CIMARRON SURRENDER

Marion Marshall

FOR CAROLYN HANNA

Thanks for everything. As always, your input makes me a better writer. I couldn't have done it without you!

CHAPTER ONE

1882

Cimarron, Texas

Abby Prescott leaned her forearms on top of her broom as she gazed up the dusty street. It was near lunch time and her mind was more concerned with her empty stomach than the boring chore of sweeping the boardwalk in front of her parent's general store. Sweeping the store's entrance was a daily job that Abby actually enjoyed most days because it gave her the opportunity to view the activities of the small southwestern Texas town.

Her gaze fell on the trio of grim faced men riding down the street toward her. The bold way they stared at her as they rode past caused her to begin sweeping again furiously. Amid the billowing dust cloud she raised, she glanced once more at the men, shivering at the open interest in their faces.

She watched them dismount in front of the saloon further down the street, tie up their horses at the crowded hitching rail, then shoulder their way inside. A half dozen other men just as unkempt and scary, hanging around the saloon's bat-wing doors, made room as the strangers entered the noisy sanctuary.

Abby once more stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom handle as she contemplated how many men like those had descended on Cimarron during the past few weeks.

"Abby, haven't you finished sweeping yet?" came Abby's father's voice from the recesses of the store. "I have a rack of fabric for you to organize. Hurry along, girl. Don't dawdle out there. "

"There's work to do," Abby mimicked softly aloud. Sighing, she resumed sweeping, knowing that a hundred more mundane tasks awaited her inside. "Lord, I can't wait for October to come. Boarding school back East with Aunt Clara is sounding better all the time."

Glancing across the street at the bank, she frowned. "But going away to school means leaving Frederick, too," she reminded herself. She forced a smile to her lips as Frederick Gaston, the bank owner's son, appeared at the front windows and waved to her.

She returned the gesture, and sighing, began sweeping once more. The sound of uproarious laughter, followed by a man being thrown out the front doors of the saloon just up the street made her shiver. "With Cimarron turning to a outlaw haven, maybe I won't miss Frederick as much as I've thought."

She swept busily for a few minutes, trying to keep her thoughts off leaving her home, family, and Frederick. Having never been away from home before, she was torn between the excitement of going away to school, and leaving all that was familiar to her.

She was pulled from those gloomy, conflicting thoughts by an approaching rider. Pausing in her chores, she looked up at the man on a dark bay horse when he halted directly in front of her.

"Morning, ma'am. Nice day, isn't it?"

Abby was wary at his arrival. Lately the men who came to Cimarron were not the sort she was inclined to speak to, but something about this man's manner put her at ease almost immediately.

He leaned his forearms across the saddle horn, waiting for her to respond to his greeting. He was covered with dust, his tan Stetson pulled low against the glare of the July sun. His face was covered with a week's growth of whiskers.

"Yes," Abby murmured self consciously, in answer to his greeting. "It's a lovely morning. Is there something I can help you with?"

The man nodded as he pulled off the hat and wiped one sleeve across his face. "Yes, ma'am. I'm looking for Judge Amos Conners. Do you know where I might find him?"

Abby nodded as she stared speechlessly into the stranger's dark brown eyes. He might be as dangerous looking as any of the other men who had drifted into town during the past few weeks, but the way his eyes warmed and his easy smile made her throat suddenly dry.

He was in his early thirties, she guessed, tall, lean, and quite accomplished with the gun on his hip if the way he wore it was any indication. His hair was black as coal, his face tanned by the relentless Texas sun. His eyes sparkled with geniality and his lips, beneath a thick, well trimmed moustache, had curled back over white teeth into a dazzling smile.

Abby stared at him for a moment, trying to remember his question, then swallowed quickly and lifted a rather shaky hand to point across the street to a building next to the bank.

"There," she said finally, appalled that her voice sounded squeaky and unfamiliar. "His office is in the courthouse."

"Thank you, ma'am," the stranger said with another disarming smile. He placed the hat on the back of his head and tipped it to her in a gesture of respect.

While Abby watched spellbound, he turned his horse and rode across the street. He dismounted, tied the animal to the hitch rail and disappeared into the courthouse without a backward glance.

Only then did she realize her mouth was hanging open. Snapping it shut quickly, she began sweeping furiously. Not only is he probably an outlaw, I just made a complete fool of myself by gaping at him like a starving hound dog, she thought irritably. Then she smiled as she glanced toward the doorway where he had disappeared. But outlaw or not, I've never seen the likes of him before. Until this moment, I never knew a man could look like that.

Her father's sudden appearance at her side drew those disturbing thoughts away from the handsome man. "You weren't talking to that man, were you, Abigail?"

"He asked where Judge Conners' office was, papa. That's all."

She stared at her father, fascinated at the stern expression that settled on his face.

"You stay away from him, Abigail. Do you understand me? Stay completely away from that man."

Abby blinked at the venom in his words. She glanced quickly from her father to the judge's office across the street, then back again. "Why, papa? Who is he?"

Josiah Prescott snorted in disgust. He rubbed his hands on the stained apron he was wearing. With a disgruntled glance at his daughter, he turned back toward the store's entrance, then turned in the doorway to answer her question.

"He may as well be the devil himself, that's who he is, Abigail. That's Kane Darcy."

CHAPTER TWO

Kane Darcy strode across the room toward the man seated behind a massive mahogany desk. Slapping his hat down, he placed both hands on the desk top and leaned forward.

"All right, damn you! I'm here! What the hell do you want?"

Judge Amos Conners fanned away the dust cloud rising from the violent slap of the Stetson against the desktop. Grinning, he leaned back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap and stared up at the angry man across the desk.

"Good morning to you too, Kane. I'm glad to see you. How have you been?"

Kane's dark eyes narrowed with contempt at the judge's cynical familiarity. "You know damned well how I am! "

Judge Conners grinned again. "I'd say you were about two weeks out of Yuma Prison. I must say, Kane, incarceration has not improved your disposition any."

"Did you think it would?"

"I hoped it would. Obviously, I gave you too much credit."

"I see. You thought sending my butt to jail would improve me? Make a better man out of me? Guess that just proves you're an idiot, doesn't it?"

The anger in Kane's trail weary features made the judge smile again. Kane's anger did not frighten him. Even a glance at the Colt .45 on his hip, tied down with a leather thong to his right thigh, and secured by a safety loop over the hammer did not make the judge uneasy.

"I've dealt with men like you for the past thirty years, Kane," he said pleasantly as he opened a desk drawer, produced a bottle of good whiskey and two glasses. He poured both full to the brim and moved one within Kane's reach.

"Some are beyond redemption. I usually hang those. Others have a spark of decency buried somewhere deep inside them. Those I try to save, if I can."

"So I'm one of the savable kind?"

Kane's husky voice was sharp with sarcasm. He took the glass, drained it in one gulp and slapped it back onto the desktop, without ever taking his gaze from the judge's face.

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

"I'm supposed to be grateful that you sent my ass to prison for ten years instead of hanging me?"

"You didn't serve ten years, Kane. You've served exactly eight months of that sentence. And yes, you might be a little grateful that I didn't hang you. I could have, you know. You were as guilty as sin, and we both know it."

"That fella shot first! If you didn't know that, you would've hung me!"

"He caught you in bed with his wife. What did you expect him to do, shake your hand? His reaction wasn't all that surprising considering the circumstances. His problem was that he was no hand with a gun. He was a fool for trying to kill a man who is as good with a Colt as you."

"And don't think for a minute that eight months in that hell-hole was any picnic," Kane retorted, omitting any reference to the judge's remarks. "There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't swear I'll kill you when I got out."

"Is that why you answered my request to come to Cimarron? So you could have that opportunity?"

Kane stared at him silently for a moment, then let out a sigh. He straightened up and squared his shoulders as the slightest sign of a grin touched his lips. "I'm here, Your Honor, because I knew if I didn't show up, you'd have every U.S. Marshal in Texas on my trail."

He took the refilled glass Judge Connors handed him, drained it, and set it back on the desktop before completing the thought. "Let's get down to it, Judge. You sent me to prison, then you got me out of prison on the condition that I come here. Why? What do you want from me?"

Judge Connors studied him for a moment while Kane glared at him. But he knew the struggle was over. He had made a practice of studying men during his long tenure on the bench. He had known Kane Darcy would come to Cimarron as he requested. He also knew Kane would agree to his terms now. He knew because he knew the kind of man Kane Darcy was, even if Kane didn't know himself. That kind of insight came with years of experience, the kind of experience Kane wasn't old enough, or wise enough yet, to have gained.

Judge Connors got up from his plush chair and walked to the front windows. Pushing aside the curtains, he indicated he wanted Kane to join him. Gesturing toward the activity on the street outside, he turned to Kane.

"Take a look out there, Kane. Tell me what you see."

Kane frowned as he leaned forward to look out the window. After a moment, he looked back to the judge. "I see a town…like any other town. Buildings, businesses, people." A wicked grin touched his mouth briefly. "I see a big saloon with a couple dozen working girls hanging over the balcony trying to drum up business."

Judge Connor shook his head wearily. "I can see that a prison term hasn't diminished your sex drive any. I've never known a man, Kane, who has more trouble controlling his urges, or one that gets into more trouble because of them."

Kane shrugged. "I can't help it, Judge. Is it my fault that I'm so damned good looking that ladies can't keep their hands off me?" he said with a grin.

Judge Connors' bushy gray brows arched with amusement. "I suppose not. But it is your fault when you don't take notice of whether or not those ladies have a husband somewhere. I hope that prison has sharpened your instincts in that area."

"Oh, it has, Your Honor. I promise that from now on I'll ask every woman I take to bed if she's married first."

Judge Connors snorted, not believing a word from Kane's devilish grinning lips. "Let's stay on the subject at hand, shall we? You can lie to all those women you want to after we reach an agreement, but we have business to discuss first. Now, look out the window and tell me what you see, other than prostitutes waiting to shower you with their attention."

Kane glanced at the window again, then turned back to the judge with a puzzled expression. "Like I said, it's a town, like any other town, like a thousand towns I've seen before. What am I supposed to see?"

Judge Connors snorted as he pointed toward the fight that had broken out on the boardwalk in front of the saloon. A dozen drifters had gathered around to cheer on their favorite participant. The girls leaning over the balcony called encouragement as well as they watched the proceedings. The townspeople gave the fracas a wide berth as they hurried past to complete their business, looking disgusted and worried.

"This used to be a nice town, Kane. Until a few weeks ago there wasn't even a saloon in Cimarron. Or prostitutes, or gambling, or any of those things. This was a nice quiet place to raise a family. Now that's all changed."

"What changed it?"

"A very nasty range war has erupted between the Belter family and the Greers. They both own big ranches outside town and they're fighting over water rights. Those unpleasant fellows you see out there have drifted in here by the dozens hoping to get in on the fight. Some of the most unpleasant people you could imagine have come here. Now hardly a day goes by without a shooting or a killing. Fights are commonplace. Whores are plying their wares openly on the streets. Decent folk are afraid to walk their own streets anymore."

"What's all that got to do with me?"

Judge Connors grimaced at the bored tone of Kane's voice. He turned his five feet eight inch, two hundred forty pound frame around, glaring up at the younger man. At fifty-five, Amos Connors was still a man to be reckoned with. His hair was now more silver than brown, his body softened by years of good living, but his blue eyes contained an icy element that Kane Darcy remembered well.

"The town council asked me to come here. Then they asked me to help them clean up this town, make it a fit place for decent people again. Now, I can't do much about the Belters and the Greers trying to annihilate each other. I don't even much care if they do. My concern is this town and its people."

"So?"

Judge Connors' gaze dropped to the pearl handled Colt on Kane's hip. "Are you still as good with that gun as you used to be?"

Kane stared at him, baffled at first by the question. Then the light of understanding made his dark eyes narrow and glitter. "Oh no, this isn't going where I think it is, is it?"

Judge Connors grinned as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his expensive trousers. "I need a man who can clean up this town, Kane, make it a decent place again. I need a man who's fast with a gun, and not afraid to use it."

"What you're talking about is a hired gun, Judge. I may have done a lot of things in my life, but I've never hired my gun out."

"Really? There's a couple of ranchers up near the Badlands that would disagree with that statement, Kane."

