“Dirk’s alive?”
“Mitch hogtied him in the boardinghouse. And though Dirk wore a mask when he helped rob Katie’s coach, she was able to recognize the voice. He didn’t admit anything, though, until Logan accused him of shooting the shotgun rider and claimed he’d hang for it. Only then did Dirk admit it was Quinton who’d killed the man. Just as it was Quinton who killed Albert and your cousin.”
“John Paul’s dead?”
“Yeah. His body was found not far out of town.”
Silver closed her eyes, silently said her goodbyes. Whatever John Paul had done wrong, she’d loved him.
Opening her eyes she asked, “Did Dirk ever say what they’d planned for Marietta?”
“No. He wasn’t foolish enough to do that, but Logan and I agree the bank was likely the target.”
She nodded. It was the only thing worth coming into town for.
“I didn’t tell anyone, Silver. Owen, Mitch, Logan, Wade, and Scott and their wives know the truth, but nobody else. As far as the rest of the town is concerned, it was a robbery gone wrong. Nobody else needs to know.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong. The reverend deserves the truth but I want to tell him myself.”
“I think he’ll appreciate that,” Shane agreed.
“It’s really over?”
Shane nodded. “It really is.”
While she couldn’t deny she was relieved, that it felt as though a boulder had lifted from her shoulders, it didn’t ease the pain in her chest. Because though he’d said he’d loved her, said he’d forgiven her, he hadn’t said anything about a future.
He still wasn’t. But he did lean over again and, this time, his lips found hers. His kiss was soft, sweet, and full of promise.
“I love you Silver Adams.”
She hadn’t cried much in her life. She’d made up for in the past week. She made up for it some more now.
“My name is Sylvia Ward, though John Paul and the others mostly called me Sil. When I left I took on the name Silver, as it was close enough to Sylvia, and I added my father’s name, Adam, as my surname.”
“Both are fine names but I won’t lie, I’m partial to Silver. It suits you.”
“Like I said before, it’s who I am.”
“Good, now that we got that all sorted.” He rose, moved to the chair where he’d left his vest and lifted something from its pocket. Silver knew what it was immediately and her heart no longer hurt. It sang.
Sitting next to her again Shane said, “I wanted to wait until you were healed but, honest to God, I think we’ve waited long enough.”
He slid the ring on her finger. “Silver Adams, will you be my wife?”
For the first time in too long, happy tears slipped from her eyes.
“I was scared, Shane. Not of dying, although it wasn’t high on my list. I was scared I’d lost you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He grinned, kissed her again. “I’ll remind you of that when I annoy you.”
“Which should be at least once a day I expect.”
He laughed. The sound buoyed her spirits even more. If they rose any higher they’d reach the stars outside.
“Then you’ll marry me?”
“Yes,” she replied with all the love she had to give. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Silver shut the door behind the last guest, locked the saloon and leaned against the door. It had been more than two weeks since she’d awakened from the shooting. While she’d been up and about and had received a few friends, Shane had been adamant she rest and recover and had hovered like a vulture to ensure she did.
This morning, he’d surprised her with a trip to the Parker ranch. It still amazed her that none of them held her past against her. She’d apologized, of course, for the lies. They’d accepted then dismissed the entire thing. She still felt sometimes it was more than she deserved but she was going to take it all the same.
Just as she’d taken coming back from an afternoon picnic after leaving the ranch to find her saloon full to bursting. Shane had enlisted Letty’s help in organizing a surprise party for Silver to celebrate her recovery. She’d nearly fallen over when she’d come in and found everyone, including several women, waiting for her.
She’d accepted hugs, congratulations on both her recovery and their engagement. She, of course, had the chance to thank them for their concern while she’d been sick. It still amazed her to know they’d cared enough to sit in vigil, to send food and flowers.
Apparently it paid to get shot. Not that she ever wanted to repeat it.
“Are you tired?”
She smiled at her fiancé. “A little. I can’t believe you did all this. For me.”
Looking far too smug, Shane smiled and walked toward her. He set his hands on the door over her head, leaned over her.
“I’d do anything for you, honey.”
He lowered his mouth, kissed her long and hard and, for the first time since she’d awaken from her ordeal, slid his tongue alongside hers. Passion flamed instantly. It swept through her body, warmed her breasts, and settled between her thighs. Silver moaned, dug her fingers into his hair, toppling his hat in the process. Then she backed him toward a table. It was afternoon but it was Sunday and Shane had closed the drapes while she’d said goodbye to the last of her guests. Now it was just the two of them. In her saloon. She smiled against his lips.
“What are you doing?” he asked between kisses.
Silver tugged his shirt from his pants, unbuttoned his vest and slid her hands up into his shirt, reveling in the hard muscles of his chest.
“I remember you telling me about a fantasy you had with us in this saloon. Something to do with a table,” she added with a knowing grin.
He shook his head but the action contradicted the lust darkening his eyes. “You’re still healing. It’s why I’ve been keeping my hands to myself.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.” She slipped her own around his waist, dipped them into his pants and grabbed his buttocks.
