The Lady and the Lawman

by Jennifer Zane

  “Would you sit still?” he all but growled.

  He circled her with his arms once again around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. Barely able to move, there was nothing left for her to do but think. She was in the arms of a stranger, riding through the night to God knows where. Was she really safer with Sheriff Grant Masterson?

  Trust didn’t come easily to her, but did she have any alternative with him? He could have forced himself on her, but he hadn’t. He could have left her at Croft’s to fend for herself. Again, he hadn’t. He was a bit ornery, like a bear poked with a stick during hibernation, but had protected her when she'd needed it. Like he’d said, it was his job. That was at least something in the man’s favor. At this point, she couldn’t do much else but trust him.

  She felt safe. Lulled. No man had ever held her like this before, sheltered her. No matter her reservations regarding a man, a stranger, she had to admit that it felt good. Really, really good.

  “Um, where are we going?”

  “To my brother’s ranch.”

  The sheriff didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist, so she leaned back against him, feeling the hard muscles in his chest work with the motions of the horse, lulling her to sleep.

  The first rumblings of trouble galloped across the moonlit prairie, awakening her. He cursed.

  She looked to him, but his face was cast in shadow. He reined in the horse quickly, and kept her secure with an arm around her waist. The animal nickered, either disappointed in stopping or sensing the approaching danger.

  Pulling his gun from his holster, he turned the horse around to face the danger she could feel mounting by the tenseness of his muscles, in his harsh breathing.

  She grabbed him. Her fingers would have dug into his flesh, but the muscles in his forearms were hard like thick branches. Peering around his large frame, there was no visible sign of the approaching men in the darkness. She wanted to curse herself at the inconvenience of her hair, the long strands obstructing her view. But once she brushed it from her eyes, it still was too dark to see anything.

  He lifted his hand and she got a good look at his gun glinting in the moonlight. It was the second time in a few short hours she’d seen it up close. This time, gulping down her fear, she hoped it wouldn’t be put to use.

  It sounded as though the entire U.S. Cavalry approached, although she had no illusions they would be so lucky. Shapes of men and their horses were vaguely captured by the moonlight.

  “I can’t see who they are,” she said, worried.

  “Hell,” he answered, distracted. “I can barely see you.”

  Her pulse raced, awaiting the approaching danger, not in the least reassured by his words. She heard the unmistakable sound of him cocking the gun. So the weapon really was loaded. All thoughts of a peaceful resolution were forgotten at the clicking noise. Her heart galloped faster than the horses coming closer and closer. Her fear was so great she could taste it, the bile in her stomach making her nauseous.

  The first shot missed them both, but came close enough to make her scream, as well as startle the horses. They were quickly surrounded, with only the animals breathing hard and the sound of restless hooves breaking the silence. Was it five or six men silhouetted by the moonlight? The shadows were so deep, it was difficult to tell.

  “Sheriff, what are we going to do?” she whispered, hoping he had a plan of action.

  A shout came from the darkness before he could reply. “You have something that belongs to me, Masterson.”

  She heard the sheriff swear under his breath. If it were any other time and if she weren’t so scared, she might have taken offense at his inappropriate language. But this big, solid man was all the protection she had from the men that surrounded them.

  “Damn it, Dalton. Now what?” the sheriff shouted back.

  She sucked in her breath. Oh no! There was no way she was going with that...that evil man and his cronies.

  “You heard me.”

  “It’s the middle of the night. I’m tired. Come by my office in the morning and we’ll settle this then,” Grant replied, obviously trying to keep the peace, and hopefully her, right where she was.

  “I don’t think so, Masterson.”

  All hell broke loose. Dalton’s men drew in and formed a tight circle. She still couldn’t see much of the men’s faces even with the moonlight casting everything in a ghostly light. She deliberately pressed her back firmly into the sheriff for safety and felt the arm holding the reins squeeze into her side, a tacit reassurance. As if he could protect her from six armed men. He might be big, strong, and very brave, but six guns were more than any man could handle.

