Cowboy Bodyguard (Wild Rose Country Book 4)

by Linda Ford

  Clay stared toward the fire and held his hand out to signal them to wait.

  She slowed and looked the same direction. The flames had narrowed to a slim arrow and several men beat the remnant back. “They’ve put it out.” Her lungs released for the first time since she’d seen the smoke.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes before we come to that conclusion,” he said.

  They waited, a tight knot of people with arms full of treasures. Clay held Megan’s hat full of kittens. Angus stood at the barn, ready to release the animals.

  The flames died. Tendrils of smoke rose here and there. Finally, the men swung to their horses and rode toward the ranch. Harrison was the first one to reach them. His features were blackened with smoke.

  “Sure could use a drink of cold water.” He’d barely gotten the words out before a coughing fit hit.

  Cosette ran to get it.

  Megan waited for her father to dismount then rushed into his arms, not caring about his smoky hands and clothes.

  He hugged her tightly before he set her down and took the dipper of water that Cosette handed him. He downed it. “Thanks.” He looked at Birdie and Clay. Read their concern and silent questions.

  “Give me time to clean up. Then we’ll talk.”

  He stomped his boots at the step, went indoors, and returned with a change of clothes. A moment later, he disappeared on the path that led to the river.

  “We should put the cats back,” Clay said. Birdie followed him to the barn. They could see the rim of blackened grass on the second hill. Several men kept guard to make sure it didn’t flare up again.

  Relief flooded Birdie as it hit her just how close the fire had come. She stopped at the barn to clutch at the wall.

  Clay saw and came back to her side. “Are you okay?”

  “Relieved that we’re safe. But if this fire was deliberately set…” She shook her head.

  “Harrison will know. Stay here and take it easy while I help Megan put her cats back. Keep your eyes open.” He glanced to the pocket where he knew she carried her derringer.

  She patted it. “I’ll be ready if something happens.”

  She listened to the noise of them climbing the ladder, then their muted voices as they tended the cats. Finally, they descended the ladder and crossed the floor. The whole while she kept a careful eye on the surrounding area, very aware that the distraction of the fire would provide a perfect opportunity for some man with evil intention to slip in unnoticed.

  Clay came to her side as Megan trotted back to the house.

  She held his arm. “I hate this feeling that someone is watching and waiting to do us harm.”

  “Maybe Harrison has discovered something.” He took her hand as they walked back to the house. She found strength in his firm hold. Gold in the heart was the most precious gift. She pushed aside the warning he had uttered about dying by the gun.

  Harrison waited for them on the verandah, his hair wet and slicked back. “Megan, go keep Cosette company.”

  She jammed her hands to her hips. “You always send me away when things get interesting.”

  “Only doing what’s best for my little girl.” He patted her bottom as she passed.

  “Draw up a chair.” Harrison waved toward the chairs on the porch.

  Clay pulled two to face the man and waited for Birdie to sit before he did, removing his hat. She was happy to see the gun strapped to his side, and she patted her derringer.

  “Birdie, this might be too much for your tender ears.”

  “I’d sooner know what’s going on than wonder and imagine.”

  Harrison nodded. “Yesterday morning, Bill showed me a calf that had been badly cut. I’ll spare you the details but it was very cruel. I shot him on the spot. Then we rode far and wide, checking on the cows. I found a young steer hog tied just out of reach of water. We found him in time to save him but again, a very cruel thing.” He looked thoughtful. “I fired a man last year and drove him from the place when I caught him torturing animals.”

  Clay leaned forward. “You think he’s come back?”

  “I have no idea.” Harrison stared to the scar left by the grassfire. “That fire was deliberately set. I don’t see young Stu Edmonds resorting to that sort of mischief just because he got fired. Seems a little extreme.”

  “It’s certain someone is causing mischief,” Clay said. “Threatening you and your family and your livelihood.” He got to his feet and paced to the edge of the verandah to stare into the distance.

  Birdie would have liked to go to his side, but it was too soon to show her affection in front of Harrison, so she sat and watched, feeling Clay’s tension. His hand rested on the butt of his gun, and she hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

  All she could do was pray God would protect him, protect them all, and that the man responsible for these acts would be found.

  “I’ve left three of my hands patrolling the place. I don’t intend to be burned out. Come morning, I’m going to send someone for the Mountie. Perhaps he’s aware of a gang hanging around that might be responsible for this.” He waved to include the entire area.

  Cosette opened the door and spoke through the screen. “The supper is ready.”

  Harrison rose slowly. “I hope we can hide our worries from Megan. She’s much too young to have this sort of thing hanging over her head.”

  On that matter they were all agreed and put on smiles as they entered the room.

  Megan gave them narrow-eyed study. “I can guess what you were talking about,” she said.

  Harrison swept her off her feet and tickled her. “Did Rags have her kittens yet?” He carried her over his shoulder to the table and set her down.

  “She had six, just like I said.” Megan told about naming them and why and how Clay had helped her carry them from the loft. “So they wouldn’t burn. But Papa, you came along just in time to put out the fire and save us all.”

  Harrison chuckled softly. “I didn’t exactly do it by myself.”

