Paper Hearts Read online

  Paper Hearts

  by Maureen Child

  (Originally published under the name Kathleen Kane and released by Jove Historical Romance)

  Copyright 1993 by Maureen Child

  About the Author

  USA TODAY bestselling author Maureen Child has been nominated for six prestigious RITA Awards from the Romance Writers of America for her sexy, heartwarming romance novels.

  Visit Maureen online at MaureenChild.com and Facebook.com/MaureenChild.

  Chapter One

  Emma Taylor stood uncertainly on the wide boardwalk, tapping her fingernail against her chin. There were so many things to do, she didn't know where to start. Her gaze moved over the main street of Buckshot, California. It still amazed her to think how little her hometown had changed in the two years she'd been gone, when so much had happened to her.

  Gently she ran her hand over the front of her lavender day gown and smiled. In the two weeks she'd been back home, she hadn't worn the same dress twice. Quite a change from the days when dressing up meant wearing her faded yellow calico and brushing her hair.

  Her tomboy days were well behind her now, though. And she would prove it to everyone with the Valentine's Day dance.

  Unconsciously her gaze drifted to the sheriff’s office. It was high time, Emma told herself, that some people in Buckshot found out that she wasn't a silly little girl anymore. Her chin lifted and she reached up to pat her perfectly smooth honey-blond hair into place.

  Of course, she told herself, if she kept on avoiding J.T., how would he ever notice the change in her? The sheriff's door opened and Emma looked away quickly.

  ###

  J.T. Phillips stepped out of his office and stopped dead. Emma. He inhaled sharply as he watched her. Damn, she was beautiful. Of course, he'd always known she would be.

  There was no sign now of the skinny little girl with flyaway braids who used to chase after him all the time. She was full-grown now, and as far as he could see, she'd done a right nice job of it, too. Her soft blond hair was pulled back from her face and fell in a heavy mass down her back to her narrow waist. Her gently rounded figure filled out one of the new eastern dresses she'd brought home with her, and he knew without looking that her sherry-colored eyes were sparkling and the light dusting of freckles across her small, straight nose looked like flecks of gold in the afternoon light.

  Self-consciously he glanced down at his own rumpled appearance. He'd spent most of the night before squatting under a tree, trying to catch the fella who'd been stealing Maybelle Hawken's chickens. Now his black pants were dusted with molting chicken feathers, his vest was crumpled and mud-stained, and his long-sleeved white shirt was ripped and torn. Oh, he was a fine sight.

  J.T.' s hands balled into fists of frustration. He'd been trying to get Emma alone for two weeks now and this was his first real chance. Ever since she got home, she'd been avoiding him like he had smallpox or something! He pulled his wide-brimmed hat down low over his eyes and frowned. Enough was enough!

  This time she was going to talk to him. J.T. glanced down the street then stepped off the boardwalk and marched toward her. With every step, though, his mind tried to remind him that he'd made a vow to be patient. To let her settle in… get used to being back home again. But damn it, it was no easy task bein' patient.

  This was all her pa's fault anyway. He never should have shipped Emma off to that fancy ladies' academy back east. She was bound to come home with all sorts of fancy notions from those fast-talkin', faster-movin' city folks. J.T. had tried to tell the man that no good would come of it… but nobody could tell Frank Taylor anything.

  Well, now he was findin' out what was what. The first thing Emma did when she came home was toss out her pa’s spittoon and tobacco. Told him it wasn't re-fined.

  J.T. snorted and kept moving.

  It wasn't just her pa's tobacco, either. Ever since she got home, she'd been hell-bent for changin' things around. Forever talkin' about how things were done back east.

  Like the Valentine's Day dance. He stepped up on the boardwalk and came up behind her silently. "Hello, Emma."

  She jumped and spun around. "J.T." Her face paled then flushed with color.

  He snatched his hat off, sending his black hair tumbling over his forehead. "Didn't mean to scare you."

  ###

  Emma's heart pounded so heavily she could hardly hear him. Lord, she thought frantically, why hadn't she heard him coming up? She might have had time to get away if she'd only been paying attention. For two weeks she'd managed to keep from being alone with him and she'd hoped for still more time before facing him. Emma looked up into his dark, fathomless eyes and knew she was good and trapped. She recognized that look of determination. J.T. wasn't about to let her escape.

  Deliberately Emma took a few long, deep breaths, trying to steady the nervous flutter growing in the pit of her stomach. Her nose wrinkled. What was that smell? Chickens?

  She laced her fingers together to keep from reaching up and smoothing his hair back. Just like always. He needed a good haircut.

  And, she noted as her gaze swept over him, his shirt was missing a button and his black vest looked as though it'd been under a herd of stampeding cattle. Emma shook her head slightly. Just like the town, J.T. Phillips hadn't changed a bit

  Well, she had. And maybe now was just the time to start showing him how much. "I wasn't scared, J.T.," she said, straightening her gloves. "Only startled."

  His eyebrows quirked. "Emma, I've been meanin' to get out to your place…"

  "Of course." Emma forced a smile. "We have a lot to discuss, don't we?"

