The Half-Breed's Woman Page 4

  Callie tried to form the words she wanted to say. That she wouldn’t sit across the table from him if he were the last person on earth. That she didn’t even want to speak to him right now, much less eat with him. That he needed to just go away and leave her alone.

  But a simple, polite “No,” was all that came out.

  Jax stared at her a moment, as if he expected her to say all those things and more. He tried again.

  “C’mon. It’s noon. Better eat up while you can. Food’s not always so great at the stage stations.”

  “Go away, please, Marshal,” she answered frostily. She tried to shut the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

  “Jax,” he corrected.

  “Marshal.”

  “Sarah, it’s not a request.” All the laughter had fled. His face was hard now, and deadly serious.

  “Wh-What’s going on?” she stammered, suddenly too afraid to be angry any longer. It was easy to see something was wrong. He was here for a purpose.

  “Get your things and come down with me.”

  She looked up at him quickly, trying to read his expression. Was he arresting her? His eyes were fathomless pools of ink, his jaw set.

  Yes. What else could it be? Her heart pounded furiously, her knees suddenly weak. Woodenly, Callie reached for her valise and put the handle over her arm. Jax took her key, locking the door behind her.

  Neither of them spoke as they descended the stairs and entered the bustling activity of the dining room. The restaurant employees were especially busy today, taking care of the people who had come to eat after church as well as their own customers who rented rooms there.

  A waitress showed them to one of the few vacant tables, and Jax seated Callie, then pulled out his own chair and put his back to the wall. He ordered for both of them as Callie remained silent, her lips taut.

  Why didn’t he get it over with, she wondered. She hated the uncertainty. She glanced up at Jax, feeling his gaze boring into her. He gave her a faint smile that was, she thought, slightly mocking.

  “Now, if you’re going to ask me what it is I want again, Sarah, you’d better be ready for the answer.” His voice was a slow, hot drawl—quietly scorching her emotions, as well as her conscience.

  He would remind her of last night, she thought resentfully. An angry retort rose to her lips, but she bit it back as the waitress brought their drinks and served them with a cheery smile. As the girl left to see about their meal, Jax leaned forward, serious.

  “Sarah, don’t turn around. There’s a man sitting behind you, facing me. Tall, big, and looks to be a rounder.”

  “Is…that what was so important?” Callie asked softly. Relief washed over her, leaving her so weak she could barely make herself ask the question. She felt sure Jax was still unaware of who she was. He would already have arrested her, if he knew. He wouldn’t waste time feeding her and talking about some man sitting behind her. And she knew there was no one in this town that knew her. She certainly hadn’t had time or inclination to socialize.

  She dropped her napkin on the floor and bent to retrieve it, throwing a hasty glance at the man Jax was speaking of. She didn’t know him, nor did she want to know him. The giant gave her a disgusting leer from where he sat as their eyes collided briefly.

  Blocker took a quick look at something he held in his hand. A tintype. He gave a smug smile, dropping the picture into his jacket pocket.

  Callie gave a delicate shiver. “No. I—I don’t know him. His eyes are…odd.”

  As the waitress approached with their food, Jax leaned across the table, a neutral expression on his handsome features.

  “Sarah, if things start getting rough, you go up to your room and lock yourself in. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. You understand?”

  Callie’s eyes widened. “Yes. Of course. But—you don’t think it will, do you, Jax? Get rough, I mean.”

  “I just don’t know,” he replied honestly. “Margie told me he was asking about you earlier.”

  She forced herself to relax. “That’s why your lunch invitation wasn’t a request, I assume.”

  Jax grinned at Callie’s crisp tone and cut into his fried chicken. “You know, if we weren’t in a restaurant with all these civilized people, we could just pick this chicken up and eat it like it was meant to be eaten.” He winked at her. Just that easily, the subject was changed.

  Callie let it go and played along. “It must be hard on you, Marshal.”

  “Jax,” he corrected, taking another bite of the succulent meat. “What must he hard?”

  “Being civilized.”

  Jax chuckled.

  “I wasn’t joking,” Callie murmured sweetly.

