Colt, who had arrived at the homestead a few minutes ahead of the wagon with Boone, raced up to them. “Mama, come see the grizzly marks on the tree.”
Maggie stood, cursing her fashionable attire that left her stranded on the high perch until someone could assist her to the ground. “Grizzly bear?”
Colt curled his fingers and clawed the air and roared bear-like.
Boone strolled to Colt’s side and patted his head. “The marks are old.”
“Ox got the scare of his life,” Garrett said. “He stepped out of the privy two weeks ago and ran into a granddaddy of a grizzly.”
Ox shrugged a meaty shoulder. “I leaped back inside the outhouse and stayed there until Garrett came looking for me and told me the bear was long gone.”
Seth sauntered up. “Ox is big, but he’s quick.”
Colt’s eyes were wide with wonder. “I want to see a grizzly bear.”
Maggie rubbed her arms against a chill breeze. The vast, rugged wilderness was equal parts enchanting and frightening. “Nanny Bri and I will be keeping a close eye out for bears.”
Colt nodded. “Nanny Bri will yell at the bear if he tries to eat me.”
Garrett tousled Colt’s hair. “Do you think Nanny Bri would protect me from a grizzly?”
“You like to tease,” Bri said, swatting his arm.
Garrett glanced up through the bangs hanging over his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Blushing, Bri took hold of Colt’s hand. “Where were those bear marks?”
Colt proudly led the way, as Garrett, Seth, and Ox followed Bri like bees drawn to honey.
Jack left the shade of the wagon and licked Boone’s hand.
“The boys and I will keep a close watch on Colt,” Boone said, rubbing Jack’s head. “And Jack has chased away a grizzly or two in his time.”
“Colt isn’t wild or naughty,” she said, hiking her skirt and searching for a toehold on the edge of the buckboard. The first thing she planned to do upon reaching Sweet Creek Ranch was to sacrifice one of her outfits to fashioning suitable riding clothes. “But his curiosity can lead him astray. The West is so different from St. Louis. The dangers are—”
Boone’s large hands circled her waist, he lifted her out of the wagon, and she slid down the length of his lean, muscled body.
Her breath hitched. “You could have warned me first.”
His warm breath feathered her nape. “You aren’t frightened of me, are you, darling?”
Heat flared in her depths. “Don’t call me darling.”
His dark eyes were unreadable. “What do you want me to call you?”
“Maggie.” Memories of his rasping voice uttering “Margaret” over and over washed through her. No, no, no. She had to banish the enticing memories. Boone was a gunslinger. She wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. “Maggie, plain Maggie will do.”
“There’s nothing plain about you, Margaret,” he purred.
She backpedaled and her slipper landed on a cowboy boot. “Excuse me,” she said, spinning around.
“Did I interrupt something?” Seth asked, the devil of a gleam in his eyes.
“No,” she and Boone exclaimed too strongly.
“Excuse me,” Boone said, grasping the bridle of the horse team and leading them away.
Whistling, Seth followed.
Maggie smoothed her windswept chignon.
Colt came barreling toward her. “Mama, Ox said I could help water the horses.”
Distracted, Maggie nodded. She wouldn’t allow her weaknesses to rule her. Boone Haven was a weakness she planned to resist wholeheartedly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Leaving Garrett’s place early the next day, Boone and the travel party reached Sweet Creek Ranch around noon. His chest swelled at the sight of the roomy clapboard ranch house guarded by the rugged Big Horn Mountains. The sun sparkled off the rushing waters of the swollen stream. The homey smell of wood smoke drifted on the light breeze. Ty and Ella and the second-chance boys Billy, Juan, and Tucker lined the wide veranda porch, waving and smiling.
Lightning headed toward the shelter of the two-story barn, but Boone redirected him to the porch. The wagon creaked to a stop.
Jack jumped down from the wooden bed. Lame from too much walking the day before, he hobbled up the stairs. The Haven clan showered Jack with affection and welcomed his sloppy dog kisses.
Boone hated to admit Jack was growing too old for a life on the road, but couldn’t deny what his eyes told him.
Colt leaned back into Boone. “Is this where you live?”
