by Jillian Hart
"Very funny, and I'd die of embarrassment if you even attempted it, brother of mine." Skye rolled her eyes and kept going through the sweet grasses, where wildflowers bloomed, bees buzzed lazily from blossom to blossom and larks sang sweetly.
"Think of the expense we would have to go to," Abe called out warmly and kindly. "Men would be jumping at the chance to make an extra penny."
"Heck, they would pay us for the privilege," Brennan said, and the warmth of his compliment stuck with him.
She gazed out toward the mountains, anywhere, that would give her something to focus on besides the sight of Brennan straddling the rafters, all rippling muscles and sun-bronzed skin.
She heard a whistle split the air, competing with the melody and harmony of birdsong and wind. She spun to see Brennan high up, walking a beam. He pointed out in the field to her.
Her heart leaped at the sight of the black stallion. The wild horse hung back, aware of the feeder full of food now encased in brand new fencing. Hesitant and wary. He did not want to be caught.
But she did want to adore him. She stayed silent and still, squinting at the eastern section of her property, into the bright, hopeful sun.
"Hello, gorgeous mustangs," she breathed. Joy filled her right up, as usual, leaving only love.
The small band of mustangs studied her from a far distance, heads up, noses scenting the air, eyes warmly recognizing the lady who set out grain for them.
The magnificent animals looked like art, even standing still. The sunlight glistened on their glossy coats, enriching colors of black, white, red and bay, silver and spotted.
Skye sighed. Such beauty, such free spirited hearts. Their magnificence took her breath away.
For six, seven beats the band of wild horses stayed frozen, statue still, portrait masterpieces painted against the growing lush meadows full of Indian paint brush, buttercup and dandelion, thistle and coneflower, with daisies everywhere.
Then the stallion tossed his head, gave a trumpet of command, and wheeled away, leading the herd across the glorious meadows. Manes rippled against sleek necks. Sunlight gleamed on the elegant lines of their shoulders, backs and flanks. Dainty hooves and legs churned. Tails flew in the wind.
"Look at them go," she whispered to herself. Alone, between the house and the barn, she watched them disappear.
They were her dream. So she forced herself not to look back at the new construction and the tall, muscled man walking the beams, all in black, a silhouette-like shadow against the background of light, life and green.
What she didn't see was the shadow lost in the woods, a human form.
And he was armed.
* * *
Nothing like solving a pretty woman's troubles. Brennan reined Huck to a stop beside the familiar buggy parked in front of the mercantile. Orville looked over and gave a friendly nicker of welcome.
"Hello, buddy." He dismounted, leaving the animals to touch noses as he wound the reins around the hitching post good and tight.
Dog Wood was busy today. He eyed the long line of storefronts that dominated Main Street and spotted a familiar woman swishing toward him on the boardwalk. "Skye, that was perfect timing. You look like you've done some real damage to your spending budget."
"Yes, I'm trying my best." She flashed him a dimpled grin that was entirely sweet.
It wasn't her fault that his eye lingered there, on her lips. Her lush, rose-pink, kissable lips.
She gave her bonnet brim an upward bump so she could see better, straightened her slender shoulders and hefted the cloth shopping bag full of what looked like ribbons and yarn into the floor of the buggy.
She arched a slender eyebrow at her. "I didn't know you would be coming in to town. I should have expected it, though. Men never think ahead."
"It's easier to think behind." He stole the other bags from her and stowed them in the boot for her. "In all honesty, what I needed could not be bought in a store."
"Whiskey?"
"No."
"Wait, you're a gambler, aren't you? You're one of those secretly go-on-a-gambling-spree and lose it all types, aren't you?"
He gave a soft bark of laughter. "No. And I'm a danged good gambler."
"Well, I don't approve of gamblers." Teasing, she jutted out her chin and set her jaw.
It didn't help. All he could see was her complete and utter amusement. The disguise of her trying to disapprove of him didn't work one bit.
