Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel

by Lynna Banning

  The train rolled smoothly forward through wheat fields and cattle ranches. The peaceful scenery soothed her to the point where she could review the events that had occurred in the mail car. One thing she couldn’t forget was the look on the sheriff’s face when she’d first drawn her pistol, part shock, and part fear. She could understand his surprise, but fear? She would bet a barrel of fancy hats this man didn’t fear outlaws or anything else.

  And then suddenly she understood. He feared for her.

  Maddie laid her hands in her lap. “I had no idea you could shoot left-handed. Why did you not tell me?”

  “You never asked. You just jumped to a conclusion. That’s another reason why you should skedaddle back to Chicago, you jump to conclusions.”

  “Oh, no, it isn’t. That is not why you don’t want me along. Is it?” She pinned him with eyes as hard as green stones. “Is it?”

  He waited a long time before answering. “Nope.”

  “Then would you tell me what the real reason is?”

  “Nope.”

  She waited. The train picked up speed and the car began to sway. “Sheriff, I deserve to know. I am waiting.”

  “Okay,” he growled. “Here it is in plain English. You are the reason I don’t want you along.”

  “Oh, for mercy’s sake! Sheriff Silver, you are irritating enough to drive a person crazy.”

  He gave her a tight smile. “But not irritating enough to drive you away.”

  She blanched. “Well, of course not. It would take more than a stubborn, bad-tempered, set-in-his-ways man to make me give up on an assignment.”

  “Damn,” Jericho muttered. What would it take, he wondered. He couldn’t forget the picture she’d made in that yellow dress, firing her shiny pistol at armed outlaws. He knew she’d been covering his back, and he should be grateful. A wrong-handed sheriff was no match for outlaws with revolvers.

  But deep inside, where he never allowed himself to venture, something began to tighten. God, he hated that. Made him sweat. He couldn’t let her continue with this Pinkerton business. If she didn’t get him killed, she’d get herself killed, and that would be even worse.

  Two hours passed in uneasy silence. Maddie crocheted carefully on what looked like a lace edging; Jericho tried not to watch her slim fingers.

  “Last stop, Portland,” the conductor boomed. “Ten minutes.”

  Maddie smoothed out her skirt, shook her petticoat ruffles into place, and stowed her crochet work in her oversize reticule. “What do we do until the train leaves for Smoke River?”

  “Find a hotel.”

  “A hotel!” Her eyes went wider and even more green. “What do we want a hotel for?”

  “Don’t know about you, but I’m grabbing an early dinner and getting some sleep.”

  She eyed him with a look that could fry eggs. “You mean we are stuck here in Portland? All night?”

  “Yep. Train east doesn’t pull out until tomorrow morning. Thought you would have researched that, Mrs. Detective. Distances out here in the West are...long.”

  Maddie set her jaw. She was hungry, she admitted. And bone tired. But the worst part was that she was surprised at this turn of events. She hated being surprised. Back in Chicago, trains ran both east and west every hour. Somehow she thought trains out here would run every hour, as they did in Chicago. It never occurred to her the distance between Smoke River and Portland would mean an overnight stay. Why, she hadn’t even brought a night robe.

  * * *

  The streets of Portland were jammed with people—merchants, travelers, ranchers with wagons full of children, some fancy men who looked like gamblers, ladies driving trim black buggies, townspeople, schoolboys, even a few dusty-looking Indians. After battling the crowds, Jericho stepped into the foyer of the Kenton Hotel with Maddie at his elbow.

  The desk clerk looked up and thumbed through his registry. “’Fraid I got no rooms left, mister. Big carnival from San Francisco in town and we got lotsa visitors. You could try the Portland Manor, just across the street.”

  The Portland Manor had only one vacancy. “Two beds, take it or leave it. Town’s full up.”

  Jericho turned to her. “That okay?”

  Maddie stared at him. “You don’t mean one room for the two of us?” she whispered. “Together? Why, that is scandalous!”

