An Uncommon Protector

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  How did a man respond to that? Void of words, he nodded.

  She smiled before walking back down the steps and taking Ollie’s extended arm.

  Not wanting to get caught looking after her backside, Thomas deliberately kept his expression empty and his eyes looking straight forward.

  As his cage door opened and Sheriff Jackson grabbed his elbow, the sheriff muttered under his breath, “I don’t know what you’ve ever done to be worthy of this opportunity, but you are currently the luckiest dog I know.”

  Since Thomas reckoned no reply was expected, he concentrated on negotiating the narrow steps with his still sore joints.

  Most of the crowd had moved away, giving him and the sheriff a bit more room to walk back to the jailhouse than when they had approached the square.

  When they were about halfway there, Sheriff Jackson spoke again. “Miss Laurel is about the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.” Hardening his voice, he said, “Orbison wasn’t lying. No one will go easy on you if she comes to any harm in your company.”

  “And they shouldn’t.” Afraid he wouldn’t get another chance to ask someone who might know, Thomas asked, “How come she never married?”

  When the man inhaled, Thomas called himself ten times the fool. There went his mouth again. He was still in shackles but was asking personal questions about the lady who’d just purchased his freedom?

  “Don’t know,” the sheriff said as he drew in another breath. “I like you, Baker. More than that, I respect the man who telegraphed the judge about your character. If Captain Monroe says you don’t belong in a cell, you don’t.”

  Thomas had no idea how Devin Monroe even knew he was in jail, but his reaching out didn’t surprise him. “Thank you.”

  “That said, don’t you ever forget something. You hurt one hair on Laurel Tracey’s head, you’ll get back in here so fast you won’t know what hit you. And I’ll make sure you don’t see the light of day for months.”

  “Understood.”

  Thomas had no idea why a woman like her needed to hire on a man like him, why she didn’t already have a man in her life. But he did know he’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t regret her decision.

  Besides his freedom from jail, she’d given him something he’d pretty much lost when he was captured and sent up to Johnson’s Island prison—his self-worth. His new friends there had helped him see himself in new ways, but being thrown into Sweetwater jail, subjected to the whims of a man like Foster Howell, had set him back.

  The return of his self-worth felt awkward and strange. But he was fairly sure it would, over time, fit him like a glove.

  5

  JUDGE ORBISON’S OFFICE WAS JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF the town square. But as Laurel and Ollie walked through the throng of people, it felt like one of the longest walks of her life. She felt weighed down by everyone’s judgmental looks.

  She also couldn’t help but acknowledge that she’d just become part of the town’s latest fodder for gossip. Chances were good that in mere hours, her formerly good reputation was going to become tarnished beyond repair.

  “You’re really going to go through with it, Miss Tracey?” Ollie asked after she’d barely taken four steps.

  “I am.”

  “That man, he ain’t what I’d call respectable. Like I told you before, might even be a bit dangerous.”

  Considering she’d just purchased Mr. Baker from a cage, Laurel figured Ollie’s summation was a bit of an understatement. But instead of mentioning that, she kept her silence.

  Looking down at his scuffed boots, the guard kicked at the red dirt underfoot. “I know we don’t have much to say to each other,” he mumbled, “but if you need something, or if you start to worry about your safety, come find me. I’ll take care of him.”

  “I, uh . . . thank you, Ollie.”

  Just as he finally lifted his chin and smiled at her, another man moved to her other side. “I’ll escort her the rest of the way, Burnside,” he said.

  Laurel inwardly sighed. The very last person she needed to talk to at the moment was Landon Marshall.

  Ollie frowned up at him. “I can’t let you speak with Miss Tracey right now, Mr. Marshall.”

  “Sure you can,” Landon countered easily. “You know neither Judge Orbison nor Sheriff Jackson is going to have a problem with me escorting Miss Laurel.”

