Texas Tiger

chapter 9





"It's nothing. I was running late, and Blucher left, and I fell down and got dirty. I'm totally embarrassed, that's all. But I needed to talk to you—" The carriage hit a rut, and Georgina grasped a side handle.

"And I need to talk to you. How did those pictures get in that filthy newsstand? Have you seen them? There hasn't been another photographer in the store but you. Who is this fellow Martin who put them up?"

Georgina brushed a straying lock of hair from her eyes and looked steadily ahead as she answered wryly, "Thank you so much for your concern, Peter. It's good to know I have someone to call on when I'm in distress."

"For pity's sake, Georgina..." Peter glanced at her stubbornly set chin and modified his tone. "I'm sorry. I just had a horrible row with my father, and you know how that affects me. Are you sure you weren't hurt? You look as if you've been wallowing in the mud and got run over by a carriage."

"Thanks." Sadly enough, it wasn't even anger washing through her at this insult, although her tone hinted at sarcasm. She had known Peter since they were children. Not really known, perhaps. They never had the same interests. Boys and girls seldom did. But the town wasn't so large that they hadn't known each other since time immemorial. That made it easier to treat each other like brother and sister. And that was how he was treating her: like his nuisance of a little sister.

Remembering how Daniel's eyes lit like lanterns when she entered a room, how he touched her arm every chance he got, how he had followed her to make certain she was all right even when she had ordered him not to, Georgina sighed. Why couldn't Peter just be a bit more like Mr. Martin? She was quite certain she could fall in love with him if he would.

Peter sent her a bewildered glance. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Why am I always saying the wrong things to you? I don't even know what it is I'm saying wrong. I'm glad you don't have another pitcher of lemonade handy."

"It's not what you say. It's that you don't listen. I was trying to tell you something, and you didn't hear a word I said."

"I just got finished hearing more words than I wanted to hear from my father. I don't need more lectures. You need to learn to judge a man's moods." Peter whipped the carriage horses into a trot.

"It goes both ways, Peter Mulloney. You're not God. I have moods, too. And my mood is anything but pleasant at the moment." This wasn't the attitude she had meant to take, but he had her temper riled. He seemed to do that entirely too often these days. Everything seemed to do that too often. She felt as if she were living on a powder keg about to explode. Maybe she ought to help her mother choose a wedding gown and call this whole newspaper bit off.

"Good, that makes us even. So why don't we both go home and cool off and try this again another day?"

"Fine, but unless you rehire that unfortunate girl you fired today, I'm not likely to cool off anytime soon. I'm the one who told Mr. Martin all about Mulloney's, not that poor clerk. You owe her an apology."

"You what!" Peter screamed so loud that the horses jerked in their traces, disrupting traffic all around them.

"He's a very nice man I met on the train coming home. You can just ask him."

"And you took those photographs for him, making us look like a slave factory?" His voice was ominously quiet now.

"You'll need to ask Mr. Martin about that," Georgina answered smoothly. Daniel deserved a share of this abuse. If he'd just left her alone, she could have been home and cleaned up without involving Peter. Let him make up some of these answers.

"Damn him! He took advantage of you, didn't he? You chattered and he switched all the words around and made us look like fools. And then he probably admired your new hobby and somehow talked you into giving up some of your silly pictures. I'll break every bone in his body. Does your father know you've been seeing this scoundrel? Don't you ever go out with a chaperone?"

"They're good photographs," Georgina murmured as she crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. "And nobody has chaperones anymore."

Peter ignored her. Pulling the horses up the carriage drive in front of the house, he jumped down to let her out. "Where can I find this scoundrel? I've got a thing or two I intend to tell him."

Georgina jerked her hand away as he tried to help her out. Clinging to the carriage, she let herself down. "I'm not telling you anything else unless you promise to hire that girl back. I may not ever speak to you again unless you hire that girl."

Peter glared. "Good. The silence will be a blessing."

"I hate you, Peter Mulloney." Grabbing up her skirt, Georgina fled into the house, leaving Peter to do as he wished. She wasn't about to give up yet. He would rue the day he called her photographs silly and refused to listen to a simple request.