"Well, except for that time. And that was only because I was down on my luck and needed some traveling money," Kane said with a sheepish shrug.

"What about the time in El Paso last year? Or the time down in Sonora a couple of years ago?"

Kane exhaled slowly as he returned the judge's pointed stare. "All right, so maybe it was more than just once. But that was different."

"Why is it different, Kane? You used your gun for money in a half dozen different causes over the years. I'm offering you money now to use it for me, on the side of law and order. Or is it law and order that you object to?"

"Hell, Judge, if you want me to kill somebody, just point the bastard out. I'll walk out there right now and blow him to hell, if that's what you want. Is that why you got me out of prison? To kill somebody for you?"

Judge Connors had to smile at the sarcastic edge in Kane's voice. He walked back across the room to his desk, opened the top drawer and took out a shiny object. Walking back to the window where Kane waited, he held out the item.

"I want you to do whatever is necessary to clean up this town and make it safe for the people who live here," he said. "If that means having to kill the vermin that are crawling these streets, then that's what I want you to do. But you'll do it the right way, Kane, with the law on your side. That's a big switch for you, I admit, but I have no doubt that you're the man for this job."

Kane stared at the badge in the judge's outstretched hand incredulously. Then his gaze lifted to the judge's face. "You're not suggesting that I put that on, are you?" he asked, gesturing to the badge.

When Judge Connors did not reply, he backed up a step, shaking his head. "Oh no, you're not pinning that on me."

"Do you like being a free man, Kane?" the judge asked shrewdly. "Did you like waking up this morning and breathing fresh air? Do you like being able to walk around without a regiment of soldiers having their rifles trained on your back? Do you like the thought of being able to leave here in a few minutes and going over to the saloon, buying any woman you fancy a drink, and then taking her upstairs and doing what you evidently do so well? Do you?"

"That's what all this is about? Blackmail?"

"That's such an unpleasant term, Kane. I'm offering you a simple choice. You can put on this U.S. Marshal's badge and do the right thing for probably the first time in your life, or...you can go back to Yuma to serve out the rest of your sentence. It's your choice...make it."

The expression on the judge's face was cast from solid granite. It was the same expression Kane remembered well from his appearance in Judge Connors' courtroom. That expression made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Damn you!" he said softly while they glared at each other. "You son-of-a-bitch! You've got your foot on my throat and you're enjoying it."

"Believe it or not, Kane, I'm doing this for your own good, as well as the good of this town."

"Like hell you are!"

"You'd last another few months in prison, maybe. Then you'd do something really stupid, like trying to escape. That would result in your either being killed in the attempt, or killed later when the law caught up with you. Use your head for the first time in your life, Kane. I'm offering you a chance to redeem yourself. Take it."

The judge's words were softly spoken, but were filled with so much conviction that for the moment Kane almost believed him. His dark gaze flashed from the judge's face to the shiny tin badge, then back again.

"I'm a convicted felon, Your Honor. I can't vote. I can't hold a public office. Hell, I'm not even supposed to be wearing a gun. I sure as hell can't be a U.S. Marshal."

"I'm the federal judge who sentenced you, Kane. I'm the federal judge who got you paroled from prison. I'm also the federal judge who can grant you a full pardon. All you have to do is put on this badge, take the oath of office that goes with it, and uphold the duties of the office."

"So all I have to do is swear to uphold law and order in this sweet little hamlet for a few weeks, maybe kill a few bad guys without getting myself killed in the process, and you'll grant me a full pardon?" Kane asked suspiciously.

"Swear to uphold the duties of a federal marshal for as long I deem necessary. When Cimarron is safe again, I'll grant you a full pardon and you can go on your merry way."

Kane glanced back out the window at the fight that was still raging in the street. At least another half dozen men were involved in it now. The noise was ear-shattering as the onlookers cheered on their favorite combatants. All traffic on the street had stopped while the fight grew in ferocity.

"And I'm supposed to do this noble act all by myself, I suppose," he inquired sarcastically. "There's a good dozen men involved in that fracas out there right now. And you want me to walk over there, break up the fight, and put those fellas in jail, without getting myself shot. Right!"

"Kane, my boy, I have no doubt that you can do just that without breaking a sweat. When the people of this town see that you're making an effort to restore law and order, I believe you'll have no shortage of men willing to assist you. In the meantime, however, I'm afraid we're on our own."

"We?"

Judge Connors nodded. "That's right. We. You do the physical part and I'll do the rest. Justice from my bench will be swift and as ruthless as necessary to clean up this town. What's your decision?"

"What the hell kind of choice do I have, Your Honor. Give me the damned badge."

Judge Connors did not even try to suppress his grin as he pinned the silver star on Kane's black leather vest. "Raise your right hand. Now, do you, Kane Darcy, swear to uphold the duties of a United States Marshal to the best of your ability for as long as I deem necessary?"

There was a pointed pause while Kane thought over his options. As he stared into the judge's icy blue eyes, he knew those options were severely limited. It was take the oath or go back to prison. Some damned choice!

"I swear already," he snapped. As an after thought, he asked, "What happened to the last marshal anyway?"

"He got himself killed."

"That's what I figured."

Kane turned back to the window. Instead of watching the fight going on, his attention was focused on the young woman who was furiously sweeping in front of the general store.

"Who is she?"

Judge Connors glanced in the direction Kane was staring. "Forget it, Kane. That girl is out of your league."

"I didn't ask for her pedigree, Judge. I asked you who she is."

"Her name is Abigail Prescott. Her folks own the general store. Her father is head of the town council. And she has a steady suitor," Judge Connors answered suspiciously.

"She sure is pretty," Kane commented as he stared at the girl across the street. "I stopped on my way over here and asked her where to find you. It's been a long time since I've seen eyes that blue, or hair that gold."

"Eight months would be my guess."

"The rest of her isn't bad either. How old is she? Eighteen, nineteen?"

"Eighteen, not that it matters to you," Judge Connors grunted. "I'm warning you, Kane. Keep your mind on the job you're here to do. If you want to play tickle the bunny, do it with the girls at the saloon. Keep your distance from Abby Prescott. She's a lady, not your type at all."

Kane's dark gaze remained on the golden haired creature across the street. He saw her look toward the courthouse and for an instant their gazes locked. Then Miss Abigail Prescott quickly dropped her attention back on the broom in her hands.

"Now, Your Honor, weren't you just lecturing me about making better choices with my life?" he drawled as he directed his attention back to the judge's scowling face. "You want decent? Hell, I can do decent. I might even be good at it. I might even be so good at it that pretty Miss Abigail Prescott over there would appreciate me."

"You keep your pants on. At least around the decent girls in this town. You step out of line, Kane, you make one illicit move toward Abby Prescott and I'll send your sorry ass back to Yuma so fast it'll make your head spin. Got it?"

"Yeah? And then who would you get to do your dirty work, Your Honor?" Kane drawled as he crossed the room to retrieve his hat from the desk. Pulling it down, he flashed the judge a grin as he headed for the door. "Well, I've been a U.S. Marshal for five minutes and I guess it's time I started earning my wages. I am getting paid for this, aren't I?"

"A dollar a day and board. There's a room at the hotel for you. I've arranged with the hotel restaurant for all your meals. Any other needs you may have, are your responsibility."

"Always have been, Judge," Kane replied as he opened the door and stepped out into the heat of the mid-day sun.

He paused for a moment on the boardwalk to look across the street where Abby Prescott was still sweeping. When she glanced up at him, he tipped his hat to her, and grinned when she quickly looked away.

As he stepped into the street and headed in the direction of the saloon brawl, he reached down to remove the safety loop from the hammer of the Colt. He glanced back at Abby for just a moment with a thoughtful expression. This town is looking better by the minute. Hell, I may even like this job.

CHAPTER THREE

"You've swept that same spot at least twice."

Turning at the sound of the laughing female voice, Abby had to laugh herself. Leaning against the porch column was her best friend, Betsy Brennen. Wearing a calico dress and carrying a basket of eggs she intended to sell to Mr. Prescott, Betsy was as dark and exotic as Abby was fair.

"I guess I have," Abby conceded. "I guess my mind was on something else."

"The something else that's coming out of Judge Connors' office right about now?"

Abby's head spun around just in time to see Kane Darcy's respectful acknowledgment. She quickly looked away, then blushed at Betsy's giggle.

"Look at you, Abigail Prescott, you're positively blushing."

"I am not!"

"You are too. Jeez, he's something! So handsome."

Abby's gaze followed Betsy's as Kane moved confidently down the street. "He's probably an outlaw, Betsy. Every strange man that's come into town for weeks is."

"Not this one," Betsy said, still staring at Kane as he walked away. She turned her head sideways to watch him as he neared the fight going on in the middle of the street. ""Nice. Have you noticed the way his trousers fit so snugly across his…"

"Betsy Brennan, don't you dare finish that thought!"

"Well it's true. Not many men look that good when they're walking away from you. And don't tell me you didn't notice."

The two girls stared at each other for a moment, then both burst out giggling at the same moment. "Okay, I noticed. So what?" Abby asked when she regained her breath.

"So what? He's stunning, that's what! Even though he could use a bath and a shave. Just think what he'll look like all cleaned up."

"Who is he, Betsy, and what's so terrible about him? Papa was positively vehement about my talking to him. All he did was ask where Judge Connors was and all I did was answer him. He seemed perfectly nice to me, although maybe a bit...umm, I don't know...dangerous, but not like the other men who've come to town lately. He was very respectful."

"His name is Kane Darcy and Judge Connors sent for him. I heard my ma and pa talking about it this morning. He's going to take the marshal's job and get rid of those horrible men. Pa said he's no different than the men he's here to run out of town, him being a hired gun and all."

Abby listened to Betsy's remarks but her gaze never left Kane's figure. Her eyes widened with alarm when she realized he was walking right into the brawl in front of the saloon. "Oh my, Betsy! He's going to get hurt!"

"Don't be silly, Abby. The man is a hired gunman. I think he can take care of himself."

Abby dropped the broom as she picked up her skirts and hurried up the sidewalk toward the fracas in the street. Betsy could do nothing but hurry after her, knowing they were both going to be in big trouble if their parents found out.

***

At the edge of the brawl, Kane took his pistol from the holster and fired it once into the air. Almost immediately the fighting stopped. The brawling men staggered upright and turned to see who had fired the shot.

"You're all under arrest. Drop your guns into the street and start walking toward the jail."

No one moved. They were all staring at him incredulously, as if they couldn't believe their ears.

"You heard me. Move! I won't tell you again."

The command in his voice was evident to anyone not so drunk that he misunderstood the words. Kane stood with his legs slightly spread, the Colt in his hand, his expression as calm as an autumn morning.

"You better look around, fella," one of the brawny rowdies pointed out. "There's just one of you. What do you think you're gonna do, shoot all of us? You only got five bullets left."

"It'll only take one to shut you up for good."

"Then what? That'll leave you with four bullets."

"Yeah, but you'll be dead. You want take that chance? You've got exactly ten seconds to drop your gun. If it's still on you when that time is up, I'll kill you. Make up your mind."

The expression in Kane's dark eyes convinced the man. He slowly unbuckled his gunbelt and let it fall into the dust at his feet. One by one the others did the same until they were all unarmed.

"Who the hell are you, mister?" one of the men asked, as Kane rounded them up.

"He's a U.S. Marshal, name's Kane Darcy."

Kane grinned at Judge Connors' voice. Turning, he saw the judge holding a sawed off shotgun across both arms. The murderous weapon was trained on the group of troublemakers.

"You heard the marshal, you're all under arrest. Your trial will be in one hour. The party's over, boys. Law and order has come back to Cimarron," Judge Connors said with conviction.

As Amos moved abreast of him, Kane leaned over to ask, "Where the hell is the jail anyway?"

"Two blocks ahead on the left, Marshal, next door to the laundry."

"How convenient," Kane drawled as they herded the band of brawlers down the street. "You can get sobered up and get your drawers ironed all at the same time."

"We try to please here in Cimarron."

Kane chucked as they moved down the street. As they passed a couple of small wide-eyed boys on the boardwalk, he paused long enough to take a coin from his vest pocket and flip it to one of them.

"There's another of those if you boys will pick those gunbelts and bring them to the jail."

The tow-headed boy snagged the flying coin and jammed it into a trouser pocket, then dashed up the street with his companion to pick up the guns.