  “Maybe not. But still—”

  “It’s all right, Ollie,” Laurel interjected quickly. Even though he had failed to recognize the needs of the men on the chain gang on a hot day, he was too kind to have to deal with the ego that was Landon Marshall.

  My, how she wished he hadn’t become so possessive.

  “I’ll walk the rest of the way with Mr. Marshall.”

  Though he didn’t look happy about it, Ollie stepped away. “As you wish, Miss Tracey.”

  The moment Ollie turned away, Landon leaned close and gripped her elbow. “Laurel, tell me I didn’t just see you purchase a convict.”

  “I didn’t purchase anyone, Landon. I hired him to help me around the ranch.”

  “That’s basically the same thing.”

  “Not exactly. Sergeant Baker is going to work for me for one year, then be on his way.”

  “Sergeant? He isn’t a soldier any longer, Laurel. Now he’s nothing. Don’t forget, the war is over.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” They were all still dealing with the war’s effects, though, and likely would for some time. She was also fighting her own personal war to keep her land—and probably cattle too—safe from squatters and determined buyers.

  Pulling her away from the judge’s quarters, Landon hardened his expression. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but it is rather troubling. I’m beginning to worry for your emotional state.”

  She pulled her elbow out of his grip. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve been making a slew of poor decisions lately. Decisions that make no sense. This one is surely the worst of them all.”

  Before the war, she had wondered if she could love Landon one day. Their families were friendly neighbors and spent some time together. She knew some in town assumed they would marry when Landon returned from his service. But four months ago, after giving the possibility of a true relationship a fair chance, she’d told Landon she didn’t welcome his suit and that she’d take it as a favor if he stopped calling on her. He hadn’t taken her rejection well.

  She supposed he had every reason to feel that way. His family was wealthy, and now that his father was deceased, he not only owned a great deal of land but was responsible for his mother and sister. He’d also fought in the war for a whole year. He’d been so brave that she’d heard he’d even been responsible for rescuing a group of unfortunate women from a burning building.

  Most everyone said he fought with valor too.

  In addition, he was handsome, blessed with golden-blond hair, bright-green eyes, and a strong jaw. He was everything most girls in Sweetwater—or Fort Worth, for that matter—would ever dream about having in a suitor or a husband.

  Just not her.

  Men like him had never appealed to her. Especially after he returned from the war, he was too confident, too full of himself, and too profuse with his compliments. He also had the unfortunate habit of sharing his viewpoints loudly and with force.

  Only his parents’ friendship with hers prevented her from severing their friendship.

  “I don’t believe I’m making a mistake, Landon,” she said quietly.

  “If you’re wrong, you could be dead.” Lowering his voice, he added in a dark tone, “That man . . . why, he could murder you in your sleep.”

  She shivered. “He’s not a murderer.” Aware that their heated conversation was beginning to garner attention, she said, “Now, I really must be going.”

  Landon paid her no mind. “Laurel, sweetheart, you are so naïve. Of course he’s a murderer. I’m sure he killed during the war.”


  The fierce thread of disdain in his voice struck her as strange. Eyeing him curiously, she asked, “Didn’t you? I thought all men did such things on the battlefield.” Noticing he looked increasingly uncomfortable, she added, “I thought you were in several battles. Did you not fight the enemy then?”

  “That was different.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m not about to taint your ears with tales from the battlefield,” he replied, his voice hard. “All you need to know is that I was a gentleman during the war. I fought with honor.”

  “But Mr. Baker didn’t? How can that be?”

  “Obviously this isn’t a subject you are ready to discuss rationally. It isn’t the right time or place either.”

  “You are right about that,” she said before she could stop herself. Oh, it was certainly discomfiting how she’d started to become so used to speaking her mind. Discomfiting but exciting too. After spending most of her life holding her tongue and letting men tell her what to do, she was learning to be more like her mother had become during the war, to voice her opinion. Even make decisions on her own, like the one she’d made today. It made her feel stronger. She didn’t want Landon’s help. She didn’t need to marry someone she didn’t love to save her ranch.

