her, his weight on one leg, his thumbs hooked in his gunbelt, his hat pushed back revealing the most intriguing pair of eyes she'd ever seen. They were almost as dark as his hair, sparkling with humor, and framed by lashes any woman would envy.

His expression was friendly, his stance non-threatening. She didn't see anything about him that was in the least frightening. What she did see was a very handsome man, clean shaven except for the moustache, well dressed in a manner that accented his broad shoulders and powerful physique. He was wearing a red shirt beneath the black vest, tucked into dark, well fitting trousers. The color emphasized his dark coloring, making his teeth a flash of white when he smiled.

"Would you take off your hat please?"

Kane stared at her for a moment, then removed the Stetson.

"Where are they, Mr. Darcy?"

"Excuse me?"

"The horns. My father seems to think that you're kin to Satan himself. I wanted to see if you actually have horns."

Kane laughed as he put the hat back on. "Sorry to disappoint your father, Miss Prescott, but I don't have any horns."

Abby's smile was so bright it almost hurt his eyes when she looked up at him. She was at least a foot shorter than he, dressed in a simple gingham dress of a blue and white checkered pattern. Her long golden hair was pinned up on top of her head in a causal chignon that simultaneously accented both her innocence and her maturity. It was a heady combination.

"I'm glad to hear that. I'd really hate to think that I've been banished to my room for a week for warning a man who turned out to be a demon."

"Miss Prescott, I fear your father's demons are of the imaginary kind. But I am truly sorry that you're being punished for your kindness."

Abby glanced around toward the store's entrance. Then turning back to Kane, she smiled again, this time a bit ruefully. "It's all right, Mr. Darcy. I am truly glad that I was able to help. In spite of what my father thinks, I'm very grateful that you're here."

"Really?"

Her head bobbed in a confident nod. "Yes. I've lived in Cimarron all my life but the past few weeks I've been uncomfortable leaving my own home. I think Judge Connors made the right decision by asking you to come here and rid us of the troublemakers."

"Miss Prescott, I'm happy to be of service."

"But it's a dangerous job. You will be careful, won't you?"

Kane grinned as he adjusted his hat. "I surely will, Miss Prescott. Good day."

"Good day, Mr. Darcy."

It was a struggle to keep from watching him walk away. She began sweeping furiously until she heard his footsteps recede down the boardwalk. Then she leaned on the broom handle and let out a long breath. Good day, Mr. Darcy? It's an absolutely fantastic day.

***

By noon, Abby's perceptions of a wonderful day were diminishing by the moment. After sweeping the porch she spent the remainder of the morning helping out in the store. The main topic of conversation was Marshal Kane Darcy and his blemished past, or at least what people knew about it. The rest they were only too happy to make up.

"I heard he was in prison for murder," she heard Mrs. Grossett say to her neighbor Mrs. King across the fabric table.

"I heard that he killed a half dozen people," Mrs. King agreed with a somber nod.

"I heard that he was supposed to hang but Judge Connors took pity on him because of his terrible upbringing," the first matron went on.

"What about his upbringing?" another lady asked from across the aisle.

"Oh, it was terrible," Mrs. Grossett said as she laid aside the fabric she had been examining. "It's no wonder the poor boy has turned out the way he has. What with his being raised in a brothel."

"You don't say!" Mrs. King said, aghast at this news.

"Oh, yes. His mother was a whore! What can you expect from someone who was raised by a person like that? Why, I suppose it's only by the grace of God that he's no worse than he is."

It took all Abby's will power not to give the trio of ladies a piece of her mind. But one glance at her poor mother's worried face convinced her to keep her thoughts to herself.

"And that way of his with women!" Mrs. Grossett went on. "Why, there hasn't been a woman in that horrid saloon that he hasn't been with since he hit town."

"Isn't that the truth!" Mrs. King agreed. "Why, yesterday when he broke up that shooting, he was half naked! Came out of the saloon half dressed with rouge all over him! And went right back in there for more of the same as soon as he locked up those men."

"Why, it's disgraceful!" the third lady agreed with a sorrowful shake of her head.

And if either of you told the honest truth, you were gaping at him the whole time, wishing he had left the rest of his clothes inside the saloon, Abby thought furiously as she dusted a display of canned goods.

The idea that he had been with a woman when duty called was no surprise to Abby. She had come to that conclusion herself when she saw him from her bedroom window. There were very few reasons a man would emerge from a saloon teeming with prostitutes in the middle of the afternoon, without his boots and his shirt unbuttoned. The conclusion was obvious.

His behavior leaves a great deal to be desired, but somehow I don't think what Mr. Darcy was doing at the saloon is all that much worse than the three of you upstanding ladies gossiping about it.

"Why, there isn't a woman safe in this town!" Mrs. Grossett declared as she put a packet of buttons in her basket. "He's flirted with every female he's encountered! No one is safe!"

"And he's the law!" Mrs. King said. "I declare, I don't know how we're any better off since he came here."

"Well, he has put a stop to those disgusting men hanging around the saloon, leering at everyone who passes."

This was a major concession from Mrs. Grossett, who looked as though the mere thought that Kane Darcy had done something worthwhile pained her.

"Well, yes, that is true," Mrs. King agreed slowly. "I wasn't accosted even once on my way to the store today."

As if anyone would accost you, Mrs. King! You weigh close to three hundred pounds and you smell like a billy goat!

"I admit he's done some good, but I'm afraid to let my Myrtle out of the house," Mrs. Grossett said.

I don't blame you. She'd scare the children! Even the neighborhood dogs howl when they see her!

"Well, I for one, will be glad when he's gone. A man like that can only bring more trouble to our town. I say good riddance to him and those ruffians he's got locked up."

"But what will people have to gossip about when he's gone?"

Abby could not resist the remark as she made a production of straightening the rolls of fabric on the table near the three women. The shocked expressions that the customers directed at her plainly said that they completely missed the barb of sarcasm in her statement.

They quickly finished up their shopping and hurried to the counter to pay for their purchases, then left the store together. After a short pause on the porch outside, they all turned to look at her over their shoulders before hurrying away with their heads together whispering.

One glance at her mother's mortified face told Abby she had gone too far again. It was only a matter of time before her father was informed of her behavior. She sighed, knowing it would probably be time to catch the stage to Aunt Clara's before her father would let her out of her room this time.

Why am I defending him anyway? she asked herself while her mother sadly shook her head. They're probably right about him. He's a rake, for certain, and a criminal too. He's absolutely nothing but trouble. Trouble with a capital T. And I'm not going to get myself in anymore hot water because of him. Even if he is the most superb example of manhood that's ever hit this town. I'm ignoring him from now on. I'm ignoring him completely.

CHAPTER NINE

Abby stared out her bedroom window at the darkened street below. It was well after midnight but sleep had evaded her. Even with all the windows open, there was little breeze to break the stifling heat of the July night. She was sweaty, tired, and thoroughly disgusted as she paced the room one more time.

Dinner had been a nightmare. Being subjected to an hour long lecture by her father had destroyed any appetite she may have had. And having to look at her mother's reproving face didn't help things any. The worst part of the whole evening had been Frederick's silent reproach. He had not uttered one word about the incident with the three gossipy customers, but it was obvious that he agreed wholeheartedly with her parents.

By the time the meal was over, she was sick at her stomach and ready to burst into tears. She was thankful that Frederick took his disapproval home immediately after the table was cleared. She did not have the strength nor the patience to deal with him a moment longer, so she saw him to the door, slammed it shut behind him, and went straight to her room. She had been there sweltering in the heat and humidity ever since. Neither of her parents had even come to her door to bid her goodnight.

Now, she felt as though the walls were closing in around her. Unable to stand it another moment, she slipped into her summer wrap and house shoes. A moment later she was slipping down the exterior staircase to the street.

As she walked briskly through the shadows, she kept a wary eye open for malcontents who might be prowling the streets at this hour, but neither heard, nor saw anyone. She reached the cemetery at the edge of town in only a few minutes.

As she pushed the creaky gate open, she felt a cool breeze filter down from the oaks that encased the cemetery. She was filled almost immediately with an inner peace that more and more, she was only able to find in this place. Probably because all the people here are dead. They can't yell at me or look at me with those sad, disapproving eyes and make me feel like a criminal.

She made her way through the cemetery to the grave beneath the huge oak and knelt down to brush away the leaves.

"Don't you think it would safer to do this in daylight?"

The sound of Kane's voice from the shadows made her jump and let out a gasp. She leaped to her feet. As she whirled around, he moved from the shadows into plain sight in the moonlight.

"Mr. Darcy! My goodness! You startled me!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Following you," Kane replied as he moved around her to get a closer look at the grave marker. Glancing back at her, he found it impossible not to notice how beautiful she was, and how vulnerable.

"Why?"

"This is a wild town, Miss Prescott. Or have you forgotten already?"

His tone was harsher than he intended. He was instantly sorry for the bewilderment that flashed into Abby's face.

Her hair fanned out like a golden cloud when she shook her head in answer to his question. "I haven't forgotten, Mr. Darcy. But I've been coming here for years. I don't intend to let a few low-life drifters stop me now."

"You haven't answered my question, Miss Prescott. Why don't you wait until daylight to make this visit?"

"I can't. Papa forbids it."

Kane's brows rose in surprise. The girl was looking down to avoid his gaze, and fidgeting with her sleeves, but he didn't believe her nervousness was because she was alone with him in a deserted cemetery in the middle of the night.

"Micah Prescott," he read from the stone marker. "Your brother?"

Abby nodded, still staring down at the grave. "Yes. He died three years ago. He was only seven years old."

"What happened to him?"

"A flu epidemic. A lot of people in Cimarron died that winter. Micah, Betsy's sister Beth, and a lot of others, mostly children. Micah's death almost killed my mother, she's never been the same since."

Abby glanced up at him then, wondering what it was about him that made it so easy to talk to him. She had never even talked to Frederick about Micah, it was still too painful. So why could she tell her most personal thoughts to this man she hardly knew?

"I'm sorry. But you haven't explained why your father forbids you to come here."

Kane's tone was more gentle now, his eyes warmer as she stared up at him in the moonlight. Tears burned her eyes, but she wiped one sleeve over her face, and took a deep breath.

"My father says that Micah is dead, and there's no point in dredging it up. He says we have to forget it and go on."

"You don't agree with that?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, I don't. Micah was my brother. I loved him. I will always love him. I don't want to forget him. Is that so hard to understand?"

Kane shook his head as he stared at the tears on her face. He cleared his throat and looked away from her. "No, Miss Prescott, it makes perfect sense to me. When you love someone, they're always with you, even after death, if you remember them."

Abby stared at him, surprised at the depth of his understanding. No one except Betsy had ever understood her feelings about Micah, until now. It was a disturbing thought to know that the only person who understood was a man who was as dangerous as he was handsome.

"You say that like you know from your own experience, Mr. Darcy," she said finally.

"Maybe I do."

They stared at one another silently for a few moments until the half smoked cigar in his hand burned Kane's fingers. He dropped it with a startled gasp, then crushed it out with his boot heel.

"It's late, Miss Prescott. Time you were in bed."

He took her arm and turned her away from the grave, leading her back through the deserted cemetery. When he closed the creaking gate, he took her arm again and walked in silence for a while.

Abby glanced up at him from time to time, appreciating both his blatant masculinity and his kindness. His hand on her arm was strong, yet gentle. She felt very safe, then realized how foolish that would sound to anyone else. She was alone with a man who had just been released from prison for doing only God knew what, in the middle of the night, too far from anyone to expect any assistance if he decided to attack her. Glancing up at him, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that she had never been safer in her life than at this moment.

"I'm sorry that warning me has caused you trouble."

"I'm sorry if I was rude to you when you came to the house the other night," she said, glancing up at him. "The flowers were really very sweet."

"Your boyfriend didn't think so."

"Frederick can be a bit much sometimes. I'm sorry if he offended you."

"Do you make a habit of apologizing for him?"

Abby looked startled at the question, then she dropped her gaze with a slight shrug. "No. Not as a rule. But he was very rude to you."

"Does he always speak for you?"

Abby stared up at him in bewilderment. "I can speak for myself just fine."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Kane said with a grin.

"I doubt that you let many people get away with what Frederick did, grabbing you the way he did."

"I don't."

"Why did you let him get away with it?"

Kane looked down at her, trying to decide just what she was getting at. Her upturned face was framed by the moonlight. Her eyes were bright with curiosity, her lips slightly parted, waiting for an answer.

"You'd already seen me commit one violent act that day, Miss Prescott. I didn't think you needed to see another one."

"If you're not careful, Mr. Darcy, you're going to ruin your bad reputation. All I've heard today from my father, Frederick, and everyone else that came into the store, is what a terrible man you are. My father has forbidden me to speak to you. Frederick thinks I acted foolishly by warning you, and my mother is afraid the neighbors are going to talk. Just what have you done, Mr. Darcy, that's so terrible?"

Kane grinned at her as they came to a halt in the shadows behind the store. He let go of her arm and stepped back. "Miss Prescott, take my advice and don't take anymore midnight walks until things get back to normal around here. I may not always be around to make sure you stay out of trouble."

Abby moved toward the staircase, then paused to throw him a parting glance over her shoulder. "Mr. Darcy, if my parents had any idea that I've been out tonight, or that you escorted me home safely, I'd be locked in my room until I become old and gray."

"Then we won't tell them, will we?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, we won't. Thank you for your concern. Good night."

"Goodnight, Miss Prescott. You're much too pretty to spend all that time locked in your room."

Abby blushed at the compliment but didn't know how to respond to it. She stared at him for a moment, then scampered up the stairs and let herself back into the house. When she was safely back in her room, she peeked out the window, halfway expecting to find him still standing in the shadows. He wasn't.

She threw off the wrapper and went to bed. Lying in the humid darkness, she replayed the encounter with him over in her mind. For a man who was supposed to be as evil as Satan himself, Kane Darcy had conducted himself in a very proper manner. She had felt safer in his company than at any time since all the trouble had come to Cimarron.

So why did remembering that disarming smile of his make her blush in the darkness? Then she remembered her father's angry warning. With a sigh, she turned over in bed and punched her pillow. Kane Darcy was the most exciting man she had ever met and she wasn't allowed to even talk to him publicly. A small still voice in her head told her that was probably for her own good.

CHAPTER TEN

Abby swore under her breath as she struggled with the heavy basket. She switched it from one hand to the other every few minutes but it was still making her hands and her back ache. Not that she minded carrying Mrs. Barnett's eggs and butter to the store, but she was still a block away and the darn thing seemed to be getting heavier with each step.

As she passed the saloon, she kept her head up and her eyes focused straight ahead, pointedly ignoring the leering stares from the unkempt men lounging about on the front porch.

One of the men stepped off the boardwalk, walking toward her. She picked up her pace, switching the basket again.

"Hey, there, little lady, would you like some help?" the man said as he approached.

"No thank you!"

"Looks like that there basket is mighty heavy for a little gal like you."

"She said no."

Abby gave a silent sigh of relief at the sound of Kane's voice as he crossed the street behind her. A moment later, his meaningful glare sent the man scurrying back to the saloon while he took the basket from her at the same time.

"I can manage, Mr. Darcy."

"I'm sure you can." Kane slowed his stride to keep pace with her shorter legs. "But with the audience this morning, I think I'll carry this for you just the same."

She didn’t have the heart to protest, especially when a quick glance over her shoulder revealed the half dozen pairs of eyes watching her every movement.
"Don't those men have anything better to do?" she said irritably.

"Well, Miss Prescott, it's awfully hard for any man with two good eyes not to notice you, especially when you look so pretty this morning."

She blushed at the compliment but said nothing. Her tongue felt thick and her palms had begun to sweat when his hand brushed hers when he took the basket from her. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Darcy, but I don't think my father is going to like it."

"You let me worry about that," Kane replied with a smile.

You're not the one who'll be ordered to stay in the house, she thought, but his easy manner helped push her father's admonitions to the back of her mind.

"You look tired, Mr. Darcy. Long night?"

Kane glanced down at her upturned face with its inquisitive bright eyes. "Yes, ma'am. This job doesn't give a man much time to sleep."

"Trouble?"

His broad shoulders made a brief shrug. "A little. Nothing I can't handle. A couple of fights at the crack of dawn and some fool that decided he was going to take a horse from the livery that didn't belong to him."

"The jail must be getting very full by now."

"No, not really. Judge Connors has pretty well kept pace with my arrests. The first batch is well on their way to greener pastures after their appearance in his court. I don't think they'll be back."

"That's good news. But it doesn't keep more from coming into town. I'm afraid only ending the feud between the ranchers is going to do that."

"They'll get tired of killing each other sooner or later. That kind always do."

"Do you have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, Mr. Darcy?"

"More than my share. But the ranchers are not my problem. The riffraff in town is."

"I'd say you were doing a remarkable job of keeping them in line. Even the old biddies in papa's store have to admit that."

Kane grinned again. He could imagine the talk that had been going on. Some of it he'd heard, the rest was not hard to picture.

"You know, Miss Prescott, after a hard day's work of breaking up fights and catching horse thieves, a good meal would sure be a nice way to end the day, don't you think?"

When Abby looked up at him in surprise, Kane saw that she was baffled by his question. "I mean, the hotel restaurant serves a good steak."

When her expression remained confused, he cleared his throat and tried again. "What I'm trying to say, Miss Prescott, is would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?"

Abby's chin dropped. Her eyes widened with shock, then a blush began at her neckline and rushed into her face as she stared at him. "I-I-I-" She stopped stammering, took a deep breath and looked up in his dancing eyes again. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Darcy, but I can't."

"I'm not trying to be kind, Miss Prescott, I'm trying to ask you to dinner."

"Thank you, but no. I can't have dinner with you."

"Because your father would have a fit, or because you don't want to?"

Abby's blush deepened and she looked away from his curious gaze. "I-I-I have a beau, Mr. Darcy. Have you forgotten?"

"No, ma’am" Kane answered, shaking his head. "But I'm not asking Frederick to dinner. I'm asking you."

Abby wondered for an instant if he was making fun of her, but the insistent way his eyes had warmed told her that thought was incorrect. Her heart did a funny little leap as she stared at him in astonishment.

"I can't have dinner with you, Mr. Darcy. Goodness, I'm not even supposed to be speaking to you."

"You're making progress, Miss Prescott. Speaking today, having dinner tonight. It's a small leap from one to the other."

"Not to me, Mr. Darcy. Having dinner with you is completely out of the question."

"Why?"

"Well…because my father would lock me in the house for one thing. And…and Frederick would…would…and well…I…it's just out of the question, that's all," she stammered, feeling foolish.

"I'm really sorry to hear that, Miss Prescott. I think we could have a good time together."

Color flooded Abby's features again. "It's your idea of a good time, Mr. Darcy, that makes it impossible," she said with more conviction.

Kane's brows arched and his eyes danced with amusement at her interpretation of his invitation. "Miss Prescott, I'm simply asking you to share a meal with me, not run away with me."

"Mr. Darcy, I may sound very foolish to you, but honestly, I've seen the kind of women you associate with. I doubt that dinner is usually part of the equation."

She was surprised when he grinned.

"Yes, ma'am, I must admit that you're right about that. But I assure you that I can also conduct myself as a gentleman. You're a lady, Miss Prescott. And while I'm not terribly familiar with a lady of your caliber, I believe I can take you to dinner and see you home afterward without making a ass of myself."

Abby fought the urge to smile at the sincere expression on his face. She also fought to urge to accept the invitation. Thankfully, they had reached the front door of the store before she had to respond. She reached for the basket, took it from him, and edged toward the doorway.

"Mr. Darcy, I can't imagine you ever making an ass of yourself. And while I appreciate the gesture, I cannot have dinner with you."

She slipped into the store without giving him the chance to say anything further.

***

"You mind telling me just what the hell that was all about?"

Amos Connors scowled as Kane joined him on the porch outside the courthouse.

"What?"

"You know damned well what! Your little good Samaritan act out there."

"I was helping the lady with her basket," Kane replied innocently.

Amos snorted. "And trying to help yourself to the lady, if I'm any judge. I've warned you about that girl, Kane."

"You know what, Your Honor? You're starting to get on my nerves with your sermons." Kane's voice had lost its teasing quality. His eyes narrowed and the set of his jaw let Amos know right away that he was serious.

"I won't have that girl hurt, Kane. Not by you or anyone like you."

"What the hell makes you think that I'm going to hurt her?"

"I know your history, remember? If memory serves, your only interest in women is to see how fast you can get them between the sheets. Abigail Prescott will not be one of your conquests. Do you understand me?"

Kane stared back into Amos' icy gaze without blinking. His shoulders squared beneath the black vest. "You understand something, Judge. My intentions toward Abigail Prescott are nothing but honorable. And if that surprises you, just imagine how surprised I am."

Amos slowly smiled as he reached into an inner pocket and brought out two cigars. He lit one, handed it to Kane, then lit the second for himself. "Well, I'll be damned! I think you mean it."

"I do mean it. She's a lady, and I'll admit I don't know much about them, but I do know one when I see her. And if it makes you feel any better, I just asked her to have dinner with me and she flat out said no."

"Well, at least she has taste."

Kane's lips twitched beneath the moustache as he drew on the aromatic cigar and then exhaled. "Yeah, well, that remains to be seen. For my part, that smart mouthed boy banker she's seeing don't impress me much."

"I don't suppose he would, him having a steady job and all. But, I'll admit he's a bit of a stuffed shirt. So's his old man, for that matter. But given the pickings around here, he's a good catch."

"Depends on what you're trying to catch," Kane grunted.

A moment later Abby came flying out of the store and ran across the street toward them, her face pale and her eyes wide with fright.

"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy!"

She was gasping for breath and shaking so hard she couldn't get the words out fast enough. Kane caught her by the shoulders to steady her, alarmed to discover that she was trembling.

"What is it?"

Abby half turned to point toward the store. "Papa…there's a man with a gun…he's going to kill papa!"

"Stay here!"

Kane was already off the porch on his way into the street. As he ran, he loosened the safety loop from his gun and drew it as he stepped onto the boardwalk a few feet from the store entrance. Staying close to the wall, he moved silently toward the doorway.

Inside, he could see Mr. Prescott behind the counter, looking very frightened. Across the counter was a man with a gun pointed at him, demanding money from the cash box.

Kane moved very quietly into the store and up behind the robber. The man had no idea Kane was anywhere nearby until he heard the click of Kane's Colt. Then he felt the cold barrel as Kane placed it behind his ear.

"Mr. Prescott, what's it worth to you for me not to let this fella blow your brains out?" he asked, glancing at the store owner before returning his attention to the thief.

"W--what--"

The man with the gun had frozen in place, his eyes bulging at the prospect of having the murderous Colt laying against his head go off. Josiah Prescott's face was white, his brow beaded with sweat as he stared at Kane in shock.

"Is it worth coming down off your high horse for one evening?"

"What the devil do you mean?" Josiah spluttered. He looked from Kane's amused face to the gunman, then back again.

"I asked your daughter to have dinner with me, Mr. Prescott, and she refused. Seems you don't like the idea of her having anything to do with the likes of me. Now, maybe you've got a point. My reputation isn't the best, granted, but I happen to think your daughter is a fine young woman and I'd like to get to know her better. So I'll make you a deal. You invite me to dinner with your family tonight, and I'll take this sorry excuse for a thief over to the jail where he belongs. You can even invite Judge Connors to join us, if you like. It'll all be very proper. What do you say?"

"Invite you to dinner? How dare you! If you think I'm going to be blackmailed by the likes of you, young man----"

Kane shrugged and moved the gun from the man's head far enough to make his point. Josiah's face went blood red, then white at the implications.

"All right, all right!" he conceded when he realized Kane was serious. "You can come to our house for dinner. Just do something!"

Kane grinned as he reached around the thief to take his gun. He shoved the man away from the counter in the direction of the door, realizing for the first time that both Judge Connors and Abby were standing in the doorway, witnessing the entire incident.

He held onto the thief's collar with his free hand as he turned back to look at Josiah over his shoulder. "What time would you like me to arrive, Mr. Prescott?"

Josiah's expression was murderous, but he'd made a deal and if nothing, he was a man of his word. "Seven," he muttered, as his knees went weak with relief that the gunman was on his way to jail. "Dinner's at seven."

"Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Prescott. I won't be late."

He grinned at Judge Connors' astounded expression as he shoved the thief past him onto the boardwalk. "My mama always told me there's more than one way to skin a cat," he said as he moved past the judge.

"I'm looking forward to this evening, Miss Prescott," he said to Abby as he tipped his hat politely to her.

Abby turned to stare at his back as he hustled the would-be thief across the street to the jail. Now that her father was safe, her legs turned to rubber beneath her. She leaned against Judge Connors for a moment, unsure she could stand on her own.

She looked first at her father's infuriated face, then at Judge Connors' amused one. Oh my! Kane Darcy's coming to dinner!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"That was the most flagrant abuse of authority I've ever seen!"

Kane looked up in the mirror as he fussed with his tie and grinned at Amos Connors' disgruntled face behind him in the hotel room.

"Well, Your Honor, you know what I told you about what my mama said about--"

"Yes, I know, your mama liked cats. I cannot believe you used Josiah Prescott's misfortune to pull this off."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"That's what worries me. What other lengths will you go to in order to get what you want?"

Kane ripped the tie from around his neck with an irritated snort and flung it down on the bed. "Damn it! I can't make this damned thing look right!"

Amos walked to the bed and picked up the tie. He stretched to put it around Kane's neck and began tying it properly. "One of the few things you can't do, I guess," he said with a tiny smile. "Now, there, it's tied. Get your coat, Marshal, and let's get this over with. It's almost seven and you surely don't want to be late."

Kane glanced at his reflection in the mirror and ran a hand over his hair. He turned from side to side to make sure he looked perfect. Behind him, Amos shook his head with an inward smile.

"Come on, pretty boy, the Prescott's are waiting. Let's just hope they haven't poisoned the food and get me by mistake."

Kane picked up his coat from the bed and slipped into it. "How do I look?"

"Like a nervous bridegroom."

"Hey, I just want to have dinner with her, not marry her," Kane reminded him as they left the room and moved down the hallway.

"Girls like Abby Prescott take these things very seriously, Kane. If all you're doing to trying to prove you can have any woman you want, I'm calling this whole thing off."

"The hell you are! I could've got myself shot to set this up."

"That would probably be a blessing compared to what awaits us at the Prescott's," Amos pointed out as they entered the hotel lobby and walked toward the front door. "You better behave yourself, young man. Don't make me regret agreeing to this dinner."

"You wouldn't miss this for the world, and you damned well know it," Kane said with a grin while they walked up the street toward the Prescott house.

"You're right. It's almost worth having you misuse your authority to see Josiah eat crow. He looked like he was going to puke when he agreed to your terms. Made my day."

"Now let's make mine, shall we?" Kane asked as they neared the back staircase.

Amos knocked on the door and a moment later Josiah opened it. He was obviously no happier about this dinner now than he was in the store earlier in the day when Kane forced him to agree to it. He was scowling as he stepped aside and invited them in.

"Good evening, Josiah. Good evening, Mrs. Prescott, Abigail," Amos said as they were ushered into the living room down the hall from the door.

"Evening, Amos." Josiah did not speak to Kane but threw him an annoyed glare.

"Good evening, Amos," Deirdre Prescott said nervously. "Hello, Marshal."

"Good evening, Mrs. Prescott, these are for you." Kane handed her a bouquet of summer flowers he’d picked from a neighbor’s yard, flashing her one of those disarming smiles that never failed to impress a lady. "It was very kind of you to invite me to dinner."

Deirdre actually blushed as she took the flowers. "How thoughtful, Mr. Darcy. Thank you. Abby, won't you take their coats?"

Abby didn't move for a long moment. She was frozen in place beside her mother, her gaze locked with Kane's as he shrugged out of his coat. She was speechless as she stared at the picture he presented in a white shirt, tie, and black coat with matching trousers.

Kane was equally impressed. Abby was dressed in a yellow silk dress with pearl buttons down the bodice, and accented by a cameo broach at the throat. Her hair was arranged in a elegant upswept coiffure that must have taken hours to perfect. She had obviously taken great pains preparing for this dinner, which probably accounted for her father's deepening scowl.

"May I take your coat, Mr. Darcy?" she asked him when she found her voice.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Kane handed her his coat and hat, then watched her as she took them, along with Amos', and hung them on a coat tree beside the front door.

"Josiah, perhaps our guests would enjoy a drink before dinner," Deirdre suggested nervously.

"Yes, of course," Josiah muttered, as he glared at Kane. He cleared his throat, trying to salvage his pride, yet knowing that Kane Darcy was enjoying this forced spectacle far too much.

"What would you like? I believe I have some vintage brandy that you might enjoy, Amos. What about you, Mr. Darcy? Or do you drink whatever's available?"

"Actually, Mr. Prescott, a brandy sounds fine," Kane replied with a smile, as he followed Josiah and Amos to a small cabinet beneath an open window.

"I wasn't sure what beverage would appeal to you, Mr. Darcy. But I suppose after a man's been in prison as long as you were, just about anything would do."

"My tastes are quite simple, Mr. Prescott. Although, I've always preferred a good aged bourbon when available."

Amos smiled at the determined effort Kane was making to remain pleasant in the face of Josiah's hostility. He knew it couldn't be easy. It made him wonder why this evening was so damned important to Kane. Why would any man put himself in this position when he could avoid it?

His sharp gaze flashed to Abby as she helped her mother set the food on the table. The demure glances she flashed Kane both amused and disturbed him. Little lady, you don't know what the hell you're doing if you encourage him. You can probably handle Frederick Gaston with no problem, but you've never, in your wildest dreams, dealt with any man like Kane Darcy.

What surprised him more was the way Kane looked at the girl. Knowing Kane's reputation with women as he did, he was amazed to see that Kane was genuinely smitten with her. Who would've thought it? Even if he failed to realize it himself, Kane was more than just physically attracted to Abby. He had to be! Why else would he endure this kind of hostile humiliation to be in her company? Amos almost laughed out loud at the thought. Well, well, maybe there's hope for you after all, my young friend.

"Actually, Josiah, Kane was only in prison for eight months. And while there, he was a model prisoner. He would have been paroled on good behavior in a short time, even if I had not requested his assistance with the trouble here," he said aloud in Kane's defense.

"And just what sent you there in the first place, Mr. Darcy?" Josiah asked with a malicious smirk.

"I shot somebody. In self defense, as a matter of fact. "

"Really? Amos, is it common practice for you to send a man to prison for shooting in self defense?"

Amos was beginning to get annoyed himself at Josiah's deliberate attempt to humiliate Kane. "No, Josiah, not as a rule, but there were extenuating circumstances in this case."

"And what might they be?"

"Kane was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all. He did something foolish, as young men are prone to do, and he paid for it. It's a mistake I'm quite certain he won't make again."

Kane flashed Amos a surprised glance, wondering why the judge was defending him all of a sudden. The disgruntled expression on Josiah's face said that he was asking himself the same question.

"I've never understood, Amos, why you insisted on bringing him here to take this marshal's job. Why him? You have sentenced countless young men to prison for lesser crimes, I'm sure."

Amos nodded as he sipped at the superb brandy. "That's true, Josiah, but after being a federal judge for more than thirty years, I can read a man. I saw a spark of decency in this young man. It simply needed to be explored. I'm happy to say that my instincts about Kane were correct. I believe the way he's thrown himself into this job has vindicated my faith in him."

Again, Kane stared at Amos in amazement.

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it? This job isn't over by a long shot," Josiah replied stiffly.

"This town is a whole lot safer now than it was a week ago," Amos went on. "In another week, it will be safer yet. In a couple of months, this trouble will be behind us and forgotten. And we'll all have Kane to thank for it."

Josiah snorted but made no further comment because his wife announced that dinner was ready and they could take their seats. Josiah took the chair at the head of the table, chagrined when Kane held Mrs. Prescott's chair for her.

Amos stifled a grin at the expression on Josiah's face, as he helped Abby into her chair across the table from Kane. However Josiah had expected Kane to behave, he was not happy at the way things were going so far. Hell, I can hardly believe he's acted like a gentleman this long myself.

Josiah said the blessing in a deep reverent voice that implored God's help on the town and his family. When he said Amen and raised his head, it was obvious the latter part of the prayer was meant for Kane.

"I hope you like fried chicken, Mr. Darcy," Deirdre said as she handed him a platter of crisp, golden chicken.

"I sure do, Mrs. Prescott, and this looks delicious. You set a lovely table, ma'am." He took a piece from the platter and passed it to Amos, seated next to him.

"Mama's chicken has won the blue ribbon at the fair for the past five years in a row, Mr. Darcy," Abby said with a smile across the table. "She's the best cook in Cimarron."

Deirdre blushed like a school girl at her daughter's praise as she passed heaping platters of mashed potatoes, green beans, corn on the cob, and homemade biscuits and gravy. "We've been very fortunate this year, Mr. Darcy. Our garden has done better than usual so we have an abundance of fresh vegetables. Please, have another piece of chicken and some more potatoes. Eat all you want. I'm sure the food in prison wasn't very appetizing."

"No, ma'am. It wasn't, that's a fact. I haven't had food like this since I was a kid. Thank you."

Abby glanced at him, amazed at his lack of embarrassment about having been in prison. It didn't seem to bother him when her father went to such great lengths to bring it up. And it didn't bother him now when her mother mentioned it again. She was beginning to wonder if anything bothered this man.

"Tell us about your family, Mr. Darcy. Where are you from?"

Deirdre refused to look at her husband, knowing his displeasure would spoil the meal. It had been a very long time since they'd had guests, other than Frederick, and she was beginning to enjoy it.

"All over, ma'am. We never stayed in place too long," Kane replied between bites of the delicious food.

"Why was that, Mr. Darcy?" Josiah asked in a benign tone.

"Business opportunities, Mr. Prescott. We went where the business opportunities were best. That meant moving often."

Abby stared at him, wondering if what those gossipy old ladies had said about his mother was true.

"And what kind of business was that?"

"Papa, please. Mr. Darcy did not come here tonight to be cross examined," Abby said before Kane had to answer the question.

"I know exactly what Mr. Darcy came here for tonight, Abigail. And so do you. He's been sniffing around you since the day he rode into town, and God help us all, you've encouraged it."

Josiah threw his napkin down on the table as he shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. Down the table, Deirdre put down her fork with a trembling hand, staring at her husband with a beseeching expression.

"Josiah, please. Let's just have a nice dinner," she said softly.

"You stay out of this, woman! This convict nearly let some cutthroat kill me today. He would have if I hadn't agreed to his terms for this ridiculous dinner. And you spent all afternoon cooking for him! And you," he said, turning his anger to Abby, who sat mortified at his behavior. "You spent two hours fixing your hair and trying on clothes so you could impress him. There's only one reason a woman tries that hard to impress a man like him! That kind of woman has a place in the saloon down the street, but not in my home! No sir! I won't have you preening and fixing and looking up at him the way you've been doing. I won't stand for it!"

"Mr. Prescott, if you want rant at somebody, do at me. I engineered this evening. I asked Abby out and she turned me down flat, just like you wanted. She and Mrs. Prescott have done nothing to deserve your misplaced anger."

Kane's voice was soft as he rose from his chair and laid his napkin on the table. His eyes had narrowed to glittering coals of fire as he met Josiah's rage without blinking.

"If I were a younger man, I'd teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget, young man!"

"If you were a younger man, Mr. Prescott, I'd kick the shit out of you for the way you've humiliated your wife and daughter tonight. But the fact is, that you're not a young man, so there isn't a whole hell of a lot I can about do it, in your home anyway."

He turned to Abby with a deep breath and forced a smile. "I'm truly sorry, Miss Prescott. Mrs. Prescott, this was a lovely meal. Thank you for all the trouble you went to. I appreciate it."

He turned and walked across the room to take his hat and coat from the rack. Amos was right behind him, shaking his head at Josiah's behavior.

He slipped into his coat and reached for the door knob, but Josiah wasn't content to let it go at that. He rushed across the room, caught Kane's arm and jerked him back around.

"You stay away from my daughter, you son-of-a-bitch!" Josiah snarled. "I won't have her contaminated by the likes of you!"

Abby saw the fire in Kane's eyes as he stared down her father. She saw his body tense as his gaze flashed to her father's grasp on his arm. Her breath froze in her throat at his struggle to remain calm. She feared her father had gone too far.

"Take your hand off me, Mr. Prescott. Now, please. Before we both do something we'll be sorry for."

His voice was soft, almost gentle in tone, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

Josiah was too angry to realize how dangerous the situation was. "I know about you, Darcy. I know exactly what business your mama was in. This whole town knows she was a whore."

Kane heard the sharp intake of Abby's breath as she leaped to her feet and rushed into the room. She grabbed her father's arm and tried to pull him away, but Josiah shook her off.

"You don't know shit, Mr. Prescott about me, my mother, or anything else," Kane said through clenched teeth. "Now let go of me."

"Let it go, Josiah," Amos said sternly as he flung open the door, hoping he would be able to get Kane out of there before the situation got completely out of control.

Unfortunately, Josiah's anger had been building for days. It came rushing out of him now in a clenched fist placed squarely in Kane's mouth. Blood spurted from the cut.

Kane heard Abby's cry, heard Deirdre's squeal as she rushed into the room. A moment later, Abby pressed her napkin to his lips to stem the flow of blood from the cut.

"Papa, papa, look what you've done!"

"Well, well, he bleeds real blood," Josiah snarled. "Does that mean that whatever mongrel that sired you was half human, or don't you know?"

Abby fully expected Kane to do something terrible. He didn't. He yanked his arm free, glanced at Abby and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Miss Prescott," he said stiffly, then turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Amos gathered up his own coat and hat. Pausing in the open doorway, he sent Josiah a withering glare. "Josiah, you really are a jackass! He should've knocked the hell out of you. And probably would have if he didn't have so much respect for Abigail. I'm tempted to do it myself. You're an arrogant, pompous ass!"

Turning, without another word, he disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Amos caught up with Kane halfway down the block. He was puffing by the time he was able to catch Kane's arm. When Kane swung around, he quickly let go and showed Kane both upraised hands.

"Easy, boy. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Hell, yes. Why wouldn't I be? That old fart just insulted my mother, called me names no man has ever gotten away with, and to top it off, he busted my lip and ruined this brand new shirt. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Amos choked back the grin that strained his lips. "Not to mention ruining your plans for this evening."

"Yeah, not to mention that."

"Have you had enough yet?"

Kane swung around in the street to stare at him as he pressed Abby's napkin to the still bleeding cut in his lip. "Enough what?"

"Humiliation, insults, orders, take your pick. Still think Abigail is worth all this?"
"So you don't think I'm good enough for her either!"

"I didn't say that, Kane. I'm on your side. But you've got to realize, boy, that Josiah Prescott has plans for that girl. Finishing school back East, then marriage to Frederick Gaston. He's not going to let you interfere with that, except over his dead body."

"Don't tempt me!" Kane growled as they walked down the street toward the saloon.

He shoved the bat-wing doors open and stalked inside. Moving to a corner table, he yanked the chair from beneath the bar patron seated in it. "Get lost!" he said to the man, who went scurrying to the bar.

Amos ordered a bottle of whiskey from a scantily dressed young woman, filled two glasses and passed one across the scarred table top to Kane. "Drink this. It'll soothe your pride. Burn the hell out of that cut lip, but it'll soothe your pride."

Kane winced when the whiskey hit the cut but drained the glass in one swallow and held it out for a refill. After the second glass, he looked up at Amos wearily. "Don't you have something to do, besides baby-sit me? I'm all right, Your Honor, except for this lip and my bruised ego."

"Why didn't you knock him on his ass when he insulted your mama?"

Kane's brows arched with surprise at the question. Then he shrugged and turned a third glassful of whiskey around in his fingers. "And spoil the good impression I'd made up to that point?"

"I doubt you were concerned about that. Tell me why, boy. I'm curious."

Kane shrugged again, ignoring the inviting glances of a half dozen women advertising their wares. "He's an old man. It was his house."

"And?"

"And what?"

"There's more to it than that."

"It would've ruined whatever chance I had of making my point to his daughter."

"Which is?"

Kane flashed him an annoyed glance. "That I can be a gentleman, I guess."

Amos shrugged, clearly not convinced. "You better be careful, boy. Next thing you know, you'll be going to church and praying in public. You know girls like Abigail expect that kind of thing from a man. Takes more than nice clothes and good manners to impress them. Of course, she's already impressed with the way you look."

"Think so?"

Amos nodded with a solemn expression. "Oh yeah, she likes the way you look. Especially the way your butt looks walking away from her."

Kane's brows rose in surprise as he stared at Amos. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"From her friend, Betsy Brennan. She's made no secret of the fact that she and Abby think you're the best looking thing to ever hit this town." He paused to sip from his own glass, then grinned. "And she's right. You're a fine looking young man, Kane. Even nice girls notice things like that."

"For all the good it does me."

"Well, it doesn't hurt. Of course, your reputation sort of puts a damper on that."

"And just how the hell do I overcome that, Your Honor?"

Amos shrugged again. "By continuing to behave like a gentleman. Not knocking the hell of her pa tonight was a good start. She has to be impressed by your self control. I certainly was."

"You did a lot of defending me tonight, Judge. Mind telling me why?"

"I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth, Kane."

"You didn't have to."

"I rarely do things I don't want to. You made a stupid mistake. You paid for it. It's over. Start over, like this job. Prove yourself to this town and you'll prove yourself to Abby Prescott. Just keep your pants on and act like a gentleman around her."

"That's all?"

The sarcasm in Kane's voice made Amos smile as he refilled their glasses again. "It's a good place to start, boy. You make a move on her now and you'll scare the crap out of her. She's used to boys, like Freddie Gaston. All hand kissing and sweet talk. You let her know what's on your mind and she'll run like a doe with the hounds after her."

"All this game playing is a waste of time."

"Depends on what you want in return. Women like these," he said, waving a hand toward the prostitutes working the room, "you lay down your money, tell them what you want and they're only too happy to provide it. Nice girls have to have a ring first and vows said in front of a preacher before they start peeling off their clothes. Question is, are you willing to go that far to get it?"

Kane didn't answer, but sat sipping his whiskey and staring morosely into the glass.

After a moment, Amos drained his glass and got to his feet. "You got any money, boy?"

"Not much. Why?"

Amos slid a five dollar gold piece across the table to him. "Drown your sorrows in that little brunette over there that's eye-balling you. Make you feel better."

Kane grinned as he slid the money back. "Thanks, Judge, but I don't pay for it."

Amos picked up the money and put it in his vest pocket. "Oh, I forgot, they pay you. I'm going to bed. Take care of that cut, boy. See you in the morning."

He picked up his hat and coat and sauntered out the doors. As soon as he left, the woman he'd indicated came to the table and leaned over Kane's shoulder.

"Looking for company, honey?" she asked in a throaty, inviting tone.

Kane shook his head as he got up. "Not now. I've had enough excitement for one night."

He flashed her a grin, picked up his hat, and left, heading across the street to the hotel. At the moment, his room and the bottle of whiskey he kept there sounded more inviting than what the pretty saloon girl had to offer.

***

Abby dashed across the street, staying in the shadows and ducking into an alley when she saw people walking toward her. It was late. Most of Cimarron had settled down for the night, except for the bang of the piano echoing from the saloon. She jumped when a burst of loud laughter close by broke through the din.

Beneath her cloak she carried a basket as she scurried to the hotel's back entrance. She slipped inside and took the back stairs to the second floor, wondering how she'd know the right room when she came to it. At least she was sure that Kane had not left the hotel since he'd gone there after leaving the saloon shortly after the disastrous dinner with her father.

She had watched from her bedroom window until she felt fairly sure she could reach the hotel unobserved. That had been hours ago. It had taken this long to get up enough nerve to do this.

She moved silently down the hallway, looking under each door for signs of life, but no lights were visible until she came to the room at the end of the hall. There was a thin layer of light under the door when she stopped, gathered her courage, and knocked.

For a few moments, she thought no one was going to answer. Then the door swung open and she was staring down the barrel of Kane's Colt. For a moment, they were both too surprised to speak. Then Kane found his voice.

"Abby! I mean--Miss Prescott!"

He lowered the gun, thumbed the hammer back into place, and stood staring at her.

Abby wet her lips, trying to find her voice. "May I come in, Mr. Darcy?" she asked in a shaky voice.

Kane stepped past her to look up and down the hallway, before he moved back to allow her inside. "I guess you better before somebody sees you."

He moved back as she slid past him into the room. She went to the center of the room before turning around to face him. She sat the basket on the bed and shrugged out of the cloak. When she looked up at him again, he was still staring at her in surprise.

"You shouldn't be here," he said as he closed the door and turned to face her.

"I know." She couldn't get her breath for a moment. Her mouth was dry and her throat raw as her gaze took in his appearance.

He was still wearing the white shirt, but it was out of his trousers, unbuttoned, hanging open. His hair was rumpled as if he'd been asleep when she knocked. The front of the shirt had large blood stains from the cut in his lip. She knew she should look somewhere else, but could not tear her eyes from his strong chest. Color rose into her face at the sight of the muscles twitching beneath a layer of crisp black hair that began at his collarbone and covered his chest, disappearing finally beneath the wide leather belt in his trousers.

"I know," she repeated, feeling foolish.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" Kane asked as he put the pistol back into the holster hanging from the bed poster.

One glance took in her tear stained face, her red rimmed eyes, and the tremor in her hands as she made a gesture to the basket she'd brought. She was still dressed in the yellow silk dress, her hair still arranged in the elegant coiffure, but now she looked very young and unsure of herself.

"I-I-brought you some food. I thought--you might--be hungry."

The unmistakable appreciation he saw in her eyes sent a surge of something through him he recognized immediately and tried to put into the back of his mind. Even after drinking nearly a half bottle of rye whiskey, he was not so drunk that he could give in to those feelings.

"That's very thoughtful, Miss Prescott."

Abby shrugged slightly, trying to speak without sounding like an idiot. She had practiced what she would say to him for hours in her room, even on the way over here, but now that she was face to face with him in this room, just the two of them, the speech went right out of her head.

"Well, I-I-you didn't get to finish your dinner and--and I thought you might be hungry," she stammered, hating herself for letting her voice quiver and her eyes wander back to his bare chest.

"Thanks, getting your teeth knocked loose does have a tendency to kill a man's appetite," he said as he moved across the room, indicating a chair for her to sit in.

Her expression immediately changed to one of concern. She looked at the nasty cut in his lower lip and swallowed. "Does it hurt?"

"Like hell. Sorry, I don't usually curse in front of a lady. Must be the heat, and the whiskey."

Her gaze flashed to the half empty bottle on the bedside table. "Are you a drinking man, Mr. Darcy?" she asked with a bit more vitality in her voice.

Kane shook his head. "Not really, Miss Prescott, but this is a special occasion."

He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her, simultaneously admiring her beauty and spunk, and fighting back the feelings that had sprung up inside him. Having never fought those feelings before, it was a struggle.

"I'm terribly sorry about what happened, Mr. Darcy," she murmured. Then lifting her head to look at him more directly, her voice became stronger. "Papa had no right to do that. He was totally wrong to insult you and hitting you was so--so--"

"He thought he was protecting his little girl. If I had a daughter like you, I'd probably do worse if somebody like me took an interest in her."

Abby's eyes widened. "Have you taken an interest in me, Mr. Darcy?"

"Now why else would I make an ass of myself to spend an evening with you?" he asked her as a tiny grin crept into his face.

Abby turned to the basket and began taking out napkin covered plates. She sat them on the bed and unwrapped them before looking back at him. "We can still have our dinner, Mr. Darcy. I've brought all the food and a jar of lemonade. Do you like lemonade?"
"Yes, ma'am, I do. But you can't stay here, Miss Prescott. If anybody sees you, it'll only make things worse."

"Are you worried about my reputation, Mr. Darcy?" she asked as she poured lemonade into two glasses she took from the basket.

"Well, yes, ma'am."

"Haven't other women visited your hotel room?"

Kane nodded as he stared at her purposeful movements when she brought him a plate of food and a glass. "Well, yes, ma'am, but the women that have come here are not like you, Miss Prescott."

"I'm glad you appreciate the difference, Mr. Darcy," she said with a smile. She was gaining confidence by the moment, actually amazed at how quickly she was feeling more at ease. "Now, finish your dinner and I'll see what I can do about your lip."

I can think of a thing or two, he thought, then quickly discarded that notion.

"Why didn't you fight back when papa hit you?"

The question was softly asked as Abby watched him bite into a chicken leg. She nibbled at her own dinner, more intent on looking at him while he ate. His teeth were strong and white, emphasized by his dark moustache. She wondered briefly how it would feel against her face, then blushed at her own thoughts.

"That wouldn't have been very polite, now would it?"

She smiled as she shook her head. "No, I suppose not, but neither were his remarks about your parents. I've never heard my father speak so rudely to anyone before."

"You can't hit a man for telling the truth, Miss Prescott."

Abby instantly realized his meaning but decided not to press the issue. "Nonetheless, Mr. Darcy, it was very crude of my father to bring it up. It was very bad manners."

"I guess he didn't think much of my manners by forcing him to agree to having me over for dinner," Kane said with a wry grin. "I can't blame him. A man with a gun at his head will agree to just about anything. I took advantage of him."

"You also saved his life. I'm very grateful for that."

She sipped at her lemonade, fidgeting with her glass while she tried to look casual.

"Your gratitude, Miss Prescott, was not what I had in mind."

"Just what did you have in mind, Mr. Darcy? Besides dinner, I mean?"

Kane's dark gaze locked with hers, then he shrugged. "To be honest, Miss Prescott, I don't know exactly. I wanted to have dinner with you, and you refused, so I took another route to get there. It wasn't very nice of me, was it?"

"You acted on an impulse, Mr. Darcy."

"Like the one you acted on by coming here?"

She nodded, blushing again. "Yes, like that."

Kane sat his plate aside and turned the glass of lemonade around between his palms as he studied her in the soft light from the lamp on the dresser behind her. "I'd guess you've never acted on an impulse in your life. If you'd stop to think about it, you'd never have come here tonight."

"I thought about it, for hours."

"And you came anyway? That wasn't very smart, Miss Prescott."

"I know," she said softly.

"You know what kind of man I am. You must know that what folks are saying about me is mostly true. I'm having trouble figuring why you're here. It's not because you thought I was hungry, or because you thought I was hurt. Just why are you here?"

Abby got to her feet and began putting the empty dishes back into the basket. She felt very foolish suddenly. Maybe this had been a big mistake. "I've never had a man go to such lengths to impress me, Mr. Darcy. You'll have to forgive me for being foolish. I've had little experience with this sort of thing."

"You're not foolish, Miss Prescott. You're very beautiful and you're also very naïve. If I were a betting man, I'd bet that you're more than a little curious about me."

"You'd be right," Abby replied as she covered the basket and picked up her cloak. "I've never known anyone like you, Mr. Darcy."

"You'd be better off to keep it that way."

"Probably. But then, you knew that when you asked me out. You knew I was naïve, as you put it, about men. Frederick is the only man I've ever kept company with, and to tell you the truth, he's pretty boring most of the time."

"And I'm not?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, you may be a lot of things, but you're never boring. If anything, you're dangerous, and for some ungodly reason, I seem to be drawn to that."

"The forbidden fruit?" Kane's voice contained an element of amusement as he watched her slip into the cloak. "Funny, that's what Judge Connors told me about you."

"He said that?"

Kane nodded. "Yes, ma'am, right before he told me that if I step out of line, he'll send me back to prison. But that hasn't stopped me from being attracted to you, has it?"

He got up and walked to the door. Abby picked up the basket and walked toward him. She paused at the door, standing directly in front of him, looking up at him curiously. Her chest hurt, and her breath seemed short when they stood looking at one another in the pale light.

"I guess what they say about opposites attracting must be true then," she said at last.

"Yes, ma'am, I guess it is." He paused with his hand on the door knob and grinned at her.

Abby's heart jumped in her chest. The heat that had risen in his eyes touched her, warmed her, and concurrently excited and scared her. She swallowed to find her voice. "I suppose the question is, Mr. Darcy, what do we do about it?"

"That's pretty much up to you, Miss Prescott."

Abby seemed to think that over for a moment. She smiled up at him then, with a mixture of innocence and boldness she would never have thought she possessed. As he opened the door for her, she abruptly rose on her tiptoes, put her free hand on his shoulder, and kissed him squarely on the lips.

Then she dashed out the door and down the hallway before he could say anything. He watched her disappear around the corridor, then closed the door, and went to the window to make sure she got across the street safely and back to her house. As she ran up the back stairs, he grinned.

Well, I'll be damned! he thought as she slipped into the house. "I'll be damned!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning Abby stayed busy setting out new merchandise for her father. It was a silent task, for her father was still furious and avoided conversation throughout the morning. From time to time Abby glanced at him, concerned at the pallor of his skin. Josiah was a robust man, but this morning his color wasn't its normal hue. Instead, he was pale and visibly shaken.

Abby couldn't help wondering if he had realized what he had done, or how lucky he was that Kane had walked away without fighting back. She remembered what Kane said about him trying to protect his little girl.

If that was the whole story, Papa, I wouldn't be so angry, but there's more to it than that. I'm not just your daughter, I'm an investment. I know how much you're counting on me marrying Frederick someday. Nothing must stand in the way of that. Heaven forbid if I fail to carry out your wishes. Never mind what I want, or what makes me happy----

She shook her head to scatter those disturbing thoughts. It did no good to dwell on that subject. Even the letter she'd received from her Aunt Clara this morning from Boston had failed to lift her gloomy mood. The letter was full of plans for shopping and getting acquainted with the families of the girls she'd be going to school with when she arrived there in October.

For months she had looked forward to going to school in Boston, but now the adventure of leaving home for the first time and attending an exclusive girl's school paled in comparison to the excitement of the feelings awakening inside her.

The object of those feelings walked out of the hotel restaurant down the street at that very moment. Heat rushed into her face at the very sight of him. She moved closer to the store window as she worked. At least in this position she could watch him without her father knowing it.

He untied his horse from the rail in front of the restaurant and swung into the saddle. When he turned the horse up the street in the store's direction, she made herself very busy straightening merchandise, not daring to look up as he rode by. But it was impossible not to as he passed the store window. Her heart began racing when he slowed the horse briefly, tipped his hat to her, and flashed her one of those wicked grins before riding up the street and out of sight.

Oh, Lord, what must he think of me? she thought frantically as she finished the display of ladies hats she was arranging.

Before she had time to answer her own question, Betsy's radiant face appeared in the doorway. "Good morning, Mr. Prescott," she called to Josiah as she made her way down the aisle to Abby.

"Morning, Betsy," Josiah answered with the first hint of a smile he'd had all morning.

"I've come to steal Abby for a few minutes. Is that okay?"

"Sure, go ahead. She's about finished here anyway."

"Thanks, Mr. Prescott. We're going over to my grandma's for a bit," Betsy called as she linked her arm through Abby's and pulled her toward the door.

"Your grandma's?" Abby asked as they walked onto the porch.

"Silly! What did you think I was going to tell him? You look like you're ready to bust and he looks like he's going to explode. Guess things didn't go so well last night, huh?"

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

By the time they escaped Josiah's watchful eyes by cutting behind the store, heading for the cemetery at the edge of town, Abby had replayed the previous evening's events, including her visit to Kane's hotel room.

Betsy's eyes grew wider and wider as Abby related the details of that visit.

"Oh, my gosh, Abby! You actually kissed him! I don't believe it! Where did you ever find the courage to do that?" she squealed as she squeezed Abby's arm.

"I don't know, Betsy. It just happened. I can hardly believe it either. It was like I was somebody else all of a sudden. I just couldn't help it."

"What was it like?"

Abby smiled at the memory. "Well, it really wasn't much of a kiss. He wasn't expecting it and I ran off before he could react. I don't know which of us was more surprised."

Betsy giggled as they came to the stream that flowed near the edge of the cemetery. They sat down on the bank, took off their shoes and stockings, and dangled their bare feet in the cool water.

"This old oak tree has heard some stories, hasn't it?" she asked, glancing up at the century old tree towering above them. "How long have we been coming here, Abby?"

"Since we were old enough to slip away from our parents. Remember the first time we met here?"

"Sure, we were eight years old and both of us wanted to fish in the creek. You caught a fish and were too afraid of it to get it off the hook, so I had to. Then we both felt so sorry for it that we threw it back in the water."

Betsy laughed out loud at the memory. "I've never fished since. Good thing this tree can't talk. We'd both be locked in our rooms forever."