"You just got out of prison, where did you get money?" Judge Connors asked as he walked at Kane's side.

Kane flashed him one of those dazzling smiles. "I've been out of jail fourteen days, Your Honor. You don't think I spent every minute of that time in the saddle rushing here to answer your summons, do you? I stopped over in El Camino a couple of nights ago."

"The money, Kane? Poker game?"

"Naw, a nice lady who took pity on me and bought my supper, plus a little for expenses."

"Good God! The whores are paying you? I don't believe it!"

"Believe it, Your Honor, believe it," Kane replied with a grin.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Abby on the boardwalk off to the side. As his gaze touched her, she suddenly clasped one hand to her mouth and pointed to a window overhead.

"Marshal, look out!"

Kane turned, saw the man leaning out a hotel window with a rifle, and fired once. The gun clattered down the roof until it landed with a thud on the street. Moments later the owner's body followed suit, sprawling face down in the dirt at Kane's feet.

Kane stepped over the lifeless body and moved on, pausing briefly to tip his hat to Abby. "Thank you, ma'am," he said with a grimace at the horrified expression on her face. "Sorry you had to see that."

Abby could only swallow hard as she stared at him. She felt his gaze sweep over her in those few seconds. She was close enough to see the sincerity that made his eyes gleam, saw the warmth that made his gaze soften. She felt, more than she actually saw, the heat that came into his eyes as his gaze played over her features, then her body, before coming back to rest on her startled face.

When he had moved on down the street, herding the group of troublemakers, she felt sure that he had somehow insulted her. But how could she be sure when she'd never had a man look at her in quite that manner before?

"Oh my gosh! Abby! Did you see how he looked at you? You saved his life! How exciting!"

Betsy's gushing brought Abby's thoughts crashing back to the present. Grabbing up her skirts with one hand, she grabbed Betsy's hand with the other. "Come on, Betsy! Let's get out of here before my papa or yours comes along and catches us! My papa will have a fit!"

CHAPTER FOUR

Josiah Prescott did, indeed, have a fit. By the time Abby got back to the store, someone who had seen her at the scene of the shooting had already told her father. He railed at her for the next hour, telling her how foolish she had acted and how dangerous it was for her to even be on the street at times like that.

"Cimarron is not the same town it was a few weeks ago, Abigail," he told her for the fourth time. "Things have changed, the streets are full of vermin. It's not safe for a lady to be out, even in daylight anymore."

"That's why Marshal Darcy is here, papa," she tried to point out. Her head ached from his shouting and her bewilderment at how saving a man's life could have caused all this uproar.

"Marshal, my eye! He's no better than those men he arrested this afternoon. The only difference is the badge Judge Conners pinned on his chest. It just gave him the legal right to kill, that's all. And he's doing a fine job of it, I'd say! With a large measure of help from you!"

"Would it have been better to let that backshooter kill him, papa? So what if he's not the textbook lawman? This is not a textbook case. Our town is over-run with unsavory characters and Judge Connors has brought in someone who can deal with them. Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire."

Mr. Prescott stared at her in disbelief. "Don't tell me you approve of the judge's handling of this matter? Or maybe you're just so impressed with Kane Darcy's looks that you're missing the point?"

"What do you mean, Josiah?" Abby's mother asked. Deirdre Prescott had not spoken throughout the hour long tirade, but stayed in the background, fussing with her feather duster and wishing her husband would lower his voice before their personal family issues became public knowledge.

Josiah flashed her a surprised glance, as though just realizing she was in the room. "Your daughter was ogling this man just minutes before the shooting. Half the town noticed it. She couldn't keep her eyes off him."

"Oh my, Abby! Surely your father is exaggerating!"

"Of course he's exaggerating, mother," Abby said wearily.

"Did you, or did you not comment to Betsy Brennan that you liked the way Kane Darcy looked walking away?"

Mrs. Prescott's hand flew to her mouth in horror. For a moment, Abby thought her mother might actually faint.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, papa! It was a silly comment that two girls made about an attractive man. And Kane Darcy is attractive, papa. Very attractive. So what?"

"So what? So what?" her father roared. "Go to your room, young lady, and stay there until I decide what to do about your abominable actions this afternoon!"

Tears burned Abby's eyes as she leaped to her feet. "I don't understand why you're so angry, papa. I acted instinctively when I saw that man with a rifle. I knew he intended to shoot Marshal Darcy and all I did was warn him. What is so horrible about that?"

"You have indebted that man to you, that's what!" her father shouted. "By saving his life this afternoon, you have established a personal connection with him. You've given him the right to publicly acknowledge you. I will not have a man like that in our lives! I won't stand for it!"

"Well forgive me for trying to do the right thing!" Abby shouted back. "Should the situation ever arise again, you may rest assured that I'll let some low-life backshooter kill him. Will that make you happy?"

She knew immediately she'd gone too far. Raising her voice to her father was not tolerated, ever. The painful slap across her face that he automatically reacted with was not a surprise.

Stuffing hand into her mouth to choke back the sobs rising in her throat, she raced up the stairs at the back of the store that led to their living quarters. She ran down the hallway to her bedroom at the back of the second floor, slammed the door shut behind her, and flung herself face down across the bed.

She cried until sheer exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.

***

After several hours sleep, Kane felt almost human again. It was nearly dusk when he woke up in the comfortable bed in the hotel room Judge Connors had arranged for him. He crawled out of the bed, stretched and yawned, and began pulling on the clean clothes he'd laid out before going to sleep.

He tucked the long tailed, hunter green shirt into his trousers, sat down to pull on his boots and then reached for the gunbelt hanging over one of the bed posts. It only took a moment to strap on the weapon and tie it down. Pausing to glance at himself in the mirror above a scarred chest of drawers, he ran a hand over his face, smoothed back his hair and put on the Stetson.

He paused at the hotel desk to smile at the bespectacled little man who was behind it. "Thanks for the bath water, Gilbert. I feel like a new man."

The desk clerk gave him a nervous smile as he bobbed his head. "You're welcome, Marshal. Glad to be of service. Funny what a hot bath and a shave will do for you, isn't it?"

"It surely is, Gilbert," Kane answered as he tapped the registration desk with one long finger.

He nodded to a couple coming in from the afternoon stage as he headed for the door. It was dark now but still hot and uncomfortable. He could feel the sweat trickle down his back as he walked up the street toward the general store.

Knowing the store would be locked, he continued on around the building toward the outside staircase that led to the second floor living quarters of the Prescott family. It was amazing how much information you could get from a nervous little hotel clerk when he was filling your bath tub. In the space of ten minutes, Kane had learned more about the Prescott's than he needed to know, including the location of the stairway.

As he neared the backside of the building, he heard voices, one soft and female, the other masculine and raised in exasperation.

"I declare, Abby, I just don't understand you sometimes," Frederick Gaston said. He stood with one highly polished boot on the bottom step of the stair case, his arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his handsome face as he peered down at Abby.

She sat on the step, her shoulders hunched in defeat. She was looking down to avoid his gaze as she waited for an opening in his speech so she could get a word in. "Please, Frederick, I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm tired and my head hurts. I'm sorry, I made a mistake, is that what you want to hear? I should have let the marshal get killed, I'm almost sorry that I didn't. If I'd known what a mess I was making by warning him, I probably wouldn’t have."

"That's not what I mean, Abby. Of course you did the right thing by warning him. Knowing you, you could never have acted differently. It's how you act from now on that I'm concerned about. People are going to be watching you now, to see what happens next."

Abby let out a weary sigh. It was times like this that she didn't like Frederick much. His condescending attitude was irritating at best. Tonight it was almost unbearable. Glancing up at him in the moonlight, she had to check off the things about him that made her remember why she always counted herself lucky to have been chosen to be his girlfriend. While he continued on with his patronizing monologue, she mentally checked off those attributes.

He's attentive, sweet most of the time, respectful, honorable, very handsome, and oh, let's not forget papa's favorite, his father owns the bank and he has a secure future there.

"Are you listening to me, Abby?"

The question finally jerked Abby's thoughts back to the conversation. Her head bobbed automatically as she wondered what she'd missed. "Of course, Frederick," she murmured.

"So you promise you won't have anything further to do with this man?"

"What do you think I'm going to do, Frederick, run away with him?"

The irritation that crept into her voice made Frederick's finely arched brows raise in surprise. "Abigail Prescott! I'm surprised at you!"

"I'm sorry, Frederick. I told you, my head hurts something awful. This has been a horrible day."

"I know, sweetheart," Frederick murmured as he pulled her to her feet and took her into his arms. "But it's over now. Just forget it. And just hope that man forgets it as well," he said with his face buried in her hair.

"I rarely forget someone who saves my life."

Frederick and Abby both jerked upright and whirled around to find Kane leaning against the side of the building. Even in the diminishing light, Abby could see his eyes sparkle with amusement as he straightened up and moved toward them.

He was holding his hat in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "Miss Prescott, I am sincerely, and eternally grateful for your warning today. You did, indeed, save my life, and I want you to know that I appreciate it. I had no idea such a selfless act would bring you so much criticism."

"It seems you also make a practice of lurking in the shadows and eavesdropping on personal conversations," Frederick said haughtily.

"I wasn't lurking, and the term "conversations" implies that two people are talking to one another. From what I heard, you were doing all the talking."

Kane ignored the sharp intake of Frederick's breath as he walked up to the foot of the staircase. He extended the flowers toward Abby.

Frederick stepped between them, effectively putting Abby behind him. "She doesn't want your flowers."

"Really? I don't hear her saying anything. But then, you won't shut up long enough to give her a chance."

Frederick heard the edge in Kane's voice as he glared up at Kane in the dusk. It registered immediately but Frederick swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. He glanced down at the gun on Kane's hip, then at the marshal's badge on his chest, and finally at the man's face.

At six feet three, Kane was easily four inches taller than him and at least twenty pounds heavier. Frederick knew instinctively the extra weight was all muscle. He also knew his belligerence that worked so effectively with the bank employees made no impression on this man. If anything, Kane was laughing at him.

"I am Miss Prescott's beau. I speak for her. And I'll thank you to keep your distance. You've caused her quite enough distress for one day."

"I am truly sorry for that, Miss Prescott," Kane said to Abby, ignoring both Frederick and his statement. "I would have preferred things to have been done differently. A lady should never be subjected to that kind of thing. Please accept my apology."

"It's all right, Mr. Darcy," Abby murmured. She stepped from behind Frederick so she could see Kane clearly in the moonlight. He had obviously bathed, shaved, and changed clothes since the afternoon's events. The subtle scent of shaving soap reached her senses as she stared up at him. Betsy's right; he is stunning. And he smells so good.

She glanced at Frederick, wondering why she'd never noticed his cologne as clearly as she now noticed the scent of simple soap and water.

"No, Abby, it's not all right," Frederick was saying in that haughty tone that made her teeth grind. "How much plainer do I have to make it, Marshal? You're not welcome here."

Kane directed a steady gaze at the young man while he took a tighter grip on the anger beginning to course through his veins. "That's not for you to say."

Frederick made the mistake of reaching out and catching Kane's arm. Kane reacted instinctively. He turned so quickly Frederick didn't have time to realize it. A moment later he had the lapels of Frederick's expensive coat in one hand. The pressure behind the closed fist in his chest made Frederick's eyes widen with the effort to get his breath.

"When I want to hear from you, I'll tug on your rope," Kane said through clenched teeth. "Until then, keep your mouth shut until I conclude my business with the lady."

He let go of Frederick then, and turned back to Abby with no more thought to the younger man's coughing and wheezing as he rubbed his chest and struggled to find his breath.

"Miss Prescott, I hope you'll accept these flowers as a gesture of my gratitude," he said to Abby in a tone completely devoid of the fury she'd heard in him moments earlier.

She stared up at him in mute fascination, wondering how he could change moods so quickly. As angry as he'd been with Frederick, she somehow knew that he would never use that tone with her.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy," she said softly, looking down to avoid his gaze. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept them."

"I see." Kane let out a long breath, then stepped back. "All right, Miss Prescott, I understand. I'm sorry I bothered you. Have a nice evening."

Before she could respond, he had disappeared into the darkness beyond the side of the building. While Frederick blustered and fussed with his mussed clothing, she began to tremble. Rubbing her sweaty palms against her skirt, she stared after Kane into the darkness.

