Jake Runway: A Short Story

Jake wanted to accuse Kat of a lot more—a hell of a lot more, but all he could do was glare at her. Even with the effects of the unforgiving heat and dusty layers of clothing, she was more beautiful than he remembered. She looked . . . well, citified and she smelled like a damn flower garden. That’s what got him into this calamity two years ago.
Thick lashes fanned against her cheeks, masking her expression, but when she looked up it was with fierce anger. “I . . . you wouldn’t arrest me. On what charge?”
Oh, he’d tell her what charge—when he was damn ready. For the moment, he was still trying to make some sense out of her arrival. What had Gramps been up to? Jake had a sick feeling about the telegram he’d received from a St. Louis attorney. …show more content…

Before the passengers climbed from the stage, curious bystanders meandered outside to catch a glimpse of the dead men. Some of the onlookers hollered to Jake, but he ignored the commotion and sought Kat out.
He found her standing next to Pat Herman who held the child.
“Mrs. Master’s, I’ll meet you here after I take care of these bandits. It’ll take a few minutes.” He tipped his hat to Pat and watched Kat fidget with her dress.
She ignored Jake and offered a half-smile to Pat. “I suppose I should arrange for the luggage and a buggy.”
The woman gazed from Jake to Kat. “Why don’t you meet Abby and I at the store when you’re finished?”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Kat said.
Pat hastened across the street and walked past a long, white picket fence framing the Farlow Boarding House.
At the end of the block, wagons and horses lined the hitching posts at Herman’s General Store. Outside the store, a brawny man of medium height ran toward Pat, a brown apron flapped against his legs and his muscles strained against the black garters that held back the dark sleeves of his shirt. He pulled her close, the child between them, kissing Pat’s cheek before escorting her into the general …show more content…

An attentive clerk with thick, wire-rimmed glasses addressed her from behind an oak counter. “Ma’am.” “My trunk is on the stage and I’ll need it delivered to the Lucky Chance ranch.” “Ah yes, we haven’t made arrangements for anyone there since Mr. Davenport left for St. Louis.”
The clerk’s statement caught Kat unawares and she bit the inside of her cheeks to keep them from trembling.
After naming a fee, which she paid, the clerk thanked Kat for riding the stage line.
With that issue handled, she backtracked to the street where a group of townspeople gathered near Melvin Armstrong. An ensemble of “oohs and aahs” circulated in the crowd as he informed the local press of his heroic aid to the stage driver. Kat groaned and shot a disbelieving glance at Melvin. She spotted Jake across the street and hoped the crowd obscured his vision. It wasn’t her intention to meet with now, or ever, for that matter. She ducked into the livery.
“I'll take that.”
Kat glared up at him. He wouldn’t arrest her, would he? “I’m here for a horse and buggy. I can take care of myself.”
Jake’s fingers grabbed the handles of carpetbag and tugged it from her hands. “You don’t have a choice. I’m going to assist whether you like it or