  One of the men boldly grabbed her arm, trying to unseat her. She screamed and struggled to pull free. Luckily, with him holding the reins, she had leverage to break the evil grip.

  Another shot rang out from the group of men, but this time he returned fire—until he made a strange noise, followed by short, panting breaths. The horse’s head lowered to the ground from the slack on the reins. Why wasn’t he controlling the horse? The question barely formed in her mind when she felt her right leg dampen, a warmness seeping down her dress.

  Blood. The sheriff had been shot! She wasn’t sure how the bullet had missed her, since she sat directly in front of him. She felt lucky to be in one piece. The thought prodded her into action. If the sheriff was injured, it was up to her to save them both. “Give me the reins, Sheriff,” she whispered so only he heard.

  “No, I’m fine,” he hissed, before firing off another round.

  She was deafened by the noise. “You are not fine,” she scolded. “With only one good leg, you can’t fire and control the horse without falling off.”

  “I want what is rightfully mine, Masterson. Give me my horse and the woman. Otherwise, we’ll finish this here and now.” Dalton, insistent as he was, clearly didn’t know the sheriff had been shot.

  She had to take action! Otherwise, they’d both be dead within a matter of minutes or even seconds. Without thinking, she slid out of his safe hold, off the horse and onto the ground.

  “Damn it, Maggie, what the hell are you doing?” the sheriff snapped, reaching for her in the dark.

  “What do you think?” You idiot, she wanted to add. “I’m trying to save us,” she said, her voice overly loud without any gunfire.

  “I see the woman is smarter than you are, Masterson.”

  Walking over to Dalton’s fancy horse, she quickly untied the lead, breaking the connection with the sheriff. She quickly swung up onto the mount’s back and grabbed hold of its soft mane for dear life before anyone could contradict her actions.

  “Maggie—”

  Kicking her heels into the stallion’s withers, she clucked her tongue to spur the animal into motion. Eager to oblige, he took off like a cannon through the throng of men. They were too startled by her unexpected escape to stop her, and she sprinted through the darkness before they could think to turn and follow her.

  With luck, enough distance could be gained between her and the dangerous men. She was the reason they were ambushed in the first place. If she could draw the men away from the sheriff, he’d be safe. Unless he was already dead from his wound.

  She didn’t want a dead man on her conscience, even if he was a complete stranger. Except he wasn’t exactly a stranger. He’d kissed her and touched her, not only physically, but in ways no other man had before. He’d rescued her from Croft’s, protected her from the other men in the saloon, and saved her from the life of a whore. Even while shot, he tried to keep her safe. She owed him at least a fighting chance to get away.

  Sporadic gunfire continued in the background as she dug her heels into the horse’s flank again, pushing him harder. Wind made tears come to her eyes and slide down her cheeks. It was difficult to hear if someone followed, her horse’s hooves charging over the flat terrain blocked out everything around her. She looked over her shoulder as hair whipped into her eyes, and saw no pursuers in the
darkness.

  Slowing after a few minutes, listening to the night, she allowed time for the animal to rest. All was quiet except for the rustling of the grass against the wind and the howl of a wild animal she guessed to be a coyote on the prowl. She patted the horse’s sweaty flank in gratitude at their narrow escape. It was obvious why Dalton hadn’t wanted to part with this animal. He was a true thoroughbred.

  She debated what to do. Should she go back to see if Grant had escaped Dalton and his men? Maybe she should head back to town and find help. Surely, this lawlessness should be punished.

  Don’t be a dolt, Margaret! You weren’t followed. You’ve got the opportunity to leave this place behind, continue on with your plan. Get to California and answer the ad as intended.

  Today's calamities had sidetracked her from her original destination, answering an advertisement for a mail-order bride to escape a forced marriage. She was at a crossroad. One path led to California, to the mail-order husband who awaited her arrival. She could leave this whole day, this whole mess she’d tumbled into, behind her. But could she leave the sheriff behind, not knowing if he lived through his wound, let alone the gun battle that followed?