No, Mr. Darcy, you don't understand. Not at all.

CHAPTER FIVE

The red-haired woman smoothed her chignon and checked the feathers again as she passed the mirror on her way to the door. She opened the door, then turned back to blow Kane a kiss.

"I had a really good time. Let me know when you get lonely again, marshal," she said in a sultry voice. "Oh, and thanks for the flowers."

She smiled as she glanced down at the slightly wilted bouquet she was holding.

"You're welcome, Sally. I'll be talking to you."

The woman smiled and closed the door. Behind her, Kane kicked the sheet off and sat up on the edge of the bed. He ran both hands through his hair, then sat for a moment with his face in his hands. With a sigh, he got to his feet and walked naked to the window.

Pulling back the curtain, he looked down on the quiet street. It was long past midnight. The saloon was closed, most all the lights were out in Cimarron as he stood staring out into the darkness. Then he saw the light in the upstairs corner room of the Prescott place.

A shadow moved restlessly back and forth behind the curtain. A thoughtful expression came to his features as he realized that Miss Abigail Prescott was having a tough time sleeping tonight.

He watched her pace for another minute, then began pulling on his clothes. In short order he was dressed and heading out of his room. He took the back stairs from the hotel, moving quickly and silently through the darkness until he came to the corner of the courthouse, opposite the Prescott general store.

He leaned against one of the supporting columns, took a thin cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it. As he exhaled an aromatic plume of smoke, he glanced up and down the empty street again before settling his gaze on Abby's window.

Her shadow was no longer visible. Thinking that she had gone to bed, he flicked away the cigar ash, deciding what he was going to do with the rest of the night, when he saw her ease down the outside staircase.

She had not taken time to dress, but was wearing a summer wrapper over her nightgown as she silently tiptoed down the stairs to the street. He stood perfectly still as she looked up and down the street, then began walking leisurely away from her home.

What the devil is she up to?

Even as he followed her, he wondered why he was doing it. He figured she was probably stealing away to meet that snot-nosed beau of hers. If she was, it was none of his business, even if the young banker deserved a good ass-kicking. He had just about talked himself out of following her, when the sound of distant gunfire broke the quiet.

It was a good two miles away, but it reminded him of the danger a young girl could get into on her own in the middle of the night. He had no choice now but see where she was going, and make sure she got home safely.

Abby led him through the edge of town to the cemetery on the outskirts. It was peaceful as she pushed open the squeaking metal gates and slipped inside. A big full moon filtered through the oak trees that populated the cemetery, making it easy to find her way among the markers. The only sound that broke the silence was the crickets in the grass and the distant croaking of frogs in a stream a few hundred yards away.

She paused then and knelt down to lay a rose from her mother's garden on a grave. When she rose to her feet, she stood silently for a moment, lost in thought.

Kane watched her, mystified by her actions, and impressed by her ethereal beauty. Her golden hair was nearly waist long, shimmering in the moonlight like a cape of moon beams. She was totally unaware that he had followed her, or that he was close enough now to almost touch.

He saw her brush tears off her cheeks as she turned to leave. He quickly ducked behind a large oak and she walked past him, looking very young and virtuous. He wondered why that suddenly appealed to him. It never had before.

Keeping his distance on the way back home, he never let her out of his sight. He wished there had been time to take a look at the grave she had gone to visit, but he didn't dare lose sight of her. Quiet still pervaded the night, but with the less than honorable element in town, he knew that could all change in a moment's notice.

Hell, he thought with a grin as he followed her back toward home, things being what they are, she's no safer with me than with the riff-raff in town. Not much anyway.

Damn, I've got to find some way to keep her from taking these little midnight strolls, unless I want to follow her around in the dark every night. Can't have her doing this by herself, it isn't safe. Can't be following her either, what with the way the moon makes her hair gleam. Jesus, couldn't she at least get dressed before she does something this stupid? Ought to be a law against a girl that pretty, wearing so little, wandering around all by herself…

Then he reminded himself that he was the law. The thought almost made him laugh out loud. Pinning this badge on me is like putting the fox in the chicken coop to guard the chickens.

He stayed in the shadows as Abby reached the bottom of the staircase. She quickly looked around, then dashed up them and eased back into the house. A few moments later the lamp went out and her room went dark.

Kane lingered outside for a while, pausing to re-light his cigar which had long since gone out. He leaned against the adjoining building, smoking silently and thinking about Abby Prescott.

Young, too damned young. I'm old enough to be her…older brother. Probably never been kissed, except maybe by that snotty boy-banker. For damned sure, she's never been around anybody like me.

He shook his head, surprised at where his thoughts were leading. Naw, forget it, Kane. Remember what the judge said. No funny business with Cimarron's nice girls. He moved into the street then, in the direction of the hotel, fearing that sleep would be impossible after seeing Miss Abigail Prescott's slender, fragile beauty on her midnight stroll.

CHAPTER SIX

The following morning Kane leaned against the porch support of the sheriff's office, smoking, as he watched the citizens of Cimarron gather for church. He suspected those Sunday mornings had until recently been a time of neighborly conversation as the people leisurely walked down the street toward the white clapboard church at the edge of town.

No one was walking leisurely this morning. Families stuck close together as they moved briskly down the street. No one took time to chat, but made their way quickly to the church. From the boardwalks, hung-over ruffians lounged, eyeing the populace, making obnoxious cat-calls at the women, and generally being a nuisance.

Judge Connors came from his breakfast at the hotel restaurant across the street to join Kane on the porch. He wiped at his brow with a large white handkerchief as he squinted up at the blazing sun. "Going to be another scorcher."

Kane grunted in agreement but his attention was on the Prescott family as they came down their back stairs and entered the street. Josiah Prescott looked as formidable in his Sunday best as Kane figured he would. Black suit, starched white shirt, gleaming black boots, and a scowl that would put any sinner scurrying for cover.

Mrs. Prescott was a more mature version of her daughter. Tall, thin, with hair only slighter darker than Abby's, Deirdre Prescott was an attractive woman, but she looked nervous. Her gaze bounced from one person to the next, like a deer watching for a hunter. The brief stare she shot him was amusing.

She obviously wanted to see what all the fuss was about, Kane thought as her gaze swept over him quickly before she lifted her chin and stared straight ahead. Wouldn't do for upright Mr. Prescott to catch you looking at me, now would it, Mrs. Prescott?

The grin that had begun at Mrs. Prescott's furtive inspection vanished immediately when Josiah abruptly changed direction and propelled his startled family toward the porch where Kane and the judge stood.

"Uh-oh," Judge Connors muttered. "Here comes trouble."

"Morning, Mrs. Prescott, Abigail. Morning, Josiah," he said with a stiff smile as the trio halted in front of the porch.

"I don't have time for platitudes, Amos," Josiah said with a meaningful glance at Kane. "I just want to make my objections to your handling of this situation perfectly clear."

"Again?"

Josiah ignored the sarcasm in Judge Connors' reply. Instead, he looked directly at Kane as he moved a step away from his wife and daughter. His eyes were narrowed with contempt as he jabbed a finger in Kane's chest.

"That badge don't fool nobody, Darcy. You're not one hair better than the rest of this gang of hooligans the judge brought you here to get rid of. Just luckier. For some strange reason, Judge Connors thinks he can redeem your worthless hide.

"But I'm telling you, I know your kind and I'll be watching you. You make one wrong move and I'll go over the judge's head to the governor. You cross me, young man, and I'll personally make sure that you serve the rest of that prison sentence."

Kane heard Abby's soft gasp. Until this moment, she obviously didn't know that bit of information. He suspected her father relished breaking the news. He glanced at her to find her brilliant blue-eyed gaze was locked with his. She looked surprised, embarrassed, and a bit disappointed. Then she quickly averted her gaze.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Mr. Prescott," he drawled, returning his attention to her father. "I'll do my best to live up to it."

"Josiah, this is not the time…" Judge Connors began but Josiah cut him off.

"You're not fooling me, young man. You're no damned good. I told Judge Connors he was making a big mistake by bringing you here. I told him it would be nothing but more trouble. The very idea! Bringing in a hired killer!"

"What makes you think I'm getting paid to kill? Maybe I'm doing it for nothing. Maybe I like it."

The sarcasm in Kane's voice made Mrs. Prescott gasp. It made Abby want to giggle. She glanced up at him, both admiring the way he turned her father's wrath into the comical nonsense it was, and the sparkle in his eyes as he did it. He knows Papa is being a pompous ass and he isn't afraid to let him know it. Bravo, Mr. Darcy!

"You've got some nerve, young man!"

"So I've been told."

Josiah followed Kane's glance toward Abby and was enraged. He jabbed his finger at the badge on Kane's chest, his face flooding with anger. "And you stay away from my daughter! I forbid you to speak to her! Do you understand?"

Kane straightened up and moved back a step. Rubbing the badge with the heel of one hand, he smiled at Josiah, showing a mouthful of white teeth. "Easy, Mr. Prescott, you're denting my badge."

Josiah spluttered for a moment, then spun about on his heel and began hurrying away with his wife and Abby in tow. As she turned at the insistence of her father's hand on her arm, Abby caught Kane's parting wink. She blushed and looked away but not before the smile she was trying to erase broke free for just an instant. She would have looked back over her shoulder at him as her father hustled her down the street, but she didn't dare.

Jeez, he's not only magnificent looking, but he put Papa in his place. I admire that, Mr. Darcy. Good for you! she thought as Josiah hurried them up the church steps.

***

"You took that awfully well."

Kane glanced at the judge. He stuck the thin cigar between his teeth and grinned around it. "What's that?"

"Josiah Prescott's none too subtle insults. I would have expected a different reaction."

Kane shrugged while he watched the Prescott family climb the church steps. "I've been around people like him all my life, Your Honor. Trading insults is a waste of time. He's formed an opinion of me, and nothing I say or do is likely to change it, so why bother?"

Judge Connors studied his young marshal thoughtfully for a moment. "The opinion he's formed is of your reputation, Kane. Not you. He doesn't know a blessed thing about you."

"Same thing, Your Honor."

Amos decided not to voice his thoughts on that subject. He wiped at his sweaty brow as he stared up at Kane, who was once more leaning one shoulder against the porch column. "So you decided to use humor as a weapon instead of your fists."

Kane flashed him a grin. "I wasn't much of a fighter when I was a kid. I learned real quick that the best way to avoid getting the crap beat out of me was to not get mad and start throwing punches."

"And how old were you when you made this startling revelation?"

"About six. When you grow up in a whorehouse, you either learn to fight, or to avoid fights. I've been insulted by far better than Mr. Prescott. He's a rank amateur compared to some of the stuff I've had thrown at me."

Amos' bushy brows arched in surprise. Not at the information Kane had just revealed, but at the nonchalant way he said it. Amos wondered just how casual he really was. He had no trouble picturing a six year old boy with a mop of black hair and eyes almost as dark being tormented by other children who were lucky enough to have been born into a better station in life.

"You seem to have risen above it all right," he said after a moment. "Or are the scars just buried too deep to be seen at first glance?"

Kane exhaled and flicked the cigar ash into the street, then flashed another of those disarming smiles. "Everybody has scars, Your Honor. Some just take longer to heal than others, that's all. It'll take somebody a lot sharper than Josiah Prescott to keep me awake nights worrying about they think of me."

"Somebody like Abigail Prescott?"

"Now why would pretty little Abigail Prescott keep me awake at night?"

"If I know you, Kane, you're already lying awake at night trying to figure a way into her underwear."

"Why, Your Honor, I'm surprised at you," Kane drawled with a grin. "As I recall, you told me in no uncertain terms what would happen if I tried to impress Abigail Prescott with my manly attributes. Surely you don't think I'd ever deliberately ignore your wishes, now do you?"

Amos snorted as he stuffed the handkerchief into a vest pocket. He straightened his coat as he pinned a meaningful glare on Kane. "Not if you want to stay out jail. Now, I've got work to do. See what you can do about maintaining law and order, will you?"

"I'll do my best, Your Honor," Kane replied, grinning at the scowl on the judge's face. "In fact, I think I'll go and arrest somebody. The paperwork alone ought to keep you busy for a week."