She ran up the stairs and slammed into her bedroom. She jerked on the bellpull until the clamor could be heard throughout the house. Her father wouldn't be home yet. She would clean up and plead her case with him. He might be stubborn upon occasion, but he always gave her anything reasonable she wanted. He would see that Audrey got her job back. He would understand.

Her mother had retreated into oblivion several days before, so Georgina was alone in the parlor when her father arrived. She had gowned herself carefully in his favorite blue and jumped up to greet him with a smile. He frowned and threw the newssheet onto the nearest table.

"I don't know what this world's coming to. Next they'll be telling us who we have to hire and how much we have to pay. It's radicals like that who will be the ruin of this country. Pour me a sip of brandy, Georgie. It's been a long day."

That didn't sound in the least promising, but Georgina hurried to obey.

"I need to talk to you, Papa," she said as she handed him the snifter.

"Of course, sweetheart. Have you seen Peter today? I need to talk with the boy. Something has to be done about these radicals before they attack more businesses."

He wasn't listening. None of them ever listened. Firmly, Georgina attempted to steer him back to the subject. "Peter fired another innocent clerk today, Papa. He blamed her for something that I did. I wish you would talk with him. I'll apologize or do whatever it takes, but he has to hire that girl back. She needs the job."

"That doesn't make any sense, Georgina," he responded absently. "What could you possibly have to do with a clerk? Is dinner almost ready? I have to go out again shortly."

"I'll tell Nancy to start serving immediately. Will you be seeing Peter tonight?" She had to reach him. The lives of that little family depended on her making these men understand. She was feeling a little desperate already.

Her father led her into the dining room. "Did you and Peter have a little dispute? That happens all the time, sweetheart. Don't worry your pretty head about it. I'll tell him you apologize and warn him to bring a big bouquet of flowers tomorrow."

If it would serve her purpose, she would stamp her foot and throw a tantrum right here and now, but Georgina doubted that it would get her anything more than a suggestion that she was doing too much and needed rest. That's what he always told her mother, and her mother seemed to take him literally.

Holding her smile in place, Georgina tried again. "I want you to talk to Peter about hiring that clerk back. If he doesn't, the marriage is off, Papa. I can't marry a man who won't listen."

That finally got his attention. George Hanover groomed his graying side-whiskers with his fingers as he waited for the maid to warn the cook it was time to start serving. "Don't be foolish, Georgina. Of course you'll marry Peter. He's a little young, that's all. Boys that age don't like to listen to anyone but themselves. I'll tell him to come by and you two can kiss and make up."

"He's twenty-five years old, Papa!" she protested, but she could see she was getting nowhere. Ignoring her, George started a diatribe on the subject that was irritating him the most, Daniel's newspaper.

Apparently there hadn't been time for Peter to warn her father Georgina's photographs were in the kiosk downtown. There wouldn't be any reasoning with him once he found that out. Maybe she could talk to Doris at the factory and see if a position could be found for Audrey there.

She wasn't giving up. Peter would have to listen. She would sit on his desk and refuse to move until he rehired Audrey.

She liked that idea. Wasn't there something by Thoreau about passive protest? Maybe she could chain herself to the door or something so Peter couldn't even carry her off. That would grab his attention.

So she smiled and made a pretense of listening and waved her father on his way after dinner, then went to her room to make her plans.

What she didn't count on was the total irrationality of men, even one like her father who had always treated her as if she were made of precious porcelain.

Georgina had already gone to bed by the time her father came home. When he pounded on her door, she rose and quickly pulled on a robe, fearful of what she might find. Her father never came to her room in the dark of night. Something had to be wrong. Perhaps her mother was ill.

But it was her father who looked sick. In the dim light of the hall lamp, his face was a ghastly gray, and his voice wasn't that of the genial man she had known all her life. It held a hint of desperation and anger that she didn't like at all.

"Georgina Meredith, why didn't you tell me that newspaper fellow was making a nuisance of himself? I had to hear Peter tell me that he's tricked you into giving him that incendiary information and those photographs. I couldn't believe my ears! What are you doing near the likes of a man like that? Do you have any idea what you can do to your reputation with such foolishness? If word gets out, we'll be ruined in this town. Ruined! We'll have to put a halt to this immediately."