  Megan nodded decisively. “Mostly.”

  With Megan talking nonstop, the meal passed pleasantly. Harrison remained at the table after the meal and waited for Megan to finish drying dishes. Then he rose. “How about taking a walk with me, little gal?”

  Megan rushed to take his hand. “You want to come and see the kittens?”

  Clay and Birdie followed them to the verandah and watched them go into the barn.

  Clay held out his hand to Birdie. “How about taking a walk with me, little gal?”

  She laughed as she took his hand. “I’d be honored, but I don’t want to see the kittens.”

  They stepped to the ground. He smiled down at her. “What would you like to see?”

  “Is it safe to go to the river?”

  He patted his gun. “I believe it is. Why don’t you get your sketchbook?”

  “Wait right here.” She dashed indoors and grabbed her satchel and rejoined him slightly out of breath.

  “You didn’t need to rush. I would have waited.”

  His words seemed to carry a promise. Or perhaps she was a spinster grabbing at any sign of hope. Perhaps later, she would regret believing the promise. But not tonight.

  Tonight was to enjoy.

  She clung to his arm as they followed the trail through the woods to the river. The dark shadows seemed to shift and move. The place, once friendly and welcoming, was now filled with strange sounds and uncertainty.

  Chapter 8

  Clay stopped and pulled her into his arms. He relished the feeling of Birdie clinging to his shirt front as he held her close. He’d wanted to hold her since the fire had started. Wanted to press her to his chest and convince himself that she was safe by his side regardless of the danger that lurked out there. He bent his head, tipped her chin up, and smiled. “I just needed to hold you and know last night was real. This afternoon was too real. I’m grateful the fire didn’t touch us.”

  “It did touch us though. Not the flames. But the fear.”
r />   “Fear prepares us.” He knew his fear that people would recognize him should make him more cautious about his growing affection for Birdie. Instead, he used the uncertainty of his future as an excuse to grab and hold onto every precious second.

  Like the few minutes they now had to themselves. He took her hand and led her to the river, where they sat shoulder to shoulder on a rock. He kept her hand in his and let himself enjoy the moment.

  She pressed her head to his shoulder. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m an old maid?”

  He wrapped an arm around her. “Maybe you were only waiting for me to come along.”

  Her quick laughter ended abruptly. “I have been waiting for you my whole life, and I don’t regret that it took this long for you to find me.”

  He grinned. “I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking.” Fact was, he wouldn’t have been ready to open his heart to her until now.

  She shifted to study him. “Do you mind if I draw a picture of you?”

  “Hmm.” He pretended to give it serious thought. “So long as you make me truly handsome, I’ll allow it.”

  She hooted. “For all you know, I’ve drawn a dozen pictures of you already.”

  “Have you?”

  She tossed her head. “You’ll never know.”

  He snatched her sketchbook and kept it out of her reach when she tried to get it back. Holding it high, he flipped through the pages. “There are none of me.”

  Chuckling, she held out her hand. “Give it to me and I’ll remedy that.”

  He handed back the book and tried several dramatic poses while she laughed at his antics. Every shared laugh erased a painful memory and replaced it with joy.

  “Sit looking at the river as if deep in thought.”

  He leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, and stared at the water.

  She began to sketch.

  Soon she was engrossed to the point that he wondered if she really saw him. He shifted enough he could look at her. She glanced up, and their gazes caught and held. The river flowed by, the leaves twirled overhead, and birds sang. But for Clay, time ceased. Nothing mattered but this moment and this woman. If he had nothing more in life, this would be enough.

  Oh, God in heaven, please grant me many more days with Birdie.

  A tender smile curled her lips, and she focused again on her sketchbook.

  The snap of a twig jerked his attention from his dreams. He sprang to his feet, grabbed Birdie by the hand, and dragged her into the sheltering trees. Breath stalled, he waited to see what had caused the sound.

  A moment later, a bull moose moved from the trees and stood by the river’s edge.

  Birdie flipped a page in her book and quickly sketched the animal. The moose turned, sniffed the air, and, with grace that seemed at odds with such an awkward-looking creature, slipped into the trees and disappeared from sight.

  Clay wanted to kick himself for being so careless. Someone with less benign notions than a moose could have approached them while he’d let his attention wander. “We need to get back.”

  “Give me a minute.” She continued to draw. “I still have the picture in my head and I need to get it down while it’s fresh.”

  He waited beside her, fully alert to his surroundings.

  She closed the book, and he held her hand as they returned to the house.

  Harrison was sitting on one of the verandah chairs, Megan on his knee talking up a storm. Harrison nodded and smiled.

  Clay stole a glance of Birdie. Could he hope things would work out, that their affection might grow to something bigger and more permanent, something that included a home and children?

  He dropped her hand. Not only was it too early, but as long as he wore a gun on his hip, he wouldn’t be making plans for marriage.

  “I’ll take a look around then bed down for the night. Mutt, come on.” The dog had stayed behind at the house and glanced back as he joined Clay. Clay called goodnight to them all, pretending he didn’t see disappointment in Birdie’s face that he’d left so suddenly. He waited until he was out of earshot to speak to Mutt.