"This is where you told me that Mr. Thomas pinched you on the butt after church. And remember when you told me about Mrs. Darnell entertaining the preacher that time?"

"I'm not likely to forget that! It was the first time I ever saw anybody doing it. And all the hollering she was doing, Lord, I thought he was killing her!"

They both laughed for a minute, then Betsy's face sobered as she looked at Abby. "Do you ever think about doing it with Frederick?"

Abby blushed and shook her head vigorously. "Goodness no! I can't even imagine Frederick naked. Do you?"

"Think about doing it with Frederick? Never! He's not my type!"

Abby playfully punched her on the shoulder as they laughed uproariously again. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Tell me the truth, Bets, do you ever think about it?"

Betsy's dark head bobbed enthusiastically. "Sure. Especially since the saloon was built and all those women came to town. I wonder how they can do it with someone they don't even know, and for money!"

"Mr. Darcy's mother was one of those women," Abby said thoughtfully. She picked a wild daisy growing on the creek bank and twirled it in her fingers. "I don't think he ever knew his father."

"That must be terrible. I can't imagine growing up like that. I mean, Cimarron is pretty dull most of the time, but we've had good lives, haven't we, Abby? We have good homes and we know our parents love us, even if they act goofy sometimes about letting us grow up."

"I wonder if that's why he ended up getting into trouble with the law?" Abby asked.

Betsy nodded. "Probably. It must have been a terrible life. Just imagine, he knew more about doing it when he was just a little kid than we know now."

Abby sighed as she pulled her feet from the water and drew her knees up beneath her chin. She leaned back against the trunk of the oak and tossed a pebble into the creek. "That's what bothers me, Betsy. He knows so much, and I don't know anything. He probably thinks I'm a baby."

"After you kissed him last night, I rather doubt that he thinks you're a baby."

"Then he probably thinks I'm promiscuous. I don't know which is worse."

"The way your father feels about him, I doubt you've got much to worry about. And if you really want to know what he thinks, ask him. Mr. Darcy is not a kid, Abby. You ask him a question, he'll tell you the truth."

Abby digested this bit of information in silence. Both girls sat contentedly beneath the tree, enjoying the cool breeze. Finally, Abby started putting her shoes and socks back on.

"Time to go, Bets. I'm sure your grandma has had enough of us for the time being."

Betsy laughed as she reached for her own shoes. "Good ole granny. She sure comes in handy, doesn't she?"

Then her features grew serious as they began walking back toward town. "Abby, be careful."

"Of what?"

"Your father, for one thing. If he were to find out that you went to a man's room in the middle of the night alone, he'd--he'd--God only knows what he might do. And then there's Mr. Darcy. Like I said, Abby, he's not a kid. His experience makes him dangerous for anyone like you, who's had none. You could go over there to visit again and end up on your back. Think about that."

Abby linked her arm through Betsy's as she laughed. "I am thinking about that, Bets."

Betsy rolled her eyes toward the sky at Abby's remark. "So am I. Gosh, you'd have to be my grandma's age not to be thinking about that."

"Don't discount your granny, Bets. Remember what we saw last winter when she hired that handyman to chop wood for her?"

"Oh Lord! That's right! We went over there on Thanksgiving morning and his long johns were on the back of a chair. Who would've thought my granny would still be doing it? And with the handyman, of all people?"

"I guess that means that once you start doing it, you don't want to ever stop."

Betsy grinned impishly at Abby as they walked along the dusty road leading into town. "Remember that, Abby."

"I think it would depend on who you were doing it with," Abby replied, blushing at the outrageous thoughts racing through her head.

***

They hadn't gone far when the sound of an approaching horse caught their attention. Looking back over her shoulder, Abby's heart began racing at the sight of the rider coming up behind them.

"Morning, ladies," Kane said as he drew the bay gelding to a walk and tipped his hat to them.

"Good morning, Marshal," Betsy said with a friendly smile.

Abby glanced up at him but was too embarrassed by her previous night's boldness to even speak. The sight of his dancing eyes and easy smile made her pulse accelerate and her palms start sweating.

"That's a beautiful horse, Marshal," Betsy said. She reached up to rub the horse's silky muzzle as he walked beside her. His deep chestnut neck was arched, his nostrils flared, his tail standing almost straight out behind him as he slung his head and snorted at her. She laughed at his antics and rubbed his glossy neck as she squinted up through the midday sun at Kane.

"Thanks, he belongs to the judge."

"Really?"

Kane nodded. He was watching Abby's embarrassed avoidance of his gaze, amused at her self-consciousness. He knew she was unsure of what he thought about her in view of her behavior the night before. How long had it been since he had known a woman who actually blushed?

"Yes, ma'am. This horse was waiting for me when I got of Yuma. The judge had him delivered to me. Guess he figured if he supplied the horse, I couldn't very well refuse to come."

"What's his name?" Betsy asked. She pinched Abby's arm in a manner that Kane couldn't see, trying to get her to say something.

But Abby's throat was too dry and scratchy to trust and her mind was a blank. All she could think of was that he looked better on a horse than anyone she'd ever seen. Fluidity of motion, that's what it is, she thought with an admiring glance up at him. Two beings, both in motion, both separate, yet totally coordinated. He rides like he was born in a saddle, easy, comfortable, yet completely in control. And he makes love the same way.

She blinked in astonishment at her own thoughts as her face flamed. When she

risked another glance at him, she felt as though he had read her thoughts for he was watching her with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Name? I have no idea, Miss Brennan. I've never asked the judge."

"Goodness, Marshal, what do you call him then? Surely you call him something."

"Well, no ma' am, not really. He just knows what I want and does it."

A situation I'm sure you're familiar with, Abby thought irritably. For some unknown reason, she felt put out with him. It's so easy for you, Kane Darcy. You look as though you can read me like a book, and I, on the other hand, can't read you worth a darn! It isn't fair!

While she was mulling this over in her mind, the crack of a rifle not far away broke the silence. A second later, the bullet broke off a branch of the elm tree they were under. Before she could blink, Kane yanked his Winchester from the saddle boot, and leaped off the horse. He slapped the animal on the rump with the rifle barrel to send him speeding up the road to safety, while he grabbed Abby's arm and pushed her and Betsy down in the tall grass behind the tree.

"Stay down!" he ordered as he rose on one knee and lifted the rifle to his shoulder.

The girls were only too happy to obey. They lay down in the grass at the foot of the tree and covered their ears when he shot back at their attacker. Bullets tore chunks of bark from the tree trunk above their heads.

Abby stared at Kane while he returned the gunfire. His face was so calm, he might have been taking a Sunday stroll. He looked down the rifle barrel with one eye closed, sighting the target. Abby couldn't even tell where the bullets were coming from.

"Where is he?" she asked in a frightened voice.

"On that rise, just beyond the clearing," Kane said without looking around.

"Who is he?" Betsy asked, on the verge of tears.

"Damned if I know. You two just stay down. He's not after you and I don't want you getting hurt by mistake."

"Well, he must not be a very good shot," Abby commented. The sound of her own voice reassured her as the gunman fired twice more, tearing out more chunks of bark. "He had a clear shot at you and missed with the first shot."

"Lucky for me."

Kane fired three times in rapid succession and the gunman decided he'd had enough. He turned his horse and took off at a fast clip without looking back. Kane got to his feet and turned to help the girls up.

"Are you two all right?"

They both nodded as they climbed to their feet and brushed themselves off. Abby let out a small gasp when Kane reached to pick a piece of bark out of her hair. He was closer than she'd ever been to him before, so close she could feel the heat rising from his body. He tossed the debris away, then smoothed her hair back into place.

His thumb against her cheek was callused, rough almost, but the way he touched her was very gentle. His gaze drew hers upward, until she was staring into his eyes.

"Marshal, that fella was a better shot than we thought," Betsy said, breaking the hypnotic gaze they were exchanging.

"What do you mean?"

Betsy lifted a very shaky hand and stuck a finger through a hole in the sleeve of his shirt. "See?"

"My goodness, Mr. Darcy. You're certainly having a bad run of luck with shirts, aren't you?"

Abby's voice was soft, not at all the way she had intended. She looked at the bullet hole in his shirt sleeve, then back to his face, suddenly feeling very weak, and a little queasy.

"Yes, ma'am," Kane replied with a grin, as he placed the Winchester across his shoulder and herded them out onto the road. "But a shirt can be replaced. Flesh and bone is another matter altogether."

Abby shuddered at the thought of what the outcome of this incident might have been. Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back. "Two shirts in two days, Mr. Darcy. Being around the Prescott family doesn't seem to be very healthy for you."

With a girl on each side of him, Kane started walking toward town. One glance at Abby's stricken face told him just how scared she really was. Her attempt at humor was a frail guise for that fear. He reached for her hand as they walked down the dusty road. Immediately, Abby moved closer, instinctively reacting to his protective gesture.

"Well, Miss Prescott, guess I'll just have to buy some more shirts."

"Or stay away from the Prescott's," Abby said in a shaky voice.

"Not a chance, Miss Prescott."

The tone of his voice drew her gaze upward. The warmth in his eyes made her blush again as he squeezed her hand ever so slightly. "I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Darcy," she said softly as she smiled.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kane winced as Amos wrapped the laceration on his upper arm in a bandage.

"Too tight?" Amos asked as he secured the bandage and folded the edges underneath it.

Kane shook his head. "It's fine, Judge. No need to make such a fuss. It's just a scratch, barely broke the skin."

Amos looked skeptical as Kane walked across the room and took a clean shirt from the closet. "You were damned lucky, boy. That bullet could've went through your chest."

Kane slipped into the shirt and began buttoning it. "Yeah, but it didn't." He grinned at the concern on the judge's face while he tucked the shirt tail into his trousers. "Don't worry, Your Honor, you're not in the market for another marshal yet."

Amos tried to look casual but his concern for his young lawman was obvious in the tremor in his hands. He lit a cigar in order to keep his hands occupied, and thoughtfully chewed the end of it while Kane opened the half empty bottle of rye whiskey and poured them each a glass.

"Here, Judge, you look like you need this worse than I do."

Amos took the glass and sipped at it, grateful the sting of the liquor took away some of his anxiety. While Kane buttoned his shirt sleeves, Amos walked over to the scarred dresser and picked up a photograph in a antique frame that rested there.

"Beautiful woman."

Kane nodded. "My mother. That's my only picture of her."

Amos studied the dark haired woman in the photo. She was young, with long dark hair, the same color as Kane's, he figured. There was a aura about her of mystery, revealed in the secretive smile on her lips that captured his attention. Absolutely stunning, he thought as he put the frame back on the dresser.

"What happened to her?"

"She died when I was fourteen."

"What about your father?"

Kane shrugged as he sipped the whiskey. "Never knew him. Only thing I know about him was that I'm named after him."

"It must've been rough, growing up without a father."

"It wasn't so bad. We traveled a lot, got to see a lot of the country." Kane eyed the judge curiously. "Now don't you go getting all soft and mushy, Your Honor. I've turned out all right."

Amos grinned wryly. "Oh yeah, you've turned out to be a real prize." Then his expression turned serious. "Any idea who took those shots at you?"

"No, he was too far away. The best description I can give was that he was wearing a black duster and hat, and riding a blaze-faced sorrel."

"That could be anybody."

Kane nodded. "I figure it's one of the fellas I arrested and you ran out of town." Then he grinned. "Unless you're not sure that Josiah Prescott never left the store this morning."

Amos grinned. He drained his glass and set it down. "That I am sure of. Josiah was hard at work all morning. He never left the store until after you came back into town after the shooting." He moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the knob. "Oh, nice touch, by the way, having the girls come in one way and you coming in another. Josiah never knew they were with you when somebody decided to use you for target practice."

"I'm glad you approve."

"Approval has nothing to do with it, Kane. I'm just interested to see that you're taking your mama's advice about cats."

He grinned as he swung the door open. "Take care of yourself, boy. I don't relish the idea of having to break in another marshal."

"No more than I relish the idea of getting myself killed." Kane picked up his hat and headed for the door, following Amos into the hallway. "When I find the wise guy who tried to plant me six feet under, I'm going to make it real clear to him how I feel about him shooting at me with two innocent girls in the crossfire."

"You didn't like that?"

"Hell no! He could've killed either of those girls. He wasn't that good of a shot."

"Good thing he missed. How would you ever explain that to Josiah Prescott?"

Amos' remark was meant in jest but Kane failed to see the humor of it. The only thing he'd been able to think about for the past hour and a half was how close those bullets had come to Abby. The incident had opened up a whole new prospective.

***

Abby pulled away from Frederick's insistent embrace, feeling oddly repulsed. They were standing at the foot of the outside staircase of the Prescott house in the dark. Loud laughter and an occasional curse coming from the saloon a block away couldn't intrude on Frederick's ardor, however. His lips were wet and icky, his embrace smothering as Abby purposefully put some space between them.

"What's wrong, Abby?" Frederick's tone was confused. He ran a hand through his hair while he stared at her in the dim light, trying to figure out why she seemed so distant tonight.

"Nothing. I'm hot, that's all."

"Me too," Frederick said, as he attempted to bring her back into his arms.

"That's not what I mean, Frederick," she said defensively. She put both hands on his chest and applied enough pressure to free herself. "It must be a hundred and fifty degrees tonight. I'm not in the mood."

Frederick snorted as she moved back a step. He straightened his clothing while he eyed her irritably. "You're never in the mood anymore, Abby. It's been a week since you really let me kiss you."

Abby fanned herself with her hands and tried to ignore the plea in his voice. "I know, Frederick, and I'm sorry, but it's just---I don't know--I don't feel like it, that's all. Can't we just sit here and talk for awhile?"

"Looks like we'll have to," he grunted, but took a seat beside her on the bottom step of the stairs. Still, he couldn't keep his hands off her. He reached over to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen from the upswept coiffure, letting his finger trail across her damp neck. "What do you want to talk about?"

Abby shrugged, grimacing at his affectionate gesture. "I don't know--whatever you want to."

"Let's talk about you and me making some solid plans for the future."

"I thought we already had. I'm going to school in Boston and you're going to learn how to run the bank."

"I've been thinking about that, Abby. I think going to school is a waste of time. I mean, we're going to get married anyway, why should we wait until you finish school? How much schooling do you need to run a home and take care of children?"

Abby stiffened as anger flashed through her. She turned to stare at him as if he were a complete stranger. "What? Not go to school? Why would you even suggest such a thing?"

Frederick got to his feet and stood staring down at her. "I want us to be married, Abby. I want us to be together, you know, really together. I don’t want to wait for another year for you to go to some silly finishing school."

Abby also got to her feet. She glared up at him in the defused light. "Silly finishing school? I'll have you know, Frederick Gaston, that going to school is not silly. And I'll also remind you that I have not agreed to marry you. I agreed to discuss it, that's all. You're putting words in my mouth that I haven't said."

He sighed and smiled in that condescending manner that she hated. "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry, Abby. Jeez, this heat is making you awfully grumpy."

"Let's talk about something else," she suggested wearily, wishing he'd just go home.

"All right. Tell me about your pa taking a swing at Kane Darcy."

The amusement in his voice rankled Abby's frazzled nerves. "How did you know about that?"

"It's all over town. My ma heard it in your pa's store. Serves him right, too. The nerve of that man! He may as well have held his own gun to your pa's head, forcing him to agree to have him over to your house! I've never heard of such audacity!"

Abby didn't comment, but turned away from him and walked a few steps toward the end of the alley leading to the street. It was a bit cooler there and gave her a moment to think.

"He seems to have just about every woman in Cimarron eating out of his hand," Frederick went on from his perch on the stairs. "Mary Jane Earls ran smack into a freight wagon yesterday. She was so busy looking at him that she walked into it face first." He stopped to chuckle at the memory. "You should've seen her, I think it broke her nose. I think every woman under seventy in this town has taken leave of her senses. Every time the man walks down the street, they act like they've never seen a man before, even the married ones."

Still Abby remained silent. Having been guilty of the same thing, it was difficult to condemn other women for having the same reaction, but Frederick's description made it sound rather foolish. She didn't like that feeling and she didn't appreciate his rendition of the events.

"And Billy Oldham is working at the saloon, you know, as a swamper. You should hear some of the things he's seen. Kane Darcy has some woman every night, either upstairs at the saloon or over in his hotel room. The way Billy tells it, his room should have swinging doors." He laughed at his little joke, still not noticing Abby's lack of enthusiasm on the subject.

"Now I ask you, what kind of woman goes to a man's hotel room? I'll tell you what kind. The kind that takes money from a man to do---well, decency prevents me from more detail, but Billy says there's a parade of women through his room every night."

Abby blushed in the darkness, thankful that Frederick couldn't see. Oh, Lord, is that what Mr. Darcy thinks of me as well? That I'm some---some--

Then she remembered Kane's remark about the difference between her and the women who usually visited him. The memory made her stand a little straighter as she turned back to look at Frederick.

"Sounds like Billy does a lot of talking. I wonder how he ever manages to get any work done if he spends all his time watching Mr. Darcy?"

Her sarcasm was lost on Frederick. He walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her again. She sighed when his lips began traveling up her neck toward her earlobe. When his hands inched too close to her bosom for comfort, she caught both his wrists and twisted out of his embrace.

"Frederick, it's getting late. I'd better go in now. Papa will out here any minute if I don't."

Frederick recognized that tone of voice. It meant he had gone as far as he was going to tonight. He let out a frustrated groan and settled for a peck on the lips before she slipped past him in the darkness and headed up the stairs.

She didn't even look back.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

By the end of the week Kane had his fill of Cimarron, Judge Connors, the marshal's job and everything else connected with it. The range war had quieted down for the moment after the Belter family killed two Greer gunhands in a shootout generated over a poker game at the saloon late one night.

By the time Kane got there, it was all over. Two men who lived by their guns were dead, killed by other men who lived the same way, but were either more lucky or more skilled. Everyone in the place had sworn that the two dead men started the trouble and that the Belter boys were only defending themselves. True or not, there was no law against self defense so Kane had made no arrests, but asked the Belters to leave town. They had, and for the past few days there had been no further trouble.

The usually noisy patrons of the saloon had mostly left town. Kane was sure they hadn't gone far and would return at the first sign of more trouble, but for the moment things were much too quiet to suit him.

On Saturday morning he leaned against the porch support of the sheriff's office, idling smoking one of Amos' cigars while he watched the citizens of Cimarron go about their business. For the first time in weeks, the ladies felt safe to walk the streets with their children as they went from shop to shop doing their weekly marketing.

"Sure is nice to see the folks of this town out like they used to be," Amos commented with a contented smile as he sat in a cane-backed chair leaned against the wall.

"Yeah, it warms the cockles of my heart."

Amos grinned as he lit himself a cigar and savored it. He looked at Kane's back for a moment, his eyes bright with amusement. "Morning, Mrs. Adams, Marjorie," he said to a lady and her adult daughter as they walked down the boardwalk in front of him on their way to the millenary shop a block away.

"Morning, Judge, Mr. Darcy," the lady said in reply. Her daughter smiled invitingly up at Kane and murmured her own greeting before following her mother down the boardwalk.

"What's the matter, boy? Peace and quiet getting on your nerves?" he asked Kane after the pair moved on.

Kane turned to throw him a disgruntled glance over his shoulder. "I get bored easily, Judge. How long did you say I had to stay on here?"

Amos chuckled. "Don't break out your traveling clothes just yet. This range war isn't over yet, not by a long shot. Tom Greer is just regrouping. In a few days he'll launch another attack at Edwin Belter and this town will be full of ne'er-do-wells again."

"And what am I supposed to do to amuse myself in the meantime?"

"Keep the peace, boy. And enjoy it. It won't last long."

"Maybe Greer will let it go now that he's lost a couple more men. Maybe he'll work out something with Belter and this business will be over."

Amos snorted. "And maybe the sun will come up in the west tomorrow morning. Possible, but not likely." He nodded to another mother and daughter pair as they walked down the boardwalk between him and Kane, grinning at the rather blatant invitation on the younger woman's face. "Frankly, Kane, I don't know how you can be bored. Every woman in this town is sizing you up. I've been sitting here for what, thirty minutes? And in that time two dozen women have made a point to cross the street so they can walk past you and say good morning. Damned amazing, that's what it is. What is it about you, boy, that turns a woman's head?"

Kane flicked away the cigar ash as he turned to grin at Amos. "I told you, Judge, it's my irresistible good looks. I'm not to blame if women can't resist me. It's a curse."

"Curse, my ass. It's that "come into my parlor little girl and let's get better acquainted" smile of yours. I'm willing to bet there isn't a woman who's passed you this morning that wouldn't drop her underwear after listening to your charming bullshit for an hour or two. And I don't just mean the young ones, some of their mothers have been eyeing you pretty good too."

Kane chuckled. "Well, Judge, everybody's got to be good at something, don't they? Well, pleasing a woman is the only thing I'm good at."

"That, and handling a six-gun better than most men have a right to," Amos grunted. "Ought to be a law against it."

"I'm sure you'll probably come up with one."

Amos smiled, then his expression grew more serious as he stared for a moment at the gun on Kane's hip. "Who taught you to use a gun like that?"

Kane shrugged as he exhaled a plume of cigar smoke. "Nobody taught me. I just learned. I had a lot of time on my hands when I was a kid. My mama worked all hours of the day and night so I had to learn early to occupy myself. One of her business associates left his pistol in our room one night and I just took it up."

"So you learned how to use a gun this well because you had nothing else to do?"

"No, not exactly. I learned how so I could kill a man one day if I ever run onto him."

"Your father?"

Kane turned to look at Amos, surprised at the judge's insight. He nodded, his eyes burning with a intensity that would have made most men squirm. Amos merely met that stare without blinking, awaiting Kane's answer.

"How'd you know that?"

It was Amos' turn to shrug. He drew on the cigar, exhaled, and flicked off the ash, all without taking his gaze from Kane's. "Not hard to figure, boy. He fathered you, abandoned your mother and you, and left you both to fend for yourselves in an unforgiving world. You probably even blame him for your mother's death, don't you?"

Kane didn't answer, but turned back around so Amos couldn't see his face. It was several moments before he could trust his voice, moments during which he swallowed hard to keep back memories he didn't wish to relive.

"You think you're pretty smart, don't you, old man?" he asked at last.
"Smart enough to figure you out, boy. So what's kept you from it?"

Kane gave a dry, mirthless chuckle. "It's hard to find a man, Judge, when you don't know the first thing about him, not even his name."

Amos nodded. "You said you were named after him."

"Yeah, I am. Darcy is my mama's people's name. His first name is Kane and that's the only thing about the bastard that I know."

"So what do you do? Go from town to town, asking every man you meet his name?"

"No, but I sure listen to hear it. And one of these days, Judge, I'm going to run onto the son-of-a-bitch. When I do---"

"What will it do, Kane? Will killing him take away the hurt? Will it make up for not having a father all your life? Will it make up for what your mother had to do to keep food on the table and a roof over your head?"

Kane shrugged as he glanced at Amos once more. The judge's words had been softly spoken, as if he were reasoning with a child. Somehow, that only made Kane's throat tighter. His eyes burned with the sudden rush of emotion that surged through him.

"No, of course not, but maybe it will let my mama rest in peace finally."

Amos stared at Kane's stiff back and shook his head. "It explains why you're attracted to working girls anyway, why you're kind to them. It also explains why you've always stayed away from nice girls, from any chance to form a real relationship. Isn't that it, Kane? Love let your mama down so you're unwilling to risk it yourself?"

"You know what, old man?" Kane asked as he turned around to face Amos. "You think too damned much! What am I? Your case of the month?"

Amos grinned while he observed another mother and daughter team cross the street and approach them. "Yeah, something like that. Morning, Mrs. Brennan, Betsy."

"Good morning, Judge," Arlene Brennan said in greeting. She also nodded politely to Kane. "Good morning, Marshal. It sure is hot this morning, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kane replied with a mischievous grin at Betsy. "Sure would be a good morning to go fishing, wouldn't it?"

Betsy's dimpled smile made Amos snort. If Kane was a stick of candy, both the girl and her mother would've eaten him right up.

"Oh, it's much too hot to fish, Marshal. Mama and I are going to make some delicious apple pies this afternoon--for the boxed social tonight," Betsy replied.

"Boxed social?" Kane asked, glancing from Betsy's bright eyes to her mother's speculative expression. He'd seen that look a thousand times on mothers' faces over the years but it never failed to amaze him to think that some mother thought he was husband material for her darling daughter.

"Oh yes, Marshal," Betsy went on. "At the church tonight. It starts at six."

"You must be sure to attend, Marshal," Mrs. Brennan said. "It's time you got to see a better side of Cimarron than what you've seen so far. We're really a very friendly town."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Brennan," Kane said with a disarming smile. "I'll think about it."

"You really must attend, Marshal," Betsy added with a sly smile. "Absolutely everyone in Cimarron will be there, just everyone."

After pleasant good-byes, Mrs. Brennan and Betsy went on down the boardwalk.

Kane watched them sashay out of sight before turning back to Amos.

"What the hell is a boxed social?"

"Guess you wouldn't know about things like that, being raised in a whorehouse. I doubt you would have been invited to such events. Simply put, it's a gathering where all the ladies prepare a boxed meal and the men bid on them. Whoever buys the lady's meal, gets to eat it with her."

"Sounds like a million laughs."

"It can be. There's usually music and dancing after the meal. Lots of visiting and such."

"And everybody comes to these things?"

"Just about," Amos agreed. "Best way in the world for a young man and woman to spend time together without having their parents breathing down their necks. Lots of matches have been made at these things."

"A man pays to eat with a woman? Sounds an awful lot like prostitution to me."

"Same principle, only cheaper," Amos said with a grin. "You going?"

Kane scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Now why would I go pay good money to eat with some girl who probably can't cook worth a damn?"

"Oh, I can think of a reason or two," Amos said, smiling at the expression on Kane's face.

***

At five thirty, Kane watched Frederick Gaston go up to the Prescott's back door. At a quarter to six, he watched Frederick reemerge with Abby on his arm. From his perch on the hard backed chair leaned against the outer wall of the sheriff's office, he noticed the large, gaily wrapped package Frederick carried. A few minutes later Abby's parents followed them down the street toward the church.

Kane stood up and went to the porch support where he leaned one shoulder against it, watching Frederick balance the package in one hand while he reached for Abby's hand with the other. The proprietary manner with which Frederick took charge of her, made Kane's teeth grind, but it was the smirk on Frederick's face when he deliberately looked in Kane's direction, then leaned over to kiss Abby's cheek that made his mind up.

By six o'clock he had washed, shaved, and changed into a royal blue shirt and dark trousers. By five minutes after six he walked out onto the hotel porch.

"What took you so long?"

The grin on Amos' face made him feel a little foolish as the judge fell into step beside him as they walked up the street toward the church. "You're thinking this a mistake, aren't you?"

Amos shrugged as he glanced up at Kane's determined face. "What I'm thinking isn't the point, boy. It's what you're thinking that matters."

"I'm thinking that little snot-nosed Frederick Gaston needs his ass kicked!"

Amos chuckled as they neared the church where it seemed the whole town had gathered outside to enjoy the evening. "That's what I figured you were thinking. You know which of those parcels is Abigail's?"

Kane nodded. "Yeah, Frederick was carrying it for her. What do I do now?"

"When the preacher starts to auction it off, you outbid him. That's all. You buy the box and you get to spend the evening with Abby and Freddie gets to stew in his own juice. So does Josiah."

Amos paused to put a hand on Kane's arm. "You sure you want to do this, boy?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Might mess up your thinking. I mean Abigail Prescott is a lady, not your type at all, if memory serves. You go through with this tonight, and who knows? She might have a ring through your nose by morning."

Kane snorted. "Not likely, Your Honor."

"Then why do it at all?"

"I like her, Judge, and she likes me. And I don't think she's looking forward to spending the evening with Freddie. At least that's the impression I got from her earlier. I think she'd rather spend it with me."

"So you're going to rescue her from an evening of boredom? And do what?"

Kane stared at him in surprise. "Eat, for one thing. I didn't have any dinner and I'm hungry."

"Anything else?"

"Damn it, Judge! I'm not going to drag her back to my hotel room and do evil things to her, if that's what you're afraid of!"

"What I'm afraid of, boy, is that you won't have to drag her. I'm afraid she'd be willing. That irresistible charm of yours, remember?"

Kane remembered Abby's fleeting kiss the night she had come to his room. It wasn't the most passionate kiss he'd ever had, but it was the sweetest, and for some unfathomable reason, it had touched him in a manner no other kiss ever had. He wanted to have her alone. He wanted to kiss her back, to teach her how.

"You behave yourself, boy," Amos warned him. "You buy her dinner, eat with her, rub Frederick's nose in his arrogance. Hell, you can even walk her home and kiss her goodnight, but that's all. You keep your hands off that girl, unless you mean it. And I'm not talking about a few rolls in the hay. I'm talking about a commitment, Kane. Do you understand me?"

"Jesus, Judge, will you take it easy? I'm not going to do anything, for God's sake! I'm going to behave like a perfect gentleman. Just watch me, if you don't believe me."

"See that you do," Amos growled meaningfully.

Kane's grin faded and a serious expression took its place. "Relax, Your Honor. I know all too well what happens to a nice girl when some fella with a hard on gets what he wants. I learned that lesson from watching my mama pay for making that mistake for the rest of her life. I'm not about to put some other innocent girl through it. You can take that to the bank."

Amos grinned. "If you pull this off tonight, I don't think going to Gaston's bank will be a very good idea. But I got your point, Kane. Now," he added, turning toward the festivities. "Go show Freddie Gaston what you're made of."

Kane didn't reply as they mixed into the crowd gathering around a long plank table where dozens of brightly wrapped packages were placed. It was time to start the bidding.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After fifteen minutes of watching bored men bid money they couldn't afford on their wives' food boxes, Kane began to wonder about the state of affairs in Cimarron. He glanced around at the people who had gathered in the July evening heat and insects to raise money for some church activity. He didn't know which one. He didn't care.

He stood at the back of the crowd with Amos. His face was stiff from acknowledging all the smiles from Cimarron's patriarchs and their hopeful daughters. Even Mrs. Prescott had offered him a shy smile when Mr. Prescott was otherwise occupied.

He could see Frederick with one arm draped possessively around Abby's shoulders up toward the front of the crowd. He gritted his teeth when Frederick toyed with a lock of her hair, making sure that Kane saw what he was doing. He also saw Abby's scowl when she turned her head to look at Frederick questioningly. She didn't know that Frederick's affection was as much for Kane's benefit as her own.

What the hell am I doing here? Kane asked himself as another middle aged man bought his homely daughter's boxed dinner. I'm standing here with sweat dripping down my back, surrounded by a bunch of women who look like they'd knock me in the head and haul me home to their daughters if they thought they could keep me, which in itself is not a bad idea, except that Judge Connors would have a stroke and send me back to Yuma if I even entertain the thought. And for what? What do I expect to get from all this? I must be crazy---

Then he was yanked from his reverie when Reverend Trotter took Abby's boxed dinner from the table and held it aloft. He held it close to his face, inhaled deeply, and smiled at the audience. "Something sure smells good in here. What am I bid for this lovely package?"

"Two bits."

As soon as Frederick bid, the crowd knew it was Abby's box. Everyone nodded and smiled, expecting the bidding to be over.

"One dollar."

A ripple of gasps ran through the crowd when Kane announced his bid. The look on Frederick's face was priceless, but it was the expression on Abby's face that Kane noted. It was an expression of total surprise, that slowly gave way to pleasure when she looked around to see who had bid against Frederick. She exchanged one brief glance with Kane before dropping her head and looking away, but it was enough to tell Kane what he wanted to know.

"A dollar and a half."

Kane didn't look at Frederick, or at Abby. He kept his gaze focused on Reverend Trotter, ignoring all the whispers and gasps from the crowd.

"Two dollars," he bid.

"Two fifty," Frederick said loudly.

One swift glance at Frederick revealed a face so mottled with fury, he wondered if the young man might pass out.

"Three dollars."

Kane's voice was loud enough to be heard at the platform, but not raised in anger. Indeed, there was a touch of humor in it that only made Frederick more furious. Glancing briefly at Josiah Prescott, he had to wonder which one was more upset that he was bidding on Abby's dinner.

"Five dollars!" Frederick called out. He turned to send Kane a smug expression as though he thought that would be the end of the matter.

"Ten dollars."

There was an explosive collective gasp from the onlookers. Every eye was pinned on Kane's calm face as he raised the bid. Then everyone's gaze flashed back to Frederick to see what his next move would be.

"Twenty five dollars!" he snapped, glaring at Kane openly now.

"Thirty dollars."

Kane was starting to enjoy this. Ever since the night he had taken Abby the flowers, he had wanted to put Frederick in his place, so that now witnessing the young man's fury was most rewarding.

"Thirty five dollars!" Frederick’s voice was rising in both volume and tenor as he realized Kane was not going to back down.

"Forty dollars."

Kane smothered a grin at the desperation that flickered into Frederick's face. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for him. Then a quick glance at Abby's flushed cheeks and wide eyes convinced him to stay with it until he won. She was staring at him now, her mouth open in amazement at both his audacity and his determination.

"Fifty dollars!" Frederick all but shouted.

The crowd had fallen into a shocked quiet so deep the only audible sounds were the crickets and the frogs as they waited to see what Kane would do next.

The game was getting boring. "One hundred dollars."

Abby put a hand to her throat as the shockwave of his bid rippled through the crowd.

Frederick's expression slowly crumbled in despair. Even if he'd had the money to bid again, his throat had closed off and his mouth was so dry he couldn't have vocalized it. Instead, his shoulders slumped with defeat.

"One hundred dollars is the bid," Reverend Trotter said from the platform. His eyes were as wide as saucers too at the heated exchange that had just taken place. "One hundred dollars, going once, going twice…sold to Marshal Darcy for one hundred dollars."

While the preacher paused to take out a white handkerchief and mop his brow, Kane turned to Amos and leaned down so that only the judge could hear him. "How about loaning me some money, Your Honor. I'm a little short."

"How much do you need?" Amos asked as he turned his back to the crowd and dug into his money clip.

"A hundred dollars."

Amos' gaze snapped up to Kane's wide eyed, innocent expression. He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud as he counted off the money and handed it to Kane so that no one could see what he was doing.

"Thanks, you can take this out of my salary," Kane said with a grateful grin.

"Keep it," Amos replied as he tucked the money clip back into his vest. "It was worth every cent of it to see that arrogant little cocksucker choke on his pride."

"Your Honor! What language!" Kane admonished with a grin as he took the money.

He walked through the crowd to the front of the gathering where Reverend Trotter stood holding Abby's box, looking very perplexed. He handed the preacher the handful of bills, took the box, and turned back to Abby with a subdued smile.

"Miss Prescott, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me?"

Abby stared up into his dark dancing eyes, speechless. After a moment, Kane offered her his arm. She took it, put her hand on his elbow and let him lead her through the crowd.

"Just a minute!" Josiah Prescott's voice thundered through the quiet. "If you think for one minute that I'm going to let you…."

"Folks, let's all show the marshal how much we appreciate his generous donation to the organ fund," Reverend Trotter called loudly from the platform.

Seconds later the crowd's thunderous applause drowned out Josiah's furious protest. With everyone applauding Kane's generosity, Josiah quickly realized that this was not the time to pursue the matter. He swallowed hard as he glared at Kane for a moment, then exhaled.

"Make sure you have my daughter home at a decent hour, Marshal," he snarled, paused to direct a meaningful glance at Abby, and then retraced his steps to Deirdre's side.

Neither Kane nor Abby looked at Frederick as they moved past the crowd who had now gone back to the next meal being auctioned off. They approached a large oak tree near the edge of the church lawn with a lush carpet of grass beneath it.

"This looks like a nice spot," Kane said cheerfully.

Abby took the box from him and opened it. She removed a tablecloth first, which Kane spread on the grass at their feet. Then she sank down on it, and began removing the food items from the box.

"Mr. Darcy, I think you must be mad."

Her statement was softly spoken as she took out two plates, silverware, glasses, and a jug of lemonade and arranged them on the cloth. She felt him towering above her and wished he would sit down, then wondered if having him at eye level was all that good an idea. The way his eyes turned to melted chocolate at times was very disconcerting.

"Now why would you say a thing like that?"

Kane dropped to his knees on the tablecloth beside her with a grin. He turned his back to the tree and leaned back against it as he took off his hat and placed it on the ground beside him.

"No meal is worth a hundred dollars! What on earth made you do something so extravagant?"

"Well now, maybe the meal by itself isn't worth a hundred dollars, but when you consider the company I get to keep while I'm eating it? Well, that's a whole different thing."

Abby looked at him directly. The easy smile that brightened his features began to abate her discomfort. He was flirting with her, but that knowledge was not uncomfortable. The only problem she had with it was that she wasn't sure how to respond, or if she should respond at all.

She paused from taking a platter of cold fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, biscuits, and a whole apple pie from the box, to flash him an amused smile. "Mr. Darcy, I fear you are, as my friend Betsy's grandmother would say, full of horse manure. However, since you just very generously donated a hundred dollars to the church's organ fund, I'm willing to let it pass for the moment."

She handed him a well-filled plate before settling back on the cloth to take a much smaller portion for herself. Kane dug into the food with enthusiasm, having not eaten all day, but she merely nibbled at her own meal. She feared swallowing would be impossible for the fierce way her heart was pounding.

"You're not eating, Miss Prescott. Your father didn't poison this food, did he?"

Abby shook her head, embarrassed to be caught staring at him so boldly. How could any woman want food, Mr. Darcy, when she's looking at you? You’re a complete joy to look at, so much more satisfying than mere food.

Her own thoughts made the flush in her cheeks deepen as she averted her gaze from him. Unable to refrain from watching him under the cover of her downcast lashes, she devoured the sight of him stretched out beneath the tree. His long legs were encased in dark snug fitting trousers, his boots shined, his slim waist emphasized by the gunbelt buckled into place.

The dark blue shirt he was wearing was accented by a black string tie that matched his black leather vest. She glanced at the dying sun reflecting off the badge pinned on the vest, then allowed her gaze to focus on the legions of muscle that bunched in his upper arms when he raised the glass of cool lemonade to his lips. It made her curious about the feel of those arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against his body.

She watched him drink, noting the smoothness of his throat as he swallowed. When he set the glass aside and wiped his mouth with the napkin, she felt distinctly uneasy as the thought of how his lips would feel upon hers came crashing through her mind. Maybe I'll find out tonight, she thought, then blushed profusely.

"What happens now?"

Abby stared at him in confusion, having been so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that he was almost finished with the meal.

"Excuse me?" she stammered.

Kane shrugged as he set the plate aside on the cloth and picked up the glass again, rolling it back and forth between his palms while he studied her.

"I've never been to one of these things before so I don't know what the next step is supposed to be."

"What do you usually do after you take a lady to dinner, Mr. Darcy?"

A wicked grin made his teeth a flash of ivory in the gathering dusk. He scratched at his moustache for a moment while he eyed her. "Nothing you'd be interested in, Miss Prescott.'

Want to bet? Abby thought, then quickly looked away from the mischief that made his eyes dance.

Before she could answer, the distinct sound of fiddles and guitars tuning up came from the front of the church yard where the people had begun gathering again after finishing their meals.

"We could dance, I guess. Do you dance, Mr. Darcy?"

The last rays of sunlight made Kane's coal black hair gleam when he nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It's been a while, but I think I remember enough to not tromp all over your feet."

"Or we could just sit here and talk," she suggested.

"What do you want to talk about?"

It was Abby's turn to shrug. "About you. Where you're from, where you're going when you leave Cimarron, what you plan to do with your life."

"Those are pretty serious subjects for such a pretty lady. I'd rather talk about you."

"There's not much to tell," Abby replied as she began gathering up their dishes to put back into the box. "I've lived here all my life."

"But you don't plan to stay here."

She shook her head. "No, I'm going to Boston in the fall to stay with my aunt while I go to school there. I'm looking forward to it."

"But?"

She flashed him a slight smile. "But I've never been away from home before. I must admit I'm a bit apprehensive about it. I know I'm going to miss my family and Betsy."

"What about Frederick? Are you going to miss him too?"

The question made her gaze focus on his. He was watching her expectantly, she thought, then felt foolish for allowing herself the vanity of thinking Kane Darcy would be concerned about her feelings for another man.

"Sometimes I think I'll miss Frederick," she said slowly. "Other times I'm glad to be leaving him."

Kane settled back against the tree trunk, feeling vaguely relieved. He watched her pack away the dirty dishes and leftover food into the box and cover it with their napkins. Dozens of lanterns had been lit to illuminate the dance area beyond the ring of trees surrounding the church yard so he had a clear vision of her features. She was chewing her lower lip thoughtfully as she cleaned up the remains of their meal. Her hair was arranged in an upswept coiffure that made her appear older than she was, but the grown up mature look didn't fool him.

She's as naïve as a girl can possibly be, he thought. Never been out of this one horse town, never been away from her mama and daddy, never been kissed by a man that knows how.

The dark green of her dress made her fair features translucent in the soft lighting. Her breasts strained the bodice as she moved the box to one side, her hand brushing his hand in the process. The innocent gesture sent his blood pressure soaring. The instant arousal that resulted made him thankful for the shadows falling over them as he quickly folded his hands in his lap to keep it from becoming obvious.

"Sounds like you don't share your old man's plans for the future," he said. "With Frederick, I mean."

"I used to."

"What changed your mind?"

Abby's gaze searched his, and was surprised to find his eyes were filled with something she could only suspect was desire. Having never seen desire in a man's eyes aside from Frederick, she wasn't sure at first.

Her hands were shaky when she met his direct gaze without blinking. "I think you know the answer to that question, Mr. Darcy. Do I really have to voice it?"

"I'd like it if you did."

"I once thought Frederick was all I could ever wish for in a man. I know now that is not true. How could I ever look at him the same after having looked at you?"

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as she stared at him in the shadows. She couldn't believe she was saying such intimate things to him. She hardly believed she was brave enough to admit them to herself.

"So you don't have plans to marry him?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know where things stand before I make an ass of myself."

"Marriage is what Frederick wants, what my parents want. I'm not ready to marry anyone yet. I want to go to school. I want to find out who I am before I become someone's wife."

"Know what I want, Miss Prescott?"

She shook her head, her gaze still fixed on his mesmerizing ebony eyes. She wasn't sure she wanted to know his answer, but no force on earth could have prevented her from hearing it.

"I want to take you for a walk down by the stream."

Kane got to his feet and held his hand out to her. Abby hesitated only a second before taking it and letting him pull her to her feet. He bent down to pick up his hat and the tablecloth. He handed the cloth to her as he put his hat on.

Abby quickly folded it and stuck it in the top of the box. Then Kane took the box in one hand and her hand in the other. In only a moment they were well beyond the ring of lantern light and the sound of music and dancing as they walked hand in hand toward the stream that ran by the edge of the cemetery.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Why did you really bid on my dinner?"

Abby's voice was soft as she walked at Kane side through the heat of the July evening. They had left the box social gathering far behind. A cooler breeze sifted down from the massive oaks above them, but the heat coursing through her veins could not be cooled so easily.

"The truth?"

She nodded, looking up at Kane through the moonlight filtering through the trees. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. The truth."

Kane pushed his hat back and scratched his neck for a moment. "The truth is, Miss Prescott, that a man like me rarely tells a young woman the truth."

"Why is that, Mr. Darcy?"

"Because the truth sometimes isn't very pretty."

"In other words, you're only interested in seeing how far they'll let you get? Is that about it?"

"No, ma'am. As a rule, I don't even let myself be interested in a nice girl."

"Why not? Too much work?"

Abby didn't know whether to be angry or embarrassed. On one hand, she was pleased that he considered her a nice girl. On the other, she was disappointed for some unfathomable reason, and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why he was interested in her at all.

"Too dangerous." Kane glanced down at her confused features and shrugged. "I guess none of this makes much sense to you. It doesn't to me either. I grew up around a lot of nice girls who had made some big mistakes where a man was concerned. The majority of them paid for that mistake for the rest of their lives. Nice girls are for marrying, Miss Prescott, not for having fun with. So, since I don't plan on marrying, the other kind are more suitable."

Abby thought this over for a moment. "Then why are you here with me? Do you think that because I kissed you the other night, that perhaps I'm not as proper as you thought? Is that it, Mr. Darcy? Do you think that I'm……"

Kane's hands on her shoulders cut off the rest of her statement. She found herself staring up into the most volatile pair of eyes she'd ever seen, especially at this close range. His fingers cut into her flesh for a moment, then he seemed to realize he was hurting her, and loosened his grip.

"I think, Miss Prescott, that you are probably the most beautiful, the most enchanting young woman I've ever met." His tone was harsher than he intended but it gradually softened as he continued to stare at her. "I think you are quite possibly the exception to my rule. And that's not good, not for me, nor for you."

"Do I scare you, Mr. Darcy?"

She felt his hands drop from her shoulders. As she watched him, she saw a myriad of emotions flash through his face, not the less of which was a kind of confusion.

"You might put it that way," he admitted after a moment. He took her hand again and began walking once more. "I've never been attracted to anyone as young as you, for one thing. You're eighteen; I'm thirty. That's a big difference in age."

"But you just said you don't plan on marriage. Neither do I for a long time. So marriage aside, just what are your intentions toward me, Mr. Darcy?"

"For starters, you can start calling me by my first name."

"I’d like that, Kane, but first names indicate a relationship. We have no relationship, at this point at least. As for the age difference, years don't concern me. The vast difference between my experience and yours, now that is a concern."

"Why?"

She looked at him in surprise. "I'm not well versed in the courting ritual, Kane. Frederick is the only man I've ever kept company with and well…our relationship has been strictly proper, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, ma'am," Kane said with a grin. He halted then and turned toward her with a more serious expression taking shape on his face. "Look, Abby, the only kind of courtship that I’m familiar with, is the five minute kind. You know, howdy miss, nice night ain't it? You want to come up to my room or go to yours? I've never kept company, as you put it, with any woman. Never saw the same one more than once usually."

Abby waited, her breath coming in short little gasps. The emotion in his voice and the heat in his eyes had combined to make her lightheaded.

"What I'm trying to say is that I don't have the damnedest clue of where to start. Hell, this social thing tonight was the first time I'd ever been to anything like that. I don't know what proper young ladies do when they keep company with a man. I don't know where to take you, what to buy you, or what the hell else you expect. So why don't you just tell me and then we'll both know."

The exasperation in his voice made Abby smile. She took his arm as they

resumed walking once more. The silver sparkle of the stream loomed directly ahead. The breeze overhead in the oaks gently stirred her hair and dried the sweat from her neck.

"Well, let me think. Ours is not the typical relationship. My father hates you and refuses to let me speak to you. So if I choose to do so, then I must defy my father's wishes. That's the first hurdle we face."

"Then I'll just have to convince your father that I have only the most honorable intentions toward you."

"And do you, have honorable intentions?"

Kane looked at her in surprise, wondering why she'd even have to ask the question. "Of course."

"Let me get this straight," Abby said thoughtfully as they paused on the bank of the stream. "I'm going away to school in the fall and you'll be leaving town as soon as this trouble with the ranchers is cleared up. Neither of us have any serious thoughts toward a permanent relationship. So, what you're suggesting then is that we see each other during the interval, without it becoming serious?"

Kane nodded, thinking how silly that must sound to her, and wondering at the same time if that was a promise he could keep at all. "Well, yeah, I guess so."

"Suppose curiosity gets the better of me?"

His eyes widened at her question, then a frown wrinkled his brow. "Excuse me?"

"Forgive my boldness, but at the risk of sounding a bit…risqué, I would hope that at some point, this...relationship we're discussing would progress to such a degree that you would want to kiss me. Nothing more, mind you, but a kiss."

Abby kept her face averted so he couldn't see the flush that seemed to be flooding through her. Oh my God, I can't believe I just said that!!

"Why, Miss Prescott, you little vixen!"

The teasing quality of his voice only made her blush deepen, but she was

compelled to look up into his eyes. What she saw made her heart start racing. Her breath all but froze in her throat when he reached out and took a tendril of hair that had come loose from her chignon and sifted it through his fingers.

"What would you say if I told you that I've been thinking of nothing else all

night?"

"I-I-I--"

"My sentiments exactly," Kane said as he bent his head toward her.

His fingers moved from her hair, slipped behind her head, and pulled her face

upward. His other arm encircled her shoulders, easing her into an embrace that seemed as natural as the breeze sifting over the treetops.

The contact with his body sent thunderbolts crashing through her. She leaned into

his embrace, slipping her arms around his neck, suddenly unsure she could stand on her own. She felt his mouth cover hers. It was warm, commanding, and altogether so exciting it made her senses reel.

Instead of the closed mouth pecks she was accustomed to receiving from

Frederick, Kane's mouth was experienced in ways that she'd never dreamed of. At his gentle insistence, she opened her lips beneath his, felt his tongue flick at hers, and thought she was surely going to faint.

Nothing had prepared her for this. Not even in her wildest imaginings had she

thought kissing a man could arouse such intense emotions. Her ears were filled with the pounding of her heart until the sound drowned out everything else. She no longer heard the stream babbling nearby, nor the crickets and frogs singing their evening lullabies. All she heard was the beating of her heart against Kane's chest, and his beating in reply. All she felt was the indescribable pleasure of his mouth on hers, powerful yet gentle, persuasive, and growing more passionate with each passing moment.

His hand left the back of her head and moved down her back. With both arms

around her, he pulled her still closer into his embrace until she felt the unmistakable hardness of his arousal against her belly.

She knew she should be shocked, but she wasn't. She knew she should pull away,

but she didn't. She had waited for this moment forever, it seemed, and she wanted nothing more than to savor it for as long as possible.

Kane pulled away finally with a ragged breath. Holding her shoulders with both hands, he looked down at her upturned face with its bright eyes and inviting open lips. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Judge Connors' warning reverberated, pushing even the kindling fire of passion in Abby's inexperienced body to a safer place, out of reach.

"That, young lady, is exactly what worries me," he said in a low husky tone. "You want a proper relationship, but when you kiss a man like that…well, proper kinda goes right out the window."

Abby's face burned in the soft light, not as much from confusion as from the passion still flaming inside her. "I'm sorry," she whispered at last. "You're right. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe we should forget…."

"Yeah, maybe we should."

Kane took her arm and turned her back toward town. They walked in silence for a few moments before his breathing resumed a near normal level. As they neared the Prescott’s back staircase, Abby suddenly halted and turned to look up at him.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" she asked.

"No," Kane replied, shaking his head. " I don't want to hurt you. I'll be leaving Cimarron in a few days, a few weeks at most and when I'm gone, you'll still have a life here. Unless I let you screw it up."

"So you're going to do the noble thing and not see me again?" Abby's voice was stronger than she dared hope. She bit her lip to still its trembling and blinked back the tears that burned her eyes.

"Noble?" Kane gave a short, bitter laugh. "It's not noble, Abby. I'm not a noble man. You ought to know that by now. But I don't think a summer of holding hands and going to church socials is my cup of tea. So it's best if we just stop it now."

"I see," Abby said quietly as she stared up at him in the moonlight. "I'm not worldly enough? Not experienced enough? Too naïve for you?"

Kane sighed as he took her arm and propelled her toward the bottom of the staircase. "No, Abby, it's not you. Damn it, girl, don't you see that? This is for your own good, if you'd open your eyes. Take a good look at me. I'm almost twice your age, I'm a convicted felon...hell, I don't even have a last name that's my own."

"I don't…."

"Oh, but you will," Kane finished for her. His tone was grim, his expression dead serious now, all hints of his usual good humor buried beneath the crushing weight of reality. "A few more nights like this and I'll take something from you that I have no right to. Something you can't ever take back, and then I'll leave here. But by that time, your future with Frederick will be ruined and so will your reputation."

He managed a weak smile, amazed that the unshed tears in her eyes sent a stab of regret through him. "Face it, Abby, your old man is right about me. I'm no damned good."

He cupped her chin in one hand for a moment, then let go and abruptly turned on his heel. Walking rapidly, he disappeared around the corner into the darkness beyond.

Abby stood in the darkness alone for several minutes, listening to the sound of his footsteps growing more faint in the distance until they ceased altogether. Then she drew a long shuddering breath and wiped at her eyes.

"Coward!" she said aloud to no one. "You big coward! That one lousy kiss meant as much to you as it did to me and that scares the dickens out of you, doesn't it?

Well, you're probably right. I'm not going to be another of your conquests, Mr. Darcy, and you don't know how to have a real relationship. God forbid that you develop feelings that might actually lead to something. So it's over, right now, finished before it started."

She lifted her head and began climbing the stairs to the back door. You're a coward, and I'm a liar. I can no more forget what happened tonight than you can, but if you can pretend it meant nothing, then so can I. You won't find me pining away for you, Mr. Darcy. Not by a long shot!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The lamp that lit the kitchen area made Abby's heart sink with despair. No doubt her father was waiting to give her another lecture, or worse. So she was quite surprised when only her mother was present when she entered the room.

Deirdre Prescott sat in the age old rocking chair near the open window. Her Bible was open in her lap, her spectacles on the tip of her nose as she read. A slight breeze stirred the lace curtain beside the chair but the air was so heavy that it did not help to dispel the heat and humidity.

"Mother! I'm surprised that Papa isn't waiting up for me," Abby said as she halted in the doorway to observe her mother.

Deirdre closed the Bible while she glanced up at her daughter with a faint smile. "Your father isn't feeling well, dear, so I sent him off to bed." She scanned Abby's flushed face and tear-filled eyes, then took off her spectacles and laid them on the lamp table atop the Bible. "I can see that your evening wasn't as pleasant as you'd hoped. Would you like to talk about it?"

The soft tone of her mother's voice threatened to bring on an onslaught of tears, but Abby blinked them back. "There's nothing really to tell, Mother. I had dinner with Mr. Darcy, we went for a walk by the river, he kissed me, and promptly decided that he wasn't interested in me after all. I'm sure Papa will be pleased to hear this when you give him your report in the morning."

The slight twitching of Deirdre's lips went unnoticed as Abby ripped the pins from her hair, letting it fall in a golden shower around her shoulders.

"I see. Any idea why Mr. Darcy made this startling revelation?"

"Oh, yes," Abby said. "It scared the pants off him, that's why."

"Really?"

"Yes. Oh, he would never admit it, Mother, but he really likes me. I think he's afraid of liking me too much, and heaven forbid that he make an actual commitment to something other than….."

"Loose women and drink?" Deirdre suggested dryly. Abby's unhappiness tugged at her heart while at the same time she was overjoyed that her daughter was actually confiding in her. It had been a long time since she'd done that.

"Loose women don't require commitment, Mother. Nor do they require honor. Two qualities that Mr. Darcy seems to be severely lacking."

"But that doesn't keep you from being fascinated with him, does it, dear?"

"No," Abby sighed. "It doesn't." Her face brightened with the memory of that kiss as she came across the room and sank to the floor at her mother's feet. "The problem, Mother, is that I'm a nice girl, and Mr. Darcy has taken a vow to avoid nice girls. Something to do with his upbringing. The plain fact is that the man is a coward!"

"Perhaps Mr. Darcy is having feelings he's never had before, Abigail. And given his upbringing, he's struggling with those feelings. Perhaps you're being a bit too hard on him."

Abby looked at her mother in complete surprise. "Why, Mother, I can't believe you're taking his side!"

Deirdre smiled faintly as she smoothed Abby's tumbled hair. "I'm not taking his side, dear. I'm trying to be fair, that's all. Mr. Darcy has some very rough edges, I'll admit, but I believe that underneath his armor, he's also a decent man. Given his past transgressions, I rather think he's a bit concerned about your welfare, if he cares about you at all."

"Oh, he cares," Abby said confidently, remembering the passion behind that kiss. "He just doesn’t know what to do with it, other than the ways he normally expresses himself."

"Then be thankful he's honorable enough to realize the danger in this situation and back away before it gets out of hand."

"Oh, Mother," Abby sighed as she laid her head against her mother's knee and closed her eyes. "I've never known anyone like him before. He's so…so handsome, and he's really very sweet, and I know we could have something so special, if he'd just…"

"Abigail, you can't force emotions from a man if he's not willing to give them," Deirdre said softly as she continued to smooth Abby's hair in a comforting gesture. "And you can't force commitment from him either. Sometimes, dear, we just fall in love with the wrong man."

Abby's eyes widened with surprise at her mother's choice of terms. Love! She had never considered that possibility. Could she be falling in love with Kane Darcy? God forbid!

"And sometimes, the man is just too stupid to know what he really wants," she murmured.

