An Uncommon Protector

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “Until then. Thank you both for coming out.”

  “I wanted to,” Landon said, “even if I’d had no theft. You know how worried I’ve been, thinking about you living here like this.”

  Thomas stayed still and intent until they mounted their horses and took off. Only when their images were blurred in the distance did he speak again. “Does that happen often?”

  “Does what happen? Does the sheriff come out often to pay me a house call? No.”

  Still staring off into the distance, he shook his head. “I’m talking about you getting asked out by your neighbor.”

  “No.” She felt her cheeks heat even though she knew she had no cause for embarrassment. “Mr. Marshall has asked me for a drive before, but never invited me to supper.”

  “I wonder why he’s asking you now.”

  Laurel looked at him curiously. Thomas’s posture hadn’t eased. He was still standing alert in his shiny new boots and dark denims. The new, stiff cowboy clothes should have made him seem awkward. Maybe weak. Perhaps like a greenhorn. Instead, his clothing emphasized his toughness. She was starting to see that, unlike with most men, clothes did not affect him in the slightest. He looked just as dangerous and aloof dressed in a new chambray and denims as he had in his prison garb.

  She swallowed. “To tell you the truth, I think he was always afraid to ask me to supper because of Bess and Jerome.”

  “He wasn’t a big fan of theirs?”

  “He was not. I think he was afraid they’d join me,” she said. “They were truly insufferable.” Before Thomas started asking more questions about Landon, she gestured toward the barn. “I know you’ve been doing some cleaning, but I think we should saddle up the horses now. I want us to check on the cattle. We can be back in time for our noon meal. I’ll go put on a better bonnet and meet you in the barn.”

  Just as she was about to turn away, he called out, “Miss Tracey?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you in the market for a man?”

  She wasn’t sure if she was or not. But because she was all too aware of the way Thomas was looking at her, as though she was something to be sought after, she stated uneasily, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

  “I reckon it isn’t. But it would be good to know.”

  His words made her feel flustered. Maybe a little warm. “That is something you won’t have to worry about, Sergeant. I’m simply a woman trying to hang on to my family’s ranch.”

  “Do you really believe that’s all you are?”

  “I believe I’d rather not discuss my personal life anymore,” she said. She didn’t like the idea of making choices about her future marital status that weren’t based on love. She really didn’t like the idea of thinking about making a future with a man who was nothing like the man she was walking beside.

  “You might aim to pretend you’re ordinary, but nothing could be further from the truth.”

  His words were soft. Kind. Still altogether too personal.

  She ignored that familiar flutter of awareness as she ran inside and switched bonnets.

  Later, when Thomas easily lifted her onto Velvet’s saddle, she did her best to appear unaffected by his touch.

  But instead of easing the tension between them, it seemed to increase it.

  After assuring himself she was situated comfortably, he took hold of her father’s rifle and mounted the gelding.

  “Lead on, miss. Wherever you want to go, I’ll follow.”

  Laurel motioned Velvet forward, trying all the while not to think about how his statement made her feel.

  18

  THOMAS HAD BEEN AN EXCELLENT HORSEMAN AND A PARTICULARLY good soldier. He’d ridden across half of Tennessee and Kentucky during the war without complaint.

  He’d charged into battles, sure the whole time he wouldn’t survive. He’d also been sent on scouting missions, walking through swamps and woods and enemy lines to obtain information. Once he even pretended to be a Yankee lieutenant to procure vital coordinates for Major Kelly.

  He’d ridden beside officers without a hint of uneasiness or self-consciousness. Even when he served under Captain Monroe, he felt fairly sure of his abilities. He attacked each task with the intention of doing his best and hoping it would be good enough. That said, he had many faults—that couldn’t be denied.

  He was impatient and could be emotional. He was barely literate and shamefully ungentlemanly. He was definitely not a good choice to be any woman’s suitor.

  But now, as he accompanied Laurel Tracey across her ranch, Thomas was starting to wonder if he knew himself at all. For the first time in forever, he felt like a weak-kneed greenhorn. He was antsy and uneasy. A sixth sense told him something was about to happen. He just didn’t know what it could be.

  Because of that, he kept gazing around their perimeter as though they were on a dangerous mission.

  No, he felt as if he were a rattler, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. Or a skittish colt, wary of everything in sight. It was disturbing, and more than a little unsettling . . . until he realized he wasn’t worried about them being ambushed.

  No, he was dwelling on the woman beside him. It was she who occupied his mind and kept him on his toes. The problem was, of course, that he was too conscious of Laurel Tracey.

  He doubted she could brush a strand of hair away from her face without his notice.

  Though his infatuation was his fault, he perversely wanted to put the blame firmly on her shoulders. It was Laurel’s fault he was so smitten. She was too pretty, too kind, too delicate. Too everything.

  He was running out of ideas about how to treat her too. When she’d purchased his release, he intended to push aside his attraction to her and simply treat her with the respect she deserved. Keep it as a business arrangement.

  But last night everything had changed.

  The feel of her hands on his back had ignited a need he’d forgotten he’d ever possessed. Her tenderness and care had washed over his heart the way the warm water had soothed his skin.

