by Jodi Thomas
The deputy, who looked like he’d been sleeping in the back, said he hadn’t heard from anyone. He also told her not to worry about the drifters. He’d run a few of them out of town last night.
Em moved on to the bank and then to Tamela’s mother’s dress shop. She’d never figured out how Tamela could be so shy and quiet and her mother such a chatterbox. On second thought, Em was surprised Tamela got enough practice in to learn to talk.
When she finally broke free, she ran toward the train station.
Ten minutes later she was furious. It had taken her a little longer to do her errands than she thought, but Lewton should have been waiting for her. She’d paced the platform twice and he was nowhere in sight. For two bits she’d leave him behind and let him find his own way home.
At least the rain had stopped, or, more precisely, decided to hang in the air like thick fog. It occurred to her that this tagalong stranger might have gotten lost. After all, the town had a dozen stores, three cafés, and several saloons. They even had three hotels. With her luck one of the drifters had spotted him as an easy target and conked him on the head. He was probably lying in an ally half dead, and somehow Duncan and the others would blame her.
Another ten minutes passed and Em began planning ways to kill this son of a wealthy family.
A tall stranger stepped on the platform. His high-topped boots stomped along the planks, drawing Em’s attention. He was dressed in dark brown from his well-made Stetson to his lined leather riding coat. When his open coat flapped in the wind, it revealed a tan vest beneath the same color as his gloves.
He reminded her of someone.
When he was within five feet of Em, he raised his head and tapped his hat with two fingers in salute.
Em froze. “Lewt?”
He frowned. “You said buy something appropriate. Doesn’t this pass muster?” He removed his hat and made a low bow, reminding her of what a buccaneer might have looked like a few hundred years ago.
She looked him up and down. The difference between Lewt in a city suit and this man was astonishing. “You’ll do,” she snapped, angry that she should care what he wore. He was still dumb as a rock about work and near worthless on a horse. “We need to be getting back. We’ve wasted half the day already.”
He didn’t argue but simply followed her to the horses. A sack hung off his saddle horn. She didn’t ask what was in the bag as they headed home. More clothes, she guessed.
“You going to stay mad at me all day?” he asked as he swung into the saddle.
“You were late.”
He didn’t apologize; he just thought about it, then said, “So you are going to stay mad.”
“You’re not planning to say you’re sorry.”
He smiled. “Would it help?”
“No.”
“Then I might as well save my breath.”
When they reached the trees at the edge of town, she told him to put on the blindfold again.
He passed her his hat while he tied on the red bandanna, then leaned over and reached out for his hat. His hand bumped her arm.
“Sorry,” he said as he found the hat. “I didn’t know your arm was there.”
“Forget it,” she said, reaching for his reins. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
Before she could turn the horses, a shadow of a man moved out from behind one of the trees. He was dressed in the ragged clothes of a down-on-his-luck cowhand. “Interesting game you two are playing,” he said, looking up at them with bloodshot eyes. “You wouldn’t be kidnapping this man, would you, kid?”
Em saw the gun in the stranger’s hand and froze. If she spoke, he’d know she was a woman. Maybe it was better for her if he thought she was a young man. Her braid was hidden beneath her hat, and the slicker covered her body. Unfortunately it also kept her Colt out of easy reach.
She felt, more than saw, Lewt nudge his horse forward, blocking most of the drifter’s view of her. Moving only her eyes, she risked a quick glance at Lewt. He’d pulled off the blindfold as if he thought he could face the man down with a stare.
She almost yelled for him to get back. He wasn’t armed. But then she saw his face.
His features were hard and unyielding almost as if he were the one stalking prey, but his words came calm, casual. “We’re just testing my skills at direction, friend, but I appreciate the concern. We didn’t mean to disturb your sleep.”
“I’m not your friend,” the man shouted. He wavered from side to side as if still drunk on last night’s whiskey.
To Em’s surprise, Lewton Paterson smiled and said, “You don’t want to be my enemy, sir.”
The man looked as confused as Emily felt. Was Lewt threatening him or advising him? If Lewt wasn’t going to be frightened, a robbery might not work unless the man before them was a cold killer. She could see the man stagger, unsure what to do next. He pushed the gun high as if to make sure Lewt saw it.
Lewt said casually, “Put down the weapon before someone gets hurt.”
For a second, the barrel lowered a few inches, and then the drifter changed his mind and waved it.
“I think I’ll take the horse before I go,” the stranger said, trying to keep his voice steady. “When the deputy told me to leave town last night, he didn’t seem to care that I was walking.”
“I don’t think I can give her up.” Lewt patted his mount. “The horse is not mine to give.”
“Get off that horse or I’ll shoot you off it.”
Em fought down a scream. No wonder Lewt’s family never came out in the daytime. They were too dumb to survive in the real world.
Just as she reached for his arm, she heard Lewt say, “All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Lewt stood in the saddle and pulled one foot from the stirrup. “I was really hoping we could be friends. It’s always so much better for one of us.”
