Clanton's Woman Read online

  She had known this man barely an hour, but she had already learned that dealing with him would be straightforward, though not simple.

  “Oh, over there,” she said with a sigh, indicating a lot at the end of the street. It was high time she stopped butting heads with the man and went on her way. Sammi was alone in their motel room and would be worried about her.

  Jack and Mallory walked the half block to her car and he waited until she had unlocked the door and was ready to climb in before he said, “Good night, Mallory. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m looking forward to a long and productive…partnership.”

  “So am I,” she answered coolly, and knew she was lying through her teeth. There was nothing else she could do now, though. She was committed and wished she wasn’t.

  Quickly, she sat, he closed the door, and she started the engine. As she drove away and made the turn that would take her to the highway, she glanced back to see Jack still standing where she had left him.

  He stood with his feet slightly apart and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as if he owned the world. Mallory had the feeling that if they were partners in any way, she was the junior one.

  Her hands gripped the wheel and she had to force herself to relax them as she tried to analyze what bothered her about him. Maybe bothered wasn’t the right word, she thought. Intrigued might be more accurate. And that thought disturbed her even more.

  Her ancestors may have found the original Clantons and their friends, the McLowerys, to be dangerous, but she doubted that those old-time outlaws had anything on Jack.

  He didn’t carry a gun. He may never have broken a law, but her reaction to him told her he was dangerous just the same.

  * * *

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “No, I signed all the papers this morning. This place is ours.”

  “Oh, joy.”

  “It’ll be perfect for us.” Mallory looked around happily at the home she had purchased, then at her sister’s dismayed face.

  “It doesn’t look any better than it did the first time we saw it.” Samantha’s gentle brown eyes, as soft as a doe’s, were full of worry. She was winding a strand of chestnut hair around and around her finger in her lifelong signal of distress.

  The two of them were standing on opposite sides of the room, Mallory looking the place over with eager anticipation, Sammi with dread.

  “I know, but like I told you, I’ve found someone who can do repairs. In fact, his grandfather built this place, so he’ll do a good job fixing it up just the way we want it.” She hoped. After a good night’s sleep, she had decided she had been suffering from an overactive imagination last night. There was nothing about Jack Clanton that should unnerve her. Theirs was a simple business deal, and she was the boss.

  Mallory had talked to her realtor that morning and mentioned Jack’s desire to own the house. The woman had said she’d known about it, but Diane Aylesworth had insisted he couldn’t have it. Mallory wondered what on earth he had done to earn Miss Aylesworth’s dislike.

  “Mallory?” Sammi’s voice quavered. “What’s wrong?”

  Realizing that she had been frowning, Mallory faced Sammi with a manufactured smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Long-legged and graceful, her rich brown ponytail swinging down her back like a rope of satin, she strode across the littered wooden floor and put an arm around her petite sister’s shoulders. Her eyes were alive with anticipation as she gave Sammi a squeeze. “Ah, don’t worry, honey, it’s going to be all right. You’ll like this house once it’s ready, and you’ll like it here in Tombstone.”

  “Why couldn’t we stay in Illinois, or in Tucson? Why do we have to move here?”

  Repressing an inward sigh because they had been through this a number of times before, Mallory gave her sister a second quick hug, then released her. Shy and quiet, overprotected by their parents because she had been slower than other children, Sammi had always needed constant encouragement and reassurance, now more than ever before.

  “Because Mom and Dad waited a long time for their retirement from the hardware store back home and because they deserve a chance to do what they want without having to worry about us.”

  “Yeah, but I worry about them. They’re so far away—building homes for poor people in Africa.” Sammi shook her head as if she still couldn’t believe it.

  “You could have gone along,” Mallory pointed out.

  Sammi gave her an in-your-dreams look and Mallory grinned. “Well, then, kiddo, you’re stuck with me. The gift shop I bought in town is a thriving business where we can work together. You want us to be together, don’t you?”

  Sammi cast her sister a doubtful look and Mallory burst out laughing. “Well, don’t knock me over with your enthusiasm.”

  “I’ve never worked in a shop. I’ve never worked anywhere.”

  “But you can learn. You’ll be good with the customers. People always like you.”

  “I know.”

  Mallory bit her lip to keep from laughing. Sammi was completely without guile. She always said what she thought and got away with it because of her natural sweetness.

  She started to offer more reassurances, then thought better of it. At least Sammi was acknowledging that she could deal with customers. That admission indicated some progress. She had been known to do things she didn’t really want to do just to please her sister or parents. Mallory didn’t want that to happen. It was important that Sammi feel she was really part of the decision without any pressure placed on her.

  It was even more important that she begin to grow up. After all, she was eighteen now. She needed to start being responsible for herself and her own decisions.

  Getting her to this point had been a real struggle, much of it between Mallory and her parents. They had worked in the family hardware store years after they should have retired and set out on their longedfor Peace Corps service because Sammi didn’t want to go along and they couldn’t bear to leave her behind.

  It had taken a long time for Mallory to convince them, and their agreement had only come about when Mallory had actually filed for divorce. They’d realized that she and Sammi would be good for each other. Because their letters were so full of enthusiasm over their work and the people they were helping, Mallory didn’t dare tell them things weren’t working out very well. She could only hope Sammi’s melancholia would improve with time.

