Cowboy Bodyguard (Wild Rose Country Book 4)

by Linda Ford

  She stood and joined him at the railing. “‘The most precious gold is found in a loving heart.’ Those are your words, and they are completely true. Wouldn’t it be a shame to settle for coal when one might have gold, if even for a short spell?” She waited to see if he would understand her meaning. That he had Mary for a couple of years. And now he and Birdie might share a few days of gold. She wanted to embrace every minute, not waste one because of an uncertain future. She hoped she wasn’t acting like a desperate spinster, willing to grasp at straws of happiness, even if only temporary. This feeling between them had sprung to life in a very short time, but it was real. Yes, he might face a killer. Might be on the losing end of a gunfight. She shuddered to think of it, but she wouldn’t deny her feelings, and she felt sure he shared them.

  He faced her. “I wish I’d never gone looking for gold. I wish I’d never found any.”

  “But gold can be beautiful and useful.”

  Slowly his eyes said he believed her. “It sure looks nice in the picture you made.”

  “And it’s even more beautiful in a heart.” She pressed one hand to his chest and her other to her own. “I think I’ve found a vein of gold and I mean to enjoy it.”

  He caught her hand against his chest and squeezed. “I’m going to do the same.” His gaze went to her mouth, and she lifted her head to meet him halfway.

  He touched his lips to hers. Warm, gentle, tentative.

  She opened her heart to him and wound her arms about his waist. Her palms pressed to his back.

  He claimed her kiss with deepening warmth. Joy blossomed in her heart.

  Clay’s sweet tender kiss erased the memory of all the unwanted advances of men like Larry.

  He lifted his lips from hers, his breath sighed against her mouth.

  She pressed her face to his chest and drank in the joy of this moment.

  Angus and Cosette came their way from their home behind the cookhouse. “We be going to bed now,” Cosette said.

  Clay and Birdie broke apart and pretended a great interest in the scene.

  Cosette giggled as they passed.

  “I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” Birdie turned back to the verandah railing, staring in the direction Harrison had gone. “I thought he would be back by now. I hope he’s okay.”

  Clay wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “He knows how to take care of himself, plus he had a crew with him.”

  “But he’s dealing with an unknown enemy.”

  “There’s one thing we can do,” Clay said. “We can pray for his safety.”

  She nodded. “It’s the best thing we can do.” She bowed her head and waited.

  He cleared his throat. “I haven’t prayed except for grace since Mary died.”

  With an impish grin, she looked up at him. “Guess it’s about time you corrected that.”

  He laughed. “You’re right.” He bowed his head. “Father in heaven, it’s been a long time since You’ve heard from me, but I know You haven’t changed. You’ve patiently waited for me to come to my senses, and here I am. My request is on behalf of Harrison. We don’t know who is threatening him or what form it will take, but You see and know all. Protect him and bring him home safely. And about Megan, Father, protect her from whoever is doing this. I ask all this in the name of Your Son who loves me and died for me. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Birdie whispered, her throat clogged with emotion. “Thank you. No one’s prayed with me like that since Mama died.”

  “Now we trust. And trusting, we go to bed and sleep, knowing God is in control.”

  “Do you find it hard to believe that when things go wrong?” She wondered how he could believe when his wife had been shot.

  “I faltered in my faith for a long time, but it’s impossible not to believe in God when I look around at the mountains and rivers and birds. I know He could intervene and stop evil men. Sometimes He does. I can’t explain why He doesn’t all the time, but today I watched a little girl who has lost her mother running and playing, knowing her mother would want her to be happy.” His arms tightened around her. “And I see a woman who has been mistreated by a number of men choose to be cheerful and kind anyway, and to trust a man like me, an old gunslinger.”

  She stepped back and playfully smacked him. “You’re only two years older than I am. Watch it with the ‘old’ remarks.”

  He laughed, then drew her close again. “Maybe that’s all God wants of us. To choose trust and kindness and cheerfulness and joy even in the midst of trouble.”

