An Uncommon Protector

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Yet again, his mouth had gotten him into this mess. If he’d held his tongue, they never would have known what he’d done.

  At last Captain Monroe cleared his throat. “I’m real sorry that happened, Thomas.”

  “Yes, sir. Me too.”

  “What happened after?”

  “After? I lived on the streets.”

  “You didn’t go to any relatives’ homes?”

  “No, sir. I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

  “So you’ve lived on your own since you were eight.”

  “I did until I got a job in a livery around the time I was eleven. I slept and worked there until I was seventeen. And then I enlisted.”

  “And now here you are, living with a bunch of broken men in the middle of a frozen great lake.”

  “Yes. I mean, no, sir.”

  “No?”

  “I may be living in the middle of a frozen lake, but I’m surely not with a bunch of broken men. You all are some of the best men I’ve had the honor of knowing.”

  Major Kelly sighed. “You had to do it, didn’t you, Sergeant?”

  “Do what?”

  “You had to go and prove me wrong. You have shamed me. Made me realize there’s quite a bit of you to admire.”

  “I don’t know about that, sir.”

  “Don’t argue with a major, Thomas,” Robert said. “Let him win this one.”

  Thomas smiled in the dark and kept smiling until his eyes got heavy and snoring reverberated around him.

  Only then did he start to fall asleep, feeling like he’d finally found a home.

  10

  DOING THE RIGHT THING WAS DEFINITELY OVERRATED. IF he hadn’t been so chivalrous, Thomas could very well be sleeping in the comfort of one of Laurel’s extra bedrooms.

  Instead, he was lying on a pile of blankets in the dusty tack room in her barn. Though it wasn’t the most unpleasant bed he’d ever lain upon, it was far from what could have been.

  And that loss, the knowledge that for the first time in a very long while he’d had options and had chosen the worst one, was tough to swallow. Was that what doing the right thing felt like? Finding contentment in discomfort?

  If so, Thomas realized it was going to take some time to get used to. He moved again on his makeshift bed and tried not to wince. The heat made the wounds on his back fester and itch and ache, which in turn kept him awake.

  Realizing he was simply going to have to wait until his body became so exhausted that he fell asleep, Thomas bided his time by chewing on straw and listening to Yellow’s and Velvet’s breathing. The horses’ easy slumber brought back those rare, peaceful memories of being a small boy in his father’s blacksmith shop. He used to sit in the back of the shop, near where the horses were stabled, and listen to the familiar clang and sizzle of his father fashioning horseshoes. The horses had seemed to know that his father cared for them, because they always stood easily, eventually lightly dozing.

  It was a good memory, one of the few he had. It was also far safer to dwell on than the other matter that occupied his mind—his new boss, Miss Laurel Tracey.

  From the time she’d gazed at him with those slightly upturned eyes that seemed to change their hue with every mood, he had been lost.

  Added to the mix were her golden tresses, kissable cheeks, and feminine figure. Though he truly felt respect for her, he was only a man. And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that other thoughts had crossed his mind besides distant, cool respect.

  Even her personality lured him like no other woman’s ever had.

  Without doing any one thing in particular, Laurel Tracey was everything he thought a woman should be. And if he was honest, he’d have to admit it was appealing that she needed a protector. Few people in his life had actually needed him, and he loved that she needed him to help with the ranch, to protect her, and to shield her from the cruel remarks of Bess and Jerome.

  He still couldn’t get over the way those two had belittled her attributes. He found her terribly attractive. He knew he wasn’t the only man to notice her beauty either. The judge was certainly smitten with her, and the sheriff too.

  From what he could tell, half the population of Sweetwater didn’t seem inclined to do much besides covertly stare at Laurel. If he had been her man instead of her new hired hand, he would have stared them all down until they looked away in shame.

  What they didn’t seem to understand—as far as he could tell, anyway—was that Laurel Tracey’s looks weren’t what set her apart from most every other woman. No, there was something more about her. Something far less apparent but far more extraordinary.

  She was kind and generous. Decent and honest. Tenderhearted and sweet. Almost as if she still believed in goodness in the world, even though she had survived a war, just like the rest of them had.

  For the life of him, he couldn’t figure her out. She didn’t act like any woman he’d ever known. Not that he’d known all that many, of course. But still, she was far too trusting. For heaven’s sake, he was a criminal! Surely she knew that meant he didn’t always obey laws or do what was right. She should want to keep her distance from him, not invite him into her home.

  But that was what she’d done.

  He decided right then and there to do everything in his power to look out for her. He didn’t know if he could actually help her save her ranch, but he could definitely make sure she came to no harm while he was there.

  He was looking forward to it too.

  His body relaxed as he imagined her looking at him with gratitude. As if, for a split second, she stared at him with appreciation, like he remembered those officers had in their barracks in prison all those years ago.

  As if he was far more than she’d expected.

  If that happened, he would count himself fortunate indeed.

  He closed his eyes, thinking about her look of wonder. At last, exhausted, he felt himself drifting off to sleep, comforted by the gentle snores of two horses.

