The Legacy Page 3

  Whiskers stuck to her side like an attack cat. She would’ve smiled if she hadn’t been so annoyed at the whole prospect of hiding from the man. It wasn’t as if he’d threatened her, or at least not with anything but polite concern, yet Rosalyn was still unsettled. She didn’t know if it was from her reaction to the man or something he’d done, but she followed her instincts. They were crying danger.

  Dipping her tin cup into the trough, she set it aside to rinse. With the sliver of soap from her washrag, she soaped up her hands. Of course, her gaze strayed to the jail and she wondered if he was in there and what he was doing. She shouldn’t be thinking about the man, but there he was like a ghostie in her brain.

  As if she’d conjured him, he stepped out of the jail into the fading sunlight. The orange glow from the sunset bathed him, turning his brown hair into a fiery halo. She stopped in mid-wash to stare, every small hair on her body standing on end. Her heart thundered, blood pumping past her ears until she could hear nothing but the rhythm of her body.

  She’d never experienced anything like it. Before she could even think about running, he spotted her and smiled.

  Shit.

  The man smiled like an angel from heaven above. Rosalyn’s feet were rooted to the ground, helpless as he walked toward her, a lean-hipped swagger that reminded her again of a big brown cat. He took off his hat and nodded. Her body had taken control and refused to budge an inch even as her head screamed at her to run.

  “Good evening, Rosalyn.”

  Well, now he knew her name. She wondered who’d snitched on her.

  “I told you to leave me alone. Are you deaf or just stupid?” Her heated reaction was part annoyance, part arousal. Seeing the handsome man with the whiskey eyes did something to her no man had ever done— made her lose control. Whiskers meowed noisily at her feet.

  “Neither, ma’am. I’m just trying to do the right thing.” He glanced at the soap in her hand. “Can I offer you some supper?”

  Rosalyn’s heart slammed against her chest in anger and disappointment. Her temporary lunacy broke like a bubble. How dare he? She wasn’t a charity case to throw food at because he wanted to feel good about himself. After rinsing her hands with the tin cup of clean water, she wiped them on her handkerchief and walked toward him.

  A look of puzzlement drifted across his features before he smiled again. Rosalyn smiled back then pushed him in the horse trough. He landed with a huge splash, spraying water every which way. The look on his face, however, sent her into peals of laugher. Shock, surprise and bewilderment. It had probably been years since anyone had taken advantage of the tough sheriff.

  Unfortunately, Rosalyn forgot just how fast he moved. Within seconds, he was back on his feet and coming straight at her. Her hesitation cost her plenty because he got a hold on her arm, a tight grip that told her the surprise from the dunking was over. Sheriff Calhoun was angry.

  Whiskers was nowhere to be found, but Rosalyn didn’t blame the cat. She tried to twist away but his hold was too strong. Before she could utter a protest, she was immersed in the horse trough. The cold water shocked her so much she left her mouth open and a gush of it slid down her throat. She choked and sputtered, trying desperately to crawl out of the water.

  He hauled her out of the trough as quickly as he’d thrown her in. She flopped onto his shoulder, stomach down, and the water in her throat ended up on his backside. If she wasn’t gasping for air, she’d have laughed at the sight.

  The sheriff spanked her behind once. “That wasn’t very nice, Rosalyn.” He stomped into the jail, slamming the door behind him.

  A shiver of fear ran down her back and she struggled against him. Just because he was sheriff didn’t mean he wouldn’t throw her on the mattress and stick his prick in her. She’d promised herself years ago to protect herself from any and all men.

  “Relax, little one. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice echoed with sincerity, yet Rosalyn couldn’t stop the panic.

  He set her on her feet and stepped back, closing the cell door in her face. Rosalyn gaped at the bars, then at him. He’d lost his hat somewhere along the way and his wavy brown hair hung in wet strands down his cheeks. A bit of green slime from the trough stuck to his jaw and she had the mad urge to wipe it off.

  “What are you doing? Let me out of here.” Rosalyn touched the cold metal bars and shivered.

