Chapter Ten

He Never Claimed to be a Gentleman

From his seat at the school house, Woody caught the movement of her hand to her mouth. So she should make me apologize, but she isn't…could be that Miss Cavanaugh enjoyed those kisses as much as I did….He watched her walk down the slight hill heading toward the dance floor. Getting up himself, he picked up the now empty lunch sack and Mason jars and followed her. She may be inexperienced in the fine art of kissing, but from the graceful way her hips swayed in that dress, he doubted she was inexperienced in the fine art of dancing.

And neither was he. His long strides ate up the ground between them and before anyone else could claim a dance with her, he swung her out onto the dance floor. "You didn't think you were going to get away so easily?" he murmured in her ear when she gasped at his contact.

"Most gentlemen generally ask a lady to dance…not run her down on the floor, Marshal."

"And I've told you before…I'm no gentleman…"

God, you can say that again, Jordan thought, getting caught up in his blue eyes as he continued to swing her around in a Texas waltz. But it wasn't long before she realized the Marshal was as good of a dancer as he was a kisser. Not that she had a lot of experience to judge from in that area. Before she had left Tyler for Boston, she was well too young to even think of a beau. And while living with her grandmother in Boston, she was too well chaperoned for any of her suitors to dream of doing anything more than simply holding her hand.

Then after the war…well, after that, she found herself coming home the same way many of the soldiers had. Changed forever. Altered from the young woman she had been. Jordan had seen too much death, too much carnage, too much blood, and too much hurt to ever be that naïve girl again. And her life's purpose had become crystal clear – become a doctor in order to try to end some of the suffering in the world.

In her mind, a husband and a career couldn't exist in the same sentence….much less the same world. She had locked those dreams away, somewhat reluctantly. Occasionally there had been a man that would come through her life that would make her want to take that dream out again and look at it, but never for very long and never very hard.

The last one to do that was a reporter from some San Francisco newspaper – Mr. JD Pollack. But he had only used her to find out information on one of the soldiers she had treated during the war…one that was accused of treason. As soon as Jordan had suspected that, she sent the reporter packing.

She would remain single and celibate…at least from a husband and family. She would be married to her job…her patients would become her family.

And that was what she firmly believed….until this blue-eyed Marshal entered her father's bar and insulted her. Then he turned right around and stole her heart. Made her think twice about that dream. The only problem was, once his assignment was over, Marshal Woody Hoyt would pack up her dream and her heart and ride out of Tyler and into the sunset.

Jordan didn't know if she would ever get her heart back from this man that was proving to be so steadfast in her life – an existence that so often had as many shifting sands as the desert that surrounded Tyler. This man may sometimes look like Lucifer incarnate, especially when he was angry or unshaven, but Jordan knew his heart was as true was hers was breakable.

She just prayed that when it was all over, he wouldn't break hers. Her breath caught at the thought.

"Are you okay, Jordan? You're lookin' at me kind of funny…"

Woody's comment snapped her out of her thoughts. "Yeah….just thinking…"

"About what?"

"That I need to get home soon…." Panic was beginning to set up in the base of her spine and begin its familiar slow, cold crawl up it.

"It's early and the dancing is just starting. Stay for a little while, and then I'll see you home."

Marshal Hoyt was as good as his word. They stayed for a while. Jordan ended up dancing with Nigel and then Bug…followed by Matt Seeley and that new lawyer, Jeffrey…whom she discovered could not dance, but made up for it by telling very funny jokes. She was mildly surprised when she found Woody at her side again claiming the last three dances as his.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked when he led her back out on the dance floor again for a Virginia Reel.

"I…well…"

"You had a better time than you thought you would…"

Jordan nodded and swung away from him and into Nigel's arms. Woody watched her go and turned her attention to Lily, who had taken Jordan's place in his arms. It was few more minutes before he found himself back with Jordan. The next dance was another lively reel, finally followed by the Sweetheart Waltz.