He could see the real Skye Weatherby, still sweet and soft. He knew just how she felt in his arms.
His blood thickened, remembering.
He wrestled down a deeper desire for her, a want that he could not give in to, and eyed the nearby store. She wanted true love. That's what he wanted to give her. "Let's try to get you into that shop and home again without attracting any bad man's attention this time."
"What do you mean? Is there a bad man around?" Skye pushed her hat brim up to better search the surrounding street. "I don't think you mean Judson, do you?"
"There's a few things you don't know about the man, but you might have a problem with him. He's the type. And it just might be my fault."
"That's why you're hanging around, isn't it?"
"One reason. The other is that I can't get a good job with this arm."
"You took the bullet on my land. Which means I should be taking care of you."
"You've got that backwards. I like to keep busy while I heal up. C'mon, pretty gal, get on with your shopping."
"Good idea." She hopped up onto the boardwalk.
It was tough not to admire her and not to desire, even a little.Beautiful curves of breasts and hips, of long lean legs beneath that shirred, ruffled skirt.
"Take your time." He caught the door for her, holding it open. "Don't worry about a thing."
"Hey, I'm a professional when it comes to shopping." She sailed past him, smelling faintly of strawberry. "It's my favorite activity next to eating dessert."
"Well, that's everyone's favorite activity. Even mine."
"Good to know about you. I'll remember to ply you with dessert to keep you sweet."
"I ain't sweet," he quipped back. "But I never say no to dessert."
The place was crowded, full of women shopping for their families, cowboys or shopkeepers slipping in to grab a few things they needed. Skye disappeared down a nearby aisle of shelving and he nodded to the store clerk. "I'm peaceable. Not an outlaw."
"Good to know, because an outlaw is the rumor going around about the new gunman in town." The clerk pitched his voice over the general noise in the store. "Want me to start an account for you?"
"Please. You know where I live." He nodded once in appreciation and stepped out of the way.
After seeing the shadow in the trees, he was taking the situation seriously. Not that it wasn't before, but his eyes were open, his sense sharp. What else was he going to be able to discover?
He caught sight of Skye's bonnet over the top of the shelving bobbing along slowly, swiveling a little as she looked over her choices. He rolled his eyes at the fiery softness he felt for her and did the wise thing by pushing it down.
That woman was trouble. Look what she'd done to him so far.
He turned his back to the store and moseyed over to the window. Looking around, he didn't see Judson or his friends. It was a troubling sign. He turned his attention to the noise inside the store. The ring of conversation, the opening of the door when a customer left let in the clatter of a horse and buggy rolling by.
"I can go forward with the plan." Skye's soft voice was hard to hear, but he pealed his ears, listening hard, not able to accept the rationale why he could pick out her voice among so many.
The plan? He wondered what she was up to.
"There is nothing we can do but hope for the best," Samantha said quietly. "What if you place a new employment advertisement and no one else answers?"
"It's happened before. I don't now how I can have a round up without more help."
"Maybe
Brennan will know what to do," Samantha suggested. "He cares about your ranch and horses. And you. I know he does."
It was good to know what Skye was up to, he thought. She was definitely the right kind of trouble. He squared his shoulders, amused by her glorious plans to save the wild mustangs. His heart gave an odd kick and a chill snaked down his spine.
That's when he spotted it on the far side of the street. Trouble of a different kind.
18
His blood heated a few furious degrees as he flew out the door. His hand landed on his revolver's grip and he headed straight toward the shadow beside the purebred stallion.
He recognized the shadow. "Helms."
"Outlaw." Judson had his hand on the grip of his gun, also ready to draw. "This is none of your business."
"And neither is the horse. Step away from him."
"Why? It's a public street. I'm causing no harm. I'm merely looking. Nothing wrong with that." His smirk said something different.
The back of Brennan's neck tingled, the only sign that she was coming through the doorway behind him.