Deirdre laughed softly, then bent to kiss the top of Abby's head. "Abigail, Mr. Darcy is not a stupid man, dear. Far from it. He's probably the most astute young man that I've met in a very long while. And, being the astute young man that he is, at some point, he's going to realize what he really wants, as you put it. But that's a decision he's going to have to make on his own. You can't force it on him, but you might help lead him to it."

Abby looked up at the smile on her mother's face in amazement. She had never expected to hear her mother offer such a suggestion. Indeed, she was beginning to see her mother in a completely different light.

"And how might I go about that?" she asked curiously.

"By conducting yourself properly, by being the modest young woman he's come to know."

"How is that going to help?"

Deirdre laughed softly at the confusion on Abby's face. "It's those very qualities, dear, that attracted him to you in the first place. Men like Mr. Darcy may take advantage of what the kind of women he's accustomed to have to offer, dear, but when he falls in love, it will be with a woman like you, virtuous, innocent, and unsoiled."

"I don't think the way I kissed him tonight, Mother, exactly spoke volumes about that."

"I'm sure Mr. Darcy was well aware that your kiss tonight was the first time you'd ever kissed a man in that manner. That's also part of the fascination, dear. You are totally unlike any woman he's ever been attracted to. Your innocence is a two-edged sword. On one hand, he's intrigued by it, on the other, knowing that you are a virtuous young woman, makes him protective of you. It makes you special in his eyes. It is also what scares him. He knows that impropriety with you is not acceptable. What he must overcome is his fear of commitment. When he does…."

Abby sat up and looked at her mother with new respect. "How do you know all this, Mother?" she asked curiously.

Deirdre smiled. "I knew a young man like Mr. Darcy once, Abigail. Many years ago."

Abby's eyes widened with shock. "You did! Who was he? What happened?"

Deirdre took her hand and got to her feet. She leaned down to blow out the lamp and began leading Abby through the darkened house toward the bedrooms at the back. "I married him, dear," she said with a smile when she paused outside Abby's bedroom door to kiss her goodnight. "Goodnight, Abigail. Sleep well."

***

Kane slammed the door shut on the prison wagon and fixed the lock in place. He turned to the stone-faced guard with a nod, then backed up onto the porch in front of the sheriff's office out of the rain. The guard checked the locked door, went to the front of the wagon to climb on, and a moment later the vehicle went swaying up the muddy street toward the edge of town.

Kane leaned against the porch column, watching until it disappeared into the mist. He dug into a vest pocket, produced a small thin cigar and matches, lit it, and let out a heavy sigh.

It was shortly past dawn but the sun was well hidden beneath a low hanging cloud cover that had produced a nasty thunderstorm during the night and was continuing to drench the town with a steady downpour. Not that he minded the rain. The ranchers were in severe need of rain to fill the empty creek beds and nourish their herds. Maybe this would help ease the tension between them.

"What's the matter, boy? The sight of that prison wagon give you the creeps?"

Kane recognized Amos' amused voice from behind him, but did not turn around. Instead, he kept staring morosely into the rain and smoking the cigar. "It's not one of my fondest memories," he grunted in response to the question.

"Mine either."

"Didn't seem that way to me when you sentenced all those jokers to prison the other day."

Amos shrugged as he joined Kane at the edge of the porch and leaned against the opposite side of the supporting column. "I did what had to be done. Didn't mean I enjoyed it."

Kane didn't reply. He inhaled deeply on the aromatic cigar, then exhaled slowly.

Amos cast a curious glance at him. "You look like hell this morning," he observed.

"Not even on my worst day, Judge, do I look bad."

Kane's dry humor made Amos grin as he chewed the end of his cigar. "Guess your evening didn't turn out so well."

Kane glanced at him then, his eyes still bloodshot from lack of sleep and too much liquor. "It turned out fine," he grunted.

"Sure doesn't look that way to me. Looks like you've been in fight with a grizzly bear, and lost."

Amos straightened up and slapped Kane on the back. "Come on, I'll buy you breakfast and you can tell me about it."

"I'm already in debt to you a hundred dollars."

"I told you, forget that. Consider it a gift. Now, how about breakfast?"

Kane shrugged, then followed Amos across the street to the restaurant. It was still early so there were few customers at that hour. Finding a table was easy and in moments they were enjoying hot coffee while they waited for their meal.

Kane sat staring through the window into the rain. He made only grunts at Amos' attempt at conversation until Amos leveled a direct gaze at him.

"What the hell happened last night to put you in such a shitty mood?" he demanded at last.

"Nothing happened, and even if it did, I wouldn't discuss it with you."

Amos grinned in spite of Kane's sharp tone. He waited until the waitress had refilled their cups before making his observations audible.

"Let me see now. Could only be one of two things. One, Miss Prescott didn't warm up to your bullshit and charm like you thought, or two, she did. One would mean that your ego took a huge beating and you slunk back to the saloon to assuage your wounded pride in some pretty little working girl and a bottle of cheap whisky. Which would account for the way you look this morning. Or two, you did something you shouldn't have and now your conscience is hurting. For your sake, boy, I hope it's the first, not the second."

"You're wrong, Judge, on both counts."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Not really."

"Make the effort, Kane." Amos' voice was light but the underlying meaning was quite obvious.

Kane finally drew his attention from the window and looked at Amos directly. "Nothing happened. We ate dinner, we took a walk down by the stream, I kissed her, and then I walked her home. There! Satisfied?"

"No. I want to hear the part you're leaving out."

"I told her I didn't think it was a good idea if we saw each other again."

Amos' heavy brows arched in surprise. "Really. What brought you to that remarkable conclusion?"

Kane shrugged as he looked away from the probing intensity of Amos' clear blue gaze. "Like you said, Your Honor, she's a nice girl. There's no place in my life for a nice girl."

Amos' grin slowly spread until it covered his face. "Well, I'll be damned! You actually thought about somebody else for a change instead of yourself. I'm impressed, boy."

"Go to hell!" Kane snapped as he got to his feet. He ripped the badge off his vest and tossed it on the table. "And take this damned job with you!"

He got a couple of feet from the table when Amos' stern voice stopped him.

"Kane, come back and sit down!"

Memories of a prison door clanging shut behind him made Kane think it over. The authority in Amos' voice convinced him. He turned and came back to the table, yanked the chair out and sank into it, all the while glaring at Amos.

Amos scooted the badge across the table toward him. "Put it back on. Your job's not finished here. I'll tell you when it is. Until then, you do what I tell you. Understand?"

"Listen, you bossy old fart! You don't own me!"

"I do until I decide to grant you a pardon. Now," Amos added with a grin at the hostility on Kane's face. "Smooth your ruffled feathers and tell old Amos what's got your back up."

"Nothing," Kane grunted. He took the badge, stared at it for a moment, then reluctantly pinned it back in place on his vest.

"Maybe that kiss meant more than you intended for it to?"

"A kiss is a kiss, Judge. One don't mean any more than another."

Amos snorted. The expression on Kane's face said a lot more than his words indicated. "That may be the way it's always been before, but I'd say you've just found out that kissing Abigail Prescott is a whole different thing. And if realizing that is what's got your nose out of joint this morning, then you must be making progress."

"You through?"

Amos nodded with a grin. "Just about. There's just one more thing." He picked up his coffee cup and toyed with it while keeping his sharp gaze pinned on Kane's hostile expression. "If you have feelings for this girl, Kane, real feelings, I mean, not the kind you're used to, do your damnedest to become the man she deserves."

Kane stared at him for a moment, torn between wanting to laugh at his advice, and wanting to spill out his confusion. "There's no way in hell I could ever do that, Judge. She deserves someone a hell of a lot better than me, and I told her so. I'm no good for her, and I told her that too."

"Trouble is, she don't believe it, and somewhere down deep in your gut, neither do you. If you did, you wouldn't be this disturbed about telling her you don't want to see her again. I think for the first time in your sordid life, boy, you're developing feelings you don't know how to deal with."

"And I suppose you do." Kane's tone was sarcastic. His brows had arched with curiosity while he waited for Amos' bit of wisdom, but his eyes were wary, almost despairing.

Amos nodded. "I know enough to tell you that if you want this girl, you've got to do right by her. The word marriage ever cross your mind?"

"And offer her what? A thirty dollar a month job? How am I supposed to take care of her on that?"

The fact that Kane had not denied that the thought had crossed his mind made Amos smile. "People get by on a lot less. If you care about each other the amount of money you make don't make a great big difference."

"That's easy for you to say," Kane snorted. "Besides, her old man hates my guts. And she wants to go back East to school in the fall. She wants to do something with her life. I've got nothing to offer her. No money, no place of my own. What I do have is a prison record and a bad reputation."

"You've also got a strong back and a quick mind. You could do a lot with them if you put your mind to it. You're earning the respect of every man and woman in this town with every passing day. Pretty soon people aren't going to remember where you came from because it's where you are and what you do with it that matters."

"That won't make it go away."

Amos studied the bleak expression on Kane's handsome face for a moment. "People come from bad circumstances every day, boy. You make a choice at some point to either rise above them, or wallow in them for the rest of your life and use that for an excuse for every missed opportunity that you let pass you by. You've got to decide which you're going to do. Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and live with that decision."

He got to his feet, drew a five dollar gold piece from his vest pocket, and tossed it on the table. "Eat yourself some breakfast, Kane. Then take a bath, shave, and put on some clean clothes. While you're at it, take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror. If you don't like the man you see there, change him. You can do that, you know. Just takes work, commitment, and some reason strong enough to make the effort. Could be that Abigail Prescott is reason enough for you. Only you know."

He placed his hand on Kane's shoulder for a moment, then walked briskly from the restaurant into the downpour outside. Kane sat staring after him in grim silence until the waitress came to take his order. Dammed old man! he thought as Amos disappeared into the courthouse across the street. Who died and made you God anyway? As soon as this business with the ranchers is over I'm shaking the dust of this one horse town off my boots and getting the hell outa here!

He sipped at the scalding coffee, then cradled the cup between his palms. Nobody's told me what to do for years, and no one's starting now. Not you. Not Abby Prescott either! I've got this far in life without either of you, and I can get the rest of the way just fine.

He sat staring at his reflection in the polished plate in front of him, knowing he was looking at the biggest liar in town.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

By midmorning the rain had tapered off to a drizzle. Instead of reducing the heat and humidity, it only seemed to make it worse. Everything was damp and musty as Abby went about the store with her feather duster. Her father still wasn't feeling well. Her mother had insisted he stay in bed that morning so Abby was expected to open the store and help out with the bedraggled customers that braved the weather to shop.

It didn't help her mood any when she looked up at the tinkling of the bell above the front door to see Frederick heading her way. His face looked as dark as the clouds hovering over the town as he walked purposefully toward her.

"Abby, I want to talk to you."

"What about, Frederick?" she asked sweetly. The talk she'd had with her mother the previous evening had given her a new insight into both Kane Darcy and her situation regarding him. She wasn't going to let Frederick make things any worse.

"About last night. I want to know what happened."

"Mr. Darcy outbid you, Frederick," she said with an innocent glance at him.

"I mean where did you disappear to with that man?"

"He walked me home, that's all."

"I looked for you but it's like you vanished into thin air."

"If I didn't know you better, Frederick, I'd say you are a sore loser."

Her determined good humor about the whole thing only made Frederick more frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at her in amazement. "That man made a fool of us both last night, Abby. Or don't you realize that?"

"I don't know what you mean," she replied defensively. She moved away from him, keeping her feather duster moving briskly over the display of knives near the cash register on the counter.

"Don't you understand what he did? He was playing a game with you, Abby!"

Abby turned toward him then, her eyes wide . "What are you talking about, Frederick?"

Frederick sighed. "Abby, sometimes you're too naïve for your own good," he said wearily. "Kane Darcy outbid me for your dinner last night to get even. For that night when I wouldn't let him give you those flowers."

"Frederick, I doubt seriously you could have stopped him, if he truly wanted to give me flowers." Or anything else, she thought to herself. "Where do you get these ideas?"

Frederick stared at her incredulously. "Abby, the man is a rake. His main hobby in life is bedding every woman that comes within fifty yards of him. You're his next target."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Abby snapped as she moved on to another display. "He's behaved as a perfect gentleman!"

"That's only to gain your trust, to get you to let down your guard. When you do, he's going to gobble you down like a starving hound with a bone."

His analogy made her giggle. That only made him more angry and frustrated. "Honestly, Frederick, you make him sound like the Big Bad Wolf. He's nothing like that."

"Well, you just mark my words, he's playing you for a sap, Abby. And he's an expert at the game. If you aren't careful, he'll have you on your back before you even know what's happening."

Quick anger made Abby's eyes sparkle as she turned to him. She jabbed him in the chest with the feather duster. "Watch your language, Frederick! I will not be spoken to in that manner! And for your information, the only male around here that's tried to get me on my back has been you…repeatedly. Mr. Darcy has treated me with nothing except the utmost respect. That's more than I can say for you. Now move out of my way! You're holding up my work!"

Frederick met her angry stare for a moment, then clamped his mouth shut and stalked out of the store. Abby watched him cross the street, enter the bank, and slam the door shut behind him.

She kept dusting near the front windows of the store. She told herself the merchandise there needed more work, but the truth was that she was keeping an eye on the sheriff's office across the street. There had been no sign of Kane all morning. She wondered where he was and if he had been thinking about the previous evening, as she had.

She noticed four riders pull to a halt in front of the bank, dismount, and tie their mounts to the hitching rail in front. Four rather unkempt men walked resolutely into the bank and shut the door. A moment later, the closed sign came down over the front window.

"Oh, my God!" she whispered aloud.

Without thinking, she dropped the feather duster and ran out of the store. She dodged a freight wagon, then a pair of dogs crossing the street on her way to the sheriff's office. Flinging open the door, she dashed inside.

"Kane! Kane!" she called frantically.

He wasn't there. She ran back outside and looked around. Then she saw him coming up the boardwalk a block away. Running toward him, she tripped over her long skirts. Cursing under her breath, she paused to gather them up and ran headlong toward him.

"Kane!" she called again as she neared him.

One look at her face told him something was terribly wrong. Hoping it wasn't her father again, Kane caught her upper arms as she stumbled on the rough boardwalk and almost ran headlong into him.

"What is it, Abby?"

So out of breath from fear and her mad dash to find him, she could hardly talk, she pointed wildly over her shoulder. "The bank!" she gasped. "Four men…just went inside…pulled down the shade….robbery!"

He pushed her toward the open door of the gun shop they were standing in front of. He dashed to the counter and yanked a Winchester off the display. "Bullets!" he said to the owner.

The older gentleman who owned the shop immediately reached beneath the counter and came up with a box of cartridges. Kane had the rifle loaded in only seconds and headed for the open door.

"Keep her inside!" he said to the shop owner over his shoulder as he ran up the boardwalk toward the bank.

The street was almost deserted of traffic, thanks to the weather. At least the risk of danger to the townspeople was less than it might have been, he thought as the front door of the bank burst open and two of the gunmen emerged. They began shooting the second they saw him.

His first bullet caught one in the chest. The man dropped in his tracks, still holding the sack of money they'd taken from the bank. A second man grabbed the bag and lunged for the horses tied in front.

Kane fired from the hip, without aiming. The man fell face down in the mud beside the frightened horses. The second pair of gunmen came out of the bank shooting. Bullets crashed into the wall near Kane's head as he ducked behind a horse trough on the street. Water sprayed all over when the two outlaws continued shooting at him.

Kane raised the rifle and shot back. He moved around the end of the trough and ran, firing from the hip, across the street for better cover behind a loaded freight wagon parked in front of the hardware store.

Bullets kicked up mud all around him as he dove behind the wagon. He rolled over onto his belly and sighted along the rifle barrel for a better shot. The third gunman grabbed at his face and toppled off the horse he was trying to mount.

"One more," Kane said aloud as he waited for the fourth man to show himself.

He didn't have to wait long. The man reemerged from the bank with Frederick held in front of him as a shield. "Damn! He would have to take Freddie for a hostage, wouldn't he?"

The robber knew Kane wouldn't shoot for fear of hitting Frederick. He shoved the frightened boy toward the horses, keeping one hand wrapped in the collar of Frederick's shirt for control.

The frightened horses were rearing and snorting, making mounting all but impossible. The man shoved Frederick head first into the saddle of the one nearest but Frederick was too scared to move fast enough. The man put the gun barrel behind his ear.

Kane knew he intended to kill the boy. But he had no clear shot from where he was. Getting a clear shot meant having to expose himself. Shit, I'm going to get myself killed over that little cocksucker, he thought as he moved along the edge of the wagon.

There was no time to think. He moved from behind the wagon into the open momentarily, intending to get behind the door of the general store directly across from the bank where he'd have a clear shot.

The bullet from the outlaw's gun caught him just above the belt buckle. For a second Kane felt like he'd been hit in the stomach with a fist. It slammed him up against the wall of the general store like a rag doll.

The impact caused him to drop the rifle. It clattered on the boardwalk as he slowly slid down the wall with his back. He looked down at the blood gushing from between his fingers where he had instinctively clasped his left hand over the wound.

It was a moment before he realized he had been hit, or how bad it was. There was no pain, only a kind of heavy cloud that began closing in over him. Numbness began in his legs and swept upward like a fiery surge of lightning.

He heard a woman screaming in the distance but it sounded very far away. He didn't recognize Abby's voice as she stood in the doorway of the gun shop down the street, but he saw her momentarily. Well, shit, he thought to himself as that heavy cloud dropped lower, threatening to cut off his breath. Of all the hair brained, stupid stunts....get myself killed...and for what? So...Freddie can have my girl….

The outlaw shoved Fredrick away from him. With a victorious smirk on his unshaven face, he walked across the street and stepped up onto the boardwalk.

"Well, Marshal," he said looking around at the rain falling from a dark, ominous sky. "You sure picked a sorry day to die."

He was thumbing the hammer of the Colt as he talked. Kane saw him lift the weapon, saw his thumb pull back the hammer for a fatal shot.

"Not today, you son-of-a-bitch!" Kane snarled as he used every ounce of strength remaining to pull the trigger of the Colt on his hip.

He fired without removing the weapon, shooting through the end of the holster. The first bullet caught the outlaw in the chest, the second caught him in the face, spinning him backwards into the street. He fell over the hitch rail in front of the store, did a spin, and hit the ground stone dead.

As Kane's hand slid off the pistol butt, he was surrounded by people, but they were only faceless voices, as consciousness began slipping away. He heard a woman sobbing, felt her tears fall on his face but his eyelids were too heavy to open.

"Get the doctor!" he heard a gruff male voice command from somewhere above him in the fog surrounding him.

"You hang on, boy. You hear me!"

Kane managed a faint grin at the command in Amos' voice. "Looks like that marshal's job is open, after all, Your Honor," he mumbled.

"The hell it is!"

He felt Amos open his shirt, vaguely heard the old man's muttered curse when he saw the wound. Then his eyes felt so heavy he couldn't open them at all. He had a strange floating sensation, as though he wasn't in his body anymore. He was suddenly very sleepy.

There's no pain. Funny, I always figured when I got myself killed it would hurt like hell. I must be dead already….

CHAPTER TWENTY

Abby knelt beside Kane on the boardwalk, staring horrified at the amount of blood pouring out of him. When he went limp, she almost fainted, thinking he was dead. She picked up his hand and held it to her cheek, not even aware that his bloody fingers left crimson streaks across her face.

The town's portly doctor arrived within moments. He took one quick look at Kane and got quickly to his feet. "No exit wound. The bullet is still in him. It's got to come out and we've got to stop the bleeding. I need someplace to take him. I've got a woman in my office in labor."

"Take him to my place, " Amos barked.

There was no lack of volunteers to carry Kane down the street to Amos' modest home on a side street just behind the courthouse. Amos hurried on ahead of them to open the door and yank down the covers of his spare bed in a large spacious bedroom.

"We'll need lots of hot water."

Abby looked around in surprise to find her mother rolling up her sleeves as she headed through the house in search of the kitchen. She paused in the doorway to flash Abby a grim smile. "Come help me, dear."

"But--"

"You'll only be in the way for now, Abigail," Deirdre said firmly. "We can help more by supplying Doctor Weaver's needs the best we can. Now, you start filling these pots with water from the pump over there, and I'll stoke the fire in the stove."

Abby was further amazed by her mother's calm and authoritative manner as she took charge of the situation. She scurried to do as her mother requested, but her mind was on the drama in the bedroom at the back of the house.

"He's not going to die, he's not going to die," she whispered aloud to reassure herself as she pumped water into the pots her mother brought to her.

"He's a strong young man," Deirdre said resolutely as she put sticks of wood into the stove and wiped her hands on her apron.

She had been preparing Josiah's lunch when the gunshots brought her downstairs, so she was still wearing an apron over her dress. She took a cloth from a drawer near the pump, wet it in the water flowing from the pump Abby was working furiously, and gently washed Kane's blood from Abby's cheek.

Abby threw herself into her mother's arms and began sobbing. Deirdre held her close, murmuring softly to her as she had when Abby was a child, trying to comfort her. She was still holding the distraught girl when Doctor Weaver appeared in the kitchen.

"Ah, good work, Deirdre," he said stoutly with a glance at the water heating on the stove. "I'll need lots of that. This boy has lost a lot of blood."

"How is he?" Deirdre asked.

"It's bad, I'm afraid. The bullet has lacerated his spleen, maybe other organs. I won't know for sure until I get him opened up. I'm going to need some assistance, Deirdre. Are you up to it?"

"Of course, Harold," she answered, using the old family friend's first name. "I'll do everything I can. How can I help?"

"You can sterilize my instruments and you can assist during the surgery. Bring a pan of hot water, some clean cloths and let's get started. This boy is in real trouble if I can't get the bullet out and get the bleeding stopped."

Doctor Weaver's matter of fact tone made Abby's heart freeze. She turned toward the doorway. "I can help, too."

Harold Weaver shook his head in surprise. "Abigail, you're too young. This is nothing a young woman should see."

"Nonsense, Harold," Deirdre said as she handed Abby an armful of clean towels she'd found by rummaging through Amos' cupboards. "If she's old enough to care about this man, she's old enough to be with him through this."

"Even if he dies?"

"Especially if he dies," Deirdre said with a determined glint in her eyes as she moved toward the bedroom, carrying a pan of steaming water.

***

Abby had never seen a bullet wound before. She stood at the foot of the bed where Kane lay. She clenched her fingers around the iron bedstead, fighting back the urge to vomit.

"You okay, dear?"

She nodded in answer to her mother's question, but she was far from okay. It was impossible to tear her gaze from the hideous hole in Kane's abdomen. It was the size of a half dollar, located about two inches above and slightly left of his navel. Blood came from it in a steady scarlet stream.

She forced her gaze from the wound and tried to focus on something else. His face was pale, his breathing shallow and labored, and there were no signs of consciousness yet. She supposed that was good when Doctor Weaver began taking sharp instruments from his bag and dropping them in the pan of hot water that her mother had delivered to the room.

"Don't look like we'll be needing any ether," the doctor observed. "He's still unconscious. Maybe he’ll stay that way for a bit."

Abby watched as the doctor took his stethoscope and listened intently to Kane's chest for a moment. He looked back at Deirdre for confirmation before continuing.

"Are you sure you want Abigail to stay?"

Deirdre glanced at her daughter's frightened, but determined face, then nodded at the doctor. "Yes, Harold. Abby stays."

"I don't think Josiah would want his daughter in the room with an undressed man."

"Josiah isn't here, Harold. Shall we proceed?"

Abby noted the irritation in her mother's voice. She hadn't even realized fully that someone had removed Kane's clothes and that his lower body was covered only by a sheet that was steadily becoming more scarlet than white. She couldn't think about anything now except that his life was trickling away while they debated the propriety of her presence during the surgery.

Harold Weaver was obviously not in favor of it, but he shook his head and began to operate. "Abigail, since you insist on being here for this, come over here and help me."

Abby moved around the bed on legs that felt so numb it was only automation that made them work at all. "W--What can I do?" she whispered.

The doctor pressed a handful of clean cloths into her shaking hands. "Keep the blood mopped up so I can see what I'm doing. And don't you pass out on me when I get started," he said gruffly.

"I won't."

"Amos, bring that lamp closer. These darn clouds are making the room too dark. I need better light."

Amos quickly lit a lamp and brought it to the bed. He held it aloft so Doctor Weaver could see more clearly, although his hands were shaking so badly it made the light flicker.

It took all Abby's strength not to faint when the doctor's sharp scalpel made the first incision into Kane's flesh. When he'd finished making the surgical incision, she thought the worst was over, but it wasn't. With Kane's belly opened up, the doctor put both hands into the open cavity and began searching for the bullet.

It seemed to take forever. She felt light headed and dizzy. Only by biting her lip so hard she tasted her own blood could she focus on what she was doing.

"He's a fine specimen," she heard Doctor Weaver say, halfway up to his elbows in Kane's belly. His brow was wrinkled in concentration as he methodically examined organ after organ for signs of damage. "Young, strong, excellent shape. You said this boy was in prison, Amos?"

Amos swallowed hard. He didn't trust his voice to speak, so he nodded.

"I guess that just goes to prove that hard work never hurt anybody. This boy has very little body fat, mostly muscle and sinew. Fine specimen of manhood, if I ever saw one."

"I'm sure he'll be pleased to hear that, Harold, should he wake up and find you up to your elbows in his guts," Amos croaked finally. "Have you found the bullet yet?"

"Of course, Amos." Doctor Weaver's voice sounded reproachful. "I found that right off. I'm checking now for internal damage. I don't want to have to open him up again. Gotta find all the problems now."

A few moments passed until he took his hands out of Kane's body. He dropped the remains of the bullet into a pan of water and began washing himself off. When he finished, he took up the scalpel once more and deftly removed Kane's lacerated spleen.

Abby fought back the urge to vomit when he took the organ from Kane's body and dropped it with a resounding splat into the pan of bloody water. It only took moments for him to sew up the site. He stood back a moment to survey his handiwork, then took a clean white towel and pressed it firmly over the area where he had just removed the organ.

After a few moments, he took the towel back and examined it closely.

"Good, no leaking. Looks like we're almost through here. I'll just sew him back together and we'll be done."

He was so cheerful, Abby looked at him aghast. Doctor Weaver was obviously a man who enjoyed his work and the bloodier, the better. She felt nauseous.

"Now what?" Amos asked when Doctor Weaver had finished closing the incision and was washing up.

"Now we wait."

"For what?"

"Signs of infection mostly," Doctor Weaver replied as he dried his hands on a towel. "He's lost a lot of blood, but he's young and strong. His body will reproduce that quickly. It's infection we have to worry about. A .45 slug can do nasty things to a man's body."

"No kidding," Amos grunted. He took the lamp down and put it on a table. His arms ached from holding it aloft for so long, but the tremors in his hands were from fear, not exertion.

"How long before we know?"

Abby looked at her mother's calm features when Deirdre asked the question. Her heart began pounding again at the expression on Doctor Weaver's broad face. She thought once the surgery was over and the bullet was removed that he would be out of danger. Obviously, that wasn't the case.

"Twenty four hours will tell the story. If he's still alive then, and if he doesn’t develop a fever, he'll make it."

"How long before he recovers, if he lives?" Amos asked.

The doctor folded the towel he'd used to dry his instruments. "It'll be a while. Several weeks."

"It won't be easy to keep him down that long."

"He won't be too frisky for quite a while. He'll be weak as a kitten. He's going to need a lot of care."

"That won't be a problem," Deirdre said with a faint smile at Abby's pale face. "I think the Prescott women can handle the nursing."

Disapproval was stamped on Doctor Weaver's face as he put the instruments back into his bag and snapped it closed. "Deirdre, I admire your fortitude, but Josiah is not going to stand for either of you to stand watch over this man. The whole town knows how he feels about the marshal and Abby."

"Josiah isn't well himself right now, Harold. And as for the marshal, this town owes him a debt of gratitude for what he did today. If he hadn't been here, those men would have taken every cent this town has. I don't think there will be any shortage of women willing to sit with him."

Amos forced a grin. "On the contrary, Harold, I think they'll probably be lined up for a turn. Kane has a uncanny ability to make friends."

"So I've noticed," the doctor said dryly as he moved toward the door. "I've got a baby on the way, folks, that requires my attention. Keep an eye on him. Keep him warm and dry and check the wound for signs of bleeding. Let me know immediately if he develops a fever. I'll check back on him as soon as I can."

When he'd gone, Amos walked into the living room and took a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't pour it into a glass.

Deirdre took the bottle from him and poured him a drink. Handing it to him with a weak smile, she watched him toss it back in one swallow. "I didn't realize you were so fond of him, Amos," she observed.

Amos' heavy brows arched in surprise at her statement. Then he smiled faintly. "Neither did I, Deirdre."

CHAPTER TWENTY-0NE

Thunder rattled the windows as lightning lit the room. Late in the afternoon the storm reappeared with a fury that at any other time would have frightened Abby terribly. However, the storm out side was of little consequence in comparison to the one in Abby's heart as she prayed and watched Kane fight for his life. Hours had passed since the shooting, but he had awakened only for a second once or twice before passing out again.

She glanced at her mother sleeping in the rocker near the window. Lightning revealed Deirdre's tired features relaxed in sleep. Abby's respect for her mother had grown tremendously that afternoon, both for her ability to assist Dr. Weaver, and for her adamant refusal to both the doctor and her father that Abby go home.

She smiled faintly at her mother as she slept, thankful that she had been allowed to see this inner person that seemed to understand her feelings suddenly. Or had her mother always understood? Abby wondered. Had it taken this moment of savageness to reveal what had been buried beneath a mask of grief since Micah's death? Had Kane's shooting brought her mother back to life again? It seemed so.

Kane groaned in his sleep. Abby swung around to him, concern wrinkling her brow. She quickly placed a damp cool towel on his forehead, murmuring to him, trying to ease both his pain and her own.

"Abby?" he asked hoarsely.

Abby nodded with a hopeful smile. "Yes, Kane. I'm right here. Shh---you must rest now."

"How're you doing, young man?"

Dr. Weaver's hearty voice boomed as he came into the room. He checked his pocket watch, mentally calculating the time between Kane's moments of lucidity. He moved to the head of the bed, in effect pushing Abby out of the way to take Kane's wrist and determine his pulse rate.

That done, he stuck the stethoscope in his ears, pulled the sheet down to reveal Kane's bandage covered torso, and listened intently for a few moments.

"Am I dead?"

Dr. Weaver laughed at the question. "No, young man. You're very much alive, as I fear you'll know all too quickly when your body starts coming out of shock and the pain hits you."

"Pain?" Kane's brows wrinkled in thought. There hadn't been any pain.

"I'll leave the laudanum for Miss Prescott and her mother to administer when it gets too bad. And believe me, it will."

"I don't remember--what happened?"

"You got yourself shot, that's what happened," Dr. Weaver informed him as he briskly pulled the sheet back up and tucked it around Kane's shoulders.

"Oh--yeah." Kane's expression slowly revealed that he was remembering the episode earlier in the day. "Frederick? Is he---?

"Frederick is fine," Abby said. "You saved his life. That horrible man was going to shoot him--but he shot you instead." Her voice was soft, almost trembling.

She took the towel from his forehead, dipped it back into the pan of cool water, wrung it out and applied it again. She was trying to smile bravely, but tears burned her eyes and she didn't trust her voice to speak again.

Another glance at Kane revealed that he was asleep once again. She turned worried eyes to Dr. Weaver who was putting his stethoscope back into his bag.

"How is he?"

Dr. Weaver surveyed her for a moment, then took a quick glance at his

patient. "A whole lot better than he'll be in a little while." Seeing her frightened expression, he patted her arm as he turned from the bed. "Right now, Abigail, his body is fighting to survive, and I must say, doing it well. When the trauma begins wearing off, the pain will set in. In a few hours, if he's still alive, he'll awake to the most excruciating pain imaginable."

He gave a dry chuckle. "He'll be wishing he was dead then. But, thankfully, that phase won't last more than a couple of days and with the help of laudanum, he'll make it through."

"What can I do?"

Harold Weaver studied her pale, determined features in silence for a moment while he stroked his chin. "Get some rest yourself. Wearing yourself out isn't going to help him any."

Abby nodded absently, her mind already dismissing the doctor's advice. "I will."

She returned to Kane's side, took the damp towel and wrung it out again in the cool water.

Dr. Weaver paused in the doorway before leaving the room. He observed her uneducated nursing techniques with a frown. Shaking his head, he picked up his coat on the way through Amos' living room. Knowing Josiah Prescott as he did, he couldn't help thinking the girl was wasting her time. Kane Darcy's chances of survival were getting better with every hour that passed without a fever developing, but for all the good it would do Abby, he might as well die and get it over with. Josiah was a stubborn old goat whose plans for Abigail did not include a small town marshal, especially one with a prison record and a reputation like this one. That design belonged to Frederick Gaston alone. Dr. Weaver doubted there was little that anyone could do that would make any difference to Josiah.

***

It was a long night. While Kane slept the exhausted slumber of shock and trauma, Abby's eyes never closed. She stayed by his bedside throughout that long, stormy night, never leaving him, always watchful for signs of trouble.

By morning when Dr. Weaver made his next visit, his prediction of the onset of pain was coming to pass. Shortly after sunup, after Deirdre went home to check on Josiah, Kane regained consciousness fully for the first time, and wished immediately that he hadn't.

"Hurting, are you, son?" Dr. Weaver asked with a scowl as he went about his examination.

"What do you think?"

Dr. Weaver chuckled at the sarcastic question as he took Kane's wrist to check his pulse. His face was pale, his teeth clenched against the pain roaring through his abdomen, his hands clamped in the sheet as he fought back the groan that was building in his throat.

"You don't have to try so hard to be brave, you know. You want to yell, go right ahead."

"Thanks," Kane said weakly, his voice lacking the sarcastic sting he intended.

Amos appeared at the foot of the bed, still looking concerned. One glance at him was proof enough that he hadn't slept much. In place of his usual immaculate grooming was a stubble of gray whiskers, rumpled clothes that looked as though he'd slept in them, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"How is he, Harold?" he asked the doctor who was still listening to Kane's chest through the stethoscope.

"Considering what he's been through…not too bad."

"Are you sure I'm not dead?"

Amos grinned in spite of himself. "You've been gut-shot, boy. Nothing worse. You're lucky Doc Weaver was here to patch you up. I've seen men last three--four days after being gut-shot before they died. Every last one of them was begging to die before it was over."

"Thanks for telling me that. I feel much better now," Kane said hoarsely. His eyes closed and he swallowed hard, then bit his lower lip when another blinding pain surged upward through him.

Amos patted his foot through the sheet in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Then he cleared his throat noisily. "Glad to hear it, boy."

"Dr. Weaver, can he have the laudanum now?" Abby asked.

Kane's eyes opened again at the sound of her voice. Having not seen her when he first awakened, he had thought she was gone.

The distinct flicker of pleasure that touched his eyes, made her heart swell. Relieved tears stung her eyes as she knew with absolute clarity that he was going to survive. She was as sure of that as if God himself had whispered it in her ear.

"I think that's a good idea, Abigail," Dr. Weaver was saying when she finally realized that he was speaking to her.

He watched carefully while she measured out the painkiller into a drinking glass like he'd shown her the night before, mixed it with water, then put one hand behind Kane's head to lift him up far enough to drink.

Kane made a face as the bitter tasting concoction slid down his throat. Abby eased his head back onto the pillow and smoothed the sheet around his shoulders. Her fingers brushed his cheek as she moved back. The contact with his stubble covered cheek was both rough and vaguely exciting.

She fussed with his pillow for a few moments, not realizing for some time that Dr, Weaver and Amos had both left the room. She sat down in the chair drawn up to the bedside and propped her chin on her hands while she watched him sleep.

In the morning light, he looked different than he had the night before. Even though he was still badly injured and fighting for his life, there was no mistaking the thrill of appreciation that ran through her while she stared at him.

His coal black hair was a startling contrast to the white pillow. His lashes made shadows on his cheeks. The muscles in his jaws clenched and unclenched with pain until the powerful drug began to take effect. She watched the sheet covering his body rise and fall with each breath and felt her own cheeks warm at the outrageous thoughts that popped into her mind.

I must be more tired than I thought. He's lying here, more dead than alive, and I'm sitting here staring at him like a vulture. And wouldn't he love knowing that?

She rubbed at her tired eyes as he stirred restlessly. Even though the laudanum was easing his pain, it was still strong enough to make it impossible for him to rest. She looked about the room in search of some way to soothe him. Then her gaze fell on the worn Bible on the night table. She picked it up and began reading aloud, softly but clearly.

The sound of her voice must have reached him somehow because he ceased moving and lay still, drifting into a deeper, more peaceful sleep. She glanced at him occasionally to make sure he was still breathing, and continued to read until the morning sun began pouring into the windows.

***

It was mid-morning when Kane awoke again. The bright sunshine hurt his eyes and made him grimace as he put one hand over his face to shield himself from the glare. The act of bringing one arm up level with his head brought about a searing pain that almost took his breath.

Gritting his teeth, he looked longingly at the laudanum bottle on the night table. Close by but too far to do him any good. Damn, if I'm not careful I'll turn into a drug addict before this is over, he thought.

The slightest movement was excruciating but lying perfectly still was impossible. The best he could manage was to move his head very slowly but even that made him nauseous.

He looked around the room but Abby was gone. He was disappointed but that soon changed to horror when he realized he was going to be sick. It was either lie where he was and puke on himself, or make the supreme sacrifice and get his head over the edge of the bed.

Knowing that vomiting was surely going to tear him in half, he managed to crawl to the edge of the bed and hang his head over the side. Just as he started retching, he saw a hand grab the pan from the night table and stick it under his face. Then he felt a strong arm surround his shoulders and support his head.

"Oh, God!" he moaned between heaves. He didn't know which was worse, the nausea or the god-awful pain that was tearing him apart. He broke out in a cold sick sweat but he couldn't stop retching.

Just as he thought he was going to pass out, the nausea subsided. He lay on his right side, clutching his belly with both hands while sweat poured off him. He couldn't breathe for the pain, couldn't speak because his throat felt scalded, couldn't even thank his benefactor for his assistance.

"No more laudanum for you, boy," came Amos' shaky voice from somewhere above him. "At least not on a empty stomach."

A moment later he felt a cool towel touch his face, wiping away the sweat and bringing back a semblance of consciousness. He wanted to faint, anything to relieve the pain.

"Let me do that, Amos."

He faintly recognized Deirdre's confident voice from the shadows creeping upon him, but he couldn't focus well enough to see her. Then he felt her gentle touch when she took the wet towel from Amos and bathed his face with it again.

"There, is that better?"

He tried to nod, but could only manage a moan instead. She put the towel aside for a moment and began peeling the sheet down so she could inspect the bandage. He refused to let go of it, holding on with what little strength he had.

"Mr. Darcy, let go. I must see if the wound has broken open." Her voice was soft, yet insistent.

Kane shook his head stubbornly, then instantly regretted it when a wave of dizziness attacked him. "No…naked…"

"Mr. Darcy, I assure you that I'm only interested in your wound. Please let me see if you're bleeding."

"No…"

"Stubborn little peckerwood, isn't he?" Amos asked with a grin. "Half the women in this town have seen him naked and he decides to have a sudden fit of modesty."

Amusement touched Deirdre's features as she exchanged glances with Amos. "Ah, but that was his choice, Amos. Mr. Darcy, I fear, is a man who wants to be in control of those things. Being out of control is very unsettling to him. Isn't that right, Mr. Darcy?"

Kane could barely nod, not really sure of what she'd said but too sick at the moment to argue about it.

"Abby…"

"Abby has gone home to change and freshen up, Mr. Darcy. She isn't here."

Kane's grip on the sheet relaxed, allowing Deirdre to pull it down far enough to inspect the bandage. He felt her gentle fingers explore the bandage momentarily.

"Good, he's not bleeding," he heard her say from somewhere in the fog drifting all around him. "Thank God, I was sure that all that retching would have torn it open."

He was feeling pleasantly hazy as unconsciousness crept upon him again, but he welcomed the respite from both the almost unbearable pain and the lingering nausea.

"We’ve got to get some broth into him," Deirdre continued briskly. She tucked the sheet back around his shoulders and gave him a comforting pat. "He needs the laudanum and since it obviously is going to make him very ill, the best we can hope for is that getting something into his stomach will offset those effects."

"Funny, isn't it?" Amos said thoughtfully while he studied Kane's body twitch with pain even in his sleep. "He wants the one girl he can't have."

Deirdre exchanged a troubled glance with him. "There's nothing funny about it, Amos. There's nothing amusing about two people having their hearts broken."

Amos nodded in agreement, then cleared his throat. "I know that, Deirdre. The worst thing about it is that Abby is the first girl he's ever really cared about in his whole life. The others…the girls at the saloon…all the others like them…mean nothing to him, never have. But Abby…he took one look at her and…."

"It's the same with Abby," Deirdre murmured. "But Josiah will never allow it. It would be better for both of them if he left Cimarron as soon as he recovers."

"He could have been killed yesterday, Deirdre, and it would have been my fault. I forced him into this job, forced him to take on responsibilities he wasn't ready for. I had no right."

"You did what you thought was best, Amos." She moved to his side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, suddenly aware that Amos was showing his age. "And he's done an admirable job of it."

Amos nodded as he rubbed one hand over his face. "I thought for awhile I'd have to carve that on his tombstone. No, this was a mistake, Deirdre. I should've left well enough alone. Now, he's lying there more dead than alive. God, what a mess I've made of things."

"Let him go, Amos. When he recovers enough to travel, let him go."

Amos nodded. He rubbed at his eyes again for a moment, then visibly gained strength. He looked at her with a faint smile on his weathered face. "You're right, Deirdre. Getting him out this town and away from Abby is probably the best thing I can do for either of them."

"Sadly, it won't change her feelings for him. But, with time, and enough space, she'll get over him and go on with her life."

"Will she, Deirdre? Will he?"

Her clear blue gaze locked with his for a moment before she forced a smile. She patted him on the back as she moved past him. She picked up the pan at the edge of the bed, and walked toward the open doorway, where she paused briefly to look back at him.

"Yes, Amos, they both will. We did, didn't we?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Luckily Josiah had left the house before Abby returned. She breathed a deep sigh of relief when she discovered the house was empty, but she also knew that it was only a matter of time until she would have to face her father's wrath. But it wouldn't be now.

She took only enough time to wash off the night's fatigue, change clothes, and brush her teeth and hair before hurrying back to Amos' to check on her patient. On the way she was stopped a dozen times by concerned citizens inquiring about Kane's condition and offering assistance, should it be needed.

She was feeling good about the townspeople when she reached the house. For a group of people whose first inclination had been to scorn their new marshal, his courage and daring under fire had won not only their trust, but their gratitude. It made her proud to live here.

Upon arriving, she discovered that her mother had gone and Amos was on his way out.

"Glad you made it back, Abigail," he said as he pulled on his coat. "I've got business that can't wait and I didn't want to leave Kane alone."

"I'm here now, Judge Connors, so you just run along and do whatever you need to. I'll sit with him."

Amos' bushy brows arched at the authoritative tone in her voice. She had matured over the past twenty-four hours, he decided, but he didn't have time at the moment to dwell on it further.

He patted her arm as he headed for the door. "Good, with Kane laid up, I've got to get someone here to take over until he recovers. I must get a telegram off to the Texas Rangers Headquarters before more time passes. Once the word gets around that Cimarron's marshal is out of action, this town will be crawling with vermin again."

He hurried out of the house and down the street toward the telegraph office, leaving Abby alone. She took a quick glance to make sure Kane was sleeping, then she began straightening up the room. Idle hands are the devil's workshop, she thought while she pulled the curtains back further to allow the mid-day sunshine to brighten the room.

A half hour later she was plumping the cushions on Judge Connor's sofa when the front door swung open and Frederick strode inside. One look at his face put her on instant guard. He had that determined expression that made the hair on the back of her neck rise as he crossed the room toward her.

"I knew I'd find you here!"

"Please keep your voice down, Frederick. Mr. Darcy is asleep."

"I don't give a damn! I want to talk to you."

"Then talk, Frederick. Don't shout. I can hear you perfectly fine without raising your voice."

The coolness in her tone made no impression on Frederick. He whipped off his hat and glared at her. "The whole town is talking about you. Don't you even care?"

"That depends on what they're saying."

Frederick gave a disbelieving snort at her nonchalant attitude. "They're saying that you spent the night here last night...holding his hand, no doubt."

Abby's eyes flashed when she finally turned to give him her full attention. It was obvious he was looking for a fight. She'd seen that expression on his face often enough to know that. "Yes, I did spend the night here last night. So did my mother, and so did Judge Connors and so did Dr. Weaver for a good portion of the night.. I was not...as you put it...holding his hand. I was making certain he was as comfortable as possible. Must I remind you, Frederick, that the bullet Dr. Weaver dug out of him yesterday was intended for you?"

"I don't need to be reminded of anything," Frederick snapped. "He was doing his job, what he's getting paid to do. Nothing more. Protecting the citizens of this town is his job, after all."

"Getting himself killed isn't! I should think you'd be a little more grateful, Frederick, in view of the fact that if he hadn't killed that bank robber, you'd most likely be dead now yourself."

"Grateful? You think I should be grateful to him for anything? May I remind you, Abby, that since the moment that man rode into this town, he's done everything in his power to embarrass me?"

"And just how has he done that?"

She turned to face him, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing. Two bright points of color had arisen in her cheeks at his audacity but her indignation was lost on Frederick, who only saw how beautiful she was when she was aroused. It was arousing to him as well.

"He has made his designs on you as plain as the nose on your face. Everybody in town knows it. You seem to be the only one who doesn't see it."

"It's a free country, isn't it?"

Frederick's mouth dropped open at her angry statement. He backed up a step, still staring at her in disbelief. "Abigail Prescott! Why, I almost believe you're enjoying his attention!"

"Frederick, you don't know what the dickens you're talking about." Her voice was calmer now, almost resigned as she looked up at him wearily. "There is absolutely nothing between Mr. Darcy and myself, and there isn't going to be. What must I say to convince you of that?"

"Nothing between you? If there's nothing between you, then why did he spend a hundred dollars to buy your boxed dinner the other night?"

"To show you he could." At the startled expression on his face, she sighed heavily as she sat down on the sofa. "Nobody likes to be made to feel inferior, Frederick. And your proprietary actions toward me, accompanied by your arrogance toward him...well...he felt he had to do something."

"If he feels inferior to me, it's because he is."

"Frederick, you are such an ass sometimes!"

"Are you saying that you think he's my equal?

"In what respect, Frederick? Financially, of course not. Educationally, no. Culturally, no. He has not been privy to the advantages you have. But unlike you, Frederick, he doesn't have a mean spirited bone in his body."

"You'd know about that, I suppose," Frederick snapped, stung by her insinuation. "You were present when Dr. Weaver operated on him, weren't you? I'm sure you know all about him by now."

"I know that he's missing a body organ today because of you," she said in a soft, meaningful tone as she stared right back at him without blinking. "I know that he lost a gallon of blood yesterday. I know that he's spent the past twenty-four hours in the worst kind of agony because of you. And I also know that he's the most courageous man I've ever known. That's what I know about him, Frederick."

Frederick's handsome face went pale at her statement, then turned blood red again at her soft-spoken observations. "I'm going to speak to my father! As soon as that man is able to ride, I intend to make certain he leaves this town!"

"I'm sure he feels the same way, Frederick," she replied wearily. "Why would anyone in their right mind want to stay in a place where they're treated so shabbily?"

"He's been treated shabbily? What about me? What about the way he made me look a fool the other night? How did it look to our friends and neighbors when a man with his past outbid me for my girl's dinner, and then disappeared with her?"

"What are you accusing me of, Frederick?" she demanded. "Why don't you just spit it out? Do you think I've done something improper with Mr. Darcy? Well, do you?"

"No, Abby, of course not." Frederick changed tactics by lowering his voice and trying to soothe her. It was obvious the bullying approach wasn't working. "But everyone knows what kind of person he is, what kind of women he spends his time with. I don't want you associated with that kind of behavior, not even for an instant."

"You needn't worry, Frederick," she said. Her gaze was still pinned on his, but her voice had taken on a strained tone. "Mr. Darcy made it very clear that he is not in the market for anyone like me. So you may rest assured that you do not have to compete with him for my affection."

Frederick began to smile then. The flicker of pain that flashed through her eyes was totally lost on him. He put one arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm glad, Abby. I don't want people talking about you. I couldn't bear for anyone to think you were associated with that man in any fashion other than common human compassion. Which is what this nursing thing is all about, isn't it?"

"Of course, Frederick," she said, wishing it was the complete truth, yet knowing it wasn't. "He saved your life yesterday and almost got himself killed in the process. He has no family to look after him so mother and I are doing it."

Frederick walked back to the door where he turned to flash her one of his customary smiles. "That's what I love about you, Abby, your compassion for stray cats and hungry lost critters. You've got a heart as big as this town."

And every last particle of it is breaking, she thought as she forced a weak smile at his parting wave.

***

It took all of Abby's strength to get a half-cup of broth down Kane's throat. She learned very quickly that a wounded man was not the best company. When Frederick left, she went to the kitchen and heated a cup of chicken soup, which she carried into the bedroom with a fake smile pasted on her face.

If he heard any of her conversation with Frederick, he didn't show it. But she doubted if he could think about anything except how bad he felt. His face was very pale and the slightest movement made beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. When she plumped his pillow and helped him sit up straighter so he could sip at the broth, she thought for a moment he was going to faint dead away. She could even hear his teeth grinding when he clenched them with the effort of sitting up.

"You'll feel better when you get some of this soup inside you," she assured him brightly.

The expression he shot her was clearer than the night before. A glance at the laudanum bottle revealed that he had not been taking much of it, which undoubtedly accounted for the clear eyed way he looked at her when she took a seat beside the bed and offered him the cup of broth.

"I doubt it," he grunted at her suggestion, but sipped at the hot broth when she held the cup to his lips. A couple of swallows were all he had the strength to drink before indicating he didn't want anymore.

Abby set the cup down, wet a towel in cool water, and bathed the sick sweat off his face. He lay very still against the pillows, his eyes closed, his jaws clenched, his hands twisted in the sheet, swallowing very hard to keep the broth down. Her touch was very gentle as she applied the cool towel to his throat and neck.

"Are you okay?" she asked, watching his throat work furiously.

He nodded, then slowly opened his eyes. "Dandy, just dandy."

"Then drink some more broth."

"No, I don't want it."

"If you expect to regain your strength, you have to get something into you."

"I've had something in me, thank you. A .45 caliber slug."

Abby had to smile at his sarcastic remark. She moved the towel over his face again, noting the day's growth of beard that darkened his cheeks. "I know. I was here when Dr. Weaver took it out."

Kane opened one eye at that remark, staring at her suspiciously. "You were here? When?"

"When Dr. Weaver operated on you," she replied matter of factly. "I even assisted."

"What did you do?"

"I kept the blood wiped away so he could see what he was doing. Without me, he might have removed some body part you really needed."

She smiled at the startled expression that came to his face. She could have sworn that he was blushing, but he was so pale it would have been nearly impossible. "Don't look so worried. He only removed your spleen. Everything else is right where it's supposed to be."

The sigh of relief he let out made her want to giggle in spite of herself. "You men are a strange breed. You nearly died and the only thing you're worried about is whether or not all your male components are still in place."

"I don't expect you to understand," he said, avoiding her amused gaze.

"Oh, but I do understand. For some stupid reason, you seem to gage your manhood by sexual prowess. It's like the boys in school looking at each other, trying to decide who's got the biggest one. As if it matters."

"Miss Prescott! I'm shocked at you!" he said, trying to grin and be nonchalant at the same time. "You haven't been peeking while I was unconscious, have you?"

Abby's cheeks flamed as she wrung out the towel again and pressed it to his forehead. "Of course not! And even if I did, I've never seen one before so how could I make a logical comparison?"

"Good point. Now tell me, how do you know the boys you went to school with made those comparisons?"

"Betsy and I heard them talking about it. They also had peeing contests. I don't suppose you've ever done that."

Kane grinned with some of his normal good humor. He still hurt like hell, but Abby's bright-eyed smile and gentle touch made it easier to bear somehow.

"Who me? I was only the fourth grade champion."

"Only the fourth grade? What happened after that?"

He laid back against the pillows with his eyes closed, still smiling. "Some of the other boys grew up faster than I did. It wasn't much of a contest there for a few years."

Abby's soft laughter caused him to open one eye to look at her. She was sitting on the cane-backed chair drawn up to the bed, her hands folded in her lap while she watched him. Her smile was warm, her eyes soft, her expression curious. With the afternoon sun casting shadows in the room, she looked almost angelic as it reflected off her hair.

"And now?" she asked curiously, amazed that she could look him straight in the eye while asking such a question.

He shrugged, then grimaced at the pain the movement brought on. "I've got nothing to be ashamed of, I guess."

"When did you come to this remarkable conclusion?" she asked while fingering the hem of the sheet covering him.

His arms were on top of the sheet, his hands folded across his chest now. The sheet was tucked beneath his chin, protecting him from her curious gaze, but her cheeks pinkened when she remembered the sight of his bare torso while Dr. Weaver operated on him. At the time she'd been too terrified to appreciate the view, but now with him awake, lucid, and improving, she couldn't help wishing for another glimpse, without him knowing, of course.

"About a week past my fourteen birthday," he replied, watching her for a reaction.

The stain in her cheeks deepened a shade but she didn't look away. Instead, she sat with that brilliant blue gaze directly focused on him.

"My mother had just died and I didn't have anybody else." His voice was soft, almost strained as he brought forth the memory. "One of the women where she worked wasn't much older than I was. Not in years anyway, but a lot older in other ways. Anyway, she wanted to comfort me…and she did…in the only way she knew how."

"Tell me about your mother."

Kane swallowed and rested for a moment before he went on. He kept his eyes closed and his head back against the pillow. "She was beautiful, always laughing. She had the most musical laugh. She raised me the best way she could, given the circumstances. I always had enough to eat and good clothes and she made sure I got an education, although I learned how to fight better than I learned grammar or geography."

"It couldn't have been easy for her."

"It wasn't. But she taught me early on that you do what you have do and you don't whine about it. If life deals you a tough hand, you play it."

"How did she die?"

"Consumption. She had it for a couple of years before I even knew it. She only told me when it got so bad she couldn't hide it anymore."

The matter of fact tone of his voice did not fool Abby. She knew he was not nearly as nonchalant as he tried to appear. If anything, his determined upbeat tone spoke volumes.

"What did you do then?"

"I stole a horse from the livery stable, rolled a drunk in an alley, and lit out. Never looked back."

"And you've been running ever since."

His eyes opened at her softly spoken remark. His brows arched in momentary surprise but he didn't have the strength to argue the point with her. "If that's how you see it."

"You don't?"

"No, I see it as surviving the best way I could."

He didn't speak again for several moments. Abby thought he had gone back to sleep and got up, intending to take the broth back to the kitchen to reheat when he stirred again.

"Abby?"

"Yes?" she said, turning back to the bed.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"I haven't done anything," she said curiously.

"Yes, you have. You don't look down your nose at me like you think you're better than me, like some other people I could mention."

"You heard Frederick earlier, didn't you?"

He grinned as he opened his eyes briefly. "It was hard not to, the way he came busting in here. Now, I want you to do something for me."

"Of course," Abby said eagerly. She came back to his side while she waited for his request.

"I want you to go home and stay there."

"But…"

"Don't come back here."

"But why not?" she cried. "I can help…."

"You've already helped more than you know. But you've got to stop it before the whole town starts talking."

"I don't…."

"I care. I don't want people talking about you because of me. Now, pick up your things and go on home."

When she didn't speak for several seconds, he opened his eyes and looked straight at her with more animation that she'd seen in him for nearly twenty-four hours. "Go on, damn it! Go home! Leave me alone. I mean it!"

Her eyes slowly filled with tears but she made no effort to wipe them away. Instead, she just stared at him silently while they rolled down her cheeks. While he glared at her, she picked up his hand, pressed it to her lips, then laid it back on the bed.

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The next week passed slowly. Kane regained his strength a little more each day, but it still took every ounce of determination he possessed to get out of bed and walk across the bedroom and back. He'd never been laid up like this before. Not being a patient man, he was anxious to get back on his feet.

He had not seen Abby since the day he'd asked her to leave. Deirdre still came every day to check on him and urge him to eat, bringing him tempting dishes that he politely nibbled at, but his appetite was as weak as his body.

