To Catch a Texas Star

by Linda Broday

“We’ve got company. Make yourself decent,” Roan said. “I’ll get the door.”

  Marley slid her arms into a wrapper and threw her shawl around her shoulders. In the light, she stared at blood on the pieces of broken window frame. Their shots had hit him. Good. Maybe he’d think twice before coming after her again. Before she could see more, people in all stages of undress poured into the sitting room, all talking at once.

  Roan raised a hand and hollered, “Pipe down.”

  When they lowered their voices, he said, “My wife and I are fine. We shot at an intruder but he got away. Thank you all for coming, but you need to go back to your rooms and let us deal with this.”

  Just then the sheriff waded through the mass of people. “What happened here?”

  “An intruder, Sheriff Coburn,” said one man.

  A woman with rags tied in her hair huffed. “He almost ravished the lady. She barely escaped with her life.”

  “No, it was a robbery,” a bowlegged man in a nightshirt insisted.

  Marley hid a grin. Everyone seemed to have their own version of exactly what had taken place. Roan appeared out of sorts, a dark thundercloud standing in the center of the dimly lit room. But then she guessed he had a right. Just when they were trying to keep their heads down and not draw attention to themselves, this had to happen.

  The sheriff narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t I know you?”

  “No,” Roan answered. “I came in for the fair.”

  “From where?”

  “The Aces ’n’ Eights Ranch.”

  “You’re not Duel McClain, and don’t tell me you are.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I work there.”

  “Got a name, mister?” Sheriff Coburn asked.

  Roan put his arm around Marley’s waist. “Jack Durham. This is my wife, Mariah. We were sleeping when an intruder came through the window. We fired at him.”

  “Which one of you shot?”

  “Both of us.” Roan met Marley’s eyes. She thought she saw pride in his gaze. “My wife is an excellent shot. She’s going to win the shooting competition in the morning.”

  “We wounded him, Sheriff,” Marley said. “He left bleeding.”

  Coburn frowned. “Why would he want to do you harm, Mrs. Durham?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. I have no enemies that I know of.” Marley didn’t lie there. “It’s possible he got the wrong room by mistake—maybe he was after someone else. Maybe he was inebriated and didn’t know where he was. You know how drinking men are. Or maybe he was a thief looking for something to steal. You’ll have to take it up with him.” She met Roan’s shadowed gaze. “I’m just glad for my husband. My Jack sent him flying through the window.”

  “So your husband threw him out? I thought you said the culprit leaped through the glass.”

  “Wait just a cotton-picking minute,” Roan yelled. “We’re the victims here. Don’t put this on us. And I suggest you treat my wife with respect.”

  Marley wanted to slap the lawman. Instead, she settled for a scathing glance. “A poor choice of words on my part. I assure you, the assailant went through under his own power.”

  The lawman shooed everyone out of the suite and examined the blood in the bedroom. She noticed how Coburn kept giving Roan odd looks. Though Roan was careful to stay in the shadows, the sheriff was going to figure out his identity any second unless they got Coburn out soon.

  Marley stepped forward, putting a hand to her forehead. “Can’t this wait, Sheriff Coburn? The hour is late, and we’re both competing in the morning. I’m simply exhausted after my ordeal, and it’s left me shaken. You can probably pick up a lot of clues outside. I’m sure he left a blood trail.”

  Coburn studied her for a good minute before murmuring, “I suppose, madam.”

  “Oh thank you, Sheriff. You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” She gave him a wide smile. “After all, the room isn’t going anywhere, and I don’t think the intruder will return. At least not tonight.”

  Somewhere, the man was tending to his wound—or wounds—whichever it turned out to be. She wasn’t a vengeful person by nature, but she prayed he was in a whole lot of pain.

  At last, the sheriff left. Roan pulled her against him. “We’ll close off this room, and you’ll sleep in the sitting room with me.”

  “Roan, do you suppose that was Gentry or someone he hired to come after me?”

  He kissed her temple. “It’s possible, but we can’t know for sure.”

  Cold fear shimmied along her spine at how close the assailant had come to taking her. And doing what, once he had?

  “If I’d been asleep, I might not have heard him.”

  He chuckled. “You weren’t joking about knowing how to use a sidearm. I wish I could’ve seen the look on his face when you pulled the trigger. I don’t feel a bit sorry for him. He deserved what he got.”

  “I hope he doesn’t die.” She glanced up at Roan. “I can’t bear the thought that I—we—might’ve killed someone.” A thought sent icy fingers along her spine. “Roan, do you think the Wheelers might’ve tipped the assailant off? Maybe that’s why they invited us to their table.”

  Roan’s jaw twitched. “It’s very possible. There is only one presidential suite, and I heard you tell them that’s the room you have.”

  “Oh, Roan, I led that nasty intruder right to us.”

  In one swift motion, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Wrapping the blanket around her, he sat down beside her. “Try not to think about it.” He reached into his vest pocket. “Here’s the name of that publisher you wanted. I got it earlier when I was in the mercantile. Forgot to give it to you.”

  Excited, Marley held the paper next to the soft glow of the lamp. Harper Bros. Publishing. They were looking for all kinds of stories of all lengths, and they promised an answer back within three weeks. Was it possible that she could do this?