  “You just assaulted an officer of the law, therefore, you broke the law. I’m within my rights to arrest you.” He put his hands on his hips and glared. “You had no call to push me in that trough.”

  “You did the same to me.” Rosalyn didn’t mean to sound petulant, it just happened.

  “No, I didn’t. I dunked you to teach you a lesson.” He pointed at the bars. “Just as this is meant to teach you a lesson. My pa believes the hardest lessons are the ones we remember the best.”

  Rosalyn swallowed the tang of the water on her tongue. “I learned my lesson, now let me out.”

  “You can stay here for tonight. I won’t let anyone else in here so don’t worry about that.” He swiped his hand down his face. “In the meantime, I’m going upstairs to get you a towel. I don’t suppose you have another set of clothes?”

  “You can’t be serious.” Rosalyn’s anger kicked aside her apprehension.

  “Oh, I’m serious.” He turned away, heading for the stairs at the end of the room. “Be right back.”

  Rosalyn listened to his boots on the stairs, followed by a squishy sound from the water within them. She stuck her tongue out at the empty space. “Ha! That’ll teach you.”

  She yanked on the bars, rattling the door within its hinges. Of course, a little rattle did not mean it was going to open. She pulled harder and only succeeded in almost wrenching her arms from their sockets. By the time he came back a minute later with a towel, she had worked up a good fit.

  He handed her the towel between the bars and she grabbed it hard, knocking him off balance. His shoulder bumped into the bars and he grunted. Rosalyn smiled and tugged harder. When he tugged back, the bars were suddenly in front of her nose. His hand was the only thing that stopped her from bloodying it.

  “Don’t try that again, little one. I won’t be so nice next time.” His gaze told her that what he said, he meant.

  Rosalyn spat the taste of the water on the floor. “You don’t scare me, Sheriff. I’ve survived harder men than you.”

  Regardless of his plans for her, Rosalyn wasn’t about to allow him to cow her. It was too important to let him know that he couldn’t, rather than he shouldn’t.

  The sheriff glanced down at her spit, then dropped the towel on it. “I guess you ought to get cleaned up then.”

  When he turned away, she growled and stomped her foot. How did a simple act turn into a temper tantrum from a jail?

  “After I change I’m going to get us some supper from Elsa. I suggest you dry yourself off while I’m gone. I’ll lock the door so no one comes in to bother you.” His voice was full of tightly controlled annoyance and something that might be respect.

  Or at least she thought that’s what it was. She hadn’t been around people enough to be able to read them exactly, but what she did know let her believe that Calhoun meant what he said. He was teaching her a lesson. Too bad Rosalyn didn’t want to be his pupil.

  Noah clenched his shaking hands into fists so Rosalyn wouldn’t see how much she affected him. He ran up the steps and dug around in his saddlebags for his second set of clothes. He shed the sodden ones, and they plopped to the floor. How had things gotten so out of control in a breath of a moment?

  He only wanted to talk to her to find out who she was and why she lived on the streets of Chancetown. When she pushed him in that trough, Noah was overtaken, awash in emotions that he didn’t know what to do with. He’d been battered by deep anger, a thirst for revenge and raging passion, as if Rosalyn had reached in and pulled it all out of him. Suddenly there he was, dunking her in the water and throwing her in the jail cell. What had poss
essed him?

  Growing up under the thumb of an evil man had taught Noah how to be small, to be unseen. Living with his adoptive parents for six years had brought him forward but not completely out of the four walls he’d built around himself so long ago. With one twitch of her mouth and a laugh that would likely haunt his dreams for weeks, Rosalyn laid siege to those walls.

  Noah had nothing to towel off with since he’d given her the threadbare one he had. He used his clean shirt to blot the water. He’d find the bathing house another time. He was sure Marina knew who he could pay to do his laundry and where to take a bath—two things he really needed to do. With Mayor Dickinson watching his every move and rumored sheep and cattle rancher problems, the job that had seemed like a dream, an easy solution to a tough problem, was going to be harder than he’d ever anticipated.