  “Clay, you have certainly changed from the morose, silent man of yesterday. Tonight, you’re a man full of wise words.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe all those weeks and months alone have created a store of words that needs to be spoken.”

  “I’m happy I get to hear them.” She turned to look out at the darkening landscape as the last of the light faded from the sky. “May God bring Harrison home safely.”

  Clay waited while she went indoors. She closed and locked the door. Angus had gone around earlier nailing the windows shut. The rooms would get hot without any evening air circulating, but it had to be that way.

  Birdie went to her room and prepared for bed, climbing in beside the sleeping Megan without disturbing her.

  It had been an eventful day and a wonderful evening. Worry had stayed away with Clay at her side, but now it returned. Where was Harrison? Was he safe?

  A noise startled her, and she sat upright. What had that been? She strained to catch it but didn’t hear it again. She pulled her derringer from beneath her pillow and lay back, her eyes wide open. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 7

  Clay called Mutt and made his way to the trees where he’d spent the previous night. Impossible to believe he’d been at the ranch just over a day. What a difference it had made. Seems all the time he’d been hiding out, God had been working in his life.

  “I just needed someone to talk to,” he said to Mutt. “No offense meant. You’re a fine listener, but you don’t have a lot to say.”

  Mutt whined.

  Clay unbuckled his gun belt and put it at the head of his bedroll. Those who live by the gun, die by the gun. The words ricocheted inside his head. Two days ago, he would have said he wouldn’t mind dying so long as he could protect Harrison’s family. He still wanted to protect the family, but now he wanted to live. Live and love. He’d found a vein of gold, as Birdie put it, and he wanted to enjoy it for a good long time.

  He settled himself on his bedding and lay still, listening for any unusual sounds. It helped to have Angus in the house and Mutt at Clay’s side, but he wouldn’t rest easy until an end had been put to this uncertainty and threat.

  He woke before dawn and put his hand out to touch Mutt. The dog stirred from its slumber. Clay clutched his gun and silently sat up. He strained for sounds. The cow mooed. The horses shuffled. The river rippled past the trees. The leaves fluttered overhead. Nothing to cause him concern. He pulled on his boots and settled his back to one of the trees.

  If only the danger was past and he could enjoy his time here.

  Pink tinged the eastern sky and wrapped around the horizon when Angus left the house, carrying the milk paid and whistling.

  Mutt sat up to watch him.

  A little later, Angus headed back to the house.

  Clay and Mutt followed him. Clay ordered the dog to sit on the verandah and stepped inside a moment after the older man. Birdie smiled at him, and the morning filled with golden light.

  She handed him a dish of scraps for the dog and he took it to Mutt.

  Megan bounced after him, holding a feeding bottle full of milk. “I have to feed the calf before breakfast. You wanna help?”

  “Sure.” He followed the girl, pleased when Birdie joined them. He had them wait outside while he checked every corner of the barn and the loft. As Birdie passed him to go with Megan to feed the calf, she caught his hand and squeezed it.

  Grinning widely, he lounged
against the corral fence to watch and wait. And he didn’t neglect his watching for the joy of waiting for Birdie. He scanned the area over and over, alert to any sign of danger, relieved when he saw none but still edgy, wondering what the man would do next.

  Birdie came out alone. “Megan’s gone to see the kittens.” She ducked her head. “I had something else I’d rather see. Or should I say, someone else?” She raised her head and the welcoming look in her eyes left him weak and speechless. She leaned against the fence beside him, her shoulders brushing his.

  A great hunger for loving and belonging welled up inside him. And side by side with that came the warning that he’d had this once before, and it had been snatched from him. He patted his gun at his side. Wearing it marked him as a gunman. How long before someone took note of the fact and remembered who Clay Fisher was?

  She noticed the way he touched his sidearm. “When this is over, you can forget Clay Fisher, gunman.”