  J.T.,'s face brightened a little. "Yeah, you could say so."

  "After all, the Valentine's Day dance is only a couple of weeks away. We'll have to get our groups busy."

  "What?" He cocked his head and stared at her. "Our groups?"

  "Well, yes." She opened her string bag and pulled out a piece of paper. "Reverend Jeffries said he told you all about it. You're to be in charge of the men. I'll handle the ladies' end."

  He snatched the paper from her. "In charge of what? It's just a dance. We have one every year."

  "But that's just it," Emma retorted happily. "Everything's going to be different this year."

  "Different?" J.T. 's eyes narrowed. "How different?"

  "Well, for one thing," she said, straightening her shoulders, "there won't be any of Dutch's home brew floating around the crowd."

  J.T. threw his head back and laughed. "Dutch's been bringing his moonshine to every shindig we ever had for years. How do you plan to stop him?"

  "I haven't decided yet." Her eyes narrowed dangerously as he continued to chuckle. "But I will. Mark my words."

  "Even if you do figure out a way to stop Dutch" – he shook his head slowly – "the saloon'll still be here."

  She'd forgotten all about that. "Well, for heaven's sake, J.T., you're the sheriff. Make him close up for the day!"

  "'I can't do that, Emma."

  "I don't see why not," she challenged. "After all, it's for the good of the whole town."

  "Accordin' to you. But Tom Hill's got to make a livin' same as anybody else, and he ain't about to shut down his saloon on the day when everybody for miles around comes into town!"

  Emma started to argue, then thought better of it. How would bickering with the man like a child prove to him that she'd finally grown up? She'd spent two years at that blasted academy learning how to control her temper. Now, five minutes alone with J.T. Phillips and she wanted to find a rock and pitch it at him.

  She glanced up at him covertly and groaned silently. Wouldn't you think, she asked herself, that in two long years she'd have been able to learn how to overcome the flood of feelings that raced through her body anytime
J.T. was near? But she hadn't. If anything, the feelings seemed to have gotten worse. Even when she was angry with him, her body responded to his presence.

  Well, she'd just have to get used to it. Buckshot was her home, too, and she wasn't about to leave town just to avoid him!

  "If you won't do your duty, J.T.," she said finally, her voice shaking only a little bit, "I'll speak to Tom myself." She turned and walked toward the saloon.

  ###

  Now, how in the hell did that happen? J.T. wondered. He hadn't meant to get her all het up. All he wanted to do was talk to her!

  J.T. slapped his hat against his thighs in disgust and sneezed violently when chicken feathers floated up to his nose. He turned, jumped down from the boardwalk, and headed back across the street to his office. Shaking his head, he remembered that one moment when he'd spied the old Emma underneath all the prim starchiness. For just a second J.T.' d thought she was going to shout at him. When he refused to close down the saloon, those eyes of hers had lit up like a brushfire in summer. He sighed and wearily climbed back up on the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse. But, he told himself, it prob'ly wasn't re-fined to raise your voice.

  He leaned back against the wood-framed building and stared at the saloon across the street. Something had to be done. Somehow J.T. had to find a way to get the old Emma back.

  Chapter Two

  Couldn't anyone in town see what she was trying to do? Emma left the saloon in a rush, sending the batwing doors flying. On the boardwalk she stood for a moment, her hand at her breast, trying to calm her breathing. For heaven's sake. The way Tom Hill talked, you'd think she'd asked him to burn his saloon to the ground. When all she wanted was for him to close up for one day.

  She glanced over her shoulder toward where she'd left J.T. He was gone. Good, she told herself. She didn't want to see him anyway.

  Emma sighed and shook her head slowly. She'd so wanted to show J.T. how much she'd learned while she was away. To prove to him somehow that she was no longer the pigtailed little girl who'd adored him and followed him all over town. That she was a grown woman.

  But it appeared that it wasn't going to be easy. She frowned and glared at the buildings lining Main Street. Especially with the folks in town treating her the same way they always had… like a nice girl who sometimes got too big for her breeches.

  Emma squirmed uncomfortably for a moment and found herself wishing that she was in breeches. The dang stays in her blasted corset were about to cut off her breathing altogether! She glanced down and frowned at her new shoes as she shifted from one foot to the other. The knife-sharp points on the dainty footwear held her toes in an agonizing grip. It was all she could do not to stoop and pull the hateful things off right there on Main Street. Emma smiled softly at the thought of walking home barefoot like she used to before she became a lady. Oh, it would be wonderful to feel the soft dirt sift between her toes again.

  She straightened up suddenly. No, she told herself. She'd spent two years in that fancy academy learning how to be a lady. And by thunder, lady she was going to be… even if it killed her!

  She stiffened her spine and lifted her chin. She'd show all of them. Everyone who'd ever thought that Frank Taylor's little girl would never be anything but a wild-haired hoyden would soon know how wrong they'd been.

  A flash of color caught her eye and Emma turned quickly to see Myrtis Hartsfield darting back into the alley behind the Hartsfields' blacksmith shed and corral.