"If you think a mountain of paperwork is going to prevent me from keeping an eye on you, you're wrong. I can do both, Marshal. Been doing it now for thirty years."

"Then you must be pretty damned cross-eyed by now," Kane said, chuckling as he moved off the porch.

Behind him, Amos Connors almost chuckled aloud as well, but caught himself in time. Watching the broad shouldered young man walking away from him across the street, he shook his head. Who've had thought that his plan to make Kane Darcy a marshal would be so much fun? Amos hadn't had this much fun in years.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Abby walked up the street beside Betsy after church, a few paces behind their parents. Carrying a Bible and a hymn book clutched to their chests as they walked up the dusty street, they looked very angelic.

"There he is," Betsy whispered, leaning her head closer so that only Abby could hear her. "Over there, in front of the saloon."

Abby turned her head slightly to bring the object of Betsy's interest into focus. In spite of her father's fury and Frederick's reproach, she felt heat rush into her face at the sight of Kane Darcy walking leisurely along the boardwalk abreast of them.

"I see him."

"Well, do something! He's looking at you."

"What do you want me to? Whistle?"

Betsy sighed. "Smile, wave, something."

"I can't, Betsy, and you know it. Is he still looking?"

"He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he saw us. Oh my, Abby, have you noticed what that shade of green does for his coloring? He's absolutely…."

"Dangerous," Abby said as she risked another glance at Kane. "Very dangerous."

"Yes, but that's part of the excitement. Anybody can be dull and boring."

"Like Frederick?"

"You said that, Abby, not me. No, it's more than that. Frederick is okay for a boy, but Kane Darcy is a real man. Oh my, I've never seen a man like him before, and neither have you."

"I'll admit that," Abby said reluctantly. "But I've gotten into enough trouble because of him. I'm not allowed to leave the house for a week."

"Admiring a really handsome man isn't a sin, Abby. If it was, I'd have dropped dead about a hundred yards ago."

"I don't think my father would agree with you. He thinks Mr. Darcy is the devil incarnate. He's forbidden me to even speak to him. And he had the nerve to say the same thing to Mr. Darcy before church. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to crawl under the porch."

"Talking to him isn't a sin either," Betsy said stoutly, then quickly lowered her voice when Mr. Prescott looked over his shoulder at them.

"You seem to forget Frederick."

"Oh, pooh on Frederick! You're not engaged to him. You're a free woman, Abby. There's nothing to keep you from talking to Mr. Darcy."

"Nothing but my father's everlasting wrath. Besides, he's been in prison. Who knows what he did to get sent there?"

"That only adds to his mystique. I bet it was some lover's quarrel. Something really romantic."

Abby bit her lip to keep from giggling aloud. "It was more likely a poker game or something equally as scandalous. You've been reading too much poetry, Betsy."

"Mr. Darcy's past sins are none of our business."

"That's right. Mr. Darcy is none of our business. The further he stays away from both of us, the better. I, for one, don't need his kind of trouble."

Betsy looked at her incredulously as they picked up their pace a bit. They were lagging behind Abby's parents now a good twenty feet. "I think his kind of trouble is just what you need. You might never know what hit you, but you'd sure know you'd been hit."

"Betsy Brennan, you're impossible!"

Abby was well aware that Kane had halted on the boardwalk as they passed. She was mortified when Betsy actually lifted a hand and waved at him.

One of the drifters on the boardwalk mistook the gesture as being meant for him. His unshaven face broke into a wide grin at the girls. "Hey there, little ladies! Let me buy you a drink!"

A second later he was on his back on the boardwalk, gasping for breath. Kane's well placed elbow in his solar plexus took him by surprise and knocked the breath out of him.

"If you ever speak to either of those young women like that again, I'll break every rib you've got," Kane said softly as he reached down and pulled the man to his feet. He brushed the man off, then put a hand in his back and pushed the man in the opposite direction.

From the street, it looked like the man had simply fallen down. Neither Abby nor Betsy had any idea that Kane had stopped his obnoxious greeting, but the diversion caused Josiah Prescott to halt and wait for the girls to catch up. He caught Abby's arm and propelled her up the street, glaring at Kane over his shoulder.

Kane watched them until they reached the Prescott place before he moved on. As he walked down the boardwalk toward the saloon's inviting bat-wing doors, he let out a long breath. Now, just what the hell did you do that for, he asked himself. All he did was mistake that little filly's wave. You probably broke at least one rib for him. And you know damned well he wasn't thinking anything you weren't.

He shoved the swinging doors open and headed straight for the bar. Sally, the red-headed woman from the previous evening sacheted up to him with an inviting smile. She poured herself a drink from his bottle and sipped it with sultry invitation, making it obvious that she was available. Even as Kane took her arm and headed for the staircase, he was thinking about a golden haired, blue-eyed angel carrying a Bible and a hymnal.

***

Kane was so absorbed in the red-haired prostitute's charms that he didn't hear the first gunshot. By the time he heard the second, his body was too far gone to pay any attention. As he recovered from the volcano exploding inside him, a third shot broke the Sunday afternoon quiet.

"Shit!" he said as he rolled off the woman. He dashed to the window and threw back the curtain, cursing at the bedside table that got in his way and barked his shins.

"What is it, honey?"

"Some stupid cowboy with the world's worst timing."

Kane grabbed his pants, jerked them on, and threw on his shirt. He snatched up his gunbelt from the bed poster, but didn't take time to dig his boots from beneath the bed as he sprinted out the door and into the hallway.

A few seconds later he appeared on the front porch of the saloon just in time to see two desperadoes shooting at each other from opposite sides of the street. One was behind the water trough located in front of the laundry, and the other behind a porch column just a few feet from the saloon's entrance.

Kane watched the activity for a second as the two men emptied their guns at each other without either one scoring a hit. As they paused to reload, Kane walked up behind the one on the saloon porch and cracked him on the head with the barrel of his pistol. Then, limping barefoot across the street, he walked directly toward the other one, who was busily shoving bullets into his gun.

"Shit!" Kane said as his bare feet burned on the scorching hot stones in the street. He reached the second gunman just as the man finished loading his gun. When the man raised it to shoot, with the weapon pointed directly at Kane's chest, Kane grabbed him by the wrist with his free hand, and hit him in the side of the head with his gun.

The man's eyes rolled back in his head, then he slumped over into the water trough head first.

"You going to pull him out of there or let him drown?"

Kane looked up as he dropped his gun back into the holster to see Judge Connors leaning against the laundry's front door, lighting a cigar.

"He can drown for all I care, the stupid son-of-a-bitch!"

"And cheat me out of getting him in front of my court? Not on your life. Pull him out of there before he blubbers for the third time."

Kane snorted and limped around the end of the trough. He caught the man's collar and yanked his head out of the water. When he let go, the man slid into a gasping, dripping heap at his bare feet.

"Okay, he won't drown. Are you happy now?"

Judge Connors smiled as he nodded. His gaze attached itself to Kane's bare feet, then traveled upward, noting the open shirt hanging loose, the tousled hair and rouge stains across his neck.

"Looks like you were busy when the shooting started. Where are your boots?"

"Under a bed on the second floor. Right where I left them."

Amos grinned at the aggravation that made Kane's eyes gleam. "Well, soon as you get these two locked up, you can go back to what you were doing."

"I plan to," Kane grunted as he lifted the semi-conscious man to his feet by the shirt collar. "Come on you, let this be a lesson to you. Don't start shooting up the town while I'm enjoying a little Sunday recreation. It isn't polite to interrupt a man when he's recreating."

Amos chuckled out loud as Kane hauled the man off to jail. After he crossed the street to recover the second gunman and deposited him in jail, he limped back across the street to the saloon and disappeared inside without even a backward glance.

***

Abby stood at her bedroom window staring down on the flurry of activity on Main Street. Her heart was racing, her palms sweating profusely as she watched Kane stop the shooting and put the troublemakers in jail. She thought her heart would jump out of her chest when she saw him walk across the street directly into the line of fire from that man's gun. When the man had raised his weapon to fire, she thought for sure Kane was going to be killed.

There was no explaining the relief that swept through her when he took the gun away from the man without so much as another shot being fired. Relieved tears stung her eyes momentarily as she let out a huge sigh.

Then watching him walk back across the street, she felt a rush of unfamiliar heat wash over her at the sight of his bare torso glistening in the afternoon sun. Without a hat, his hair was so black, it gleamed as he walked across the street. It was longer than she had thought but somehow that only enhanced his masculinity.

She had never seen a man without a shirt, not even her father. The sight of Kane Darcy's hairy chest beneath the open shirt made her pulse race. Her throat suddenly felt dry and her lips wooden, as she stared at him in open admiration.

"Oh my," she whispered out loud.

She whipped the curtains back into place and leaned against the window frame, amazed to find her palms were sweaty and her knees were weak. "Oh, my, indeed!"

CHAPTER EIGHT

Abby was almost finished sweeping off the front porch of the store the following morning when she glanced up to see Kane walking toward her. She kept her head down, half hoping he would pass right on by, the other half hoping he wouldn't. When she glanced up again, it was obvious that he intended to ignore her father's orders for he was wearing one of those irresistible smiles that made his lips twitch beneath the thick moustache.

"Good morning, Miss Prescott. You're looking very fetching this morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy. And thank you."

She tried to keep her head down but the unexpected compliment was impossible to disregard. When she raised her head, she discovered that he was standing right in front of her, his weight on one leg, his thumbs hooked in his gunbelt, his hat pushed back revealing the most intriguing pair of eyes she'd ever seen. They were almost as dark as his hair, sparkling with humor, and framed by lashes any woman would envy.

His expression was friendly, his stance non-threatening. She didn't see anything about him that was in the least frightening. What she did see was a very handsome man, clean shaven except for the moustache, well dressed in a manner that accented his broad shoulders and powerful physique. He was wearing a red shirt beneath the black vest, tucked into dark, well fitting trousers. The color emphasized his dark coloring, making his teeth a flash of white when he smiled.

"Would you take off your hat please?"

Kane stared at her for a moment, then removed the Stetson.

"Where are they, Mr. Darcy?"

"Excuse me?"

"The horns. My father seems to think that you're kin to Satan himself. I wanted to see if you actually have horns."

Kane laughed as he put the hat back on. "Sorry to disappoint your father, Miss Prescott, but I don't have any horns."

Abby's smile was so bright it almost hurt his eyes when she looked up at him. She was at least a foot shorter than he, dressed in a simple gingham dress of a blue and white checkered pattern. Her long golden hair was pinned up on top of her head in a causal chignon that simultaneously accented both her innocence and her maturity. It was a heady combination.

"I'm glad to hear that. I'd really hate to think that I've been banished to my room for a week for warning a man who turned out to be a demon."

"Miss Prescott, I fear your father's demons are of the imaginary kind. But I am truly sorry that you're being punished for your kindness."

Abby glanced around toward the store's entrance. Then turning back to Kane, she smiled again, this time a bit ruefully. "It's all right, Mr. Darcy. I am truly glad that I was able to help. In spite of what my father thinks, I'm very grateful that you're here."

"Really?"

Her head bobbed in a confident nod. "Yes. I've lived in Cimarron all my life but the past few weeks I've been uncomfortable leaving my own home. I think Judge Connors made the right decision by asking you to come here and rid us of the troublemakers."

"Miss Prescott, I'm happy to be of service."

"But it's a dangerous job. You will be careful, won't you?"

Kane grinned as he adjusted his hat. "I surely will, Miss Prescott. Good day."

"Good day, Mr. Darcy."

It was a struggle to keep from watching him walk away. She began sweeping furiously until she heard his footsteps recede down the boardwalk. Then she leaned on the broom handle and let out a long breath. Good day, Mr. Darcy? It's an absolutely fantastic day.

***

By noon, Abby's perceptions of a wonderful day were diminishing by the moment. After sweeping the porch she spent the remainder of the morning helping out in the store. The main topic of conversation was Marshal Kane Darcy and his blemished past, or at least what people knew about it. The rest they were only too happy to make up.

"I heard he was in prison for murder," she heard Mrs. Grossett say to her neighbor Mrs. King across the fabric table.

"I heard that he killed a half dozen people," Mrs. King agreed with a somber nod.

"I heard that he was supposed to hang but Judge Connors took pity on him because of his terrible upbringing," the first matron went on.

"What about his upbringing?" another lady asked from across the aisle.