Georgina rubbed at her eyes and tried to put this tirade into perspective, but sleep clouded her brain. "You've met Mr. Martin, Papa. He has an invitation to dinner at the mayor's Friday. He's a perfectly respectable gentleman. Just because you don't agree with his opinions doesn't mean he's not nice."

"He's trying to ruin the family you're marrying into! Don't tell me that's the work of an honest man. We've decided you've run loose too long, Georgina. I have my hands full at the factory these days, and your mother isn't well. We don't have the time to look after you as we should. We've decided to move up the wedding date. Then you will be Peter's responsibility."

Georgina stared at him in horror. "I will not! I am my own responsibility. In any case, I'm not marrying Peter unless he gives that girl her job back. I can't marry a man who won't listen to reason."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about, Georgina. You are getting entirely out of hand. What Peter does with his employees is his business and not yours. It's your business to look after the house and servants and keep things running smoothly for your husband. You'll have children to look after if you need more to keep you occupied. You'll marry Peter, child, if you know what's good for you."

This was her father talking to her. Georgina couldn't believe he meant it. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she adamantly refused to give in on this topic. "I know what's good for me, and it isn't a man who won't listen to reason. I'll not marry him, Papa."

Her father looked older and grayer than she had ever seen him as he shook his head and started down the hall. "You will, Georgina. I can't afford for you to do otherwise. If you don't, I will have to put you somewhere where you can't hurt anyone else or until you return to your senses."

He entered his chamber and quietly closed the door, leaving Georgina to stare after him with a sense of impending doom. The words had been deceptively calm, but she knew what they meant. She had only been three or four when her mother had gone away and not come back for what had seemed forever. She'd heard the servants whisper about it for years, shaking their heads and looking frightened whenever her mother took to her room. It had taken years for her to find out just exactly where her mother had been all those months, the place her father still occasionally threatened her mother with when he didn't think anyone was listening.

She had no desire at all to be sent off to the Shady Rest Retiring Home for Convalescents.

* * *

"Father, you have yourself upset over nothing," Peter Mulloney argued. "He's just a mud-slinging journalist who will be out of business in a few weeks. People around here are too sensible to listen to his radical preachings."

It was nearly midnight, but the man in the black suit behind the desk had not removed one article of his formal attire and there was not a crease out of place. He puffed furiously on a cigar as he regarded his eldest son, then swept the room with his gaze to make certain the younger boys were listening.

"There are elements in any town that will use any excuse to cause trouble. You heard about the riots in New Jersey. You've seen the trouble the Grange has caused out West. We're going to nip this thing in the bud before he has a chance to cause more harm than he has. All I want you to do is take care of that spoiled brat of yours. I don't want any outcry from her when we do what we have to do."

Peter shifted uneasily in his chair. As the eldest, he had the responsibility to stand up to his father when he was wrong. John and Paul still lived in fear of the old man. Georgina had been wrong to do what she had, but she was young and naive and her mother never had brought her up properly. She would straighten out once she was married. But Peter had a sneaking suspicion that marriage wouldn't come happily if Georgina knew his father was responsible for harming her newspaper friend in any way. He had to persuade the old man to keep things quiet.

"Leave the man alone, Father. The people his article is aimed at can't read. Even if they could, they don't have enough ambition or organization to do anything about it. Those clerks need their jobs and won't jeopardize them. I'll take care of Georgie. But you'll tie my hands if you do anything to that newspaperman. Georgie's very adamant about protecting her friends. She's quite capable of not going through with the wedding if she thinks we had anything to do with harming any friend of hers."

That thought made Peter nervous. She had been rattling on about some clerk in the store he had fired earlier. It might be wise to find out the details. He had known all his life that Georgie would be his wife. Marriage was his ticket to freedom. He didn't want her throwing his ring back at him at this late date.