  “I know. You’re not too far off the mark.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Jax reached for his tea, the warmth of laughter leaving his obsidian eyes as he became serious. He didn’t answer for a long moment, then, “Are we back to the question game again?” His voice was low and taunting.

  Callie felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she forced herself to face him, to not look away. She had deserved that, she supposed. “Yes. I—I guess maybe we are.”

  “I’m well aware of the trappings of civilization, Sarah. I had it beaten into me at a very young age.” His voice had a hard edge to it. After a moment, he shook his head and laughed. “It was pretty tough on a hot-tempered, half-wild Cherokee boy.” He looked past Callie, into that other time, then came to himself and met her eyes. “But I think I came out of it all right. At least, half civilized, most of the time.”

  And dangerous all of the time, Callie thought, realizing that she had called up unpleasant memories for him. She suddenly reached across the table and touched his hand lightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think of unhappy times.”

  He seemed to visibly force himself to relax. “It’s over now.” His tone was still curt. “I didn’t mean to be short with you.”

  “I know. Maybe this question game isn’t such a good idea after all, Jax.”

  But he wasn’t watching Callie. The big man behind her had risen and was coming toward their table, and Jax had shifted, preparing himself.

  “Marshal,” he said, stopping beside Callie. He gave her a long, open stare. “Miss…Smith…” he let the innuendo drip from her alias, a feral smile crossing his coarse features.

  Callie sat in stunned silence, looking up into his square face. Who was he? And how did he know who she was? There was no doubt that he did know, just by the way he’d spoken to her, called her name that wasn’t really her name at all, and the way he looked at her, like a cat would stare at a mouse caught in a trap.

  Jax stood up deliberately, his hand descending to the walnut stock of his Colt, lingering there. “I don’t believe I know you.” His voice was cold.

  “Sure you do, Jaxson,” the man said in a taunting, silky tone. “You know me. Wolf Blocker.” He turned his gaze slowly to Callie, and his grin widened at her nervousness. “I know plenty about you, McCall. And an awful lot about Miss…Smith, here.”

  His voice was evil, Callie thought, as was everything else about him. The way he had looked at her…Her trembling fingers slid into her lap and she glanced quickly back up at the lawman beside her.

  Callie saw something flicker in Jax’s eyes as he stared at the huge man, unafraid.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, Mr. Blocker. But, you keep your distance. From me, and from the lady.” Jaxson’s voice smoldered with warning.

  “You’re awful brave now, Marshal,” Blocker murmured, low. “But I remember a young Injun that would’ve been cryin’ for his mama if I’d had another hour to work on him.” He cocked his head. “’Course it wouldn’ta done ya no good to cry, cause yore mama was dead. Your friend, he didn’t die as well as he thought he would that day. Had him screamin’. Remember? He—”

  Jax’s powerful fist caught the big man squarely in the nose, but Blocker didn’t go down. He grabbed for his bloodied face, enra
ged.

  “Bastard! I’ll kill you for that!” Blocker’s voice cut through the dining room as the patrons began to run for the doors. The waitresses cast knowing looks at one another and retreated to the kitchen.

  Jax gave a mirthless laugh. “Better luck this time, Blocker. It’s been several years since you tried it last. Let’s see if you’ve learned anything.”

  Blocker lunged for Jax with a cry, and Jax sidestepped, giving the lumbering giant a mighty shove to send him sprawling face down on the wood floor amidst the crash of splintering tables and chairs.

  As Blocker began to get to his feet, Jax murmured, “Get out of here, Sarah.”

  “But, Jax—”

  He cast her a quick glance. “Now. Get upstairs.”

  ****

  Blocker slowly turned to face Jax and came at him again with a shout. His ham-like fist crashed into Jax’s ribcage, and Jax felt at least one of his ribs crack. He gasped at the sudden knifing pain, even as his own right fist came up and solidly connected with Blocker’s chin. The big man’s head rocked back with the force of the blow.