  Taylor Orr was a desperate man. He was also running out of time.

  That was the only reason he could give himself for sneaking around Laurel Tracey’s house after one in the morning with a dead calf in his arms.

  Viewing the calf’s suffering and eventual death had brought Taylor no joy. It had only cemented his determination to wrap up this loathsome job as quickly as possible so he could get away.

  That was why he ended up carrying the calf on the back of his mount well beyond the house’s perimeter, then carried it in his arms all the way to Laurel Tracey’s doorstep. He had to be especially quiet with that prisoner sleeping in the barn, but this way there would be no mistake about what had happened. The last thing Taylor wanted was for its owner to mistakenly think the animal died of natural causes if it was found alone. Or worse, not even find it.

  After he deposited the animal in front of her door, he quietly darted back into the shadows and headed to his horse. He had no desire to catch sight of the woman to whom he’d been ordered to cause so much pain.

  He was going to go to his small room in the boardinghouse tonight and sleep until midmorning. By that time, he should hear word of Laurel Tracey contacting the sheriff in fright.

  When that happened, Taylor could let his boss know he was making progress. Surely then he would get another payment.

  Mounting his horse, he quietly urged it into a walk, then a canter. Thought about how getting paid so he could pay off his debts and provide for Dara was worth all this.

  Some things were so worthwhile that they made even the most evil actions justifiable.

  Maybe if he told himself that enough he might actually believe it one day.

  11

  LAUREL COULDN’T SEEM TO STOP CRYING.

  She’d not only slept late, but realized she couldn’t be sure Thomas would automatically care for all her animals. Especially the chickens, since she’d cared for them herself yesterday. Knowing Velvet and Yellow would be anxious for their food, and the hens would need their
grain before they would willingly give up any eggs, and her dairy cow, Bonnet, would need to be milked, she’d thrown on her oldest worn calico dress and did little more than pull her hair into a makeshift braid before splashing water on her face.

  Electing not to even put on shoes since the ground would no doubt be warm already, she scampered down the creaking stairs, threw open the front door, and almost tripped over the dead calf lying just on the other side of the entryway.

  The sight of the sweet young thing, with its vacant brown eyes and stiff body, was so horrible, so unexpected, that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from screaming. Not once, but twice.

  Then, when she realized someone must have placed it on her doorstep in the middle of the night while she was sleeping just up the stairs, she began to sob.

  Who could have done such a thing? Had it been Thomas? Was this stranger she’d invited to live by her side evil?

  Almost in the next breath, she dismissed the idea. Her new worker might be a little rough around the edges, but he wasn’t the type of man to kill baby animals and leave them at her doorstep. That wasn’t who he was.

  Ashamed and alarmed at the train of her thoughts, she pressed her palms over her mouth. Anything to help her regain control. Because if Thomas hadn’t done such a thing, it was someone else.

  Maybe it had been one of those squatters she’d spied a couple of days ago. Everyone knew some of those men were desperate for land, desperate for something to hold on to. Maybe they’d assumed a lone woman, whom they somehow knew was low on assets and money, would be no match for the likes of them.

  Maybe it was someone else, someone who knew her well and knew just what would frighten her the most.

  Regardless of who had done this, the fact remained that someone had been on her land without permission, killed that calf, and stood right outside her door last night.

  All while she’d been in her bed, sound asleep.

  Why, she hadn’t even locked her doors!

  Thinking of how easy it would have been for the trespasser to have entered her home and attacked her, her trembling increased.

  “Miss Laurel, what is it?”

  Dropping her hands, Laurel turned to see Thomas stride toward her. His hair was sticking up this way and that, his denims hung low on his hips, and his chambray shirt was partly unbuttoned. He was barefoot too.

  But what held her gaze the most was the concerned expression he wore. He looked sleepy and unsure and worried. She was no sleuth, but nothing about him indicated he had any inkling of what she’d discovered on her doorstep. It seemed that he, too, had been sleeping while a perpetrator had been lurking about on her land.

  Shivering uncontrollably, Laurel curved her arms around herself in another weak effort to gain control of her emotions.

  “Miss Laurel?” Thomas called out again.

  Running toward the porch steps, he kept his gaze on her. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to you?” His tone darkened with obvious worry. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No. I mean . . . I mean . . . look.”

  His next words froze as he looked down to where she pointed. Then he drew in a sharp breath. “This was here when you came out this morning?” he asked as he knelt down by its side.

  “I almost tripped on it.” Not even caring that sloppy tears were still sliding down her face, she continued, “Look at his size. He can’t be more than a couple of days old. What do you think happened to him?”

  He ran a finger along the calf’s side. “God only knows. He feels cold. I reckon he’s been dead for a while.”

  “Someone brought him here while we were sleeping and put him on my doorstep. Who would do such a thing?”

  “I couldn’t begin to imagine. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this does beat all.”