  “Don’t go getting attached to the place. You know we don’t belong.” Yet he was as bad as the dog. He looked back at the house and wondered if he could deal with this business and hang up his gun for good.

  He rose the next morning knowing he should pull back from Birdie but at the same time, desperate to enjoy every minute they could spend together. He repeated his earlier prayer for more pleasant days with Birdie.

  Over the next couple of days, it seemed his prayer had been granted. Although he and Harrison and the others remained alert and cautious, there was no more messages from a man intent on evil, and no sign of trouble. If Harrison was home, Megan spent her time with him, which left Clay free to guard Birdie. He savored every minute.

  They spent much time at the river. She usually drew as they talked, since she needed to send her publisher twenty finished pictures every quarter.

  “It keeps me busy,” she said. “Each design has to be unique. That’s a lot of ideas to come up with.”

  It seemed like an awful whack of them to Clay. “Do you have any trouble coming up with them?”

  “Not so far.” She lifted her face and studied him. “I’ve come up with a whole new concept for my designs since you came. Want to see?”

  He always felt a jolt of pleasure when she let him look at her work. “I’d love to.”

  She sat beside him and showed him several pages. Cowboy boots on a step with pink flowers growing nearby, a cowboy hat on a pair of worn boots, a coiled rope over a saddle horn. “I’m going to tell my publisher about my idea to start a line featuring western themes. I think it will go over well. Most of them won’t need any words, but I’ll send a sampling of some with and some without.”

  He looked at the boots on the step. “What would you say here?”

  She grinned at him. “Welcome home, cowboy.”

  He couldn’t tear himself from her gaze, didn’t want to. Her words spoke to a need deep inside of him. Welcome, home. How he longed for a woman who would utter those words to him. “I like the sound of that.”

  She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Me too.”

  He took the pencil and drawing book from her and set them on a nearby rock, then pulled her into his arms. He caught her chin with his forefinger, trailed his thumb along her lips, and captured her lips with his own, tasting sweetness and welcome while he offered protection and honor. She cupped her hand to the back of his head and begged for the kiss to continue. He gladly granted her request.

  With a sigh, she leaned back. “Clay Fisher, where have you been all my life?”

  He chuckled. “I think I’ve been getting ready to meet you.”

  “Glad you finally did.”

  “Me too.”

  “Now let me finish my drawing.” She reached out to retrieve her pencil and sketchbook.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He held her in the circle of his arms as she worked.

  * * *

  Birdie couldn’t believe her heart could contain so much joy. It had been three days since the fire, and nothing more had happened. Perhaps whoever was responsible had moved on. But because they couldn’t be sure, Clay stayed close. She wasn’t complaining. Far from it—she hungrily drank in every precious moment they shared. They talked about their growing up years. She got a glimpse of a boy raised in an upright family, of a young man seeking thrills in the Cariboo gold fields. His descriptions helped her imagine the rugged country, the hard toil of the work, and the excitement of discovering gold. She got a glimpse of life in the rugged town of Barkerville and realized how Clay had come to trust his skill with a gun to protect himself and his friends.

  “I wish I’d never started on that road,” he said.

  She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “You used your gun for protection or you might not be alive now, and then where would I be?”

  He smiled. “I’m glad I’m here.”<
br />
  In turn she told him about her life caring for a failing mother. She even told him some of the brash things men had said and done to her.

  He held her and assured her she hadn’t deserved to be treated that way. “Good thing this Larry fellow is back East or I might have to deal with him.”

  It was Sunday, and Birdie rose from bed, her heart full of joy and anticipation. Harrison gave the ranch hands time off on the Sabbath. Those out with the cows had to do the tasks they did every day but at the ranch, it was slower. Harrison read the Bible to Megan and taught her lessons from a book his wife had brought when they married.

  He often took care of Megan so Birdie, too, could have a day of rest. This Sunday was no different.

  She had been looking forward to the day and had made plans. “Clay, do you want to accompany me on a picnic?”

  “I certainly can’t let you go unescorted. I don’t think Harrison would approve.”

  She handed him the basket of food she’d prepared. “Harrison, we’re going to Minnow Lake.” It wasn’t a real lake but a tiny pool of spring-fed water. She sauntered across the yard.

  Clay followed. “Are we walking?” His eyebrows headed for his hairline.

  She laughed. “It’s not far.”

  “I’ve done more walking in the last few days than in the last three years all totaled.”

  “I expect it hasn’t done you any harm.” They skirted the corrals and headed west, climbed a grassy hill, and paused at the top to catch their breath.

  Light flashed off the water below. “That’s where we’re going.” Trees surrounded the water and drifted up the gully. She caught his hand, “Let’s go.”

  He hung back. “I don’t like it.”

  “You haven’t even seen it yet.”

  “We’ll be a long way from the ranch. There are too many hollows full of trees. It looks like a perfect place to be ambushed.”

  She studied the trees and draws. “I don’t see anything to be concerned about. Besides you have your gun and I have mine. We’ll be safe.” She tugged on him.