  “Huh! That’s real funny coming from a lady who said she was bored to death with her marriage.”

  “But—”

  “Look, Mrs. O’Donnell, my arm is hurting like a sonofa—billion beeves. I’m worn out and hungry enough to eat just about anything. We’re here, and we’re staying. Like the man says, take it or leave it.”

  “But—”

  “And,” he added with a lopsided smile, “you can relax. I’m too flat-out tired to threaten your virtue.”

  Her cheeks went pink. “This is highly unusual. Mr. Pinkerton will certainly hear about it.”

  “No, he won’t. You let one word slip about our arrangement and I’ll tell Pinkerton it was all your idea.”

  Maddie turned crimson, then white, then crimson again. “You would not dare!”

  “Try me.”

  Stunned into silence, Maddie watched him sign Mr. and Mrs. J. Silver on the register. She wanted to protest, but everything was all so mixed up and tense between the two of them that...well, she would just have to act as if things like this happened every day to a Pinkerton detective and make the best of it. For her next assignment she would research geographical distances more thoroughly.

  The hotel room was small but clean, with a single chest of drawers, washstand, armoire and two narrow beds jammed in an arm’s length apart. Jericho surveyed it and smiled inside. Wasn’t every day he got to sleep next to a pretty woman, even if it was in a separate bed.

  “It’ll do,” he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. “It’s been a long day. Come on, let’s go have some supper.”

  He downed two more slugs of pain remedy before entering the hotel dining room and, as he ate, his steak seemed to taste more and more delicious and the stale coffee less bitter. How much laudanum was in this pain stuff, anyway? Even Maddie’s stiff silence was less annoying.

  Fact was, even bone tired with an arm that throbbed, he was beginning to feel pretty good. Who cared if she wanted to keep quiet? It was a rare woman who could talk a blue streak most of the time but keep her mouth closed when it was necessary. He had to give her some credit.

  The waiter removed their plates and brought more coffee and some tea for Maddie. “You folks going to the carnival? Got some real pretty gir—uh, horses, I hear.”

  “Horses?” Maddie’s eyes took on a sparkle he hadn’t seen before.

  Jericho wasn’t interested in the girls the waiter tried not to mention, but horses? That was another matter. No matter how weary he felt, he always liked looking at good horseflesh.

  “Oh, could we?” Maddie begged. “Please?”

  He stared at her. He’d never heard her use the word “please” before. So the city girl liked horses, did she? Well, why not have a look?

  The Summer Carnival was a six-block section of the main street, blocked off at either end. Admission was a nickel, and Jericho gallantly dropped two nickels into the burly ticket taker’s palm, one for him and one for Maddie.

  She nodded her thanks. “Where are the horses?”

  “Yonder.” The man tipped his graying head over his shoulder. “Behind the gypsy fortune-teller.”

  Maddie wheeled in the direction indicated and started off down the walkway. She was in such a hurry, Jericho found he couldn’t keep up with her. He trailed her past the green-painted ice-cream stand and a man poking flaming swords down his throat to a roped-off area where a half dozen horses waited patiently for riders.

  “Oh,” Maddie breath
ed. “How beautiful they are!”

  He’d never heard such awe in her voice, but he had to agree. “Probably from a ranch nearby. They’d never look this good if they’d been herded up from Sacramento, or even shipped by rail.”

  Maddie caught his good arm and pointed. “Look at that one, with the cream-colored mane.”

  He’d been looking at that animal; she was a beauty, all right. A mare, maybe three or four years old, a golden-tan color with cream mane and tail. “You’ve got a good eye for horseflesh, Maddie.”

  “In addition to the bank, my father owned a fancy riding stable in Chicago. All the society ladies took equestrienne lessons.”

  Jericho moved in close to the palomino mare, let her smell his neck and chest.

  “I do want to ride him.”

  “Her,” he corrected. “Mares don’t have—” He swallowed the rest. “Sure, if you want to.”

