mad at me when he got me out of jail. He whipped me good. I really can’t…sit down.”
Clay shook his head slowly. “I don’t think you’re cut out to be an outlaw, Deuce.”
He lifted his thin shoulders. “No, sir. Me either.”
“Did your folks give you that name, boy? Or was it just hung on you?” Clay took another sip of his beer.
“My name’s Dennis, but everybody calls me Deuce ‘cause I’m the second one. I got a twin brother.” He looked at the floor again. “We’re twins, but me and Jared don’t look much alike. He’s real big and strong, like my pa. That’s my pa over there.”
Clay peered around Deuce at the man standing by the swinging doors. Tall, with big, powerful arms and a full chest, a strong face set directly down on broad, muscular shoulders.
“He’s the blacksmith.”
“Holy Jesus…” Clay gulped down three swallows of his beer.
“Pa never let me work at the livery with him and Jared, ‘cause I’m so small. But he says now I have to work there everyday so he can see to it I don’t get into any trouble.”
Clay let out a heavy sigh and sat back in his chair. “If that were my pa, Deuce, I’d see to it I never got into a minute’s trouble again.”
Deuce’s father left his station by the door and crossed the saloon. He offered his hand to Clay. “I’m Ben Tucker.”
Clay got to his feet and accepted his iron handshake, the grasp of a man who worked hard for a living. “Clay Chandler. Glad to know you.”
“I wanted to tell you personal, Marshal, that I’m much obliged to you for putting in a good word for my boy with the sheriff.”
“I only told him what really happened.”
Ben nodded. “You can be sure Deuce here won’t be .hanging around with the likes of that Luther McGraw again. I put a stop to that today.”
Deuce grimaced and shifted uncomfortably.
Clay nodded. “I think he got in with the wrong bunch.”
“Well, it won’t happen again.” He gave Deuce a stem look. “That right, boy?”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m beholding to you, Marshal. You need anything from my livery stable, you just say the word. Is that your bay stallion outside the sheriffs office?”
Clay nodded.
“I’ll bed him down at the livery. No charge. The boy here will take your gear over to the hotel.”
They turned and headed out of the saloon. When they reached the door, Deuce ventured a glance at his father. Ben gave him a cold stare and walked out ahead of him. Deuce’s shoulders sagged, and he followed along behind.
Clay fell back in his chair and took a long drink of beer. Thoughts of his own father, his own family, floated through his mind, and for a moment he allowed himself to indulge in the memories. Happy times, filled with the love and closeness of a family. Times spent with… Rebecca.
Anger coiled in Clay’s belly. He pushed his beer aside and surged to his feet, knocking the chair to the floor. The saloon quieted, and gazes turned his way. Clay pulled his hat low on his forehead and kicked the chair aside. He didn’t like to remember. It always made him angry. But the anger was easier to endure than the guilt that ate at him. Guilt for his actions—and his actions alone—that forever guaranteed that those happy memories were a thing of the past.
The saloon patrons gave him a wide berth—and plenty of stares—as he made his way to the street again.
Dusk had fallen, and Clay felt tired. He’d seen the hotel when he rode into town this afternoon, so he headed down the street in that direction. Shops were closing for the night, merchants and customers hurrying home to their families. They paused long enough to give him and the star pinned to his vest a curious look. He ducked into the alley, unwilling to be the object of any more idle gossip today. At times, the badge was a heavy load to carry.
Kelsey swept the last of Etta Mae’s meal preparations from the floor and dumped them into the bucket of dirty water waiting beside the back door. She straightened and groaned softly in the silent kitchen. The guests were all upstairs, and Etta Mae had gone home, leaving Kelsey to close up for the night. She didn’t mind cleaning the kitchen alone. Tonight, fueled by thoughts of her encounter with Jack Morgan, the work had gone quickly.
Kelsey wiped her hands on the linen towel and draped it over her shoulder as she looked around the room. Spotless. She carried the bucket onto the back porch. In the fading light, she saw the small stable and paddock across the dirt alley and reminded herself to take the mare to the blacksmith first thing in the morning, before its owner was ready to check out. Early, before prying eyes noticed.
A cool breeze stirred and Kelsey shuddered, anxious to finish her chores and get into bed. She drew back the bucket and tossed the dirty water into the alley.
At that instant, a man turned the corner of the hotel, and the water hit him square in the belly.
“Jesus Christ!”
Clay roared like a wounded tiger as the water splashed up his shirt and down his trousers and soaked his boots.
Kelsey gasped and looked down in horror at the incriminating evidence in her hand. She tossed the bucket aside.
His gaze impaled her, blazing like hot embers in the dim light. “What the hell are you doing?”
Her eyes rounded. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
A stream of filthy curses tumbled from his lips as he looked down at himself and flung water from his hands.
“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—”
His frown grew more fierce.
“Let me help you.” Kelsey pulled the linen towel from her shoulder and hurried to him. Quickly she pressed the towel against his chest, mopping up the wetness.
“I didn’t see you standing there,” Kelsey explained hurriedly. She dipped the towel lower and pressed it against his belly. “I’m terribly sorry—really I am.”
Fire, more intense than his anger, suddenly ignited low in Clay’s belly. Through the layers of clothing that separated his flesh from hers, the feel of her fingers moving over him, dipping lower and lower, sent a surge of desire through him, swift and strong. Its urgency overwhelmed him.
He felt the towel against his belt buckle, then against the front of his trousers. Clay gulped and jumped back.
“Stand still.” She stepped closer. “I’m not finished.”
If she kept this up, she’d have a finish she hadn’t counted on. Clay pushed her hands away. ‘’Keep to yourself.”
Annoyed, Kelsey planted a fist on her hips. “Stop making