"Orville doesn't like strangers. Get away from him." Skye paused on the boardwalk, looking ready for a waltz in a ballroom and about as out-of-her environment as she could get.
He gritted his teeth. It took all his might not to turn his attention to her and not to let the weakness he felt for her affect him.
He fisted his free hand, all fight. "You heard the lady, Judson. This is your last warning."
"You misunderstand. I have the same right as you do to say hello to the lady."
Brennan pounded closer, protective fury punching through him. "I saw you. I've kept my eye on that rise and the tree line. Claude's reported it to the sheriff."
"Is that so? It was him and not you." That smirk grew and twisted the man's features. "It's a shame about the horses, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?" Brennan barked out.
"They're vulnerable and mostly defenseless, aren't they? They get hurt, they trespass, they get in the way of someone's target practice. I'd hate to see fine mustangs like those get hurt."
"Are you hinting that you shot that wild mare?" Skye tumbled into the street, her shoes kicking up dirt. Shock rang in her voice and immeasurable fury.
Brennan really liked that about her. He stepped in front of her, shielding her. "Move along, Judson. You and I already have problems. You don't look like you've got smarts or two pennies to rub together."
"You ain't so much, Outlaw. It takes one to know one. I wouldn't trust him with my life, much less my horse, pretty lady." Judson backed away. "Guess you've made it farther with her than I did, huh, Outlaw? Good luck coming to the rescue next time."
"I don't need luck." Might slammed through him, and he felt protective fierce.
"Hey, what's going on here?" A deputy marched down the boardwalk. "Judson, do I have to arrest you again? You're nothing but trouble in my town and I expect you to do better. Your uncle is the sheriff and he isn't going to want to see a report about you one more time."
"He won't, will he?" Judson nodded. "I'm not causing any trouble here."
"He's trying to steal the horse, and I'd like to press charges." Brennan spoke up. "Abe Weatherby has lodged more than one complaint, as has Claude, and I'd like to do the same."
"That won't be necessary. Our Judson here is just curious, that's all. He's not doing anything wrong." The deputy cast him a dark look before looking more gently on the would-be horse stealer. "Was the bleeding heart judge wrong to give you leniency?"
"No, Deputy Ashe. I'm admiring the lady's horse, that's all there is to it." Judson Helms held up both his hands, innocent, no longer threatening. And acting just like any other man in town and just as normal and friendly.
"I've got my eye on you, get back to your poker game at the saloon." The lawman crossed his hands over his chest and watched as Judson turned around and left. "And you, Mosley. I don't like you, and I'm not sure why. I can't place it."
"There's no need to worry, Deputy. I'm law abiding."
"I don't like guns drawn in this town."
"Yes, sir, I'll remember that." Brennan looked down, not realizing his gun was in his hand. He holstered it. "I don't want trouble."
"Then we have no argument." The lawman turned to Skye and gave a polite nod. "You're okay, aren't you, Miss? Glad you didn't press trespassing charges and make the situation worse."
"Worse? Well, he apologized, but he was upsetting my stallion." Skye laid her hand on Orville's neck.
Orville blew out a breath and gave a dignified nicker, as if he had much to say, too.
"All we can do is keep an eye on him." The lawman shook his head, not looking at all enchanted by the lady. "Good to meet you, Stranger."
"You too, Deputy." He shook the lawman's hand.
The deputy had a sun-browned face, a sparse red beard and matching auburn hair sticking out from beneath his hat brim. "Those Weatherby women shouldn't to be out here on their own. I told the family that, and now I'm telling you. This country is no place for a young lady out and about unprotected."
"Well, I've had troubling hiring men, and I don't see the necessity. I've been safe enough." She bit her lip, as if she were doing her best not to argue.
Orville leaned in press his forehead against her comforting hand.
"You, young lady, are naive, that's all." The deputy scowled, as if he didn't see her viewpoint at all. "You keep this man with you. He looks like he knows how to use the business end of a gun."
"I will," she answered.
