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“It helps hide things,” Doyle said carefully. He didn’t want to lie to the kid, but he also didn’t want to keep making mistakes.
Face full of questions, Teddy opened his mouth to ask more when a shadow fell over Doyle from behind. The boy’s eyes lifted as his mouth dropped open wider.
“Well, if ain’t young Theodore Rogers,” a gravelly voice said from over his shoulder.
Doyle turned. The man behind him rose a good half a foot taller than Doyle’s own six feet. Scars and pock marks ran over his face and disappeared into his salt and pepper beard in divots. Ice blue eyes narrowed to little more than slits beneath the brim of a dust-laden ten-gallon hat. The man’s breath reeked of alcohol and stale tobacco, making Doyle fight the urge to gag.
Playing cowboy had been fun up until that moment, coming face-to-face with the real thing. Reality was a harsh mistress, and Doyle suddenly found himself ready to get back aboard the TCR.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Doyle said, extending a hand, which gave him an excuse to back up a bit.
The man glared at him and spit out the corner of his mouth into the dirt. “Name’s Otto Wheeler. Who the hell are you?”
“Doyle. Walter Doyle.” He used his awkwardly proffered hand to adjust his hat, then hook his fingers on his belt.
“I’m lookin’ for my brother. You seen ‘im?” The man’s beady eyes scanned the scrubby landscape, squinting in the bright sun.
“Haven’t had the pleasure.” Doyle forced a smile and reached out to grasp Teddy’s shoulder when the boy stepped up beside him.
“You better go,” Teddy said, unconcerned with Doyle’s trepidation or the intimidating man in front of them. “My ma doesn’t like people poking around our place.”
Otto grunted in response. “Where’s that woman? I mean to ask her about my brother.”
“Behind you,” Teddy said.
Doyle shifted to peer over Otto’s shoulder. Sure enough, Sadie held her shotgun cocked and ready at the back door.
Otto turned and saw her too. He took a few steps toward her but halted when she raised the gun sight to her eye and braced the weapon against her shoulder. She was an excellent shot, Doyle knew from experience, and seeing her there excited him in a way that made his jeans tight. Damn she was hot.
“Go on, take another step and give me an excuse to shoot your miserable ass,” Sadie said. “What are you doin’ here?”
“Calm down, woman. I’m lookin for Eli. I ain’t seen him since early this morning.”
“Well don’t waste your time here then,” Sadie said, never releasing the gun. “I don’t know where he is, nor do I care.”
“You ought to. He told me flat-out he was coming over here this morning to propose.”
The color rushed from Sadie’s face faster than Doyle thought possible, and his own pulse kicked up a few notches as he realized two things. First, Sadie had been lying about her marital status, and second, Doyle’s instant reaction was to protect and claim her as his own.
He must’ve hit his head like Jones when the ship crashed.