Deirdre did not mention Abby, nor did he speak of her. Many times he was tempted to ask about her, but he fought back the temptation. He'd asked her to stay away, so it would be foolish to indicate that he thought about her. He prided himself on being a practical man, and thinking about Abby was not practical.

Late one afternoon a week and a half after the shooting, Deirdre came to his doorway before leaving for the day to tell him he had a visitor.

"Mr. Darcy, there's a young man here to see you. He says he's a friend of yours. I'll just show him in and be off."

"Thanks, Mrs. Prescott," Kane told her, curious to see who this visitor was. He propped himself up higher on the pillows and waited until the man walked into the room moments after Deirdre closed the front door behind her.

"Well, well, if I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it," the visitor drawled as he leaned against the doorjamb with a grin "I swear, Kane, you'd do anything to get out of work, now wouldn't you?"

"Wes? Is that you?"

Kane's voice was full of surprise as he stared at the man grinning at him from the doorway.

"It's me, in the flesh." Wes Carlin strolled into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. He looked around the room, then back to Kane's startled expression.

"When did you get out?"

Wes shrugged, still grinning. "About a month ago. The boys back in Yuma send their regards."

"I'll bet."

Wes Carlin was in his late twenties, tall, blonde, with the coldest eyes Kane had ever seen. Even when he was smiling, those eyes were cold as ice. They never warmed no matter how good a mood Wes might be in.

"I heard you were the law here and thought I'd drop in and see how you're doing. Looks like you've run into some trouble," he said, nodding toward the bandage around Kane's middle.

"A little. Nothing I couldn't handle." Kane's eyes narrowed at the man's friendly manner. "What's on your mind, Wes?"

"Can't a fellow come visit an old friend? Do I have to have a reason?"

"Yeah, you do. You and I aren't exactly bosom buddies. Why did you ride nearly six hundred miles to see me?"

Wes shrugged as he leaned forward to grip the iron bed rail. "It's no secret that Judge Connors sprung you so you could come out here and be his indentured servant. I figured you must be getting real tired of that by now. And after taking a piece of lead in the performance of his duty, I'm betting you are."

"What's your point?" Kane grunted. He didn't like the way Wes was staring at him. Hell, he didn't like Wes.

"I've got a plan, thought you might be interested."

"What kind of plan?"

"I hear that bank over there is full of money. Couple of rich ranchers in the area got quite a war going. I hear they're stockpiling their ready cash in the bank for safe keeping until the trouble is settled."

"You hear a lot for a man behind bars."

Wes grinned, not taking offense at Kane's sarcastic tone. "Always have. You know me, Kane, always have a plan. What do you say?"

"About what?"

"Helping me rob the bank."

Even though he suspected what was coming, hearing Wes put it into words was still somewhat of a shock. "Haven't you heard, Wes? I'm a US Marshal. Robbing banks doesn't go with that description."

Wes laughed as he straightened up and hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt. He wore it low and tied down like a man who knew how to use it well. He did. As well as any man Kane had ever known.

"You're Amos Connors lap dog on a leash. That badge he pinned on you was for his good, not yours. It's all for show, Kane, so he can look good to the people in this town. Hell, he ain't the one who's lying there after getting shot up, is he? You are. You took the slug and he's strutting around telling these good folks how he's brought law and order to town."

Kane didn't reply. He wanted to deny Wes' statements, but couldn't. He'd heard all the compliments Amos was getting from the townspeople on bringing safety back to their streets. Hearing it put into words made it seem all too clear.

"What makes you think we could pull it off?"

"You've got yourself a real sweet set-up here, Kane. The old man trusts you, for God's sake. He put a gun on your hip and a badge on your chest. He'd never suspect you of something like robbing the bank."

"I think you're underestimating him, Wes. Judge Connors is one sharp son-of-a-bitch."

"Not where you're concerned," Wes replied confidently. "You can walk right into that bank, clean it out, and ride off without anybody getting hurt. If me and the boys go in shooting, somebody's likely to get killed. I know you wouldn't want that."

He waved off Kane's reply. "I'm not expecting an answer right away. You think about it for a few days. You're not able to do anything yet anyway but I'm willing to wait until you are. No hurry, the money's not going anywhere."

"What if I decide I don't want any part of it?"

Wes shrugged. "No difference. I'll still do it, just take the chance of having to kill a few of these good citizens is all. You think about it, Kane, and while you're at it, think about being at the judge's beck and call. He's got his thumb on you so's you can't take a crap without his approval. I know you, Kane, and I know that's not setting well."

He grinned again as he moved toward the doorway. Pausing for a moment to look back, he pointed his index finger at Kane like a pistol barrel and winked. "Think it over, Kane. I'll be around town when you make up your mind."

When the front door closed behind him, Kane laid back against the pillows with a cold sweat breaking out all over him. He closed his eyes for a moment, then rubbed his hands over his face. "Shit!" he said aloud. "What the hell do I do now?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kane was unable to stay in bed after Wes Carlin's unsettling visit. He got up, struggled into his trousers, and paced the bedroom rug a couple of times, gritting his teeth from the pain in his gut, but unwilling to give in to it.

The July sun poured into the room through the open window, filling the room with heat and humidity. Thirsty, he limped through the house to the kitchen. Using the indoor pump handle almost caused him to change his mind about a drink of water, but he was too jittery to be still, so he held one hand over the bandage while he worked the pump until a stream of water gushed out.

After a cool drink, he wandered back through the house, pausing to glance at the impressive awards Judge Connors had hanging on the living room walls. He went from one to the next reading aloud.

"Presented to Judge Amos Connors for distinction in duty…by the Texas Supreme Court," he read off one, then moved on to the next. "Awarded to Judge Amos Canaan Connors for outstanding service to the people of Texas," it read and was signed by the governor.

"Guess that's what you get when you hang people for a living," he said with a grimace. "Amos Canaan Connors...God, what a name! With a name like that, he'll probably run for governor himself one of these days."

He chuckled out loud at the thought of Amos sitting in the governor's mansion in Austin. The pain that shot through him with the effort, made him grab his belly again but it was worth it to picture Amos presiding over the Texas Senate.

He thought about Wes' offer again as he continued to examine Amos' souvenirs that covered one whole end wall of the living room. "Like it or not, ole Wes has a couple of good points," he said to Amos' photo taken with the governor at the award ceremony. "You've got your thumb on my throat and there's no way in hell you're going to let go. Hell, I got no guarantee that you'll live up to our agreement and grant me a pardon when this is over. You could decide at any time to send my ass back to Yuma...agreement null and void…prisoner number 801274…I don't like the sound of that, Your Honor. I don't like the sound of it at all."

He had approached the door to Amos' bedroom by now. The door was open so he stuck his head in, curious about Amos' private quarters. He saw a large four poster bed carved of antique mahogany, covered with a tasteful spread with a double wedding ring design. A matching chest of drawers stood against the opposite wall and a large matching dresser with a massive oval mirror dominated another wall.

"Impressive, Your Honor," Kane said aloud as he ventured further into the room. "Looks like hanging people pays pretty good. Maybe I ought to bring that to Wes' attention."

He moved into the room to take a quick peek into Amos' closet where a half dozen tailored suits hung, along with starched white shirts, and beneath them on the floor were several pair of polished shoes.

He closed the closet door and turned back toward the doorway, intending to go back to the room he'd been occupying for the past week and a half. Something caught his eye as he turned. An antique silver frame sat in a prominent position on top of the dresser, obviously in a station of importance.

Kane's eyes widened at the sight of the photograph. He limped across the room and picked it up, staring at the handwritten inscription along the bottom edge. He shut his eyes tightly, then opened them again and reread the inscription to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. For a moment, he thought he was in the middle of a macabre nightmare, but it was worse than that. It was all too real.

"Kane! Where are you, boy?" came Amos' booming voice as he entered the front door and closed it behind him.

A moment later he stepped into the room where Kane still stood staring at the picture in the silver frame. "What are you doing in here?" he asked, trying to speak but having difficulty finding his voice.

Kane turned slowly from the dresser with the picture in his hand. His eyes had narrowed to glittering slits of ebony fire. The pain in his belly had been replaced by one much stronger. It was a pain in his chest that threatened to cut off his breath and choke him to death.

"What the hell is my mother's picture doing on your dresser?"

His voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like him at all. He took a step nearer Amos with the picture thrust toward him. "And don't tell me it's the one from my room at the hotel. Oh, the picture is the same one...but mine's not personally signed 'To Canaan, All my love always…Sarah.' You want to explain that, Your Honor?"

Amos let out a pent-up breath as he walked across the room and took the picture. He turned away to put the frame on the chest of drawers behind him, then turned back to face Kane and squared his shoulders.

"You've already drawn the conclusion, boy."

"I want to hear you say it, you son-of-a-bitch!"

For a long moment Amos did not speak. He stood very still staring back into Kane's furious eyes. Eyes so much like the ones in the photograph he'd taken from Kane only seconds before.

"All right, Kane. I'll say it. I'm your father."

Even though he'd known it from the moment he saw the picture, Kane felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He almost reeled from the impact of the truth. He had to place one hand on the dresser top to steady himself, but his eyes never left Amos' face.

"How...how long have you known? Did you know when you hauled me up before your court and sentenced me to prison? Did you know when they slammed those bars shut in my face in Yuma?"

"Yes," Amos said simply. "It was the only way I could think of to keep an eye on you until I could figure a way to tell you."

"Sending me to prison was one hell of a way to keep an eye on me!"

Amos walked back into the living room, going to the liquor cabinet and pouring two large glasses of whiskey. He drank from one and indicated the other was for Kane.

Kane's lips curled back his teeth in a snarl that made Amos' knees weak but he didn't show it. He stared back at Kane with determination.

"You think I'm going to drink with you? You son-of-a-bitch!"

"You're going to listen to me, Kane."

"The hell I am!"

"You're going to listen. You've wondered about your father for your whole life, and now, by God, you're going to hear why he wasn't around when you were growing up."

"I don't give a damn! I know that you abandoned my mother and me! I know that she spent the remainder of her life as a whore because of you! I know that she's dead because of you!"

Kane headed for the other bedroom, intending to get the rest of his clothes on and get out, but Amos' firm voice made him halt halfway across the living room.

"For the first fourteen years of your life, I never knew you existed. I spent the next sixteen trying to find you."

Kane didn't move or look at him, but stood in the center of the living room with his back to Amos, his shoulders stiff with anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"You think I'm going to believe that you didn't know my mother was pregnant?"

"I met your mother the summer before my last year of law school." Amos' voice was calm and clear. His eyes had warmed with the memories he was recalling. "I was home for the summer. She had been hired as a maid for my family. She was so beautiful…so full of life. When she laughed, it was like music….I was already engaged to someone else, but I took one look at her and couldn't help falling in love with her."

"You had a real funny way of showing it."

Amos ignored Kane's furious statement. He knew if he didn't get it out now, he might never have another chance.

"When I had to go back to school that fall, I gave her a ring, made her promise to wait for me. I wrote to her…never got an answer. I got scared and went home on spring break to find out what was wrong, but she was gone. I tried everything to find her but she had left town without telling anyone where she was going. I never saw her again."

"I don't believe you!"

"No, I don't suppose you do, but it's the truth, boy. I knew nothing about you until about six weeks after your mother died. One of her friends sent me a letter she'd written to me. In it, she explained that when I left for college that fall she discovered she was pregnant with my child. She wrote to tell me, only my father intercepted the letter. He confronted her, threatened her. Her family was poor, she had no one to go to for help so she had no choice but to take the money he gave her and disappear. She did it to protect you."

"Protect me!" Kane swung around to face him. "That was real convenient for you, wasn't it? She was left with a baby to raise on her own and you graduated from college and became some big shit judge! She spent the rest of her life on her back so I could eat, and you married some rich shit's daughter!"

"I never married. I broke up with the girl I was engaged to after I met your mother. I've never loved anyone else since."

Kane's snort of disbelief echoed through the room. His eyes glittered like diamonds in the shadows creeping in from the window now. "Yeah, I bet!"

"When I got her letter, I started trying to find you. But you had already left town by then. For the next sixteen years, every time I got a clue as to where you were, you'd be gone by the time I could follow it up. It wasn't until last fall when you got into trouble in Mesa, that I was able to finally catch up with you."

"Lucky thing I got arrested, huh? Otherwise, I would never have known that you're my very own dear old dad!"

Amos flinched at the scorn in Kane's voice, but he covered it well. He sipped from the glass of whiskey again, meeting Kane's furious gaze over the rim. "I pulled every string I knew of, called in every favor, to get assigned to your trial. I even asked the governor to send me to Mesa to sit on your case. He thought I was crazy. Maybe I was."

"And you were so impressed by your first look at me that you sentenced me to prison!"

"Your mother's letter said your name was Kane Darcy, Kane after me, and Darcy after her folks. But even if I'd not known your name, I'd have known you the second you walked into the courtroom."

His voice softened momentarily and he cleared his throat before he could continue. "You look so much like her. Her eyes, her hair, even her smile. There was no doubt after that.

"I couldn't let you get away again. I didn't know how else to hold onto you. I wanted to tell you then...but I was…I decided that it would be better if we got to know each other first...develop a relationship of some kind. So I sentenced you to prison until I could get something set up to make that happen."

"You sent me to prison! You watched me loaded into that prison wagon and hauled off like a animal, and you've got the gall to stand there and tell me if was for my own good? "

"The hardest thing I've ever done was watch you taken away in chains, but I didn't know what else to do. I was afraid I'd lose you forever if I let you out of my sight again."

Amos' voice was strained, his expression hopeful as he waited for Kane's response.

"You can't lose what you never had," Kane snapped. He advanced a few steps toward Amos, his eyes suddenly bright with what Amos suspected were tears. "You never had a son, and I never had a father. Let's just leave it at that."

"No! I won't leave it at that!

"You have no choice, Your Honor! You can force me to do this job, but you can't force me to…Who the hell do you think you are?" His voice was rising as he moved closer. His hands were clenched into fists and his breath was coming in gulps from the strain. "You want to be my daddy now? Where the hell were you when I was a kid? When other kids wouldn't play with me or invite me to their birthday parties because my mother was a whore? Where were you when I had to stay in the closet and be quiet because she was working? Where were you when she died in my arms? I was fourteen, for God's sake! She was all I had! When she died, I had nobody! I stole, I ate out of garbage cans, I sold myself to a rich old lady when I was barely fifteen because I was too hungry and too cold to walk away from a hot meal and a warm bed."

Tears had filled Amos' eyes during Kane's impassioned response. For the first time he saw behind the wall Kane had built around himself and what he saw tore his heart out. He reached out to touch him, but Kane recoiled as though he'd been snake bitten.

He shoved Amos' hand aside. He wiped one hand across his face before lifting his head in a sneer so cold it overshadowed the July heat that filled the house.

"I needed a father then...I don't need one now. And I sure as hell don't need you!"

"Kane, please…"

"You stay the hell away from me, old man."

He whirled around, went into the bedroom, and emerged moments later fully dressed. As he stalked across the living room toward the front door, he reached up and ripped the badge off his vest. Tossing it on the floor at Amos' feet, he paused before yanking the door open to snarl, "You take that job, and go to hell! And if you think you can send me back to Yuma, think again! You'll have to kill me…but then...that's nothing new for you, is it? You killed my mother, only it took her fifteen years to die! I won't go down that easy!"

Without giving Amos a chance to speak, he slammed the door shut behind him and limped up the street toward the hotel.

Amos watched him through the window until he disappeared from sight around the corner of the house. Then he poured himself another glass of whiskey and carried both the glass and the bottle to the sofa, where he sank down with a groan.

He looked around the room at the awards and acclamations on the walls and gave a bitter snort. "It's not over, boy. Not by a long shot," he said aloud as he poured himself another drink. "You think you're tough? Well, I've got news for you, boy, I wrote the book on it."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"Do you think it's true?"

Abby glanced at Betsy's curious face as they sat on the back stairs of the Prescott house. It was dusk and still sweltering hot. The eerie quiet that pervaded the town seemed a fitting setting, in view of the subject of their conversation.

"Yes, Betsy, it's true. I heard my mother and father talking about it this morning before they thought I was awake," Abby answered, swatting at a mosquito buzzing around her ears.

"Who would've thought that Judge Connors could be Mr. Darcy's father? They don't look anything at all alike."

"I guess he looks like his mother. The whole thing is just….bizarre."

"It sure is," Betsy agreed."

The girls sat silently for a few moments while Betsy digested this bit of news. Then she turned to Abby curiously. "So I guess Mr. Darcy didn't take this news very well? How long did you say he'd been holed up in his hotel room?"

"For the past three days. Ever since he found out. I heard my father say that he's not even come out of the room, just has liquor brought up to him." Abby's tone was worried. "He wouldn't even let Dr. Weaver in to check on his wound. He could be really sick by now."

"He's more likely really drunk," Betsy said as she studied Abby's concerned features in the dim light. "How could a man drink for three straight days? Gosh, what a hangover he's going to have when he finally sobers up."

Abby fidgeted with the buttons on her sleeves. She couldn't be still and was constantly wriggling. "My father called him names this morning that I've never heard before. Then my mother told him to stop it, and he got mad at her. You know, Betsy, this morning was the first time I've ever heard my mother talk back to him. I could hardly believe my own ears. So now they're not speaking to each other."

Betsy wagged her head sadly. "Wow, that sure doesn't sound like your mom. But then ever since Mr. Darcy got shot, she's been acting different…taking care of him, and all."

"It's the first time since Micah died that she's seemed to care about anything. I was so proud of her when she assisted Dr. Weaver with the surgery. I had no idea she could do anything like that. And now…standing up to my father…I don't know what to think."

"Maybe she's finally found a cause worth fighting for," Betsy suggested. "Maybe she's putting Micah in Mr. Darcy's situation or something. Mothers do things like that after they lose a child. My own mother does it all the time, imagining what Beth would look like now, or what she'd be doing now."

"I just wish I knew if he was okay. If that bandage hasn't been changed in three days, the wound could be infected. He could be lying in that room burning up with fever, or dying, for all we know."

The strain in Abby's voice was all too evident to Betsy. She put a comforting hand on Abby's arm and squeezed gently. "I'm sure he's fine, Abby. He survived the shooting, didn't he? He's just dealing with the shock of finding out that Judge Connors is his father in his own way. It'll take time. He'll be okay."

Abby nodded absently, but she wasn't convinced. When Betsy left a few minutes later, she sat alone on the step in the darkness for a long time. Later when her father called her into the house, she escaped to her room as quickly as possible. Her parents were speaking to each other now but there was still a strain between them that disturbed her.

For hours she paced back and forth in her room, torn between worry and fear. Finally, at nearly one o'clock in the morning, she eased from her room and after making sure her father was snoring loudly from the bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway, she slipped out the back door and down the stairs.

She saw no one as she dashed across the street and into the back door of the hotel. The eerie silence that filled the corridors as she hurried along them was so intense she could hear her heart pounding. By the time she arrived outside Kane's door, she had convinced herself that she was totally insane.

What am I doing here? He told me to leave him alone and here I stand, outside his door like a stray cat. But, I also know that when he asked me to leave that day at Judge Connors', he was doing it for my own good. Or at least what he perceived as my own good. Men! What do they know about what's good for a woman anyway!

A very thin layer of light beneath the door told her that Kane was inside. She knocked softly and glanced around quickly to make sure no one was in the corridor to hear. There was no response from inside the room.

She waited a few moments, trying to decide what to do. Her better judgement told her to get back home before she was discovered, but the very silence from the other side of the door insisted that she make certain Kane was all right. She knew if she left now, without knowing for sure, she wouldn't sleep a wink all night.

She tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, it turned in her hand. Knowing that Kane had refused to let Dr. Weaver into the room, she did not expect the door to be unlocked. Obviously, whoever had been in the room last had not locked it behind them. She suspected it was probably some late night paramour and although that thought was disconcerting, she did not dwell on it.

Instead, she pushed the door open wide enough for her to slip through and closed it behind her. Stifling heat assaulted her. One swift glance around the room revealed that Kane was sprawled across the bed asleep, dressed in only his trousers. The bandage that cris-crossed his body was soiled. Her first instinct was correct. He had not been tending to the wound.

Concern took control of her uneasiness as she hurried to the bed and placed one hand on his forehead. No fever, thank God! She stepped back to survey him, wondering what to do next. His handsome face was shaded with a three day growth of whiskers that gave him a distinctly dangerous appearance that made her heart thump in her chest.

She perused the muscles in his upper arms with a shiver. His physical strength was obvious and disconcerting but it was impossible not to admire as well. He lay on his back, his head turned to one side, one arm stretched out beside him, and the other placed across his belly. She saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath, relieved to see that his breathing wasn't labored. In fact, except for being drunk, he seemed to be in remarkably good shape.

Her gaze followed the lines of his body and felt her own breath quicken. From the top of his tousled head to the tip of his bare toes, he was just about perfect. A bit thin due to the weight he'd lost since the shooting, she thought, observing that his ribs were visible. Nothing a few decent meals wouldn't cure.

She went to the half-closed windows and flung them wide open to allow the breeze to help cool the room. The place was a mess. She began picking up empty whiskey bottles, counting them as she went. There was one for every day since he'd been holed up here and another half-empty one on the dresser. She gingerly placed them on the floor near the doorway to be disposed of later, turning up her nose in disgust at the strong odor. How could anybody drink so much of something that smelled so bad?

She spent the next several minutes straightening the room, pausing to pay special attention to the photograph that adorned the top of the dresser. She had not paid any particular attention to it when she'd been there before, but now, knowing that the beautiful young woman in that photo and Amos Connors had together created the extraordinary man sleeping across the room, she was more curious.

She studied the picture for several minutes, determining what qualities had transferred from the mother to the son. Certainly Kane had his mother's eyes. Dark, penetrating, and filled with laughter, as Kane's were much of the time. But a closer look also revealed that Kane had inherited his mother's sensual mouth. Heat crept up her neck as she remembered the feel of that splendid mouth on hers that night down by the stream. Just thinking about that kiss made her touch her fingers to her lips as she stood staring at the picture.

There was little of Judge Connors in his son, she decided with a glance back at Kane. He had inherited his physical features from his mother. Thankfully so, for Judge Connors could not be termed a handsome man. But then she reminded herself that at the time Sarah Darcy met him, he was approximately Kane's age now. There had been something about him that caused a beautiful young woman to throw caution to the wind and give herself to him body and soul.

She wondered if Sarah had regretted that later when she'd been forced to abandon her family and go away to have her child among strangers. Or had Sarah's love for the ambitious young lawyer from a prominent family been strong enough to sustain her through those days? Abby felt the overwhelming need to have that question answered.

Had Sarah loved Amos Connors throughout her life, in spite of the misfortune that followed that brief summer interlude? Was any love strong enough to survive so many years and so much calamity? How had Sarah reconciled herself to the life she assumed afterwards?

Abby turned to look at Kane for a moment, then looked back at the picture. She couldn't imagine ever being with another man, now that she had met Kane. How had Sarah done it night after night? How had she been able to give her body to strangers if she was truly in love with Judge Connors? How could any woman love one man and sleep with another?

That was unfair, she reminded herself sternly, still studying the radiant face that stared back at her from the photograph. Sarah had no choice. She had been abandoned, then sent away in disgrace. She'd had no family to go to, no one to help her. She had been young, unmarried, uneducated, friendless, and nearly penniless. Whatever money the Connors family gave her when they forced her to leave town had not lasted long with an infant to provide for. The life she'd chosen had been the only avenue available to her. Abby wondered what she would do given those circumstances. It made her view Sarah Darcy in a different light.

She also wondered about Amos Connors. She tried to imagine the gut wrenching pain that he must have suffered to return home and discover the girl he loved had left his life without even a goodbye note. She could imagine no worse fate than having Kane leave her life in such a manner. Judge Connors had never married so he must have continued to love Sarah all those years as well. That said a lot for the man. She couldn't help wondering if Kane had inherited that quality from either of his parents. She sincerely hoped that once Kane Darcy fell in love, it would be the kind that would last forever, and suspected that it would be so.

She turned her attention to Kane then. She poured water from the pitcher on the dresser into the matching bowl, wet a towel, and began washing his face. He stirred in his sleep, grunted and waved her hand away but Abby was not to be deterred. She washed his face, then moved down his body with the wet towel, cleaning gently but firmly as she went.

She paused to wipe away the beads of perspiration that popped up on her brow at the feel of his hard muscled body beneath her fingertips. God, it's hot in here! Pausing to glance at the open window where the breeze was stirring the curtains, she realized with a guilty smile that it wasn't so much the weather that had her sweating, but her activity.

She watched, fascinated, when the wet towel caused Kane's belly to quiver slightly. It was necessary to take a long, deep breath before continuing. Realizing that she might never have this opportunity again, she began to relish the task. Making slow, gentle circles across his body, she enjoyed the way his skin warmed to her touch.

Repeated circles across his chest turned the mat of dark hair to damp curls. Maneuvering the towel a bit, she was able to touch him with her bare hand, and was amazed at the satiny feel of it. She had to wet her lips with the tip of her tongue before she could proceed for her mouth and throat were suddenly so dry they felt like they were glued together.

He stirred again, making soft moaning sounds in his throat that made her heart pound. Then, her eyes widened when she realized that her attention was creating a stir of a different kind. Oh, my! She stared, spellbound, at the erection that had risen unconsciously and was now straining the crouch of his trousers.

Oh, my God! That's amazing! He's not even thinking about it... and yet.. there it is. My goodness! I did that! Just touching him did that!

She stared at his erection, then at the towel she was still massaging across his chest. She quickly yanked it away from him, mortified at what she'd done. Glancing at his face to make sure he was still asleep, she opened and closed her hand several times. Then, biting her lower lip in concentration, she moved closer to the bed and lowered her hand.

She drew a long shuddering breath as she very cautiously placed her hand over the bulge in Kane's trousers. Her eyes widened when she felt his erection pulsating against her palm. She quickly pulled away, waited a moment, then touched him again. This time she did not pull away, but let her fingers curl around him, too curious to resist the impulse. The heat from his erection burned her hand, seemed to burn all the way up her arm but she did not want to break the contact.

Oh, my God! I can 't believe I'm doing this! This is.. is.. it's so big! I never thought it would be so big! Thank God he's sound asleep…

Before she could finish the thought, Kane suddenly caught both her hands, and with a twisting motion, yanked her down onto the bed and rolled over on top of her. It happened so fast, Abby didn't have time to blink. One moment she was standing at the side of the bed, and the next she was lying beneath him, staring up into his fiery eyes. She didn't know which of them was more surprised.

"Abby! What the hell are you doing?"

His voice was so hoarse Abby barely recognized it. He held her wrists above her head, her body pinned beneath him by his weight. She felt his erection scorching against her thighs but when she tried to move, he wrapped his leg over hers so tightly she couldn't.

"I--I-I-"

Abby's voice faded away. She stared at him, torn between embarrassment and excitement. What she saw in his eyes went beyond excitement...way beyond. He was angry, surprised, and more than a little drunk. It was a dangerous combination.

"Answer me. What are you doing here?"

Abby touched the tip of her tongue to her lips before she could speak. "I-I was worried...you wouldn't let Dr. Weaver check on your wound...I was afraid you were very ill…"

Her voice was soft, her eyes wide with concern, both for him and for the way he was looking at her. His eyes were glittering like diamonds in the dim light and he was making no effort to release her hands or to get off her. She wasn't sure she wanted him to.

"I'm touched," he said finally. "So I'm the talk of the town, am I?"

"No more than usual," she replied breathlessly. "Most people don’t know about…about.. They just think you're drinking because you were wounded."

Kane eyed her cautiously. Her lips were pink, inviting, and so very close to his. It was very hard to keep his mind on what she was saying. "But you know?"

She nodded, glancing at her wrists he was holding above her head.

"Well, it doesn't look like there's a whole hell of a lot you don't know about me, Miss Prescott. You know my whole dazzling family history and now you slip in here in the middle of the night and examine me like I was a….."

"I did not! I touched you, that's all! I was washing you ...and...that...happened...I couldn't help it. You did it yourself!"

Kane laughed at her defiant reply. He dipped his head closer to her ear and took her earlobe in his mouth, sucking at it gently until Abby gasped. "What's a man to do, Miss Prescott, when a beautiful young woman appears in his room in the middle of the night and takes advantage of him?" he said softly.

"I did not take advantage of…!"

His mouth cut off the rest of her denial. His kiss was hot it almost melted her teeth. He released her wrists and slipped his arms beneath her, pulling her so tightly into his embrace that there was no room for speculation about the extent of his desire.

When he raised his lips from hers, she couldn't speak, could barely breathe. She knew she should be frightened to be in his arms in a passionate embrace when he had been drinking so much. She knew his resistance was probably at an all time low level but instead of scaring her, it excited her more.

Almost involuntarily, her hands slid up his bare shoulders to lock behind his head. She felt her body meld into the curve of his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She knew her eyes were burning into his, she could feel the heat. She could feel her heart pounding against his chest, could feel his heart pounding in reply. She lifted her head, pulling his face down at the same time until her lips found his again.

It ended all too soon when Kane pulled away. He leaned on one elbow and smoothed a lock of unruly hair back from her face while he grinned at her.

"What were you saying about not taking advantage of me?"

"I'm not."

"What do you call this?"

"I thought it was called kissing."

"It's also called trouble."

"Are you afraid of me, Mr. Darcy?" she asked him, her eyes still blazing with passion.

"You ought to be afraid of me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the man every mother warns her daughter about."

"I'm not afraid of you, Kane."

One brow arched at her softly spoken assurance. She lay still in his arms, her lips slightly parted, still breathing hard, and looking at him with something in her eyes that made him remember this was not the typical girl he was accustomed to having in his arms, or his bed.

"You sure know how to make things hard...uh...difficult, Abby," he said

gruffly after a moment. "You should know better than to come over here when you know I've been drinking. I might be drunk enough to forget that you're a lady."

"But you're not."

He grinned ruefully. "No, I'm not that drunk. I wish to hell I was! " He kissed her lightly on the lips again, then unwrapped himself from her arms and moved away.

"Now go home, Abby, before something happens that we'll both be sorry for."

Abby regretfully watched him draw away. She knew she should be relieved but the unfamiliar heat in her body wasn't relieved. Far from it. She was still throbbing with something she didn’t quite understand.

"But, what about your bandage? It needs to be changed. You don't want it to get infected…"

"Goodnight, Abby, go home."

He turned away from her, putting his back to her, in effect ignoring her. He stretched out, let out a sigh, then settled down and closed his eyes. It wasn't more than a few minutes until the alcohol level in his blood took control and he was sound asleep.

Abby lay on the edge of the bed beside him, not quite knowing what to think. Her mission had not been accomplished. His bandage was still soiled and unchanged. He was still drunk and would probably begin drinking again as soon as he woke up.

She, on the other hand, was changed somehow. She had braved his displeasure by coming here. Moreover, she had braved her own curiosity by touching him in the most intimate way possible. Her hand still burned from the contact. She was still astonished at her boldness.

She told herself that she was very fortunate that he had not been so drunk that he took full advantage of her foolishness. He could have taken her right there, with or without her permission, and it would have been entirely her own fault. But he hadn't done that. He had stopped himself before it went too far. Even the enormous amount of whiskey he'd drunk hadn't been enough to overshadow his sense of honor. So why did she feel frustrated? Why wasn't she glad he had done the honorable thing? Why did she still have this vague gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach while she watched him sleep. She was severely tempted to wake him up and demand ….something….

She watched him for a few minutes. She smoothed his hair back with a smile, then settled down beside him. Turning onto her side, she placed her folded hands beneath her cheek, intending to only stay for a few more minutes just to make sure he didn't wake up and start drinking again.

When Kane turned toward her and wrapped one arm across her protectively, she snuggled back against his chest. She took one hand, placed it over his, lying across her tummy, and smiled happily. She didn't even realize when she went to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Abby was roused from a sound sleep by a door slamming. Before she could get her eyes fully open, she was grabbed by the arm and drug out of Kane's embrace and off the bed.

She hit the floor on her knees. It wasn't until she was yanked to her feet that she finally recognized her father. Josiah Prescott stood near the foot of the bed, holding onto to her arm with one hand, and holding a double-barreled shotgun propped against his stomach with the business end pointed at Kane in the other.

"Papa! What---"

"Shut up!"

His voice was low, dripping venom. The expression he shot her was like nothing Abby had ever seen before. It was so filled with malevolence that her protest froze on her lips.

She flashed a glance to Kane. He had awakened at the same time she did and was obviously surprised that she was still there. She saw his gaze flash to his gunbelt hanging on the back of a chair clear across the room. She didn't know whether she was glad of that or not. The expression on her father's face was murderous and Kane was unarmed, but she also knew that if his gun was within reach, the situation would be even more volatile.

"I ought to kill you right now, you son-of-a-bitch!" Josiah was saying in that savage tone that sent cold chills spiraling up Abby's back. "It wasn't enough that your mama was a whore…you had to make one of my daughter too!"

"You've got this all wrong, Mr. Prescott," Kane said. His gaze flashed from the twin barrels of the murderous short-range weapon pointed at him to Abby's terrified face, then back to Josiah. His voice was calm and he kept his hands in plain sight just so Josiah wouldn't get the idea that he was going to try anything foolish. "This isn't what it looks like."

Josiah gave a short nasty laugh. "No? What kind of fool do you take me for, Darcy? I find my daughter in your bed, in your arms…and you want me to believe nothing happened?"

"Nothing did."

"Papa, please…"

Josiah shoved Abby toward the door so hard she crashed into the dresser. "I'll hear none of your lies, Abigail! My own daughter! Slut! Whore!"

Kane sat up quickly while his face went ash white and his body stiffened with fury. "You've got no right to call her that! She's done nothing…."

"Shut up! I'd kill you this minute if it wasn't for this whole town knowing the reason for it. I'll not have everybody knowing her shame," Josiah thundered.

"Shame? Papa, I've done nothing…please…"

Josiah half-turned and slapped Abby so hard the blow knocked her into the wall. The smile on his face when Kane reacted was nothing short of maniacal. He raised the shotgun and his finger tightened on the twin triggers. Abby tried to scream but Josiah had knocked the wind out of her. All she could do was gasp for breath and pray that Kane would have enough sense to let it go.

"The best thing you can do is get on your horse and leave this town, Darcy, while you still can."

"You're making a big mistake, Mr. Prescott," Kane said as he eased back onto the edge of the bed. He had been about to spring onto Josiah when the shotgun waving in his face made him reconsider. "I care about Abby, I would never harm her."

"Care about her? The way Amos Connors cared about your mama? My daughter has a real future here with a decent young man, and I'm not going to let you ruin that for her. Do you hear me? I'll not have you telling folks what you've done to her."

"I haven't done anything to her, Mr. Prescott. Abby is a lady. I've not, for one moment, forgotten that."

A brief glance passed between Kane and Abby as he made the statement. Though his voice was calm, his eyes were not. Abby saw the first real glimpse of affection in them that he'd allowed himself to show. It made her heart pound, her palms sweat, and she almost forgot the pain in her head where it had contacted the edge of the dresser when her father hit her.

Josiah snorted as he backed toward the doorway. He kept the gun pointed at Kane as he reached behind him for the doorknob, swung the door open, then caught Abby by the arm and pushed her through it into the hallway. "I know your kind, Darcy. Smooth talk, could charm the birds right out of the trees…then the minute you get what you're after, you're gone. Well, you may have gotten what you wanted from my daughter but you'll keep your mouth shut about it if you want to keep breathing. You tell anybody that you've slept with my daughter and I'll personally organize a lynch party. Men in this town don't take kindly to a man like you messing with one their own."

"Mr. Prescott, if you lay another hand on her, I'll kill you."

Kane's statement was softly spoken but the pledge behind it was very clear. Even through his rage, Josiah got his meaning. He swallowed once as he pushed Abby into the hallway, then slammed the door shut.

As her father drug her through the darkened halls and out the back door, Abby was trying to catch her breath. It was still dark, an hour before dawn, so the hotel corridor and the street outside was still empty as Josiah hustled her through them.

Abby was crying so hard she could hardly see to climb the back stairs when they reached the house. Josiah hauled her up them and shoved her inside the back door. He paused to make sure Kane had not followed them, then slammed the door shut.

"Where's your lover?" he taunted as he half drug her down the hallway toward the living room. "He's not so brave when he's caught in the act, is he?"

"How brave would you be with a shotgun shoved in your face?" Abby yanked her arm free of his grasp and spun around to face him, appalled at the outrage on his face.

He slapped her again but she was more prepared for it this time. She didn't fall, but caught her balance on a chair and lifted her bruised, swelling face to level an accusing glare at him.

"How dare you defend him! How dare you slip over there in the middle of the night to crawl into his bed! How dare you disgrace this family in such a vile, repugnant manner!"

"Josiah!"

Abby saw her mother enter the room, still in her nightgown, her face white with a combination of anger and fear. Deirdre was much smaller than her husband, a mere wisp of his size, but she marched into the living room to face him with all the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cub. "What is the meaning of this?"

Josiah pointed at Abby with an accusing finger. "I found her in Kane Darcy's bed! Wrapped up in his arms like a...a...harlot!"

"Mother, please, make him listen!" Abby moved around Josiah to her mother's side, wiping at her streaming eyes with a trembling hand. "Nothing happened! I swear!"

Deirdre took only one look at Abby's face before turning disbelieving eyes back to Josiah. "Josiah, what have you done?"

"Not nearly as much as I should have! I suppose you approve of your daughter sleeping with that gunslinger?"

"Our daughter is a grown woman, Josiah, with a mind of her own. If she says nothing happened between herself and Mr. Darcy, then nothing happened." She reached for the shotgun. "Give me that before you hurt yourself. Or someone else."

"Don't tell me what to do, woman!" he thundered. His grip on the gun stock tightened.

For a moment Abby thought he might use it on her mother. His expression was almost rabid, his tone so savage she actually feared for their lives.

"I can't believe you've behaved so outrageously, Josiah," Deirdre was saying. Her voice was softer now, as she moved a bit closer, her hands outreached for the gun. "How can you accuse your own child of such things?"

"I caught her with him! In his bed! How can you defend that?"

"We had our clothes on, Papa. I swear to God that nothing happened. I went there to make sure he was okay. We talked, he went to sleep, and then I dozed off too. That's all!"

"That's all? That's all! What were you doing in his room? How many times before have you gone there to be with him? How many times have you slipped out of this house to fornicate with him?"

"I have never…"

"Don't lie to me!" Josiah shouted. The veins in his neck were bulging. Sweat was pouring off him as he ranted at her. "My own child…slipping around in the dark like a common street whore! Copulating with a man not worth the sweat off your brow! I warned you, Abigail, what Kane Darcy was after, but you didn't listen. No, no, you went behind my back, behind Frederick's back…and encouraged him. Now look what you've done! If the Gaston's ever learn about this…"

"Is that what you're worried about, Papa? That Frederick will think I've been with someone else? That he'll call off the wedding? Well, let me put your mind at ease…there is not going to be any wedding! Do you hear me! I will not marry Frederick! I don't love him!"

The last strand of Josiah's control snapped. He raised his hand to strike her again but Deirdre intercepted the blow. She grabbed his wrist with both hands and hung on.

"This is your fault, woman!" he shouted as he swung her around, trying to shake her loose. "You could've stopped this, but no, you had to get involved in it. You had to save his miserable life."

His face had turned almost purple with his rage. He was screaming at Deirdre now, trying his best to make her let go of his arm. "You've ruined everything with your milksop attitude about that killer! You should've let him die when you had the chance. You couldn't let him die and put an end to this insane infatuation of hers!"

"It's not an infatuation, Papa! I love Kane! I want to be with Kane!"

Josiah's eyes bulged when his furious gaze swung back to her. Saliva was trickling down the corners of his mouth. He was covered with sweat and his complexion had turned a pasty pale.

Then suddenly he made a hoarse, gurgling sound and went limp. Deirdre caught the shotgun as his eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor, thrashing about in some kind of seizure. His eyes were wide open but his face had twisted into a misshapen mask of horror. His limbs were still twitching madly, except for the left side. The left arm and leg were not moving at all.

"Oh, my God!" Abby whimpered, dropping to her knees at his side.

Deirdre stood beside them, her hair in disarray from the struggle with Josiah, her eyes wide with fear. She knelt down at Abby's side and put an arm around her shoulders.

"What's happened, mother? What's wrong with him?" Abby reached out a trembling hand to touch her father's face.

"He needs a doctor, pronto."

Abby's head snapped around at the male voice behind them. She saw Kane leaning against the living room doorway, his face pale with pain and exertion, still wearing only his trousers and the bandage around his middle. She saw the Colt in his hand and knew that he'd come to protect her from her father's fury.

"The boy's right. Abby, child, get up and go get Dr. Weaver."

Amos Connors moved past Kane into the living room where both women were still huddled over Josiah. He touched Deirdre's hair in a gentle gesture, then reached down to take her arm and pull her to her feet.

She looked at him for a moment before she swallowed and struggled to regain her composure. "Yes, Abby, do what Amos says. Go get Dr. Weaver, quickly."

Abby got to her feet and forced her weak legs to propel her toward the doorway. As she approached Kane, she reached out blindly, and he took her hand. She let him press her into the hollow of his shoulder and hold her momentarily while she gathered her strength.

"Go on, Abby, get the doctor," he said to her with an assuring smile.

She nodded as he put his hand on her elbow and urged her toward the doorway. The expression on her face as she turned to go was so guilt-ridden that it brought a lump to his throat. If the son-of-a-bitch dies, she'll blame herself for it.

Deirdre went to the sofa and got the colorful afghan folded neatly on one end. She quickly covered Josiah with it, glancing over her shoulder at Kane as she did so. "Mr. Darcy, you shouldn't be up. You look like you're ready to pass out yourself."

"Had to come," Kane said. He was leaning heavily against the door frame, resisting the urge to put both hands to his throbbing temples and squeeze to hopefully ease the pain. "He was acting like a crazy man. I was afraid he'd hurt Abby or you."

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Darcy, I truly do. But it's best if you go back to the hotel now. Dr. Weaver will be here shortly and after folks find out that Josiah's been taken ill, people will be dropping by. It would be best for Abby's sake, if any mention of the events leading up to Josiah's attack were kept private."

"Mrs. Prescott, Abby and I…we didn't…I mean...nothing…"

"I understand, Mr. Darcy," Deirdre assured him with a brief glance while she stood beside Josiah. "But the mere speculation would ruin Abby's reputation. And I know you don't want that."

"No, ma'am, of course not."

"Then please return to the hotel. We can handle this, can't we, Amos?"

She glanced at Amos for reassurance. He cleared his throat and nodded finally, but he wasn't looking at her, but at Kane.

He moved toward the doorway where Kane was leaning. "Come on, boy, I'll help you back to your room."

"I got here by myself, old man. I can get back."

He shot Amos an icy glare before gathering his strength and heaving himself away from the door frame.

"Mr. Darcy, Amos doesn't deserve your contempt, or your tone," Deirdre said to him in an authoritative tone.

"Deirdre, it's all right," Amos said to her quietly, gaze eyes still focused on Kane's hostile features. "This is not the time or place."

"Amos is right, young man. This is not the time, but there are factors involved here that you don't know yet. Until you do, show him the respect he deserves."

Her sharp tone registered and was noted. But the sarcastic expression on his face as he met Amos' gaze for a moment told them both plainly that it was only good manners that kept him from saying something unpleasant in reply.

"I hope Mr. Prescott will be all right, ma'am," Kane said as he turned toward the back door.

He was halfway back to his hotel room before it hit him what Abby was saying when he got to the Prescott place. I love Kane! I want to be with Kane! That's what she said just before her father keeled over.

He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or cuss.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Kane appeared nonchalant when Dr. Weaver wandered into the saloon. The doctor ordered a tall glass of beer, looked around the crowded room, and finally saw Kane sitting alone at a back table. Without an invitation, he dodged a half-naked waitress carrying a large tray of drinks, and arrived at Kane's table.

He paused to take his handkerchief from a vest pocket and wipe his brow before motioning to the empty chair. "Mind if I sit?"

"Suit yourself."

"Sure is hot, isn't it?" Dr. Weaver asked as he stuck the wrinkled handkerchief back inside his pocket. "Must be going to storm again. I really hate this time of year."

Kane didn't reply. He sipped from a half full glass of whiskey while he observed the doctor's flushed, sweating features. It was mid afternoon, but the room was unusually dark due to the heavy clouds rolling in. The humidity hung like a damp blanket, steaming everything and everyone in its path.

"Good to see you up and dressed. How do you feel?"

"All right."

"Much pain?"

Kane shook his head. "Nope, that's better too."

"Good, good. Glad to hear it. At least one of my patients is on the road to recovery."

"Meaning?"

Dr. Weaver sipped at his beer, pausing to throw Kane a concerned glance. "Josiah Prescott," he said with a heavy sigh. "He's not doing so good."

"What happened to him?" Kane's voice was casual, his gaze focused on the attractive saloon girl who was waiting tables nearby.

"Stroke," Dr. Weaver said in reply. "A bad one. Left side paralyzed, can't do more than mumble. Don't know if he'll ever be better."

"That's too bad. What caused it?"

"Josiah's a damn fool, that's what caused it. I warned him a year ago to take better care of himself. High blood pressure, you know. I told him he needed to get more rest, hire somebody to help in the store to take some of the load off him, but no, he didn't listen. And look at him now."

"How's Mrs. Prescott and Abby taking this?" Again Kane's tone was nonchalant, his gaze mild as he waited for Dr. Weaver to answer the question. Only the slight tightening of his grip on the glass revealed his true interest.

"Deirdre is a strong woman. She's dealing with it. Hasn't left his side for a minute, of course. Same with Abby. Poor child is really taking it hard. It's tough, her being the apple of her papa's eye, and all."

"Yeah," Kane said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice while he replayed Josiah's cruelty two days earlier in his mind.

"I don't hold much hope for a recovery," Dr. Weaver was saying. "Oh, he may get able to talk a bit, or maybe even get around some on his own, but as far as a complete recovery? It's not going to happen."

"From what I've seen of Mr. Prescott, he's one tough old bastard. He may surprise you."

Dr. Weaver smiled thinly as he sat his nearly empty glass on the scarred tabletop. "I'd like to think so, but I've seen too many strokes like this over the years. He may live another five...ten years...if you call it living...but he'll never be the man he was prior to this attack."

That's not necessarily a bad thing, Kane thought to himself.

"And if he should live that long?" he said aloud in answer to the contemplative expression on the doctor's face.

Dr. Weaver shrugged as he glanced at Kane. "He'll be miserable, hate himself, hate what he's become, probably hate everybody around him. He'd be better off if that stroke had killed him right off…and so would Deirdre and Abby, though I feel bad at saying it out loud."

Kane didn't reply. He sat sipping at the whiskey in his glass, though it had lost its appeal now. After a moment, Dr. Weaver pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

"Well, I've got house calls to make. You keep that bandage changed, young man. You're making good progress. Keep it up."

He flashed Kane a harried smile before moving through the afternoon crowd and making an exit onto the boardwalk.

Only a few moments passed before another shadow fell across Kane's table. Looking up, he wasn't surprised to see Wes Carlin slide into the chair the doctor had vacated.

"Evening, Kane," Wes drawled as he motioned to the nearest waitress. "Whiskey, straight up," he said when she approached the table, then paused until she had melted into the crowd before continuing his conversation. "You're looking better than the last time I saw you."

Kane didn't speak, but stared back at the man while he rolled his glass back and forth between his palms.

"Yes sir, you looked like pure hell that day. I've been worried about you, Kane."

"I'm touched."

Wes grinned at the dry sarcasm in Kane's voice but he didn't take offense at it. "I've been hearing things about you, Kane. Seems folks around this town have taken quite a liking to you. Guess that's because you got yourself shot to keep their bank from being robbed."

He paused to take his drink from the waitress. He tossed her a gold coin and winked at her before turning his attention back to Kane. "Anyway, when you locked yourself in that room for half a week with a bottle, folks had a hard time figuring out why. There's all kinds of rumors flying around...some of them pretty interesting."

"You got a point, Wes?"

Carlin grinned again. He sipped from his glass, then sat it on the table. His cold eyes focused on Kane's bored expression with the alertness of an eagle watching a small barnyard animal he had chosen for his lunch.

"Yeah, Kane, I got a point. I made you a proposition, remember? I'm here to discuss it."

"There's nothing to discuss."

"You're not wearing a badge anymore, Kane. Word has it you threw it at the judge and told him where to stick it."

"So?"

"So your deal with him is off. You're a free man."

"I've always been a free man, Wes."

Carlin chuckled as though he knew more than he wanted to divulge. Just how much he knew about Kane's relationship with Judge Connors was still a mystery, but his smug grin put Kane on alert.

"Are you with me on this, Kane?"

"Maybe I am, maybe not."

Carlin's eyes narrowed at the nonchalant tone Kane had used. His gaze flashed to the gun on Kane's hip, remembering just how well Kane could use it. Then he smiled again as he leaned forward.

"You're either with me, Kane, or against me. You can't have it both ways."

"Like you said, Wes. I'm not wearing a badge anymore. Whatever you do, is your business, but it doesn’t involve me."

"You're involved, Kane, whether you like it not. You can walk right into that bank, take every last cent in the place, and walk back out without firing a shot. Nobody has to get hurt."

He paused to wave one hand around the room. The place was full, every table and chair occupied, and the long bar at the front of the room packed with thirsty cowboys and townspeople alike.

"There's a lot of nice folks in this town. Most of them are downright fond of you these days. I'd hate to have to kill a few of them to get what you can take without any trouble."

"And just what makes you think I could rob the bank so easily?"

"These folks have seen what you can do with a gun. You walk in, shout hold-up, and the whole damn bunch of them would piss their pants. Then they'd hand you over anything you want. They wouldn't want to rile you any."

"So?"

"Me? I don't care if I have to kill a few of them."

"You think I do?"

Carlin's grin was more of a sneer than a smile. "Yeah, Kane, I think you do. I think that down deep in your little black heart, you really like this respectable crap. You like having people look up to you. I know you, Kane, remember? You don't want to see anybody in this town get hurt. Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong, Wes. I don't give a damn about this town or the people in it. So if you want to rob the bank, go ahead. I don't give a damn about that either."

Kane got to his feet, tossed a coin on the table to pay for his drink, and started to walk away. The sound of Wes' amused voice stopped him.

"Now, Kane, there must be something in this town that you give a damn about. Otherwise, you'd have been long gone as soon as you could ride. It'll take me a day or two, but I'll figure out what that is."

"You'll be wasting your time, Wes. Do whatever the hell you want about the bank job, just leave me out of it. I've got enough problems of my own right now. Being hunted down by the Rangers for bank robbery is one problem I can live without, and I intend to do just that."

"What's the matter with you, Kane? You used to be a hell-raiser. You loved trouble, went looking for it, as I recall. What happened to you?"

Kane turned to shoot him an icy glare over his shoulder. "Eight months in Yuma, Wes. That's what happened to me. Now, I don't know about you, maybe you liked it there. I didn't. And I don't plan on ever going back."

Wes smiled at the authority in Kane's voice while their gazes locked. "Neither do I. That's why I need you for this job, Kane."

"Forget it!"

"I'm not going to forget it, friend. There's a ton of money to be made here and I aim to have my share of it."

"Then get it yourself!"

Kane walked away before Wes could reply. He paused just outside the batwing doors to draw a long breath. He unclenched his hands, having just realized that they had tightened into fists during his conversation with Wes.

It was almost dark now, thanks to the low-hanging cloud cover. Distant lightning split the sky and the echoing thunder boomed a warning of the storm building further west. People scurried along the boardwalk past him while he took time to take a cheroot from his vest pocket and light it.

Reluctant to go back to his empty hotel room, he leaned one shoulder against the porch column in front of the saloon and smoked silently. The sounds of raucous laughter from inside the saloon, which at one time would have beckoned him back for a good time, now grated on his nerves.

Maybe Wes is right. I ought to have something to show for this bullet hole in me before I leave this town. A few thousand dollars from Freddie Gaston's bank would sure ease the pain. He smiled at the thought of emptying the bank vault and the expression on Frederick's face when he looked down the barrel of Kane's Colt. Little bastard probably would piss his pants. That would be worth something.

His thoughts drifted to Amos Connors. The smile vanished as his eyes narrowed with contempt. And if ever there was a man I'd like to see squirm, he's the one. Of course, if I did help Wes rob the bank, His Honor would move heaven and hell to send me back to Yuma for the rest of my life. And, unfortunately, he's got the resources to do it.

He shook his head as he exhaled, then grimaced at the nagging pain in his left side. It'd be pretty damned stupid to get myself nearly killed preventing a bank robbery, then turn right around and rob the damn thing myself. Then, again, no one would be expecting it either. Shit…

He was contemplating the irony of the situation when he realized someone had walked up beside him.

"Mr. Darcy, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time?"

Kane stared in surprise at Deirdre Prescott's pale, tired features as she looked up at him in the growing duskiness. He straightened up, took off his hat, and cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you, Mrs. Prescott?"

Deirdre's smile was genuine, though drawn, as she laid a hand on his arm. "In private, Mr. Darcy, if you don't mind."

"Of course, ma'am."

He followed the insistent touch of her hand as she lead him down the boardwalk toward the Prescott General Mercantile. She opened the door, led him inside, then closed and locked the door behind them. A single lamp on the counter did little to beat back the gloom. She went to turn it up, then faced Kane with a determined expression.

"Mr. Darcy, I fear you will think this situation is none of my business, and perhaps you're right. But I feel it's my duty to speak to you nonetheless."

Kane's brows rose at the tone of her voice. He stared at her, seeing a beautiful woman who appeared to be so delicate that a strong gust of wind would blow her away, but whom he realized, had a backbone carved of solid granite. Funny, no one would ever guess at first glance that she could be so imposing.

"Mrs. Prescott, if this is about Abby…and me...about what happened the other morning…"

"It's not about that, Mr. Darcy. Abby assured me that nothing improper transpired, and I believe her. Abby has never lied to me, Mr. Darcy, about anything. I have no reason to think she is lying about this. And, in spite of your reputation, I believe that you are an honorable young man. I don't think you would take advantage of a young, innocent girl's feelings."

The mention of Abby's feelings for him, made Kane uneasy. He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing behind him at the closed door and wishing he could escape. One more glance at Deirdre's determined features sent that idea right out of his mind.

"I want to speak to you about your father."

Kane's expression tightened. His lips thinned into narrow lines of contempt as he shook his head. "No, ma'am. With all due respect, I do not intend to discuss that with you, or with anybody else."

He turned for the doorway and reached for the doorknob.

"Mr. Darcy, please do me the courtesy of hearing me out."

Mental images of this woman holding his head while he vomited and washing his face afterward flashed through Kane's mind. Indecision made him hesitate.

"Mrs. Prescott, I don't want to talk about this."

"Talking about it is the only way to make you understand that Amos did not abandon you or your mother. He never knew about you. That's the truth, Kane."

The sincerity behind her softly spoken words brought a scornful snort from his throat. "Why should I believe that? Why should I believe anything he says?"

"Because he is the most honorable man I've ever known. He tried to do the right thing by you, Kane, once he knew of your existence. He tried everything to find you. Detectives, lawyers, he would have bargained with the devil himself if it would have led him to you, but you were always on the move, always a step beyond."

"I suppose his deep affection for me is why he took one look at me and decided I needed to go to Yuma."

"He took one look at you, knew you were, indeed, his son, and was desperate for some way to keep you from disappearing from his life again. The method he chose was extreme, of course, but given his choices at the time, I believe he did the best he could.

"No one was more upset about your going to prison, Kane, than Amos. But he was convinced that if he could find some way to bring the two of you together, in time he'd be able to explain everything. He wanted the opportunity to get to know you, for you to get to know him before he told you that he was your father. He wanted to make up for all those years when he was not a part of your life."

"How do you know all this?"

"Amos and I grew up together back East. We have been friends our entire lives and have maintained a correspondence throughout the years."

"I'll bet Mr. Prescott loved that," Kane said sarcastically.

"Josiah accepted what he could not change."

"What's your point, Mrs. Prescott?"

"Give Amos a chance. And believe me when I tell you that he truly loved your mother. Indeed, he still loves her, even after all these years. That’s why he's never married."

The scorn on Kane's face made the rueful expression deepen in Deirdre's eyes as she watched him. "Yeah, I'll bet! Why didn't he try to find her? Why did he wait until she was dead to start looking?"