“No,” Boone said, regret washing over him anew. This had been his home until he’d been foolish enough to take up his guns and ride away, seeking to outrun his hateful past. One of six boys taken in by Malcolm and Viola Haven, Boone wouldn’t have any family or known goodness and love if it wasn’t for the kindness of Pa Malcolm and Ma Viola. He’d left home at eighteen, killed his first man by nineteen, and gained a reputation as a deadly gunslinger before the age of twenty-five. Pa and Ma never criticized, but they worried. And four years ago they’d been gunned down by lawless men seeking revenge against Boone. Since then, he seldom came home and never stayed more than a day or two. Ty and Ella kept encouraging him to give up his wandering ways and settle on the ranch. But he knew better than anyone, trouble followed gunslingers sure as water flowed downhill. He refused to put his family in harm’s way again.
He squeezed Colt’s shoulder. The protectiveness he felt toward his son bordered on the insane. Boone had never experienced anything half so intense. “What do you think of Sweet Creek?”
Colt tipped his head back and grinned up at him. “Nanny Bri won’t like so many cowboys, but I do.”
Ty ambled down the porch stairs, carrying Little Malcolm. “Howdy. Are you going to introduce us to this handsome youngster?”
Colt sat forward. “I’m Colt Boone Haven. My daddy let me ride all the way here on Lightning.”
“Pleased to meet you, Colt,” Ty said, even as he studied Boone for a reaction.
Boone had never felt more proud. “My son is looking forward to a short visit at the ranch.”
Ella joined Ty, one of her newborn twins cradled in the crook of her arm. Billy had charge of the other baby. He and Juan and Tucker cheered the announcement. Ella wore a pleased smile as she looked between Boone and the wagon. “The more, the merrier.”
Boone glanced back. Maggie stepped toward them, wearing a perfectly composed face and moving with the grace of an antelope. Boone cleared throat. He doubted she was looking forward to the awkward introductions any more than he was, but her chin was held high.
Maggie stopped beside Lightning and touched Colt’s knee. “Hello, I’m Maggie, Colt’s mother. I hope we’re not imposing.”
Ella bounced the baby in one arm and looped her free hand around Ty’s elbow. “I couldn’t be more pleased to have extra womenfolk about to ride herd on these cowboys.”
Maggie's tremulous smile firmed. “Colt’s nanny, Brigetta, excels at putting cowboys in their place.”
After an exchange of proper introductions and pleasantries, Ella raised a brow at Boone. “Do I need to prepare one bedroom or two?”
“I’ll be sleeping in the barn, like usual,” Boone said, embarrassed for Maggie.
Maggie’s face was red as her strawberry-kissed lips. “I’m here for Colt’s sake.”
“Boone wouldn’t divorce Miss Maggie otherwise,” Seth said.
Boone bit back a curse and glared a warning.
“Mind your manners, sweetie,” Ella said, a note of firm reprimand in her voice.
Brigetta huffed and set her fists on her hips, looking like she wanted to clobber Seth over the head. “Who gave you permission to drop the beans?”
“Who spilled beans?” Colt asked.
Maggie waved off her concern. “He didn’t mean any harm, Bri.”
Brigetta scowled at Seth. “This isn’t any of your business.”
Seth’s shoulders hunched
. “Sorry, Miss Maggie.”
“Mr. Boone is married?” Billy asked, from his perch on the porch.
The astonishment on Juan’s doleful face and Tucker’s angelic face matched Ty and Ella’s wide-eyed wonder.
Shifting in place, Boone wondered how the conversation had gone off the tracks so quickly.
“I can explain,” Maggie said.
Boone wasn’t having this discussion in the middle of the yard. The cats and chickens and sheep would likely be staring by the time they finished the story. “The explanations can wait until after we care for the horses and get settled in.”
“Sweet biscuits and jam,” Ella exclaimed. “It’s good to see you have some sense in that stubborn head of yours.”
“Little Malcolm and I will give Seth a hand with the horses,” Ty said, most likely with the aim of having a long talk with Seth.