“Silver.” He hissed. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
“Well, stop. Shane, it’s been weeks.”
She stepped away, opened the buttons on her blouse, tossed it aside. Her skirt fell to the floor.
Sweat beaded his brow. “Silver, you’re not up for this.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” Then she stripped to the skin, lay back onto the table. “What’ll it be, Shane?”
“The death of me.” He laughed as he struggled out of his own clothes. “But at least I’ll die a happy man.”
The End
If you enjoyed A Sheriff’s Passion, you’ll love the next books in...
The Frontier Montana series
Small town, Montana. There is no shortage of gumption and grit in these hard-working folks and one thing rings true for them all: they love big as the Montana sky. Strolling the boardwalk between the false-fronted businesses, locals are likely to meet ranchers, cowboys, lawmen, gamblers, saloon owners, and a woman veterinarian to name a few. Welcome to Marietta, Montana.
Book 1: A Ranchers’ Surrender
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Book 2: A Cowboy’s Temptation
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Book 3: A Sheriff’s Passion
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A Rancher’s Surrender
Michelle Beattie
Book 1 in The Frontier Montana series
Copyright © 2016
Montana Territory
May 1882
“They’re not going to get here in time.”
Wade Parker ran a frustrated hand under his hat. What was taking so long? He wondered. He’d sent for the veterinarian almost an hour ago. Once he’d realized he’d had no other choice.
“They’ll be here soon, son. But the way the rain’s coming down, it’ll slow down old Doc and Scott.” James rested a calloused ha
nd on Wade’s shoulder. “Go check on the cow again, and I’ll have a look outside.”
Wade had been taught from a very young age that no matter how bad things got, there was always something to be thankful for. And right now, he was thankful for two things. One, for James. Not only had James been foreman of the Triple P for as long as Wade could remember, he was also a friend. A friend who, at times like these, reminded Wade no matter how bad things got, he had family and friends to see him through.
The other thing Wade was damn glad for was that Doc Fletcher’s replacement hadn’t arrived yet from Pennsylvania. Not that Wade hadn’t helped choose the vet’s replacement and not that he wasn’t satisfied with the new doc’s qualifications but, with the lives of his animals at stake, he wanted someone he knew, someone he trusted, tending what was his. Doc Fletcher would understand the importance of saving the cow and calf. But then, most everyone in Marietta would.
It was no secret the Triple P was neck deep in debt.
Wade made his way to the stall while James’s steps made squishing sounds behind him. Wade blew out a troubled breath. They needed to get that new barn finished. Adding the cost of the vet, he ran figures in his head, refused to be defeated by the staggering numbers that filled the debt column. He’d manage. By God, he’d manage. He wasn’t losing the ranch his pa had built.
Wade took a deep breath, braced his forearms on the top rail and prayed, not for the first time, that he wouldn’t lose two animals before the night was over. While he knew he’d find a way to survive should the worst happen, it sure would be a hell of a lot easier if the cow and calf survived.
The animal’s eyes were glazed with pain; her mooing was raspy where a few short hours ago it had been loud and strong. Though she struggled to get up, she wasn’t able to do more than lift her head. He cursed, feeling an iron band of tension wrap around his shoulders. He’d already sold off part of his herd but he couldn’t afford to sell it all. He needed enough heifers for breeding, enough to keep selling. And if nothing else happened, maybe, just maybe, he’d start thinking about starting that horse ranch.
“They’re here!” James yelled.
Relief poured through Wade. “Hang in there, girl. Help’s on the way.” Wade ran to the door.
“Well,” James said, pushing his hat further up his forehead. “This sure is an unexpected surprise.”
“What’s the problem?” Wade asked, stepping around James.
He stopped dead, felt his jaw slacken.
What greeted him in the yellow glow of the barn was not even remotely close to old Doc Fletcher, or the J. Matthews they’d hired to replace him. This wasn’t the short, plump vet Wade had expected. Neither was he the tall, strapping man Wade imagined would cross a country to replace Doc Fletcher. Instead there stood a woman barely tall enough to reach Wade’s shoulder.
She held her horse’s reins in one gloved hand and saddlebags in the other. Though she didn’t seem to notice, water streamed over the brim of her hat. Her eyes never left his and the directness of that gaze stopped him momentarily. Wade turned to Scott. Scott Taylor, the only ranch hand Wade could afford besides James, shrugged.
“She was at Doc’s place. Told me she could help.” He explained.
“Doc’s place?” Wade shook his head.
That made no sense. If Doc wasn’t at his place, then it should have been Dr. Matthews, as was the agreement made when they hired the new vet. He turned back to the woman.
Green eyes, a heart-shaped face. She was pretty, no question, but it wasn’t pretty he needed at the moment.
He glared at Scott, then James. “This isn’t time for one of your damned practical jokes.”
He stepped out into the rain. Surely Doc Fletcher was waiting around the corner with his bag in hand. Surely any moment now Scott and James would laugh and gloat as he’d fallen for their prank. But there was nothing outside but darkness and sheets of rain and his ranch hand and foreman remained unnaturally silent.