  Possible that her dream could come true at last?

  “When we get back to the Aces ’n’ Eights, you send them that book of stories and illustrations you did for Matt right away. Won’t you?” Roan asked.

  She chewed her lip. “Yes.”

  He must’ve sensed her fears in her hesitation. “Marley, I know it’s scary but you have a gift. Promise me you will do this. You’ll not put it off.”

  “I’ll send them my work.” She told Roan about Granny Jack’s husband and how he’d stood up to the gang back then and rooted them out alone. “I’m going to start on a book filled with the things she’s told me over the years. That will be my gift to her at Christmas.”

  “You’ll make her very happy.” Roan stretched out his long legs and put his arm around Marley, drawing her to him.

  As he tucked the blanket securely around her, she didn’t think she’d ever felt more cherished. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. “I like being married to you, Jack Durham.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Tell me a story, sugar dumpling.”

  Nineteen

  She spent the night on the sofa, fully dressed, in Roan’s arms, where he held her safe and secure. The sound of his heartbeat still lingered in her ear as they dressed and went down to breakfast in the hotel dining room. Roan had already gone out to check on the mare and old man Jessup. There was little change in Jessup’s condition.

  Now in the dining room, Marley scanned the patrons for the Wheelers, hoping to confront them, but the couple wasn’t in there. She gave a groan when Sheriff Coburn came through the door and headed toward them.

  “Don’t look now but we’re about to have company,” she murmured over her cup of tea.

  Worry clenched in her stomach. Given the sheriff’s suspicions about Roan already, in the bright light of day, he was going to figure out Roan’s identity just as sure as she was sitting there. She shot her make-believe husband a glance of a
dmiration. Jack Durham looked very handsome with his hair neatly trimmed and curling around his collar, and he was freshly shaven. He wore his regular clothes today, the outfit that hugged his muscular body in all the right places, awakening the sleeping embers inside her.

  “Whatever Coburn says, let me do the talking.” Roan covered her hand with his. His face was grim. “He’s spoiling for a fight. He knows me but can’t place from where, and it’s driving him crazy. If he throws me in jail, I want you to ride as hard as you can for the ranch and don’t look back. Just get somewhere safe.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.” It would test her will to ride off and leave him at their mercy. Who knew what they’d do.

  “He’s just about here. Promise me, Marley.”

  “I promise I’ll ride to get my father and the ranch hands. That’s all I’ll promise.” She set down her teacup and pasted a smile on her face. “Good morning, Sheriff. We’re almost finished, but would you care to join us?”

  Coburn sat down, not bothering to reply. He glared at Roan. “I finally placed you. Bet you thought you were pretty smart, waltzing in here wearing that fancy suit like some rich man. You’re no better than Mozeke.”

  Roan’s eyes darkened. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I came for the horse race.”

  “You came to stir up trouble. You were told never to step foot back in San Saba County.”

  “The way you keep saying that with such certainty tells me you were there that night. You ride with the hooded gang. You’re one of them.” Roan removed his hand from hers and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His voice was hard and deadly as he propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You and Will Gentry are bedfellows, no doubt. How much is he paying you to pretend to keep law and order? And how hard are you actually looking for Jessup’s assailant—and ours?”

  Coburn’s eyes glittered like stones. “I want you out of my town.”

  Hardness filled Roan’s eyes, and his voice was low and lethal. “I’ll leave after the race and not a second before.”

  Confusion rippled across the sheriff’s face that someone had the gumption to stand up to him. His gaze shifted to Marley. She lifted her chin and met his cold eyes.

  “Where did he find you—some brothel?” Coburn snarled.

  A muttered curse left Roan’s mouth and startled her. His hands clenched into fists. If she didn’t do something, he’d reach across the table and grab the jackanapes by the neck and twist his head off.

  She laid a hand on Roan’s arm and addressed the despicable man. “I’m Marley Rose McClain. And I assure you, Sheriff, my father, Duel McClain, will tear you limb from limb when he hears about this. He won’t take kindly to having his daughter accused of being a whore.”

  Releasing an oath, Coburn got to his feet and slammed his chair against the table before he stomped from the hotel. She didn’t think he’d give them any trouble himself, but she had no doubt he’d send others to do his dirty work.

  He can’t afford to let us leave town alive.

  That was fine. They’d have to face her Colt. And Roan’s. She’d put her money on them any day.

  Roan sat there so silent and still and deadly quiet until the rage drained from him.

  “I’m sorry I spoke when you asked me not to.” Marley covered his hand. “I just couldn’t let you take matters into your own hands. Coburn wanted you to attack him, prayed that you would. Then he’d have put you behind bars or shot you.” Marley inhaled a calm breath. “I couldn’t let him do that. Can you just talk to me?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “I apologized for speaking.” She was confused. If he wasn’t angry about that, then what? “I just couldn’t stay quiet another second when Coburn accused me of being a harlot.”

  Roan finally grinned, wiping away the darkness. “I’m proud of you. You certainly gave him something to think about. I got the feeling he doesn’t want to tangle with Duel. I was just lost in my thoughts.”