  She sidled up next to the horse and cautiously laid one finger on its nose. Then she looked up at Jericho with a yearning in her eyes that made his stomach flip.

  “Could I really ride him? Her, I mean?”

  The wrangler led the animal to the center of the roped-off corral. “She’s real gentle, Miss. You ever ridden before?”

  “N-no, not much. My father never allowed me to ride.”

  “Well, then, your man here can hold the rope so’s the mare can step real slowlike in a circle around him.”

  Jericho walked her close to the animal and raised one knee so she could mount. “Put your foot here, Maddie, and I’ll boost you up.”

  “Boost me? Is that proper?”

  He laughed. She was one citified lady, all right. “Probably not,” he intoned for her ears only. “But seein’ as how we’re sleeping together...”

  She sent him a dark look, then edged closer. Gripping his bad arm, she lifted her tiny little shoe onto his knee and he hoisted her up. He kinda regretted that she didn’t need more of a boost to her posterior; he enjoyed laying his hand on that nicely rounded behind.

  His elbow gave a sharp twinge, which he ignored. The wrangler tossed him the lead rope and Jericho led the mare in a circle around the ring. Maddie kept a death grip on the saddle horn, but she made quite a picture in her pouffy hat and yellow shirtwaist, even with a black-rimmed bullet hole in one sleeve.

  She rode around him a dozen times. Every so often she freed one hand and leaned forward to tentatively pat the mare’s neck.

  “Good girl. Good horse. My, you are beautiful. You look like a big dish of coffee ice cream with caramel sauce.”

  Jericho laughed out loud. After her last circuit she drew back on the reins and the horse stopped. “How do I get down?”

  He dropped the lead rope and strode toward her, intending to hold out his arms. Oh, damn, he remembered he didn’t have two arms. Instead, he reached up and slid his good hand around her waist.

  “Bring your other leg over the saddle and then jump down.” He gave her a little tug.

  She went pale, but she lifted her leg over the saddle. Her skirt kicked up, revealing a froth of petticoats, and when she slid off she stumbled hard against him. For just an instant he felt her soft breasts brush against his chest.

  Lord in heaven.

  “Oh, that was wonderful,” she cried. “Wonderful.”

  Jericho groaned. He thought so, too, but it wasn’t the horse he admired. It was her.

  Maddie practically danced out of the corral. “Such a beautiful animal. You simply cannot imagine how happy riding her makes me!”

  Jericho blinked. “You’re that happy about a horse?”

  “Oh, yes. I sense a kindred spirit in the animal.”

  “That never happened before?”

  “No. Never. As I said, Papa never let me visit his fancy riding stable. I’m going to call her Sundae.”

  “Kinda odd to fall in love with a horse, Maddie.” He meant it as a joke, but her face immediately looked grave.

  “All my life I have felt different. Alone. Even when I was married.” She gave a little half sob. “Then,” she said in a voice so low he could scarcely hear her, “it was even worse.”

  Jericho nodded. He knew what she meant. In fact, he knew exactly what she meant, but he was sure surprised at her words. “Yeah, I can understand makin’ friends with a horse. Glad you enjoyed it.”

  Well, yes and no, Jericho admitted. He found himself a mite irritated at her feelings for the animal. Almost as if he was...

  Jealous? Of a horse? Get a grip, mister. This woman is not yours.

  He’d never been a fool about a woman and he wasn’t about to start now, especially with this one. Ever since he’d lost his friend Little Bear, he’d kept his heart protected inside a safe, sturdy iron cage.

  Maddie drifted to the fortune-teller’s tent, a red-and-gold India print with a hand-lettered sign pinned to one flap: Madame Sofia, Gypsy Fortune-Teller.

  Maddie was already seated at the scarf-draped table across from the wrinkled old woman and was stretching out her palm.

  He tried his darnedest not to listen, but one word sliced into his brain like a shard of glass. Chicago.

  Maddie rose from the table, an odd look on her face. “Your turn, Jericho. Let Madame Sofia tell your fortune.”