"Amos' father was somewhat like Josiah, Kane," she replied with a sigh. "He had great plans for Amos, law school, coming into the family practice afterwards, marriage to a proper young Bostonian lady. He was not prepared for Amos to fall in love with a maid, no matter how beautiful or sweet she was. When he discovered that Sarah was carrying you, he threatened her. He drove her away from Boston and Amos, and he did it in such a convincing manner that she was forever too frightened to let Amos know where she was, or about his child.

"And," she added with a sad smile. "He convinced Amos upon his return from law school that she had rejected him for another man. He could be very persuasive, Kane. Amos had no reason to doubt his own father, so after trying in vain to find Sarah on his own, he finally accepted that she was gone forever. Until he got the letter after her death, he had no idea what had really kept them apart all those years."

Kane was silent when she finished. A lump in his throat made it impossible to speak and his eyes burned. He wanted another drink.

"You look a great deal like your mother."

He turned then to face her again, his eyes wide with surprise. "You knew my mother?"

Deirdre nodded as a slight smile touched her lips. "I didn't know her well but I met her on several occasions. She was very beautiful. And also very sweet. It was impossible not to like her. Though I wanted very much to dislike her."

Kane's brows arched curiously at the statement. "Why do you say that?"

Deirdre turned to blow out the lamp on the counter top. She moved across the room and took his arm again, smiling at him when he opened the door for her. "When Amos told you that he was your father, did he mention that he was engaged to another woman when he met your mother?"

Kane nodded as they walked out onto the boardwalk and into the gloom of the impending storm.

"I was that woman, Kane."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Abby stared out the window into the falling rain with a heart as heavy as the clouds pouring down upon the town. She saw her mother approach Kane on the boardwalk in front of the saloon, then saw them disappear into the store. She wondered what on earth they could be discussing.

Her brow wrinkled thoughtfully. There had been little time for conversation since that horrible morning two days earlier when her father had crumpled to the floor, stricken by a severe stroke from which Dr. Weaver doubted he would ever recover. It had taken every moment of the day and night to care for her father's most basic needs.

He could not speak. He could not feed himself, could not even control his bodily functions. All he could do was lie helplessly in bed making terrible animal-like sounds when he tried to communicate with either of them.

Thankfully, it seemed Kane was healing. Seeing him just now from the window, she could tell that he was looking much better. Clean shaven, clean clothes, and walking in a near normal manner, he was obviously recovering from his wounds. She closed her eyes and said a silent thank you to God for that. Those awful moments when her father had the shotgun pointed at him that morning had been the most terrifying in her life. She had been certain that he was going to die right in front of her eyes, at her own father's hand, and there had been nothing she could have done to prevent it.

The gurgling sounds behind her made her shudder. She closed her eyes tightly and leaned her forehead against the cool window pane. At least the thunderstorm had cooled the tepid air for awhile. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Kane leave the store and head down the street toward the hotel. She saw him tip his hat to Mr. and Mrs. Abbott when he passed them on the boardwalk. It made her smile to realize that he had risen in the townspeople's opinions so quickly. He deserved their respect. He'd earned it.

She turned away from the window, thankful that her mother would soon be home. Her father could not be left alone even for a minute, but being in this room with him, in the condition he was in now, made her feel trapped. She could hardly bear to see him so helpless, so dependent. It was heart breaking.

His insistent gurgling sent her scurrying to his bedside in alarm. He was propped up on pillows, gesturing at something on the table beside the bed.

"What is it, Papa?"

Josiah strained to point with his good hand at the table again.

"The pad? You want the pad?"

He nodded. Sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip with the exertion. He lay back for a moment while he gathered his strength, then tried to tell her something else.

"The pen? You want the pen too?"

His affirmative nod sent her around the bed to get the pad and pen and after slipping the pad beneath his right hand, and positioning the pen in his fingers, she craned her neck to see if she could make out what he was trying so hard to write.

Your fault, she read. Tears pricked her eyelids. She couldn't look at him, but kept her focus on the words.

"I know, Papa," she said softly. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen. It's all my fault."

Josiah's agreeing grunt didn't help her spirits any. She swallowed hard and swiped one hand across her eyes while she struggled to make out the next words he was scrawling on the pad.

Marry Frederick.

Her startled gaze flashed to his face, then quickly away. Looking directly at his twisted features made her vaguely ill. His face had contorted so that one eye was wide open, the other drooping. The left side of his face was paralyzed so that when his lips moved, only the right half succeeded. Spittle trickled down the left side onto his chin.

"Marry Frederick? Oh, Papa, no! Please! I don't love Frederick! Please don't ask me to marry him!"

The pen in Josiah's good hand scratched authoritatively. Marry Frederick. Promise.

"Papa, please don't ask me to do this!"

You owe me. Promise.

His face was becoming mottled with agitation. The wild expression in his eyes made her heart thump with fear that he was going to have another attack. He caught her wrist with his good right hand and clamped down on it. He was gurgling furiously now and Abby was frightened.

"I'll marry Frederick, Papa, if that's what you want," she said, stifling a sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she made the promise, almost choking on the words. "Please, you must stay calm."

Promise, he wrote one more time and then thumped the pad for emphasis.

"I promise," she whispered through trembling lips.

Tell Frederick. Marry right away.

Abby nodded miserably as she held back a sob.

Marry Frederick...right thing.

Josiah let go of the pen and slumped back against the pillows, his right eye closed, the left one still obscenely wide open. Abby wet a towel and bathed his face gently while he lay gasping for breath, sweating profusely.
She couldn't speak, couldn't soothe him because her throat had closed off with a horrible choking pain. She crawled onto the bed, placed her cheek against his, and closed her eyes.

"I promise, Papa, I'll marry Frederick. I'll tell him tonight," she finally said in a strangled tone.

Her promise made Josiah relax. In a few minutes he was asleep again, a half smile on his face. She continued to hold him tenderly while her tears ran down her cheeks and wet the collar of her dress.

While he slept, her heart was breaking. She finally had a pretty good idea of how Sarah Darcy must have felt.

***

Abby forced a smile when Frederick held her at arm’s length. The loving expression on his face made her long to burst into tears. Instead, she patted her apron pocket, touching the sheets from the pad where her father had scrawled his demands. She had torn them off and tucked them into her pocket, knowing that it was best if no one else ever knew of this bargain she'd made. No one else could ever understand why she felt it was necessary to agree to it.

"Abby, you've made me the happiest man in Texas," Frederick was beaming when she was able to make her splintered thoughts focus once more. "I can't wait to tell my parents. They've been asking me for weeks about when we're going to set a date."

His handsome face was actually glowing in the light from the overhead lantern hanging on his front porch. "Wow, we've got so many plans to make. A ring to buy, a wedding to plan…when… do you have a date in mind?"

Abby shook her head. "Any time is fine, Frederick. You choose."

Her voice was so soft the wind almost blew it away. She avoided his gaze so he wouldn't see the pain in her eyes or the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. But Frederick was so happy, he didn't notice her hesitation.

"Oh, goodness, it takes time to properly plan a wedding, so I suppose we should plan at least three months in the future, don't you think? And we'll have to find a place to live...what do you think? Any place strike your fancy? Of course, we'll build our own home in due time but until then, we can have our own little love nest here in town somewhere…"

Abby tried to smile at his enthusiasm, but she felt like her face was cracking. Her lips trembled with the effort, but it was dark enough that he didn't notice. The mention of a love nest made her stomach churn. She thought she was going to be sick at the picture that term brought to her mind.

Frederick babbled on for several minutes while she numbly nodded in agreement, not focused enough to even know what she was agreeing with. Her only thought was to escape.

Finally, she told him she had to get back to her father and he reluctantly agreed. He took her in his arms and kissed her in a manner unlike any kiss thus far in their relationship. It was more proprietary, more intimate, and it made her fearful. She endured it as long as she could, then pulled away.

Frederick seemed to realize he'd taken a liberty, and immediately changed tactics. "Abby, I love you so much! We're going to be so happy! I can't wait for us to be husband and wife. I can't wait to wake up next to you every morning."

Abby's pale face flooded with color at the implications of that statement as she backed away toward the steps. She murmured something she hoped was appropriate as she put distance between them, waved to him with a shaky hand, then made a hasty retreat.

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she was out of sight, but she didn't care. It was dark and no one could see as she hurried up the darkened street. After running for a block, she paused to catch her breath.

I can't go back home! Not yet!

She wiped at the tears on her cheeks and debated her alternatives. Her mother wasn't expecting her till morning since she had insisted that Abby spend the night with Betsy after seeing Frederick. She had sensed the desperation in Abby's manner, but had chalked it up to fatigue and worry over her father, and knew Abby needed some space and time away.

The bang of the piano at the saloon broke into her thoughts. It was still early. He was probably there. Dear Lord, please let him be there!

She picked up her skirts, dodged a puddle in the street, and changed directions. In moments, she was standing in the shadows outside the saloon, peering in through the window. She saw Kane seated at a back table, facing the doorway, nursing a glass of whiskey, but he wasn't looking up.

A man came up the boardwalk from the opposite direction. He halted at the sight of the young woman staring into the saloon's window with such intensity. She was obviously from a good family. Her clothes and manner testified to her station in life.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?" he asked politely.

Abby looked up at him. He was a stranger, she had never seen him before. That meant he probably didn’t know her either. She decided to take the chance.

"Yes, sir, as a matter of fact you can. Do you know Kane Darcy?"

"Kane Darcy?"

"Yes, he's sitting right there," Abby said, pointing through the glass.

"I see him," the man said. "How can I help you?"

"Tell him I need to speak with him, if you would please. Tell him it's very important."

The desperation in her voice caused the man's brows to rise curiously. "All right, ma'am, I'll tell him, but he'll probably want to know who's sending the message."

Abby looked at the man again, making sure she didn't recognize him. "Tell him Abby wishes to speak with him."

"Abby," the man repeated. Then he smiled as he tipped his hat to her. "Yes, ma'am."

He pushed the bat-wing doors open and walked into the noisy barroom. Making his way through the patrons, he approached Kane's table.

"Evening, Kane."

Kane looked up at him with a scowl. "What the hell do you want, Wes?" he growled.

"Me? I don't want nothing, friend, but there's a little gal out there on the porch who wants to talk to you bad."

"Girl? What girl?"

"Pretty little thing, at least as much as I could see in the dark. About this high…" he said, holding his hand about shoulder level. "Long yellow hair...got a shape I'd like to know better, if you know what I mean. Said her name was Abby."

Kane's head snapped up. His eyes bored into Wes' amused gaze for an instant before he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he pushed Wes aside and headed for the front door.

Wes Carlin turned to watch him push the bat-wing doors open and disappear into the darkness beyond the realm of the saloon lights. He picked up the remainder of Kane's drink, tossed it back, and set the glass back on the table with a smack of delight.

"And you said there wasn't anything in Cimarron that you gave a damn about," he said aloud with a smirk. "I knew you were lying through your teeth, friend, and now I know why."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It took all Abby's strength not to dissolve into tears when Kane walked through the bat-wing doors. She was standing in the shadows out of sight so that he had to look around to find her. It gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. Just the sight of him made her pulse race. Clean shaven except for the neatly trimmed moustache, hair in raven layers beneath his hat, arrayed in a hunter green shirt tucked into dark trousers, he was so handsome it all but took her breath.

The concern on his face when he saw her did little to relieve her turmoil. It was the first time she'd seen him face to face since that horrible encounter with her father but any apprehension left her the second he picked her out of the shadows.

"Abby! What's wrong? Are you all right?"

She nodded, feeling foolish to have sought him out in such a public manner. "I-I-I'm fine, Kane," she stammered as he took her arm and drew her into the alley alongside the saloon where they were less likely to be seen by a passer-by.

"Something must be wrong. Why else would you come looking for me? Don't you know somebody might see you?"

His hand remained on her arm as he stared down at her through the dim light. Now that he was here, Abby struggled to keep her composure. Just his touch filled her with a longing that made her heart ache and her eyes burn.

"I-I-I-I…"

Her throat closed off. The tears she'd been trying to subdue came flooding out, along with the silent desperation she'd kept trapped inside all evening. The concern in his eyes made her throw herself into his arms and bury her face in his chest. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in the back of his shirt as she hung onto him, afraid he would push her away.

He didn't. His arms folded around her as he pulled her deeper into an embrace. Real worry caused his eyes to widen at her distress.

"Abby, what is it? Tell me what's wrong. Is it your father?"

Abby shook her head. "No, it's not that…I just need to talk to you," she managed to say finally.

Kane looked around but could see no one nearby. "Well, we can't talk here in the alley. Somebody's sure to come by."

"Can we go to your room at the hotel?" she asked, wondering where on earth she'd found the nerve to ask that question.

Kane looked surprised but then realized the sense her suggestion made. "That would be safer than standing out here waiting for somebody to see us."

Abby nodded as she pulled back in his arms and tried to smile. "Yes, I think so too."

Without speaking, Kane led her toward the hotel through the alley, approaching the back door without encountering anyone except a large calico cat who took his head out of a abandoned pail to look at them arrogantly before returning to his quest for food. They slipped inside and made their way to Kane's room on the second floor unobserved.

Kane pushed the door open and led Abby inside. After closing it behind them, he tossed his hat onto the dresser, then turned to go across the room to light the lamp on the bedside table.

"Don't, "Abby said as she caught his arm.

He turned back to face her, surprised at the inflection in her voice. In the dim light he could see the tears in her eyes and the way her lower lip still trembled. In the seconds he stood staring at her, Abby ran her hands up his arms, then around his neck.

She moved closer, fitting her body into the curve of his. She pushed her inhibitions to a far corner of her mind, drawing instead from the well of emotion boiling inside her as she lifted her face toward him, willing him to know what she needed.

His reaction was instinctive. His arms closed around her. His mouth found hers in the darkness, claiming it with a fire that all but took her breath. She kissed him back with a matching passion that seemed to roar through her body, leaving her weak and breathless.

She pressed closer, rewarded by the almost instantaneous arousal that burned through his trousers like a brand. Indeed, she was branded by this passion that erupted until it flowed between them like the night breeze filtering through the open window.

She felt his tongue gently flick against hers. It was like being struck by lightning. Her knees went weak while a soft whimper began deep in her throat. She vaguely wondered if she might actually faint for a moment. When she reciprocated the gesture, awkwardly at first, then with more confidence, she could sense his surprise.

He took her face in both hands and lifted his head. His eyes burned into hers when he stared at her incredulously. "Abby. . hold on.. .this is..."

"Wonderful," she finished for him. Her fingertips explored the taut muscles in his jaws while she looked up at him with feverish yearning. The stubble of a day long growth of beard was oddly exciting and the fire in his eyes made her knees feel wobbly.

She pulled his face down, kissing him again passionately. She felt his hands move down her back, caressing, touching, evoking feelings that were at once foreign, and yet completely natural. She leaned into the embrace, pressing herself against the hard length of him, reveling in his strength, his masculinity, and his passion.

She lifted one hand to loosen the top button of his shirt. Her fingertips were shaky and she felt clumsy at first. By the time the third button opened, she was more confident. The fourth and fifth came open quickly and easily. Keeping her mouth pressed to his, she slipped one hand inside his shirt. His skin was so hot it almost burned her. She heard the out rush of his breath when her nails trailed through the silky curls that covered his chest.

She pulled his shirt open and lifted her head to kiss his throat, feeling the pulse hammering beneath her lips. When she planted soft kisses across his chest, then boldly flicked her tongue over his left nipple, she felt him tremble ever so slightly.

"Abby. . you've got to stop this.. you don't know what you're doing.." Kane said hoarsely.

Abby paused to look up at him, puzzled by the statement. "You mean I'm not doing it right?"

"No, that's not what I meant. You're doing it just fine. .too good. that's the problem."

"Why?" she murmured, taking time to glance up at his uneasy expression between scattering hot, damp kisses across his chest.

Kane stood with both hands on her shoulders, his head leaned back while he drew in deep mouthfuls of air, trying to focus on something other than the effects her mouth was having on his body.

Abby smiled when he didn't answer. She watched him swallow hard, felt his belly quiver beneath her fingertips when her hand moved downward.

"You mean. this?"

She felt the quick intake of his breath when the palm of her hand covered the throbbing erection straining his trousers.

"Damn, Abby," she heard him hoarsely whisper.

Amazed at her own boldness, she lifted shaky fingers to his belt buckle. The double row of teeth released his gun belt, which she placed gently on the dresser. When she reached for the buckle of the belt running through his trousers, he caught her hands.

"Abby. this is crazy..."

"I know..."

She removed her hands from his grip and placed them on his chest. The steady pounding of his heart beneath her touch filled her with greater confidence. When she bent her head to kiss his chest again, he pulled away.

"Damn it, girl, this is not a game."

The strained quality of his voice only strengthened her resolve. She stepped back, and keeping her gaze locked with his, began loosening the buttons of her bodice. When the dress fell in graceful folds to the floor at her feet, she heard herself ask in a voice so confident, she was amazed, "'Does this look like a game?"

The expression on his face was somewhere between appreciation and shock. For a moment, she was afraid he thought she was ugly because he couldn't speak. He stared at her, unable to keep his gaze from flashing up and down her scantily clad frame. Wearing only a thin chemise, she knew little was left to the imagination, even in the dim light. With a glance downward, she saw that excitement had caused her nipples to harden. Goose bumps rose on her arms when he lifted his gaze back to her face for she could see his determination melting into a pool of passion.

He swallowed again, breathed deeply a couple of times, then wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Abby, what...?"

"I want you to make love to me, Kane."

Her voice was very soft, her eyes shining with a need so strong he could feel it.

"I don't think...."

"Don't think…thinking ruins everything. I know you want me. I want you too. I need you, Kane. Please make love to me."

For a man who was accustomed to taking his pleasure with little thought to the after effects, Kane's restraint surprised even himself. "Abby, you've been through too much the past couple of weeks. You don't know what you're asking. This isn't something you can go back and undo, once it's done."

"I know that. I don't want to undo it. I'm not going to have a fit of regret in the morning, Kane. I want to be with you. I need to be with you."

This is probably the only time I'll ever have with you. I cannot go into a marriage to Frederick without ever knowing what it was like to make love with you. I can bear anything…if I have that memory to hold onto. I love you and I need you to love me...even if it's only physical...even if it's only for one night. Please give me that. I'll never ask anything more.

She held her breath while his mind and his body argued. When he still hesitated, she lifted a shaky hand to the ribbons of her chemise and began to lower it.

"Let me do that."

His voice sounded like warm honey in the darkness as he moved towards her. A moment later his fingers touched her skin, drawing the ribbons loose, then deftly opening the garment.

Abby closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace. When the chemise floated to the floor at her feet, leaving her body exposed to his eyes, she heard the sharp intake of his breath.

"Jesus, Abby, you are so…beautiful," she heard him whisper hoarsely above her.

Tears burned her eyes as his words swept away any lingering doubts. Thankful for the darkness that hid her surging emotions, she buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder and kissed his throat.

"I'm so glad you think so," she murmured as her lips moved over his skin. "I was afraid…"

"Silly girl," she heard him laugh softly as his arms encased her securely against his chest. "You are the most beautiful girl that I've ever known. Don't you know that?"

"I do now."

Abby offered him her lips, and felt her heart stop for a moment when he kissed her again, this time deeper and more passionately than before. It was an affirmation that she had worn down his defenses.

She felt tiny shocks erupt along her spine as his hands moved down her back slowly, caressing, leaving a trail of molten lava in their path. She moaned softly in her throat when his hands splayed over her buttocks and lifted her toward him. She pressed against him with total abandon, kissing him back feverishly.

Throwing caution to the wind, she began pulling his shirt out of his trousers. Then running her hands up across his chest, careful to bypass the bandage that still covered the majority of his left side, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders. While she covered his neck and bare shoulders with wet warm kisses, Kane quickly unbuttoned the shirt sleeves and let the garment drop to the floor at his feet.

He reached to unbuckle his belt but Abby's trembling fingers caught his hands.

"No, let me…"

Her voice was a mere whisper as she leaned down, planting kisses all the way down his belly as she opened the buckle, then the buttons of his trousers, one by one, kissing his flesh beneath each button as it came open.

She felt him tremble slightly. "Am I doing it right?"

"If you were doing it any better, I couldn't stand it."

She smiled at the strained quality of his voice as she tugged at the waistband to pull his trousers off his hips. The moment they hit the floor, Kane picked her up, held her against him while he kicked off his boots and his trousers and then carried her through the darkness to the bed.

Abby gasped when he laid her down, then lay down beside her and drew her into the circle of his arms. The heat from his arousal burned against her belly but instead of the modesty she had always expected at this moment, she was too excited to think about being modest. The impact of his lean body full length against hers made her light headed. Stars exploded behind her eyelids when he bent his head and took one coral tipped nipple in his mouth. She moaned softly as he slowly lavished all his skill on first one breast, then the other. She couldn't breath, couldn't speak. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her body pressed to his mouth with a will all its own.

He explored her body with a lazy expertise that made her feel faint. She knew it was only the waves of passion detonating inside her that kept her from passing out from the slow, patient touch of his hands and lips on her body.

When she thought she'd burst apart from the pleasure of his mouth on her body, she whimpered. Instantly, she felt his head lift and opened her eyes to find him watching her. The expression on his face was torn between pain and pleasure. She realized he had never taken this much time with a woman before, that he was putting her pleasure far ahead of his own. It made her love him all the more.

"Abby? Do you want me to stop?"

Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow but her eyes never left his.

"No...I'll die if you do."

His quick smile in the dim light made her heart lurch. She touched his face with both hands, loving the sight of him. His eyes gleamed like diamonds in the darkness but there was a gentleness along with the fiery passion that told her he was experiencing much more than mere physical pleasure.

"I--I want to touch you." She was astonished at her own words but the fire in his eyes took away any embarrassment. "Is that okay?"

"You can do anything you want, as long as you remember one thing."

"What's that?"

"I'm still recovering from a gunshot. So take it easy with me, okay?"

His smile was a flash of white in the dim lighting. His easy manner helped her relax.

"I promise," she whispered.

She kissed him, flicking her tongue against his, as she tentatively lowered one hand. He shifted his weight on the bed as he waited for her touch. When she hesitated, he took her hand and guided it over his erection.

Her fingers curled around him. The sharp intake of his breath and the way he shuddered made her glance quickly into his eyes.

"Am I hurting you?"

Kane shook his head and grinned, then sucked his breath through his clenched teeth when her feather light touch made the blood roar through him. "No, it doesn't hurt. It feels good."

Abby gently stroked him, awed by the heat pulsating through her hand. After a few moments, he caught her wrist and pressed her hand against his stomach to hold it still. "Easy, girl...take it slow…slow and easy…"

Abby nodded as she glanced from the fire in his eyes to his damp, heaving chest. He seemed to be very short of breath all of a sudden. She saw the muscles in his chest bunch and expand, saw him swallow hard and briefly close his eyes. She suspected something important was about to happen, but didn't know exactly what.

"Like this?" she asked, as she softly moved her fingers up and down his erection.

He nodded with his eyes closed and his head back, revealing the hammering pulse at the base of his throat.

"It's bigger than I thought."

She heard him laugh softly a moment before he lowered his head and kissed her again. "Now, how would you know? You've never seen one, remember?"

"I have now...the only one I've ever wanted to see…or touch."

Kane swallowed and exhaled deeply. The expression on her face was a combination of curiosity and desire. For a moment, he felt guilt surge through him. He took her face in both hands, drew her gaze up to his, and tried to focus on making his point, rather than the explosion he felt building inside him.

"Abby, if you're going to stop...now's the time to do it. Once I'm inside you, it'll be too late. There's a point where a man can't stop. So if you aren't sure about this, tell me now."

The gentleness in his voice and the concern for her welfare behind it almost brought tears to her eyes. She kissed him eagerly, then looked him straight in the eye.

"I don't want to stop. I want to make love with you…I want you to be the first man…I need you to be."

"Abby, I-I-"

Her lips cut off whatever he was going to say. She didn't want to hear that he did not return her feelings. "It doesn't matter. Just give me this one night," she whispered against his mouth.

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he moved one hand down her body and gently opened her thighs.

Abby gasped out loud when his fingers slipped inside her. He moved them in and out until she moaned softly and felt her body press against his hand as though it had a mind of its own.

"You're wet," she heard him say in a ragged tone.

"Is that good?"

"Uh-huh."

He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close as he rolled over, pulling her beneath him. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he looked down into her half-closed eyes as one knee opened her thighs.

She felt the hot pressure of his erection at the wet entrance of her virginity and gasped at both the pleasure and the resistance.

"Abby, are you sure…."

The clear hot, blue-eyed gaze she shot him between heated kisses made it obvious that she needed him as much in this moment as he needed her. Her body moved upward against him, hungrily searching for the resolution to those needs.

Her back arched against him with the penetration. It took her breath. For a long moment she couldn't breathe at all. All she could do was dig her nails into his back and gasp into the hollow of his shoulder.

She could hear his teeth gritting with the effort to hold still and let her body adjust to this intrusion. Every muscle in his body was strained to the limit, every nerve ending screaming.

Only a few moments passed, however, until the gnawing inside her gained control over everything else. Her body began to press boldly against his, urging him to continue.

Kane used every ounce of his experience to give her the pleasure she sought. Even though he was more accustomed to seeking his own pleasure, he was focused on Abby's needs, more than his own. It was an exhilarating experience, if not a foreign one.

She felt the raw power in his body and sensed he was holding back. She touched his face, felt his jaw muscles knot beneath her fingertips, felt his teeth nip lightly at her index finger when he sucked it into his mouth.

Their bodies began a slow, tantalizing climb toward a pinnacle Abby was totally unfamiliar with, and unprepared for. She gave a single cry when her body seemed to explode into fragments and arched hard against Kane, just in time to feel his own deliverance from the tornado of passion he'd been holding at bay.

She heard him groan as he spent himself deep inside her. For a moment neither of them moved, then he slowly moved off her, lay back at her side, and took her trembling body into his arms. She lay in the circle of his embrace, both of them gasping for breath, bathed in sweat, totally spent and at perfect peace. It had been everything she'd hoped for.

"Now," Kane said with a grin as he looked at her sleepy face on the pillow next to him. " What was it you wanted to talk about? You wanted to talk to me as I recall."

Abby smiled as she lovingly touched his cheek. She snuggled closer, put one hand on his sweaty, heaving chest, and leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

"We just did."

"That...wasn't talking."

"No, it was better than talking. Much better."

"Uh-huh. You are so right about that."

Abby smiled again. His eyes were closed, his breathing returning to a more normal rate. His heart beneath her hand was slowing down as well. His hair was tousled and hanging over his forehead in ebony waves. She searched every line of his face, devouring the sight, scent, and feel of him. She blinked back tears, knowing that this one night was all they'd ever have, and wondering if it meant anything at all to him, or if she had been just another woman willing to share his bed. It didn't matter, she reminded herself quietly as she drank in the sight of him.

He'd given her what she'd asked of him. It was enough. It had to be.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Abby turned from the window when Kane stirred in bed. She was sitting in the cane-backed chair at one side of the windows, staring down into the street below. It was very late but she couldn't sleep. The warm breeze fluttered the curtains and dried the tears on her cheeks as she turned her head to look at the man sleeping across the room.

He lay on his side with one arm outside the sheet. His hair fell over his forehead in ebony waves. It gave him the relaxed appearance of a little boy, she thought with a smile as she watched him sleep. She added that memory to her collection to reflect on later.

Later… when I wake up in Frederick's bed. She shuddered at the prospect of sharing a bed with Frederick. It had been an unappetizing thought at best, now it was unbearable. After this night in Kane's arms how can I bear Frederick's touch? How can I bear….Stop it, Abby. This night was supposed to answer those gnawing questions, not create more of them.

What happened to Papa was my fault. I must never forget that. He's right. It would never have happened if not for my foolishness and if marrying Frederick will help him forgive me, so be it. I have no choice…he's my father.

"Abby? What are you doing over there all by yourself?"

Kane's voice broke into her thoughts. She brushed the tears off her cheek before turning to look at him.

"I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to disturb you," she answered with a smile.

He was raised on one elbow, watching her with that heated gleam in his eyes that made her heart flutter. He brushed his hair back with his free hand while stifling a yawn.

"It must be late. Shouldn't you be getting home? Your mama's bound to be worried by now."

"Actually, she thinks I'm at Betsy's for the night. She knew I was feeling cooped up, and suggested I get away for awhile."

"I don't think this was what she had in mind."

'"No, I'm sure it wasn't, but sleeping with you is a lot more fun than sleeping with Betsy," she replied with a smile.

"I should hope so!"

She got up and walked across the floor toward the bed. The way his gaze followed her every movement made her acutely aware of her nakedness, but instead of modesty, she felt gloriously beautiful.

"Have you rested?"

Kane's brows rose at her sweetly posed question as she halted at the edge of the bed and stood looking down at him with a mischievous smile.

"Yeah, why?"

Abby lifted the sheet from around his shoulders and slid into the bed beside him. "So have I."

"Jeez, Abby, you're heartless. Wasn't the first three times enough for you? I'm a sick man."

Abby's laugh tinkled in the darkness as she pressed herself to him and moved her hands up his chest. "Poor baby, have I been too hard on you?"

His husky laugh was like music to her ears as he took her into his arms and nestled his face in the hollow of her neck. "I think that should be my question, but since the answer is obvious, what do you say we just forget conversation altogether?"

"And do what?"

"For openers, how about this?"

He kissed her then, deep and hard, as his hands once more began a slow, skillful exploration of her body that made her blood flame

When he took his lips from hers, she ran the tip of her tongue along the edge of his top lip, relishing both the taste that was uniquely his own and the feel of his mustache. "Mr. Darcy, you naughty boy. You're reading my mind again," she whispered against his mouth.

"Yeah? Well, let me warn you, missy, that if we don't stop this, one, or both of us is going to need Doc Weaver by morning."

'"Not trying to chicken out on me, are you, Mr. Darcy?"

"No, ma'am," he replied with a devious grin. "Just warning you, that's all"

"Warning noted. Now, where were we?"

As Kane's husky laugh echoed in her ears, Abby gave herself body and soul to the raging inferno her flesh became at his touch

It'll be morning in a few hours. There's not a minute to waste.

***

It was still dark hours later when Abby silently slipped from Kane's embrace. She dressed quickly in the shadowy room, then took time to pick up his scattered clothes and fold them neatly. When she was fully dressed once more, she paused beside the bed, watching him sleep for a moment.

Tears burned her eyes as she gently touched his cheek, feeling the stubble of beard that darkened his face and pricked her fingertips. He didn't stir, but continued sleeping peacefully as she leaned down to kiss his mouth.

"Goodbye, my love," she said aloud as she brushed tears from her eyes. Turning, she quickly left the room and reentered the world outside.

***

Kane awoke to someone pounding on his door. He turned over as his eyes popped open, looking for Abby. Realizing she had gone while he slept, he sat up with a groan. Then, at the insistent pounding on the door, he threw the sheet back and reached for his pants, lying neatly folded on the foot of the bed.

"Hold on, damn it! I'm coming!" he said as he walked toward the door while he fastened his trousers. "What the hell is so…."

The rest of his question faded into a moment of total silence when he flung the door open to find Amos Connors on the other side. The judge was grim faced, holding both a rifle and his double barreled shotgun.

"What the hell do you want?" Kane snapped.

Amos tossed him the Winchester. "Get your clothes on, boy. We've got work to do."

Kane caught the rifle instinctively. "Go to hell. I don't work for you anymore."

Amos cradled the shotgun across his arms while his cold blue eyes locked with Kane's hostile dark ones. "Yes, you do. I haven't given you permission to quit this job. You're still the marshal of this town, and there's a situation that requires your attention. So put your clothes on and let's get on with it."

"Don't you hear well? I'm not your lackey, Judge, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're going back to Yuma if you don't do what I tell you. You've still nine years and four months to serve, remember?"

"You're a cold blooded son-of-a-bitch! You know that?"

Amos flinched inwardly at the animosity in Kane's voice, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he motioned toward the hallway. "So I've been told. And I hear just fine. Now you hear this. I've given you a week to sulk and lick your wounds. Time's up. You don't like being my son? Tough! You're no prize either!"

"What?"

"You're a gunslinging, amoral, womanizing rogue, too damn good looking for your own good. I don't understand why, along with your mother's looks, you couldn't have inherited her better qualities, or some of mine, for that matter."

Amos pushed past him and walked into the room. He glanced around, then locating the rest of Kane's clothes on the foot of the bed, picked up his shirt and tossed it to him. "Time's wasting, boy, let's go."

Kane's mouth snapped shut as he caught the shirt in his free hand. He set the rifle down and shrugged into the shirt, pausing to glare at Amos as he buttoned it and tucked it into his pants. A moment later, he grunted when Amos tossed him his gun belt.

"What the hell do you know about my mother's qualities?" he snapped while he buckled the gun belt around his waist and tied it down. "You weren't around long enough to know shit! Except maybe how she was in the sack!"

"Watch your mouth, boy!" Amos commanded. His face had darkened with anger at Kane's crude remark. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the gun stock while he met Kane's furious stare. "Just because I wasn't around when you were growing up doesn't mean I can't kick your smart ass now. Your mother was a lady! Don't you ever forget it!"

The anger he allowed to surface made Kane's lips twitch in sudden amusement. Knowing the old man had reached his boiling point satisfied him somehow. And Amos' instantaneous defense of his mother, strangely, made him feel better.

"What kind of trouble are you talking about?" he asked as he reached to pick up his hat from the dresser where he'd tossed it the night before.

Amos suppressed a smile at Kane's skillful changing of the subject. Maybe this was all going to work out after all, he thought as he moved toward the door.

As an after thought, Kane walked back to the bed and pulled up the sheets. The blood stains left by Abby's lost virginity made his eyes darken as he covered them up.

It's a damn good thing you didn't see that Judge. Doc Weaver would probably have another patient with a stroke. And just where the hell are you, Abby? Why didn't you wake me up before you left?

Amos' impatient snort jerked him from his thoughts. He put on his hat, reached for the Winchester, and followed Amos into the hallway.

"Some of Greer's boys came into town a little while ago. About a half hour later a half dozen of Belter's boys came in too. They're all over at the saloon now, drinking, cussing each other. It's just a matter of time until some fool starts slinging lead."

Amos' explanation of the impending situation was delivered in his usual gruff, no nonsense tone as they walked side by side down the hallway and out the hotel lobby into the street. As they walked toward the saloon, both with their guns cradled across their arms, people on the boardwalk looked for cover.

"Did you love my mother?"

"Yes."

They walked side by side, not looking at each other, but focusing straight ahead to the group of cowboys hanging around the saloon's entrance, waiting for the shooting to start.

"Did you really try to find her?"

"Yes. For months."

"And you really knew nothing about me until after she died?"

"That's what I said, didn't I? Do you think I'd have let her go through that alone, if I'd known? Give me some credit, boy."

"Your affection for me really chokes me up, Judge," Kane said sarcastically. Amos glanced at him briefly. The tall, handsome man at his side was looking

straight ahead but Amos saw the muscles working madly in his jaw. Obviously, Kane

was not as composed as he wanted to appear.

"You're so full of shit, boy, it's no wonder your eyes are brown."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, that you want to know if I'd have married her if I'd known about you. You want to know something, boy, ask it."

"All right, would you?"

"In a heartbeat." Amos' gaze strayed back to Kane's grim profile. "I told you I loved her. That means I would have loved the child she carried as well. My child. My son."

Kane swallowed at the softer inflection in Amos' voice. "Too bad. Then I might have turned out to be what you wanted, Judge, maybe even made you proud."

"Who says I'm not proud?"

"Of a gunslinging, amoral, womanizing rogue? I doubt it."

Amos cleared his throat before he could speak over the lump that had formed there. The emotion he saw in Kane's eyes for the brief instant Kane glanced at him, made his eyes burn. He forced a grin as they stepped onto the saloon porch.

"Well, boy, nobody's perfect," he said as the cowboys standing around parted to allow them a path through.

They stepped into the saloon. It only took a moment to size up the situation. Greer's men were at one end of the room length bar, Belter's on the other. Both sides had been drinking pretty heavily since hitting town, judging from the array of empty glasses on the bar top. Tempers were heated and insults were flying when Kane and Amos moved further into the room.

"It's a little early to be drinking, isn't it, boys?" Amos asked to get their attention.

"You stay out of this, Judge. It ain't your concern," Belter's foreman said without taking his attention from their adversaries down the bar.

"It's my business if you boys start shooting up my town," Amos replied. "And from the looks of things, I'd say that was about a minute and a half away from happening."

"What are you gonna do about it?" a bleary eyed cowboy asked from the other end of the bar.

"Well, sir, let me tell you. The Belter boys among you are going to walk outside, get on your horses, and get out of town. The Greers are going to accompany me and the marshal here, over to the jail for a spell. Just to keep things friendly, you understand."

"Ain't gonna happen, Judge," the Belter foreman said.

The words had no more than left his mouth than he went for his gun. In seconds, a dozen shots rang out. Two of Greer's men went down in the first volley, three of Belter's in the second. Then both sides seemed to decide at the same time that they had a common enemy.

The shotgun in Amos' hands roared, spitting flame and smoke as the cowboys turned on them. Kane saw the Belter foreman's chest explode in the instant before he reacted. Holding the Winchester against his hip, he fired as quickly as he could flip the lever. From behind him, he heard the voice of another rifle but didn't have time to see who had come to their aid. When the cowboys threw down their weapons a few moments later, more than half of them were dead or wounded.

Amos lowered the smoking shotgun and paused to reload both barrels before turning to the group of townspeople huddling around the front door. "Somebody get Doc Weaver. You," he said motioning to a farmer. "You get the undertaker. Looks like he's going to have a busy afternoon."

Turning back, he glanced at Kane to make sure he was unharmed. "You okay, boy?"

'Fine, Judge," Kane said as he approached the bar with the Winchester poised at the remaining cowboys still on their feet. "All right, boys, let's try this again. This time, you can all go to jail. See how much easier this would've been if you'd listened to the judge in the first place?"

The amused quality of his voice made Amos shake his head. "Damned if I don't think you actually like this stuff," he commented as Kane rounded up the cowboys and herded them toward the front doors.

The glance Kane shot him was both amused and sarcastic. "Just doing what you told me, Judge. That is, after all, why I'm here, isn't it? To clean up this town? Keep the riffraff off the streets. Make Cimarron a safe place for women, children, and hound dogs. That is why you bailed my sorry ass out of Yuma, wasn't it?"

"Among other things," Amos replied dryly as he snapped the shotgun barrels into place and fell into step behind the prisoners. He paused beside the man who had come to their aid. "Thanks, stranger. Appreciate the help."

'My pleasure, Judge," the man answered as he placed his Winchester against the wall and sat back down at his table, where he'd been having a peaceful drink before the trouble started. He waited until Amos had moved on beyond hearing distance to add, "Can't have anybody putting holes in you, can I, Kane? Not when we still have unfinished business."

Kane flashed him a meaningful glance as he prodded one of the cowboys in the back with his rifle barrel. "We don't have any business, Wes, unfinished or otherwise."

Wes Carlin smiled as he dug out cigarette makings and rolled himself a smoke while Amos and Kane herded the prisoners out of the saloon and across the street to the jail.

"Now, that, my friend, is where you're mistaken. We have lots of business to talk about, and seeing as how I saw that fetching little filly with the yellow hair slipping out of your hotel room this morning just before dawn, I know just how to start the conversation."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"Friend of yours?" Amos asked as the iron cell door clanged shut behind the cowboys.

"Hardly," Kane answered curtly. He made sure the cell was securely locked, then turned around to find Amos leaning against the office desk. "I thought he was a friend of yours."

"Never saw him before. Nice of him to lend a hand though."

Kane didn't reply as he walked across the marshal's office and hung the cell keys on a nail beneath the desk.

"How about some breakfast? Nothing like a gunfight at dawn to whet a man's

appetite." The glance Kane threw him was indecisive. Taking that as a good sign, Amos pressed the advantage. "You got to be hungry. Up all night screwing your brains out, then shooting it out with a dozen cowboys before eight o'clock. You must be starving by now."

"What makes you think...."

"I'm not stupid, boy. There'd been a woman in your room, might've still been there if I'd taken the time to look around."

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

"I can smell it on you. That smell hangs on a man after a night of high spirited humping. Don't all that activity make you hungry?"

"Well, now that you mention it..." Kane said, trying to suppress a grin. The truth was his stomach was growling and the thought of a good meal strongly appealed to him, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to share that meal with Amos.

"I'm buying," Amos said to sweeten the offer. "Hell, I'll even pay for you a bath afterwards. God knows you need one. And a shave wouldn't hurt you either."

He reached out to rub the back of one hand across Kane's stubbled cheek. "How many times a day do you have to shave anyway? Must take after your mama's family."

"I wouldn't know. I never knew them."

Kane's voice lacked the sting it had contained earlier. His eyes met Amos' squarely as he pulled his hat down. "Did you? Know them, I mean?"

Amos shook his head as they both turned for the doorway. "No, never even met them. Our families didn't exactly move in the same circles. I wanted to ask your mama's pa for her hand, but she insisted that I didn't. Never really understood why, just always figured she was embarrassed because they were poor. Not that any of that mattered to me."

They stepped out onto the porch into the sweltering heat of another July morning. The previous day's rain had only increased the humidity and now the very street seemed to steam in the early morning sunshine.

"It mattered to your pa though, didn't it?"

Amos nodded as they walked up the boardwalk. "I'm afraid so."

"That why he wanted you to marry Mrs. Prescott?"

Amos glanced up at him in surprise. "Initially, yes. Deirdre's family was wealthy also. Her pa was a doctor, two of her brothers became doctors. But that wasn't why I became engaged to her."

"So how did she end up with a stinker like Mr. Prescott?"

Amos cleared his throat noisily. "After I broke our engagement, she began going out with Josiah. He'd been hanging around for years waiting for the right moment. She finally married him a couple of years after your mama disappeared. I'd like to think she's been happy all these years."

"You'd be kidding yourself."

"Why do you say that?"

Kane shrugged as he glanced at Amos' curious expression. "Like you said, I'm not stupid. It's in her voice when she talks about you. She still has feelings for you. That must've made Mr. Prescott nuts all these years."

"Josiah is a hard man," Amos admitted. "Deirdre is a fine woman. She's made him a good wife."

"That couldn't have been easy, what with the way she feels about you. Couldn't been easy for him either. I can't imagine loving a woman who I knew was in love with another man. I sure can't imagine living with her for twenty years."

"I doubt if you can imagine living with a woman for more than twenty minutes, or however long it takes you to do your business," Amos remarked dryly.

Kane put one hand over his heart and looked hurt. "Your Honor, I'm wounded. Twenty minutes? Give me more credit than that."

His soft chuckle made Amos' heart lighter. He had sorely missed these barbed exchanges with Kane during the past week. It was good to be able to talk to him again.

Kane's smile faded quickly at the sight of Abby standing on the mercantile's porch just ahead. It wasn't Abby that disturbed him, it was the fact that Frederick stood with his arm around her possessively as they approached.

"Good morning, Judge Connors, Mr. Darcy," Frederick greeted them cordially.

"Morning, Frederick. Abby," Amos replied.

"Good morning, Judge. Good morning, Mr. Darcy,"

Abby's voice was soft, her expression guarded when she met Kane's gaze. She had obviously been home, bathed, and changed into a red and white checked gingham dress with long sleeves and a high neckline.

Kane suspected the high collar was to cover up the evidence of last night's love making as his gaze flashed over her. Her hair was arranged in a mature upswept coiffure that added years to her age. He preferred it loose and hanging softly around her face. The image of it gleaming in the dim light of his hotel room while she cried out his name in the throes of orgasm whipped through his mind and he quickly looked away before anyone else could see it in his eyes.

"Miss Prescott, Mr. Gaston," he said as he tipped his hat to her.

'Nice day," Amos commented.

"It's an absolutely marvelous day, Judge," Frederick said with a big toothy smile. His arm tightened around Abby's shoulders. "Let us share our wonderful news with you. Abby has consented to become my wife. We both hope you'll attend the ceremony, Judge. September first is the date we've chosen. We originally planned the wedding for mid-October, but Abby didn't want to wait. What with her father being so ill, and all."

While Amos made the appropriate remarks, Kane stared at Abby's down turned face in shock. The pain he'd felt that day when the bank robber shot him was nothing compared to the one that tore through him now. For a moment, he couldn't get his breath. He felt the color drain from his face and actually felt his knees wobble.

"When did this happen?" he heard Amos ask Frederick through a haze.

"Just last evening," came Frederick's joyful reply. "What a night it's been."

"So it has."

Kane's remark was softly spoken, directed to Abby, but even the sweet sarcasm in his voice did not cause her to lift her head and look at him.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me, Mr. Darcy?"

Frederick's arrogant tone finally broke into Kane's jumbled thoughts. When he saw Frederick's outstretched hand, he looked incredulously at the younger man. The smirk on Frederick's face was almost too much to bear, but the swift, pleading expression in Abby's eyes when she finally shot him a direct glance stifled his instinctive desire to pound the boy's face into a bloody pulp.

He couldn't believe he was actually able to take Frederick's hand and mumble congratulations. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to keep his hand from trembling when he shook Frederick's hand.

"I guess the best man won, Mr. Darcy," Frederick said with that same arrogant smirk.

"I guess he did, Mr. Gaston. Well, if you will excuse me, I was just on my way to the bathhouse. Judge Connors pointed out that I seem to have a certain smell on me that needs to be washed off."

He tipped his hat to Abby in an exaggerated polite manner as he walked past her. His expression was nonchalant, but his eyes were filled with a mixture of confusion and anger that tore at her heart as he walked away.

"What about breakfast?" Amos asked cautiously when they had left Abby and Frederick behind.

"Some other time."

"Thought you were hungry"

"Not any more."

Amos stopped on the boardwalk as Kane made an abrupt turn into the bathhouse. He looked from the door Kane slammed in his face back to Abby, who still stood on the boardwalk in front of the store, looking after them wistfully.

***

"Sorry, boy,"

Kane glanced up at Amos with a deliberate nonchalant expression that fooled no one. "About what?"

Amos studied that inscrutable face in the steaming bathtub for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully. After finishing his breakfast, Amos had come back to the bath house to find Kane still in the tub scrubbing himself furiously. His whole body, at least what of it Amos could see above the soapy water, was red from his efforts.

"About Abby...and Frederick."

"Why would you be sorry about that?"

"Because you're obviously upset about it."

Kane laughed but it was a dry, hollow sound that contained little humor. "Where did you get that silly idea?"

"From the look on your face when Frederick announced their wedding plans. You looked like you were going to puke."

"You're imagining things, old man."

Kane tossed the bath sponge toward the foot of the tub, splattering soapy water onto Amos' shoes.

Amos calmly took out his handkerchief and wiped them clean. Replacing the handkerchief back into his inner vest pocket, he leveled a disbelieving stare at Kane. He had leaned back in the tub, placing the back of his head on the rim, and closed his eyes. At six foot three there was no way his frame would fit in the tub so his knees were bent, exposing two wet, hairy legs.

"Really?"

Kane opened one eye for a moment to stare at Amos' skeptical expression before shrugging. "Yeah, really. Why would I be upset because Miss Prescott chooses to marry that little horse turd?"

"Maybe she wouldn't have if she'd been given another alternative."

Amos studied the series of small bruises that cris-crossed Kane's throat. A tiny grin touched his lips at the sight of what he could swear were teeth marks on Kane's shoulder. Must've been some night, he thought wistfully. I can't remember a night like that for at least twenty years. He glanced at Kane again with a smile. Make that thirty years

"Yeah? Well, we all make choices, don't we?"

"Yes, we do, and we have to live with the consequences of them," Amos pointed out.

"If you're trying to make a point, Judge, make it. I'd prefer finishing my bath without an audience, if you don't mind."

Amos got to his feet from his perch on a long wooden bench placed against the wall. He moved a step closer to the tub, noting that Kane had not bothered to remove the bandage around his middle before getting into the water.

"My point, Kane, is that it's all right to admit that you hurt. You care about the girl, there's nothing wrong with that. So, do yourself a favor and admit it… to yourself at least."

He looked down into the water as a slow grin spread over his face. 'Well, I see that you do take after me in some respects."

Kane's eyes popped open at the remark, then his gaze followed Amos'. "You wish, old man!" he said with a grin as Amos chuckled on his way out.

When the door closed behind Amos, Kane leaned back in the hot water once more, willing it to ease his tense muscles, and knowing it would take more than a tub of bath water to ease the pain in his gut. He winced as the soapy water hit the scratches on his back left by Abby's nails. "Just what kind of game were you playing last night, Miss Prescott?" he asked out loud to the empty room. "I'll tell you what kind…the one called 'let's make a fool of Kane Darcy.' Well, I hope you're happy because you did one hell of a job. And I thought I knew women. I don't know shit evidently because you played me like a well-tuned fiddle. Damn! I knew I should've stuck to women I understand! One weak moment and wham! Right in the gut!"

He unwillingly allowed his thoughts to stray back to the morning he'd limped across the street to the Prescott's to hear Abby's profession of love for him. He snorted contemptuously at the memory.

"If that's what you call love, Miss Prescott, those working girls in the saloon have got you beat all to hell in the sincerity department. At least I've never had one of them say they love me in one breath and say 'I do' to somebody else in the next. God, what a sap I am! I should've known better."

He shook his head to clear the memory of Abby's passion-filled eyes and sweet mouth from his mind. Taking a deep breath, he held his nose and sank beneath the water. If only it were that easy to wash away the ache in his chest.

***

Abby gently wiped her father's chin with a napkin and offered him another spoonful of soup. Tears burned her eyes at the pathetic sight he made. His once strong body was now a misshapen lump beneath the covers, his left hand lying useless by his side. Only his right eye revealed any emotion but what she saw there made Abby guilty and uneasy.

Josiah's persistent grunts made her put the bowl and spoon on the bedside tray. He clutched at her wrist with his right hand, gurgling furiously.

"Yes, Papa, I told Frederick last night that I'd marry him. Right away, just like you want. In fact, we've set a September first date. Mama and Mrs. Gaston are already planning like mad. You know how mama is when she has a project to work on."

She paused with a forced smile. Indeed, it was true that Deirdre and Mrs. Gaston had been huddling together all morning making plans. A dress had to be designed and made, a menu had to be planned for the reception, a guest list had to be prepared and invitations sent out. It was enough to keep them all busy for the five weeks before the wedding. If they accomplished everything on their list of chores in time for the ceremony, it would be a minor miracle, but Abby knew her mother would work night and day to have everything ready.

Even if she wasn't exactly convinced that Abby was doing the right thing. Abby touched the sheets of paper in her pocket again. Carrying them around was the only way she knew to stay focused on what she had to do. Without her written duty, she might have faltered. With it, she was constantly reminded of the promise she'd made her father.

Josiah relaxed against the pillows and patted her hand. His eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep, leaving Abby to sit beside him and remind herself that she was responsible for this horrific circumstance.

It took all her strength to keep from remembering the expression on Kane's face when Frederick announced their plans. The disbelief had been combined with something she was almost certain was pain for that brief instant before he recovered and hid his true feelings beneath that cool facade he used as a weapon.

She could only be thankful that he didn't know the true extent of her feelings. She was sure he thought she had used him to live out her fantasies before making a lifetime commitment, and he was absolutely correct. She could only pray that when Frederick took her in his arms on their wedding night that she would be able to respond to him appropriately.

Giving a bitter laugh as she gathered up her father's lunch dishes, she knew that was more of a fantasy than anything else she had done in the past twenty-four hours. Even if I 'm married to Frederick for the next fifty years, there will never be a time when we make love that I won 't think of you Kane. It will be you in my heart, in my thoughts… you that I love.

As she paused by the bedroom window, she saw Frederick coming across the street with that purposeful expression that she knew so well. "Good Lord, he's coming over here."

She hurried through the house, dumped the lunch tray on the kitchen table, and raced for the back door. Scampering down the staircase, she gave a thankful sigh when she saw that Frederick had been detained by a well-wisher. It gave her time to make her escape around the back of the house into the trees beyond.

In only a few minutes she was walking briskly toward the stream that ran alongside the cemetery. Slowly her breathing returned to normal and her heart rate slowed. "Thank God for this place," she said aloud as she drew close to the huge oak on the bank. "I can't face another minute of Frederick's enthusiasm right now. I have to have some time to think, to figure out how I'm going to be able to face Kane day after day. How I'm going to live without him in my life."

Her voice broke before she finished speaking. She sank down onto the bed of grass beneath the oak and let the tears come freely. At the moment, it was all she knew to do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Abby had cried herself out when she heard the horse coming up the road. She quickly sat upright and wiped at her eyes, sure that it was Frederick coming to find her. Groaning from the lack of privacy, she heaved a heavy sigh of resignation and waited for him.

"Well, well, what's wrong with the happy bride? Can't decide which wedding dress to make for the big occasion? Oh, I forgot, white is for virgins, isn't it? You don't very well qualify do you?"

Kane's sarcastic voice broke into her thoughts, causing her to snap around in surprise. He was seated on the bay gelding, his hat pulled down against the bright sunlight in a manner that made him look menacing. He folded both hands across the saddle horn while his dark eyes gleamed with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.

When she didn't reply, he snorted. "Just what do you plan to tell Frederick on your wedding night when he discovers that you're not quite the pure, virgin bride he's expecting? You gonna tell him the truth? That you spent the night you became engaged to him with another man? Fucking your brains out?"

Abby winced at both his tone and his choice of words. She had never heard him speak so crudely before and the term both surprised and embarrassed her. She felt her face drain of all color, then fill up again quickly with a beet red flush.

"Must you be so crude?"

Kane's laugh was humorless. His eyes had narrowed to diamond bright slits of contempt as he pinned that direct, merciless gaze on her.

"Give me a break, Miss Prescott. My crudeness is what you came looking for last night, wasn't it?"

"I-I-I-"

"You know, lady, I can't figure you out. I had this crazy idea last night when you came looking for me that you'd come to the conclusion that you and me... that we... oh, hell, it doesn't matter anyway. You got what you were looking for. I guess that's all that really matters, isn't it?"

The hurt in his voice was more clear to Abby than the contempt he was trying to project. She could see beyond the anger in his eyes to the confusion behind it. What she saw made her mouth dry and her palms sweat.

"If that's what you think, why did you come out here?" she whispered, wishing she could break contact with his hot gaze.

"Because I want to know…just what the hell last night was all about!"

The saddle squeaked beneath him when he shifted his weight. For a terrifying moment, Abby was afraid he was going to dismount and approach her. She unwittingly backed up a few steps in preparation to flee if he did.

The movement was not lost on Kane. He watched her back away with a hollow feeling in his gut. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her and it was obvious that he had done just that.

"Last night was about two grown-up people who wanted to be together," she said in a strained tone while she watched him warily. "And you got as well as you gave, Mr. Darcy. Beyond that, I don't owe you any explanation."

Kane's handsome face twisted into a sarcastic smile as he tipped his hat to her. "Yes, ma'am," he drawled. "You might pass that along to Frederick when he wants to know just where the hell you learned all the things you've got to show him on your wedding night. Although I doubt he'll be very grateful when he finds out it was my bed you've been in."

Abby's eyes burned but she blinked back the tears. She deserved every unkind thing he'd said, but it was little consolation. Her knees felt weak and wobbly as she stared up at him in the mid-afternoon sun. He'd never looked more dangerous than he did at this moment, nor more desirable. Her head ached with the contradiction.

Kane began to turn the bay, flashing her one last contemptuous glance, when from out of the trees alongside the road five riders suddenly appeared. Their guns were drawn, all five rifles pointed squarely at Kane. Even so, his fingers twitched with the instinctive urge to draw his gun.

"Don't be a fool, Kane." Wes Carlin's smooth voice was full of amusement as he maneuvered his mount around so that he was facing Kane directly. "What good will it do if you force me to kill you?"

He paused, then turned to look at Abby. A big grin came to his lips as he tipped his hat to her politely. "Let me make this crystal clear to you, Kane. See, even if you die out here this afternoon, me and the boys are still going to take that bank. And, we'll have the girl."

He glanced around at Abby again, then turned back to Kane with no trace of humor in his manner. "She is a pretty thing, ain't she? She's got the kind of shape I'd like to know better. Now, the question is, are you going to do what I say, or, are you going to force me to give the girl to my boys?"

"If you or any of these mangy coyotes lay as much as one finger on her, Wes, I swear to God, I'll tear your heart out!"

Kane's words were softly spoken, so softly that Abby had to strain to hear them, but the expression on his face left no room for doubt. Still, Wes Carlin laughed good-naturedly as he glanced around at his men.