  “Now, I really must go, Landon. Judge Orbison is going to wonder where I am.”

  “I’ll come check on you in a few days,” he blurted. “That man needs to know you are not alone in the world.”

  “That is so kind of you,” she said in a slightly exaggerated sweet tone before rushing away.

  But just as she placed her hand on the judge’s office doorknob, Geneva Forte pushed her way through the crowd.

  “This is so exciting, Laurel. You buying a man is surely the most exciting thing that’s happened in weeks, if not months.”

  Laurel couldn’t help but agree even if Geneva, like Landon, had misunderstood what she’d done. However, unlike Landon’s comments, Geneva’s prattle was not mean-spirited. Just a tad vacuous. “It’s taken me by surprise too.”

  “Are you nervous about having him on your property?”

  She stopped to think about it. By all rights, Laurel knew she should be shaking in her shoes. But instead of feeling nervous, she felt completely at peace with her decision. She needed Mr. Baker’s help, and for some reason she trusted him to give it. “No, I’m not nervous at all.”

  Looking eager, Geneva leaned closer. “Can I meet him one day soon? I promise I’ll be everything proper.”

  “He’s coming to work for me, Geneva. He needs to look after cattle and mend fences. You probably won’t even see him.”

  Her blue eyes batted. “But can I?”

  Laurel wasn’t sure why, but everything in her body was rejecting Geneva’s question. She didn’t want the woman flirting with the sergeant or gazing at him too long, or even making him uncomfortable. Hadn’t he already been through too much?

  “I’m sorry, but I’d rather you not visit anytime soon.”

  “Sure?”

  “Maybe you can in a few months.” She smiled to ease the rejection. “Now, I need to go,” Laurel said as she put her hand on the knob. “But, hey, Genie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Help me with Landon, would you, please? Go smile at him or something. The last thing I want to tackle right now is him and his misplaced attempt to protect me.”

  As Laurel had hoped, her girlfriend looked excited about the task. With a bright smile, she turned toward Landon, who was still lurking nearby, watching Laurel with a cool expression.

  When Landon’s gaze skittered from Laurel to Geneva, her girlfriend started walking in his direction in a slow glide. It was her trademark move. Impossible for most women to accomplish anywhere but on a ballroom floor, Geneva had mastered effortlessly strolling across any surface by the time she was fourteen.

  Finally opening the door, Laurel smiled to herself. Even Landon Marshall would be no match for that.

  An hour later, standing beside the very tall Thomas Baker, Laurel wondered if she had overestimated her gumption.

  He was a large man. Taller and more filled out than he’d looked when he was cooped up in a cage or lined up with other men against her fence. It seemed Mr. Baker also had an air about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It wasn’t aggressive, but she sensed he would never be a passive kind of man either. Instead, he appeared to be tightly wound and watchful. Almost as if he had all kinds of thoughts and ideas floating just under the surface.

  This new air about him might also have something to do with his appearance. He was no longer dirty, no longer wearing a bloodstained shirt and ill-fitting trousers.

  Instead, he was outfitted in all new clothes, from his leather boots to his snug-fitting denims to his crisp white shirt and tan Stetson.

  In short, he looked extremely dashing. So fine and handsome that every woman they passed was going to take a second and third look at him. So fine that Laurel was going to wonder how she’d ever felt sorry for him.

  After they both signed the papers Judge Orbison prepared, they had walked silently through town, him carrying a small bag with, she supposed, all his earthly possessions. Eyes seemed to follow them from every window and doorway. She wondered if most everyone understood her reasons for hiring a convict or was simply shocked.

  She imagined it was a little of both.

  Now they were standing by her buggy and her horse, Velvet, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Thomas was capable and powerful. Years ago, her father and brother had looked out for her. They’d taught her to expect all men to treat her with care. But the war had certainly changed things. She’d learned that not all men respected women. She’d also learned not to count on any help, not even from her stepbrother, Jerome. And she didn’t want help from Landon.

