Serenity

9. At Her Command

Molly Stockholme had taken her time telling Caroline about her father's body.

Stepping out onto the dirt track of Serenity's main street, Caroline recalled the middle-aged lady's expression. Fake. No other word for it. Molly's thick black eyebrows had curved upwards as she assisted Caroline into the uncomfortable chair at a table in the Spirit of the West Saloon.

Molly's breath had reeked with the remnants of whisky from the night before, and something else, much worse besides. However, Caroline wasn't there to condemn the woman on her profession. She'd been there to bear witness to her father's final moments.

Asshole.

Caroline would never forgive him. As Molly's sweaty hands clutched desperately at hers while she explained, blow for blow the indecent actions of her father's last movements, the young woman had sworn she no longer loved him.

Right then and there. That was the point. He'd crossed the line, only, just...

Caroline blinked away moisture from her dark eyelashes.

Molly's words faded away. Caroline brought herself to stand up tall under the glare of the late summer sun. She took a hold of the material of her grey skirts and shook out the creases. Passing a hand across the side of her head, she palmed her breeze-swept hair down under control.

Caroline drew in a huge breath before rounding the corner and striding onto the Sheriff's boardwalk.

She caught sight of the tall figure she'd watched through the window earlier. He had taken off his dark jacket and appeared to be struggling to release his neck tie from his throat.

Smiling to herself, she spied on him from the open doorway. Would he be as attractive when he turned round as he looked from above?

To give her the answer she required, he tore off his tie and tilted his head to glare at her with rich, dark brown eyes. The sight of his thick, black haired chest under the top of his slightly unbuttoned shirt, left her flicking her gaze around quickly for another focus.

Heat raised in her cheeks and she thanked the good Lord that she hadn't bothered with the rouge this morning.

The dark haired man straightened up and strode his way towards her. He came to a stop at the threshold in an almost military style, it sent her off her keel. Faced with such precision and purpose, Caroline shrank back into the facade of a little girl once more.

He stared. He kept on staring. Not saying a word.

Rumbles of chatter and clattering plates and pans rattled across the street from Frank's Canteen. It echoed as if from another time and place.

The man placed his hands on either side of the doorway. She noticed that he wore no wedding ring. He didn't take her in as she was used to. No gawping from foot to neck. No lingering leer at her scalloped neckline.

He looked at her.

"You've saved me a journey, Miss Ashbury. Miss Molly has delivered the news, I take it? Please accept my condolences."

His deep voice throbbed through the woodwork underneath her feet. She swallowed and attempted to get her thoughts in order. Although, her traitorous eyes insisted on training in on his open neckline.

"Why, of course." She spluttered while she dug her nails into her palms. "I am grateful to receive them."

The blasted man continued to fix her with that deep glare. She had to take a hold of the situation. Get a grip on herself.

"Do you have any more information on the death of my father?"

The words sprang free from her lips, alive and loose without her permission. She wrenched her eyes from his body and focused on the scrappy floorboards next to the pristine toes of her boots.