As if seeing the wheels go around in his son's head, the old man behind the desk chuckled ominously. "You'd better get a tight rein on that one pretty quick, son, before she has you jumping hoops like a trained dog. Just explain to her that her father's business goes down the sewer if she doesn't marry you. That will bring her around."

"Father, that's ridiculous. You can't really pull the rug from under Hanover. He's been your friend for years. He'll come out all right soon enough. He knows the business. I expect to learn a great deal from him before I take over."

The silver-haired man leaned back in his chair and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. "One of these days, boy, you'll learn that money's the only thing that gives you power. Hanover would shoot you in the back in an instant if he could. It's only that loan we hold that keeps him to his promises. Money is power, boys. Keep that in mind."

Artemis Mulloney rose and walked to the door, still tall and straight despite his years. He stopped only to turn with one more reminder, "Get that gal in line, boy, and do it soon. Elope. That's the best thing for her. Bed her and wed her, in that order. She'll come around when she knows who's boss."

Twenty-year-old John giggled as soon as the door closed. "That's one order I wouldn't have any trouble handling. Need any help with the little lady, Pete? I could entertain her when you're otherwise occupied."

"Shut up, John." Peter didn't even bother looking in his youngest brother's direction. There was something distinctly irritating about John's presence tonight. The kid looked more like their mother than their father. He had a woman's weak build and a lanky adolescent gracelessness that he hadn't outgrown. And his sense of humor was definitely misplaced.

Peter would be just as happy trouncing John as the newspaperman.

Why did the image of that stranger at the office this afternoon keep coming back when he thought of John? Obviously, he had too much on his mind.

It was time he paid the journalist a visit.

* * *

Daniel sat on a crate he'd brought to the roof and leaned back against an old chimney. He would have to find the fireplace that went with the chimney if he meant to stay here this winter, but winter was a long way off on a hot day in June. He threw off his shirt and picked up the notebook he used to keep a record of his ideas. He should be out investigating the mill to prepare the next bombshell he had in mind, but intuition told him it wouldn't suit his purposes to leave the premises for too long so soon after the first attack.

Intuition served him well. He heard the sound of the carriage carrying up from the street well before it arrived. It cost a lot of money in horseflesh to get that expensive clip-clop sound followed by silence instead of the unrelenting squeak of a farm wagon. Daniel had already seen Hanover arrive at the factory earlier this morning. This was a different visitor.

He couldn't help a leap in heartbeat at the possibility that Georgina might have decided to arrive in style, but he remained where he was, gazing upon the street below with full knowledge that no one could see him up here. He grimaced as he recognized the driver if not the carriage. He should have known Peter Mulloney would drive a sporty little two-seater chaise.

Daniel made no attempt to go down and meet his guest. He wasn't quite prepared to introduce himself to the brother he had never known and whom he was coming to despise as much as he had resented him earlier. Peter Mulloney was obviously the perfect son his family had wanted. Strong, handsome, he walked with an unblemished stride that Daniel could never hope to match. He probably didn't even need glasses. Daniel adjusted his own and went back to studying his notes. The dinner invitation in his pocket was ample excuse to wait for a meeting.

The deep base howl of a huge dog as his prey came close enough to strike made Daniel look up again, this time with a faint smile. Obviously, Peter had ignored the warning posted on the door. The dog had been an expensive investment, but a great burglar deterrent as well as good company.

Daniel couldn't quite hear the curses he was certain emanated from the office several floors below, but he had a good imagination. The dog was barking in frustration now. Peter must have liberated himself. Daniel counted, knowing to the last digit the number of stairs between the office and the street.

...three, two, one. Daniel glanced over the parapet to see his brother dashing out the door as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Perhaps not quite that bad. To give him credit, Peter looked more furious than scared. His fists were clenched as he glanced up at the building as if he knew Daniel was there. Then he set the chaise off at a lethal rate of speed.

Well, that took care of the first attack on the citadel. Boiling oil might be appropriate for the next. Daniel sat back against the chimney again and pondered the logistics.

When he saw Janice run from the factory, weeping, some time later, he sighed and put his notebook aside. He hoped what he was doing was worth it in the long run, because it was certainly causing a lot of misery for the present.