"Now, Kane, let's be reasonable. I know how good you are with that Colt. Hell, I probably know it better than most, after all we did ride together for a spell. But take a look around, my friend. There's five Winchesters aimed at you. I can give the word and you'll be dead before you hit the ground. And what good is that going to do pretty little missy over there?

"Or I could just shoot you a couple of times, then let you watch while the boys take turns with her."

He gave an evil chuckle as he watched the struggle for control in Kane's eyes. He knew Kane well enough to know that he was very close to crossing the line between reason and pure instinct. That wasn't in Wes' plans at the moment.

"I don't want to hurt you, Kane. I don't want to have to hurt the girl. You do what I tell you, and everybody rides off happy. What do you say?"

Kane shot a glance at Abby's pale, terrified face and let out a resigned breath. The odds were not good, but he'd been up against worse. But then he'd never had Abby at risk before. That fact alone left him little choice.

"Just what the hell is it you want from me?"

"You know what I want, Kane. I want the money from the Cimarron bank vault. You ride into town, get it, bring it back to me, and everybody will be happy. Of course, I'll keep the girl until you come back with the money. Just to make sure you don't get too creative."

Kane longed to erase the smirk from Wes' arrogant face, but knew this wasn't the time.

Later, when Abby's in the clear...

"I don't see that I have much choice," he said aloud. "All right, Wes, I'll rob the damned bank for you, but you make damned sure that nobody lays a hand on her while I'm doing it. Understand?"

"Perfectly, my friend. Hold up your end and she'll be as safe as a babe in its mama's arms. We'll be at the Belter line shack out near Rattlebone Ridge. Meet us there before dark. And, Kane," he added with a meaningful smirk. "Don't be late. You don't want the boys getting bored, now do you?"

"I want to talk to her first."

"Anything you have to say to her can wait until you bring me the money. You better get started. It's damned near two o'clock now."

Kane swallowed hard at the terrified expression on Abby's face. There was no way he could convey to her any comfort or assurance. Anything he said would be a lie anyway. He knew Wes Carlin too well to hope this was all going to turn out okay in the end.

All he could do was watch while Wes rode over to Abby, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up onto the horse in front of him. The possessive arm Wes wrapped around her waist made the blood roar through his veins, but the fleeting look of panic that crossed her face made him sick at his stomach.

"Kane..." she called as Wes turned his horse. "Kane…please...be careful."

"Ain't that sweet?" Wes smirked. "Better listen to her, Kane, and be careful. We sure don't want anything happening to you until you deliver that money. Remember...no money...this little gal's gonna pay the price."

The sinister chuckle he let out as they rode away made Kane's blood run cold. He sat on the bay in the middle of the road, trying to think, but all he could see was the terror in Abby's eyes as Wes rode away with her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Abby shrank away from Wes Carlin's sweaty arm around her waist, but it did no good. The outlaw merely chuckled in her ear and tightened his grip.

"No need to be so unfriendly, missy," he said in that taunting voice that she had already come to fear.

"Keep your hands to yourself, mister!"

"I bet you don't say that to Kane, now do you?"

"What I say to Kane is none of your business!"

She clutched the saddle horn as the horses picked up speed. Cimarron was left far behind as the afternoon wore on, and her fear steadily increased. She had not been able to identify the man's face, but his voice, with its drawl seemed vaguely familiar. She felt sure she had met him somewhere before but was at a loss as to the circumstances.

The Texas sun beat down mercilessly on her as they rode deeper into the plains country. She was hot and sweaty and so frightened she thought her heart might burst through her chest. So far none of the outlaws had made advances toward her, but then they had only stopped long enough to rest the horses one time since leaving Cimarron. She knew she wasn't out of danger by any stretch of the imagination, and she could only envision what was happening back in town.

"Looked to me like the two of you weren't too happy with each other back there before we interrupted," Wes observed as they rode along. "Matter of fact, looked like Kane was pretty damn mad about something."

When she refused to speak, he grinned and shifted the hand resting around her waist a little higher. Her immediate attempt to move it, made him laugh out loud. "Relax, missy. I ain't hurting you none, just don't want you to fall off the horse. Can't have that, now can we?"

"Then just put me down and you won't have to worry about it."

"You got spunk, missy. I like that. Kinda surprising for a well bred city gal. That's what I can't figure about you and Kane. The only women he's ever showed any interest in have been whores. So you can imagine how surprised I was to see you slipping out of his hotel room around dawn this morning."

"You really need to find a better hobby."

Wes laughed again as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Maybe I will, and maybe you'll be it, missy."

The sinister implications in his remark made her skin crawl and her heart began to pound even harder. "You heard what Kane said. You touch me and you'll wish you hadn't!"

The bravado in her tone made Wes' brows arch. "No sir, you ain't Kane's type at all. Not at all. I can't figure what's come over him since Yuma. Not that you ain't a fine piece of female. Yes, ma'am, you're prime filly all right, but I recall that he has a thing about girls like you. Never known him to get close to one before."

"Maybe his taste is improving."

"Must be," Wes agreed with another chuckle.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue around the outside of her ear, laughing when she jerked away with a horrified gasp. "I wonder how good you'd look to him after the boys passed you around a couple of times? He might decide that you ain't worth the effort of maybe getting himself killed. What do you think about that, missy?"

Abby was too scared to answer his question, even if she'd had an answer. She'd been asking herself the same thing for the past two hours.

***

Kane dismounted in front of the bank and draped the reins over the hitching rail. He stared at the bank entrance for a moment, then glanced over at Amos' office. His mind made up, he walked briskly up the boardwalk and into the office.

The pleased smile that came immediately to Amos' face faded quickly at the sight of Kane's grim expression.

"What's the matter, boy? You okay?"

Kane nodded as he walked across the room and approached the desk where Amos sat amid piles of documents. Halting a few steps from the desk, he drew a deep breath and exhaled, trying to find the words to relate his reason for this visit.

"I don't know how to say this except just…say it." His voice was taut, his features strained with tension. His eyes were the bleakest Amos had ever seen them. As he finished the sentence, he was pulling his pistol. A moment later Amos was staring down the barrel of his Colt.

"What the...?" Amos exclaimed as his gaze flashed from the gun to Kane's face and back again. "What's got into you, boy? Put that thing away!"

"Sorry, Judge, I can't. Look, I don't have time to explain. I just came to tell you…"

"Whatever you want to tell me, Kane, you can do it without the artillery. You know damn well that I'm not fool enough to argue with a man with a gun in his hand, especially one who can use it as well as you."

Amos' tone was calm as he leaned back in his chair. A sliver of fear ran through him at Kane's manner. It wasn't the gun that he feared, but the haunted expression in Kane's eyes.

"I also know you have a pistol in the top drawer of your desk," Kane pointed out. "And after I tell you what I came here to say, you're going to be mighty tempted to try for it. Don't. Don't make me do something we'll both regret."

"Why don't you just tell me what the problem is. Then I'll decide if I feel obligated to shoot it out with you."

Amos' attempt to lighten the mood didn't work. Kane's lips tightened as the gun in his hand shook slightly.

"I'm going to rob the bank."

Amos sat upright, his mouth open with astonishment. For a minute he thought Kane was joking, but the expression on his face was dead serious.

"Son, if you need money that bad, I'm sure I can give you a raise. Bank robbery is a bit extreme, don't you think?"

In spite of the situation, Kane's lips twitched with humor at Amos' reaction. "It's not for me, you old fart. It's for Abby."

Amos reached into his coat pocket, produced a cigar, and lit it before he replied. He exhaled a plume of gray smoke and squinted at Kane through it. "Her wedding costing that much, is it?"

"Hell no, that's not it."

"Put the gun away, boy, and then tell me just what the hell is going on."

Kane slowly lowered the weapon, released the hammer, then slid it back into his holster. With a heavy sigh, he hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt and leveled that dark intense stare at Amos.

"She's been kidnapped. The only way I can get her back is by robbing the bank. I've got to have the money before nightfall. If I don't...."

"You better explain, boy, and be quick about it," Amos barked as he got up from the desk. By the time Kane had told him about Wes Carlin and his plans, Amos had pulled on his hat and taken the pistol from the desk drawer.

"I thought you said you didn't know him," he said as he headed toward the door.

"No, I said he wasn't a friend of mine."

"Where do you know him from?"

"We rode together a while back, before Yuma, then he ended up there too. He just got out."

"You really need to make better friends, boy," Amos said as he flung open the door and stepped outside. "How much danger is Abby in?"

Kane's uneasy expression answered the question.

"All right, that doesn't leave us much choice. Let's go."

"Where?"

"To the bank, of course."

Kane caught Amos' arm, halting him. Amos turned to look up at him, puzzled at the gesture.

"Wait a minute, Judge. I don't want you involved, okay? I just told you so maybe you'd give me a head start before you set the Rangers on me. That's all."

"I'm already involved, boy. Your trouble is my trouble, don't you realize that

yet?"

Kane swallowed at both the expression on the older man's face, and the way his

tone softened with the statement. He slowly took his hand from Amos' arm as he stared at him in amazement.

"Look, it's bad enough that I got myself, and Abby, into this mess. I won't be responsible for involving you too. I can handle it."

"You ever rob a bank before, boy?"

"No, but how hard can it be?"

Amos chuckled as they walked toward the bank. "Well, Wes Carlin didn't have the balls to do on his own, did he? He orchestrated a situation where you'd have to do the dirty work for him. That means he's a coward. Also means he knows you're not. Also means he knew just how to pull your strings, boy."

Kane snorted. "I should've just agreed to do it when he first approached me. I should've known he wouldn't give up so easily."

"And maybe gotten yourself killed ? No, boy, you did the right thing."

"By causing Abby to be involved now? And you? No, that's not right!"

"It's too late to beat yourself up about it, Kane. It's done and we've got to deal with it the way Carlin's laid it out. Now, let me do the talking."

Amos pushed the bank door open and led the way inside. Pausing at the nearest cashier window, he motioned for the young man to come out from behind the counter. "Go get Mrs. Prescott, Johnny, and do it quickly."

The young man whipped off his visored cap and bolted for the door as Amos turned to Kane. 'We may as well explain this one time and be done with it. Deirdre will have to know and I'd rather her hear from you than get it second hand."

Kane nodded in agreement. His eyes narrowed as Frederick and his father came from the bank president's office in the back of the building. The expression on Frederick's face made his blood pressure soar. But there was no time to dwell on Frederick's arrogance now.

"Frederick, Mrs. Prescott is on her way here. When she arrives, please lock the front door so we won't be disturbed," Amos directed in a manner than left no room for argument. Even Frederick understood.

"What's this all about, Amos?" the senior Mr. Gaston asked as he straightened his tie and adjusted his expensive vest.

"I'll explain everything in a moment, Wilford. Just as soon as Deirdre gets here."

"It better be important," Frederick snapped. "You're interrupting business."

"If it wasn't important, Frederick, we wouldn't be here," Amos replied as he reached out to catch Kane's forearm in anticipation of an explosion. Turning, he glanced at Kane's strained features. "Easy, boy. Take a deep breath."

By the time he'd finished the admonition, Deirdre came bursting through the door with the young cashier. Frederick hurried to lock the door behind her and pull down the shade, then came back to his father to find out the reason for this intrusion.

When everyone had gathered, waiting to hear what Amos had to say, he looked at Kane and nodded. "All boy, you've got their attention. Say what you need to."

"Here it is, Mr. Gaston. Abby's been take hostage. The ransom is the money in the bank vault. I'm here to take it."

Wilford Gaston turned disbelieving eyes, first to his son, then to Amos. "What kind of joke is this, Amos? It's damned sure not funny."

"It isn't intended to be, Wilford." Amos turned to Deirdre, who looked like she was going to faint. "I'm sorry, Deirdre. I didn't know how else to tell you to make sure you got the straight of it."

"You don't believe him, do you?"

Frederick's tone was as haughty as the expression on his face. He pointed at Kane as he looked around at the others. "This man is a convicted felon. You can't believe anything he says!"

"I don't give a damn what you believe. Abby has been kidnapped by one of the most dangerous men I've ever met, you stupid... Now give me the damn money!"

The venom in Kane's voice sent the blood draining from Frederick's face. One look into Kane's glittering eyes told him more than he wanted to know. The two of them stared at each other angrily while Amos quickly explained the situation.

"Amos, there's close to fifty thousand dollars in the vault," Wilford Gaston said with a white face and shaking hands when Amos finished. "That money is every cent the people in this town have to their names. I'm responsible for it. I can't just let...."

"Do you want to be responsible for what happens to Abby if that money is not delivered on time?" Amos snapped.

"You said this man had been in prison," Deirdre said as she stared up into Kane's eyes. 'What...what was he in prison for?"

'He killed someone, Mrs. Prescott," Kane said. He wished he could put it more gently but the clock was ticking. "A young girl... after he raped her."

The soft gasp Deirdre gave out was so full of horror that it made him sick at his stomach. "And my Abby is in the hands of this man?" she whispered hoarsely. "Dear God, Mr. Darcy, you have to save her."

"I intend to, ma'am, just as soon as Mr. Gaston gives me the money."

Wilford Gaston snapped his fingers at the eldest of the cashiers, a middle-aged man with gray hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. "Conley, give the man what he needs, and be quick about it. My future daughter-in-law's life may be at stake. There isn't a moment to lose."

While the man hurried to the back of the room to take the money from the vault, Kane flashed Wilford a grateful glance.

"Thank you, Wilford," Deirdre said as she placed a trembling hand on his arm. "I'll be forever in your debt."

"Nonsense, Deirdre. We have to get our Abigail back safely. What's mere money compared to her life?"

"Every attempt will be made to recover the money as well, Wilford," Amos assured him with a tight smile. "After Abby's safe."

"We'll be lucky if he doesn't take the money himself and high-tail it for Mexico," Frederick snorted with a glare at Kane. "I'm going with him, just to make sure he doesn't."

"The hell you are!"

"You can't stop me, Mr. Darcy! Abby is my fiancé. There is no way I'm going to leave her fate in your hands. She wouldn't be in danger now, if it weren't for you! This outlaw is, after all, an old acquaintance of yours, isn't he? You brought this trouble upon us. It's all your fault!"

"You think I don't know that?" Kane snapped, pinning Frederick with a flashing gaze. "Do you think I wouldn't give anything to protect her?"

"Well, you certainly haven't done it, have you? You sat there and let those criminals ride off with her, didn't you? You didn't even try to stop them!"

"That's enough, Frederick!" Amos snarled, stepping between them. The expression on Kane's face was murderous and although Amos personally thought Frederick deserved a sound thrashing, this was not the time for it. "Obviously, you've never looked down the barrel of five Winchesters, young man. Only a foolish man would've reacted the way you're talking about. Had Kane done that, not only would he be dead at this moment, Carlin would still have Abby, and when his gang came blasting into town to rob this bank, he wouldn't have cared how many of you he killed in the process."

"That's right, Frederick," Deirdre spoke up as she forced a tight trembly smile at Kane. "Mr. Darcy did the only thing he could. Men like Carlin have to be dealt with cautiously, a frontal attack would only result in disaster."

Kane swallowed hard and felt his eyes burn. Deirdre Prescott's softly spoken profession of faith in him made him feel funny. A glance at Amos' proud expression as he exchanged glances with her, told him the judge felt it too.

Mr. Conley reappeared with a sack which he handed to Kane skeptically. He moved back quickly as though afraid Mr. Gaston might change his mind at any moment and want it back.

Deirdre put her hand on Kane's arm as he turned toward the door with the money "Mr. Darcy, I know you'll do everything you can to save her. Please, be careful, and take care of my daughter."

Kane nodded and swallowed again. He couldn't speak for the lump in his throat as he walked toward the door. As he reached for the door knob, Frederick grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around.

"I said I'm going with you!"

"You're staying right here where you won't be in my way."

"I can ride, and I can shoot."

"And you can get yourself killed, and maybe Abby too. I'm not willing to take that

chance. Now, get out of my way."

"If anything happens to her, Darcy, you'll have to answer to me!"

"Frederick, your threats are the least of my worries."

"And you keep your mangy paws off her! I've seen the way you look at her! You're no better than that renegade that took her! You're trash, Darcy, plain ole…"

Frederick didn't finish the insult. Kane's right hand closed into a fist that smashed into his face. He went down in a mass of twisted arms and legs at Kane's feet. Ignoring the shocked gasps behind him, Kane stepped over Frederick's immobile body and flung open the door.

"That's the only good thing that's happened today," he said aloud as he shook his hand and flexed his fingers to make sure they weren't broken.

He stuffed the money into his saddle bag and unwrapped the reins. He was about to mount when Amos' voice at his shoulder made him pause.

"I want the truth, Kane. What are the chances that either of you is going to come back from this?"

Kane swung up onto the bay before directing a straight gaze at the old man squinting up at him through the afternoon sunlight. "Not good, Your Honor." The pained expression that came to Amos' face sent a stab of regret through him. "You wanted the truth, didn't you? Well, the truth is, that Wes Carlin is as dangerous a man as I've ever met. He's riding with four more just like him. If he hasn't already raped Abby and passed her around to the others, it's only a matter of time. I figure he's waiting till I show up with the money. He mentioned something about shooting me and letting me watch."

He swallowed again and forced a tight smile at Amos' dismayed face. "You look like you're going to puke, old man. Don't look so unhappy. It's not over yet."

"I'll send a telegram to the Rangers. Get you some help."

"Give me twenty four hours. If we're not back by then, hell, you can send anybody you want. It won't make any difference."

"Don't you go getting yourself killed, boy. We've still got unresolved issues between us. I'd like the chance to settle things."

Kane grinned as he pulled his hat down against the sun's glare. "What's to settle, Your Honor? You're my father. I'm your son. That about covers it, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, maybe it does at that. You take care of yourself, boy."

Kane nodded as he began turning the horse. "I'll do my very best, Judge. Hell, I want to see the shiner that little cocksucker's going to have. I'd hate to think I've busted my hand for nothing."

He flashed Amos a confident grin as he touched his heels to the bay's flanks. A few moments later he had faded in the sun's glare, leaving Amos standing on the boardwalk, shaking with fear that he'd never see his son alive again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Abby shivered and shrank back against the cane-backed chair. Dusk was falling on the line shack at the top of the ridge. She glanced around the small enclosure for the thousandth time since arriving hours before. It was a tiny building, thrown together of rough lumber with sunlight visible through the cracks between the planks. It had not been used in some time, if the musty smell was any indication, she thought nervously. Everything had a thick layer of dust over it, but her companions didn't seem to mind the dirt or the mosquitoes buzzing around the lamp sputtering on the lone table in the center of the room.

Her wrists were chafed from the rawhide binding that tied her hands to the rungs of the chair. She desperately wanted a drink of water but decided she wasn't as thirsty as she thought after seeing one of the outlaws drink from his canteen. Water trickled down his unshaven chin, which he wiped off with a dirty shirt sleeve.

They were a loathsome group, she thought as her gaze leaped from one to the next. Besides Wes Carlin, there were four other men even more unkempt and, she suspected, amoral as he. After being in their company for the afternoon, she had their faces and names emblazoned on her memory. Knowing that her descriptions would be crucial to their convictions when they were captured, she made meticulous mental notes so she would not leave out anything important when giving her report to the authorities.

If I ever have the opportunity, she thought worriedly. A swift glance out the shack's cracked window revealed the setting sun. Time was running out.

As if reading her mind, Wes got up from the table where he and three of the outlaws were playing cards and came to where she sat. He dropped to his heels in front of her while he checked her bindings.

"Getting nervous, missy?"

Abby dealt him a scathing glance, forcing herself to maintain contact with those icy blue eyes. She'd never seen a man with colder eyes than these. To hope for mercy from this man was useless, she'd known that almost from the beginning. A man with eyes like this wouldn't give a moment's thought to killing her...or worse.

"Should I be?" she retorted. The sarcasm she had hoped for came out sounding hollow and frightened.

Wes grinned as he lifted her chin with a grimy forefinger so she was forced to look directly at him. "You tell me. You know better than anybody whether or not Kane will show up with the money."

She bit her lip and averted her gaze from his laughing face. After this morning, she wasn't sure what Kane would do. Was he angry enough with her to let her face the fate that awaited her if he didn't show up with the money?

"There was a time when I'd have said he'd let you take the consequences, but he's changed since I saw him last. He's gone soft…lost his edge. And, I suspect, you're the reason for that, missy."

The glare she sent him, only made him laugh again. His gaze flickered lazily over her as if preparing a mental menu of how to devour her. The expression on his face made her skin crawl.

"When a man loses his edge it's usually over a woman. I just never thought Kane would be that stupid, but I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. A man with his aversion to decent womenfolk...makes sense that if he ever fell for one, he'd fall hard. And, it sure looks to me like that's just what's happened."

Abby bit her lip again to keep from saying something foolish, but hope leaped in her chest.

"Too bad," Wes was saying as he dropped his finger from her chin and drew it slowly down the front of her dress. "He should've stuck to his own kind. Whores know their place. Girls like you? You expect too damned much. You want things from a man that he can't give, and then he chews himself up inside because he can't. Hell, killing Kane will be doing him a favor, put him out of his misery, so to speak."

"You intend to kill him even if he does bring the money?" Abby's voice was a hoarse whisper while she stared at him with wide frightened eyes.

"Kane holds a grudge too damned long to let him walk away, missy. I'd be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life. I don't plan on doing that."

"That means you'll have to kill me too."

The grin on Wes' face increased as he deftly opened the top button of her bodice. "Well, now, missy, that depends on you. If you were to...get a little friendlier...I might decide to take you with me when I leave here."

"No thanks. I'd rather die with Kane."

Wes shrugged as he got to his feet. "Up to you. Course, that don't mean the boys won't have something to say about it. They've been looking you over pretty good. I don't think they're going to be satisfied with the money. I think they're going to want you for a bonus. Me? I like to keep my boys happy."

Abby felt the color drain from her face as he laughed. When he turned back to the table and took his seat again, she bit her lip until she tasted blood. Tears burned her eyes but she blinked them back. Tears were useless now. She had to think. There had to be something she could do. Twisting against the rawhide that held her bound securely, she choked back a sob, knowing that Kane was walking into a trap, and there wasn't a thing she could do to warn him, or to help him.

***

An hour crept by as darkness settled over the shack. Wes began to pace the floor, growing more agitated by the minute. The other three men had stopped playing cards and began drinking instead about sundown. The forth man, she suspected, had been posted outside somewhere, probably to alert them when Kane arrived.

Abby was rather surprised that Wes didn't stop their drinking, but it dawned on her finally that Wes Carlin didn't intend to share the money with anyone. He intended to kill Kane, and his men, and the fact that they were half drunk would only make it easier when the time came. What he had in mind for her was too horrific to think about, so she forced those images to the back of her mind, concentrating instead on loosening her bounds.

Unfortunately, rawhide did not give easily and after an hour of struggling, all she had accomplished was cutting herself until her wrists were sticky with blood.

"He ain't comin', Wes," one of the outlaws complained as he lurched out of his chair.

"He'll be here."

"How do you know? Hell, it's an hour after dark and he ain't showed."

Wes glanced around at Abby with a smile that held little humor. "I told you, he'll show. He ain't going to let anything happen to that little gal."

"Maybe he got hisself killed robbing the bank," another of the men suggested.

Abby's heart lurched in her chest. That possibility had not occurred to her.

"I doubt it," Wes replied. "Kane can be real convincing when he wants to. And with the motivation he's got, hell, Saint Peter himself couldn't keep him from getting that money."

"You got a lot of confidence in a man who'd just as soon shoot you as look at you," the third man said as he poured them all another drink.

"It ain't confidence, Lou. I know the man. He'll be here and he'll have the money. Count on it."

The man he'd addressed set his glass down on the table while pinning a glazed stare at Abby. "Well, I'm tired of waiting. I say we have some fun with the gal till he gets here."

"You heard what he said, Lou. Touch her and he'll kill you. He wasn't talking to hear his head rattle. He meant it."

"You scared of him, Wes?" one of the others asked with a chuckle.

The expression on Wes' face could have frozen a running stream. It took the smirks off the outlaws' faces immediately and made them shuffle uneasily in their chairs.

"Scared? No, I ain't scared, but I got sense enough to have a healthy respect for a man who can handle a Colt the way Kane Darcy does. You'd be smart to develop a little of that respect yourselves."

"Hell, Wes," one of them laughed nervously. "We ain't never been smart."

Abby couldn't have agreed more as she watched them toss back another round of whiskey. If they kept on drinking like this they'd never know what hit them. It also made them more dangerous in the meantime.

The man who'd gotten up from the table earlier was standing near the window. Now he lifted his rifle as he motioned to Wes. "He's coming up the trail, but he's walking. Wonder what happened to his horse. You want me to pick him off?"

Abby's breath froze in her throat while Wes thought it over. When he finally shook his head, she exhaled and closed her eyes in thankful prayer.

"No, let him come in. He's earned the right to die better than that."

Abby listened in the eerie silence that followed. A few moments later she heard Kane's footsteps at the shack entrance. A few seconds later Wes swung the door open and motioned him inside.

Abby's heart pounded at the sight of him. A sob of fear choked her, knowing what Wes had planned, but the nonchalant manner with which he entered the building almost gave her hope.

He was hot and sweaty. Not a stitch on him was dry, as though he'd been walking a long way in the heat. He was carrying a large canvass bag at his side, which he briefly held up for Wes' inspection.

"You're late. We were getting concerned," Wes said with a sly grin as he motioned with his pistol for Kane to come into the room.

"I ran into a little trouble on the trail. My horse threw a shoe. I've been walking for the past two hours."

Kane's voice was clipped, he was clearly not in the mood for friendly conversation as he moved into the room and closed the door behind him. One glance took in the four guns aimed at him, as well as the almost empty whiskey bottle on the table.

"Looks like you boys started celebrating a bit early."

Wes grinned as he moved back, motioning for Kane to come deeper into the room. "The boys and me had no doubt you'd show up, Kane. They just had a drink to applaud your dependability."

"So I see."

Kane moved slowly toward the window, keeping his back to it while he watched the four pairs of voracious eyes glued to the money bag. His right hand was hanging at his side near the gun butt, but he carefully kept his pose relaxed as his glance flashed past Wes to Abby.

"She's okay, Kane," Wes assured him with a smirky grin. "A little scared maybe, but that's all. Just like I promised."

"Cut her loose."

"When I have the money."

"Cut her loose first, then I'll give you the money."

Abby's breath froze in her throat at the verbal exchange. The expression on Kane's face left no room for debate. She quickly glanced at Wes to see a momentary hesitancy cross his features. Then she saw him smile in that cold, creepy manner as he jerked a thumb at the outlaw he'd called Lou.

"All right, Kane, don't get nervous. Cut her loose."

The outlaw moved toward her, put his gun back into the holster, leaned down and sliced through the rawhide with a hunting knife he took from his belt. Pain shot through her arms at the revived circulation while she bit her lip to keep back a gasp. The man had turned away from her, but remained standing close enough for her to almost touch his gun butt. She glanced to Kane's veiled features in time to catch the almost imperceptible shake of his head as he warned her silently not to do something foolish.

"She's loose, give me the money," Wes said as he motioned with his gun barrel toward the bag in Kane's left hand.

Abby rose on shaky legs and went to Kane's side. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hardly hear above its roar as he eased himself in front of her, putting himself between her and Wes' line of fire.

"You want the money, Wes?" he asked as he held the bag aloft and glanced around at the outlaw's greedy faces. "It's all yours. Enjoy!"

The words had barely left his mouth when he threw the money bag at Wes, and kicked the table over, sending the lantern flying across the room. In the inky darkness that followed, he grabbed a chair, threw it through the window, then caught Abby's shoulder.

"Get out, Abby, and run like hell! Don't look back!"

She had to strain to hear him above the gunshots that filled the room. She heard bullets slam into the wall all around them as Kane shoved her through the shattered window. Outside, in the fresh night air, she stopped and turned back. All she could see through the darkness were the spurts of flame from the outlaws' guns and the roar of the shots echoing . Then she saw Kane dive through the broken window.

He came to his knees firing into the shack. A moment later she felt his fingers clamp down on her forearm. "I told you to run, damn it! You trying to get killed?"

She couldn't reply because he was dragging her across the rough terrain toward an outcropping of rocks a hundred yards from the shack. When he'd pushed her to the ground behind the rocks, he raised on one knee and struck a match.

In the flickering light that briefly broke the darkness, Abby saw him pick up his Winchester before blowing out the match. Obviously, he had stashed the weapon here before coming to the shack. She wondered what else he had up his sleeve. A moment later the rifle barked and flame erupted from its barrel as he shot into the shack. The strangled scream that followed told her that his aim had been reliable. What she didn't understand was how he could hit anything at that distance and in the dark. His skills with a gun amazed her, and for the first time, she was elated that his reputation as a gunman had not been exaggerated.

"Kane, there's another man out here somewhere!" she cried as she climbed to her knees beside him.

"Not anymore."

His statement was casual, his tone almost amused as he turned to glance at her. In the pale light from the half moon floating between the clouds, she saw the hint of a smile touch his lips.

A bullet from the shack bit off a piece of rock close enough for her to feel the splinters when the outlaws honed in on their position. A barrage of bullets followed in the next moments. The whine of the bullets and the echoes of the rifles resounded against the ridge while Kane patiently waited.

A few moments later the outlaws stopped shooting. A moment later a light flared inside the shack.

"Guess they're taking a look at the money," Kane said, peering into the darkness toward the shack.

A moment later the sound of loud cursing and floundering about was heard, then a hail of gunshots, none of which were directed toward the rock alcove where they were hidden.

Kane laughed out loud softly. "Guess they found my little surprise."

"Surprise?" Abby gasped. "What surprise?"

"Adam and Eve."

"What are you talking about?"

The amused tone of his voice was driving her crazy. He leaned against the rocks for a moment and dealt her a direct gaze for the first time since they'd left the shack.

"A pair of cottonmouths. I affectionately call them Adam and Eve. It took me damned near an hour to round them up and stuff them in that bag. I figured I might need a diversion. What do you think I was doing all that time you were waiting for me?"

Abby stared at him, speechless. His eyes glittered like diamond points in the pale light as he returned her gaze. When he smiled, she saw the brief flash of his teeth before he returned his attention to the confusion going on in the shack.

"I-I-I didn't know…I thought...maybe...you…"

"What? That I wouldn't come? Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Tears burned her eyes at the sting in his voice. He had turned his attention back to the shack where gunshots and cursing were still erupting. "That's not fair, Kane! You were so angry at me this morning…"

"Damn right! And I had reason!"

When she didn't respond, he turned his head to look at her again. The hurt on her face made him swallow hard before looking back at the shack. "This isn't the time to discuss it, Abby. We have a bigger problem right now."

Silence fell over the shack. Kane watched the shadowed figures moving back and forth in front of the window but he didn't shoot at them. "What the hell are they doing in there?" he asked aloud when a few moments silently passed.

Then two shots rang out. A second later one man raced out the door and around back where the horses were tied. In another minute the sound of one horse speeding away could be heard.

When no sound or movement was noticeable for five minutes, Kane got to his feet. Realizing he was about to go to the shack to investigate, Abby caught his arm.

"Be careful, Kane."

"Stay here," he said curtly as he walked into the darkness.

He returned in only a few moments. He began gathering up the weapons as he explained. "Wes got away with the money. The other three are dead."

"You killed one of them and he killed the others."

Kane glanced at her before pausing to let out a shrill whistle. A minute later his horse cantered into the alcove and nestled his sleek head against Kane's shoulder. Evidently his tale about the horse losing a shoe had been a fabrication too.

"Looks that way."

"He was planning it all afternoon. They started drinking and he just let them. Like he knew if they were drunk, they'd be easier to take."

"Sounds like Wes. He's never been one to share his toys."

Kane slid the Winchester back into the saddle boot, then turned to her. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

Abby shook her head. "No, he scared me, but he didn't hurt me and he didn't let the others hurt me."

Kane turned from the horse and took both her hands. He held them up to the scattered light so he could get a closer look at the rawhide burns on both wrists. When he let her go, he took his canteen off the saddle and pulled his bandanna from around his throat. Wetting it, he applied it to Abby's injuries, carefully keeping his eyes averted from her questioning gaze.

"These burns are nasty and painful, but not serious. You'll be as good as new in time for the wedding."

Abby ignored both his statement and the tone of voice it was made in. She stood meekly while he cleansed the burns. "Is everything all right in Cimarron?" she asked to break the awkward silence.

Kane nodded without looking at her, keeping his attention on her injuries. "If you're asking how I got the money, the answer is that Mr. Gaston gave it to me. Judge Connors explained the situation to him and he forked it over without an argument. He'll make a hell of a father-in-law."

"Does my mother know…"

"Yes, the judge took care of that too. She's scared, but she's a tough lady. She'll be okay as soon as she sees you."

He replaced the canteen on his saddle, then disappeared into the darkness behind the rock alcove for a few minutes. When he returned, he was leading another horse. Abby recognized it as the same one the fifth outlaw had been riding earlier.

"Can you find Cimarron on your own?"

Abby's eyes widened with fear as she stared up at him in the dim light. He was holding the reins of the outlaw's horse toward her, as if he expected her to take them and mount up. "In the dark? I-I-why--"

"Time's wasting, Abby, and Wes is getting away. I can't stand around here all night debating it with you. Can you find your way home by yourself or not?"

"No!" she cried, backing away and staring at the reins in his hand fearfully. "I'm not leaving you!"

"Really? You did it well enough this morning. As I recall, you slipped out of my bed and into Frederick's arms without so much as a goodbye. A forty mile ride in the middle of the night by yourself ought to be child's play after that."

"I do not have to explain my actions to you!" she snapped as she snatched the reins from his hand. "And if you want me to wander around out here all alone in the middle of the night, then I'll just have to, won't I? After all, how many other cottonmouths are lying in wait out there for a defenseless female to stumble over them?"

"Defenseless, my ass!" Kane said as he reached to catch her around the waist as she was trying to mount. He set her on the ground in front of him and took the reins back from her. "A poor, peace loving snake would run for cover at the first glimpse of you, sweetheart."

The sarcasm in his voice made her throat constrict with anger but the fear that he would ride out of her life tonight was far greater than the fear of what might be waiting up ahead. She swallowed hard as they stared at each other in the moonlight.

"You're going after Wes?"

"I'm going after the money."

"Why?"

Irritation flickered across his face. "Because I'm not going to let that low-life get away with every cent the town trusted me with. I promised Mr. Gaston I'd recover it once you were safe."

"I can help."

Kane stared at her incredulously. Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm, her lips parted while she stared up at him. For a woman who'd been kidnapped and spent the afternoon being terrorized by a band of cut throats, she looked too damned tempting. It took all his strength not to forget his mission and take her right there on the ground.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Take me with you, Kane. I can ride; I won't hold you up. You'll see. Besides, you can't just leave me out here. I can't possibly find my way back to town in the dark."

Kane studied her upturned eager features in the moonlight. The persistent pounding of his heart drove back the logical reasons why he should say no and send her on her way to fend for herself. Finally, he exhaled deeply as he handed the reins back to her.

"All right. You can come, but just until we come across a town with a stagecoach line. Then you come straight back home, understand?"

Abby's heart was singing as she nodded quickly. "Anything you say, Kane."

She took the reins and mounted, then turned in the saddle to smile at him. "I'm ready when you are."

Kane swung onto the bay and paused to pull his hat down a bit. "Yeah? Well, you better be able to keep up. I don't have time to baby-sit you. Keep up or I'll leave you behind. Got it?"

Abby nodded meekly, but smiled in the darkness as he led the way out of the rock alcove. Instead of being afraid, she was filled with excitement as she followed him into the prairie. For the moment at least, all thoughts of her father, her guilt, and her future with Frederick were pushed aside. She'd think about all that later.

For now, she was so happy to be riding at Kane's side as they urged the horses into a canter, little else mattered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

By midnight Abby was bone weary. The bone jarring pace Kane had set had worn down her determination pretty quickly, but her pride would never allow her to admit it. As she glanced at him in the moonlight, she knew that one complaint now and he'd probably leave her in the prairie with the cottonmouths and jackrabbits.

He hadn't spoken ten words to her since they'd left the line shack. His features were grim, his back ramrod straight as they rode through the night. The twitching in his jaws made her wonder what he was thinking, but the expression on his face when he bothered to glance at her from time to time convinced her she probably didn't really want to know.

When he placed his right hand over the wound in his side, she knew he was exhausted and in pain. She considered suggesting they stop and rest, but knew he wouldn't be receptive to that idea. She let out a sigh, realizing that he would probably push on through the night, with no regard to his well being, or hers.

"I don't understand you," she said to him at last when the silence became unbearable. "You killed two men tonight to rescue me and robbed a bank, and since then you haven't so much as spoken to me."

"What's to understand?" Kane grunted, turning in the saddle to look at her finally. The sight of her face illuminated by the moonlight as it passed between clouds made his gut constrict. Her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, giving her an innocent, guileless appearance that instantly brought to mind the memory of her lying beneath him, passionately crying out his name. He shook his head to physically remove that image and cleared his throat before he could speak.

"Wes approached me about robbing the bank weeks ago. If I'd agreed to it then, you wouldn't have been caught up in it."

"So you rescued me out of some sense of honor?"

"Something like that."

"That's all?"

The subdued tone of her voice made Kane glance at her again. Her head was held high as she met his gaze, her eyes bright with a combination of hurt and anger that made his teeth grind. He turned away from her insistent gaze before his own emotions gave him away.

"What else would there be?"

"Nothing, I guess." Liar, you big liar! If that was all there was to it, you'd have left me back at the shack the second I was safe. The very fact that I'm still with you proves it was a lot more than mere honor.

Abby stared at his profile in the moonlight, swallowing back the observation that was burning holes in her mind. Instead, she tried to focus on a subject that was less dangerous than his feelings, or the lack of them, for her.

"That doesn't explain why you're so angry with me."

Kane flashed her a brief incredulous glance as she maneuvered her mount alongside his. They were riding through an open stretch of prairie populated by nothing except prairie dogs and cactus. The moon moved lazily between the clouds overhead as the stars twinkled brightly in the sky. The Texas breeze was cooler here, almost pleasant as it lifted her hair and sifted it before replacing it on her back in a golden cloud.

"I never figured you for the kind of woman who went from one man's bed to another without so much as a deep breath."

"I'm not that kind of woman."

"Yeah? Well, you could sure as hell fool me." Kane's voice was cold as he directed a stare at her. His eyes, however, were not cold at all. They were burning into hers with such intensity it made Abby's mouth go dry.

"But then, hell, I was pretty easy to fool, wasn't I? You came sniffing for me with that 'damsel in distress' look, and man, I fell for it like a ton of bricks. We spend the next twelve hours locked up like a pair of dogs in heat, and the next thing I know Frederick is telling me that the two of you have set a wedding date. You might have mentioned that, Abby, at some point."

"I realize it was wrong not to tell you. I never intended for you to find out like you did."

Her voice was contrite, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she returned his angry gaze.

Kane snorted as he shifted in the saddle so he could look at her more directly. "Just when did you plan to tell me? As you were going up the aisle to pledge your undying love to him?"

"I don't know…exactly."

"Just explain to me why you became engaged to him, and then came directly to find me? What is that all about? Tell me, Abby, so I can understand."

Even if he didn't intend it, Abby heard the thread of hurt in his voice. The accusation in his eyes and expression made her heart constrict. The idea of telling him the truth crossed her mind, but it was obvious from his manner that it would be useless.

"I wanted to be with you. Is that so hard for you to understand? Women have been coming to you for years for the same reasons, haven't they?"

Kane nodded. "Yeah, but you're not like those women. At least I didn't think so at the time."

"Maybe I'm more like them than you think," she murmured, glancing away from his piercing gaze. "Maybe I wanted to have something to compare it to...when Frederick and I…when we.."

"Idle curiosity? Was that what it was then? Well, you tell me, how did I do? Did I pass your test?"

The gritty sarcasm in his voice sent a surge of anger spurting through her veins. She stared at him for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. The accusation in his eyes made her defensive and guilty, two emotions she did not like.

"You were splendid!" She felt the blood rush into her face as she rose straighter in the saddle, pinning him with a heated glare that made his brows arch. "Just like I knew you would be! I don't know why you're so bent out of shape about this, Kane. How many women have you taken to bed and promptly forgot about? Hundreds? Thousands, maybe? The man you killed, the one that you were sent to prison for killing, that was over a woman, wasn't it? Isn't it true that the man caught you with his wife? The fact that she had slept with him, then with you, didn't bother you then, did it?"

"That was different."

"Really? The only difference is that I didn't sleep with Frederick first. You got the best of the bargain! You were first! And you were first because I wanted it that way!"

"Why?" Kane demanded.

"Maybe I wanted a benchmark for every other man I'll sleep with in my life! Maybe I was curious about what all those other women see in you! Maybe I was just...what's the term you use to describe a female in heat? Whatever it is, maybe that's what I was feeling."

"So it meant nothing?"

The surprise on his face made her want to laugh out loud. This entire conversation would have funny, had it not been so ironic.

"Isn't that what you tell yourself after you've been with one of the girls at the saloon? It means nothing, it was just physical, just sex. Why should it be any different for a woman? Aren't we allowed that same privilege? Or is capricious sex strictly a male dominated priority?"

Kane's dark eyes burned into hers but she adamantly refused to break the contact. Staring back at him without blinking gave her a real sense of victory. If he could be a fraud, so could she.

After a long moment, he looked away. When he looked back at her a few moments later he was calmer. "I suppose I should be flattered."

"I suppose you should!"

"How are you going to explain to Frederick that you're not a virgin?"

"I'm not. I don't owe Frederick an explanation either."

"He's not likely to see it that way."

"Then it's his problem."

Her defiant response stirred something down deep inside him as their gazes locked again briefly. He shifted in the saddle again, suddenly uncomfortable as his body reacted to her bold declarations.

"You sure know how to get a man's attention, Miss Prescott," he said finally as he broke contact with her heated gaze. "I don't think I've ever been called a hypocrite before."

"Perhaps you've never acted like one before."

While she stared at him, the tension in his features faded and one of those disarming smiles took its place. For a moment, she was looking at the old Kane, the one who didn't care about anything. The difference is that we both know you do care. So do I. But at least one of us is smart enough not to say it. I don't think either of us is strong enough for that.

"What do you say we call a truce?" he asked.

"I think that's an excellent idea. Let's concentrate on the matter at hand and forget everything else."

"Including Frederick?"

"Especially Frederick," she answered as she urged her horse into the lead. I'm not going to spoil the time we have together thinking about him now.

Kane stared at her back as she rode ahead of him. Her long hair fanned out behind her on the breeze and once more he felt the biological demands of his body surge to the forefront.

"Good idea, Miss Prescott," he said aloud as he urged the bay into a canter. "A very excellent idea. If you can forget him, so can I."

***

An hour later Kane pulled his horse to a halt. As he dismounted, Abby peered into the darkness around them, wondering where they were and why he'd stopped. In front of them was a river but it was too dark to see how wide it was.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked as he came around her horse.

"It's about four hours till sunup. We'll rest the horses till then. You can probably use some sleep too. It's been a long night."

While Kane spoke, he was lifting her off the horse and setting her on her feet in front of him. She stared up at him for a moment, transfixed by the unintelligible expression on his face. Then she forced a weak smile.

"I'll admit that I'm getting tired. After all, we didn't get much sleep last night, did we?"

"No, we didn't, and that's a fact."

Kane grinned as he turned away to begin unsaddling his horse. As he worked, Abby pulled her thoughts away from the muscles bunching and expanding in his shoulders and took a deep breath. Turning to her own horse, she began loosening the cinches, smiling at the animal's grateful grunts.

"You don't seem to be the worse for wear, however," she remarked, referring to her earlier comment.

Kane glanced at her over his shoulder with a grin. "I'm used to being up all night. It's nothing new to me."

"Aw, yes, I'd almost forgotten. I suppose your...duties...have kept you up all night on many occasions."

The dry humor in her tone made him smile as he turned and leaned against the bay's side while he regarded her. She was pulling the cinches free with the skill of an expert horseman. Somehow he had not expected her to be such a skilled rider or that she could keep up the pace he'd set without complaining.

"You surprise me, Miss Prescott."

"Really? In what way?" Abby asked as she stripped the saddle off the horse and carried it a few feet away where she put it down neatly before turning to face him.

Kane shrugged. "You ride very well."

"I told you I did."

"You haven't complained either."

"I told you I wouldn't."

Kane nodded as he turned back to take the saddle off the bay. A moment later he dropped it beside Abby's, then took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Just what else can you do that you haven't told me about?" he asked with a grin.

"Nothing much. The really important things that I've learned to do, you've taught me," she replied with a bright smile.

"Then I have nobody to blame but myself."

Kane's voice had dropped to a low husky tone. Even as he finished the thought, he was reaching for her.

Abby slipped into his arms with a contented sigh. Fatigue and hunger faded out of her mind when he kissed her. She felt the familiar heat of passion spring up inside her with that kiss, and the ones that followed. She pressed against him, running her hands across the wide expanse of his shoulders, reveling in the fire in his kisses, and the erection that burned her belly.

She was disappointed when he pulled away and reluctantly put his hands on her shoulders. "I thought you were tired, Miss Prescott," he said with a grin as he looked down at her flushed face.

"I'm not that tired."

Abby was amazed at her boldness. Only twenty-four hours earlier she would never have dreamed that she would have said something so suggestive to a man, or that she'd be bitterly disappointed at his response.

"You need to get some rest, Abby," Kane said as he leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips again. "It'll be daylight soon and we have a long day tomorrow."

"But…"

"Sleep now…we'll get around to the other when we've both had some sleep."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Abby took his word. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him once more, then turned away to roll out her blanket. "I'm holding you to that, Mr. Darcy," she said cheerfully.

A few minutes later they were snuggled together on the blankets. As she nestled her face in the hollow of his shoulder, she stifled a yawn.

"Aren't you afraid Wes is out there somewhere?" she asked, unwilling to go to sleep just yet.

"Wes is riding his horse into the ground getting away. He's not waiting around to ambush us."

"You know him pretty well. Do you know where he's going?"

She felt Kane's body move as he nodded. He tucked her face into his chest with one hand and yawned sleepily. "I have a pretty good idea. But the problem is that he's got a head start, and he's got supplies. We don't."

"What are we going to do about that?"

"We're going to get supplies in the morning and then we're going to close the distance between us."

"How will we do that?"

"By staying on the move. If I know Wes, he's headed to a little town across the border. With a little luck, we'll get there not long after he does."

"What happens when you catch up with him?"

"I'm going to get the town's money back and then, most likely, I'm going to kill him."

He made the statement casually, without emotion. The matter of fact tone of his voice made Abby shudder.

"I thought you were only interested in recovering the money."

"No, I said I was going after the money. I am. I'm also going to make sure Wes doesn't terrorize any other women. Don't worry, Abby, I'm not going to murder him. He'll have his chance to draw."

Abby's fingers grasped his shirt as she clung to him. "He planned to kill you when you brought the money. He said if he didn't, he'd be looking over his shoulder forever. And he planned to kill his own men, which he did, and then I'm sure he planned to kill me too. I won't be sorry if you have to kill him, Kane, but I will be sorry if anything happens to you."

Her voice was soft and strained as she buried her face deeper into his chest.

Kane leaned down to kiss the top of her head as he drew her deeper into his embrace. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Nothing is going to happen to me."

"You said he was good with a gun."

"He is, but I'm better."

Dear God, I hope so! I couldn't bear it if you were…. She couldn't bring herself to even give voice to the thought. After Kane went to sleep, she lay clinging to him, filled with fear that she might lose him forever, knowing if he were to die, she'd have no reason to go on living herself. And knowing she could never tell him so.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Abby awoke, realizing immediately that she was alone. She sat up quickly, scanned the area for Kane, and let out a relieved breath when she saw him standing at the river's edge watering the horses. She hurriedly raked her fingers through her hair, wishing she had a brush to make some order of the tangles, smoothed her skirts, and went to join him.

"Where are we?"

Kane turned at the sound of her voice and gave her one of those slow mesmerizing smiles that made her heart leap. "About fifty yards from Mexico."

He pointed toward the muddy expanse of water that lay before them. "That's the Rio Grande."

"We covered a lot of ground last night."

Kane nodded as he turned both horses away from the river. "Yeah, but we've got a lot more to cover. It's going to be a long day. Are you ready?"

Abby nodded as she fell into step beside him while they walked back to the camp. Within a few minutes the horses were saddled and they were on their way across the river. She gripped the saddle horn tightly as the cool water hit her thighs. Thankfully, the little black she was riding was not as afraid of water as she was, and in moments they had crossed the river and paused to let the horses get their breath.

"Sorry we don't have anything to eat," Kane remarked as they cantered across the open country. "There's a little town about fifteen miles up ahead. We can get supplies there." He paused to look at her wet clothes. "You'll be needing some more clothes too."

"These will dry soon."

"That's not what I mean."

Abby looked at him curiously, suspicious of the grin on his face.

"If you're going to ride with me, Miss Prescott, you can't do it looking like that."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with the way I look?"

"Don't get your hackles up," Kane replied with a grin at her indignant expression. "There's not a thing wrong with the way you look. Actually, you look pretty damn good considering what you've been through."

Abby smiled at his off-handed compliment. The warmth in his eyes made her shiver in anticipation. She knew that look pretty well by now. "Okay, just what does a well dressed lady wear, Mr. Darcy, for chasing an outlaw across Mexico?"

"Something other than a dress, that's for sure. I'll have my hands full trying to find Wes without having every man we run into eyeballing you like a hungry wolf. You need something that will make you a little less obvious."

"You mean a disguise?"

Kane laughed softly as he pulled his hat down against the glare of the morning sun. "Sort of. I was thinking more along the lines of a pair of pants and a shirt. Maybe a hat to stick your hair under."

"And a gun? I'd like one like yours."

Kane shook his head. "That's not a good idea. Don't want you shooting yourself in the foot."

"What makes you think I'd shoot myself in the foot?" she asked indignantly, squinting at him. "Maybe I can shoot too."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You've been full of surprises so far."

"Well, actually I can't shoot. I've never even held a gun," she admitted. "But other people don't know that. It might scare off troublemakers."

"It might also get you killed. Wearing a gun is best reserved for those who know how to use one."

"Like you?"

Kane nodded. "Yeah, like me."

Abby looked hard at the Colt in the holster on his hip as he rode alongside of her. "You don't have any notches in yours. Why not?"

"Killing a man is nothing to brag about. Notches are for men who are proud of their kills. I'm not one of them."

"How many men have you killed?"

"My, aren't we curious this morning?" Kane said with a sideways glance at her. The sparkle in her eyes made his palms sweat and his heart race.

"My stomach is growling, if you must know. Conversation helps me not think about it."

"Okay," he conceded with a half smile. "If you must know, I don't know exactly. Several."

"In gunfights?"

"Some of them."

"And the others?"

The way he shifted in the saddle spoke volumes about his discomfort with the topic of conversation. "The others were business."

"You mean…you were hired to kill someone?"

"You wanted to know."

"I know," she said, staring at him with wide eyes. "I just never thought…"

"I told you, Abby, my past is not pretty. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. Hiring my gun out is one of them. But I've never murdered anyone, if that's what you're thinking. The men I've killed were all trying to kill me."

She let out a relieved breath and flashed him a bright smile. "Just how fast are you with that gun?"

"Fast enough."

"Faster than Billy the Kid?"

"I wouldn't know. We were always on the same side."

Abby's eyes grew wide with surprise as she stared at him. "You knew Billy the Kid?"

"Sort of. We worked for the same fellow down in New Mexico territory a year or so back."

"What was he like?"

"He was a mean little bastard. He liked killing people. I don't."

"Gosh! I guess you've really been around more than I thought."

"Yeah, I guess," Kane replied dryly. "You want to know how fast he was? He was the fastest man with a gun I've ever seen. But then, he did it for a living. You have to be good when you do that."

"And Wes?"

"It's not his style to shoot it out with a man face to face in a fair fight. His style is more the ambush kind. That's why we have to be careful."

Abby nodded, trying to swallow the lump that had arisen in her throat. "That's why it's important that I don't look like a girl. So he won't recognize me and know you're after him."

"Oh, he knows I'm after him. But, yeah, you're right. One look at you and I lose the element of surprise. Taking him will a lot easier if he doesn't see me coming for a mile away."

"Okay, Mr. Darcy, I'll wear men's clothes. It might even be fun."

Kane looked at her in amazement. "Abby, this is not some big adventure that's all fun and games. Wes Carlin is not only mean, he's smart, and he's deadly. He's trying to stay alive just as hard as I am. I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

"I'm already in the crossfire, Kane. Wes put me there when he abducted me and forced you to rob the bank. This is my fight too. And I want to help."

Kane forced a tight smile at the conviction in her face. "You can help me most by staying as inconspicuous as possible." Then his gaze softened as it swept over her. "Although I'm not sure a pair of men's pants and a shirt is going to do the trick. You're too much woman to cover up that easily."

"Thank you, sir! I'm so glad you noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed all right. Several times, if memory serves."

Abby laughter tinkled on the morning breeze as they rode on. He had not mentioned sending her back since the night before at the line shack. It didn't mean he didn't still plan to at the first opportunity, but she wouldn't go easily.

Glancing at him in the early morning light, she felt her heart leap. With a day's growth of beard shadowing his face and the hat pulled down to shade his eyes, he looked almost menacing, but she had never felt safer.

I love you, Kane Darcy, and we’re in this together, no matter what happens, or how it ends. Nothing will make me leave you.

***

An hour later Kane pulled his horse to a halt atop a small rise and pointed to the small sleepy village that lay beneath them. "There's El Sarita. We can get supplies there."

"Have you given any thought to what we're going to use for money?"

With a grin, Kane reached into his vest and pulled out a handful of cash. "How's this?"

Abby gasped at the sight of all that money. "Where on earth…."

"When I gave Wes the bank money, I kept out a little for expenses."

"That was good thinking, Mr. Darcy."

"Yeah, well, help me explain that to Mr. Gaston, will you? I'll have to pay back what we spend. On my salary, it'll take at least a couple of years," Kane replied with a grin.

Abby wisely chose not to comment on the remark, electing not to think about him staying in Cimarron after she married Frederick. That prospect was too painful to dwell on at the moment. It was almost as painful as the thought that he might leave Cimarron and she'd never see him again. She was grateful that, for the moment, she didn't have to face either alternative.

"Have you been here before?" she asked as they rode down the slope into the village.

Kane nodded, but kept scanning the street ahead and the buildings for any sign of trouble. "Been through here, never stopped."

"It looks like a nice little village."

"Looks can be deceiving, Miss Prescott."

"I’m well aware of that, Mr. Darcy," she returned with an arched brow but Kane wasn't looking at her.

El Sarita was little more than a wide spot on the road. It consisted of a main street about a hundred yards long bordered on both sides by adobe shacks that were so worn by the elements it appeared a strong wind would blow them all over. Weathered wooden signs hung over many of the open doorways but the words on them were all in Spanish and Abby could not understand any of them.

About halfway down the street, Kane pulled his horse to halt in front of one of the buildings and dismounted. Abby followed suit, pausing to straighten her skirts as she glanced at the sign above the establishment.

"What does provision mean?"

"A place we can get the supplies we need," Kane answered as he took her elbow and led her inside.

The store was small, hot, and its items were lying hap-hazardly around on racks and tables. Abby doubted the place had been dusted in months. The comparison to her parents' store back home in Cimarron made her smile in spite of the heat and her discomfort.

"My papa would have a fit if our store ever looked like this," she whispered to Kane as they maneuvered around the piles of merchandise.

"The Mexican people have a more relaxed way of doing things than we Anglos. They rarely get very excited about anything."

While he was talking, Kane was taking garments off the racks and in only a few moments had selected a pair of trousers and a long sleeved plaid shirt. He picked up a floppy brimmed hat as he moved around the table, then handed everything to Abby.

While she examined the garments, he was busy picking up food staples for their journey. By the time the yawning proprietor came from the back room of the store, Kane had made his selections and was standing at the front counter counting out enough money to pay for them.

"Manana buena," he said to the portly Mexican who greeted them with a wide, toothy smile.

"Buenos dias," the man replied. He nodded to Abby, obviously trying to cover his surprise. "Buenos dias, senorita."

"Cuanto?" Kane asked, indicating the supplies he'd placed on the counter.

The man took his time. He picked up each item, looked at it as though he knew it intimately, and placed it carefully back on the counter before moving to the next one.

"Veinto dolor, senor."

