Free A Man for Annalee by Vonnie Davis Page A

topic of conversation.” Men fighting over her in front of her cabin came to mind. “You could do me a favor. Please pass the word along that while I am single, I am not looking for a man.”
    Minnie pulled out a chair at the next table and sat. “Well, if you ain’t lookin’ fer a man, whatcha doin’ at the marshal’s table?”
    What in the world was Minnie getting at? “The marshal’s table?” Her head turned at the jingling bell over the door. Marshal Hartwell came in, slamming the door behind him.
    “Minnie,” he barked. “Get me coffee and whatever pie you got left.”
    “Sure thing, boss.”
    Boss? Why would a waitress call the marshal boss? A sinking feeling hit her. She’d wondered who’d been daft enough to name a restaurant Beans for the Belly, and there was only one fool who’d do such a thing. That person was advancing, anger flashing from his dark eyes. He pulled out the chair across from her, spun it around, and straddled it, keeping his gaze locked on hers. Without speaking, he removed his hat and slapped it on top of her packages. Her nose wrinkled at the unpleasant smell that followed him in.
    “Miss Annalee, I want to thank you for tying the buggy in front of the jail. And for shutting my outdoor dog indoors so that when I stepped into my office I stepped into a pile of…”
    Minnie slapped a mug of coffee and a huge slab of pie in front of the marshal and sniffed. “Tarnation! What’s that awful stink?”
    Boone shot her an aggravated glance, and she grinned.
    “Boss, did ya step in it again?”
    “Couldn’t help it. The dog left it right inside the door. I thought I got the most of it scraped off. If you can smell it, guess I didn’t.” He added three spoonfuls of sugar and stirred.
    Annalee lifted her cup and sipped. “You own this restaurant.” It wasn’t a question.
    One could tell by his demeanor he owned it. But then, given he’d acted earlier as if he owned her, this might not be the case.
    Boone forked in a mouthful of pie and nodded as he chewed. “Your grandfather hired me as marshal back before the jail was built. There wasn’t enough money in the town’s coffers yet to pay for a jail. Meanwhile, I knew I’d need a place to keep an eye on things.”
    He looked around the eating area with its six tables covered in yellow oilcloth. “So, my brother and I built this restaurant.”
    “Your brother? I thought you’d lost all of your family.”
    “Adopted brother.” He sipped his coffee. “Once the restaurant was built, I’d come in here and watch Main Street through the windows. Fresh coffee. Plenty to eat. Got so I liked it better in here than I did the new jail once it was finished. Not enough windows, I guess.” He looked into his coffee mug. “And I couldn’t make coffee as good as Minnie, so I continued spending most of my time here. Folks know to check this window if they’re looking for me.”
    “Aren’t you rather young for the position? I mean, do you have much experience?” He looked to be around thirty.
    He lifted a shoulder, a movement he was inclined to make when he talked about himself. “I studied law. Left school before I got my degree, so taking this position seemed natural. The town built the jail with a room in the back for me, so I’d always be available. Criminals don’t keep bankers’ hours.”
    With a sweeping movement of her hand, Annalee slid her uneaten pie aside. The stench from his boots had killed her appetite.
    Scraping his plate, he stuck the fork in his mouth to lick off the tines. His gaze swept to her pie, and he pointed with his fork. “You gonna finish that?” When she silently slid it over, he dove in.
    He looked so harmless now, not at all the hardened, pugnacious individual she’d seen earlier at the cabin. A bruise on his cheekbone was swollen about the size of a walnut. There was a cut on his lower lip and his knuckles were skinned raw.
    Her temper flared. The fool man could have been hurt. “I guess