The lilting melody played by the fiddler slowed everyone down. Woody was exquisitely conscious of Jordan's curves as his hand stayed at the small of her back…not pulling her close enough to be scandalous, but keeping her as near to him as he could. He looked down into her brown eyes to see them take on a smoky hue…but there was also a slightly puzzled look. She wasn't used to this kind of attention…

And he wanted to make damn sure she got more. He simply smiled back down into her face…hoping that an easy going manner wouldn't spook her and make her want to run away. When the dance ended, he pulled her to his side and put her hand on his arm. "May I still see you home?" he asked, walking with her away from the other dancers.

Jordan hesitated for a moment. Her father had stopped her before the dancing begun and told her he was heading back out to the claim. And that was good ride. To go there and back…it would be a long way.

"If you don't want me to, I understand…" Woody's hand was already on his Stetson, ready to bow out gracefully.

"It's not that," Jordan said in a rush, the tone of her voice caught somewhere between urgency and the fear that she was expecting too much…and would automatically be let down.

"Then what?"

"It's just that my dad …he's on the claim tonight…and that's a long ride."

"I don't mind." Woody walked her to the coral and Jordan whistled for Camino. When the horse came trotting up, Woody helped her into the saddle and whistled for his own horse, Chevelle. "Which direction?" he asked.

"That way," Jordan said, pointing northwest.

They rode in silence for a while. I can understand why Max doesn't like her riding out this far at night by herself. Even under the best conditions, it's dangerous…if not just a little spooky… Woody thought to himself. And that's tonight under a full moon. But the ride also gave him the opportunity to survey this end of Tyler…see if per chance, as much as he didn't want to think about it, did Max have a spread that could serve as a holding place for gun smuggling?

It didn't look like it. At least at first glance. Small barn…small coral…medium-sized house. From the outside, Woody would guess it held two or three bedrooms, besides the normal living room and kitchen. Maybe even a dining room. Pretty large home for a property claim, Woody thought. But then again, Jordan's mother had died when she was young. Maybe Max and his wife had prepared for a larger family… "Nice place," he commented to Jordan, as he helped her slide down from the side of Camino and stable the horse.

"It is nice…just kind of big for Dad and me…" she replied, keeping up with his stride as he walked her up on the porch.

She's right…and while the barn may not be big enough…who's to say the house isn't? And what better way to keep on eye on the guns than to keep them right under you? Woody thought. Max could have easily hid the guns under the floor boards of the house. But the question was, would Jordan know? And if she did, would she tell? "It's a little far out for you to be riding to every night after work, too," Woody commented, stopping her at the door.

Jordan nodded. "It used to not bother me or Dad…Tyler was such a quiet place….but then all these strangers started showing up….some with bullet holes in their heads…it makes a body uneasy."

"I hope to put yours and everyone else's mind at ease before long…"

Jordan looked up into his blue eyes…searching for a glimpse of something that would let her know about the case. "You know who's been doing the killing?"

Woody shook his head and rubbed his chin with his hand. "I'm not sure…can you shed any light on the subject?" The question was asked easily and quietly.

But Jordan wasn't fooled. She hesitated for just a half a beat longer than Woody was comfortable with. "No…."

He smiled down at her….his dimples catching her breath and making her feel more at ease. "If you hear of anything…or run into anything….will you let me know?"

Jordan nodded again. "Thank you for seeing me home, Marshal."

"My pleasure, Miss Cavanaugh…" He reached for her hand…only to feel her reluctantly give it to him. He raised an eyebrow.

"My hands….are so rough …" she tried to explain…"From washing them so much with lye soap to get the…"

"They're beautiful," Woody said, interrupting her explanation. He brushed his lips over her knuckles. "There's healing in those fingers…I've seen it…" He looked her in the eyes, feeling his heart thump a little harder when hers grew larger. "They're as beautiful as the woman they belong to…" And before he could stop himself, his lips sought hers again…he just had to touch her one more time. He knew what Jordan didn't know…his time here in Tyler could be growing short…and he didn't think he would see her again once he left out on his next assignment.