  “Care to share?” she asked softly.

  “I was running the horse race in my head, trying to think where all the dangers might be hidden.” He turned to her. “There are places along the route where gunmen could hide. And then there are the other contestants, who’ll stoop to anything to win the race. They’re not above maiming a horse to claim a victory. I don’t care what they do to me, but it would kill me if they hurt my gentle mare. She’s a very special horse and has already seen a lot of pain.”

  As had he. Too much pain, in fact.

  “Roan, let’s leave and go back home. Please don’t go through with this race.” Home, where they’d be safe from evil men like Gentry and Coburn.

  He shook his head. “I’d like for you to consider it, but I’m staying. I have to see this through, even more so now that I need to find out why Gentry wants to take or kill you.”

  “You’re crazy to think for one second I’ll leave you here. If you stay, I’m staying. There’s safety in numbers.” But even as she tried to be brave, she found terror sliding up her backbone.

  “Marley, they may try to prevent you from competing in the shooting match.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know.” He leaned to brush a kiss across her lips. “Just know that I’ll be there watching for trouble. I’m not going to let them hurt you. They’ll have to go through me, and that’s not going to happen.”

  His touch was like magic and soothed her fears. She wasn’t alone and neither was Roan. They had each other, and they were a force to reckon with. Just ask the intruder from last night.

  “I guess we need to go,” she said. “The match will begin soon. I have to get my rifle.”

  With his hand on the small of her back, they went up to their room. She glanced around the bedroom, her gaze drawn to the broken window. A shiver swept over her. If she hadn’t fired that shot, no telling where she’d be now. Or in whose company.

  * * *

  Roan leaned against a tree, watching the crowd that had gathered to witness the shooting contest. In particular, he searched for Gentry. One thing he knew: the man would show up. For whatever reason, his fascination with Marley was too strong. So far, Roan hadn’t spotted the man that Virginia Creek had warned him to avoid.

  Nor did he see the Wheelers or Wes Douglas, Duel’s former ranch hand.

  Marley stood with the other contestants. She was the lone female amid the eight males. She talked with a young man—their waiter from last night—and appeared to have struck up a friendship. Roan admired her easy way with people, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Her dress outlined her lush figure and brought out her brown eyes. The breeze toyed with her dark curls, tossing them this way and that. His arms ached to hold her again as he had the night through.

  Although he’d made a show of being irritated over the way she’d gone about pretending to be married, he’d enjoyed having people think they were a couple. Marley’s beauty stole his breath, and he took it as a compliment that she seemed to have developed what she thought was love for him. Maybe it was. That remained to be seen.

  How could anyone love a wanderer like him—a drifter with no roots and only one purpose? And one that might get him killed?

  Marley Rose McClain could have anyone she wanted. All she had to do was crook her finger at some man and he would come running. So why did she want him when she could have anyone she chose? She didn’t know her power.

  He hoped she won the competition. That would show everyone—and herself—what she was made of.

  As the first man stepped to the line to shoot, Roan’s thoughts drifted to his visit with Doc Jessup that morning. Roan had asked him if anyone had come for treatment of a gunshot.

  “Only one,” Doc had said with a chuckle. “A husband who said his wife shot him. She brought him to my office, and they argued the whole time I was patching the guy
up, so that story had to be true. They left with her threatening to shoot him again if he so much as thought about looking at Vera Kingsley. Why do you ask?”

  Roan filled him in on the intruder and the blood left behind. “I know we shot him. I just wonder who fixed him up.”

  “Maybe he died of his wounds.”

  That was possible, but Coburn would’ve mentioned it at breakfast. Roan’s gut told him that the sheriff had a pretty good idea of the man’s identity. If the intruder had turned up his toes, Coburn would’ve had Roan in jail before the butter had melted on his biscuit.

  To speed up the shooting competition, they had multiple targets set up, one next to the other. Marley consulted the chart and went to her line.

  The first contestant finished after a dismal showing. Each of his three shots had missed the large red X on a board nailed to a tree twenty yards away. Another contestant took his place, and one shot landed near the bull’s-eye, but the other two were not even close. Each man took his shots one by one, with none hitting dead center.

  Then, straight and tall, Marley stepped to the line. She was all business, and even without knowing her, Roan would never have bet against the strong woman, not here or anywhere. She’d show these people what a lady could do.

  Before she raised her rifle to her shoulder, Roan caught movement from the corner of his eye. He swung to his left to see Will Gentry. The man had his hand pressed against his shoulder, his mouth curled in a grimace. Intent on watching Marley, Gentry hadn’t noticed Roan.

  A roar went up from the crowd as Marley hit the bull’s-eye with her first shot.

  Roan weaved through the onlookers, coming up behind Gentry as the man reached inside his long, dark coat. For a gun? Roan couldn’t take that chance.

  As slick as oil on a river current, he slid his Colt from the holster and poked the steel barrel into Gentry’s back. “Hands where I can see them, and don’t even think about going for your gun. If you think I’m going to let you hurt her, you’d best think again. You don’t stand a chance even on your best day.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing, Penny,” Gentry growled in a gravelly voice. “Or who you’re messing with.”