"Oh, it was terrible," Mrs. Grossett said as she laid aside the fabric she had been examining. "It's no wonder the poor boy has turned out the way he has. What with his being raised in a brothel."

"You don't say!" Mrs. King said, aghast at this news.

"Oh, yes. His mother was a whore! What can you expect from someone who was raised by a person like that? Why, I suppose it's only by the grace of God that he's no worse than he is."

It took all Abby's will power not to give the trio of ladies a piece of her mind. But one glance at her poor mother's worried face convinced her to keep her thoughts to herself.

"And that way of his with women!" Mrs. Grossett went on. "Why, there hasn't been a woman in that horrid saloon that he hasn't been with since he hit town."

"Isn't that the truth!" Mrs. King agreed. "Why, yesterday when he broke up that shooting, he was half naked! Came out of the saloon half dressed with rouge all over him! And went right back in there for more of the same as soon as he locked up those men."

"Why, it's disgraceful!" the third lady agreed with a sorrowful shake of her head.

And if either of you told the honest truth, you were gaping at him the whole time, wishing he had left the rest of his clothes inside the saloon, Abby thought furiously as she dusted a display of canned goods.

The idea that he had been with a woman when duty called was no surprise to Abby. She had come to that conclusion herself when she saw him from her bedroom window. There were very few reasons a man would emerge from a saloon teeming with prostitutes in the middle of the afternoon, without his boots and his shirt unbuttoned. The conclusion was obvious.

His behavior leaves a great deal to be desired, but somehow I don't think what Mr. Darcy was doing at the saloon is all that much worse than the three of you upstanding ladies gossiping about it.

"Why, there isn't a woman safe in this town!" Mrs. Grossett declared as she put a packet of buttons in her basket. "He's flirted with every female he's encountered! No one is safe!"

"And he's the law!" Mrs. King said. "I declare, I don't know how we're any better off since he came here."

"Well, he has put a stop to those disgusting men hanging around the saloon, leering at everyone who passes."

This was a major concession from Mrs. Grossett, who looked as though the mere thought that Kane Darcy had done something worthwhile pained her.

"Well, yes, that is true," Mrs. King agreed slowly. "I wasn't accosted even once on my way to the store today."

As if anyone would accost you, Mrs. King! You weigh close to three hundred pounds and you smell like a billy goat!

"I admit he's done some good, but I'm afraid to let my Myrtle out of the house," Mrs. Grossett said.

I don't blame you. She'd scare the children! Even the neighborhood dogs howl when they see her!

"Well, I for one, will be glad when he's gone. A man like that can only bring more trouble to our town. I say good riddance to him and those ruffians he's got locked up."

"But what will people have to gossip about when he's gone?"

Abby could not resist the remark as she made a production of straightening the rolls of fabric on the table near the three women. The shocked expressions that the customers directed at her plainly said that they completely missed the barb of sarcasm in her statement.

They quickly finished up their shopping and hurried to the counter to pay for their purchases, then left the store together. After a short pause on the porch outside, they all turned to look at her over their shoulders before hurrying away with their heads together whispering.

One glance at her mother's mortified face told Abby she had gone too far again. It was only a matter of time before her father was informed of her behavior. She sighed, knowing it would probably be time to catch the stage to Aunt Clara's before her father would let her out of her room this time.

Why am I defending him anyway? she asked herself while her mother sadly shook her head. They're probably right about him. He's a rake, for certain, and a criminal too. He's absolutely nothing but trouble. Trouble with a capital T. And I'm not going to get myself in anymore hot water because of him. Even if he is the most superb example of manhood that's ever hit this town. I'm ignoring him from now on. I'm ignoring him completely.

CHAPTER NINE

Abby stared out her bedroom window at the darkened street below. It was well after midnight but sleep had evaded her. Even with all the windows open, there was little breeze to break the stifling heat of the July night. She was sweaty, tired, and thoroughly disgusted as she paced the room one more time.

Dinner had been a nightmare. Being subjected to an hour long lecture by her father had destroyed any appetite she may have had. And having to look at her mother's reproving face didn't help things any. The worst part of the whole evening had been Frederick's silent reproach. He had not uttered one word about the incident with the three gossipy customers, but it was obvious that he agreed wholeheartedly with her parents.

By the time the meal was over, she was sick at her stomach and ready to burst into tears. She was thankful that Frederick took his disapproval home immediately after the table was cleared. She did not have the strength nor the patience to deal with him a moment longer, so she saw him to the door, slammed it shut behind him, and went straight to her room. She had been there sweltering in the heat and humidity ever since. Neither of her parents had even come to her door to bid her goodnight.

Now, she felt as though the walls were closing in around her. Unable to stand it another moment, she slipped into her summer wrap and house shoes. A moment later she was slipping down the exterior staircase to the street.

As she walked briskly through the shadows, she kept a wary eye open for malcontents who might be prowling the streets at this hour, but neither heard, nor saw anyone. She reached the cemetery at the edge of town in only a few minutes.

As she pushed the creaky gate open, she felt a cool breeze filter down from the oaks that encased the cemetery. She was filled almost immediately with an inner peace that more and more, she was only able to find in this place. Probably because all the people here are dead. They can't yell at me or look at me with those sad, disapproving eyes and make me feel like a criminal.

She made her way through the cemetery to the grave beneath the huge oak and knelt down to brush away the leaves.

"Don't you think it would safer to do this in daylight?"

The sound of Kane's voice from the shadows made her jump and let out a gasp. She leaped to her feet. As she whirled around, he moved from the shadows into plain sight in the moonlight.

"Mr. Darcy! My goodness! You startled me!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Following you," Kane replied as he moved around her to get a closer look at the grave marker. Glancing back at her, he found it impossible not to notice how beautiful she was, and how vulnerable.

"Why?"

"This is a wild town, Miss Prescott. Or have you forgotten already?"

His tone was harsher than he intended. He was instantly sorry for the bewilderment that flashed into Abby's face.

Her hair fanned out like a golden cloud when she shook her head in answer to his question. "I haven't forgotten, Mr. Darcy. But I've been coming here for years. I don't intend to let a few low-life drifters stop me now."

"You haven't answered my question, Miss Prescott. Why don't you wait until daylight to make this visit?"

"I can't. Papa forbids it."

Kane's brows rose in surprise. The girl was looking down to avoid his gaze, and fidgeting with her sleeves, but he didn't believe her nervousness was because she was alone with him in a deserted cemetery in the middle of the night.

"Micah Prescott," he read from the stone marker. "Your brother?"

Abby nodded, still staring down at the grave. "Yes. He died three years ago. He was only seven years old."

"What happened to him?"

"A flu epidemic. A lot of people in Cimarron died that winter. Micah, Betsy's sister Beth, and a lot of others, mostly children. Micah's death almost killed my mother, she's never been the same since."

Abby glanced up at him then, wondering what it was about him that made it so easy to talk to him. She had never even talked to Frederick about Micah, it was still too painful. So why could she tell her most personal thoughts to this man she hardly knew?

"I'm sorry. But you haven't explained why your father forbids you to come here."

Kane's tone was more gentle now, his eyes warmer as she stared up at him in the moonlight. Tears burned her eyes, but she wiped one sleeve over her face, and took a deep breath.

"My father says that Micah is dead, and there's no point in dredging it up. He says we have to forget it and go on."

"You don't agree with that?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, I don't. Micah was my brother. I loved him. I will always love him. I don't want to forget him. Is that so hard to understand?"

Kane shook his head as he stared at the tears on her face. He cleared his throat and looked away from her. "No, Miss Prescott, it makes perfect sense to me. When you love someone, they're always with you, even after death, if you remember them."

Abby stared at him, surprised at the depth of his understanding. No one except Betsy had ever understood her feelings about Micah, until now. It was a disturbing thought to know that the only person who understood was a man who was as dangerous as he was handsome.

"You say that like you know from your own experience, Mr. Darcy," she said finally.

"Maybe I do."

They stared at one another silently for a few moments until the half smoked cigar in his hand burned Kane's fingers. He dropped it with a startled gasp, then crushed it out with his boot heel.

"It's late, Miss Prescott. Time you were in bed."

He took her arm and turned her away from the grave, leading her back through the deserted cemetery. When he closed the creaking gate, he took her arm again and walked in silence for a while.

Abby glanced up at him from time to time, appreciating both his blatant masculinity and his kindness. His hand on her arm was strong, yet gentle. She felt very safe, then realized how foolish that would sound to anyone else. She was alone with a man who had just been released from prison for doing only God knew what, in the middle of the night, too far from anyone to expect any assistance if he decided to attack her. Glancing up at him, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that she had never been safer in her life than at this moment.

"I'm sorry that warning me has caused you trouble."

"I'm sorry if I was rude to you when you came to the house the other night," she said, glancing up at him. "The flowers were really very sweet."

"Your boyfriend didn't think so."

"Frederick can be a bit much sometimes. I'm sorry if he offended you."

"Do you make a habit of apologizing for him?"

Abby looked startled at the question, then she dropped her gaze with a slight shrug. "No. Not as a rule. But he was very rude to you."

"Does he always speak for you?"

Abby stared up at him in bewilderment. "I can speak for myself just fine."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Kane said with a grin.

"I doubt that you let many people get away with what Frederick did, grabbing you the way he did."

"I don't."

"Why did you let him get away with it?"

Kane looked down at her, trying to decide just what she was getting at. Her upturned face was framed by the moonlight. Her eyes were bright with curiosity, her lips slightly parted, waiting for an answer.

"You'd already seen me commit one violent act that day, Miss Prescott. I didn't think you needed to see another one."

"If you're not careful, Mr. Darcy, you're going to ruin your bad reputation. All I've heard today from my father, Frederick, and everyone else that came into the store, is what a terrible man you are. My father has forbidden me to speak to you. Frederick thinks I acted foolishly by warning you, and my mother is afraid the neighbors are going to talk. Just what have you done, Mr. Darcy, that's so terrible?"

Kane grinned at her as they came to a halt in the shadows behind the store. He let go of her arm and stepped back. "Miss Prescott, take my advice and don't take anymore midnight walks until things get back to normal around here. I may not always be around to make sure you stay out of trouble."

Abby moved toward the staircase, then paused to throw him a parting glance over her shoulder. "Mr. Darcy, if my parents had any idea that I've been out tonight, or that you escorted me home safely, I'd be locked in my room until I become old and gray."

"Then we won't tell them, will we?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, we won't. Thank you for your concern. Good night."

"Goodnight, Miss Prescott. You're much too pretty to spend all that time locked in your room."

Abby blushed at the compliment but didn't know how to respond to it. She stared at him for a moment, then scampered up the stairs and let herself back into the house. When she was safely back in her room, she peeked out the window, halfway expecting to find him still standing in the shadows. He wasn't.

She threw off the wrapper and went to bed. Lying in the humid darkness, she replayed the encounter with him over in her mind. For a man who was supposed to be as evil as Satan himself, Kane Darcy had conducted himself in a very proper manner. She had felt safer in his company than at any time since all the trouble had come to Cimarron.

So why did remembering that disarming smile of his make her blush in the darkness? Then she remembered her father's angry warning. With a sigh, she turned over in bed and punched her pillow. Kane Darcy was the most exciting man she had ever met and she wasn't allowed to even talk to him publicly. A small still voice in her head told her that was probably for her own good.

CHAPTER TEN

Abby swore under her breath as she struggled with the heavy basket. She switched it from one hand to the other every few minutes but it was still making her hands and her back ache. Not that she minded carrying Mrs. Barnett's eggs and butter to the store, but she was still a block away and the darn thing seemed to be getting heavier with each step.

As she passed the saloon, she kept her head up and her eyes focused straight ahead, pointedly ignoring the leering stares from the unkempt men lounging about on the front porch.

One of the men stepped off the boardwalk, walking toward her. She picked up her pace, switching the basket again.

"Hey, there, little lady, would you like some help?" the man said as he approached.

"No thank you!"

"Looks like that there basket is mighty heavy for a little gal like you."

"She said no."

Abby gave a silent sigh of relief at the sound of Kane's voice as he crossed the street behind her. A moment later, his meaningful glare sent the man scurrying back to the saloon while he took the basket from her at the same time.

"I can manage, Mr. Darcy."

