Shotgun Bride by Linda Lael Miller Page A

swift and strong; he was glad he had the coffee dregs to toss into the street, the pot to rinse and fill, because that way he wasn’t left standing with all his emotions right there on the surface for anybody to see. He looked up to John Lewis as an uncomplicated, forthright man and a square dealer, and seeing him down and out was a hard thing.
    Outside, he dumped yesterday’s brew, worked the pump beside the public horse trough, came back in, and set the works on top of the stove. A canister of coffee sat on a shelf nearby, and he measured in a generous portion.
    “You have some business with me, Sister Mandy,” he finally asked, “or did you just come here hoping to send me packing?”
    She huffed out a sigh. “Why do you want to be marshal when you’ve got a perfectly good ranch to tend to?”
    He hid a smile. “Why do you want to pass yourself off as a nun? You aren’t even very good at it. ‘Good evening, God.’ What kind of prayer is that?”
    “I reckon it’s as good as any.” She looked to be teetering on the brink of a first-class, down-home hissy fit, but in the end she brought herself under control with admirable dispatch. “Sometimes,” she said, surprising him, “a body gets herself into something and flat out doesn’t know how to get back out again. Emmeline was bent on having a word with John, but now—”
    He regarded her while he waited for the coffee to come to a boil. “I reckon Emmeline will be along presently, then,” he said. “You could start by telling me what’s on your mind.” He considered her, wondered what it was about her that intrigued him so, and stirred things up inside him. “Wearing a regular dress wouldn’t do any harm, either.”
    She sat down, if grudgingly. “You think it’s that easy?”
    “I don’t think ‘easy’ has much to do with anything in this life. It’s a tough row to hoe, any way you look at it.”
    Another sigh from Mandy. “Maybe so, but it sure would be nice if, once in a while, things didn’t have to be such a bloody struggle.”
    Kade chuckled. The coffee was beginning to bubble a little, which meant there was hope for the day. “Best to keep your knuckles bare and ready.”
    She frowned. “Do you always look on the melancholy side of things?”
    “Yep. I like to know what’s there. Don’t get taken by surprise so often that way.” Kade pushed the brew to the back of the little stove to settle a bit, then rounded up a couple of battered tin mugs. “Have some coffee?”
    She shook her head and stood. “I’d sooner drink watered-down creek mud.” She let out an audible breath. “You aren’t fixing to listen to reason and take that badge off while you still can, are you?”
    “No. When John’s ready to take it back, that’s when I’ll give it up. Might be a while before that happens.”
    She sighed again. “I reckon I’ve done all I can to warn you off, then.” She sounded resigned. “I’d better get on over to the hotel and see if Emmeline needs anything.”
    “Wait a minute,” he said crisply. “You still haven’t told me why you came here in the first place.”
    “No use in it,” she replied with brave dismay. “I can tell you won’t listen any more than Emmeline did.”
    Kade was dealing with her going, and what it made him feel, when she opened the door, let out an exclamation, jumped back, and slammed it again.
    “What?” he asked, pouring his lonely cup of coffee and venturing a tentative sip. The best he could have said about the stuff was that it wasn’t swill, though the distinction was a fine one.
    Mandy’s whole manner had changed; she was grinning, and mischief cavorted in her eyes. “There’s a committee headed straight for us,” she said, wholly delighted by this development.
    Kade frowned, confused. He didn’t reckon he’d been on the job long enough to foul up and bring the town council down on his head, though he wouldn’t be surprised to see a delegation of unhappy ranchers. “A