Kane shook his head. He recounted the money slowly, keeping his gaze on the bills and not on the way the Mexican storekeeper's mouth was watering. "Twenty dollars? Demasiada dinero. Dies, no mas."

The store owner let out a huge exaggerated sigh as he reached for the money Kane was holding toward him. He shrugged, took the folded bills, put them away in a trouser pocket, and then turned another huge smile in Abby's direction. "Bien, senor, muy bien."

"Esta alli un telegrama oficina en El Sarita?" Kane asked him.

The store owner shook his head sadly.

"Que te diligencia?"

Again the plump Mexican shrugged with a sad smile.

Kane returned the smile as he gathered up the supplies he'd purchased and headed for the door.

"Just great! No telegraph. No stagecoach either."

He stuffed the provisions into his saddle bags and mounted.

"Guess you're stuck with me, Mr. Darcy," Abby said as she swung onto the horse

and arranged her skirts. It was difficult to keep the triumph out of her voice.

"Looks that way, at least for the time being."

Within a few minutes they were on the outskirts of the town. When the village was no longer in sight, Kane halted and pointed to a stand of scrubby trees at the side of the trail.

"You can change over there. And be quick about it, Abby. We're losing time."

She slipped off her horse and moved past him into the brush. As she changed clothes, she peeked between the branches of her cover to see him still seated on the bay, constantly scanning the horizon for movement. The strain of too little sleep and the wound in his side made his lips tight and the scowl on his face deepen when she didn't reappear as quickly as he would have liked.

"You can't keep up this pace, Kane," she called as she buttoned the shirt and tucked it into the trousers. "You need some rest."

"I'll rest when I've got you and the money back to Cimarron."

She emerged from the brush tucking the remains of her hair beneath the hat. Aware of how the snug trousers fit her thighs as she walked toward him, she took her time, enjoying the instantaneous appreciation that lit his eyes.

"If Wes is any good with a gun, you need to be at your best when you face him," she said as she took the reins from him and mounted gracefully.

"I'll be just fine."

"You better be. I don't relish the thought of being abandoned in Mexico if you get yourself killed. I don't speak the language, and I don't even like the food."

Kane directed one of those penetrating glances at her that made her throat tighten. "If I get myself killed, the food is going to be the least of your problems."

"That's exactly what I mean, Mr. Darcy."

"Well, then, ma'am," he drawled as he pulled his hat brim down to shade his face from the glaring sun. "I guess I'll just have to make sure I don't get myself killed then, won't I?"

"That would be most agreeable."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll do my damnedest to make sure you don't have to eat tortillas, Miss Prescott."

His lazy grin took the anxiety from Abby's gut for the moment. He exuded confidence as the horses broke into a canter.

"We'll ride for a few more hours, then make camp. We'll get a good night's sleep and then start out fresh in the morning. Does that meet with your approval, Miss Prescott?"

Abby returned his grin. She adjusted the floppy hat brim so she could see beneath it, drawing in an excited breath at the expression on his face.

"It does, Mr. Darcy. I like the sound of it."

"Which part? The camping or the sleeping?"

"Why, Mr. Darcy! I do believe you're implying something other than sleeping!" she said with an impish smile. At least I hope you are.

"I make no promises I'm not sure I can keep. However," he added with a wicked grin in her direction. "Let's see how I feel after a few hours rest."

Abby nodded, making the brim of the hat bob in the breeze. "I know how you feel, Mr. Darcy."

Her bright laughter tinkled on the air as they rode through the barren landscape dotted with mesquite and cactus. She glanced back at Kane and swallowed the lump that suddenly filled her throat. Even with the desert's desolation, it looked like paradise.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Kane sat cross-legged beside the fire. The night birds sang merrily in the treetops surrounding their campsite but he was too lost in his own thoughts to appreciate them. The clear sky with its full moon and millions of twinkling stars also went unnoticed.

The cup of lukewarm coffee in his hands grew colder while he stared at Abby sleeping peacefully across the encampment. It was late and he knew he should be sleeping but it was impossible. Even making love to Abby had not relaxed him. Every nerve ending was on fire, making him edgy and uneasy. It was a feeling Kane was unfamiliar with, and did not relish.

You have completely lost your mind, he said to himself in the quiet darkness that was only briefly dispelled by the small fire. What have you done? The smart thing would have been to leave her at the line shack once she was safe. Why didn't you do that? Why did you let her talk you into bringing her along?

He snorted softly and shook his head. I wasn't hard to convince though, was I? Hell no! She looked up at me with those big baby blues and I lost what little sense I had. And just look at the mess we're in now. Here we are, a hundred miles deep in Mexico, following Wes' trail into a place even the buzzards have enough sense to avoid, and she's over there sleeping like a baby

He shook his head again, then rubbed one hand over his face. Even telling her I've rode with Billy the Kid didn't scare her. I'm beginning to think that not much of anything scares Miss Abigail Prescott. And that is not good! Not good at all.

He tossed the cold coffee out and put the cup back on the ground near the ring of rocks encircling the fire. He sighed as he dug a cheroot from his vest pocket and lit it with a twig from the fire. The smoke drifted lazily upward on the slight breeze when he exhaled.

What am I going to do about you, Miss Prescott? Your mama must be worried out of her mind by now and there's no way to let her know that you're safe. Well...as safe as you can be alone out here in the middle of nowhere with me.

He grinned as the memory of what they'd done before she went to sleep flashed into his mind. Then his features sobered. By now the whole town probably thinks I've made off with the money, and forced you to come along. Hell, if I do manage to get the money back and get you back to Cimarron in one piece they'll no doubt string me up before I get the chance to explain. And Frederick Gaston will be leading the lynch party.

Not that the little shit doesn't have reason. He just doesn't know how much reason.

He snorted again softly as his gaze once more settled on Abby's peaceful features lit by the flickering firelight. There ought to be a law against a female being that beautiful...and that naive. She actually thinks she can sleep with me and then marry Frederick without it affecting their relationship. Hell, what do I know? Maybe she can. The problem is, I'm beginning to wonder how it's going to affect me.

He got up and walked to the edge of the campsite. Standing with his back to Abby's sleeping figure, he drew on the cheroot as he listened to the darkness. Knowing that Wes had not paused to ambush them did not make it any easier to relax. Every shadow seemed to leap at him. He knew it was only the horses shuffling but it was enough to make his nerves screech.

Come on, Kane, get hold of yourself. Take a deep breath, calm down. Think! There has to be someplace you can leave her where she'll be safe while you track Wes down.

"Kane?"

He turned at the sound of Abby's uncertain voice. Her instantaneous smile when he materialized from the shadows made his heart thump. The sight of her tousled hair, inviting smile, and bare shoulders above the blanket made other things react just as strongly. He tossed the cheroot butt into the campfire as he walked past it.

She held the blanket up with a tempting smile as he drew nearer. "Is anything wrong?" she asked when he halted beside her.

"What could possibly be wrong, Miss Prescott? Here we are; a hundred miles from home, chasing a man who'd just as soon kill either of us as blink. By now the Texas Rangers are probably on our trail…"

"Except they can't cross the border..."

"Without permission from the Mexican government."

"Which they aren't likely to ask for, let alone get."

Kane nodded while he stared down at her bright eyes and parted lips. "Everybody in Cimarron probably thinks I've stolen the money and kidnapped you."

"When in truth, it's more the other way around," she pointed out with a giggle as she held the blanket a little higher. "You wanted to leave me at the line shack. It was my idea to come with you."

"Not one of my better decisions to let you," Kane said while he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Oh, I must disagree, Mr. Darcy. It was a brilliant decision on your part."

"How do you figure?"

Abby tossed her head to send a long lock of hair over her shoulder while her bright gaze held his prisoner. She followed every motion as he slowly removed his vest, then his shirt. When he began loosening his pants, her tongue flicked over her lips as heat flared in her eyes.

"You couldn't very well leave me out there all alone, in the dark, could you? I could have gotten lost and wandered around for days. I could've been attacked by wolves, or stumbled over a rattler... anything might have happened to me."

"Really? I have a feeling, Miss Prescott, that you are not nearly as helpless as you tried to make me think when we had this conversation before. In fact, I think you quite possibly took unfair advantage of my chivalry and actually tricked me into bringing you along."

"Why, Mr. Darcy! What a suspicious mind you have!"

Her gaze swept over his lean body as he stepped out of his trousers and took the edge of the blanket she was holding out to him.

"And quite frankly, the rest of you is quite splendid as well," she added as he slid beneath the blanket and into her arms. "Bet you never had this much fun riding with Billy the Kid."

Kane chuckled as she snuggled into his embrace. "Quite frankly, no. I must admit that riding with you has given a totally new dimension to the term."

"Good," she whispered while his lips began a slow skillful exploration of her body. "I'd hate to think you preferred some trigger happy gunslinger to me."

"Not a chance, Miss Prescott," Kane assured her in a husky voice when he lifted his head to pin a heated, direct expression on her eager face. "Not a chance."

***

Mid-afternoon a few days later brought them upon a small ranch lying in the foothills of a mountain range that towered above it. The peaks were still scattered with snow that promised an inviting respite from the August heat as they rode toward the rambling house. As they drew nearer, Abby could make out a lone man working on a corral a short distance from the house. He was hammering nails into a broken length of board, but looked up and reached for a rifle standing upright against the corral gate as they rode into the yard.

The man shaded his eyes with one hand as he stared at them in the sun's glare, then he began to smile. He put the rifle down and came to meet them, with a wide grin replacing the previous suspicion.

"Kane! Kane Darcy, as I live and breathe!" he exclaimed as he approached Kane with an outstretched hand. "It's been too long! What brings you down this way?"

Kane leaned down from the saddle to take the man's hand. The smile on his face was genuine, Abby thought as she watched the exchange of pleasantries. Obviously, Kane knew this man quite well.

"Pancho, how have you been?"

Abby's gaze flashed to the man Kane had addressed. Pancho? This man is quite obviously not Mexican, she thought as she stared at him closer. His skin was nearly the same hue as hers, clearly not the olive complexion of the Mexican people they had encountered in El Sarita a few days before. His speech was tinged with a Texas drawl, if anything, certainly not the broken English she was more familiar with.

He was a short man, stocky built with a shock of gray hair and a drooping moustache to match. She judged him to be in his early sixties but his muscular build and healthy appearance made it hard to tell.

"Good, Kane, good. Nothing ever changes around here. Still fighting the coyotes and sagebrush. You know how it goes." His gaze shifted to Abby, then he turned back to Kane with a curious expression. "Looks like your choice of traveling companions is improving, Kane. Howdee do, Miss."

Abby was disappointed that her mode of dress had not fooled the man into thinking she was a male. But his friendly manner and open smile quickly drove away her momentary dissatisfaction.

"Pancho Tate, meet Abigail Prescott," Kane said by way of introduction.

Pancho wiped one brawny hand on the thigh of his work denims before extending it toward her. Abby took it, impressed by both the strength in his grip and the gentleness behind it.

"Happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Abigail. Well, come on, get down, and come into the house. Rosa should have some dinner ready in a bit. I seem to remember how much you like her cooking, Kane."

Abby followed Kane's lead and dismounted. They walked toward the house, leading the horses.

"She wouldn't have any enchiladas made, would she?" Kane asked with a grin as he tied the reins to the front porch support.

Abby didn't know what was cooking inside the house, but the aromas wafting out onto the porch were nothing short of heavenly. She didn't even like Mexican food as a rule, but then a week of camp rations made anything appealing. Her mouth was nearly watering as they stepped up onto the porch.

"Enchiladas, tortillas, beans, rice, anything you want, my Rosa can cook," Pancho said as he ushered them toward the front door.

Abby smiled at the ring of pride in his voice. Pancho Tate had just risen in her opinion, with his unabashed affection for his wife.

"Mama! Mama, we got company!" he called as they entered the living room.

A moment later a tall buxom woman came bustling out of the kitchen wiping her hands on an apron tied around her waist. A wide smile, punctuated by a gold tooth, broke across her face at the sight of Kane.

"Kane, mi amigo, so nice to see you!"

"Ah, Rosa, you're still the most beautiful woman I know," Kane said with a grin while the woman gave him a brief robust hug.

"You lie, Kane, but I love you for it!"

Rosa Tate was Mexican, with long, ebony hair swirled into a topknot with wisps sticking out every which way. Her eyes were as black as her hair, sparkling with amusement as she stepped back to survey Kane. She was some years younger than her husband, but it was impossible to tell how many. She was several inches taller than Pancho, broad shouldered and as muscular as a man, with work roughened hands and skin like leather.

Then her piercing gaze moved to Abby. By now Abby had removed the floppy hat, allowing her long hair to spill down her back in golden profusion. Rosa Tate's brows lifted in question as she stared first at Abby, then at Kane.

"Muy bello, Kane. Su esposa?"

The surprised expression that flashed to Kane's face made Abby wonder what the woman had said. She turned to look at him curiously as he shook his head with a grin.

"No, Rosa. Miss Prescott is a friend."

Rosa gave him a wide smile as she extended her hand toward Abby. "Demasiado malo. Su amante? Si," she added when he actually blushed. "Su amante! Muy bueno!

Your taste in women is improving, mi amigo"

She turned back toward the kitchen with a dry chuckle at the embarrassment that heated his face. When she had disappeared through the arched doorway, Abby turned to him to ask, "What did she say, Kane?"

"That you're very beautiful."

"That's all?"

"That's enough," he replied sheepishly as Pancho ushered them into the kitchen.

"My Rosa has been trying to convince this young fella for years now that he needs to find a nice young woman and settle down," Pancho explained. "She thought maybe he had…with you, I mean."

Abby's cheeks flamed as he held out a chair for her at the square table in the center of Rosa's immaculate kitchen. She couldn't find the courage to look at Kane after Pancho's statement but it didn't matter. He couldn't look at her either.

***

"So this banker fella just handed you a sackful of money and let you ride off with it?"

Pancho stared at Kane in amazement. They were sitting on the front porch of the ranch house as the sun sank behind the horizon. A breeze had cooled the stifling heat of the August day, so that it was now a pleasant evening.

In the house, Kane could hear Abby and Rosa talking as they finished up the supper dishes. After that first awkward meeting, the two women had formed a quick friendship and were talking like old friends as they worked. It made for a very pleasant mood while the men sat in cane-backed chairs drawn up to the railing, smoking peacefully.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Kane replied to Pancho's question. "I didn't think it would be so simple. In fact, I thought I'd have to take the money by force. No one was more surprised than me when he handed it over without a fuss."

Pancho squinted through a haze of cigar smoke at Kane's thoughtful expression. "Sounds like you've made a pretty good impression on the folks of Cimarron, my young friend."

"It had a lot more to do with the fact that Abby's engaged to the banker's son than my good impression. Mr. Gaston doesn't want anything to happen to his future daughter-in-law."

"Funny, that she's going to marry that fella and yet here she is, sticking by you like glue. I'd think she'd have high-tailed it for home the minute you sprung her loose from Wes."

Kane didn't comment, but drew on the aromatic cigar Pancho had provided after supper.

"Course you couldn't just leave her out there by herself. And you couldn't take time to take her back to town if you wanted to stay on Wes' trail. You did the right thing, of course, bringing her along."

"Except now what do I do with her?" Kane asked wearily. A week of little sleep and a full stomach was beginning to lull him into drowsiness. "I'm sure Wes is heading for El Jardin de Diablo. I damned well can't take her in there."

"Which is why you've brought her here. You want me and Rosa to watch over her until you come back for her."

Kane nodded as he flicked away the cigar ash. "Will you?"

"Of course we will, Kane. But I doubt she's going to take kindly to be left behind. I'd say that little gal has some real strong feelings where you're concerned."

"She'll get over it. She'll be safe here."

"Wes Carlin is quick as a rattler, Kane. You watch yourself."

"You needn't worry about that, Pancho. I know Wes too."

Kane reached into his vest pocket and produced a handful of bills, which he handed to Pancho. "If I don't come back, make sure she gets home. Okay?"

Pancho nodded as he stuck the money into a trouser pocket. "You got my word, Kane."

"I know it's asking a lot, what with things being the way they are for you in Texas."

Pancho laughed as he shrugged. "Don't you worry about me. I've been dodging the Rangers now for a long spell. They know I'm here, and I know they know I'm here but we kinda have an understanding. I don't revert back to my old ways and they don't bother me. It's working out fine."

"How have you managed to do it, Pancho?"

Pancho drew on his own cigar, exhaled, and then nodded over his shoulder toward the sound of the women inside. "Rosa, that's how. She's made all the difference, Kane. I don't even think about the old days. The man who did all those things…he doesn't exist anymore. Not since Rosa. You'll understand someday when you meet the right woman."

The scowl on Kane's face deepened. Pancho leaned over, slapped him on the knee with a meaty hand and gave a short laugh. "Or maybe you already understand."

Kane didn't look at him. He was staring off into the gathering darkness thoughtfully. "Yeah, maybe I do."

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The morning sun pouring through the window greeted Abby when she awoke the following morning. She turned over, silently giving thanks for the soft mattress beneath her. After a week of sleeping on the ground, a real bed was something to be thankful for. She stretched and yawned lazily and then automatically reached for Kane.

She realized quickly that he was not in the bed beside her. She lay back and yawned again, thinking he was probably already in the kitchen, for she could hear dishes rattling while Rosa set the table for breakfast.

The sight of her clothes scattered on the floor made her smile, remembering how hastily she had thrown them off the previous night. The second the bedroom door closed behind them, she had thrown herself into Kane's arms in anticipation of another night of love. He had not disappointed her.

The thought that sooner or later those wondrous nights would come to an end was pushed forcibly to the back of her mind as she hopped out of bed and began to dress. She suspected they were very close to finding Wes Carlin. Kane had not indicated this, but something in his manner the previous evening made the thought stick in her mind. She had sensed an underlying urgency in his lovemaking and wondered if he was worried that their quest for Wes and the town's money was nearing its conclusion.

She dressed quickly after enjoying a sponge bath from the water pitcher Rosa had provided. Refreshed and ready to greet the day, she brushed her hair until it hung in golden waves down her back, then ventured out of the bedroom at the back of the ranch house and into the hallway.

Pancho was seated at the table drinking his morning coffee. Rosa was busy at the stove stirring something that smelled like heaven to Abby's empty stomach. Kane was nowhere in sight.

"Good morning," Abby said with a bright smile when she entered the cozy room. "Or should I say Buenos dias? Kane taught me how to say that last night."

"Buenos dias, yourself," Pancho returned with a grin at her obvious attempt to show her appreciation for their hospitality. "Have a seat, young lady. Rosa has breakfast ready. Bet you're hungry, aren't you? After such a long night?"

Rosa sat a plate down before each of them and smacked him on the shoulder when Abby's face went scarlet at his friendly observation. "Pancho, shame on you! You've gone and embarrassed our young guest."

Rosa's heavy Spanish accent made her scolding more comical than reproachful. Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement at Abby's chagrined expression. She patted Abby's shoulder affectionately as she added, "Kane is a muy guapo…handsome… hombre, no? Ah, if I were younger…"

She laughed in a deep throaty voice as she moved around the table to take her own seat.

Abby relaxed a little when Pancho winked at her from the end of the table where he was tucking his napkin into the front of his shirt. She inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of the delicious looking food on her plate, then noticed that a place had not been set for Kane.

"Has Kane eaten already?" she asked, still inhaling the fragrance of the food.

"Yes," Rosa answered as she pushed a plate of hot tortillas across the table toward Abby.

"Is he checking on the horses?"

Abby's question was greeted by a moment of total silence. When she looked up, the expressions on both their faces sent a spear of alarm through her. Pancho and Rosa exchanged brief uneasy glances and shifted in their chairs.

"Where is Kane? Tell me, Pancho, where is he?"

Pancho opened his mouth, then hesitated, swallowing while he searched for words.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Abby's voice was hollow, for she already knew the answer to her question. It was obvious in their faces. "He left me here and went after Wes alone, didn't he?"

"What did you expect, Abby? If you know Kane at all, you know he'd never take you into a situation as dangerous as the one he's walking into." Pancho's gaze was steady, his tone reproving as he returned her direct stare.

"That's why he brought me here, isn't it? He planned to dump me all the time."

"He had no choice. He couldn't leave you alone at the line shack."

"But I thought...I thought he meant to keep me with him..."

Abby's voice trailed into silence as hurt cut off the words. She blinked back sudden tears, unwilling to cry and show the depths of her feelings to people she had only just met.

"You didn't seriously think he was going to take you into a shoot out with Wes Carlin, did you? Where he's going is no place for a woman, Abby. He's trying to protect you."

"I don't want his protection!" she cried as she pushed her plate away and leaped to her feet. "I have a right to be with him! I need to be with him!"

"And he needs to know that you're safe." Pancho's tone was gentle but authoritative as he returned her belligerent glare. "Taking that money from Wes won't be easy, at best. Knowing that you're out of danger may make it just a little bit easier for him. Will you deny him that?"

"I'll deny him a big piece of my mind!" she snapped as she pushed the chair beneath the table and whirled around.

She flew down the hallway, collected her things, and returned, stuffing her hair beneath the floppy hat once more. Seconds later she was in the barn, flinging the blanket on her horse, cursing Kane under her breath all the while. Angry tears burned her eyes when the animal refused to cooperate. He took a deep breath and held it, swelling his stomach so much she knew the saddle would slip the second he exhaled.

"Let your breath out, you miserable beast!" she demanded with one knee in the horse's side.

"Looks like that horse is the only one around here with good sense."

Pancho's amused voice behind her did not improve her mood. She pointedly ignored both his presence and his comment as she continued yanking on the saddle girth.

"Just how do you plan to find him, young lady? Do you know where he's going?"

"No," Abby admitted, still refusing to look around at him.

"Abby, the best thing you can do for Kane is stay here with us. That's what he wanted."

"I'm getting sick and tired of always doing what he wants!"

"Is that why you've stuck with him through a week of camp food and sleeping on the ground?"

"Do you have a point, Pancho?" she asked through gritted teeth with her head against the stubborn horse's side and pulling with all her strength on the girth to make him exhale.

"If you won't stay for your own safety, Abby, then stay for Kane's. Wes Carlin is a dangerous man. And he's good with a gun...."

"Better than Kane?"

Pancho shrugged as he leaned his forearms on top of the stall. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. My point is that Kane needs every advantage. If he has to be concerned about you too, it gives Wes an edge. That edge might be enough to get Kane killed. And should that happen, what do you think would happen to you? After your first adventure with Wes, I think you probably know the answer to that question."

Pancho smiled when she stopped tugging on the saddle and leaned against the horse to catch her breath while she listened to him.

"I wouldn't get in the way. I've already proven to him that I can ride. I haven't been a minute's trouble since we started out. I can help him."

"Help him right into a grave, Abby. Use your head, child. This is not some fairy tale where the white knight defeats the black prince with a magical sword. This is real. One of those men is probably going to be dead by nightfall. If it's Kane, then I'm going to get you back home safe and sound, just like he asked me to."

"If it's Kane...."

She couldn't finish the thought and her voice faded into silence.

"You love him, don't you?"

Pancho's question caused her to turn around to face him. Her surprise at his boldness dissolved into conviction as she returned his curious gaze.

"Yes."

"Does he know it?"

"No. And it wouldn't matter if he did."

"You're probably right," Pancho agreed while he smoothed his moustache with a callused thumb. "That boy's never loved anybody, probably don't even know how. He's spent his whole life keeping people at arm's length so he don't get hurt."

"What Kane and I share, Pancho, is purely physical. It means nothing to him."

"And you're willing to settle for that? You don't strike me as the kind of woman who'd accept part of a man. I got you figured to be the kind who wants it all, or nothing."

"You'd be wrong," Abby snapped as she took off her hat and slapped the horse's rump with it, making him jump and snort. "As absurd as it seems, I'm willing to take whatever part of Kane he's willing to give me. When this is over, I'm going back to Cimarron and marry someone else and what's happened between Kane and myself will be over. That's that."

"You think so? You're going to marry some other man, whom I assume you don't love. You're not making a whole lot of sense, young lady."

Abby flashed him a rueful smile as she turned back toward the horse. "Life doesn't make any sense lately, Pancho. Not since the moment Kane Darcy rode into Cimarron. And I don't expect it make sense again until he rides out."

She gave another mighty tug on the saddle girth. The horse, tired now of the game, exhaled and sighed as she buckled the girth snugly into place. That done, she stuffed her hair back under the hat and turned to Pancho with a triumphant smile.

"I'm going after him, Pancho. I don't care about the danger, or Wes Carlin. I don't care if the devil himself is waiting out there somewhere. Whatever happens today involves me too. Kane is doing this because of me..."

Pancho nodded in agreement. "That's true. And because of the money."

"He's going after Wes because of me, regardless of what he says."

"Cimarron handed him a sackful of money, fifty thousand dollars he said. Didn't ask too many questions while they did it either. That's a lot of trust for a man who's never been trusted before. That kind of trust makes a man start wondering about himself. He starts asking himself if he's really a better man than he's always thought. Starts thinking about maybe putting down roots, putting the past behind, and building a new life for himself."

"Is that what Kane's doing?" she asked, leading the horse from the stall.

"I expect so. I also expect that he'll do whatever it takes to get that money back and prove to those folks that they had reason to trust him."

"Then I expect I'll be helping him do it."

Pancho laughed softly while she mounted. When she nudged the horse forward, he reached out and caught the bridle. "Just a minute, young lady. You have no idea which direction to take."

"I'll find him somehow...."

"If you'll hold your horses five minutes, I'll be saddled up."

"What do you mean?"

"If you're so hell bent on following him, I reckon I'll just have to go along and make sure you don't get the both of you killed."

Abby's eyes filled with grateful tears. She took the hand Pancho offered her and squeezed it. "Thank you, Pancho."

Pancho cleared his throat noisily. Turning, he took the bridle and moved past the horse toward the next stall where a roan gelding was munching on a manger full of oats.

"Hell, I never liked Wes Carlin anyway," he said with a grin as he plucked the saddle from the form and entered the stall.

***

El Diablo hasn't changed much, Kane thought as he rode down the dusty main street of the outlaw town. Some things never change. If I'm lucky, Wes' interest in that little Mexican gal… what's her name...Candida.. that's it... hasn't changed either. Yeah, if I'm lucky.

Midday in El Jardin de Diablo was like any other afternoon in any other Mexican village. There was only a handful of men on the street. With luck, the rest were all taking their siestas and wouldn't even know he was there until it was over.

He turned down a side street into a sprawling residential area made up of adobe huts used mainly by the town's whores to ply their trade. A wry smile touched his lips as he glanced at each hut in turn as he passed it. There was a time he knew the name of each woman who lived in each hut. Their names and a whole lot more. If he remembered correctly, Candida Morales occupied the last hut on the street.

Remembering the woman was easy enough. She was striking, with long coal black hair and eyes to match, a shape that promised a man everything he'd ever dreamed of, and she delivered. He had sampled her wares on more than one occasion himself until Wes decided to get territorial. After that, whenever he'd been here, he'd found entertainment elsewhere.

I should've known it would come to this eventually. I could've saved myself a whole lot of trouble, and work, if I'd just shot the bastard back then. Then Abby wouldn't have been involved, the town wouldn't have been involved, and I wouldn't be here now.

The thought of Abby made his groin tighten. Standing over the bed before dawn, watching her sleep before he slipped out to avoid waking her, he had come to some startling conclusions. The most important being that for the first time in his life, he had feelings for a woman that went beyond purely physical. How deep those feelings went, he was not ready to dwell on.

At least I don't have to worry about her for the moment. Pancho and Rosa will take good care of her...and if this turns out badly, they'll make sure she gets home. He saw Wes' horse tied up in front of the last hut on the street and drew a deep breath. All right, Kane, stop thinking about Abby and start thinking about Wes. He's too good to underestimate and you know it. Clear your mind, don't think about anything but what you have to do.

He dismounted behind the hut and tied his horse to a low hanging branch. The hut wasn't much bigger than Amos Connors' closet, shaded on three sides by cottonwoods. The front of the hut faced the street and was in the open. There was a window in both sides and two alongside the front door, all covered with thick curtains. The back of the hut where he left the horse was solid with no windows at all.

He walked carefully around the house, removing his Colt as he went, grimacing at the noise his spurs made in spite of his attempt to approach in total silence. Pausing at the front door, he listened intently for a moment but couldn't hear anything from inside. He took one long breath, exhaled, then kicked the door in. A second later a bullet slammed into the doorjamb beside his head.

He ducked, hit the floor, and rolled into the room as more bullets chewed up the rough flooring all around him. He rolled behind a sofa covered with a brightly colored Mexican blanket and yanked off his hat.

"Howdy, Kane, been expecting you!" Wes called from the other side of the room.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting!"

Wes laughed nervously as he busily ejected the spent cartridges from his gun and reloaded. "Not much. I've been keeping busy while I was waiting for you. Glad to see that you didn't disappoint me."

Kane raised up for a second, trying to locate Wes' exact position but two rounds from Wes' pistol persuaded him to keep his head down. The bullets weren't close enough to be harmful but it was only a matter of time until Wes honed in on him. And Wes was too good a shot to miss once he had him in his sights.

"You knew I'd be coming, Wes."

"Sure, I knew. You ain't never had good sense, Kane. And lately, it's been worse than usual."

Kane fired at the sound of Wes' voice and heard the man curse as he shifted positions. He's behind the armoire. Damn thing is probably five feet thick. I need the Winchester to shoot through it. Shit! This sofa is like shooting through a cloud. Gotta keep moving....

He was moving along the backside of the sofa, then finally behind a heavy chest that sat beside it. At last something that had some substance.

"I don't have good sense? You're the one who came up with this stupid idea to rob the bank in Cimarron."

"And it was a damn good plan too," Wes replied as his bullet tore a chunk out of the chest above Kane's head. "I snatch the girl, you rob the bank for me, not a shot is fired. Nobody gets hurt, then you have to get all responsible on me. What the hell happened to you, Kane? You used to be a lot more fun."

"I told you, Wes, I didn't like Yuma."

Kane returned the fire but Wes was firmly ensconced behind the massive armoire. The bullets sent splinters flying but came nowhere close to endangering his prey.

"You think I did? Hell, Kane, that's why I persuaded you to rob the bank. You did all the work, took all the chances, and all I had to do was wait for you to bring me the money. It was a damn good plan."

Wes laughed again, this time with more confidence as he shrank behind the armoire to reload again.

"You're a damned coward, Wes! Using a helpless girl to get what you want!"

Kane emptied his gun into the armoire, cursing silently when Wes remained unscathed. He glanced toward the open door, knowing that getting to the Winchester was out of the question. He had to get Wes in the open. Otherwise he was just wasting ammunition.

"Helpless, my ass!" Wes retorted with a snicker. "I bet she wasn't so helpless when she was panting under you! Was she good, Kane? Come on, tell me about it."

The crude comments made Kane's anger mount, but he knew Wes was trying to bait him into doing something foolish. He refused to take the bait. "Give me the money, Wes, and I'll walk away."

"Sure you will! I know you, Kane, remember? You don't ever walk away from a fight. We finish it here, now. Otherwise, I'll be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life. That's no way to live, even with fifty thousand dollars."

"It beats dying for it. Hand it over, Wes, and let's end this."

"This isn't about the money, Kane, and we both know it. It's about that little gal. I don't get it, Kane. You ain't never been interested in her kind before. What's the attraction?"

"You wouldn't understand it, Wes, if I bothered explaining it."

Kane shot twice at the edge of the armoire, trying to force Wes into the open.

"Hell, Kane," Wes replied after firing back. "She's right pretty, I'll admit that much, but she probably ain't worth a damn in bed. Her kind usually ain't. All prim and proper, too proper to let loose and enjoy it. After all the women you've had, I just plain don't understand what you're getting so bent out of shape about. It ain't like I did anything to her. I didn't even let the boys dip their wicks. You should be thanking me."

Kane gritted his teeth to keep his temper from getting the better of him. A well placed shot from Wes' Colt landed in the chest dangerously close to his head. They were getting nowhere, he thought uneasily. All this shooting was bound to draw attention from the town. The best he could hope for was that they were so accustomed to the sound of gunfire that no one would bother to investigate.

He leaned back against the wall behind the chest to reload, reaching all the way

to the back of the gun belt to locate cartridges. If something didn't give pretty soon he'd be out of ammunition and there was no way of knowing how well armed Wes was. Pretty damned well, he figured, based on the fact that Wes had been anticipating his appearance. Wes more than likely had an arsenal behind that damned armoire with him, and here he was with about fifteen rounds left.

He felt cold sweat drip down his back while he tried to think clearly. It was hard

to do when Wes' bullets kept getting closer.

"Hey, Kane, I got an idea," Wes called shortly.

"Let's hear it, Wes. I'm getting awfully tired of this. My legs are starting to

cramp."

"I was just thinking, fifty thousand dollars is an awful lot of money. What say we

share it? Half for you and half for me?"

"That's real generous, Wes!"

"Well, after all, you did actually steal it. You deserve something for your trouble."

"Yeah, like a bullet in the back? I saw what you did to your boys, Wes. No

thanks!"

"They were stupid, Kane. They were more interested in a bottle of whiskey and a

card game than the money. You're not stupid. We've always worked well together."

"I told you already, I'm through with that life."

While he was talking, Kane inched toward the edge of the chest. He waited until

Wes paused to reload, then dashed from behind the protective cover and flung himself behind the wall separating the living area from the small kitchen. He dropped to his knees as Wes' bullets showered him with splinters and wallpaper. Had he been standing upright, he'd have taken at least three or four bullets.

Okay, smart guy, now what? You've got no place to go and he's holed up behind that damn armoire like a mole. You need dynamite to blast him out of there.

If I could just get to the rifle…. Acting on the thought, he bolted for the open door but a burst of gunfire from Wes' Colt quickly turned the doorjamb into splinters, convincing him it was a very bad idea. He had no choice but to scramble back behind the wall to safety.

He leaned against the cool wooden surface and exhaled sharply. Looking around at the confines of the small room, he realized his only hope of surviving this gun battle was to force Wes from his position. With little ammunition left, he also realized his chances of that were slim. Wes was holding all the cards.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The sound of gunfire made Abby's mouth go dry. She began to shake so badly she was in danger of dropping the reins as she cantered into the outlaw town beside Pancho.

Dear God, so many shots! Please Lord…please… she thought wildly as her horse followed Pancho's mount's lead and broke into a spirited gallop. Pancho seemed to know where he was going and all she could do was hang on and hope they'd reach Kane in time.

The shots became louder as they turned up a narrow street lined with adobe huts. Pancho led the way behind the hut at the end of the street where the gunfire was coming from. Her heart was banging so hard she could hardly breathe when she pulled her horse to a halt alongside Kane's bay. She leaped down from her saddle, pausing only long enough to yank the Winchester from the boot on Kane's saddle, before heading for the front of the house.

"Abby! No!"

She paid no attention to Pancho's warning as she dashed around the side of the small house toward the front. The shots from inside were more intermittent now than before. As she neared the front of the house she could hear Wes Carlin's confident voice.

"That was pretty careless, Kane. I damn near had you that time."

"Yeah, not close enough," she heard Kane reply.

Relief washed over her at the sound of his voice. He was alive! Her relief was short lived when more shots erupted, sending wood flying from the doorjamb close by her head.

Pancho's strong arm around her waist swept her backwards and pinned her to the outside wall moments before a stray shot came through it.

"Stay back, Abby! You'll get yourself killed."

The command in his voice was less forceful than he would have liked, due to the wheezing that accompanied it. Being a heavy man, chasing after the desperate girl had taken more exertion than he wished to expend. He kept her pinned to the wall between the window and the doorway, gasping for breath while he put one finger to his lips in warning.

"Stay back and stay quiet. Don't distract Kane. Do you understand?"

She nodded, unable to speak for the raw terror that seized her vocal cords. While she remained immobile, Pancho inched forward enough to peek through the window. He quickly leaned back against the safety of the wall, looking much too serious for Abby's liking.

"Kane's okay, for the moment. Wes has fixed himself a nice little nest behind an armoire as thick as that oak back there," he said with a motion over his shoulder to where they had left the horses. "Kane can't get a clear shot at him without stepping right into Wes' line of fire and he can't shoot through that damned thing. He's in a tough spot."

"What about the rifle?"

Abby held the Winchester up hopefully.

"Yeah, that would do it. We've just got to get it to him without getting shot ourselves."

Further discussion was postponed by another blast of gunfire from inside. Abby's ears rang from the noise and her throat was so dry she couldn't swallow while she waited for the volley to subside. Sweat trickled down her neck.

She inched toward the open doorway. A quick peek inside before Pancho yanked her back to safety revealed that his assessment of the situation was correct. The wall above Kane's head was punctured with bullet holes. There didn't appear to be an inch of the room that had escaped damage from the gun battle. He was on his knees reloading his pistol, unaware of their presence.

A soft sigh of relief bubbled from her lips to see for herself that he had not been injured. It was also apparent that without the heavier caliber of the rifle, he had little chance of driving Wes from his hiding place. From his vantage point behind the armoire, Wes could see any attempt Kane might make to change positions.

"If we don't do something, all Wes has to do is wait until Kane runs out of ammunition," she whispered to Pancho.

"Right, then when Kane makes a run for the door, Wes'll cut him down."

"How do we get the rifle to him?"

Pancho shook his head. "I'm thinking...the problem is that whoever sticks their head around that door frame to pitch Kane the rifle is going to be directly in Wes' line of fire. And we have to get the rifle to Kane without him having to expose himself"

"Then it should be me." Abby hurried on before Pancho could object. "I'm smaller than you. I make less of a target."

"Oh, no! I'm not letting you put yourself in that kind of danger!"

"Listen to me, Pancho. If you keep Wes busy, he'll have less chance to shoot Kane while I get the rifle to him. I know nothing about guns. If I try to keep him pinned down, I'm likely to shoot Kane by mistake."

She paused, seeing that Pancho was listening intently. "You know I'm right. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Pancho reluctantly nodded. "It's a good plan unless something goes wrong and I don't want to be around to face Kane if you get hurt."

"If it doesn't work, Pancho, it probably won't matter anyway."

She forced a strained smile while she patted the old man's arm. Funny, he's trembling and I'm calm. Scared to death, but calm.

"All right, then. Let's do it."

Pancho moved to the edge of the open door, keeping Abby flattened against the wall behind him. He waited until Kane's gunfire kept Wes behind the armoire for a moment, then made a dash to the opposite side of the doorway. When Wes began shooting back, he plucked his own gun from its holster and fired into the armoire to keep Wes at bay.

The sound of another gun snapped Kane's head around in alarm. Seeing Pancho firing from the doorway sent a stab of dismay through him. "What are you doing? You damned old fool! You're going to get yourself killed!" he shouted but Pancho merely flashed him a momentary grin and shot again at Wes.

Pancho glanced across the open doorway at Abby while he reloaded his pistol. Then, with a nod, he began shooting into the armoire to keep Wes busy.

Abby drew a deep breath, then dashed to the open door. There was no mistaking the astonishment in Kane's face when he saw her, or the instantaneous fury that followed. He was too far into the room to make tossing him the rifle easy. She didn't stop to think about it, but stepped into the room, keeping low, and praying.

"Kane! Catch!"

She moved another step closer to make sure he would be able to catch the rifle. She didn't see the spent cartridges littering the floor until her feet slipped from beneath her. She went down hard. The Winchester flew out of her hands into the air. The fall knocked the breath out of her for a moment so she was unable to do more than gasp in terror when Kane lunged from behind the protective wall to catch the gun.

She heard the whine of Wes' bullet as it tore past her, felt the scorching heat as it ripped through her sleeve. All she saw was Kane's desperate grab for the rifle.

He caught it in mid-air, then hit the floor and rolled, bringing the gun up to his shoulder when he landed on his stomach. A second later the heavy caliber 44.40 Winchester spit fire and lead as it tore chunks from the armoire where Wes was hiding.

The noise from the rifle was deafening. Abby's ears rang from the echo as she gasped for breath and shook her head to clear her vision. She didn't know how many times Kane shot at Wes before she heard a strangled cry. The silence that followed was eerie.

Smoke curled from the barrel of the Winchester while Kane lay motionless on the floor, listening for movement behind the armoire. Several moments passed without anyone making a sound. Then Abby heard Wes slide down the side of the armoire to the floor.

Kane got to his feet and approached warily, keeping the rifle ready should the need arise. When he stepped around the side of the armoire, Wes was sitting on the floor with his back propped against the splintered cabinet. His pistol lay useless at his side.

"Damn you, Kane!" he whispered hoarsely. "You've killed me!"

"That's what you were trying to do to me. Where's the money?""

Wes' lips twisted in a sardonic grin. "Under the bed. You're a fool, Kane. We could've split it...you stupid bastard...."

"You know something, Wes? I've been called that all my life and I've never learned to like it."

Kane kicked Wes' pistol away, then bent to one knee to look under the bed. He retrieved the money bag and got to his feet with a grim smile.

"Kane...if you think...taking the money back…is going to change how those...folks…think about you...you're more stupid than I gave you...credit for. You're gonna always be nothing more…than a gunslinger…a bastard gunslinger….."

Wes' face was frozen with that sardonic smile in place as he died. Kane stepped over his body without a backward glance on his way to the doorway.

"Kane, let's get the hell outa here!" Pancho exclaimed from the doorway. "All this shooting has attracted some attention. We're about to have some company we don't want."

Kane moved quickly toward the doorway, then halted, his gaze frozen on Abby. The color drained from his face as he stared at her, finally causing her to look down to see the cause of his concern.

The right sleeve of her shirt was bloody from the shoulder to the elbow. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She hadn't even felt the bullet that nicked her, only its heat as it passed by.

"My God, Abby's been shot!" she heard Kane exclaim hoarsely.

"It's only a scratch, Kane, I swear! It doesn't even hurt!"

"Come on, you two! Let's go!" Pancho urged as he reached inside and caught Abby by the shoulder. "Here, stuff my kerchief around it until we can get home."

She took the kerchief he thrust at her and wrapped it around the tear in her shirt sleeve as she followed him out the door and down the porch toward the back of the house where the horses waited.

There wasn't time to reflect on the wound or the concern in Kane's eyes as they quickly mounted and rode down the alley toward the edge of town. It wasn't until they had left the village in the dust that she allowed herself to look at the wound.

She pulled the bloody kerchief off and lifted her sleeve to take a peek, gritting her teeth as the first waves of pain began.

"How bad is it?"

She glanced at Kane's worried face and swallowed hard. "It's just a scratch, Kane. Nothing to worry about."

"We'll be home soon. Rosa will have her fixed up good as new before you know it." Pancho's voice was jovial as he flashed her a wide grin. "Right now let's just concentrate on getting there without anymore trouble."

Kane glanced over his shoulder and gave a sigh of relief to see that they were not being pursued. He tucked the money bag into his saddle bag as he rode, then turned back to Abby.

"Just what in the hell were you thinking back there? You could've been killed!"

"So could you!" she said, in the same accusatory tone he had used. "The way I saw it, you stood no chance against Wes without a rifle. I merely provided one for you."

"And damned near got yourself killed in the process! Of all the stupid, careless stunts…."

Abby smiled as he continued berating her for taking such a chance, knowing that he was covering his concern for her with anger. Finally, she reached across the distance separating them as they rode and gripped his hand.

"I was worried about you too, Kane. It's okay."

The expression in his eyes changed from narrowed glittering slits to something much warmer, filling her with emotions she forced to the back of her mind. What I see in your eyes, Kane, is the answer to all my questions. For both our sakes, I hope you never voice it. I couldn't bear to hear it but I know how you feel about me just the same.

She wrapped the kerchief back around her bleeding arm and chewed her lip as they rode through the humid afternoon. Knowing the man you love, loves you back should make a woman happy, but it's breaking my heart. Tears welled up in her eyes but she shook her head and drew a deep breath of resolution. We have the money now. It's only a few more days until we'll return home with it. I'll marry Frederick like my father wants and you'll go on your way out of my life.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she risked a glance at him. He wasn't looking at her, but straight ahead, his head up, his jaws clenched, his shoulders tensed.

A few more days, that's what we have together. She squared her shoulders, wincing at the pain in her arm. I intend to make the best of them.

CHAPTER FORTY

"How do you feel?"

Abby looked up in the mirror and smiled. Kane lay on the bed across the room with his hands folded behind his head while he watched her brush her hair. His question was casually posed but the expression in his eyes revealed the true extent of his concern.

"The truth is, I feel wonderful after a hot bath and a good meal. I'm fine, Kane, really. It doesn't even hurt much since Rosa cleaned and bandaged it for me."

"You were damned lucky!"

She nodded and continued brushing her hair, still keeping an eye on him in the mirror. "I know."

She saw his gaze touch the bandage on her upper right arm and then saw him swallow before allowing their gazes to meet in the mirrors reflection. A thrill went through her at the instantaneous heat that lit his eyes.

The nightgown Rose had loaned her after her bath was a simple cotton garment with short sleeves and a high neckline that tied with a ribbon, but its simplicity only emphasized her beauty. A smile came to her lips at the appreciation she saw on Kane's face.

"How am I going to explain to your mother that I let you get shot?"

"You didn't let me do anything. It was my decision to follow you and my decision to throw you the rifle. And, if you'll admit it, you know it was the right thing to do."

"Oh really?"

The amusement in Kane's voice made her smile again. She pulled Rosa's brush through her long hair while keeping her gaze locked with his in the mirror. The sight of him stretched out on the bed, wearing only his trousers and socks, made her blood race. She had to wet her lips and think hard for a moment to remember the conversation before she could reply to his question.

"Yes. I had to do something. Otherwise, Wes would have waited until you ran out of ammunition and then shot you when you tried to get out the door and get the rifle off your horse. And without the rifle, there was no way you could even up the odds."

"You took a big chance, and look what happened."

She glanced at the bandage on her arm before allowing her eyes to meet his in the mirror again. "It was very simple really. Pancho wanted to be the one who threw you the rifle, but he's much larger than I. It only made sense that I be the one. I was a much smaller target. Had Pancho done it, he'd most likely be dead now, and quite possibly, so would you."

"He still needs his ass kicked for letting you talk him into following me."

"He knew I was determined. He wouldn't let me go alone so he came with me. It's not his fault. I take full responsibility."

Kane's smoldering gaze was filled with admiration for a moment while he reflected on her defense of his old friend. "Of all people, I should know how persuasive you can be, when it suits your purposes," he said with a grin after a moment. "I did let you talk me into coming with me after the money, didn't I? I guess I can't very well stay mad at Pancho for doing the same thing."

Her bright smile lit the darkening room as the sun sank behind the mountain range. "And a darn good thing I did too, Mr. Darcy. Let's see…" she said, putting a finger to her lips in thought. "How many times does this make that I've actually come to your rescue? Two…three?"

"Keeping score, are you?"

Kane's soft chuckle made her heart race. A glance at him in the mirror confirmed her suspicions about what this night would bring, causing her blood to heat in her veins.

"Not exactly, just…keeping track, in case I ever need to call in a favor or two."

"I see. First I owe the judge, now I owe you? I'll be in debt the rest of my life."

"I'm sure we can think of some way to work it off, don't you?"

While she watched him in the mirrored reflection, Kane's expression changed from humorous to serious. "We'll be leaving for Cimarron in the morning, Abby. This grand adventure is over. We’ve recovered the money, Wes is dead, and there's no reason to stay in Mexico any longer."

She waited, sure that he was coming to a point, but not at all sure she wanted to hear it. She began brushing her hair again in long even strokes, averting her gaze from his for fear her emotions were all too clear.

"Unless…."

"Unless what?"

"Unless we decide to stay here. Not go back."

His tone was very casual, so deliberately casual that she knew instinctively he was not casual at all. She risked a glance at him, feeling her throat go dry at the implications in his statement.

"Stay here?" When he nodded, she swallowed hard. "The two of us? Together?"

"Why not? We seem to be…I don't know…good together."

"What about the money?"

"I'd send it back, of course, unless I want Amos Connors dogging my tracks the rest of my life. I meant what I told Wes, Abby. I'm through with that life. I can start over here...like Pancho did…have a good life…with you."

Abby's eyes widened with surprise. In her wildest dreams, she had never expected this. For a moment, her heart soared. Then tears burned her eyes when she remembered her vow to her father. She wondered if Kane could hear her heart breaking in the quiet room while he awaited her response.

"I can't. I have to go back."

"Why? Because of Frederick? There is no way in hell you'll ever convince me that you love him, Abby."

The strain in Kane's voice made her eyes burn even more. He was looking down to avoid her gaze, afraid his own expression would reveal emotions he was not prepared to deal with. And that's just as well, she thought miserably.

"Frederick is part of it, of course. And good marriages are built on things other than undying love," she said softly.

"Such as?"

"Dependability, respect, security. I have a good future with Frederick. And my mother needs me," she hurriedly added to cut off any argument Kane might be thinking. "My father is very ill. He may be for a very long time. Dr. Weaver says he will probably never recover, maybe he won't. In any case, my mother desperately needs my help, both with my father, and with the store."

"What about school? Have you given that up?"

She nodded, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. "I can't go away and leave my mother to deal with my father's illness alone. She needs me."

"And Frederick?"

"I'm going to marry Frederick and make a life with him."

"Just like that? You're going from my bed to his without so much as a blink?"

Abby tried to ignore the confusion that lay beneath the surface in his voice. She glanced at him in the mirror but he was still looking down to avoid meeting her gaze. She attacked her hair with the brush in an attempt to keep her hands busy so their trembling wouldn't betray her.

"What you and I share, Kane, is wonderful, but it's only physical. It's not the stuff lifetimes are made of," she said in a voice so calm she was amazed at herself. "It's been wild and exciting but like you said, it's time to go back to reality. My reality is marriage to Frederick, a family, security."

"I see. So what you're saying is that I'm good enough to fuck, but not good enough for anything else?"

"That's not what I said at all," she replied, gripping the brush so tightly her knuckles were paling. "You're not a marrying man, Kane. You know that as well as I. In a few weeks your interest in me will wane and you'll be looking for someone new. It's how you are…how you'll always be. I've known that all along. I expect nothing more."

"Tell me one thing."

She met his gaze in the mirror and waited anxiously. She wondered if he could hear her teeth grinding with the attempt to keep from shouting out her true feelings for him.

"Tell me you love Frederick. Make me believe that and I won't bring it up again."

She lifted her chin, remembering what she'd promised her father, and drew in a long breath. "I love him."

Kane shook his head. "I heard you tell your father the morning of his stroke that you loved me. Was that a lie?"

Abby's face paled slightly. She had no idea he'd overheard that outburst. Wetting her lips, she swallowed, forcing herself to maintain contact with his mocking gaze. "I probably said a lot of things that morning. I was very angry…and frightened. I don't recall saying that."

Kane stared at her for a very long moment before he nodded slightly and looked away.

"You seem surprised, Kane," Abby said softly. She turned on the vanity stool to face him finally, laying the brush aside while she gave him her full attention. "You shouldn't be. I'm no different from any of a thousand other women you've known. You're a very impressive man, Kane. You're undoubtedly the most handsome creature God ever put on this earth, but you're also strong, courageous, and kind. You have every attribute necessary to make women fall in love with you. And you've made good use of those attributes over the years.

"So you shouldn't be surprised that a woman…that I…can appreciate those qualities and still know when it's time to move on. I've enjoyed every minute I've spent in your arms. I will always treasure the time we've spent together, and yes, I'm sure I'll think about you when I'm making love to Frederick for a long time. But he can give me the things I want in life…trust, fidelity, respectability. You couldn't give that to me, or any other woman, if your life depended on it. Could you?"

Kane got up off the bed and walked toward her with his thumbs hooked in his belt. He halted a few feet from her and shook his head.

"No, I guess not," he said finally. A slow lazy grin came to his lips while he stared at her. "So I guess we'll have to make do with the things I am good for."

He came closer and untied the ribbon holding the nightgown together. He pushed the garment down off one shoulder, then the other, keeping her gaze locked with his through sheer intensity. Then he put his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet.

"At least I am good for something," he murmured a second before his mouth claimed hers in a fiery kiss that forced his conflicting emotions to the back of his mind. Willing passion to replace thought, he pushed the gown down her body until it swirled around her feet. "May as well make use of it while we can."

Abby nodded as she weakly leaned into his embrace. She returned his kisses with equal fervor, running her hands over his body hungrily, eager to merge her passion into his. Anything to keep from thinking.

Her trembling fingers loosened his belt buckle, then ran her hands inside his trousers, cupping his buttocks, reveling in his arousal burning against her belly.

"I want you, Kane," she whispered softly against his lips. "I want to feel you deep inside me."

"Yes, ma'am. If that's what you want, that's what you'll get. I aim to satisfy."

Abby deliberately ignored the sarcastic ring in his voice as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Later she would have to think about the hurt she saw in his eyes when she lied to him about her feelings.

Love you? More than my own life, Kane Darcy. But I have to do what papa wants. I owe it to him. He's so ill because of me…my feelings for you…oh, God, I love you so much!

She pushed those painful thoughts away, to be taken out later, examined and dealt with. For now, she only felt his mouth on her breasts, bringing her nipples to flinty peaks, felt him enter her with a passion so strong it took her breath.

He was rougher than he'd ever been. His hands and mouth were fierce, his body thrusting into her with such force he was hurting her, but she didn't protest. She knew he was punishing her and knew he wasn't even aware of it. She also knew she deserved it.

It was over much faster than usual. In spite of his roughness, or maybe because of it, she found her orgasm quickly and powerfully. A second later, his body arched against her. His breath exploded from his straining lungs as he shuddered with his own orgasm. Moments later, he rolled off her and drew her into his embrace, holding her more tenderly now.

Neither of them spoke. There was nothing more to say. Abby curled into his embrace, placing one hand on his damp, heaving chest so she could feel his heart pounding against her palm until his breathing normalized and he went to sleep.

It's finished, she thought miserably. She knew instinctively that this was the last time they'd be together like this. We leave for home in the morning. In a few days, we'll be nothing more than polite strangers again. I'll have to find some way of dealing with the memories of all the nights like this, all the feelings I have that will never be resolved.

She leaned forward to kiss his mouth while he slept. Smiling at the inherent way he responded to her touch, even in sleep, she inhaled deeply, then let out the breath in a long sigh.

Goodnight, my love.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Abby watched the frenzy in Cimarron as though it were a dream. From the moment Kane had stopped in a little Texas border town to send the wire telling Judge Connors that not only were they both still alive, but on their way home with the money, she had dreaded the moment when they would arrive. It was even worse than she had imagined.

Her mother burst into happy tears at the sight of her. Frederick swung her off her horse into a passionate embrace that was made even more embarrassing by the mocking gleam in Kane's eyes as he witnessed it.

Within moments of their arrival outside the bank, the entire town had assembled. Quiet in the beginning, when it became obvious that Kane had brought her and the town's money back safely, the gathering quickly became loud and boisterous. Amid the shouts of surprise, and gratitude, Abby watched his quiet, unassuming manner.

He was dead tired, sweaty and dirty from a week in the saddle with little rest, his lean face obscured by a week's growth of beard, but the glint in his dark eyes was one Abby alone recognized. It was pride.

She felt it too. It welled up within her heart, threatening to make itself obvious to everyone, but one glance at the bedroom window that faced the street quelled it immediately. Her father sat there in his chair, the curtains pulled back to allow the midday sun to warm his shrunken frame. She felt his gaze boring into her, silently reminding her of the vow she'd made.

She took a shaky breath and forced a smile as Frederick's arm around her waist drew her attention back to the moment. With Frederick on one side, and her mother on the other, she was able to put the image of her father's disapproving scowl from her mind. Gratefully, she watched Kane hand Mr. Gaston the bag of money, amid a loud round of applause from the townspeople.

"It's a little short, Mr. Gaston. We…I had to use a few dollars for provisions along the way. I figure you can take it out of my last pay."

Kane's voice was calm, his gaze watchful as Frederick's father took the bag.

He didn't open it, however, but stuck it underneath his arm as he extended his hand to Kane. "Mr. Darcy…Kane…whatever you had to use, don't give it a second thought. This town owes you a great deal more than a few dollars. You've brought our Abby back safely, and recovered the town's money. We are forever in your debt."

Kane stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, then gripped it briefly in a firm handshake while the town applauded.

Kane half turned to walk away, but Mr. Gaston maintained his grip until Kane turned back. There was a tiny smile on Mr. Gaston's face as he reached into his expensive coat pocket.

"Kane, when we got your wire, I called a meeting of the town council. We took a vote and the result was unanimous. The people of Cimarron authorized me to ask you to accept this." He opened his hand. In it was the shiny U.S. Marshal's badge Kane had flung across the room at Amos weeks earlier. "You've done a fine job as marshal. We'd all be mighty grateful if you'd accept the job."