What happened next was a blur to Em. Lewt seemed to make a great show of swinging his leg over the horse. The tail of his coat flew in the air like a huge bat wing. As he leaned, his free hand moved down the side of his leg, still in the stirrup. A heartbeat later, a knife flew through the air and landed in the robber’s hand.
The stranger yelled in pain as he dropped the gun he’d been pointing at them.
Lewt’s new boots hit the ground. In two steps he was in front of the robber. He picked up the bumbling bandit’s gun with one hand and retrieved his knife with the other.
The outlaw screamed as the blade pulled back through his flesh and his knees buckled beneath him. He cupped his bleeding hand in his unharmed palm. “Look what you did!” he wailed. “It went all the way through.” He cried and babbled on about how bad it hurt. Blood filled his unharmed hand and was dripping in the dirt.
Lewt jerked the bandanna hanging loosely around his neck and began wrapping the wound. “Sorry about that, but I did warn you.”
The stranger looked like he might pass out. He glared, glassy-eyed, at Lewt as if he could no longer understand the language.
“Come on. We’ll get you to a doctor.” Lewt helped the robber onto his horse, climbed up behind him, and looked at Em for guidance. “Lead the way,” he snapped, as if waking her with a slap. “There must be a doctor in town.”
Em jerked into action. She kicked the horse and rushed toward a big white house at the edge of town. There, her aunt had run a small clinic for almost twenty years; Em knew the shortcut and she took it as fast as she thought Lewt could manage.
Five minutes later they were in the doctor’s office. The nurse, Bonnie Faye, started to greet Em when she hit the door but reconsidered when she saw the blood on the man who followed her in. She began barking orders to all, including the doctor. This was an emergency, and emergencies were Bonnie Faye’s specialty.
Dr. Hutchison was an old man who usually helped Aunt Sage out only occasionally, but with Sage gone, he took over in the office. He’d seen enough to no longer be curious. He simply directed them into the inner office, cleaned the entry and exit
wounds, put three stitches in the palm and four on the back of the robber’s hand without bothering with any painkiller, and wrapped the wound.
The robber screamed awhile and then cried.
Em watched as Lewt stepped to the doorway and talked softly to the nurse. The city slicker probably couldn’t take the sight of blood, even if he was the one who caused the bleeding. All she could figure out was the guy must have some luck because he didn’t look like the kind of man who’d have skill with a knife.
“You were lucky, Barnaby,” the doc said as he tied off the bandage. “In a few weeks you’ ll be good as new if you keep that hand clean.”
The disheartened outlaw nodded. “It don’t matter none. The deputy is going to shoot me as soon as he realizes I’m in town. He told me to get out and never come back.” He raised his head enough to stare at Lewt. “You’re probably going to turn me in for attempted robbery.”
“No,” Lewt said simply. “I see it as just a misunderstanding between friends.”
“We’re not actually in town, Barnaby. Town line is at the road.”
Lewt nodded at Bonnie and moved closer to the bandit. “You’ll have to work off the doctor’s fee. The nurse says it’ll take you two weeks, but you can sleep in their barn and she’ll feed you two meals a day as long as you put in a good day’s work.”
The tall nurse stepped inside. “I agreed to this, Barnaby, on two conditions. You don’t step foot off the property or take a drink until the bill is paid.”
Em raised an eyebrow. She’d heard her aunt make several such deals to men who couldn’t pay. Usually if they stayed sober a few weeks they looked good enough to find a job in town or at one of the ranches around. This time she wondered if Bonnie or Lewt had thought of the plan.
Before the nurse could get chatty and give her away, Em stormed past Lewt and said, “We’d better be going. We’ve still got a day’s work to do.”
He raised an eyebrow but followed.
When they were at their horses, she twirled toward him so suddenly the man almost slammed into her. “Want to tell me what happened back there in the trees? Like for one, where did that knife come from?”
“Look, Em, can we just forget it happened? What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t very well kill a man for being down on his luck. I didn’t think he would have fired that old gun, but I wasn’t sure. From the looks of it, I’d say the weapon was as likely to go off in his hand as at us.”
“I was thinking of killing him for trying to steal a horse,” Em cut in, “but you? You wound him and then help him. I swear, the man could have shot us both and you worried about his cut.”
Lewt took a long breath. “Can we just act like it never happened? The guy was too thin and hungry and desperate to be able to kill us. Even if he’d got off a shot, the odds were he wouldn’t have hit us.”
She glared at him. Who was this man who worried about hurting a robber? A nut, she decided. A rich, from a good family, nut.
To her surprise, he pulled out his watch and checked the time. Now he was worried about the time. Not an hour ago when she was waiting for him, but now when they’d already wasted half the day.
“I know we’re on your time schedule, Em, but do you think we could stop in at one of those cafés in town and have a meal before you try to work me to death again? I’m starving.” He hesitated, and added, “I’ll buy.”
She opened her mouth to say no, then reconsidered. It was almost noon. They’d never make it back to the ranch in time for lunch, and the two eggs she’d had at dawn seemed a far memory. “All right. You’ve already wasted an hour knifing and doctoring a bandit, we might as well take time to eat.”