  And those feelings had encouraged him to think about all the wishes and dreams he buried when his parents and brother died so long ago. Then, just when he had a handle on himself, he had gone and accidentally spied her bedroom. That hadn’t helped matters one bit. He hadn’t been able to get out of there fast enough.

  A night of fitful sleep, as all along he assumed she was down the hall from him, had only sent the rest of his body on alert. He’d lain in bed on his stomach, wishing it had been his sore, aching back that occupied his mind. But instead of reviewing his injuries, Thomas spent hours remembering the conversations he and Laurel had shared.

  By the time he got up with the sun, he’d almost convinced himself he had the two of them firmly back in place in his mind. She was the owner of the ranch. He was her hired hand. For one year he would do his best to help her keep the ranch afloat. In three hundred sixty-five days, he would leave and never see her again.

  That was what was supposed to happen. Somehow, over time, he was sure he was going to accept that and be fine with it.

  After finding her asleep on the sofa, he vowed to continue this plan. It almost felt as though it was possible.

  But then Sheriff Jackson and Landon Marshall arrived, and he saw the way Marshall gazed at Laurel.

  Then and there, Thomas had realized there was no way he was going to be able to sit by and watch another man court her. It had come on suddenly, but the possessiveness he’d felt had been so strong he didn’t even attempt to tamp it down. Some emotions couldn’t be hidden.

  That was why, when Marshall asked Laurel to come to his home for supper tomorrow, his first instinct had been to step completely in front of her and refuse the man’s proposal.

  He’d had to make do with gritting his teeth while Marshall cajoled and Sheriff Jackson looked on like a doting father. The only bright spot was that he’d made sure he was the one who was going to take her back and forth. At least then she would be under
his protection.

  Watching Marshall put his hand on Laurel had been the last straw, but somehow he managed not to shove him away from her, letting her manage him herself.

  Still, when the men left, Laurel hadn’t been happy with him. He didn’t care. He aimed to see her safe. Unfortunately for her, the only place he could be sure she was completely safe was by his side.

  All the time.

  Now, as they rode, Laurel pointed out various landmarks he might have missed on the ride he’d taken alone. Thomas pretended to be attentive, but all he really did was attempt to figure out a way for her to accept him as a suitor one day.

  It was likely only another one of his daydreams, but he couldn’t resist imagining such a thing actually happening.

  “As you can see, the creek isn’t wide, but it stays filled most of the year,” Laurel called, bringing him back to the present.

  “Most?” He raised his eyebrows. Now that she’d caught his attention, he wasn’t real pleased with the news she was giving him.

  “We have dry spells from time to time, but that’s rare.”

  He glanced to his right and left but didn’t see anything other than more of the same rolling hills. “Where do you run the cattle when that happens?”

  “There’s a good-sized pond on our southwest. The family that owns it is fair and doesn’t object if other ranchers use it from time to time. My father and brother used to take the herd there when needed.”

  “That’s generous of them.”

  “Indeed. They’re good people, but older. They wouldn’t be a lot of help if I had to lead my herd to their property. Thank the Lord, I haven’t had to do that yet.”

  He hated the thought of her having to do so much on her own. To cover up his unease, he teased, “Are you thanking the Lord because you don’t like the terrain or don’t like moving cows?”

  She grinned. “Both, I suppose. I have no problem with managing one or two or three cows at a time. When they are in a large group? I can’t explain it, but they still intimidate me.”

  “That’s not so surprising. Rounding up cattle can be arduous for the most experienced cowboy.”

  “Thank you for not saying it’s difficult for a woman.”

  “I would be lying if I didn’t admit to feeling concerned about a little thing like you taking on so much. You could get hurt.”

  Even in the broad sunlight, he could tell her cheeks flushed. “Only you would say I’m little.”

  Before he could reassure her, Laurel fanned her face. “Forgive me. I’m not usually so eager to fish for compliments.”

  “I never thought you were. And you weren’t fishing. You were just being your usual modest self.”

  Smiling, she tucked her head. He let her take the lead again, happy to lazily scan the area while she told him more of the land’s history.

  About twenty minutes later, they rounded the top of a hill. “Here they are,” she said as they looked down on the small herd of cattle, their brown-and-white hides standing out against the pale-green grass like Easter eggs.

  “Good-looking cattle,” he said.

  “They’re in good health. Some of them must be farther up the creek, but their numbers are increasing. Altogether we have twenty now.” She blanched. “Would have been twenty-one.”

  “Don’t think of that,” he said quickly. “It does no good to dwell on the past.”

  She swallowed. “You’re right. Well, tomorrow or the next day we’ll need to guide all of them to another pasture.” She turned to him. “I just realized herding cattle might be a new experience for you. I hope cattle don’t intimidate you too.”

  “Not yet, miss. Those cows and I should get along just fine.”

  “You sound as if you’ve worked with your fair share of cattle.”

  “Some.” Eyeing a mother heifer nudging her calf, he continued, “My father was a blacksmith. I was used to being around animals at a young age, and I worked in a livery before I went into the army, where I also worked with horses. And when I first got out, I did some odd jobs, one on a ranch.”