Kane looked at Amos, who was standing beside Mr. Gaston. There was a very pleased smile on his face, but he shrugged at Kane's questioning expression.

"Don't look at me, boy. I had nothing to do with this. The town council had this thing all settled before I knew anything about it." His expression sobered while his sharp blue gaze locked with Kane's. "It's your decision, boy."

Kane glanced around at the watching, suddenly silent crowd. His gaze seemed to touch each person in turn, then rested on Abby's uneasy face. He looked from her to Frederick, then back again before making up his mind.

"I hadn't planned on staying around," he said quietly. "In fact, that was the last thing on my mind." His gaze, defiant and deliberate, touched Abby again as he reached for the badge. "But then, I don't have anywhere to be right away. All right, Mr. Gaston, I accept the job."

There was another outburst of applause while he pinned the tin star onto his vest and shook hands with Mr. Gaston once more. But his gaze was locked with Abby's, his cool, even scornful, hers confused and alternating swiftly between dismay and total joy.

"Some things in Cimarron have kinda grown on me," he added with a slight grin, now directing his attention to the townspeople. Some, more than others, he thought to himself, wondering why on earth he'd just made this ridiculous agreement.

***

It was late afternoon when Abby awoke from her nap. Soon after Kane accepted the marshal's job, her mother had hustled her off where a hot bath and a home cooked meal awaited. She had almost fallen asleep at the table. It had taken every ounce of her remaining strength to look in on her father before giving in to the urge for a long nap.

The accusatory expression on Josiah Prescott's face made her stomach lurch. He had not improved much during her absence. He was still shrunken and frail, still unable to speak, but there was no mistaking the disapproval in his eyes. However this illness had affected him, the condemnation in his one good eye could still make Abby tremble.

She had quickly forced a bright greeting, kissed him on the cheek, and made her escape, feeling guilty for fleeing. But even the grim reality of his illness, and her vow to him could not keep her from falling quickly into a deep sleep. Days on a horse, riding beside a man who had done little more than grunt at her on the return trip, and knowing what awaited her in Cimarron had worn her out completely. She no longer had the strength to fight the conflicting emotions raging within her.

Now, she folded her hands behind her head, enjoying the comfort of her own bed. A summer shower had cooled the August heat temporarily so that a pleasant breeze played with the bedroom curtains. She yawned and stretched, reluctant to get out of bed.

There was a soft tap at her door. A moment later Deirdre appeared through it with a bright smile in place. "Abigail, you've got company, dear. Betsy has been pacing the living room for an hour, but I insisted that you not be awakened any sooner."

"Let her in, mother. I haven't seen her in so long...."

Deirdre smiled at the wistfulness in Abby's face, then stepped back to allow a bundle of exotic energy into the room.

Betsy bounded across the room and leaped onto the bed in a very unladylike fashion. The girls hugged each other enthusiastically, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Abby, I'm so glad you're home! I've missed you so much! Are you all right? What happened? Tell me everything!"

Abby laughed at Betsy's breathless exuberance as she extracted herself from Betsy's embrace. She lay back on the pillows and quickly filled Betsy in on the events of the past three weeks.

When she finished, Betsy's eyes were wide with amazement. She gently touched the clean bandage around Abby's upper arm. "Oh my! Does it hurt?"

"Not now. It didn't really hurt much, even at the time. It wasn't at all what I expected a gunshot wound to feel like."

"Poo! You're just being brave. I can't imagine doing something so brave. Putting yourself in the line of fire so you could rescue Mr. Darcy. Abby, this is just so exciting!"

"If you think having bullets flying at you is exciting," Abby replied with a slight smile at the memory. "And I didn't rescue Kane at all. I just... helped... him out a little, that's all."

"You think he's pretty wonderful, don't you?"

Betsy's insightful question brought a quick flash of color to Abby's pale cheeks.

"Yes. He is pretty wonderful, Bets. In spite of all that happened, I wouldn't trade

these past three weeks for the world."

'"What are you going to do about it, Abby?"

"About what?"

Betsy snorted impatiently. "About Mr. Darcy, about your engagement to Frederick. Surely you don't intend to go through with the marriage now."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Betsy stared at her incredulously, her eyes wide with astonishment. "After you and Mr. Darcy... well, you know. You can't seriously still want to marry Frederick after that."

Abby pushed back the sheet and got out of bed. She padded across the room in her bare feet and cotton gown to her vanity. Picking up her brush, she began furiously brushing her hair, as though such a simple act could erase her frustration.

"One thing has nothing to do with the other, Bets." The bewildered expression on Betsy's face only added to her disheartenment. "I don't expect you to understand it. It's all very confusing."

"No, Abby, I don't understand. You obviously have deep feelings for Mr. Darcy. And he asked you to stay with him in Mexico..."

"Yes, but he never said anything at all about marriage. I think he would choke on the word if he tried. Face it, Bets, Kane's feelings for me go about as deep as a pin prick. Deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to mean anything."

"You mean that he's only interested in...you know...."

"Now you're getting the picture, Betsy," Abby said with a sigh. "It simply doesn't matter what my feelings are. He doesn't feel the same way. It's purely physical to him. A week from now, a month from now he won't even remember."

"But you'll never forget."

Betsy had no idea how true that statement was, Abby thought sadly.

"But that's all in the past now, Bets." She pasted a smile on her face as she laid the hair brush aside. "I'm getting married in two weeks. There's a thousand things to do and I'm three weeks behind. Have you been keeping up with the details?"

"Of course, I have," Betsy assured her with a skeptical glance. "Your mother and Mrs. Gaston have been working like demons on your dress and the arrangements. The invitations were sent out last week, and my dress is almost finished. I think working on the wedding plans is about all that kept your mother sane through all this. And knowing that you were in good hands."

"I was in good hands, for sure, Betsy. Even when all those bullets were flying...I know it sounds silly, but I felt so good… so confident. I wouldn't have been anywhere else but right there with Kane. He'd saved my life at the line shack. How could I not do everything I could to help him then?"

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Yes, Betsy, I do." She shook herself and smiled. "But, I have a good life awaiting me with Frederick, and a wedding to get ready for."

"Abby, suppose Mr. Darcy asked you to marry him, would you still insist on marrying Frederick?"

"That's not going to happen, Bets. Kane Darcy is not a marrying man."

"That doesn't answer my question. What if he did?"

The memory of her promise to her father flashed through Abby's mind, making her sigh unhappily. "Betsy, I can't live my life based on "what ifs". I'm going to marry Frederick. Period."

"Isn't it going to be difficult to meet Mr. Darcy on the street and look him in the face? How are you going to feel about that, about him staying in town?"

"I hadn't planned on that," Abby admitted. She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I thought once we were home safely, he'd leave town. I had no idea that I'd have to face him day after day. I guess it's something I'll have to deal with."

"You know he'll be seeing other women. How are you going to feel about that?"

"I'm going to be so happy with Frederick, Betsy, that the women Kane Darcy sees won't affect me in the least," Abby answered confidently while she flashed a determined smile at Betsy's dubious expression.

I won't think about that. Besides, if he can stand it, so can I.

***

"You must've been starving, boy."

Amos leaned back from the table in the hotel restaurant. He lit a fragrant cigar and smiled through the smoky haze as Kane dug into his third helping of chicken and dumplings. Kane had bathed, shaved, changed into clean clothes, and had a long nap before accepting Amos' dinner invitation. He looked rested now, but still trail weary to Amos' practiced eye.

"Never have liked my own cooking, Judge," Kane replied between bites.

"What's the matter? Couldn't young Miss Prescott cook over a campfire?"

Kane shook his head, too busy enjoying his food to answer.

"Well, I'm sure Miss Prescott is good at other things, even if she can't cook."

Kane's brows arched at the humor in Amos' voice as he shot the judge a disgruntled glance across the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Amos exhaled a plume of cigar smoke, leveling a direct icy blue stare at Kane. "Don't play innocent with me, boy. I saw the way you looked at her when

Wilford Gaston offered you the job. The only reason on this earth that you accepted it was because of Miss Abigail Prescott. We both know it. And there's only one reason you'd stay in Cimarron because of her."

"And just what might that be?"

Amos smiled at the defensive way Kane stared back at him. "You've got balls, boy. I'll give you that. You waltz back into town like the conquering hero. These people are mighty damned grateful that you brought the bank's money back, and they should be. You could've gotten yourself killed doing it."

"But I didn't."

"No, you didn't," Amos agreed mildly. "You got the money back, rescued Miss Prescott, hell, you even managed to slay the dragon, figuratively speaking."

"You got a problem with that?"

Amos shook his head with a thin smile. "No, I'm downright proud of you, boy. You did a hell of a job. No professional lawman I've ever seen could've done better."

"Then what's your point?" Kane's voice was wary, his expression suspicious as he met Amos' direct gaze without blinking.

"It's the other thing you did on this little excursion that bothers me."

"Judge, spit it out, will you? All this conversation is beginning to spoil my appetite."

Amos squinted at him through a haze of smoke. "You and Miss Abigail Prescott shared a lot more than conversation on this little adventure." He held up a hand to ward off Kane's denial. "Don't tell me you didn't, because it was written all over her. When you accepted the marshal's job, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry."

Kane laid his knife and fork down, pushed his plate away, and stared back at Amos.

"What do you want, Judge? A confession? I don't owe you an explanation. I don't

owe you shit!"

"No, you don't," Amos agreed mildly, amused at the anger that made Kane's dark eyes glitter. "But what about what you owe Abby?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't owe her anything either."

"Don't you?"

'No, I don't. Abby is a grown woman. She made her own decisions. Nobody forced her, if that's what you're thinking."

Amos shook his head. "I'm not suggesting that at all, Kane. I just hope you didn't make her promises in the heat of the moment that you don't intend to keep."

"I didn't promise her anything, Your Honor! I don't have anything to offer her that she wants."

A slow smile crept across Amos' face at the mixture of anger and dismay in Kane's expression. "Oh, I find that hard to believe. I'm betting you have exactly what she wants, if the look on her face was any indication."

"You'd be wrong. I asked her to stay in Mexico with me. She chose to come back to Cimarron and marry that… little horse turd."

"Did you ask her to marry you?"

Kane blinked at the question. Then he slowly shook his head. "No. She politely pointed out that I don't represent the kind of future she wants."

"And what would that be?"

"Security, respectability, kids, a rose covered cottage surrounded by a white picket fence… how the hell do I know? The one thing I know for damned sure is that she thinks I'm not good enough for her."

"You really believe that?" Amos asked as he handed Kane an unlit cigar and a match.

"She made it pretty damn clear. As far as she's concerned, the only thing I'm good for is a good healthy roll in the hay!"

Amos didn't know whether to smile or frown at the thinly concealed anguish in Kane's voice. When Kane uncharacteristically looked away and swallowed, Amos felt a surge of what he suspected was parental protectiveness.

"You want more than that, boy? You want a future with this girl?"

"It don't much matter what I want, Judge. She wants Frederick Gaston, not me."

"Then why did you take the job? Why put yourself in the position of hanging around to watch her marry somebody else, have his children? Why do that to yourself?"

Kane shrugged while he squinted at Amos through the cigar smoke. "Damned if I know."

Amos smiled as he got to his feet. He laid a five dollar gold piece on the table to pay for their meal, then paused to lay a comforting hand on Kane's shoulder. "Think about it, boy. If you're as bright as I think you are, you'll figure it out sooner or later."

He patted Kane's shoulder, then ambled out the door.

Kane turned in his chair to watch Amos leave. Turning back to the table, he pushed his unfinished plate further away with an annoyed grunt. He rubbed one hand over his freshly shaved face and closed his eyes briefly. I don't want to think it, Judge. I want to get very drunk. That's all I want right now. I don 't want to ever think about Abby again. Because if I do... oh, hell.... that's pretty damned useless. She's made up her mind and we'll both just have to live with it.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Two evenings later Abby saw Kane for the first time since their return. She was coming out of the hotel restaurant on Frederick's arm when they almost bumped into Kane and a dark haired woman. One glance was enough to tell Abby who this woman was, and where they were going.

Her heart leaped into her throat at the polite, cool way Kane tipped his hat to her as he escorted the woman into the hotel lobby. She couldn't help looking after them, and feeling her heart break as he led the woman up the stairs to his room. Even worse was the cynical, humorless smile that he flashed her from the stair landing before turning down the corridor.

Dear Lord, is it going to hurt this badly every time I see him with another woman? How will I ever bear knowing that in a few moments that woman will be in his arms... in my place. It should be me…

Frederick's gentle nudge broke into her thoughts. He led her up the boardwalk toward her home, one arm securely around her shoulders, the other holding her hand. She knew he meant to be attentive, but she only felt smothered. It had been this way since she returned home.

"Looks like Marshal Darcy is back to his old ways," Frederick remarked, completely unaware of her inner turmoil. "Didn't take him long. For the life of me, I can't understand why this town thinks he deserves the marshal’s job! Why, even my father jumped on the bandwagon."

"Perhaps it's because he recovered the town's money," Abby said, wishing he would change the subject.

"Which wouldn't have been necessary if not for him. It was his outlaw comrades that caused all the trouble. You were kidnapped and shot, for heaven's sake! Not to mention being exposed to dangers and unspeakable improprieties. You could have been killed, or even worse, Abby. I just thank God that you got home safely in spite of Kane Darcy."

"It's only because of Kane Darcy that I got home at all, Frederick," she reminded him quietly as they stepped off the boardwalk and waited for a pair of mounted cowboys to ride past. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

Frederick immediately kissed her hand, then pressed it to his chest. "Of course, Abby. I'm so sorry to have brought up it up. You've been through a terrible ordeal. But that's all behind us now, darling. In little more than a week, we'll be married and this entire nightmare will be forgotten."

He continued prattling about what a splendid future they had, but Abby's frazzled senses could not stay focused on his conversation. As resigned as she was to marrying Frederick, the only thing she could think about at the moment was what was happening in a room on the second floor of the hotel, and wishing it was she in Kane Darcy's arms.

***

Kane stood at the window, looking down on main street. He watched Frederick escort Abby up the back stairs of the Prescott home, pause at the door to take her in his arms, and kiss her passionately.

Kane flung the billowing curtains back into place to block out the scene, then turned to his companion with a bitter smile.

"You're sure, Kane?" the pretty prostitute asked as she crossed the room and put her hand on the doorknob.

"I'm sure, Sue. Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not in the mood tonight."

The girl sighed regretfully as she stared at him. He was a sight to behold. Wearing a royal blue shirt tucked into dark trousers, and the black leather vest accented by the marshal's badge, he was delicious looking.

"You haven't been in the mood at all lately. Ever since you got back from Mexico actually. Is something wrong?"

Kane forced a grin as he shook his head. He leaned back against the window sill with both hands palm down while he studied her petulant pout. "No, nothing's wrong. Guess I'm still just tired. You run along now. You're losing money every minute you're up here."

The girl sighed again, then blew him a kiss before swaying out the door. When she'd gone, Kane turned back to the window and looked again toward the Prescott house. Frederick had gone, it seemed. He saw Abby moving around in the front bedroom, which he knew was occupied by Josiah Prescott. While he watched, she moved around the bed, kissed her father's brow, and sat down beside him. A moment later, she took out a book and began reading to him.

Kane could not hear what she was reading, of course, but he pictured the curve of her lips as she read, those images emblazoned on his memory like a smoldering brand. He stood at the window for a long time watching her shadow on the curtains up the street, wishing he knew how to ease the ache in his chest.

***

Kane looked up from the dog eared dime novel he was reading when the marshal's office door opened. The sight of Deirdre Prescott caused him to quickly take his feet off the battered old desk and rise.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," Deirdre said as she closed the door behind her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Prescott. Is there something I can do for you?"

Deirdre flashed him a bright smile as she approached the desk where he stood. She noticed the suspicion in his expression as she put a basket on the desk. "No, Mr. Darcy, you've already done the most important thing for me that you could possibly ever do."

"Ma'am?"

"You brought my daughter home safely, Mr. Darcy. A mother can ask no more of any man." She indicated the basket with its checkered cloth tucked neatly around the edges. "I made you a little something. I thought you might enjoy a nice apple pie. It's fresh from the oven."

"That's very nice of you, Mrs. Prescott, but totally unnecessary."

"No, Mr. Darcy, such a small thing cannot begin to let you know how much I appreciate all you've done for my family."

You wouldn't think so, Mrs. Prescott, if you knew everything….

Kane did not voice the thought, but shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. The pie smelled wonderful, reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet today, but Deirdre's gratitude made him very uncomfortable.

"I'm just sorry the whole thing happened at all, ma'am. I feel responsible for all the trouble."

"Because Wes Carlin came here looking for you?" she asked. Her direct gaze locked with his, giving her the impression that she was making him very uneasy. She wondered why.

"That wasn't your fault, Mr. Darcy. You cannot hold yourself responsible for the actions of a man like that."

"That's very generous of you, ma'am, considering that Abby got kidnapped and shot and the whole town got caught up in his plan."

"Abby was very fortunate that you were available to come to her rescue, Mr. Darcy. As for the town? We're all grateful that you were able to recover the money. It must have been tempting…"

"To keep it?" Kane grinned at the flush that leaped to Deirdre's features when she realized what she'd said. "Yes, ma'am, it was very tempting. And to be honest, ma'am, I seriously considered it."

Deirdre laughed, a bright merry sound that was so much like Abby's it made Kane even more uncomortable. "You are an honest man, Mr. Darcy, if naught else. Well, I best be getting back. I don't like to leave Josiah alone for more than a few minutes."

"Alone, ma'am?"

"Yes, Abby is at the Gaston's this morning working on the menu for the reception."

Deirdre saw the momentary flash of distress in Kane's eyes and mentally reproved herself. She considered commenting on it but thought better of it. She was not at all convinced of Abby's reasons for marrying Frederick and it was obvious that Kane Darcy did not want to talk about it. Being the lady that she was, she patted the basket and smiled at him reassuringly.

"Well, I do hope you'll enjoy the pie, Mr. Darcy."

She quickly retraced her steps to the office door.

"Mrs. Prescott, how is Mr. Prescott?"

She turned to meet Kane's serious gaze, a bit surprised that his question seemed to be asked out of genuine concern. "He's actually better since Abby's return home, Mr. Darcy. He was very distressed while she was away. I tried not to let him know what had actually taken her away, but he insisted on knowing."

"Insisted? I understood that he was not able to speak, Mrs. Prescott."

"Oh, he can't, Mr. Darcy. However, my Josiah is a very resourceful man. He communicates with us by writing on a pad. Oh, it's not very legible most of the time, but we are able to figure out what he means with a bit of effort."

She forced a smile to cover the distress in her voice. "I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy, that you didn't have the opportunity to get to know Josiah better. I know he was very rude to you, but he truly is a wonderful man. I'm just sorry you didn't have the chance to see that side of him."

"I imagine that was because of the judge, ma'am."

Her brows arched at his remark. While she awaited an explanation, Kane shrugged and flashed her an embarrassed grin. "I mean, he knew about you and the judge, years ago. He must have known that I'm…didn't he?"

"He figured that out with one look at you, Mr. Darcy. You look very much like your mother. And your name? Josiah put all the pieces together very quickly. It was a very difficult situation for him…I'm not making excuses for him, Mr. Darcy, I'd just like you to understand."

"I do, ma'am. I can see where he'd take an instant dislike to me. I'm sorry too. I wish things could've been different."

Deirdre smiled slightly as she opened the door and passed through it. Instead of feeling better, this visit had only made her more uneasy. Kane Darcy obviously had feelings for Abby, and she knew how Abby felt about him. This wasn't adding up at all, but Abby refused to discuss it. Her daughter was determined to marry Frederick, and the sooner the better.

Amos would laugh at her intuition, she thought as she hurried back home, but she knew something just wasn't right. She only wished she knew what it was.

***

It had been a perfectly horrid day for Abby. She'd spent the morning at Mrs. Gaston's trying to act enthusiastic about planning a menu for the reception, when the truth was she didn't care if there was a reception. It took constantly reminding herself that this was a necessary part of the process to get through it.

She really liked Frederick's mother. Annabelle Gaston was from the Deep South, a dinosaur from the antebellum period who had very stringent ideas about how things were properly done. She repeatedly asked Abby's opinion on matters, then promptly answered her own questions, but Abby didn't mind a bit. It was just something else that she didn't have to worry about. She supposed Mrs. Gaston's pushy manner would have really bothered her if she'd had her heart into this planning, but she didn't. She was going through the motions, trying to be cheerful, but it was all an act that she wasn't at all sure she could keep up.

Now, after the planning session with Mrs. Gaston, and an afternoon of taking care of business in the store, she sat in the cane rocker drawn up to her father's bed. He had sat up part of the afternoon, but now he was exhausted from the effort. Dr. Weaver thought it was a good idea to get him up as much as possible but when he was this tired afterwards, she wasn't so sure.

His color was pasty, his lips almost blue as she tucked the sheet around his shoulders, but his good eye followed her every movement. Her heart broke to know that his mind was as sharp as ever, but it was trapped inside a decaying body.

"What would you like me to read this evening, Papa?" she asked him with forced cheerfulness as she picked up the Bible from the nightstand.

Josiah did not respond, but continued staring at her reproachfully until she could not stand it any longer. He had been like this ever since she got home and her nerves were frazzled from it.

"Okay, Papa, let's get this out in the open. You've been upset with me from the moment I got home and I don't understand. Why are you angry with me?"

Josiah Prescott gestured with his good hand toward the pad and pencil on the nightstand. Abby went around the bed to get it for him, and placed it beneath his hand, looking over his shoulder as he scrawled on the pad. Fornicate…that man…

A deep flush crept up Abby's neck at the words. Her father's perception had not been damaged by the stroke either, it seemed. "I love that man, Papa. I told you that. Now I don't want to talk about it any more. Shall I read to you from Proverbs again tonight?"

Fury made Josiah's eye blaze while he scribbled furiously. "Marry Frederick… You promised…your duty…forget Kane Darcy…promise…

"I have promised, Papa," she said softly. "I am going to marry Frederick, just like you want, in less than two weeks, in fact. I'm not going back on my word."

Josiah sighed with relief. He rested for just a moment, then began writing again. You'll be glad…Frederick good…take care of you...love…will come…..

Abby rubbed a hand over her eyes to brush away the tears so he wouldn't see them. It would do no good to cry.

"I'm sure you're right, Papa," she said soothingly as she took the pad and tore off the sheet of paper. It would go into her bureau with the others she'd hidden there. "Now, you just rest and I'll read to you. Won't that be nice, Papa?"

Josiah lay back on the pillows with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. His breathing was labored after so much exertion, his forehead beaded with sweat. But there was a pleased smile on his lips, albeit a crooked one due to the facial distortion caused by the stroke.

He drifted off to sleep soon after Abby began reading. She had read only a chapter from Proverbs when she realized he was asleep. Closing the Bible, she laid it on the nightstand, then leaned down to kiss her father's forehead. She gently smoothed his hair and tiptoed from the room with the page from the note pad in her apron pocket, ready to go into its place with the others.

She would take them all out and read them again as she did every night to remind herself that she had done the only possible thing when she agreed to marry Frederick for her father's sake. My fault, Papa, my duty…my word, and a Prescott never goes back on their word…..

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Josiah Prescott died that night.

By morning the news of his passing was all over town. By afternoon every business in Cimarron had closed its doors so the people could pay their respects.

Kane stood at the back of the crowd of mourners that filled the cemetery to overflowing, holding his hat and trying not to twitch at the beads of sweat trickling down his back. The August sun was merciless as it beat down on the congregation. He couldn't help but wonder if it was this hot where Josiah was now. Somehow, he couldn't picture Josiah sitting in the presence of the Lord, enjoying the shade and a cool drink after all the years he'd spent on earth brow-beating his family.

He asked himself again why he was even here. He didn't like Josiah Prescott and he hated funerals, so why was he standing here in the blazing sun showing respect to a man who had shown him no respect at all.

His gaze settled on Abby, and he knew why he was here. She stood at her mother's side as the casket was lowered into the ground. There was a startling contrast between mother and daughter, he observed thoughtfully.

Deirdre's eyes were dry, her head uplifted, her eyes filled with pride and dignity as Josiah was laid to rest beside Micah in the cemetery at the edge of town. Her bearing was almost regal. She was pale and looked exhausted, but there was serenity about her that Kane both recognized and admired. She was the epitome of class.

Abby, by contrast, was wracked with grief. Her face was puffy, her eyes so swollen they were mere slits. Kane wondered how she could still have tears to cry, but they flowed down her cheeks in a never-ending stream that made him ache to kiss them away and try to ease her pain.

He let out a muffled snort of disgust with himself at the thought. No chance of that with Frederick sticking to her like glue.

Indeed, Frederick was firmly entrenched at her other side, holding her hand, with a supporting arm around her shoulders. He looked very much the part of the supportive husband he was about to become. The picture left a very bitter taste in Kane's mouth.

He forced his attention from Frederick back to Abby. The sight of her suffering was difficult for him to watch. What on earth did the old fart ever do to deserve that kind of devotion? He treated her and Mrs. Prescott like indentured servants from what I saw. But then, hell, what do I know? I never knew my father so how do I know how it feels to lose him?

His gaze shifted to Amos Connors who stood at Deirdre's side, not touching, but solid and stable, silently offering her his strength and compassion. They made a peculiar couple, he thought with an inward smile. Deirdre; tall, beautiful, cultured, gentle, and Amos; short, stocky, with the tenacity of a bulldog but a heart, Kane was learning, that was much softer than the judge wanted anyone to know.

Deirdre had accepted what life had thrown at her and made the best of it with a quiet dignity that Kane both admired and envied. While Amos had kept the fire burning in his gut for more than thirty years of a love that he'd been cheated out of. One was a survivor, the other a street fighter. He wondered which one was actually stronger, then smiled. She was, of course. Women always were.

Women made their choices and then lived with them, usually without complaining. Men, on the other hand, made choices and never stopped wondering if they'd made the right ones. Abby was living proof of that. Kane glanced at her again and shook his head. She'd come to him that night not an hour after making wedding plans with Frederick, yet everything they had shared in the next three weeks had not deterred her decision to marry the young banker.

Her decision, once made, was carved in granite. His changed every day. He had once been a man who could enjoy a woman's company for as long as it was satisfying to both of them and then move on without a second thought. No more. For a few brief, reckless moments back there in Mexico, he'd even entertained the thought of proposing to her. He supposed he ought to be glad he hadn't. It would only have embarrassed them both.

That should have been the end of it. Why wasn't it? Why wasn't he able to put those torrid summer nights behind him and move on as she had done? Why did every woman he looked at now pale in comparison? Those questions had kept him awake more nights than he cared to count, but no answers had come. Looking at Abby leaning on Frederick's arm as Reverend Trotter picked up a clod of dirt and tossed it into the yawning grave, he knew it was probably better that way.

When the service was over, Kane did not offer his condolences to the family, as the other townspeople did. He put his hat on and turned to leave when he caught Abby's eye for a brief moment. She looks surprised to see me here, he thought as he held her gaze. No more surprised than I am to be here.

The misery he saw in her eyes made his guts twist with a peculiar pain he'd never known before. For a moment he considered pushing through the crowd to her side, but then Frederick leaned down to whisper something to her, and the moment was lost. He turned away in disgust at himself for that brief moment of insanity. If she wanted me to be with her, she'd let me know. She don't. It's just that simple. Let it go, Kane. Forget it. She has.

***

If Cimarron had expected Abby to postpone her wedding plans because of her father's death, they were mistaken. If anything, Josiah's passing spurred her into more frenzied activity. Even Frederick had suggested they wait a reasonable mourning time but Abby was adamant that the wedding take place as planned. It was what her father wanted, she insisted more than once. She wasn't going to disappoint him.

As the wedding day approached, the range war erupted once more into bloody confrontation. Every day for a week there were skirmishes between the two factions who came together at some place on the range, bullets flying. It was hard to tell at this point who was ahead in the body count. Both sides had severe losses and as their numbers were diminished, they were replaced by the eager, available ruffians waiting in Cimarron for the opportunity to get paid for killing each other.

The day before the wedding, one of Belter's grandsons was killed in a bloody ambush at a branding camp. The funeral was planned for the next day. The only person in the country who was profiting from the war was Cimarron's undertaker. He was doing a booming business, often not able to keep up with the trade and was forced to hired extra help to build coffins and dig graves. He would be the only person alive sorry to see the bloody business end because, thanks to Belter and Greer, he had bought additional property, built onto his home, and ordered a new hearse from Philadelphia. As the range war continued, he was well on his way to becoming a very wealthy man.

***

Abby's wedding day was picture perfect. She peeked out the window of her bedroom before leaving for the church to see a brilliant blue sky. There was even a breeze to stir the August heat. She let the curtains fall back into place and turned to face her mother with a strained smile.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Abigail." Deirdre' s voice was choked with emotion as she stared at Abby. She brushed at her eyes and forced a trembling smile. "I just wish your father was here to see you today."

Abby hugged her mother tightly, squeezing back tears. This is my wedding day, not a time for tears. I will be happy. I will, she thought feverently.

Aloud, she stepped back from her mother and put on a determined smile. "Papa is here, mama, he will always be with us." Watching to make sure I keep my promise.

She turned away to check the mirror once more. Her hair was elegantly adorned with summer flowers and lace. The wedding gown was floor length, made of satin trimmed with Battenburg lace, and beaded with pearls down the bodice. She looked very much the happy bride, except her heart was breaking.

"Abigail, I feel that there are a few things I should discuss with you, dear."

"What things, mother?" Abby asked as she adjusted her veil.

"About your wedding night, dear..." Deirdre's voice faded and her face filled with color at Abby's surprised expression. "There are things that you need to...know… what to… expect."

The embarrassment in her mother's face made Abby want to laugh. But she didn't dare. It's so ironic, Mother; that papa knew immediately that Kane and I had been intimate, and you don't appear to even suspect. God bless you, Mother, for your naïveté.

"Mama, you don't have to say anything. I'm not a little girl. I know the basics of what you're trying to tell me, and the rest Frederick and I will learn together."

She felt her knees tremble at the prospect but she kept the smile pasted on her face for her mother's benefit.

Deirdre let out a relieved breath and patted Abby' s arm comfortingly. "You'll be fine, dear. Frederick is a fine young man and well… you'll learn to adjust."

Is that what you did, Mother, adjust? Is that what you did with papa all these years? You adjusted? Is that what will happen to me? After experiencing a passion with Kane so strong it took my breath, will I adjust to being with Frederick? Is this what I have to look forward to?

"Abigail, dear, I must ask you something." Deirdre's voice was still quivering but she managed to level a direct gaze at Abby while she fussed with the beading on the gown. "About Mr. Darcy... your feelings for him... are you sure marrying Frederick...."

"Mother, I'm quite sure," Abby interjected before Deirdre could get the statement out. "Marrying Frederick is the right thing to do."

"But Abigail...."

'Mother, it's settled! I do not wish to discuss it again!"

The high pitched tone of her voice made her mother's brows raise quizzically. "It's just that… well, Abigail, you don't have that radiance that brides have on their wedding day. I'm concerned, dear, that...."

"Mother, I'm just tired. I've… we've... been through hell itself this past month. The kidnapping, papa dying... rushing to get the arrangements made for the wedding. I'm fine, really, and if I'm lacking that bridal glow it's simply because I'm exhausted. That's all, really."

She hoped she was convincing. When Deirdre smiled, in effect accepting her explanation, she let out a sigh of relief. This was tough enough without having to defend herself at every turn. But she knew her mother's concern was out of love, so she gave Deirdre a swift hug and turned around, holding her skirts out.

"I'm ready. Is it time to go yet? It appears the entire town has already gathered at the church. I don't want to keep them waiting, especially in this heat."

Deirdre gave the wedding gown a final inspection. "Yes, of course, dear. Everything is perfect. And we're right on time."

They left the bedroom with Abby in the lead and Deirdre following behind holding the end of the long skirt off the floor. As they reached the bottom of the back stairs, Betsy came to meet them, looking stunning in her bridesmaid dress, her eyes bright with excitement.

'Mother, I've forgotten the garter Betsy gave me to wear. Something borrowed, you know. Could you get it please? Betsy can help with the dress."

"Of course, dear. You girls go along and I'll be there shortly. And, Betsy, keep this skirt off the ground, dear," Deirdre said as she passed the skirt to Betsy.

The girls began the trek to the church at the opposite end of the street while Deirdre ran back up the stairs to get the garter. She hurried to Abby's room and looked around. It was nowhere in open sight so she pulled open the top dresser drawer to search for it.

Giving a sigh of relief that she'd found it so quickly, she snatched it up. Several sheets of yellow note paper fell to the floor in gentle swirls. More irritated than curious, she bent and retrieved the papers. She was about to stuff them back into the dresser drawer when the familiar scrawl caught her attention.

Moments later she had forgotten the garter as she quickly scanned the pages of notes on which Josiah had extracted Abby's promise. As she finished reading them, Deirdre's eyes filled with tears. She hugged the notes to her chest and closed her eyes.

"Oh, Josiah, what have you done?" she whispered in disbelief.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

The sound of the church organ filtered through the open windows and door of the marshal's office where Kane sat with his feet propped on the desk top. He flipped through the dime novel for the tenth time but concentrating on the story was impossible. He had seen Abby and Betsy hurrying toward the church a few minutes earlier, but the sight of her on her way to marry Frederick made him slam the office door shut and turn his back to the street.

Only moments later he saw the Belter contingent ride into town for the funeral. There were at least twenty armed riders with Belter as they headed toward the funeral parlor. Funny, he felt more like going to a funeral than a wedding too. Only it felt like his funeral.

The August heat convinced him to open the door again to allow what little breeze there was to circulate through the stuffy room. Unable to sit still, he paced the office until sweat dripped down his back and he was breathing hard.

"You look like a man with a serious problem."

Kane turned toward the doorway at the sound of Amos' voice. The amusement he saw in the judge's face did little to improve his mood, but he didn't bother denying the statement. One glance at Amos revealed that he was on his way to the wedding for he was dressed in his best black suit complete with white starched shirt, tie, and a carnation in the lapel.

"Won't you be late for the big event?" Kane asked sarcastically.

"No, they'll wait. They have to. I'm giving the bride away. They can't start without me. But that's not why I stopped by."

"Just why did you?"

"Because I've got the answer to your problem, boy. Right here." He held up several sheets of note paper for Kane to see. "Deirdre gave these to me just a few minutes ago. They make very interesting reading."

"Am I supposed to care?"

"Damn right. It explains why Abby is marrying Frederick Gaston."

"She's marrying him because that's what she wants to do."

Amos walked into the office and thrust the papers into Kane's hand. "Just shut up for a minute and stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to read this."

The authoritative quality in Amos' voice took Kane by surprise. He recognized that flinty gleam in Amos' eyes quite well by now. His gaze dropped to the sheets of paper in his hand. It took a few moments to make them out, but as he became familiar with the scrawled handwriting, the words leaped off the pages at him.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded when he'd finished.

"It explains a lot, doesn't it?" Amos asked pleasantly. "Are you getting the picture any clearer now, boy? Abby isn't marrying Frederick because she loves him. She's doing it because Josiah convinced her it was her duty, that she owed him this because his stroke was all her fault."

"But that's crap!"

"You and I know that, Kane, but Abby already felt responsible for Josiah's illness. The conniving old bastard played it for all it was worth. He was willing to ruin her life to get what he wanted."

"Did he really hate me that much?" Kane asked in amazement.

A tight smile touched Amos' mouth as he shook his head. "He hated me that much. He obviously never got over the fact that Deirdre loved me once. Once he figured out that you were my son, he transferred that hatred to you. I'm sorry, boy, that you and Abby got caught in the middle of it."

"Why didn't she tell me about this?"

"Did you give her a reason to?"

Kane didn't reply. He stared at Josiah's notes again, feeling anger swelling up from deep inside him at the pain he'd caused Abby. "That miserable bastard!"

"Josiah's dead, Kane, there isn't anything you can do about that. But there's a girl down the street about the make the biggest mistake of her life. The question is, boy, what are you going to do about it?"

The confused expression on Kane's face made Amos snort in disgust. Then he put a hand on Kane's shoulder. "Kane, I made the biggest mistake of my life when I didn't marry your mother that fall before I went back to college. If I had, all our lives would have been different. We'd have been a family. It would be your rightful name that you carry. Your mother would have had a good life instead of the one....Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I've lived with that regret for most of my life. I don't want to see you repeat my mistake. Abby is marrying Frederick for all the wrong reasons and you're the only one who can do anything about it. Question is, will you?"

Amos gripped Kane's shoulder briefly, then turned and left the office. Kane walked to the door and watched him briskly walking toward the church. A few moments later he heard the organist break into the Wedding March. He stared at Josiah's notes again, then tucked them into his vest pocket as he picked his hat up from the desk.

***

Abby walked down the aisle on Amos' arm, feeling like she was going to her own execution. The happy smile on Frederick's face as he waited at the altar beside his father made her heart sink. Only by constantly reminding herself why she was doing this, was she able to force her legs to propel her to her place in front of the alter.

The church was filled to overflowing with friends and neighbors. Abby had known these people all her life. There was Betsy's mom and dad, along with her teacher Miss Turner, and the Russell twins with whom she had baby sat on numerous occasions. Friendly, loving faces glowing with happiness for her.

The faces became a blur, blending into one another until she couldn't tell one from another. Her heart was beating so fast she felt faint and clutched Amos' arm tighter. She focused on her mother's pale face as she neared the front of the church. The brief glance Amos and Deirdre exchanged was puzzling, but she didn't dwell on it for the music stopped and Amos handed her over to Frederick.

"Dearly beloved," Reverend Trotter began in his most impressive tone. "We have gathered here today to unite this man and woman in holy matrimony. As we begin, I ask you Frederick Anthony Gaston, do you come here today of your own free will and with a clear conscience to marry this woman?"

The smile on Frederick's face made Abby's knees tremble. He was so proud and happy and she was just empty. She felt guilty for pledging her love to him when it wasn't him that she loved at all, but she had promised her father. There was nothing to do but see it through the best she could.

"I do," Frederick said quickly, beaming at her.

"And do you, Abigail Alicia Prescott come here today of your own free will and with a clear conscience to marry this man?"

It was sheer willpower that made Abby's mouth respond appropriately to the question.

"Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?" Reverend Trotter asked.

"Her mother and I," Amos replied.

The expression on his face was grave, Abby noted, wondering if he could sense just how wrong this whole thing was. Amos kissed her on the cheek and took his seat beside Deirdre on the front pew.

Amid the heat and humidity, the congregation fanned themselves with hymnals and beamed at the happy couple. Sweat beaded the reverend's face as he proceeded.

"If there be anyone present who has cause to object to this union, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

There was a moment of perfect silence during which it seemed everyone held their breath, or was just her imagination, Abby wondered absently, feeling faint.

"I object, Reverend!"

Abby turned at the sound of Kane's clear, calm voice. Her eyes widened to see him walking purposefully toward the altar with that determined expression on his face that she had come to recognize.

The congregation was so shocked at Kane's appearance that they sat in perfect silence for a few moments as this turn of events sunk in, then they began whispering to one another until the whispers swept through the entire building. Reverend Trotter nearly dropped his Bible. Frederick's mouth dropped open, then quickly snapped shut as a bright red flush swept into his face. Only Deirdre and Amos were pleased, smiling at each other as Kane walked up to the altar.

"Young man, what is the meaning of this?" Reverend Trotter demanded when he recovered his voice.

"This wedding is a mistake, Reverend," Kane said, but he was looking at Abby. "She doesn't love him."

"Who are you to say that?" Frederick shouted. His face was beet red now. He looked like he might have an attack of some kind as fury roared through him. "This is none of your business anyway!"

"It is my business. Abby loves me. That makes it my business."

The congregation again rippled with whispers as they waited wide-eyed to see what would happen next. Betsy caught Abby's hand and squeezed it hard, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Where on earth do you get off saying something so ridiculous?" Frederick demanded.

"It's the truth." Kane glanced from Frederick's outraged face to Abby. She stared at him in shock, her face pale, and her legs trembling so hard she could hardly stand. "The only reason she's going through with this wedding is because of her father."

Kane held up the sheets of note paper, noting Abby's gasp of horror when she saw them.

"He convinced her it was her duty to marry you, Frederick. He told her his illness was all her fault and that marrying you was the only way she could make it up him. It's all here, in his own handwriting."

Frederick snatched the notes from Kane and quickly read them. His face went from blood red to ash white, then back again as he realized that Kane was telling the truth. Mr. Gaston reached around his son, took the notes and read them, then handed them back to Kane with a sick expression on his face.

"I-I-I don't believe that's why...Abby loves me..." Frederick stammered, looking to Abby for confirmation.

"Does she? Ask her," Kane prompted. He captured Abby's gaze with a confident stare that made her sure she was going to faint dead away.

"Abby?" Frederick said in a trembling voice.

Abby's mouth opened and closed several times but she couldn't speak. She could hardly bear to look at Frederick because the pain and disbelief in his eyes made her feel ill.

"Abby? Is he telling the truth? Are you in love with him?"

Abby hesitated still, unwilling and unable to vocalize her feelings when she had no idea how Kane felt about her.

"Isn't there something else you want to tell her, boy?"

Kane glanced at Amos' amused face where he sat on the front pew holding Deirdre's hand. When Kane swallowed, looking confused, Amos snorted. "Spit it out, boy. This is your last chance. Don't be a fool."

Kane nodded, then looked back at Abby, capturing her gaze again by sheer emotion. "You can't marry him, Abby. You love me. If I hadn't been such a fool, I'd have known that weeks ago. And, well, you see, I-I-I-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! He's trying to tell you he loves you too!" Amos said in exasperation.

Abby's eyes widened as she glanced from Amos to Kane. She saw the truth in his eyes, but he just couldn't get the words out. "Do you, Kane? Do you love me?" she asked softly.

"Didn't I just say that?"

She drew a deep breath. So did the entire congregation. Even Reverend Trotter inhaled deeply, as he looked from Abby to Kane, then to Frederick, who was so stunned he couldn't seem to move.

Indecision flared in Abby's eyes, then she looked at the notes in Kane's hand. "I-I-I."

"Abby, your father's illness was not your fault," Deirdre said as she rose from her seat and approached the altar. She took Abby's trembling hand in both of hers and smiled through the tears that were forming in her eyes. "None of it was your fault, dear. You did nothing wrong."

"But papa said...." Abby began, but couldn't finish the sentence because her throat closed off.

"Listen to me, Abigail. What you're doing is admirable, trying to carry out your father's wishes, but it's not right. Marrying Frederick because you think you owe it to your father is just as wrong as your father asking it of you. He had no right to place such burdens on you. He was wrong, Abigail, just as wrong as marrying the wrong man, regardless of the reasons for doing it."

Deirdre's voice was calm and strong. Even so, the congregation in the stuffy little church had to strain to hear the words. And they weren't about to be left out of this now. They hadn't had this much entertainment since the night of the boxed social.

Dr. Weaver stood up in his pew halfway down the aisle and cleared his throat. Every eye in the building turned to him as he began to speak. "Your mother is absolutely right, Abigail. Your father's illness, and ultimately his death, were nobody's fault but his own. He worked too hard, refused to take care of himself, and wouldn't listen to me when I warned him that he was headed for trouble. And if he laid enough guilt onto you to make you marry someone you don't love, then more's the pity for him. Don't let his mistakes cause you to make an even bigger one."

"Abby, as much as Annabelle and I love you and would love for you to be our daughter-in-law, don't marry Frederick if you don't love him. Marriage is hard enough to make work when both people are deeply in love and truly committed to one another. Without those two factors, not only will the marriage fail, but you'll both be miserable. I want much more than that for Frederick, and for you."

Abby looked at Mr. Gaston in amazement. He forced a tight smile as he gripped Frederick's shoulder. She forced herself to look directly at Frederick finally. His expression was one of disbelief and shock. His face was white, his eyes as big as saucers. She thought he was going to vomit. If it hadn't been for his father's hand on his shoulder, she was sure he would have not been able to stand on his own.

Oh, God, Frederick, what have I done to you? I am so sorry!

Her gaze flashed back to Kane. He stood, holding his hat in one hand, shifting from one foot to the other, looking more confused that she had ever seen him. It made her love him all the more. But it was the silent plea in his eyes that warmed her heart.

The church had become totally quiet again as the people waited for Abby's decision. She stared at Kane again, hoping for something more.

"Abby, I know I don't have much to offer you," he said, then grinned with that disarming charm that had drawn her to him initially. "But thanks to the people of this town, I do have a steady job. It's not much, but...."

What she felt sure was a proposal was interrupted by a flurry of movement at the rear of the church. Looking toward the door, she saw one of the undertaker's assistants hurrying down the aisle.

"Marshal! You better come quick. Greer and his boys just rode into town. They're over at the funeral parlor where Mr. Belter is. Must have twenty or twenty-five men with him. Looks like real bad trouble!" he gasped.

"Damn!" Kane said, then flashed an apologetic glance at Reverend Trotter. "Of all the hair-brained..." Then his shoulders straightened and a tight smile came to his lips. "Maybe it's just as well, get this thing over with once and for all."

He moved closer, took Abby's trembling hand in his and looked into her eyes. "Abby, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. This won't take long and then we'll work it all out. I swear it."

The joy in Abby's heart turned to fear. She clutched his arm, unwilling to let him go. "Kane, please...be careful..." she said in a voice choked with emotion.

She was as surprised as anyone when he swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth. A collective gasp went up from the congregation and she heard Betsy sigh, "This is just so romantic!"

Kane turned and moved toward the church door, then paused to address the congregation. "There's probably forty or fifty men out there ready to blow this town apart. I could use some help."

He didn't wait for a response, but walked briskly up the aisle and out the door. For a moment after he left there was complete silence. Then Amos cleared his throat and straightened his jacket.

"You heard the marshal. For months now Greer and Belter and this little war of theirs has held this town prisoner. Looks like today it can be settled once and for all. This is your town, people. Take it back!"

He paused briefly to pat Abby's shoulder and throw Deirdre a confident glance, then followed after Kane. Dr. Weaver stepped out of his pew as Amos passed. "I've got a scatter gun over at the office. I can't shoot worth a damn, Amos, but for what it's worth, I'm with you."

"Good," Amos said as they walked abreast toward the door. "That's my boy walking into this fight. I don't intend for him to get killed if I can help it. I appreciate the help, Harold."

After Amos and Dr. Weaver left the church, the people looked at each other, deliberating their options. Several very tense moments passed until Mr. Gaston made the first move. Frederick grabbed his arm as he moved away from the altar.

"You're not going to help him, are you? After everything he's done to me...to this town?"

Mr. Gaston gently removed Frederick's restraining hand on his arm. "Son, I know how difficult this is, but the truth is, Marshal Darcy has placed his life in danger on more than one occasion for this town. He needs our help now. I, for one, am going to do what I can."

He laid a loving hand on Frederick's shoulder for a moment, then walked up the aisle toward the door. Slowly, one by one, the other men in attendance got up and followed him.

As the men left the church, Abby turned to Frederick. "Frederick, I'm so sorry," she said in a choked voice.

He ripped the boutonniere off his lapel and threw it to the floor. "I can't believe how you've deceived me, Abby. You should have told me the truth from the beginning. Instead, you've embarrassed me in front of the whole town. I hope you're happy!"

He flashed her a last piercing glance before stomping out the side door of the church, with his thoroughly confused mother following at his heels.

"But what about all the food?" Annabelle Gaston wailed as they went out the door.

"She's right, Abby," Betsy said with a bright smile. "Let's eat!"

***

Kane reached the funeral parlor, feeling sick at his stomach. At least forty men sat on their horses, hands on their guns, in a semi-circle in front of the building, waiting for a spark to ignite this gathering into open war. Belter stood on the front porch of the building, Greer sat on his horse directly facing him.

Kane walked into the fracas from the sidelines, taking a position behind Belter and facing the others. Sweat trickled down his back as he glanced from man to man. Each one was heavily armed, just waiting for the shooting to start.

Great, this must be how General Custer felt at Little Big Horn. Outnumbered forty to one, and no place to run. How did I ever get myself into this?

He carefully placed his back to the wall of the funeral parlor and put his hand on his gun butt. "You boys picked a bad day to start something. You're interrupting a beautiful moment over at the church."

Belter smiled at the humorous statement, but his eyes were hard as nails. "I'm doing nothing wrong, Marshal. Just come to town to bury my grandson after these rattlers ambushed him yesterday. Next thing you know, here they are, looking for trouble. Guess they intend to wipe out the rest of the Belters today"

"Not today, not in my town." Kane's voice was calm and steady, but his palms were sweating and the knot in his stomach was growing by the second.

"You sound mighty confident, Marshal, for one man," Greer said with a smirk from his horse. He nodded over his shoulder at his men lined up beside him. "Take a look around. The odds are all against you."

Kane's gaze swept the circle of hard faces, Greer's men on one side, Belter's on the other, tense, ready to explode at the slightest motion. "All I see are a bunch of belly crawling cowards who do their best work in the dark. Now take off your gunbelts and drop them over here. You're all under arrest."

Belter and Greer laughed aloud, joined by guffaws from the circle of hired guns. "Marshal, you've been out in the sun too long," Greer chuckled. "You think you can take us all in by yourself?"

"Take another look, Greer," came Amos' cold voice as he walked up beside Kane. "Those odds are changing. Do what the marshal says and drop your guns."

The ranchers' heads both snapped around to see Amos standing with the double-barreled shot gun draped casually over his arm, the murderous business end of it pointed at Greer. Another swift glance revealed Dr. Weaver beside Amos with his own shotgun. Greer swallowed, but was far from being intimidated by three men.

"So now there's three of you. I give the word and my boys will cut you all down."

"Not without dying yourself first," Kane said with a slight smile. That knot in his gut was ever bigger now, for fear that Amos and Dr. Weaver had just put themselves in emanate danger.

"Besides, you kill a federal judge, and you'll all be swinging from a tall tree quick as the Rangers get here," Amos said confidently. "Make it easy on yourselves, boys, and drop the guns."

The riders shifted in their saddles, looking a bit hesitant at that thought, then looked to their bosses for direction. Greer looked down the barrel of Amos' shotgun and swallowed. But Belter wasn't intimated.

"That son-of-a-bitch gave the order to kill my grandson! You think I'm going to let that go?"

"I expect to bring to justice whoever is responsible for that, Belter. As well as all the other killings that have occurred. You'll all get a fair trial."

"You see, boys, as long as you kept this little feud among yourselves, I didn't interfere but now you've gone and brought your trouble into my town. I can't let that go. This is where it ends," Kane said.

He met Greer's glare confidently, his manner making the rancher hesitant.

"I think not, Marshal," Belter said angrily. "The only thing that Greer and I have agreed on in the past ten years is that nobody's taking my gun. He came here looking for trouble and I aim to make sure he finds it."

"I don't think so," Amos said with a grin. "The people of this town have something to say about that. These folks are sick and tired of all the killing, and the hired guns hanging around. For months now the two of you have made this town your personal battlefield, but that's over. If you don't believe me, look around."

At Amos' suggestion, all heads turned. Standing in the street behind the mounted riders was every man of gun carrying age in Cimarron. Most of them carried weapons of one sort or another. Kane grinned to see Mr. Calvert from the livery carrying a pitchfork, which he held like a knight brandishing his lance.

"Like I said, boys, you're under arrest. Drop your guns and move along over to the jail," Kane said. He wondered if the others could hear his relief in his voice.

The show of force from the townspeople convinced the ranchers to do what he said. Several long moments went by while they thought it over, but the determination on the townspeople's faces did what months of arguing and killing hadn't been able to do. Greer was the first to unbuckle his gunbelt. The others followed suit and in moments they had disarmed themselves and were being herded toward the jail by a large contingent of the Cimarron men.

As Kane and Amos walked along behind Belter and Greer, Kane leaned over to ask, "Can any of those men hit anything if they shot at it?"

"Probably not. They'd more than likely shoot each other, but what the hell, they fooled these guys, didn't they?"

Kane chuckled, looking again at the armed posse that had gathered in the street. Now that the danger had passed, the women and children were coming out of the church, looking very proud of their men.

The men stepped back to open a path for Kane as he walked toward the jail porch. No one spoke but each man nodded as Kane passed him. Kane returned each gesture with a brief nod, unable to speak if he'd wanted to. The lump forming in his throat made speech impossible. He'd never been the recipient of such respect in his life. He was overwhelmed and sincerely grateful for their support, but telling them that was unnecessary. Words would only have embarrassed them. He knew how they felt, as they knew his feelings, because he was certain it was written all over him.

"Welcome home, boy."

Amos' voice was raspy with emotion as they stood in the open doorway of the marshal's office. Inside, the townsmen were herding the prisoners into cells and securing the doors behind them. It was a very tight fit, but by the time an arraignment hearing was held later in the day, only the ones who had reason to stand trial would be left to enjoy the jail's facilities. Amos figured about two thirds of them would be released. The others would stand trial. The war was over. Sadly, there were no winners. Everyone had lost, except the town. Cimarron was free.

Kane looked up as he heard Abby call his name. Looking down the street, he saw her running toward him, holding up the long skirt of her wedding gown and looking so beautiful it almost took his breath.

He stepped off the porch and swung her up into his arms, holding her off the ground while he kissed her passionately. Her arms slid around his neck and she held him tightly. "Oh, Kane, I love you so much," she whispered as her happy tears wet his face.

"As I was trying to say when we were so rudely interrupted before..." he replied with a grin as he held her close. "I love you, Miss Prescott. Will you marry me?"

She nodded enthusiastically and kissed him again. "Yes, oh yes!"

Kane set her back on the ground and took both her hands. The happiness in his eyes was replaced with a more serious expression. "Abby, I don't have anything. I don't even have a home to offer you, but somehow we'll make it work."

"We have each other, Kane. Everything else is just details."

He flashed her one of those mischievous smiles that made her heart do flips in her chest. "What about right now?"

Abby looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He nodded toward the church where the townspeople were once more gathering.

"These people came to see a wedding, didn't they? I'd sure hate to disappoint them, wouldn't you?"

"You mean now...right now?" Abby gasped.

"Why not? Give me fifteen minutes to change clothes and I'll be ready."

Abby shook her head. "That's not necessary. What you're wearing is just fine. Besides, I like you better in boots and the badge anyway."

"'But you might ought to lose the gun, at least long enough for the ceremony," Amos suggested from the porch. "You danged near gave Reverend Trotter a heart attack when you stormed into the church wearing it a while ago."

Kane glanced down at the gun belt and grinned as he unbuckled it and handed it to Dr. Weaver. Then he leaned over to whisper in Abby's ear. She nodded enthusiastically and looked up at him with a happy smile. Kane looked at Amos on the porch where he was lighting up a cigar.

"Just one thing, Your Honor. Abby and I want you to perform the ceremony."

Amos nearly choked on the cigar smoke. He coughed and cleared his throat, looking from Kane to Abby and then back. "You sure that's what you want, boy?"

Kane nodded. "How many men get the chance to have their father preside at their wedding? It would be an honor, sir."

Amos cleared his throat nosily as he stepped off the porch and fell into step beside Abby as she walked between them down the street toward the church. "All right, I'll perform the ceremony, but if you start naming babies after me, we'll have to have a long talk, boy."

Abby laughed happily as she put an arm around each man's waist as they walked down the street together. "'Wouldn't you like at least one grandson named after you, Judge?" she teased.

"Well, maybe just one," Amos relented with a smile. He looked across her head at Kane and felt his heart swell with pride. "But only if he looks like his momma. I guess this means I'll have to grant you that pardon now, boy. Looks like it's safe bet you don't plan on leaving town."

"That's a bet you'd win, Your Honor," Kane replied as he grinned down at Abby's radiant face.

Nearing the waiting congregation, Amos straightened his coat and tie. "Well, what are you people waiting for? We're going to have a wedding," he called out jovially as he took Deirdre's hand, pulled her from the crowd, and led her into the church.

Abby took Kane's hand before they followed the crowd into the church. "When I woke up this morning, I dreaded this day more than anything you can imagine."

"So did I."

"And look at us now. I'm about the marry the strongest, bravest, most handsome man in the world."

"Hey, I thought you were going to marry me," Kane teased her before leaning down to kiss her.

"Just try to keep me from it, Kane Darcy. To have and to hold from this day forward till death do we part. It's going to be a long happy life. I can't wait to start it as your wife."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Kane asked with a devilish grin as the organist began the Wedding March. "They're playing our song."

THE END