  When Noah left home three years ago, his mother asked him not to go. She didn’t beg, or tell, she just looked at him with those green eyes and asked. Noah hadn’t been able to stay. He was grateful to the Calhouns and Malloys for all the love and family they gave him. Something he’d never had, even from his own mother who’d died when he was twelve. Nicky had given him love and the confidence to be who he was. Tyler had given him the skills to survive. Together they had given an orphan a home and a new life.

  Noah pulled on his dry clothes, wondering why, now, he was so melancholy about leaving home. It had been three years and he thought he’d be over the sadness, the ache of wanting to see his family again. His little sisters and brother, the cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. He shook his head to clear it. Getting maudlin while he had a woman locked up in his jail cell was not a good idea.

  He dumped the water out of his boots the best he could and left the sodden pile of clothes for later. He grabbed his soap from the saddlebags as well as a chipped pitcher of water from the dresser in the room. As he walked downstairs, he braced himself for another confrontation with Rosalyn. She stood where he’d left her, arms crossed, violet eyes flashing. Her tangled black hair fell in wild waves around her heart-shaped face. The shapeless brown rag that passed as a dress clung to every bit of her body.

  Noah had been too angry to notice that Rosalyn was definitely not a young girl. She was a woman, all woman, with gentle curves and full breasts his hands twitched to trace. His confusion was kicked aside by the passion that again surged inside him. It seemed ridiculous to feel such intensity for a woman who lived on the streets, who’d probably like nothing more than to never see him again.

  His blood thrummed through his veins, and his balls grew heavy as tingles raced up and down his hardening staff. She must’ve seen something in his eyes because her angry gaze turned wary and she stepped back, her arms in a protective pose.

  “I ain’t giving you nothing.”

  Noah shook his head. “I’m not asking you for anything.”

  “You lie. I see it in your eyes, Sheriff.” She glanced at his trousers.

  “Oh, you definitely lie.”

  Noah stepped closer. He could see her tremble as if forcing herself to stay put, to not be intimidated by him.

  “I won’t hurt you, Rosalyn. I promise.” He moved even closer. “You might want to dry off. It still gets pretty chilly at night.”

  He hoped to do more than scare her and throw her in a jail cell, but unless she was willing to let him, he couldn’t. The last thing he wanted was to force Rosalyn into letting him help her. She was a person and deserved more respect than that, but she also couldn’t go around pushing the town sheriff into a trough on his first day.

  Noah knew about appearances and what people thought. He’d lose credibility if there were no consequences. What he was doing to her wasn’t exactly punishment, he was helping her. He had to keep repeating that to himself, then perhaps he might believe it.

  He reached through the bars and set the pitcher and soap on the floor next to the towel. “I’m leaving to get supper and see about getting you some dry things.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Her anger ballooned into a threat.

  “Dare what?”

  “I don’t need your charity, Sheriff.”

  “Call me Noah.”

  “I don’t need your charity, Noah,” she repeated. “You let me out of this cell and I’ll go get my own dry clothes.”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that. You broke the law. For that, you’re going to spend the night in here.”

  She bared her teeth in a snarl. Noah reacted like a dog scenting a bitch in heat. He stood straighter, trembling with the force of the blood rushing around in his veins. Their gazes locked.

  “I hate you.” The venom in her voice was enough for three snakes. Noah flinched. “I’m sorry to hear that because I really only want to help you.”

  Rosalyn strode forward and gripped the bars, narrowing her gaze.

  “You’re a liar. If you wanted to help me you wouldn’t keep me locked up in here. You think just because you’re a man that you can do whatever you want. Just look out, Sheriff Noah. Soon as your back is turned, I’ll be gone so fast you’ll never catch me.”

  Noah believed every word of it. She didn’t want his help and from what she said, she didn’t need his help. He was going to give it to her whether she objected or not.