  He gave a grunt that could be agreement, or not. If only it were that easy to forget, for everyone else to forget.

  “We will be cautious and alert.” She patted her pocket to remind him she carried her derringer. “But there’s no need to let fear rob us of the joy of the day. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Their happiness might be cut short but why let the future steal from the present?

  Megan joined them and they went to the house for breakfast. It might only be his changed perspective, but there seemed to be a lot of laughing and teasing around the table.

  “Angus, could you take a package to town for me? I want to send the pictures I have ready?” Birdie turned to Clay. “He can take your letter and post it, too.”

  “Sure, miss. Cosette, you make a list of supplies you need.” He prepared to leave as soon as he finished eating.

  He’d be back before dark so Clay didn’t worry about Birdie and Megan being alone come nightfall.

  After the meal and cleanup, Megan disappeared into her room. Clay went down the hall and kept a close eye on the doorway, alert to any sound of danger.

  Megan emerged a few minutes later, her hair beneath a hat and a swagger to her steps. “I saw the bad guys hanging about the corrals. Want me to show you?”

  “That’d be a good idea.” He followed her down the hall, signaling for Birdie to join them as they passed.

  She fell in at his side. “What are we hunting?”

  “Bad guys,” Clay said. “Seems they’re in the corrals.”

  Birdie gave him a look rife with concern. “I certainly hope this is only her imagination.” She patted the pocket of her dark gray skirt.

  He gave her a quick look. Her shirtwaist was the blue of a summer sky, her eyes, as they met his, flashed with emotion that filled his heart. “Me, too.” As they approached the barn, he caught Megan’s arm. “You stay here and watch over Miss Birdie while I scout on ahead.” He was almost certain Megan was playing a game but wasn’t about to take any chances.

  Birdie caught Megan’s hand and gave the youngster a pleading look. “I’m counting on you to notice anything dangerous.”

  Megan got a fierce look on her face. “I surely will.”

  Clay slipped away, looked at every possible place someone could be hiding, and studied the horizon before he returned. “Maybe saw evidence of someone having been there recently,” he reported to Megan, giving Birdie a wink so she’d know he was playing.

  Megan bent low and sneaked forward. Twice she pointed her finger and ordered imaginary bad guys from hiding. “Now ride on out before I have to get tough with you.”

  Birdie caught Clay’s hand. “I wonder if she is acting out her fears or just playing.”

  “I wondered too, but either way, it’s good for her to enjoy her play.”

  They swung their hands as they followed the child. Megan grew tired of chasing the bad guys. “I want to go to the woods.”

  Birdie looked to Clay. “What do you think?”

  “She’ll be safe if she stays in sight.”

  They played in the woods by the river. They played tag and played catch. They paused for lunch then returned to their play. The day passed on wings of gold. Late in the afternoon, they made their way back to the house as Angus returned. He took the supplies to the kitchen and then tended the horse.

  Birdie looked into the distance. “I wish Harrison would return.” She cupped her hand over her eyes and squinted. She pointed. “Is that…?”

  He looked the direction she indicated. “It looks like smoke.” Just a wisp on the horizon. It could be dust from a horse, or a whirlwind. He pulled the brim of his hat lower so he could see against the glare of the sky. Dust would move. A whirlwind would die down. Smoke, if it was a campfire, would waver and stay about the same.

  As he watched, the smoke grew in volume, gray as if old grass burned.

  There was plenty of dry grass on the hills that rolled toward the mountains. A fire could burn unabated for miles until the river stopped it. Yellow and orange flashed. He knew what it was and his jaw muscles clenched.

  Birdie clutched his arm. “It’s a fire and it’s growing fast.” All the hands except Angus had gone with Harrison. She turned toward the barn and called, “Angus.”

  The man appeared. “Something wrong?”

  Birdie pointed. “Get the wagon and load it with sacks and shovels and water. We have to put out that fire.” Licks of orange flames could be seen in the billowing smoke.