They turned around and rode back into town. Lewt stopped at the first café and waited for her to swing down.
She walked in ahead of him and took the table in the corner, placing her back to the door. He circled around and took the chair facing her. When the waitress passed, he ordered two of the specials with coffee.
Emily kept her head low and her hat on.
“You eat here often?” Lewt asked.
“Never,” she answered. “How’d you know what to order?”
“If there’s no board and no menu, they always have a special. If you never eat here, no one is likely to recognize you. This kind of place tends to have the same folks every day.”
“If I keep my hat and coat on, they’ll think I’m a man.”
Lewt laughed. “If you keep them on, I’ll think you’re a man.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I think that’s why you’re so much fun to be around. No matter what I do or how hard I try, you’re still not going to like me, right?”
“Right,” she answered.
“So I guess there’s little chance you’ll help me figure out which one of the McMurray sisters to marry?”
“Right.”
The waitress sloshed their coffee on the table as she slammed the cups down and rushed past.
Lewt tried again. “Come on, Em. Can’t we be friends?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “The last friend of yours has a half dozen stitches in his hand.”
Lewt shoved his hat back and smiled at her. “You’re right. I guess I’m a dangerous man to know.”
“Why do you want to marry one of the girls, anyway? There must be a hundred girls in any big city you could marry.”
“I need a wife,” he said simply. “A good wife.”
After a few moments he leaned on the table and whispered, “I’ve got to have a lady from a good family. I need to get married right away.”
She met his gaze. “In a family way, are you?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
Em decided she liked this strange man who must have been raised by rich moles and who could throw a knife better than anyone she’d ever seen. “I’ll help you learn ranching, but that’s all. You’ll have to court the girls all by yourself.”
“Fair enough.”
CHAPTER 12
LEWT USED HIS OWN HANDKERCHIEF TO COVER HIS eyes for the ride back, thinking that riding through the mountains blindfolded was about the dumbest idea he’d ever heard.
He spent most of the time asking questions about the ranch, the land, and the history of the family. Now and then he asked a question about one of the McMurray girls, but Em never gave him anything that would help. In fact, she seemed to know less about them than he’d observed. She sounded surprised when he said Beth was unsure of herself and he wondered why Rose worried herself sick trying to make everyone happy.
They came back through the far north pasture. When Em told him to pull his blindfold off, the sight before him almost took his breath away. Horses for as far up the hill as he could see. He guessed a hundred, maybe more, and all beautiful.
He knew this was a working ranch that had raised horses for fifty years, but watching them graze and run across the land made him think they were living wild.
“They’re really something,” Lewt whispered.
“That they are. The first McMurray came to this land with a dozen. There are cattle down by the river and we grow wheat and corn on land on the other side of that hill, but here, in the heart of the ranch, we care for the horses.”
The weather was sunny after the rain, leaving the air feeling frosty. Lewt waited for her orders, but for a few minutes she just watched the animals as if they were hers.
Finally, she turned to him, all business. “There’s a storm coming in. I can feel it in the air. We ride the borders of the ranch until dark.”
His body had taken a beating on the horse yesterday, but this morning when he’d climbed back on for more torture, he’d found the ride easier. Thanks to her constant shouting, he’d learned to distribute his weight more evenly and control the animal with far less effort. She’d told him it was probably far more comfortable for the horse, but to his surprise it was also more comfortable for him. His new heavy twill trousers and boots
protected his legs, and the gloves buffered the blisters on his palms.
When she shot off toward the west, he was only a few lengths behind. They rode what she called the border, as though Whispering Mountain were its own country. They looked for breaks in the fence or places where the animals might get themselves in trouble. They stopped three times to mend a fence and once to check out tracks. She told him that once in a while big cats would come down from far back in the hills looking for food in winter.
Lewt didn’t like to think about what one of the mountain lions could do to a newborn horse. He was starting to understand why she cared so much for the beautiful animals and why she wore a gun to keep them safe.
When he bumped her for the third time as he straightened the fence, he stopped suddenly and dropped the pole he’d been holding.
“What are you doing? We don’t have it in place yet.” She straightened, angry at their wasted effort.
“I’ve had enough,” he said simply. “Every time I accidentally touch you, I feel you freeze in panic or bristle like a porcupine. Em, I’m not going to attack you or hurt you. Even if I thought about it you’d shoot me, so why would I even try?”
“We need to get this fence fixed.”
“We need to get this settled between us.” Neither of them moved. “Hit me, Em. Hit me hard. Get some of that anger out. I don’t know if you’re mad at all men or just me, but I’m here. I’m your target.”
“I don’t want to hit you.” She straightened.
“Yes, you do. I got a feeling you want to hit every man in the world, so you might as well start with me.” He widened his stance. “Hit me. We’re not finishing this fence until you get this out of your system, and I seem to be the only male near enough for you to hate.”
She glared at him, raised her hand, and slapped his shoulder.
He didn’t budge. “Hit me hard!”
All the anger she’d stored since she was a child huddled in a corner of her parents’ bedroom exploded, and she swung hard into his shoulder.
He staggered a half step backward and waited for another blow.