  Chapter Three

  Rosalyn shivered in the cold cell, cursing herself for wishing the sheriff would hurry back with dry clothes. She’d told him she didn’t want dry clothes, but she’d also bet a week’s worth of Elsa’s slops that he brought them anyway.

  Noah.

  His name invoked wishes a woman like her should never have. That man would never want someone who lived in an alley with only a cat for company. She’d done some terrible things to survive, things even she didn’t want to think about. A man like him probably would turn away in disgust from her if he knew the truth.

  Better to keep him at a distance than to allow him to get any closer. Rosalyn was no fool; she refused to risk her heart for any man, even if his brown eyes were burned into her memory.

  She leaned her head on the bars and sighed. Pushing him in the trough had been a mistake. She acknowledged that now, however, it was too late to turn back time. Apparently Noah didn’t like to be toyed with, even if it had been pretty dang funny. Dunking her in the water had been a surprise, not to say she hadn’t deserved it, but she certainly hadn’t liked it.

  The scrape of the door startled her and she jumped about a foot in the air. Fortunately for her, he was looking down, so he didn’t see her silly reaction. When he shut the door behind him, the aroma of fresh bread and some kind of meat wafted toward her.

  Rosalyn’s mouth watered at the smell and the sight of Noah walking toward her with a paper-wrapped package and a heaping plate of food.

  He eyed her. “If I give you the food, are you going to throw it? If you are, let me know now because I don’t want to waste these pork chops and gravy.”

  Pork chops. Oh Lord, her favorite.

  “No, I swear I won’t.” Her stomach rumbled loud enough to rattle the windows.

  A grin played around his mouth. “I think I believe you.”

  He set the package down and fished the keys out of his pocket. When the tumbler scraped in the lock, he looked her in the eye. The door swung wide. This was her chance, the opportunity to throw the hot food in his face and run. He knew it too. The wariness in his eyes battled with a big dollop of hope.

  For some reason, this man wanted to help her. She had no idea why or what he’d get from it, but the earnestness in his face couldn’t be mistaken. Could it be he was a genuine person? An honest person?

  In her experience most men were dishonest. Rosalyn promised herself she’d find out his real reasons for helping her, but her hunger overcame her need for the truth. She sat on the cot and waited.

  Noah’s brows shot toward his hairline when she gave in, but he didn’t say a word. Instead he pulled an empty plate from beneath the full one and handed it to her along with a fork from his pocket. Then he
kneeled on the floor and offered her the first pass at the food.

  A stupid lump formed in her throat at the gesture. Not only was the sheriff being kind to her after she’d humiliated him, but he’d brought her the first true meal she’d had in so long she couldn’t remember it. A welling of respect and a grudging friendliness hit her.

  She used the fork to grab half the mashed potatoes and a pork chop, then a passel of peas and a hunk of bread. It smelled heavenly and it was really hot. Not the lukewarm hot she was used to. She dug into the peas and shoved a forkful in her mouth. The butter and the sweet taste of the vegetable coated her tongue. With a moan of delight, she took another huge mouthful and closed her eyes in sheer delight.

  “Good peas?”

  She opened one eye to glare at him, still kneeling and looking at her with amusement. “Get up and eat your own food. Quit staring at me. It ain’t polite.”

  “No, it isn’t polite.”

  “You gonna correct my speech now too?” she grumped.

  “My mama did until she cured me of my poor schooling.” He sat cross-legged on the floor with the plate in his lap. “Eventually it became second nature to speak correctly.”

  “Why did you have poor schooling if your mama was smart like that?” A heaping forkful of potatoes went down easily after the peas.

  “My real mama wasn’t schooled. It was the folks who adopted me who taught me.” He didn’t meet her gaze and Rosalyn decided he didn’t really want to talk about it.

  Noah ate like a gentleman, alternately using his fork to take humansized bites, and wiping his mouth with a handkerchief he’d laid on his leg. She didn’t know whether to be surprised by the fact that he sat on the floor to eat with her or that he chose to eat with her.

  Rosalyn hadn’t had company for her meals other than Whiskers in many years. It felt odd to eat with another person.