An Uncommon Protector

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  She simply nodded.

  “Thank you. Now let’s get you to the house so you can have those glasses of water.”

  The house’s proximity seemed to blur now. It teased her eyesight. Every time she was sure they’d reach it within a few minutes, it seemed to bounce farther backward. “These last few yards feel the longest, don’t they?”

  “They always seem to,” he said.

  She figured truer words had never been said.

  They walked quietly side by side until they reached the bend and saw that both horses had returned and were standing near the front of the barn. Velvet was watching Laurel intently, almost as though she’d never seen her owner walking down the lane.

  “Thomas, I can’t believe Velvet and Yellow are here. I never imagined they would have both come home.”

  “They are smart horses, to be sure.” When they got near the house, Yellow turned his head and whickered in their direction. Thomas grinned. “That horse is quite full of himself. I do believe he’s looking at us in confusion. As if he’s wondering what took us so long!”

  Laurel found herself giggling. “I’m sure you’re right.” Now that they’d reached the front porch, she said, “Let’s go get some water before you do anything with the horses.”

  “No. First, you wait out here a minute.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to walk through the house to make sure it’s safe.”

  She was exhausted. She was dirty. She also wanted to take a much-needed break from the stress and danger they’d been under in the last few hours.

  But she had obviously been terribly naïve. She hadn’t even imagined they could still be in danger. A shiver ran up her spine. “Surely you don’t think those men are lying in wait for us.”

  “I hope not, but we can’t know what they’re capable of or predict what they’ll do.” His expression was cold and hard, illustrating just how upset he was about the day’s events—and how serious he was about staying vigilant. “Stay here while I go inside, Laurel.”

  She hadn’t been afraid, but now she didn’t want to be alone. Suddenly every outbuilding and corner of the house looked like an ideal place for someone to be hiding. “I want to go inside with you.”

  “Honey, if there’s trouble, I’d rather not worry about guarding you.”

  “If there could be trouble inside, it could be lurking around here as well. Thomas, I don’t want to face it alone.”

  After studying her for a long moment, he held out a hand, his rifle in the other. “Come along, then.”

  Slipping her fingers into his clasp felt right.

  When they walked in, she steeled herself to see overturned furniture or damage, or worse, bandits sitting on her settee and calmly waiting for them.

  But everything looked exactly how they’d left it all those hours ago. As they walked down the hall and up the stairs, Laurel found herself peeking tentatively around corners and keeping a death grip on Thomas’s calloused hand.

  “Do you think they’ve been here?”

  “It doesn’t look like it.” His voice sounded noncommittal as he guided her into Bess’s old room, her mother’s old sewing room, and then his bedroom.

  She hadn’t been inside since he’d taken it over. She was surrounded by his usual scent and a plethora of discarded items on one of the dressers. Otherwise, his bed was neatly made and his clothes were hanging on pegs on the far wall.

  “Does everything seem like you left it?”

  “I reckon so.” He walked her down the hall to her bedroom. After pausing at her doorway, he let loose of her hand and walked around the room. “Was this your parents’ room?”

  “Yes. I moved into it when Bess and Jerome came. Otherwise they would have taken it over.”

  “It’s a pretty room. I’m glad you’re sleeping here.”

  “Thank you.” She noticed he was examining every nook and cranny the same way she’d looked in his room. In a way that had little to do with looking for signs of trouble and everything to do with looking for signs of her.

  She thought he was imagining her in it.

  A new tension festered as she realized that such a thing wouldn’t bother her.

  Eager to dispel it, she cleared her throat and tried to focus on their safety, not the curious feelings sparking inside her. “Maybe they don’t know where I live?”

  “There’s no telling what they know.”

  When he walked out of her bedroom, then headed down the stairs, she followed on his heels. She was starting to get the feeling that he knew far more than he was letting on. She hoped he’d share.

  He stopped outside the bathing room at the back of the main house. “I think everything is as tight and secure as we can hope for.”

  “Thank you for checking on everything. It’s very kind of you.”

  “Not kind, Miss Tracey. This is why you have me working here for you.”

  She felt a little deflated, though she knew what Thomas was doing. He was reminding both himself and her of their roles and relationship.

  She realized he needed that line drawn once again as much as she probably did. Therefore, she didn’t argue the point but merely nodded.

  He looked relieved. “I think it’s safe for you to take your bath now.”

  “Did you forget? I need to have my seven glasses of water first. And you need some too,” she teased.

  To her relief, he smiled. “I can hardly wait.”

  She was thankful he didn’t protest. Instead, he followed her to the kitchen, stood by one of the rows of cabinets as she retrieved two heavy stoneware mugs, then accepted his mug gratefully after she poured some water she’d kept in the ice chest.

  Oh, but that first sip felt and tasted like heaven! Laurel drained her mug in record time. Just as she was about to pick up the pitcher, Thomas took it from her hands and refilled their mugs. Again they quickly drained them.

  After the third round, he set his mug on the counter. “Thank you. That helped a lot.”

  “Are you done already? You can have as much as you want.”