  As if she could read Mallory’s thoughts, Sammi sighed.

  Knowing she needed some space, Mallory, full of her usual restless energy, walked across to the wide windowsill, the only available seating in the bare room. The seat was cracked and the front half of the board rocked beneath her as she sat down. Cautiously, she turned so that her back was to the afternoon sun that streamed in, warming her through her white T-shirt and snug jeans. She stretched her long legs out before her and arched her back to the welcome rays.

  “We’ve had so many changes already,” Sammi said softly.

  “I know, and I’m sorry about it. Things will never be like they were, though. Even after Mom and Dad come home, they won’t be going back to Illinois. They’ll buy a house here in Arizona.”

  “I know.” Sammi, as tiny and pale as a waif, circled the big, empty room and gazed into the decrepit kitchen. Mallory had to admit the place did look pretty bad. It wasn’t at all like the beautiful home in which they had grown up. That house had been sold and the furnishings put in storage.

  With a determined smile, Mallory motioned to her sister. “Come here and look at this view.”

  Obediently, Sammi crossed the room and Mallory steadied the board so she could join her. They sat knee-to-knee on the wide sill and gazed across the small valley to the mesa below. On it was perched one of the most notorious towns of the Old West.

  Mallory had been surprised when she had first seen the town on a day’s visit with some college friends several years ago. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, considering that it had once been the most cosmopolitan to
wn between San Antonio and San Diego. There was very little evidence of the silver mines that had once drawn miners from as far away as China and Wales, although a person didn’t have to venture very far afield before running into honeycombs of abandoned mine shafts made even more dangerous by flooding from the high underground water table.

  Since that first visit, Mallory had kept a special affection for the place. She knew a great deal about the history of the area, in fact, the whole state, thanks to six years with her ex-husband, who was a professor of Western history.

  With an effort, she focused on the view. Thoughts of him weren’t going to intrude on this beautiful day.

  The sweep of desert up to the mesa was beautiful. From where they sat, she could see the redbrick Tombstone Courthouse Museum. Once the courthouse for Cochise County, it was now a state historic park, beautifully preserved and renovated much as it had been one hundred years ago. Far in the distance, she could see the Dragoon Mountains.

  She felt as though it would be very easy for her to develop roots here. After the terrible upheavals and emotional storms of the past year, this new start was what she and Sammi both needed. She propped her small, pointed chin in her hand, placed her elbow on her knee, and enjoyed the view.

  On top of the mesa, she saw a man on horseback. He cantered down a paved road, then onto a narrow path. She admired the easy sway of his body as he fitted his own rhythm to that of his loping mount. He seemed so much a symbol of the West, of the independence and self-sufficiency she sought for herself and for Sammi, that she sighed dreamily. She watched him until he headed his horse down a trail into the small valley and disappeared behind a stand of mesquite. She turned to her sister eagerly. “We could get you a horse. Would you like that?”

  “If it’s gentle.”

  “Nah,” Mallory teased. “I thought we’d get you a bucking bronco.” When Sammi didn’t react but still looked worried, Mallory sighed and said, “We’ll like it here. Remember, we grew up in a small town.”

  “Not this small, and it was only a couple of hours to Chicago.”

  “If we miss the city too much, Tucson is only an hour away. We can go in for a wild shopping spree anytime you want.”

  “How about now?”

  Ignoring her, Mallory went on enthusiastically. “We’ve got family history in this town. Our greatgreat-grandfather’s cousins were lawmen here, remember? Wyatt, Virgil, Morgan. Warren and James lived here, too. That practically makes us natives.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that one of them died here?”

  Never should have mentioned that. Mallory wrinkled her nose. “Well, yeah. The one named Morgan.”

  “And another one was shot so bad he could never use his arm again.”

  “Mind like a steel trap,” Mallory muttered. Where was Sammi’s usual vagueness and uncertainty now?

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, too bad about that. The one who was injured was named Virgil. But that’s not going to happen to us, and look at this house,” she said heartily, waving her hand around. “I’ve always loved adobe. Walls a foot thick, cool in the summer and warm in the winter. What more could we ask for?”

  Sammi eyed the dirty floor. The Mexican tiles should have been a reddish brown but instead were dun-colored. “How about a broom?”

  “Now, Sis, it’s true that the last owners weren’t exactly in love with cleanliness. They were elderly and things were probably too much for them, and—”

  “They kept a goat in the bedroom.”

  Darn that big-mouthed realtor. “That shouldn’t bother you, as much as you love animals.”

  “It smells like a goat.”

  “We’ll clean the room.”

  “There are stains on the kitchen ceiling and the sink has a big crack in it.”

  Even someone with limited experience in the world knew what that meant—a leaky roof and bad plumbing. “We’ll get it fixed.” Mallory nodded thoughtfully. “In fact, I think we’ll remodel the kitchen. The cabinets are a joke.”

  “This whole house is a joke,” Sammi said, but a tiny smile was beginning to tickle the edge of her mouth.