  Instantly Emma leaped down from the boardwalk and started for the woman. She had to find out if Myrtis had finished making the list of foods for the dance and party. Ignoring the painful pinch of her shoes and only limping slightly, Emma kept moving, fervently hoping Myrtis would invite her in for tea. At least then she could sit down for a bit.

  ###

  J.T. stepped out from behind the newel post and chuckled helplessly as he watched Emma. He'd seen the way Myrtis tried to duck out of sight and he knew it wouldn't do the woman any good. Once Emma's mind was set on something, she was as hard to move as a wagon load of rocks.

  Ever since the town council had named Emma the head of the Valentine's Day dance committee, she'd been hounding the other ladies half to death with her plans. Everything had to be just so. And the menfolk were starting to complain about the whole thing.

  He snorted, turned toward his office, but stopped outside the door and glanced back down the street. Emma, gripping Myrtis's arm, was hurrying toward the church. As he stared after the retreating figures J.T. told himself that maybe he was going about this all wrong. Maybe instead of giving her time to settle back into town life, he should just up and ask her to marry him. After all, hadn't he been waiting five years already?

  No. He shook his head at his own impatience. He'd loved her for years and he'd go right on loving her. But he was going to do this right. And that meant giving Emma time. Time to realize the feelings she'd had for him as a girl could be returned now that she was a woman. His body tensed and J.T. groaned. He only hoped he could survive the wait.

  He grabbed the door latch and gave a mighty shove. The heavy plank door swung wide, crashing into the inside wall.

  "Dammit all to hell!" The young blond man seated at one of the two desks jumped, swore, and threw his pen down. "See what you made me do?" he shouted, then looked up. His jaw snapped shut. After a few moments of stony silence the blond mumbled, "Sorry, Sheriff. Didn't know it was you."

  J.T. moved into the room. He tossed his hat onto a nearby peg and walked to his own desk. He plopped down heavily onto his chair and glanced at his deputy. "You best be glad it was me! Suppose you'd cussed the preacher like that?"

  Deputy Danny Hanks smiled sheepishly. "Reckon then he'd be most convinced that I'm a lost cause and give up tryin' to reform me."

  J.T. laughed shortly then ran his fingers through his thick black hair. Absently he answered, "Danny, you know the Reverend Jeffries ain't the kind to give up that easy!"

  "S'pose not," the younger man agreed. Then his eyes narrowed as he looked at his boss. "What's eatin' you?"

  "Nothin'."

  "Humph!" Danny shook his head. "Yeah. And I know what her name is. Emma Taylor." He leaned back in his chair. "What's she done now?"

  "Nothin'. That's the trouble." J.T. pushed himself up from the chair and crossed the room to the nearest window. He stared blankly at the town outside and continued, "Hell, she hardly talks to me anymore."

  "Things sure have changed, all right." Danny grinned at J.T.'s back. "Why, I remember all the times we had to chase that girl outta here so's we could get some work done!"

  J.T. smiled at the memory and, not for the first time, wondered if he'd made a mistake by ignoring her childish advances so long ago. But no, he told himself. She was just a girl then. No more'n fifteen when she started in following him around. But even then he'd seen the woman she would become. Even then he'd loved her outspokenness. Her hardheadedness. Her unswerving loyalty to those she loved.

  But he'd waited. Five long years. And two of those with her back east surrounded by city men. It had about killed him waitin' for her to get back home. And when she did, she couldn't see him for dust.

  "Yeah. I remember," he said softly.

  "You know, boss," Danny added, "she's about to drive everybody in town loco with all her high-falutin' plans for the dance!" He sighed heavily. "Hell, she's got all of us runnin' around in circles. Never had to work this hard before to throw together a wingding. And I'm purely sick to death of hearin' about the way things are back east."

  J.T. didn't stir.

  "Why, ,do you know what she said just yesterday?" Danny all but screeched in outrage. "Says all us men got to wear suits and ties to this here dance. Says it won't hurt us none to at least look like gentlemen! She says if we ain't dressed up proper, we can't come!" He threw his arms wide. "You ever hear the like? I mean, her tellin' us we can't go to our own dance?"

  J.T. turned around and walked back to his desk. Nothing Emma did would surpris
e him. As he sat down he said offhandedly, "So, quit workin' for her."

  "Hah!" Danny shook his finger at J.T. "I'd as soon try to grab a rattler by the tail as try to tell Emma Taylor I quit. I swear, boss, once that woman's got you hog-tied, there ain't no gettin' free." He frowned slightly. "You say she ain't talkin' to you?"

  "Nope."

  "Then you're about the only one in town with any peace. Can't figure how you're gettin' out of all this. You're s'posed to be in charge of the men! And, Sheriff" – Danny shook one finger at the other man – "the boys is kinda wonderin' when you're gonna take over. The men're gettin' right tired takin' orders from Emma Taylor. Hell, most of 'em remember wipin' her nose when she was a young'un. "

  J.T. stared at his deputy. "How is it everybody in town knows that I'm in charge of the men's committee and nobody bothered to tell me?"