  Blocker staggered, grabbing a chair, and lifted it above his head. Before he could hurl it at Jax, a single gunshot rang out, and he stopped, eyes wide. The chair dropped to the floor, Blocker clutching his chest in surprise.

  “She shot me!” he mumbled thickly, disbelieving.

  Jax’s eyes arrowed to where Callie stood a few feet away. The .22 derringer still smoked in her hand. His cracked ribs protested as he stood bent, breathing shallowly.

  Her hand shook slightly as she lowered the gun and met Jax’s onyx gaze briefly. Jax tamped down the pain, but knew his surprise was showing. Callie was looking at him as if she expected him condemnation for what she’d just done. He barely had time to give her a nod of thanks before bedlam took over once more. She’d never see censure in his expression for putting a bullet in Blocker’s hide—but something more occurred to him. She had done what she could to protect him—

  “Congratulations, young lady!” Sheriff Thomas boomed from the doorway. He made his way across the mess to where Blocker stood. “Wish it had been a bigger caliber,” he added.

  Doc Williams followed after a moment. He gave Blocker’s wound a cursory glance. “It’s barely under the skin. Come on over to my office and I’ll dig it out—” he glanced up at Blocker’s bloodied face, “—if you’ve got money to pay,” he added sourly. He crossed the room to where Jax stood and began unbuttoning Jax’s shirt.

  “I thought I told you to leave Fort Smith yesterday, Blocker,” the sheriff said. “Why’re you still here?”

  Blocker shot Jax a malevolent glare. “Unfinished business, Sheriff.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, it can remain unfinished. I’m tellin’ you, you get patched up, then you ride out of here tonight and don’t come back. You’re trouble, and I don’t want or need that in my town. Now, get out.”

  “Hey, what about my place?” the innkeeper shouted across the room. He stood just inside the kitchen door, holding it open, careful to keep a safe distance.

  The sheriff turned expectantly to Blocker, but Jax spoke up as the doctor put the final wrap of bandaging around his ribs.

  “I threw the first punch, Rick. I’ll take care of it.”

  Sheriff Thomas looked questioningly at Jax, then shrugged. “You hear that, Tony?” he called to the innkeeper. “Jax said he’ll pay for the damages.”

  Tony cautiously ventured out into the dining room. “Thank you, Marshal. You can settle up when you check out.”

  “With me, too, McCall,” Blocker sneered.

  Rick Thomas snorted. “Looks like you got the worst end of this deal, Blocker. Better just let it go and move on.”

  “Come on, Mr. Blocker,” Doc Williams said. “I don’t like working on Sundays. You’re keeping me from my day of rest.”

  “I ain’t done with you yet, McCall,” the big man blustered. “Shoulda kilt you before.”

  “You killed many women and children that day, Blocker,” Jax said evenly. “Be ready. Next time, it ends between us.”

  Rick Thomas cast Jax a despairing glance as Blocker and Doc Williams went out the door. Jax buttoned up his shirt over the bandage, smiling faintly at the sheriff’s expression. “Don’t worry so much, Rick. I’ll do my best to keep it out of Fort Smith.”

  Chapter 5

  As Callie and Jax made their way slowly up the long staircase, she noticed how he paced his breathing. She sedately matched his steps, her arm looped through his to support him, should he need it.

  His step never faltered, but as they reached the landing, a brief flash of pain crossed his face.

  She looked up at him quickly. “Are you all right?”

  Jax gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. I’ve been hurt a lot worse than this, Sarah.” They stood in front of her door, but she made no move to unlock it. “You scared, sweetheart?” His voice was low and husky, and so filled with concern that Callie couldn’t speak for a moment.

  When had anyone shown such compassion for her feelings? Not since her mother…It had been years.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned away to keep him from seeing. He reached for her, taking her face between his palms, tilting it upward.

  ****

  Her expression confirmed what he had already known. She was afraid, and confused, but there was a kind of wistful longing, as well. It reminded him a little of her expression in the locket portrait.

  “Yes,” she whispered, blinking back the tears. “I’m scared.”