  “You’ve always been a hard worker, haven’t you?”

  “Learning quickly helped garner me extra nights on a cot. I’ve never been a fan of sleeping on the ground.”

  All traces of humor vanished from her expression. “I’m so sorry, Sergeant. You’ve had such a difficult time of it. Even after the war you were jailed.”

  “That was my fault. I was attempting to make some money in the wrong way and lost in a poker game to a pair of powerful men. I deserved what I got.”

  “You certainly didn’t deserve to be beaten.”

  “Maybe not. However, it’s all over now.” He smiled her way. “Thanks to you.”

  “Don’t thank me too much. You’re going to be working hard for me over the next year.”

  “I’m planning on it. The hard work will do me good.”

  Their conversation turned easy as they continued on, riding along the filled creek bed. Eventually they slowed their pace to a walk. The sun was bright overhead and sent the temperatures skyrocketing. The shade from trees by the creek was a welcome relief.

  Velvet whickered, showing her appreciation. Yellow, on the other hand, pranced a bit, illustrating his displeasure with the slower pace.

  Thomas had been about to suggest they dismount and allow the horses to drink, but he quickly discarded that idea. Until Yellow got over whatever was making him so skittish, he would likely be difficult to control.

  Since Laurel didn’t mention a need to stop, Thomas stayed quiet and concentrated on examining the area, looking for traces of squatters. He was so focused on tracking he only half listened as Laurel continued talking about the history of her family’s land ownership.

  “Oh!” she called out, interrupting herself.

  “What?”

  “Oh no!” she whispered as she motioned Velvet into a canter.

  “Miss Laurel, what is it? Please slow down and—” He stopped talking as he caught sight of what had her in its grip.

  At least six cows were lying on the ground in front of them. From the position of their bodies and the flies buzzing about them, it was obvious they were dead—and that they hadn’t died of natural causes.

  “Stay here,” he barked as he dismounted, then hurriedly tied his reins to a nearby tree.

  She ignored him.

  More quickly than he had thought a woman could move in long skirts, Laurel leapt off Velvet and hurried to his side without bothering to tether her horse.

  Thomas didn’t know whether to order her to see to her mare or reach for her hand. Ultimately, he decided to do neither. He needed to focus on the poor cows and attempt to discern what had happened. As he approached, he noticed a pungent smell first. It wasn’t death as such; it had more of a copper tint to it.

  It was the scent of blood, the scent he would know anywhere, thanks to three years of standing in the middle of bloody battlefields.

  Instinctively, he turned to the horses. If he’d been riding his old mount, Settler would have been dancing awkwardly and breathing hard. Thomas was having a difficult time not reacting to the scent of blood himself, even after all this time.

  It was impossible to breathe in the scent and not be reminded of death and danger. However, neither mount looked ready to bolt. Their nostrils were flared and their ears were standing up, alert. But beyond that they seemed calm enough.

  Stepping closer, he resolutely pushed the scent from his mind and scanned the ground for the evidence he was looking for. Eventually he did find blood, but it wasn’t from either a bullet or a blade. Instead, it looked as if the steers were bleeding from their mouths.

  It looked to him like they’d been poisoned.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. As Laurel said before, killing cattle made no sense. Especially in war-torn times like these, cattle were a valuable asset. No man he’d ever come into contact with, no matter what issues he might have with his enemies, would seek vengeance by kil
ling five head. That was a waste of good money and a squandering of thousands of future dollars.

  “This is terrible. No, it’s worse than that. It’s . . . it’s a tragedy,” Laurel whispered. “I don’t understand how someone could do something like this.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “What happened to them?” she whispered.

  “My guess is they were poisoned.”

  She looked around. “Thomas, over there. What’s that?”

  A paper had been nailed to a tree next to the creek. Thomas opened it.

  “It’s a note. It says, ‘Next time the kerosene will go in the creek.’”

  Just as Laurel gasped, they heard a rustling in the distance, followed by a loud crack.

  Unfortunately, Thomas was as familiar with that noise as he was with the scent of blood. Grabbing her arm, he forced her to the ground and covered her body with his own.

  “Thomas!” she called out. “I can hardly breathe. I’m lying facedown in the dirt.”

  “Settle,” he ordered as he braced his hands on either side of her, lifting his chest and shoulders so he could scan the distance.

  But instead of serving to calm her, she fought him with a cry. Her efforts were futile. He was far bigger and heavier.

  “Laurel, calm yourself. Someone fired a weapon,” he said in a low voice.

  To his surprise, she stopped thrashing. “Do you think someone is hunting?”

  “Maybe.” He shifted slightly, giving her a bit more space. “Could be one of those squatters you mentioned you saw.”

  She shivered.

  Though he longed to hold her close and comfort her, military training kicked in. He concentrated on their surroundings, attempted to find a place where Laurel could remain safe and out of danger.

  A minute passed. Another two.

  Just when he was about to exhale, he heard another rustling, followed by another sharp crack. As Laurel’s shoulders began to shake, he bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t let out a stream of the vilest curse words he could think of.

  Whoever was out there was coming closer.