* * *

Pale-faced and shaken, Georgina arrived in the maze of alleys leading to the Harrison household some time before noon. She hadn't slept much at all, but she had come to no other conclusions than the one she had set earlier.

She would help Audrey get her job back or find her a better one. For herself, she had no such clear goal. There was time yet to decide what to do about Peter and marriage. That was as far as her sleepless night had taken her.

She had held the threat of not marrying Peter over her father's head only for effect. She had never really considered breaking the engagement. She had always known she would be marrying Peter, and she had just hoped for a little time to make him see her as she was. A little romance would have been nice, too, but she had never expected miracles. So her father's threats weren't entirely effective except in their utterance.

Her father had never threatened her before. The world had a whole different aspect to it this morning that she didn't like in the least.

So she disregarded her father and Peter and everything else over which she had no control and went in search of Audrey. The girl had practically been hysterical the day Egan had come for the rent. She would undoubtedly be in a similar state again, and Georgina meant to put her mind to rest. One way or another, Audrey would have a job.

She had dressed more sedately today. She wore one of her oldest walking skirts, a heavy, tan gabardine that dragged the dust but was blessedly full enough to walk full stride. She had left behind the tight, matching jacket, but the chocolate brown polonaise she wore looped over the skirt was sufficient to make her swelter. No parasol came with this outfit, and the inefficient scrap of lace and cloth that passed for a hat did nothing to keep the sun off her face. Scowling, Georgina wished she had just worn her expensive silk that required no underpinnings. It might have shocked the passersby, but it would have been cool.

But her goal had been to be discreet. She was quite certain she hadn't succeeded as she felt the stares of women garbed in full skirts and short-sleeved blouses staring at her over washing lines, but her intentions were in the right place. She couldn't help it if she didn't own a cotton skirt or an apron.

She remembered the house with the geranium on the step quite clearly and heaved a sigh of relief. She was in the right place. It wasn't much farther.

A bit of breeze found its way through the narrow street, stirring a scrap of lace at an open window and sending pieces of paper fluttering down the dusty road. Finding the right house, Georgia removed her sweaty palms from her gloves and knocked on the door. She wanted to look humble, not haughty.

When the door opened to reveal a tiny scrap of a woman with thinning gray hair and black eyes that danced with devilment, Georgina felt more startled than humble. The woman looked her up and down with amusement, as if she had seen plenty of strange things in her life and was prepared to be entertained by this one. Nervously, Georgina began to tug on her gloves again.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I have the wrong house. I'm looking for Audrey Harrison?"

"Inside, miss. She's moping. Company will do her good."

Georgina couldn't place the accent with which these words were uttered, but it reminded her of what Daniel had told her about the people inhabiting these houses. They were almost all immigrants. This woman didn't look foreign. Neither did her daughters or granddaughters or whatever the relationship was. But the women who had stared at her in the street had been foreign-looking, now that she knew to look.

The young girl Georgina remembered from her previous visit was sitting at a rickety kitchen table, sewing at a man's vest. Georgina recognized it as one of the styles her father sold to Mulloney's. Janice must have been able to get her piece work then. She felt somehow deflated by the knowledge that she wasn't the one to help.

"I didn't mean to interrupt. I just came to tell you how sorry I am that I've caused you so much trouble."

The girl at the table looked up without interest. Her eyes were red from weeping, or perhaps just from lack of sleep. Her gaze took in Georgina's expensive clothes and turned back to her work. "You think too high of yourself if you think you're the cause."

This really was one straw too many. She had been ignored, insulted, yelled at, and threatened for trying to help people like this ungrateful wretch, and Georgina was tired of taking the blame for everyone else's troubles. The only signal of her rising temper was a slight tightening of her lips.

"And you think too highly of yourself if you think you're the only one who suffers."

The girl looked up. Her brownish-blond hair could use a good washing, but its lack of luster had as much to do with improper nourishment as lack of soap. Her face was unblemished and clean, but the color was sallow and her eyes dull. "I don't think of myself at all. What's the point?"