The woman’s voice cut through the silence like lightning. “Could you see that my horse is looked after?”
Wade spun round. She handed the reins to Scott then skirted past a wide-eyed James. She strode purposefully into the barn, saddlebags in hand.
“Wait just a minute!” Wade said as he loped behind her.
“What?” she asked, never once breaking stride.
“Where’s Doc Fletcher?”
“He left town.”
“Since when? He was still here last I heard.”
“Apparently he didn’t feel you needed to be apprised of his comings and goings,” she said, slipping into the stall.
She tossed her hat and dripping slicker onto the clean straw. A thick braid of auburn hair fell down her back. Stunned, Wade could only watch as she opened her bags, set a pristine white cloth onto a dry patch of straw, and began placing shiny medical tools onto it. None of what he was seeing made a lick of sense.
“What are you doing?”
Her hands stilled and her fiery green eyes snapped. “Exactly what you brought me here to do.” She took her stethoscope, placed one end of the wooden tube on the hide and her ear to the other.
His gaze snapped right back. “I sent for Doc Fletcher.”
“No, you sent for the veterinarian,” she said, shifting to her knees. “And that’s what you got.”
“But—”
Her hands skimmed over the distended belly of the animal as she continued to talk. “I’m trained as a vet, and I’ll explain afterward. But right now, this cow is my only concern.”
He couldn’t help it; his eyes roved over the woman. Her black belt cinched a tiny waist. Leaning over the way she was, it was only natural he noticed the way her skirt draped over her trim backside.
His mind told him she couldn’t be a doctor. Her shoulders didn’t look broad enough, nor did her hands appear strong enough to do what needed to be done. But, as she said, they didn’t have the luxury of arguing. Time wasn’t on their side. If Doc wasn’t coming, she was his only hope.
She placed the stethoscope to the cow’s brown hide. The barn was silent as she worked except for the constant patter of rain, both inside and outside.
“Is this her first time?” she asked when the cow tried once again to raise her head, then gave up with a low moan.
“It is.” Wade confirmed.
“Calf must be too big for her.” She fixed those green eyes on his again. “I’ll need clean towels, warm water and all of you to help hold her down while I do the surgery.”
Wade took a breath, nodded. Whether she knew what she was doing or not, she was here and she was all they had. He, James, and Scott had tried everything they could think of earlier. He’d just have to trust she could get his animal through this crisis alive.
“I figured you might,” he answered. He gestured to the corner of the stall. “We already got the rags and there’s hot water ready on the stove. I’ll be right back with it.” He turned to James, who’d joined him at the stall. “Stay here in case she needs anything else.”
Wade strode down the aisle, his pace increasing when the cow moaned again.
Scott, who was in the last stall tending the woman’s horse, looked up as Wade approached. “You need me?”
“We will, just as soon as I get back.”
“I’ll be ready,” Scott answered.
Wade ran for the house. His mother came running the moment he stepped inside.
Worry filled her eyes. “Did you lose them?”
“Not yet.” Though with this unexpected turn of events, the possibility seemed more likely than ever.
Eileen Parker’s shoulders fell. “Well, that’s a blessing I’ll take. You’re ready for the water now?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get it.”
She didn’t have far to go; the house wasn’t very big. Two bedrooms upstairs; one for him, the other his ma and his daughter, Annabelle, shared. Downstairs consisted of a kitchen to the left with a small enclosed porch jutting
off of it to wash up and a parlor to the right. Since Samuel and Eileen Parker only had one child, there hadn’t been a need to build a large house.
“Thanks, Ma,” he said, taking the buckets from her grasp.
“I’ll get some more going, in case you need it.”
She opened the door for him. “Don’t let Miles leave without coming in for a hot cup of coffee.”
Wade paused. “Miles Fletcher left town.”
Panic filled her eyes. “You don’t have help?”
“We do. I think. I hope.” He shook his head, thinking of the woman he was trusting with his animals. He hoped to hell she knew what she was doing. “I don’t have time to explain, I have to get back. But don’t worry; I plan on asking her a whole lot of questions once this is over.”
Lanterns hanging along the back and sides of the stall illuminated the little square. Other than the patter of rain on the roof and dripping into the puddles in the corner, Jillian worked in silence. She was relieved James didn’t seem bothered by her presence and wasn’t firing questions at her as fast as Mr. Parker had.
Did it matter where their precious Doc was or why she was there in his stead? Did Mr. Parker really think she’d follow a complete stranger in the middle of the night if she didn’t know what she was doing?
Granted, since women weren’t allowed in veterinary schools, she could understand his questions. She had, in fact, expected them. But she had the tools and she’d followed his ranch hand in the dead of night, surely that ought to prove something. But then, he wasn’t the first man to look at her and not see past the fact she was female.
She’d grown and learned despite the abundance of such attitude toward her, and Mr. Parker, no matter his prickly attitude, would not deter her from doing what she was trained for, what she loved to do.
The owner returned and his men followed him in, making the already small stall even smaller.
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