  Mallory encouraged the game with a grin of her own. She reached over and tugged on one of Sammi’s curls.

  Sammi returned the favor, grabbing Mallory’s ponytail and giving it a pull as she said, “Both the bedrooms are tiny, smaller than my closet back home in Illinois.”

  Mallory spread her hands wide. “We’ll turn your whole bedroom into a closet and you can sleep outside.”

  Sammi giggled. “It might be winter by the time we move in here.”

  “I’ll give you a blanket—two on a really cold night,” Mallory said magnanimously.

  “I think I’d rather sleep inside after all.”

  “Maybe Jack can make the bedrooms bigger.”

  “Maybe he can build us a whole new house,” Sammi suggested hopefully, but Mallory could tell she was resigning herself to their home.

  As she glanced around, Mallory’s agile mind began clicking over possibilities. The walls and floors were sound. The thick walls were plastered on the inside, but the paint was dingy and streaked with stains whose origins she didn’t want to think about too closely.

  Seventy-five years old, with wiring and plumbing that validated its age, the place had charm and character all its own. Sure it was dirty, well, all right, filthy, but it could be cleaned.

  This house would be remodeled the way she wanted it. She could help Jack by giving him directions on exactly how she and Sammi wanted it done. She intended to be fully involved in the project.

  “You loved this place the minute you saw it,” Sammi said with a hint of accusation in her tone.

  Roused from her thoughts, Mallory turned back to her sister. “Well, did you see one you liked better?”

  “No.”

  “Then this is it for us.”

  “I bet it doesn’t snow here.”

  Accustomed to the way Sammi slipped from one topic to another, needing assurance on several points at once, Mallory answered gently. “That makes it all the more special because it’s so rare.”

  Silence stretched between them as Sammi thought things over. Mallory looked away from her sister’s struggle. The rider she had noticed earlier had emerged from the arroyo about half a mile away. He cantered easily along the road, his body swaying with the horse’s movements.

  Sammi’s hesitant voice brought her back to their conversation. “I can have animals?”

  “All you want. I already checked with the city authorities. It’ll be fine as long as they’re properly penned up and cared for. I’ll bet Jack knows someone who can build the pens for us.”

  She hesitated, realizing that she sounded very sure of Jack Clanton—strange behavior for someone who was so hesitant to hire him only last night and felt manipulated into doing so.

  Mallory pushed that troubling thought aside and focused on Sammi, reading the acceptance in her sister’s soft face. “The size of this lot is one of the reasons I like this place so much.”

  They were both quiet for a moment, deep in their own thoughts, until Sammi said, “Is it going to be all right, Mallory?”

  Mallory slipped her hand into Sammi’s and gave it a squeeze. “It’s going to be perfect.”

  Sammi rolled her eyes at the exaggeration. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Have a little faith in your big sis, will ya?”

  They smiled at each other. The phrase was an old family joke. Whenever the three women in his life were giving him grief or questioning his judgment, their father would remind them to have a little faith in their old dad. The memory made Mallory ache for her parents and she knew Sammi felt the same.

  “Why don’t we see if we can call Mom and Dad this weekend? We can tell them about the house.”

  “They’ll be thrilled,” Sammi answered in an ironic tone, but she smiled. “Promise to call them?”

  “We can try.” Telephone reception was always chancey wh
ere their parents were stationed, but occasionally the connection was as clear as a bell. “We might get lucky.”

  The sound of a horse’s hooves striking gravel caught their attention and they turned toward the window. Jack Clanton cantered up the driveway astride a big roan. Mallory straightened in surprise. He was the rider she had been watching. The one she had been admiring. Mallory shook her head, dismayed at the thought even as she noticed the sure way he handled the reins. She had to admit that he looked very handsome and masculine dressed in a blue plaid shirt, denim jacket and jeans. His tan cowboy hat was set squarely above his eyes.

  Mallory recalled the strange sensations she had experienced last night when they’d shaken hands on the deal.

  Even now, she felt a breathless moment of confusion. She had to get control of this, she berated herself. She took a couple of breaths, then frowned as she concentrated on Jack. Whoever heard of a contractor coming on horseback to estimate a job? Trust Jack Clanton to do things his own way.

  “Come on.” She clasped her sister’s hand and drew her to her feet. “This is the man we’ve been waiting for.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHEN they emerged from the house, Jack pulled up the big roan mare and dismounted. He let the reins dangle to the ground, which allowed the horse to move to a patch of grama grass growing at the corner of the house.

  Jack dug a small notebook and a slim calculator from his shirt pocket and strolled over to greet them. “Afternoon, Miss Earp,” he said, tipping his hat. In the bright afternoon sunlight, she could see things she hadn’t noticed in the artificial light of his little weathered shack or the dimness of the streetlights.

  His light green eyes were as sharply intelligent and observant as ever, but now she could see fine lines that rayed out from their corners. They were indications of experience and made her think that this man’s life hadn’t been easy, but that he had come to terms with it. She found herself focusing on his hands, recalling their touch, their toughness and strength, and unwillingly comparing them to Charles’s soft, almost feminine ones.

  Heavens, she thought, giving herself a mental shake. She had to stop this!