That struck Georgina more forcefully than anything else she could have said. It made her see the utter hopelessness of her surroundings. They would never have anything. Every day would be a struggle for survival. One blow to their precarious existence would turn them all out in the streets and leave them to starve. Where was the fun and excitement a child should be allowed to expect upon occasion? It was more than obvious the girl before her was little more than a child, but already she carried the burdens of a much older adult.

The grandmotherly woman produced a steaming cup of tea and set it on the table. "Sit. Drink. Don't listen to her. It is fine here. Much better than the old country. We will find her a good man, and she will be all smiles."

Audrey made no comment, and Georgina thought she had some understanding of how the other girl felt. Maybe she ought to offer her Peter as a choice of husbands. No doubt Audrey would be a good deal more excited than Georgina at the prospect.

"Good men are rather rare," she offered tentatively.

That brought a response from Audrey, a gleam of agreement, a flicker of something that hadn't been there earlier. She stabbed the vest more forcefully.

"In the meantime, I'm doing my best to persuade Mr. Mulloney that the newspaper article had nothing to do with you. Men tend to be unreasonable when they are angry, but he'll calm down in a day or two. I'll try again then. I'm sure he'll understand that you had nothing to do with any of it."

Georgina rather thought it was anger flushing the girl's cheeks, but she still didn't speak. Georgina supposed she would have difficulty expressing gratitude or anything at all pleasant under the circumstances, too. She sipped her tea and wondered if there was anything else she could say, but the girl's depression was contagious. She had never felt this dismal in her life.

The front door suddenly burst open, and the sound of a sob brought all of them to their feet. Before Georgina could do anything, Janice stood in the kitchen doorway, her face a tear-stained mask of grief and fury as she recognized the intruder.

"Get out!" she commanded, pointing at the door behind her. "I don't have to put up with the likes of you ever again."

"Now, Janice, the nice lady came to help." The old woman offered a placating hand to both women.

"The nice lady's father just fired me and told me I'd never find work in this town again. The nice lady can get her fancy gear out of here." Janice wiped at her face with the back of her hand, then crossed her arms determinedly across her chest.

"That isn't possible," Georgina stuttered, edging toward the door. "He hasn't been himself lately. I'll talk to him. It must be a misunderstanding."

"Do you think I'm too dumb to know when I've been fired? Get out, Miss Hanover, and don't ever come back. It's you and your kind that causes trouble. We don't need your empty promises."

Georgina didn't know what to say. She had accomplished nothing but trouble from the start, and she knew it. She had meant to help, but intentions weren't enough. Biting her lip, she turned and walked through the front room and out the door.

She was too dazed to know where she was walking. She had a vague idea of finding her father and asking what had happened, maybe pleading with him to reconsider. The knowledge that her pleas had fallen on deaf ears before did nothing to calm her.

Maybe she was good for nothing but arranging dinner tables and having babies after all. Maybe she should marry Peter and be grateful that she had a roof over her head. Maybe men were right and women had no place outside the home. She certainly hadn't seen anything to tell her differently since she began this crusade.

Tears were creeping down her cheeks and her handkerchief was in tatters before Georgina realized she didn't know where she was or where she was going. At the same time, it dawned on her that she was being followed. The scuffling noises and murmured taunts grew louder behind her. Afraid to turn around, she walked faster, desperately trying to figure out how to escape this maze of narrow alleys.

"What's the matter, lady? Think you're too good for us?"

As if the fact that they had been discovered made them braver, the men behind her moved in closer. At least Georgina thought they were men. She was too terrified to look, but the voice had sounded definitely low and male.

"Lost, lady? Want a map? Give you one for a kiss."

A hand grabbed her elbow. She shook it off and wished for her parasol. She needed a weapon. Lifting her skirts, she hurried faster.

"Not so quick, lady. You got to pay the toll if you walk this street." A grubby figure dashed in front of her, his cap parked at a jaunty angle over his forehead as he looked her up and down.

He wasn't much taller than she, but Georgina had learned to recognize a man's muscular strength, and this man could have been a blacksmith from the breadth of his chest. The bulky plaid shirt he wore did little to disguise the power of the arms crossing in front of him as he stared at her boldly. She didn't dare try to get by him.