"I'm sure you can." Kane slowed his stride to keep pace with her shorter legs. "But with the audience this morning, I think I'll carry this for you just the same."

She didn’t have the heart to protest, especially when a quick glance over her shoulder revealed the half dozen pairs of eyes watching her every movement.
"Don't those men have anything better to do?" she said irritably.

"Well, Miss Prescott, it's awfully hard for any man with two good eyes not to notice you, especially when you look so pretty this morning."

She blushed at the compliment but said nothing. Her tongue felt thick and her palms had begun to sweat when his hand brushed hers when he took the basket from her. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Darcy, but I don't think my father is going to like it."

"You let me worry about that," Kane replied with a smile.

You're not the one who'll be ordered to stay in the house, she thought, but his easy manner helped push her father's admonitions to the back of her mind.

"You look tired, Mr. Darcy. Long night?"

Kane glanced down at her upturned face with its inquisitive bright eyes. "Yes, ma'am. This job doesn't give a man much time to sleep."

"Trouble?"

His broad shoulders made a brief shrug. "A little. Nothing I can't handle. A couple of fights at the crack of dawn and some fool that decided he was going to take a horse from the livery that didn't belong to him."

"The jail must be getting very full by now."

"No, not really. Judge Connors has pretty well kept pace with my arrests. The first batch is well on their way to greener pastures after their appearance in his court. I don't think they'll be back."

"That's good news. But it doesn't keep more from coming into town. I'm afraid only ending the feud between the ranchers is going to do that."

"They'll get tired of killing each other sooner or later. That kind always do."

"Do you have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, Mr. Darcy?"

"More than my share. But the ranchers are not my problem. The riffraff in town is."

"I'd say you were doing a remarkable job of keeping them in line. Even the old biddies in papa's store have to admit that."

Kane grinned again. He could imagine the talk that had been going on. Some of it he'd heard, the rest was not hard to picture.

"You know, Miss Prescott, after a hard day's work of breaking up fights and catching horse thieves, a good meal would sure be a nice way to end the day, don't you think?"

When Abby looked up at him in surprise, Kane saw that she was baffled by his question. "I mean, the hotel restaurant serves a good steak."

When her expression remained confused, he cleared his throat and tried again. "What I'm trying to say, Miss Prescott, is would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight?"

Abby's chin dropped. Her eyes widened with shock, then a blush began at her neckline and rushed into her face as she stared at him. "I-I-I-" She stopped stammering, took a deep breath and looked up in his dancing eyes again. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Darcy, but I can't."

"I'm not trying to be kind, Miss Prescott, I'm trying to ask you to dinner."

"Thank you, but no. I can't have dinner with you."

"Because your father would have a fit, or because you don't want to?"

Abby's blush deepened and she looked away from his curious gaze. "I-I-I have a beau, Mr. Darcy. Have you forgotten?"

"No, ma’am" Kane answered, shaking his head. "But I'm not asking Frederick to dinner. I'm asking you."

Abby wondered for an instant if he was making fun of her, but the insistent way his eyes had warmed told her that thought was incorrect. Her heart did a funny little leap as she stared at him in astonishment.

"I can't have dinner with you, Mr. Darcy. Goodness, I'm not even supposed to be speaking to you."

"You're making progress, Miss Prescott. Speaking today, having dinner tonight. It's a small leap from one to the other."

"Not to me, Mr. Darcy. Having dinner with you is completely out of the question."

"Why?"

"Well…because my father would lock me in the house for one thing. And…and Frederick would…would…and well…I…it's just out of the question, that's all," she stammered, feeling foolish.

"I'm really sorry to hear that, Miss Prescott. I think we could have a good time together."

Color flooded Abby's features again. "It's your idea of a good time, Mr. Darcy, that makes it impossible," she said with more conviction.

Kane's brows arched and his eyes danced with amusement at her interpretation of his invitation. "Miss Prescott, I'm simply asking you to share a meal with me, not run away with me."

"Mr. Darcy, I may sound very foolish to you, but honestly, I've seen the kind of women you associate with. I doubt that dinner is usually part of the equation."

She was surprised when he grinned.

"Yes, ma'am, I must admit that you're right about that. But I assure you that I can also conduct myself as a gentleman. You're a lady, Miss Prescott. And while I'm not terribly familiar with a lady of your caliber, I believe I can take you to dinner and see you home afterward without making a ass of myself."

Abby fought the urge to smile at the sincere expression on his face. She also fought to urge to accept the invitation. Thankfully, they had reached the front door of the store before she had to respond. She reached for the basket, took it from him, and edged toward the doorway.

"Mr. Darcy, I can't imagine you ever making an ass of yourself. And while I appreciate the gesture, I cannot have dinner with you."

She slipped into the store without giving him the chance to say anything further.

***

"You mind telling me just what the hell that was all about?"

Amos Connors scowled as Kane joined him on the porch outside the courthouse.

"What?"

"You know damned well what! Your little good Samaritan act out there."

"I was helping the lady with her basket," Kane replied innocently.

Amos snorted. "And trying to help yourself to the lady, if I'm any judge. I've warned you about that girl, Kane."

"You know what, Your Honor? You're starting to get on my nerves with your sermons." Kane's voice had lost its teasing quality. His eyes narrowed and the set of his jaw let Amos know right away that he was serious.

"I won't have that girl hurt, Kane. Not by you or anyone like you."

"What the hell makes you think that I'm going to hurt her?"

"I know your history, remember? If memory serves, your only interest in women is to see how fast you can get them between the sheets. Abigail Prescott will not be one of your conquests. Do you understand me?"

Kane stared back into Amos' icy gaze without blinking. His shoulders squared beneath the black vest. "You understand something, Judge. My intentions toward Abigail Prescott are nothing but honorable. And if that surprises you, just imagine how surprised I am."

Amos slowly smiled as he reached into an inner pocket and brought out two cigars. He lit one, handed it to Kane, then lit the second for himself. "Well, I'll be damned! I think you mean it."

"I do mean it. She's a lady, and I'll admit I don't know much about them, but I do know one when I see her. And if it makes you feel any better, I just asked her to have dinner with me and she flat out said no."

"Well, at least she has taste."

Kane's lips twitched beneath the moustache as he drew on the aromatic cigar and then exhaled. "Yeah, well, that remains to be seen. For my part, that smart mouthed boy banker she's seeing don't impress me much."

"I don't suppose he would, him having a steady job and all. But, I'll admit he's a bit of a stuffed shirt. So's his old man, for that matter. But given the pickings around here, he's a good catch."

"Depends on what you're trying to catch," Kane grunted.

A moment later Abby came flying out of the store and ran across the street toward them, her face pale and her eyes wide with fright.

"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy!"

She was gasping for breath and shaking so hard she couldn't get the words out fast enough. Kane caught her by the shoulders to steady her, alarmed to discover that she was trembling.

"What is it?"

Abby half turned to point toward the store. "Papa…there's a man with a gun…he's going to kill papa!"

"Stay here!"

Kane was already off the porch on his way into the street. As he ran, he loosened the safety loop from his gun and drew it as he stepped onto the boardwalk a few feet from the store entrance. Staying close to the wall, he moved silently toward the doorway.

Inside, he could see Mr. Prescott behind the counter, looking very frightened. Across the counter was a man with a gun pointed at him, demanding money from the cash box.

Kane moved very quietly into the store and up behind the robber. The man had no idea Kane was anywhere nearby until he heard the click of Kane's Colt. Then he felt the cold barrel as Kane placed it behind his ear.

"Mr. Prescott, what's it worth to you for me not to let this fella blow your brains out?" he asked, glancing at the store owner before returning his attention to the thief.

"W--what--"

The man with the gun had frozen in place, his eyes bulging at the prospect of having the murderous Colt laying against his head go off. Josiah Prescott's face was white, his brow beaded with sweat as he stared at Kane in shock.

"Is it worth coming down off your high horse for one evening?"

"What the devil do you mean?" Josiah spluttered. He looked from Kane's amused face to the gunman, then back again.

"I asked your daughter to have dinner with me, Mr. Prescott, and she refused. Seems you don't like the idea of her having anything to do with the likes of me. Now, maybe you've got a point. My reputation isn't the best, granted, but I happen to think your daughter is a fine young woman and I'd like to get to know her better. So I'll make you a deal. You invite me to dinner with your family tonight, and I'll take this sorry excuse for a thief over to the jail where he belongs. You can even invite Judge Connors to join us, if you like. It'll all be very proper. What do you say?"

"Invite you to dinner? How dare you! If you think I'm going to be blackmailed by the likes of you, young man----"

Kane shrugged and moved the gun from the man's head far enough to make his point. Josiah's face went blood red, then white at the implications.

"All right, all right!" he conceded when he realized Kane was serious. "You can come to our house for dinner. Just do something!"

Kane grinned as he reached around the thief to take his gun. He shoved the man away from the counter in the direction of the door, realizing for the first time that both Judge Connors and Abby were standing in the doorway, witnessing the entire incident.

He held onto the thief's collar with his free hand as he turned back to look at Josiah over his shoulder. "What time would you like me to arrive, Mr. Prescott?"

Josiah's expression was murderous, but he'd made a deal and if nothing, he was a man of his word. "Seven," he muttered, as his knees went weak with relief that the gunman was on his way to jail. "Dinner's at seven."

"Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Prescott. I won't be late."

He grinned at Judge Connors' astounded expression as he shoved the thief past him onto the boardwalk. "My mama always told me there's more than one way to skin a cat," he said as he moved past the judge.

"I'm looking forward to this evening, Miss Prescott," he said to Abby as he tipped his hat politely to her.

Abby turned to stare at his back as he hustled the would-be thief across the street to the jail. Now that her father was safe, her legs turned to rubber beneath her. She leaned against Judge Connors for a moment, unsure she could stand on her own.

She looked first at her father's infuriated face, then at Judge Connors' amused one. Oh my! Kane Darcy's coming to dinner!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"That was the most flagrant abuse of authority I've ever seen!"

Kane looked up in the mirror as he fussed with his tie and grinned at Amos Connors' disgruntled face behind him in the hotel room.

"Well, Your Honor, you know what I told you about what my mama said about--"

"Yes, I know, your mama liked cats. I cannot believe you used Josiah Prescott's misfortune to pull this off."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"That's what worries me. What other lengths will you go to in order to get what you want?"

Kane ripped the tie from around his neck with an irritated snort and flung it down on the bed. "Damn it! I can't make this damned thing look right!"

Amos walked to the bed and picked up the tie. He stretched to put it around Kane's neck and began tying it properly. "One of the few things you can't do, I guess," he said with a tiny smile. "Now, there, it's tied. Get your coat, Marshal, and let's get this over with. It's almost seven and you surely don't want to be late."

Kane glanced at his reflection in the mirror and ran a hand over his hair. He turned from side to side to make sure he looked perfect. Behind him, Amos shook his head with an inward smile.

"Come on, pretty boy, the Prescott's are waiting. Let's just hope they haven't poisoned the food and get me by mistake."

Kane picked up his coat from the bed and slipped into it. "How do I look?"

"Like a nervous bridegroom."

"Hey, I just want to have dinner with her, not marry her," Kane reminded him as they left the room and moved down the hallway.

"Girls like Abby Prescott take these things very seriously, Kane. If all you're doing to trying to prove you can have any woman you want, I'm calling this whole thing off."

"The hell you are! I could've got myself shot to set this up."

"That would probably be a blessing compared to what awaits us at the Prescott's," Amos pointed out as they entered the hotel lobby and walked toward the front door. "You better behave yourself, young man. Don't make me regret agreeing to this dinner."

"You wouldn't miss this for the world, and you damned well know it," Kane said with a grin while they walked up the street toward the Prescott house.

"You're right. It's almost worth having you misuse your authority to see Josiah eat crow. He looked like he was going to puke when he agreed to your terms. Made my day."

"Now let's make mine, shall we?" Kane asked as they neared the back staircase.

Amos knocked on the door and a moment later Josiah opened it. He was obviously no happier about this dinner now than he was in the store earlier in the day when Kane forced him to agree to it. He was scowling as he stepped aside and invited them in.

"Good evening, Josiah. Good evening, Mrs. Prescott, Abigail," Amos said as they were ushered into the living room down the hall from the door.

"Evening, Amos." Josiah did not speak to Kane but threw him an annoyed glare.