Boone doubted the lecture would help. Seth was restless with ranch life and full of angry. Boone had felt the same way at that age. Neither of them would ever be cattle ranchers. Boone just hoped Seth chose an easier path than he had.
“I want to help too,” Colt said.
“We’ve gawked at our company long enough,” Ella said, taking charge. “Y’all go on about your business.”
Soon Ty, Seth, Brigetta, Colt, and Little Malcolm were on their way to the barn, the second-chance boys were busy sprucing up the guest room, while Ella fed the babies and put them to bed.
Charged with brewing a pot of coffee and making biscuits for the company, Boone held out an elbow for Maggie. “You heard General Ella. You are to put your feet up and rest.”
Maggie avoided his eyes. “Surely, there must be something I can do to help. I could set the table. I know how to make coffee and biscuits.”
The weight of her hand on his arm was distracting as all get out. He led her up the porch stairs. “I don’t like anyone else’s coffee.”
“Oh yes, I remember. You…” The color drained from her face.
Memories of the few intoxicating days and nights spent in bed with her flashed through his mind. His blood heated. He threw open the door to the house and waved Maggie inside. “Blast it,” he mumbled. Being alone together was dangerous. Focus on Colt. That’s what he needed to do. That, and keep a safe distance from Maggie.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maggie ought to be exhausted from three days’ worth of jouncing travel by wagon over rough trails, but her nerves had hummed to life upon arriving at Sweet Creek Ranch and the hectic introduction to Boone’s family. Ty and Ella couldn’t have been nicer and from all appearances they were salt-of-the-earth folks.
Boone led her through the door of the ranch house and directed her to a sturdy pine table with benches long enough to seat a baseball team, then he set about brewing up a fresh pot of coffee. Invigorated at the notion of exploring the foreign world of a western ranch, she wandered toward a chimney made from polished stones and gazed appreciatively at the beautiful beam ceiling.
Boone scooped coffee beans as black as his snug-fitting black vest into a well-worn grinder. His lean, muscled back to her, he cranked the metal handle, crushing the tumble of beans. A rich aroma filled the air.
The urge to lose herself in the dark tempest that was Boone electrified her blood.
When she and Frank Jr. had first married, he’d taken her to a traveling circus and she’d been beyond excited to catch her first glimpse of a giraffe and lions. A hot sweltering day, boiling thunderclouds had rolled over the city park as they approached the colorful tents.
Frank Jr. urged her to run for the cover, but the crash of the thunder and streaks of lightning sent a head-to-toe thrill through her. She’d broken away, raised her arms to the heavens, and danced through the tree-lined paths, the rain pouring on her uplifted face and the wind whipping through her coiffured hair. Frank Jr. had laughed until he cried and called her his reckless little fool.
She dug her fingernails into her palms. That was then. She was a different person now. A kindergarten teacher and mother. She needed to pull herself together, and keep reminding herself this attraction to Boone was more dangerous than the wildest typhoon.
She paced back to the table. “Did you rescue Seth, Billy, Juan, and…I don’t recall the youngest boy’s name.”
Placing a blue and white speckled coffee pot on the squat cook stove to heat, Boone scooped flour from an earthen crock. “Tucker. He just got here. I came across the little fellow in Fort Smith, Arkansas.”
Boone was a mass of contradictions—a deadly gunslinger who rescued homeless boys, and cooked biscuits, and brewed the wonderful ambrosia he called cowboy coffee. “That’s very good of you.”
He shrugged off the compliment. “I find ‘em and bring ‘em to the ranch. Ty and Ella do the real rescuing.”
“Surely, you have more of a hand here than that. What about the picture I saw of you and Buck in the Globe-Democrat?”
He arched a black brow. “That’s how you found me?
Nodding, she fought the urge to squirm like Colt when she’d caught him building a palace for his tin soldiers using her pretty perfume bottles.
“Buck roped me into that,” Boone said, voice chock-full of impatience. “Thought the cattle barons would think twice about intimidating homestead ranchers if they had to worry about a gunslinger.”