Swinging around, she confronted a taller, lankier assailant. She couldn't tell if his skin was darkened by nature, sun, or dirt, but his teeth flashed white against his face as he blocked her path. "Toll, lady. Pay the toll." He held his arms out wide and stepped forward.

She ducked under his arm and tried to run past him, back the way she had come, but he stuck out a foot and tripped her. She stumbled, and he caught her up in a grip that was just as strong as Peter's. She screamed in fright and tried to shake free.

"I'd leave the lady alone if I were you," a voice rang from out of nowhere.

Georgina and her attackers swung around, searching the empty street, seeing nothing in the blank windows but the occasional flutter of a curtain. The people who inhabited these houses had learned to stay away from trouble.

"Come out and make us," the cocky, short man shouted, reaching to grab Georgina's waist.

"You don't want me to do that." A movement in a nearby alley gave an indication as to the source of the voice.

Georgina gasped as she recognized the insolent stance of the shadow leaning against a wall. Daniel! She had never been so glad to see anybody in her life. The ruffian grasping her waist smelled of garlic and worse, and the taller man's grip was hurting her arm. She blanked her mind against the thoughts of what would have happened had Daniel not arrived. She could barely tolerate her immediate position.

"Why not, cowboy? Whatya gonna do 'bout it?" The taller man grabbed a hank of Georgina's hair and twisted her head backward until she was looking up into his hair-stubbled face. She screamed and tried to pull away as she read his intent to kiss her, but held by two sets of arms, there wasn't far she could go.

An oddly sharp bark split the thick summer air, and the painful hold on Georgina's arm slackened. The tall man yipped and staggered backward, trying to pull his foot up.

"You want your turn?" Daniel asked the remaining man as he strolled from the alley, swinging something in his hand that glittered silver in the sunlight.

Feeling the hold at her waist loosening, Georgina grabbed her skirt and jerked free, running in Daniel's direction, keeping to the side of the street and not between him and the men backing away.

"Cripes! He's got a gun. The man's crazy!" The shorter man backed toward the nearest alley. "We didn't mean nothing. We were just having some fun. Honest."

"Invite me next time you want to have some fun. I'll show you how we teach people to dance back where I come from." Daniel deliberately aimed the revolver at the shorter man's feet, sending a spurt of bullets into the dust.

The man picked up his feet and ran, his wounded partner limping hurriedly after him.

Gasping, Georgina leaned against the nearest building, holding a hand to her pounding chest and staring from Daniel to the now empty street. She had a hard time believing she had seen that. People didn't do that in Cutlerville, Ohio. She glanced back to Daniel and watched as he slid the wicked revolver beneath his coat and out of sight. She would remember to beware of this man when he was wearing a coat.

But once the gun was out of sight, Daniel returned to being the bare-faced, mild-mannered journalist with the engaging grin as he sauntered toward her. A hank of pale brown hair fell across his forehead, making him look as boyish as the rowdies who sold his papers for him. The twinkle in his gray eyes as he took in her pose had nothing to do with the man who had just unloaded a half dozen bullets into the street.

"I don't know if I ought to be more frightened of you than of them." Pushing away from the wall, Georgina fiddled with her gloves. Daniel was close enough now for her to smell his spicy shaving lotion as he towered over her. She had a sudden urge to fall into his arms and feel them close around her, but Georgina Meredith Hanover didn't do things like that. She was known for her snappy comebacks and bouncy personality and her ability to keep men at a proper distance. She was just momentarily discommoded, that was all.

"Since I'm closest and I'm madder than hell, feel free to be afraid of me. Do I have to chase you through half the town to get you home again, or will you go willingly this time?"

Georgina sighed and finally met his eyes. They weren't laughing any longer. Damn men, anyway, why couldn't they let things be simple?

"I'll go, but you'll have to come back and talk to Janice. She just lost her job. We have to do something."

Daniel caught her arm and steered her down the street. "I have to do something. There is no we to it. Now let's get out of here before those two come back with a few friends."

He didn't have to tell her twice. Georgina moved.