  “What for? I can pretty much see my life from here on out.” He’d be a good sheriff and he’d never get involved with a woman. At least, not until he was too old to care.

  Maddie sped across the grass to his side. “I dare you.”

  She tugged on his good arm.

  Damn, she was more persuasive than he’d bargained for. Finally, shamed into it, he seated himself before the gypsy woman, slid his right arm out of the sling, and opened his hand, palm up. The old woman bent over it, stroking the lines with her gnarled forefinger. After a moment she looked up into his face.

  “You have known great sorrow,” she said in her gravelly voice. Then she reached out and touched his face. “What comes will not be easy.”

  “What won’t?” he said without thinking.

  The gypsy smiled. “This.” She cut her gaze to where Maddie waited.

  His face set, Jericho paid the gypsy and propelled Maddie away from the tent. Twenty yards further, he stopped with a jerk and gazed upward.

  “What the hell is that?” He squinted to read the signboard. “Turkish Up-and-Down Wheel.”

  Directly in back of the sign stood the strangest contraption he had ever seen, a grid of steel bars with a bucket-type seat at each end. A man in baggy pants and a pointed red hat cranked on a gearlike arrangement; as the bars turned, the seats rose up and then came slowly down.

  “Oh, look! Could we...?”

  “Could we what? Ride that thing? Probably break both our necks.”

  “Oh, please? Just this once?” She sent him a pleading look.

  Damn, she was sure hard to refuse. Jericho shrugged and moved into the ticket line. A few minutes later they were side by side in the cushioned tublike seats, and the wheel began to rotate with squeaks and groans. Their seat swung high above the carnival grounds.

  Maddie caught her breath. She could see for miles, across the entire city with its streetlamps, the tall, lighted buildings, the bridges arching over the smooth-flowing river spread out below her.

  “Isn’t that just beautiful,” she sighed.

  He laughed and she was amazed. She had never heard him laugh before.

  “More beautiful than your horse, Sundae?”

  “More beautiful than anything. It feels as if I can see the whole world and all the little lives down below. It makes me feel...hungry. And...” She hesitated. “Sad, in a way.”

  Jericho stared at her. It was getting harder and harder to see her as a Pinkerton agent from Chicago. Maddie O’Donnell was looking more and more like a
young, pretty woman who was warm and alive and just plain human.

  On the other hand, she knew some fancy Japanese judo moves and she could shoot a pistol accurately enough to flip a man’s weapon out of his hand. She wasn’t like any young, pretty woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  The chairs creaked and dipped and rose again. “You are a puzzle, Maddie.”

  She twisted her head toward him. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He looked away, focusing on the tiny carnival lights far below.

  “Am I not measuring up?”

  Hell, she measured up, all right. Worse than that, he was beginning to like her. God, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “It’s not that,” he said slowly. “You’re plenty brave. And you’re damn smart. You could probably shoot the sulfur tip off a matchstick with that shiny pistol of yours, but...”

  “But what? You must admit I have helped. Just a few hours ago I kept you from taking a bullet in your back.

  “Okay, Mrs. Detective, it’s like this. I don’t want to be grateful to you. I don’t want to be obligated to you for anything. I don’t want to need you along with me and I sure don’t want to enjoy your company.”

  Which he did, he admitted. More than he wanted to.

  “Well, then, what do you want?”

  Good question. “Damned if I know.”

  “What does that mean, exactly? Have you changed your mind about me? About having me along?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Well, what, then? I deserve an answer, Jericho. An honest one.”

  “Okay, here’s an honest answer. I want to... I want to keep you safe. I don’t want to feel responsible for you.”

  She turned away, her eyes shiny, and suddenly he regretted every word he’d said. Maybe he’d hurt her pride.

  It shouldn’t matter, he told himself.

  But it did.

  Chapter Six

  The climb up the hotel stairs seemed interminable with Maddie swaying enticingly ahead of him. If he quickened his pace he could reach out his hand and—

  “Will the horses still be there tomorrow morning?”