Lauri Robinson by Testing the Lawman's Honor Page B

he’d been young and stupid, thought she should listen to him just because and when she’d scoffed at him, said she was in love with Isaac, Spencer had done the one thing he regretted most in his life. He’d grabbed her and kissed her the way he’d seen men kissing harlots on the street. Her response had been a solid slap to his face.
    Spencer blew out the pent-up air in his lungs. At times he still felt the sting of that slap. But more often, he recalled how her lips had been softer than he’d ever imagined and tasted like sweet, warm honey.
    “What are you thinking?”
    Spencer took off his hat and scratched his head, giving himself a moment before answering Cord.
    Since the man knew him almost as well as he knew himself, Spencer didn’t mince his words. “I’m buying that house. Della and those girls aren’t going to be kicked out of their home.”
    “You already offered Westmeier the money. He refused it,” Cord reminded as they started down the street.
    Spencer’s steps grew more determined, as did his mind. “I’ll up the offer.” He had more than enough money to buy half the homes in El Dorado. The ranch he owned with his brother, the M & M, had flourished in recent years. Unlike most ranchers, they had decided not to crossbreed their longhorns and therefore hadn’t suffered as such. Their line was pure, and that meant every head brought a premium price. He’d been on his way to Texas to drive their original herd of longhorns to Kansas the night Della had slapped him. He’d left the next morning. The same day she’d married Isaac.
    Spencer’s heels hit the dirt harder with each step. The years he spent pushing cows north had made him and Trig wealthy men. And five years ago, when Cord needed a deputy, Spencer, tired of eating dust, agreed to the stint. By then Trig had married Faith and the two of them were busy filling the main house with offspring. Spencer had built himself a cabin, and had the plans drawn up for a big house on the north end of the property, but had never gotten around to it. A single man didn’t need a big house.
    A woman or two had caught his eye over the years, but not one of them had erased Della’s crystal clear green eyes and sunset colored hair from his mind, and therefore he’d settled to be El Dorado’s deputy, and Della Cramer’s friend. If you could call it a friendship. They were more like enemies that ran into each other in public and had to be cordial even though the tension between them was as thick as clay. All in all, it was draining and too complicated to fully understand.
    He shot a glance over his shoulder, back toward Della’s place. He hadn’t liked Isaac Cramer, but he’d never wished the man dead. Matter of fact, there were times when he saw Della struggling to keep up with the boardinghouse that he’d cursed Isaac for not returning to El Dorado.
    A new twisting set about inside him. Spencer recognized it, and tried to squelch it. Which was impossible. Hope was like that. It couldn’t be stopped. Like a sunflower growing where nothing else could, hope had a willpower beyond all else.
    It was wrong, he knew it, yet the glimmer inside him said Della was a widow now, and maybe, just maybe, he could have a second chance.
    He paused at the door of the marshal’s office, waiting for Cord to open it, and once again glanced down the road—to the patch of sunflowers swaying in the wind in front of Della’s porch.
    “You coming?”
    “Yeah,” he answered, following Cord through the door.
    Otis Braun, with solid arms folded across his chest, sat in a side chair along the wall. The one-time slave was a good man, and the best blacksmith El Dorado had ever seen. With a solitary nod in greeting, Otis stood. “Here tell there’s a man claiming to own my Della’s house.”
    “Word travels fast,” Cord said, moving to the desk.
    “Is it true?”
    A zip of fire shot up Spencer’s spine. The whole town would be talking by nightfall. “Yes, Otis, it