Still too stunned to speak, Ty bent and kissed her cheek, then looked up to see three women standing in the hotel lobby looking at him with disapproving eyes. On impulse, he grabbed Chris about the waist and kissed her quite thoroughly.
When he released her, Chris had to catch a chair back to keep from falling.
“See you in the morning, sweetheart,” Ty said with a wink, replaced his hat and left the hotel.
Chris tried to regain her composure. “Oh, my, but he does get carried away,” she said, smoothing her dress front. “Goodnight,” she said to the women who were watching her with their mouths hanging open.
Chris whistled all the way up the stairs.
Chapter Nine
Asher Prescott was waiting for her outside her room. His face was grim. “I feel I must talk to you.”
“I am rather tired and I…” she began then stopped. When a man got it into his head that a woman needed lecturing, it was just better to let him get it out of his system. Chris had learned years ago that “teaching” a woman seemed to make a man feel much better. “Yes, what is it?” She stood there patiently and waited.
“I don’t think you’re conducting yourself properly and I believe you’re losing your sense of proportion. I know you like to champion the underdog but sometimes the underdog isn’t deserving of a champion. I believe, Chris, you should know something about the man whose cause you are fighting.
“When he was sixteen he was already known as a gunslinger. He killed not one but two men in a street shootout. By the time he was twenty, he had more enemies than most people have in a lifetime. Did you know that for a while he rode with the Chanry Gang? Once, he was caught and sentenced to hang but the gang blew up the jail and got him out. He’s taken on jobs that were suicidal, walking alone into towns against twenty outlaws.”
Asher began to warm to his subject. “And the women, Chris! Hundreds of women! To somebody like him, a woman isn’t someone to love, she’s someone to bed, then leave. You talk of love for this man, well, he doesn’t even know the meaning of the word. He’s a no-good wastrel and he’ll never be anything else.”
Chris didn’t say a word, just stood there and looked at him.
“You’re talking of marrying him but I don’t think you understand what marriage is. It’s the day in day out of living together. This Tynan can be charming when he wants to but tonight he was morose and sullen. He can’t talk, he knows nothing about civilized society, and that woman who everyone says is probably his mother…. Well, Chris, I can’t believe you even agreed to eat at the same table with her. I for one—”
He stopped himself then smiled at her fondly. “You know what I think? I think this Tynan is interesting because he’s a mystery. You solve the mystery and you’ll find he’s just another run-of-the-mill, cheap gunslinger. What you need, Chris,” he said softly, taking a step toward her, “is a husband from your own background. A husband and children.”
She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Someone like you, Mr. Prescott?”
“I find you a very attractive woman, Chris.”
As he leaned forward, his eyelids closing as if to kiss her, Chris opened the bedroom door and slipped inside, closing it firmly behind her. “Kiss that, Mr. Paid-to-Marry-Me Prescott.”
She went to bed thinking of the coming picnic.
The next morning, Tynan was waiting for her in the hotel lobby wearing a clean suit, leaning against a window frame reading a newspaper.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling up at him.
He smiled too when he looked at her, but he looked as if he were smiling through adversity.
Chris pulled on her gloves. “Are you ready to go?”
Ty only nodded, offered his arm to her, and led her out of the hotel onto the street.
There were several other couples also on their way to church and each one of them stopped to stare openly at Tynan and Chris.
In church, Chris pulled Tynan to the third pew, away from the back row where he started to sit. Throughout the service, he was silent, listening to the preacher with attention. During the singing, he seemed familiar with the songs and, as Red had said, he did indeed have an excellent voice.
As they left the church, he seemed relieved that it was over and had gone well. Standing at the door, the minister made an effort to shake his hand and tell him he was welcome.
As they went down the stairs, they saw Red waiting for them in a beautiful big-wheeled carriage, holding the reins to a sleek black gelding.
“I brought you baskets of food for the picnic,” she said. “I didn’t want you to go empty-handed. Here, Ty, help me down.”
“You aren’t going with us?” Chris asked.
“A church picnic ain’t no place for the likes of me. You two go and have a good time. And, Tynan, you start to look happier or I’ll take a switch to you.”
That made Ty laugh as he kissed her cheek. “Maybe I need both of you to protect me.”
Chris slipped her arm in his. “One can handle you. We shall miss you, Red, but we’ll see you tonight. Pray it doesn’t rain.”
“Honey, I ain’t stopped prayin’ since you came to town. Now get out of here.”
Ty lifted Chris into the carriage and soon they were speeding down the dirt road with the other couples. Chris moved close to him on the seat and held his arm. “Who are the Chanrys?”
“Been snooping again?”
“Of course. Who are they?”
“A bunch of two-bit crooks. Most of them are either dead now or locked away.”
“Were you part of them?”
“They wanted me to be. Even told people I was.”
“But I thought they broke you out of jail. Tynan, how many times have you been in jail?”
“Total?” he asked seriously. “Even for being drunk?”
“Never mind, don’t answer. How did your name get linked with those criminals?”
“I told you. They wanted me to join and when I wouldn’t, they got angry. They didn’t break me out of jail, a U.S. marshal did.”