  His gaze settled on her before he turned with a jerk. “I’ll get some water from the spigot in the barn. I need to see to the horses.”

  “But—”

  “And you need to see to yourself,” he said lightly, his blue eyes lingering on what had to be her sunburned face. “You need to take your bath and rest your feet.”

  “You’ll come back inside after you see to the horses?”

  His expression was almost tender when he replied, “Of course I will. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I’ve returned.”

  After she heard the kitchen door open and shut, she carefully pulled off her boots, then walked as best she could upstairs on her sore, blistered feet.

  When she got to her room, she gathered some clean clothes, then hobbled back to the bathing room. She was looking forward to this bath like she hadn’t looked forward to one in years. Almost like it was going to be a life-changing experience!

  Or maybe it was? This bath was going to remove all the dirt and grime from their horrifying journey. And serve to remind her that she had survived it, and grown stronger too.

  Returning to the kitchen, Laurel turned on the spigot, then set about heating water, all while drinking as much cold water as she could. When at last the tub was filled with enough warm water to be both practical and relaxing, she sighed, feeling as if she’d just accomplished a great feat.

  Sitting on the side of the tub, she winced at the condition of her feet. She hadn’t been wrong. She had some terrible, broken blisters on her toes, heels, and the pad of one of her feet. For some reason they began to sting more when the fresh air came in contact with them.

  Gingerly, she stepped into her tub and allowed the warm water to soothe her sore feet for a couple of minutes. And then she went about the process of becoming as clean as she possibly could, focusing on dirt and sores instead of what they’d just overcome. If she dwelled on how close they’d come to dying or bei
ng seriously hurt, Laurel knew she wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.

  She’d just finished slipping on a fresh dress and combing out her hair when she heard Thomas calling.

  “You decent?” he teased.

  “Of course.” Striding from the main house into the kitchen, she said, “I’ll heat you up some water, Thomas. You start gathering a towel and your things.”

  After he had everything he needed, he closed the bathing room door behind him. Then, in the kitchen, though Laurel knew she needed to concentrate on making something for them to eat, she couldn’t seem to do anything other than imagine him getting undressed, filling the tub with cool water, then adding the hot water little by little to make it more comfortable. He would test the temperature, running his hands through the water again and again.

  Finally, at last, he would lean back against the metal side and wash his skin.

  Her face and neck heated.

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks, attempting to clear her head. There was no reason to dwell on his ablutions. After all, he was doing nothing that she hadn’t just done herself.

  It just seemed different somehow.

  Because, she realized, she was different. And her feelings for him were different too. This realization was as much a surprise as anything else that had happened to them today.

  Suddenly, she knew. She was falling in love with Thomas Baker.

  22

  THOMAS MIGHT HAVE BEEN TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD, BUT he wasn’t too old to appreciate the soothing comfort of a warm bath. From his time on the streets to the war to this very moment, he hadn’t had all that many opportunities to luxuriate as much as he was in this private room while resting in a half-filled tub of water.

  Picking up the bar of soap Laurel left him, he noticed that it smelled good, like lavender. It felt good on his skin too. It didn’t burn or sting.

  It was a woman’s soap. Laurel’s.

  Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment to think about her, to think about how close he’d come to losing her. It had scared him half to death. It would have been a tragedy if he’d lost her. If the world lost someone so precious.

  His heart pounded like a dozen horses’ hooves every time he recalled hearing the gunshots and forcing her onto the ground. He’d always been a praying man. But in those precious few moments, he’d felt as if he couldn’t pray enough or hard enough for the Lord to be with them at that moment.

  He’d been willing to do anything to keep her safe.

  His objectives hadn’t changed after they began their long walk home. He’d kept a vigilant eye about them, ready to shoot whoever or whatever attempted to disrupt their journey.

  After the first couple of hours, when his breathing had slowed and he no longer felt as though he were standing in the eye of a hurricane, he’d begun to watch her even more closely.

  He was aware of each tentative step of hers, each pained expression. He noticed when she stumbled, when she swatted at a hornet, when her lips had turned chapped. He noticed it all.

  The only thing he hadn’t seemed to notice was that she’d injured her feet.

  He was torn about what to do about his attraction to her. Part of him didn’t exactly blame himself. He was a man who’d been given precious few sweet things in life.

  Most of the time he’d been given only the leftovers, what no one else wanted. His only exception had been his relationships with the other men in Captain Monroe’s unit.

  Those were the best men he’d ever met, and he’d felt as if the Lord had given him those men’s regard as a gift for all that he’d endured in his lifetime.

  He’d certainly never had the opportunity to be around a woman like Laurel.

  As he rested in his bath and imagined what she was doing in the kitchen, Thomas knew he didn’t deserve a woman like her. But he didn’t care.

  The fact of the matter was that he needed Laurel. He needed her, and he wasn’t ready to give her up. Not now.

  Maybe not ever.

  It might even be for her own good. If the rest of the men in Sweetwater were anything like that arrogant Landon Marshall, he doubted any of them could treat her as well or care for her as completely as he could. It might have been his pride showing, but he knew no other man around those parts was any better for her than he was.