  Clay held up his hand. “Wait a minute. Are you suggesting we take Megan out there?”

  The child was throwing a stick for Mutt to retrieve.

  “Of course not.” Birdie seemed surprised he would suggest it.

  “Can you think of a better way to get us from the house so someone can ride in and—?”

  “Then what are we to do?”

  “Wait and watch. If the fire gets too close, we’ll go to the river.”

  “And let the place burn?” Shock widened her eyes.

  “Harrison expects me to take care of Megan and you. What do you think he would want?”

  “He is right,” Angus said. “We’ll watch. If it gets too close, I’ll herd the animals to the river and Clay can take care of the people.”

  “I suppose you’re both right, but I feel so helpless not doing anything.” She called Megan to her side. “Stay right here.”

  Angus went to get Cosette, and they watched the smoke billow and blow.

  Birdie clutched Clay’s hand.

  Clay murmured a prayer for protection.

  The wind shifted, bringing the smell of smoke with it. Birdie pressed closer to his side, drawing Megan tight to them.

  Angus and Cosette held hands.

  “Why isn’t anyone trying to put it out?” Megan asked. “We’ll burn to death.”

  “We’ll go to the river if it gets that close,” Birdie assured her.

  “My cats.” Megan broke free and raced to the barn.

  Birdie and Clay ran after her. At the barn, Clay drew up.

  “Wait here. Keep a sharp eye. I’ll help her get her cats.”

  Mutt had followed, his eyes worried.

  “Stay here,” Clay ordered the dog. He hurried after Megan and was up the ladder in three jumps.

  Megan sobbed as she tried to cradle all the cats. She couldn’t do it.

  Clay snatched the hat off her head. “Put the kittens in here.” She did so among a chorus of meows. When she’d placed them all in her hat, he took it from her. “Go on down.”

  Megan picked up the cat, but she couldn't carry her and navigate the ladder.

  “Put her down and go to the bottom,” he said.

  She did, and he followed.

  “Now call her,” he said.

  Megan called Rags, and the cat climbed down the post and followed Clay, looking up at the hat and meowing. He lowered the hat so she could see her kittens and led the cat and girl back to watch the fire.

  Megan sat with the kittens in her lap. At least she was distracted from the fire.

>   Knowing this could well be a trap, Clay spent as much time looking in other directions as he did at the fire. Flames reached the top of the hill three rises away. He was about to say it was time to gather up the things they needed and head for the river when dust to the right caught his attention. Six men mounted on horses rode toward the fire.

  “Help has arrived.” It was too far away to make out who the arrivals were, but he expected Harrison and his crew had seen the fire and raced to fight it

  The smoke at one end came in puffs as men beat back the flames.

  Birdie squeezed Clay’s fingers so tightly, they had grown numb, but he didn’t protest.

  “They’ve got a long line to fight.” The fire was far from being under control. The flames raced down the hill toward them. The smoke billowed and rolled forward with a vengeance.

  Clay glanced toward the river. It would take a few minutes to reach the water, and no doubt everyone would want to take something with them. “Let’s go.” He scooped up the hat full of kittens and led the way to the house. Angus headed for the barn.

  “I have to get my drawings.” Birdie rushed into the house, Megan at her heels.

  “I get my shawl.” Cosette went inside as well.

  Mutt stood by Clay and whined.

  “I know, boy. I don’t like it either.” He’d seen a prairie fire once, and it had outrun a horse.

  “Come on, ladies. It’s time to go.” He did not want to get trapped.

  * * *

  Birdie heard Clay’s call as she grabbed her drawing satchel. She hurried down the hall. “Megan, let’s go.”

  She glanced in the child’s bedroom. Megan sat on her bed, weeping.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Mama’s picture.”

  Birdie’s heart dropped like a stone as she turned that direction, but she saw no rope or other sign of invasion. She lifted the picture from the nail and handed it to Megan. “Now, let’s go.” She grabbed Megan’s hand and rushed her outside