  Jax took the key from her numb fingers. The warmth of his hand, just the touch of his skin on hers, made her shiver with pleasure. He opened her door and as they entered, pushed it closed behind them, then locked it. Callie sat her valise on the floor beside the chest.

  “Here,” she indicated the bed. “Lie down. Your side must be hurting. I heard the rib crack when he hit you. How many do you think he broke?”

  Jax sat down, closing his eyes for a moment. Christ, it was throbbing now. He could scarcely take a deep breath.

  “At least two,” he admitted, knowing it was more like three from the way it hurt. He smiled grimly to himself. Riding a horse beside the stagecoach all day for the next few days should prove a challenge.

  He lay down on the bed, stretching his long frame out as he tried to relax. It was excruciating. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, but he made no sound. He heard Callie splashing some water into the basin. In a moment, she knelt beside the bed and smoothed his dark hair back, laying a cool, damp cloth across his brow.

  “Where’d you get that gun?” he murmured.

  “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

  He could hear the laughter in her voice. He smiled and opened an eye to look at her, then closed it again.

  “I’ve had it ever since I left Wash-uh, New York. For protection.” She moved the cloth across his face and neck. “Of course, it wasn’t much. Protection, I mean. I guess I’d’ve had to empty it into him to truly stop him.”

  Jax opened his eyes. “Empty it? That kind of gun only fires two shots. It’s not a six-shooter, Sarah.”

  “Oh.”

  He knew she had thought it was by her tone. Had she ever even looked at it before today? “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Never.”

  “Yet, you shot to kill.”

  “He was going to hurt you!”

  Jax smiled. “I’m not second-guessing you. Just thinking that it took a lot of courage to do what you did.”

  She laid the rag on the night table, and Jax gripped her wrist lightly. She suddenly looked as if she might faint.

  “Come lie down with me.”

  “Jax! That wouldn’t be—”

  “Proper? I won’t touch you.”

  “Well, yes, I know, but—”

  “You need to rest after…what happened down there. It takes it out of you.” Calculatingly, he added, “Especially when you shoot to kill someone. I know. I�
��ve killed my share in the past.”

  ****

  Callie looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Dishonesty had never been in her nature, and she hated being forced to lie to this man. She rose slowly and came around to the other side of the bed. Maybe she was a fool to trust him, but he truly seemed concerned for her welfare. And she did feel weak, somehow, like the weight on her shoulders was even more oppressive than before. It was bad enough that she’d killed Dunstan Treadwell and fled, but to have tried to kill another man as well…

  She sank to the bed, then lay beside Jax carefully so she wouldn’t hurt him.

  Jax reached over and took her cold fingers into his firm, warm grip. She could tell he wasn’t used to comforting a distraught woman. And she knew she had to be careful not to say too much, or say the wrong thing.

  Surprisingly, Jax asked no questions, said nothing more, in fact, and it was his solid, kind acceptance that undid her. She began to cry, instinctively turning toward him. Her head came against his shoulder, his arm encircling her. He wiped her tears away with his other hand as best he could without moving any more than he had to.

  ****

  Finally, Jax just let her cry against him, felt her tears run trails across his skin and vanish into the stark clean whiteness of the bandage. He absently stroked her shimmering hair, and after a long time she slept. He managed to change position slightly to ease his ribs while, at the same time, pulling her closer into the shelter and strength of his body.

  As she slept against him, his mind raced. There was no doubt that this woman was Callie Buchanan. But now that he had her, what was he going to do with her? Sending her back to her stepfather was out of the question. She was no more mentally unstable than anyone else in the world. The more Jax thought of it, the more he felt Treadwell somehow meant to use Callie toward his own gain.

  Especially now that Wolf Blocker had shown up. Dave Lewis had said Blocker was asking for him. But Margie had said Blocker was asking about Sarah Smith. That was no coincidence. There was only one way Blocker could have known that Jax and Sarah Smith were connected.

  Blocker, the four-flusher, had to be working for Treadwell. Jax felt sure Treadwell had hired him to follow Jax to get to Callie. He probably had orders to then kill Jax, and bring Callie home to Treadwell.