Chapter 6 #2
She was caught, once more, between amusement and irritation. How was it that he seemed to elicit such a reaction in her, reliably, with every sentence that emerged from his mouth? She settled for laughing, putting a hand over her mouth to try to stifle the noise.
He watched her, his eyes dark.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to regain her gravity—and what was left of her dignity. “I must tell you something, Mr. Hammond.”
“Rhett.”
She would not give him the satisfaction of using his Christian name, even if he was so freely using hers, as though they were old friends.
“I ought to have mentioned it before.”
“What, when we were in the jailhouse?”
“Yes—I suppose I wouldn’t have had any other opportunity—it only feels as though I’ve known you forever, Mr. Hammond. But in fact, we’ve hardly spent more than a few hours in each other’s company.”
“It’s true,” he agreed, stepping forward. “Strange as it may seem.” She fell back a step, lacing her hands together in front of her. “What’s this news you must tell me, Miss Lyla?”
She took a deep breath.
“I—I like you,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to the floor. “I can’t help but like you. And I can’t help but tell you, either—I’ve never been the sort to hide her feelings. Not very well, at least. But I’m engaged, Mr. Hammond—engaged to be married.”
He didn’t seem the least bit put off by this. If anything, his gaze was even more direct and focused.
“I don’t reckon there’s any other sort of engaged to be,” he said.
“Well, I—I suppose not, but…”
“I wouldn’t fret your pretty little head over it, anyhow. Like as not, I’m about to be hanged for cattle rustling, so you see, both of us are headed for a messy end.” He grinned cheerfully. “Might as well make the most of it while we can.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“I didn’t figure you’d want me to say what I was really thinkin’.”
She lifted her head, throwing her shoulders back.
“I,” she declared, “know a challenge when I hear one. What were you really thinking, Mr. Hammond?”
He stepped forward again—but this time, she stood her ground.
“I was just thinkin’ how nice it would be to kiss you.”
Her eyes widened, and she knew that her heart must be beating twice as fast as usual—could he hear it? Hear it? He was so close that he might well be able to feel it!
“Here?” she managed, grasping wildly for a reason, any reason, why he shouldn’t. “With—with everyone looking on?”
“I reckon I could ask ‘em to turn their backs for a minute.”
“Oh, you’re impossible!” She shoved his shoulder, and he fell back a step, grinning. “You shouldn’t tease a girl like that. I was about ready to scream for help.”
“I bet you were,” he said. “I could hear that scream just risin’ to the occasion. You were all ready for it, weren’t you?”
She gaped at him, feeling color and heat rush to her face.
“…ready…for…”
“Screamin’, I mean,” he clarified, laughing. “Don’t you worry, Miss Lyla. I’d never kiss a girl while she was engaged to somebody else, no matter who that stuck-up varmint is or how much better off she’d be with me… hey, would you look at that? It appears I found a gentlemanly instinct.”
Amid Lyla’s dazed confusion, she had to admit to herself that she wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t.
In something of a haze, she turned back toward the counter. She knew in her heart that she ought to leave him behind, pretend as though she hadn’t seen him at all—and yet she could not simply walk away. Oh, why must her feelings be so confusing?
Yes, she thought dimly, California was always so unfair, after all. At least the portion of it that concerned the goings-on in West Hope.
She managed a small smile of acknowledgment as she went. As she had hoped—as she had feared—Rhett followed her.
“Your order is all made up,” said the young man behind the counter, darting Rhett a suspicious glance. “Didn’t realize you were still here, Mr. Hammond.”
“Oh, it’s awful hard to get rid of me,” Rhett said easily. “But I am on my way out—places to go, people to conspire with. Suppose I help Miss Lyla carry her packages out to the wagon.”
She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, to stay put and not offer help that wasn’t wanted—and yet, she could not bring herself to speak.
With unusual meekness, she found herself joining Rhett in gathering up the packages and carrying them out to the door.
He glanced at her sideways and gave her a sly grin.
“Don’t you worry, Miss Lyla,” he said. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“My—my secret?”
“Why, the fact that you like me. That you think I’m handsome. That you would have let me kiss you back there in dry goods.”
She was still spluttering in indignation at this wild exaggeration of events as they stepped out into the main street.
The wagon was waiting, with Sarah at the reins.
And here came an even more familiar figure, advancing down the street on horseback—Stephen McDowell himself.
Lyla stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating faster.
She felt guilty, as though she had done something she oughtn’t to have done—and yet, had she really misbehaved?
She was stern with herself. No, she had done nothing she ought to be reproached for.
Except for her growing feeling of attraction to Rhett—and for that, she could only reproach herself in her own heart, for she would die before admitting it to anyone else.
At her side, Rhett himself had stopped cold. He seemed to be gathering himself—for what, Lyla wondered, before she remembered Stephen’s assertion that he himself had caused Rhett to be thrown in jail.
Oh dear…
“Here comes Stephen,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your help, Rhett—I mean, Mr. Hammond—but I’m certain we can manage from here on.”
He didn’t budge.
“Stephen, eh?” he said. “I suddenly realize it looks an awful lot like you’re goin’ to marry Stephen McDowell, Miss Lyla. Would it be fair to say that’s the case?”
She bit her lip. “Yes, Stephen and I are engaged. I came here as a mail-order bride, expressly to marry him.”
“I see,” he said. His voice was suddenly soft, and she turned her head swiftly to try to catch the look in his eyes that might accompany that note of regret.
But if his regret had shown on his face for even a moment, it was gone now, replaced by that teasing light that she couldn’t help but find attractive—even if it was beginning to drive her a little crazy at the same time.
“I reckon that’s something to do with the fact of his money—either he was afraid that the local girls would only want to marry his fortune without caring for him at all, or he feared that a marriage contract might be some scheme by another rancher. Am I right?”
She was loathe to tell him that he was, indeed, correct—and as Stephen came up to them at that very moment, she was thankfully spared the need to do so. Her husband-to-be was frowning mightily; and a man his size, Lyla thought a bit dazedly, could frown with more impact than other men.
“You,” he said. “Rhett Hammond, what on earth are you doing with my wife?”
“I just offered to help carry her packages, that’s all—seein’ as you were unavailable at the moment.”
Somehow, Stephen managed to frown even more deeply. She began to fear that his brows would migrate further down his face from the stress being placed on them.
.
“Give me those,” he said, and took them without waiting for obedience. “How on earth did you escape from jail, you rascal? And fancy showin’ your face in the middle of town!”
“Simple,” Rhett said, shrugging. “The sheriff opened the door and let me out. Easiest escape of all time.”
“But how? A cattle rustler like you…”
Rhett held up a declamatory finger.
“Poacher,” he said.
Stephen gaped at him.
“You what?”
“I confessed readily enough—to poaching, not cattle rustlin’.
You’ll remember you didn’t catch me in the act of anything nefarious, apart from lurkin’ around your property of an evening.
Poaching, Mr. McDowell.” He grinned. “A much lesser offense—and besides, with all these cattle rustlers around, there’s just not enough room in that jail.
Sheriff Edwards can’t incarcerate everyone, you know. ”
For a moment, Lyla genuinely thought that Stephen was going to haul off and hit Rhett.
She could sympathize with it; the younger man’s cheeky smugness was difficult to tolerate, and she wasn’t even the target of it this time.
At the same time, Rhett Hammond was so obviously enjoying getting the better of the infuriated rancher that she had the strangest urge to laugh.
The rich and the desperate. And sometimes, the desperate win.
She would not cheer him on, of course not.
But in her heart, some small unacknowledged feeling was waving a small flag.