  It seemed God had given him a gift in Laurel. And though he was far from perfect, she needed him, just like he needed her. To turn his back on her at this moment, when she needed him the most, would be like turning his back on one of the best presents he’d ever received.

  “Thomas?” she called out. “I mean, Sergeant?”

  He smiled to himself. No matter how hard her heart told her otherwise, Laurel was still attempting to keep their relationship businesslike. When she remembered.

  He decided to answer her in kind. “Miss?” he called right back, smiling as he rested naked as the day he was born, leaning against the back of the tub.

  “Would you mind if we had eggs and spoon bread for supper? I know it’s not much.”

  “It’s everything. It’s perfect.”

  “I’ll get to work on it when you get done. But take your time,” she said hurriedly.

  “I will. Thank you.”

  When he heard her move away from the door, he smiled again. Then gave in to temptation and closed his eyes. Tried to come to grips with all that had happened to the two of them. He’d almost lost her today.

  He had almost lost himself too.

  And he wasn’t convinced those men had intended only to scare off Yellow and Velvet either. Perhaps it was only thanks to the horses’ good sense to run off as quickly as they did that the gunmen hadn’t shot and killed Laurel’s two fine mounts.

  But why was anyone doing all this?

  The squatters seemed to be gone, so who were these men? Did they really want Laurel to die, and him along with her? Or did they just want her to give up the ranch, thinking she’d be too beaten down and frightened to stay if they killed her cattle and threatened her life? Either way, he imagined Bess and Jerome were the only ones who could benefit from her death, and he doubted Laurel would give them any proceeds from the sale of the place. But he still couldn’t see them as the culprits.

  Then there was Landon Marshall, someone Thomas was sure he couldn’t trust. Was he trying to destroy Laurel’s future on the ranch so she would marry him? But why not just bide his time? Or was he doing this because Thomas was now a threat to getting his way?

  But Laurel had known him a long time, and she didn’t seem afraid of the man, only annoyed. So maybe he would never turn to this kind of violence. Besides, he was rich. Why would he need Laurel’s land anyway? And someone had stolen his supplies in that outbuilding, too, assuming that was the truth.

  What if all the ranches in the area were under some kind of attack?

  He was in over his head.

  Sinking down into the soothing water, he took a deep breath, then let his neck and head submerge. Little by little, his muscles relaxed. He only lifted his head when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer.

  He figured that action was a fitting metaphor for all that had been happening to him. He was close to drowning, and it was only by sheer force of will that he hadn’t yet drowned either himself or Laurel.

  He needed to face facts. There was too much against him and what he had at stake. If he didn’t open his eyes and reach out to others, he could put everything—Laurel, her ranch, her future, and maybe her life—in jeopardy.

  He needed to do whatever it took and whatever he had to do to improve her situation.

  And that meant he had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t continue to try to handle all this on his own. Laurel had someone poisoning her livestock and shooting at her. Both were heinous crimes. Who knew what was next?

  While he felt like he was keeping her safer by sleeping just down the hall, it wasn’t much of a help. Maybe if he could sleep with her in his arms he might ensure her safety for t
he time being.

  But obviously that was not a possibility. And if trouble came stealthily when he was asleep, it wouldn’t matter where he laid his head. Yet he couldn’t stay awake all the time.

  It was also painfully apparent that he couldn’t keep Laurel safe and watch her livestock at the same time. He certainly couldn’t do either of those and hunt down the men who had dared to take aim at her.

  Instinctively, he knew the men in town weren’t the ones he needed to help him. While he might trust the sheriff, he didn’t trust him enough to put Laurel’s life in his hands.

  Therefore, there was only one thing left to do. He would send a telegram to Captain Monroe and ask for help.

  Just as he often called on the Lord to help him find the strength he needed, Thomas realized there was no shame in reaching out to the best men he knew to ask for the same thing.

  Actually, it was comforting and made him feel as though he had finally matured enough to be the man a woman like Laurel needed him to be. It took a strong man to know it wasn’t a sign of weakness to reach out to others.

  Perhaps, at long last, he’d finally become the kind of man he’d always wanted to be. Yes, he’d regained some self-worth in the army, he’d become a man he could be proud of, but he’d never fully become everything he could be.

  Feeling better about himself and his goals, Thomas pulled himself out of the tub, drained it, then hurriedly got dressed. He was eager to tell Laurel about his plans. He was also eager to put her fears to rights. He didn’t want her to worry that he couldn’t take care of her.

  When he entered the kitchen, Laurel was sitting at the table with her feet propped on a chair. Her eyes were at half-mast.

  “Laurel?” he whispered.

  Hearing his voice, she sat up abruptly. “Sorry. I was just taking a rest.”

  “I’m glad you were.” Reminded of how she’d complained about her feet, he took the chair next to where they were resting and studied them.

  They were certainly in a bad way. Her toes looked red and swollen, and there were already scabs and some bleeding. Gently, he picked up one foot and set it on his thigh.

  Her eyes widened as she attempted to free her foot. “There’s no reason to do that, Thomas. My feet are fine.”