When she and Boone had married, they’d planned to make a life in California. She yearned to ask him if he’d made the trip and returned, or if he couldn’t bear to go after his fateful run-in with Lady Lily, Female Bounty Hunter. She picked up a salt shaker from the table and set it back down. “It’s obvious you love Sweet Creek and your family. Do you plan to accept Buck’s offer to become sheriff?”
He stirred the biscuit batter with slow stokes. “What’s it to you?”
His lonely wandering made her sad. “I never knew my father. And my mama died a long time ago. Colt and Brigetta are all I have. I’d give anything to belong to a big family like yours.”
His brow knotted. “You and Colt don’t have no menfolk watching over you?”
She did worry about Colt growing up without a male figure in his life. “St. Louis isn’t the Wild West. We live in a good part of the city, with friendly, helpful neighbors.”
He plopped batter onto a cast iron biscuit pan. “You dress like you come from money, or did you earn it bounty hunting?”
Her spine stiffened. She’d received a small inheritance after Frank Reed’s considerable debts had been paid off. Enough funds to run a small household while she studied to be a teacher. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“You made it my business when you came here.”
“I told you I didn’t want your money.”
He shoved the biscuit pan into the oven, and prowled toward her. “I have plenty in the bank.”
“I don’t know why I hoped you’d feel more than obligation toward Colt. I never was a good judge of men.”
Boone loomed over her, his warm breath brushing her cheek. “Believe me, it’s safer this way.”
She poked his rock-hard chest. “Safer? For you, but not for Colt.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to care about Colt the way a father should care about his son.”
A pained look crossed his face. “I feel for Colt what I feel for my brothers and my Pa and Ma. But I can’t have nothing to do with him on account of men like the Arkansas Kid.”
For Colt’s sake, she couldn’t be happier. “Would you pay Colt visits? I know it would be a long journey for you. But you’re used to traveling.”
“Blast it! Didn’t you hear me? My presence is a danger to you and Colt and my family. With the Arkansas Kid on the prowl I’ll need to cut Colt’s visit to the ranch short, get the divorce business in Buffalo over quickly, and see you safely on a train back East. Then I’ll clear out of Wyoming.”
That gave her pause. “You really believe that man would hurt Colt or your family?”
“
Colt is family now. And I’m deadly serious. Bad men killed my Pa and Ma to settle a score with me. It’s best for everyone if I stay far away from those I care for.”
“You won’t regret allowing Colt into your heart. He’s already growing attached to you.”
Boone raked his finger through his coal-black hair. “Are you being willfully pig-headed? My presence is a danger to you and Colt. I’ll write letters and send money to help with food and clothes, but that’s all I can promise.”
Of the many qualities she ascribed to Boone fear of anything or anyone was not among them. “You’re positive danger will follow you all the way to St. Louis?”
A weariness weighed on the stark lines of his face. “I’ve been at this chosen trade too long to hope otherwise.” He traced her jaw with a leathered knuckle. “You can’t tell me you aren’t afraid.”
A tremble went through her. But she feared for her heart rather than bloodthirsty outlaws. “I trust you to keep…” she almost said us “…Colt safe.”
“You’re a brave one,” he said, his voice husky.
The air between them sparked with dangerous energy. “When I’m not being pigheaded.”
His lips curved and skimmed hers. “I fancy willful women.”
She pressed closer, her hands settling next to the guns slung from his hip. The metal buckle of his gun belt dug into her stomach. She kissed him hungrily and his hard mouth claimed hers. Her backside bumped up against the pine table, and Boone’s body melded to hers, his chest pressing her back. She arched her neck, desperate for his lips to blaze a trail over sensitized skin.
“Boone, you trying to burn the ranch down?” a blond-haired, baby-faced cowboy asked. breezing into the room, to the hissing and popping of the coffee boiling out the spout of the kettle.
“Blast it, Wyatt!” Boone said, breaking away. He strode to the stove and grabbed the kettle with a checked potholder. “How long you been home and why didn’t we see you in Aurora or on the trail?”
Wyatt stared at her with open curiosity.
Maggie smoothed the wrinkled bodice of her travel dress and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, sure her face was as red as a saloon girl’s bloomers. “I believe introductions are in order.”
Gunslingers Don't Die: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 2) Page 6