Brennan double-checked the rein tying Orville to the hitching post, eager to get going. Lawmen would always make him anxious and remind him of a past best forgotten. "C'mon, Skye. Let's go finish your shopping."
The deputy's footsteps paused and his voice sailed back, sharp and demanding, on the dusty wind. "They call you Outlaw around here, but you aren't one, are you? You look familiar to me. Why is that?"
"I couldn't tell you." That was simple fact. "I'm new to town."
"That I know, but what I don't know is you, Stranger. I'm not one to forget a face, and I must have seen you before. I've got the memory for it." The lawman's gaze narrowed, full of judgement, his eyes hard, cold and suspicious.
Foreboding skidded down Brennan's spine. He planted both fists on his hips and met the deputy's eyes.
"Next time you find a problem, Miss Weatherby, you send Claude or this stranger to talk to me with some real proof. Otherwise, it's just a woman's word against a man's." The lawman knuckled back his Stetson to stare at Skye more judgmentally, and the look on his face made recognition fire through Brennan's brain.
The memory came with the same powerful boom as thunder in the sky. The drum of rain, the whir of wind and the whistle of the nearby train chugging down the track, shaking the earth beneath his boots.
Lightning flared and illuminated a deputy with the similar scruffy beard and pointed, long nose, same expression, same stance. Just like now, except with a lot less gray.
No, it couldn't be. Brennan sucked in air, reeling, and gripped the pommel to steady himself. The past wasn't that far away.
"There aren't many who'd steal a horse in plain sight," the deputy commented. "But if you need to press charges, you won't be able to with better evidence. You need solid proof after the fact, not accusation before. And a horse like the one you got is worth a fortune. You remember that."
"Thank you kindly, Deputy Ashe." Skye nodded her head in respect, if not anger, and bit her bottom lip. Pearl white teeth dug into soft lush pink and her eyes filled with tears.
With endless worry for her horse, he realized, but it was hard to think. His pulse thundered like a runaway train on a downhill grade.
"I'm scared for Orville," Skye was saying as Judson and the deputy walked away. Her voice came distant and tinny, hard to hear over the thudding in his ears. "Poor Orville. He's been pampered his entire life. He wouldn't know what to do with a stranger. If someone took him, I don't know
what I would do."
"Don't you worry." Brennan lifted his head to let the breeze wash over him, warm and sustaining. He didn't know how to make the foreboding cinch in his stomach go away. "I'll do what I can to take care of this, I told you."
"I really appreciate that, Brennan." She relaxed as he joined her walking down the boardwalk. "You're a really good man."
What did he say to that? He was glad she thought so.
His heart skidded to a dead stop. What were the chances? Wyoming Territory was a fair distance from his past, and yet it wasn't far enough to keep his private pain behind him. That was a luck of the draw, wasn't it, that he'd come face to face with a lawman who could recognize him?
He looked up and realized he was standing in the shadows alongside the dry goods store, out of plain view of most of Main Street. He'd lost track of everything, lost in thought, but he could see the fabric store kitty corner on the alley. If only he could quiet the fear thumping through him and escape the heap of dread.
Faint traffic noise spilled over from Main, but it grew quieter as they headed along the alley and into the shade of the buildings.
"I like you, and I like that you're working for me, even if you won't admit it. It feels good to be the boss." Beauty illuminated her, and she was, to him, a pure sunbeam of gold, precious beyond imagining.
No woman had ever gotten to him like this. She turned his forged steel will, always unyielding and immoveable, to melted butter. How did she do that? She left him wanting her, and what he felt went far deeper than simple sexual desire.
"The boss." She gazed up at him full of mischief and charm. "Aren't you going to argue with me about that?"
"I wouldn't know where to begin. We both know I'm in charge around here." How she enchanted him. She'd lassoed him more surely than any rope could.
He gazed down into her adoring eyes and at her alluring, waiting-to-be-kissed mouth. Hunger for her roared through him.