“Explain, please,” she said over the sound of the carriage.
“The Chanrys didn’t like the way I told them I wouldn’t join their gang no matter what they offered me. You see, they needed a fast gun since their best man had been killed. As revenge, they robbed a bank and kept calling one of the men Tynan. The local sheriff came after me. Only problem was that I was laid up with a broken leg, but he didn’t seem to think that was proof that I was innocent. One of the women where I was staying got in touch with a marshal and he came up to investigate. When he couldn’t persuade the sheriff not to hang me, the marshal blew up the jail. The sheriff told everybody it was the Chanrys—proof that he should have hanged me.”
“Tynan, you are full of the most awful stories.”
“When a man lives by the gun, he should expect to be faced with other guns. Here we are. Why don’t you take the baskets over there and I’ll—”
“No, you have to carry the big one and I have to introduce you to everyone.”
“But I already know most of these people. They’re the ones—”
“They are the ones who know nothing about you. Now come along.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning. “You do tie them apron strings to a man, don’t you?”
“Sometimes, apron strings give a man purpose in life. And they’re a lot less violent than guns.”
“Hmph! Strangulation is a slow way to die.”
She ignored his remark as they walked toward the others. The men and women were separating, the women spreading food on bleached and ironed tablecloths, the men walking together toward the river.
Chris set down a basket of food. “I believe you’ve met my fiancé, Mr. Tynan, haven’t you?” she said. “I’d introduce you by name but I’m afraid I’ve been in town so short a time that I haven’t met you all.”
Looking as if they’d just been introduced to a coiled rattlesnake, most of the women nodded tentatively in Tynan’s dire
ction.
“Ty, dear, would you please put the other basket there? Thank you so much.” She gave him a little signal with her eyes, motioning him toward the men.
He removed his hat. “It’s very pleasant to meet you ladies again after all these years.” He picked up a roll from the table, winked at Chris and left.
“Miss Dallas!” the women started as soon as he was out of earshot. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You couldn’t know anything about him or you wouldn’t—”
“You should talk to Betty Mitchell, after what he did to her, and poor Mr. Dickerson—”
“Mitchell?” Chris said, unpacking one of the baskets. “Wasn’t she the girl who was in love with the boy who was killed?”
“Well, she had been,” one woman said. “Thank heaven it was all over when he was killed.”
“Oh, yes,” Chris said. “By then she was visiting Tynan in the saloon and seeking him out wherever she could. Why did she and the Dickerson boy end their involvement?”
The women fell all over themselves answering.
“Betty didn’t exactly pursue Tynan…. Maybe she did go to the saloon but I’m sure he enticed her.”
“Billy started seeing a girl who was visiting from Seattle, but I’m sure it would have blown over if that Tynan hadn’t interfered.”
“Tynan killed Billy, we know that,” one woman insisted.
Chris put an apple pie in place. “Billy Dickerson started seeing another girl. Betty started pursuing Tynan, then Mr. Dickerson went after Betty’s father and—”
“No!” one of the women said, then stopped.
Another woman leaned forward. “Betty was in the family way and Billy wouldn’t marry her.”
“Ah,” Chris said. “So Tynan stepped in to help a young girl get the man who was refusing to marry her. And he killed this young man? Tynan must have loved Betty to do something like that for her.”
The women began shifting the food on the table.
“Betty only loved Billy and after his death she went back east somewhere.”
“But I thought she and Tynan were so in love that he killed a man for her,” Chris asked, wide-eyed.
The women didn’t say anything for a while.
“I do believe my son is pestering your young man,” a woman said, looking toward the river.
Four young boys were encircling Tynan, looking up at him with eager faces.
“He won’t…do anything, will he?” a woman asked hesitantly.
“No,” Chris said with confidence. “He is a very good man. Now, shall we call all our good men to the table?”
The men were more tolerant than the women and they didn’t seem to care one way or another that Tynan had been in and out of jail. They were more interested in corn on the cob and fried chicken.
Rory Sayers tried his best to make Tynan feel out of place.
“Better than prison food, isn’t it, old man?” Rory asked, sitting across from Ty. “But then, over the years you must’ve gotten used to it.”
As Rory reached for a piece of chicken, a woman, the one whose son had been talking to Ty, smacked Rory’s hand sharply with a wooden spoon. Everyone at that end of the table looked up at her as the woman’s face turned red.
“I can’t teach the children not to reach if the adults do,” she said at last, then looked up at Chris who was smiling broadly at her. The woman also smiled. “More beans, Mr. Tynan?” she asked sweetly.
“Why, yes, please,” Tynan said, looking at the woman in surprise.
“Tell us what it’s like to take a man’s life,” Rory said as the woman was heaping beans on Tynan’s plate.
At that moment, one of the other women overturned a cup of coffee into Rory’s lap. As Rory jumped up, one of the men began to laugh.
“Boy, you get married and you’ll learn that women have ways of fightin’ that cause you to lose the war before you even know it’s been declared.”
Another man began to laugh and before long, they’d all joined in. Tynan sat there grinning.