"Good evening, Amos," Deirdre Prescott said nervously. "Hello, Marshal."

"Good evening, Mrs. Prescott, these are for you." Kane handed her a bouquet of summer flowers he’d picked from a neighbor’s yard, flashing her one of those disarming smiles that never failed to impress a lady. "It was very kind of you to invite me to dinner."

Deirdre actually blushed as she took the flowers. "How thoughtful, Mr. Darcy. Thank you. Abby, won't you take their coats?"

Abby didn't move for a long moment. She was frozen in place beside her mother, her gaze locked with Kane's as he shrugged out of his coat. She was speechless as she stared at the picture he presented in a white shirt, tie, and black coat with matching trousers.

Kane was equally impressed. Abby was dressed in a yellow silk dress with pearl buttons down the bodice, and accented by a cameo broach at the throat. Her hair was arranged in a elegant upswept coiffure that must have taken hours to perfect. She had obviously taken great pains preparing for this dinner, which probably accounted for her father's deepening scowl.

"May I take your coat, Mr. Darcy?" she asked him when she found her voice.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Kane handed her his coat and hat, then watched her as she took them, along with Amos', and hung them on a coat tree beside the front door.

"Josiah, perhaps our guests would enjoy a drink before dinner," Deirdre suggested nervously.

"Yes, of course," Josiah muttered, as he glared at Kane. He cleared his throat, trying to salvage his pride, yet knowing that Kane Darcy was enjoying this forced spectacle far too much.

"What would you like? I believe I have some vintage brandy that you might enjoy, Amos. What about you, Mr. Darcy? Or do you drink whatever's available?"

"Actually, Mr. Prescott, a brandy sounds fine," Kane replied with a smile, as he followed Josiah and Amos to a small cabinet beneath an open window.

"I wasn't sure what beverage would appeal to you, Mr. Darcy. But I suppose after a man's been in prison as long as you were, just about anything would do."

"My tastes are quite simple, Mr. Prescott. Although, I've always preferred a good aged bourbon when available."

Amos smiled at the determined effort Kane was making to remain pleasant in the face of Josiah's hostility. He knew it couldn't be easy. It made him wonder why this evening was so damned important to Kane. Why would any man put himself in this position when he could avoid it?

His sharp gaze flashed to Abby as she helped her mother set the food on the table. The demure glances she flashed Kane both amused and disturbed him. Little lady, you don't know what the hell you're doing if you encourage him. You can probably handle Frederick Gaston with no problem, but you've never, in your wildest dreams, dealt with any man like Kane Darcy.

What surprised him more was the way Kane looked at the girl. Knowing Kane's reputation with women as he did, he was amazed to see that Kane was genuinely smitten with her. Who would've thought it? Even if he failed to realize it himself, Kane was more than just physically attracted to Abby. He had to be! Why else would he endure this kind of hostile humiliation to be in her company? Amos almost laughed out loud at the thought. Well, well, maybe there's hope for you after all, my young friend.

"Actually, Josiah, Kane was only in prison for eight months. And while there, he was a model prisoner. He would have been paroled on good behavior in a short time, even if I had not requested his assistance with the trouble here," he said aloud in Kane's defense.

"And just what sent you there in the first place, Mr. Darcy?" Josiah asked with a malicious smirk.

"I shot somebody. In self defense, as a matter of fact. "

"Really? Amos, is it common practice for you to send a man to prison for shooting in self defense?"

Amos was beginning to get annoyed himself at Josiah's deliberate attempt to humiliate Kane. "No, Josiah, not as a rule, but there were extenuating circumstances in this case."

"And what might they be?"

"Kane was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all. He did something foolish, as young men are prone to do, and he paid for it. It's a mistake I'm quite certain he won't make again."

Kane flashed Amos a surprised glance, wondering why the judge was defending him all of a sudden. The disgruntled expression on Josiah's face said that he was asking himself the same question.

"I've never understood, Amos, why you insisted on bringing him here to take this marshal's job. Why him? You have sentenced countless young men to prison for lesser crimes, I'm sure."

Amos nodded as he sipped at the superb brandy. "That's true, Josiah, but after being a federal judge for more than thirty years, I can read a man. I saw a spark of decency in this young man. It simply needed to be explored. I'm happy to say that my instincts about Kane were correct. I believe the way he's thrown himself into this job has vindicated my faith in him."

Again, Kane stared at Amos in amazement.

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it? This job isn't over by a long shot," Josiah replied stiffly.

"This town is a whole lot safer now than it was a week ago," Amos went on. "In another week, it will be safer yet. In a couple of months, this trouble will be behind us and forgotten. And we'll all have Kane to thank for it."

Josiah snorted but made no further comment because his wife announced that dinner was ready and they could take their seats. Josiah took the chair at the head of the table, chagrined when Kane held Mrs. Prescott's chair for her.

Amos stifled a grin at the expression on Josiah's face, as he helped Abby into her chair across the table from Kane. However Josiah had expected Kane to behave, he was not happy at the way things were going so far. Hell, I can hardly believe he's acted like a gentleman this long myself.

Josiah said the blessing in a deep reverent voice that implored God's help on the town and his family. When he said Amen and raised his head, it was obvious the latter part of the prayer was meant for Kane.

"I hope you like fried chicken, Mr. Darcy," Deirdre said as she handed him a platter of crisp, golden chicken.

"I sure do, Mrs. Prescott, and this looks delicious. You set a lovely table, ma'am." He took a piece from the platter and passed it to Amos, seated next to him.

"Mama's chicken has won the blue ribbon at the fair for the past five years in a row, Mr. Darcy," Abby said with a smile across the table. "She's the best cook in Cimarron."

Deirdre blushed like a school girl at her daughter's praise as she passed heaping platters of mashed potatoes, green beans, corn on the cob, and homemade biscuits and gravy. "We've been very fortunate this year, Mr. Darcy. Our garden has done better than usual so we have an abundance of fresh vegetables. Please, have another piece of chicken and some more potatoes. Eat all you want. I'm sure the food in prison wasn't very appetizing."

"No, ma'am. It wasn't, that's a fact. I haven't had food like this since I was a kid. Thank you."

Abby glanced at him, amazed at his lack of embarrassment about having been in prison. It didn't seem to bother him when her father went to such great lengths to bring it up. And it didn't bother him now when her mother mentioned it again. She was beginning to wonder if anything bothered this man.

"Tell us about your family, Mr. Darcy. Where are you from?"

Deirdre refused to look at her husband, knowing his displeasure would spoil the meal. It had been a very long time since they'd had guests, other than Frederick, and she was beginning to enjoy it.

"All over, ma'am. We never stayed in place too long," Kane replied between bites of the delicious food.

"Why was that, Mr. Darcy?" Josiah asked in a benign tone.

"Business opportunities, Mr. Prescott. We went where the business opportunities were best. That meant moving often."

Abby stared at him, wondering if what those gossipy old ladies had said about his mother was true.

"And what kind of business was that?"

"Papa, please. Mr. Darcy did not come here tonight to be cross examined," Abby said before Kane had to answer the question.

"I know exactly what Mr. Darcy came here for tonight, Abigail. And so do you. He's been sniffing around you since the day he rode into town, and God help us all, you've encouraged it."

Josiah threw his napkin down on the table as he shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. Down the table, Deirdre put down her fork with a trembling hand, staring at her husband with a beseeching expression.

"Josiah, please. Let's just have a nice dinner," she said softly.

"You stay out of this, woman! This convict nearly let some cutthroat kill me today. He would have if I hadn't agreed to his terms for this ridiculous dinner. And you spent all afternoon cooking for him! And you," he said, turning his anger to Abby, who sat mortified at his behavior. "You spent two hours fixing your hair and trying on clothes so you could impress him. There's only one reason a woman tries that hard to impress a man like him! That kind of woman has a place in the saloon down the street, but not in my home! No sir! I won't have you preening and fixing and looking up at him the way you've been doing. I won't stand for it!"

"Mr. Prescott, if you want rant at somebody, do at me. I engineered this evening. I asked Abby out and she turned me down flat, just like you wanted. She and Mrs. Prescott have done nothing to deserve your misplaced anger."

Kane's voice was soft as he rose from his chair and laid his napkin on the table. His eyes had narrowed to glittering coals of fire as he met Josiah's rage without blinking.

"If I were a younger man, I'd teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget, young man!"

"If you were a younger man, Mr. Prescott, I'd kick the shit out of you for the way you've humiliated your wife and daughter tonight. But the fact is, that you're not a young man, so there isn't a whole hell of a lot I can about do it, in your home anyway."

He turned to Abby with a deep breath and forced a smile. "I'm truly sorry, Miss Prescott. Mrs. Prescott, this was a lovely meal. Thank you for all the trouble you went to. I appreciate it."

He turned and walked across the room to take his hat and coat from the rack. Amos was right behind him, shaking his head at Josiah's behavior.

He slipped into his coat and reached for the door knob, but Josiah wasn't content to let it go at that. He rushed across the room, caught Kane's arm and jerked him back around.

"You stay away from my daughter, you son-of-a-bitch!" Josiah snarled. "I won't have her contaminated by the likes of you!"

Abby saw the fire in Kane's eyes as he stared down her father. She saw his body tense as his gaze flashed to her father's grasp on his arm. Her breath froze in her throat at his struggle to remain calm. She feared her father had gone too far.

"Take your hand off me, Mr. Prescott. Now, please. Before we both do something we'll be sorry for."

His voice was soft, almost gentle in tone, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

Josiah was too angry to realize how dangerous the situation was. "I know about you, Darcy. I know exactly what business your mama was in. This whole town knows she was a whore."

Kane heard the sharp intake of Abby's breath as she leaped to her feet and rushed into the room. She grabbed her father's arm and tried to pull him away, but Josiah shook her off.

"You don't know shit, Mr. Prescott about me, my mother, or anything else," Kane said through clenched teeth. "Now let go of me."

"Let it go, Josiah," Amos said sternly as he flung open the door, hoping he would be able to get Kane out of there before the situation got completely out of control.

Unfortunately, Josiah's anger had been building for days. It came rushing out of him now in a clenched fist placed squarely in Kane's mouth. Blood spurted from the cut.

Kane heard Abby's cry, heard Deirdre's squeal as she rushed into the room. A moment later, Abby pressed her napkin to his lips to stem the flow of blood from the cut.

"Papa, papa, look what you've done!"

"Well, well, he bleeds real blood," Josiah snarled. "Does that mean that whatever mongrel that sired you was half human, or don't you know?"

Abby fully expected Kane to do something terrible. He didn't. He yanked his arm free, glanced at Abby and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Miss Prescott," he said stiffly, then turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Amos gathered up his own coat and hat. Pausing in the open doorway, he sent Josiah a withering glare. "Josiah, you really are a jackass! He should've knocked the hell out of you. And probably would have if he didn't have so much respect for Abigail. I'm tempted to do it myself. You're an arrogant, pompous ass!"

Turning, without another word, he disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Amos caught up with Kane halfway down the block. He was puffing by the time he was able to catch Kane's arm. When Kane swung around, he quickly let go and showed Kane both upraised hands.

"Easy, boy. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Hell, yes. Why wouldn't I be? That old fart just insulted my mother, called me names no man has ever gotten away with, and to top it off, he busted my lip and ruined this brand new shirt. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Amos choked back the grin that strained his lips. "Not to mention ruining your plans for this evening."

"Yeah, not to mention that."

"Have you had enough yet?"

Kane swung around in the street to stare at him as he pressed Abby's napkin to the still bleeding cut in his lip. "Enough what?"

"Humiliation, insults, orders, take your pick. Still think Abigail is worth all this?"
"So you don't think I'm good enough for her either!"

"I didn't say that, Kane. I'm on your side. But you've got to realize, boy, that Josiah Prescott has plans for that girl. Finishing school back East, then marriage to Frederick Gaston. He's not going to let you interfere with that, except over his dead body."

"Don't tempt me!" Kane growled as they walked down the street toward the saloon.

He shoved the bat-wing doors open and stalked inside. Moving to a corner table, he yanked the chair from beneath the bar patron seated in it. "Get lost!" he said to the man, who went scurrying to the bar.

Amos ordered a bottle of whiskey from a scantily dressed young woman, filled two glasses and passed one