  Staring at Thomas looking at the little calf, Laurel’s head spun. She needed to take care of the poor animal. Or at least walk around it so she could talk to Thomas without staring at it. Or even go inside.

  But unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to make herself do anything but stand frozen.

  Thomas took the decision away from her. Stepping around the calf, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get you inside. There’s no reason for you to stand out here any longer.”

  Grateful that he was taking charge, she allowed him to usher her inside.

  Once they were in the dim interior of the foyer, Thomas closed the door. The next thing she knew, he was pulling her into a warm hug.

  Laurel knew she was not a small person. She was taller than most women. Her body was rather generous too. She usually felt too large, too ungainly when compared to other, more delicately formed women.

  In Thomas’s arms, however, she felt almost small. Releasing a ragged sigh, she leaned closer to him.

  “You go ahead and cry,” he murmured, hugging her tight as she laid her cheek over his heart and let the tears fall. He was warm, and to her surprise, his skin was smooth.

  Placing both of her hands on his shoulders, she realized that she felt secure. She felt cared for.

  Not alone.

  How long had it been? Since her stepfather and mother died? Her father and brother? When was the last time anyone had held her while she fell apart? When was the last time she’d actually had someplace to fall?

  Far too long ago.

  The next thing she knew, she was crying for the loss of her loved ones. And crying because Thomas was there.

  “It ain’t okay, but I’ll make it that way,” he murmured, making some kind of sympathetic clicking noise with his tongue while one of his hands began to smooth back her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  After giving in to her weakness for another half a minute or so, she straightened and pulled back.

  As he stood tall and strong, looking down on her with an intense expression, Laurel knew she should be blushing like a schoolgirl. Her cheek, her face had been nestled against his bare skin. She’d pressed herself against his body.

  Not only would her behavior have been inappropriate even if they were friends or sweethearts, but it was especially so because she was his employer! She’d released him from his prison less than twenty-four hours ago and now . . . now she was just wrapped in his arms.

  What would he think?

  It was going to be up to her to fix this. Two awkward steps backward carried her even farther away from him. “I seem to be forgetting myself. I’m sorry, Sergeant.”

  He reached out and curved two fingers under her chin. “Why do you feel the need to apologize?” he drawled, his voice rough. “Being upset that some son of a gun placed a dead newborn calf on your doorstep last night? A sight like that would have shaken up most anyone.”

  She shivered. “I can’t believe this happened. It’s awful. But I should have handled it better. I shouldn’t have . . . leapt into your arms the way I did. It was inappropriate.”

  But instead of accepting her apology or making one of his own, her sergeant surprised her. “Stop it,” he ordered. “We’re not going to do this. Not anymore.”

  Caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor, she looked at him in confusion.

  “We’re not going to start apologizing for being human,” he said, his voice hard. Before she could question that comment, he added, “Miss Tracey, Laurel, you have nothing to be sorry for.” When she froze, staring at him in wonder, he continued, his voice sounding more confident. “What you saw, what someone did?” He shook his head. “It’s beyond comprehension.”

  His words, so sure and certain, were able to do something all the voices and doubts in her head hadn’t been able to. Feeling far more calm, she breathed in deep. “What should we do now?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Well, first off, we are not going to do anything.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Instead of explaining, he curved a hand around her elbow. “Miss Laurel, you need to sit down and rest. While you do that, I’ll go take care of tha
t animal. Then we can talk about whether we should ride into town to talk to Sheriff Jackson about it.”

  Though his words made sense, she dreaded the thought of being on display for the second time in two days. “I’m not sure what I want to do.”

  “Miss Laurel, I’ve never been a man with a lot of interest in bringing lawmen into my life, but this might be the exception, don’t you think?” Gentling his voice, he said, “Like you said, that little thing didn’t get here on its own. And I think we can be sure it came from your own herd.”

  “I know. It’s just that I don’t know what anyone else can do. And I’m afraid Sheriff Jackson might even want me to bring back Bess and Jerome so I’m not here alone.” Just imagining how difficult it would be to interact with Thomas while her stepsiblings looked on, she shook her head. “I can’t have them back here.”

  “Of course you can’t, and I won’t let that happen.”

  “You think he’ll listen to you?”

  “I know he will, just as I know you don’t have to do one single thing you don’t want to.” Leading her to the sofa, he said, “Now, take a seat and try to relax.”

  Though she allowed him to guide her, she said, “I can’t simply sit here and do nothing, Sergeant. The horses need to be fed and my cow needs to be milked.”

  “I’ll take care of them.”

  “You will?” she asked in surprise. “The chickens too?”

  Looking a little embarrassed, he said, “I never could abide chickens.”

  There was something about the way he looked when he said “chickens” that made her giggle in spite of the traumatic morning they’d shared. “Are you afraid of a few birds?”

  “Yep. And I’m not ashamed of it neither.”

  “I’ll go take care of the hens, then. And I’ll make some breakfast too.”

  “All right. But please rest for a while first, give me time to do those other chores. Then come out to care for the chickens. You can tell me all about them.”