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Kathryn drew in her breath and stared at the awful place around them. There seemed to be nothing but saloons and gambling houses as far as one could see. Noise, dirt, unwashed men, raucously laughing women, great wagons full of rocks, horses and manure, filled the place. There didn't seem to be anything clean or even decent as far as she could see. In front of her was a garish, gaudily painted sign that had a woman's leg wearing a black stocking and a frilly garter. What looked to be a high-heeled bedroom shoe dangled from the toe and the place was called The Lady Slipper. Kathryn didn't have time to look at other signs because she had to step back as a dirty man with graying whiskers made a lunge for her.
"Me first," he said, then when Kathryn sidestepped, he fell into the mud at her feet.
If Kathryn had had so much as two dollars to her name she would have climbed back onto the stagecoach and ridden away, as far from this den of iniquity as possible. Instinctively, she put her arm around Jeremy and drew him closer—as though she could protect him from what she was seeing, hearing, and smelling.
With her arm still around Jeremy, she looked at the stage driver, who was climbing back onto the box.
"Can you take us out of here?" she asked.
"You bet, lady, for fifty bucks each. In cash."
"I dont have—"
He didn't let her finish but just chuckled. "Thought not. Well, there're plenty of ways for a pretty gal like you to earn money in Legend. Giddyup!"
Coughing from the dust of the rapidly departing stage, Kathryn turned back around, the two of them standing alone in the middle of the wide, foul street, three small trunks at their feet. Kathryn didn't have time to think about an alternate plan because a wagon drawn by six horses was coming straight toward them. With one quick gesture she thrust a case at Jeremy, grabbed the other two, and ran for the safety of the boardwalk.
But just as they stepped in front of the saloon, a man came flying through the glass window and hit the boardwalk, then rolled into the street, where two men on horses nearly trampled him. Dropping her cases, Kathryn grabbed Jeremy, his back pressed against her front as she tried to pull both of them into the safety between the door and the window. When a shot rang out, she tightened her grip on Jeremy.
Out of the saloon door came a man, his back to her, but she could see the power of his build: shoulders so thick they curved round to his chest, a taut waist with a decorated knife sheath at his side.
"You ever show up in this town again, Bartlett, and you'll answer to me," the big man said to the one in the dirt.
Then, to Kathryn's horror, she saw that the man in the dirt was about to draw a gun, and from the angle of the porch post, she doubted if the man standing in front of her could see him.
"No!" she shouted, and in the next second, with the speed of a striking snake, the man on the porch drew a knife from a con
cealed pouch down the back of his shirt and threw it. In the next second the man on the ground lay pinned to the dirt, blood pouring from the knife sticking into his shoulder.
Trembling with emotion, Kathryn loosened her grip on Jeremy, and he twisted away from her.
"Don't faint on me now, sweetheart," the man who'd thrown the knife said. He'd turned, and now she looked up into his deep blue eyes. And the feeling that ran through her was nothing that she'd ever experienced before. For a moment, time stood still as her eyes locked with his; it was as though everything else disappeared except this big, handsome blond-haired man.
It seemed natural when his strong arm slipped about her waist and he lifted her off her feet, his one arm holding her as he pressed her body against his, then kissed her.
The only man who'd ever kissed her before was Jeremy's father, and those kisses had been forced upon her. But this man was different, and for the first time in her life, she responded to a man's kiss. Her arms slid about his neck, and she leaned into him as she opened her mouth under his. She could feel her heart pounding and her breasts tingling from the pressure of his hard chest.
The sound of gunfire brought Kathryn to her senses, but when she started to pull away, the man held her firmly so she had to push against his chest to make him release her. All around them was the sound of laughter, unmistakably aimed at the two of them.
Immediately, Kathryn could feel the blood rushing to her face as she glanced up at the man who was staring at her in consternation, as though he were puzzled by something.
Nervously, Kathryn glanced at her son, who was glaring at her—and how could she blame him? She'd just acted—and reacted—completely out of character.
Behind Jeremy was a boy who appeared to be about the same age. They were nearly the same height, but the other boy was large-framed whereas Jeremy was of a wiry build like his father's family. The other boy had sun-streaked blond hair and blue eyes, while Jeremy had dark hair and eyes.
"That your mama?" the boy said into Jeremy's ear, but loud enough that nearly everyone nearby could hear. His implication was unmistakable, that Kathryn was not a woman of high morals.
Jeremy reacted as he had been taught. Pivoting on one foot, he swung around and brought a left uppercut into the boy's chin. And the boy, equally fast and seeming to be equally well trained, hit Jeremy in the eye with a strong right fist.
In the next second, the boys went tumbling into the dirt, while the crowd, already pleased by the show of a brawl, a stabbing, and a passionate kiss, were now further pleased by the sight of two angry boys trying to murder each other.
Kathryn's first reaction was to leap onto the boys and pull them apart, but Jeremy weighed almost as much as she did, and together the boys were considerably larger than she was. Obviously the crowd wasn't going to help, so she looked up at the man she'd kissed. As far as she could tell, he hadn't moved a muscle, but was still standing there staring at her, his big blue eyes wide with an expression she couldn't read.
"Stop them!" she said to him, but he didn't react. "Please stop them," she repeated, then put both her hands on his wide chest.
Immediately, it was as though a current of lightning surged down her arms, and, as though he were a hot griddle, she pulled her hands away.
It seemed that he, too, felt the jolt, because he came out of his trance and turned. For a moment he stood blinking down at the boys as they fought and kicked and held on to one another as they rolled.