But this time, it was different. This time, he felt her lips cling to his. And her spine didn't stiffen. She leaned into the kiss. She might be inexperienced, but he'd be damned if she wasn't a fast learner. It wasn't but a moment or two before he reluctantly drew back. "Should I apologize now?" he murmured against her lips.

She shook her head. "Good night, Marshal…" Feeling suddenly shy, Jordan reached behind her for the doorknob.

"Just a minute, Miss Cavanaugh…" Woody stopped her hasty retreat back inside the house. His hand reached out and tangled his fingers in her tousled curls at the back of her head….finding the four o'clocks that Lily had pinned there earlier. Gently he withdrew the spray and tucked it in his front shirt pocket. "Good night…Ma'am." He tipped his hat and turned, walking back out into the darkness. Jordan watched him go…taking a little piece of her heart with him.

Woody grunted as he swung the saddle up on Chevelle's back After kissing Jordan good night last evening and making sure she had gone in the house and locked the door behind her, he had slowly circled Max's claim, trying to gauge what he could under the light of the full moon. The claim was one of the larger ones in Tyler, encompassing several acres. Part of Woody became glad that Jordan had been shipped to her grandmother's in Boston as the young girl grew older. It would have truly been a solitary and possibly dangerous life for a young woman taking care of her father all the way out here by herself.

From what Woody had gathered from talking to Nigel, Max had married into money when he was back East in Massachusetts. And although Emily's parents had not approved of the union between their privileged daughter and her nearly penniless suitor, they had given Emily some kind of dowry, which Max had used to purchase land out West and begin a new life for the new couple.

That new life had come to a screeching halt when Emily died. So it wasn't the fact that Max owned a large claim that began to raise Woody's suspicions. It was the fact that out of all the people in Tyler, Texas, Max owned the only piece of property that could possibly hide a large cache of guns that were to be smuggled across the Mexican border.

This fact, coupled with the additional information Nigel gave him about Carl Jeffers, added to Woody's suspicions. Carl Jeffers had been Max's deputy…and then Malden's. Could it be that all three men were somehow linked up in this operation? Frankly, Woody could see Malden in it. The current sheriff was evasive, sneaky, and a bit of a bully when it came to some of the town's citizens. Including Jordan as well as Lu.

And while Woody didn't like to think the affable barkeep was involved in a smuggling ring, Max's house and claim were the only areas large enough to account for the number of guns the government was tracking being smuggled across into Mexico and into the hands of the Mexican government…the same government who was bound to pick a fight later when Texas wanted to join the union.

Woody had lain in bed last night and thought long and hard about what his next move needed to be. He knew that right now, he couldn't question Max outright, because if the former sheriff was involved in the crime, the inquiries Woody would need to make would raise the man's suspicions and possibly make him and any of the others involved head for the hills.

No, he needed to go about it another way…and as much as he hated to admit it…that way was Jordan.

That was not going to be easy….especially when he awoke this morning to the taste of her kisses still on his mouth and the feel of her hair against his fingers when he pulled the tiny blossoms out of her hair and put them in his shirt pocket. The fragrance from the nearly crushed flowers filled his room last night and made him dream of her…vivid dreams that had only added to his sleepless state….dreams of her in his arms…in the tub at Bug's bath house….the sweet feel of her body against his. Woody shook his head, pulling himself out of his daydream. He had put the four o'clocks in the drawer of his dresser that held his handkerchiefs, allowing them to dry out so he could keep them. When this assignment was over, that may be all he had left to remember Miss Cavanaugh with – a few fragrant, stray, dried buds and some bittersweet memories.

He tightened the cinch on Chevelle's saddle and slowly began to ride towards Garret's office. He imagined she would be there by now….getting ready to begin her duties as nurse and doctor-in-training. He swallowed hard. This could be the most difficult thing he had ever done as far as his duties as Marshal go…