“Sit down, boy,” someone called to Rory. “You’ll dry. Martha, give Sayers some of that cherry cake of yours. That’ll make him forget everything else, even pretty little blondes.”
Chris became very interested in the inside of a pitcher of milk but she could feel her ears growing warm.
An hour later the food was packed away, the younger children were being put to sleep under shade trees, the adults were gathering in groups and the young ones with the energy were laughing and planning ways to be on their own.
“Will you come with us?” a pretty, dark-eyed girl asked Chris. “We’re going canoeing on the river. It’ll be a lot of fun.”
“We’d love to,” she said, holding onto Tynan’s arm.
“They’re kids. I don’t want to—” Tynan began but Chris didn’t look at him.
“They want to talk to us. Don’t you realize we’re almost celebrities to them? You, the notorious gunslinger and me…”
“The lady who gets herself into trouble on purpose.” He held her back as the others got into the three canoes. They were out of sight of the picnic area. Just as Chris was about to step into a canoe, Tynan gave her a little push, causing her to stumble back against him.
“Chris,” he said and there was great concern in his voice. “You’ve hurt your ankle. Is it sprained? Here, don’t walk on it, let me help you.”
Before Chris could say a word, he had her in his arms and was carrying her toward the trees.
“She’ll be all right,” he called over his shoulder to the others. “I’ll take care of her.”
Chris could hear giggling behind her and knew he hadn’t fooled anyone.
“Now that you have me, what do you plan to do with me?” He smiled at her in such a way that Chris said, “You most certainly will not. And if you put me down and so much as one button is unfastened, I’ll never speak to you again.”
“No one has to say a word.”
“Tynan!” she gasped.
“Chris, enough is enough. I don’t mind adults but spending the afternoon with adolescents looking at me as if I might do something deadly at any moment is more than I can take. I thought maybe we’d go in the woods and…”
“And what?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“I don’t know,” he said quite honestly. “What does a couple do if they don’t—” Again, a look from Chris stopped him.
“Talk, get to know each other. You may put me down now.”
Tynan kept walking with her. “Who are the Montgomerys? Your father mentioned them.”
“And what did he say? No, you can tell me the truth.”
He stood her on an overturned log so that her face was about even with his. “Let me see if I get this correct. He said you were related to them and a more headstrong, stubborn, stupidly fearless lot of people had never been born. Does that sound right?”
“Perfect. They’re my mother’s relatives, a very old family that came to America during Henry the Eighth’s reign.”
“Sixteenth century?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling at him and holding out her hand. He took it and Chris began walking along the narrow top of the log. “Tell me more about your meeting with my father. What else did he say? What did they say when they released you from jail?”
“Nothing much. They don’t do much explaining in jail, they just pull your chains and you follow.”
“Whenever I ask you about how you got into prison, whichever time you’ve been in, you were always falsely accused. Have you ever done anything illegal?” She turned on the log and started back in the other direction.
“Why do you have to know a man’s secrets? As a matter of fact I have done my share of outlawing, but I was never caught at it, which is why I keep getting accused when I’m innocent. I guess they figure they can hang me for one crime as well as another.”
“And when did you quit and start earning your way in a proper manner?”
Tynan snorted. “I think Red?
??s been opening her big mouth. I’ve been straight since I was twenty-two.”
“Seven years,” she said.
“Red has been talking. Get down, you’re making me dizzy. I know some things about you, too, Mary Christiana,” he said as he lifted her down from the log.
“Not as much as you think,” she said with eyes twinkling. “It’s not Mary Christiana. At birth, I was given the name of Mary Ellen after my paternal grandmother, but my name was changed when I was six.”
“All right, it’s your turn to tell a story. Sit down here, away from me and don’t come too close.”
Still smiling, and feeling like the most desirable woman in the world, she sat on the grass and leaned against the log. “I have second sight,” she said simply. “I’ve only had two visions but even one was enough to get my name changed. It seems that it’s a tradition with the Montgomerys to name all the women with second sight Christiana.”
“So what happened when you were six?”
“My parents and I were in church and I don’t really remember how I felt beforehand, but one moment I was standing beside my mother and the next I was in the aisle screaming that everybody had to go outside. My mother said the congregation was too stunned to move, but she knew the traditions of her family and knew that every third or so generation a girl was born with second sight. So my mother yelled the single word that was guaranteed to clear the building.”
“Fire,” Ty said.
“Yes, except that after the people ran out of the building in a state of panic, and one of them broke a stained glass window with a chair, they saw that there was no fire. I will always remember the looks on the faces of the people as they advanced on my mother and me. I thought they were going to kill us and I tried to hide in my mother’s skirts.”
She took a breath. “They had just about reached us when the sky opened up and a bolt of lightning hit the church and the back half of it collapsed. When the dust cleared, the people looked at my mother and me as if we were witches. I’ll never forget my mother’s look that day. One of the men said, ‘How did Mary Ellen know?’ My mother put her nose in the air, took my hand and said, ‘My daughter’s name is Christiana.’ And it has been ever since. Of course my father wasn’t exactly delighted since I’d been named after his mother, but Mother promised him more children and he could name them what he wanted.”