  But she was Thomas Baker’s employer. And though he was certainly dashing, he was no gentleman. Surely that meant she should drive the buggy?

  She worried her bottom lip.

  Was it even right for her to trust him? What if she gave him the reins, only to be thrown off the buggy so he could be on his way? He had broken the law, after all. She should never forget that.

  After no doubt watching her internal debate for a few moments, Mr. Baker cleared his throat. “Miss Tracey?”

  She popped up her chin. Looking into his eyes, she realized that was a mistake and shifted her gaze to stare just to the right of him instead. “Uh, yes?”

  “I know we’re standing on the street and everything, but it occurs to me this might be a good time to clear up a few things.”

  Forcing herself to look him directly in the eye, she said, “What would you like to clear up?”

  Approval sure and solid slid into his expression before he appeared to collect himself. Clasping his hands behind his back, he took a deep breath and looked just to the right of her. “Well, first thing, what would you like me to call you? I heard the judge and sheriff call you Laurel. May I call you Miss Laurel? Or would you prefer Miss Tracey?”

  His voice was low and soft. She knew he was speaking gently to her on purpose. “Miss . . .” She shook her head to clear it. Suddenly she didn’t want even that barrier between them. “I mean, Laurel would be just fine.”

  His eyes settled on hers. “I don’t think so, miss. Seeing as how I work for you, it wouldn’t be right.”

  She realized he had a point, though she felt a bit disconcerted by the way he was leading the conversation. “Miss Laurel should do as well as anything. Now, should I call you Mr. Baker?”

  To her shock, he chuckled. “Definitely not. I’ve never been called that in my life and I don’t aim to start now. In the army, I was a sergeant, Sergeant Baker. But since I’m not in the military any longer, I reckon either Baker or Thomas will do.”

  She had noticed something—a note of pride in his voice when he talked about the army. It wasn’t the vague, prideful way Landon had talked about his year in the service.

  No, Thomas Baker’s milit
ary career had meant something to him. Meant a lot to him. For some reason, that made her feel good. Everyone needed to have some pride in their life. “I think, if you don’t mind, I’ll simply call you Sergeant.”

  Doubt clouded his eyes. “I don’t know . . .”

  “I do. You were a sergeant, right? I mean, that’s not a lie?”

  “No, miss. That is not a lie.”

  “Then Sergeant you will be, at least for now.”

  His lips twitched, as if he admired her spunk and was caught off guard by it all at the same time. “Yes, miss.”

  “Are we settled now, Sergeant?”

  “Not exactly.” Pulling back his shoulders even more, he continued. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust a word I say, but I swear to you I will never harm you. Never. I’ll even swear it on a stack of Bibles if you want.”

  She was shocked by his offer, but pleased. “There is no need for that. I believe you.”

  “You do?”

  “I wouldn’t have hired you today if I didn’t trust you.”

  Slowly a smile—a rather cocky smile—appeared on his lips. “I’m glad we got that cleared up. Therefore, Miss Laurel, would you be so kind as to allow me to help you into your buggy? Then I will drive you home.”

  “I trust you actually do know how to handle a carriage?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Take care with Velvet too. She’s a little skittish and requires a tender touch.”

  “You got me from prison, but I wasn’t born there, Miss Laurel,” he drawled. “I’ll take care with your horse.”

  She felt herself flush. Realizing it was time to rectify the conversation, she nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant. Having you drive would be helpful.”

  “Yes, miss.” Looking like he was attempting to conceal a smile, he held out a hand. “Miss Laurel?”

  Gingerly, she placed her gloved hand in his hand, then started when he carefully placed his other hand on her waist to steady her ascent. But just as quickly, his hand pulled away. She decided to remain facing forward as he got in beside her, took hold of the reins, and flicked them lightly.