  Then there was the other path. The one that led back to Sheriff Grant Masterson. She turned the horse around to search for the man she'd abandoned, as if she could see him through the darkness, slumped over his saddle, or even worse, bleeding into the grass as he died alone on the ground. The stage driver, his dead body bent in the grass, came to mind. Only yesterday, his blood had seeped into the hard, sunburned prairie and his blank eyes had been staring toward the heavens.

  The sheriff, from the little bit she knew of him, appeared to be an honorable man. Yes, he’d plied her with kisses and his hands did things she’d never imagined possible, but when she’d shared the truth of her predicament, he’d been a true gentleman. William didn’t have an honorable bone in his body, which she'd learned the hard way. Never would, either. The man was like a leech she’d found on her leg from the pond behind her summer home. Once married, he’d suck the life blood from she until she was nothing left but an empty shell of a woman. Her money, too. And that was quite an undertaking, since she was one of the richest women in America. He'd taken her virginity. She swore he'd take nothing else.

  The sheriff also listened to her—actually listened, something else William never did. When things were at their worst, Grant had saved her.

  With a click of her tongue, she spurred the horse and herself into action. He'd saved her from the life of a...well, a horrible life. Whatever the consequences, she needed to help Grant Masterson.

  The faint staccato of distant gunfire came from the direction of town. Who were they shooting at? They couldn’t be firing at Grant. She’d ridden quite a distance, hadn’t she? Maybe she was turned around. Dear Lord, what would she do if she couldn’t find the sheriff again in this inky blackness? Her heart twisted a little at the thought of him all alone defending himself, injured as he was, from those awful men. But they had followed her, so there was hope.

  The shots stopped almost as quickly as they’d started, with retreating hooves becoming quieter as riders rode off into the blackness. It was the lull she’d been waiting for. Hoping she still headed in the right direction to reach Grant, she pushed her horse on once again, this time at a slower pace so she wouldn’t miss him.

  After what seemed like hours, she heard a horse snickering to her left, and angled toward the sound. There she found him, off his horse but standing. He was trying to tie a bandanna around his leg, without much luck.

  Swinging down off of her horse, her dress swirling about her legs, she rushed to his side. The air was warm around them. “Here Sheriff, let me do that.” Not allowing him time to argue, she took the cloth, wrapped and then knotted it tightly around his thigh.

  His breath hissed sharply through his clenched teeth. “Thank you,” he replied.

  “Is the bullet still in your leg?” she asked, her voice suddenly shaky.

  “I’m not sure, but at least the bone isn’t broken.”

  Pain etched his face with deep creases, his jaw tense, evident even in the darkness. His gaze burned into her eyes, making her forget everything that had just happened to them. She thought of his touch, his mouth on hers. Wanting him to kiss her again, she needed to feel the closeness only he could offer her. She wanted his comfort...to comfort him in return.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he snarled.

  Wide-eyed, she stared at him for a moment until his words sank in. “I was saving you.” The wind kicked up and she brushed her hair away from her face and over her shoulder to have it hang loose down her back. “You’re welcome, by the way.” She wasn’t pleased with his lack of consideration.

  “Saving me? You could have gotten us both killed!”

  The man was furious with her for saving his life. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He should be thanking her, the lout! How dare he be angry!

  “You were shot, God knows where. You couldn’t even control your horse,” she pointed out, standing her ground.

  “I was fine,” he growled.

  “Fine? Fine? You can barely stand.” She poked her finger against his hard chest. “If I hadn’t led those men away from you, who knows what would have happened to you?”

  “I had everything under control when you decided to take things into your own hands!”

  They were both shouting, even though they stood mere inches apart. Margaret could feel his breath on her face.

  “You’re just angry because you were wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?”

  “That I could ride the horse on my own.”

  “Oh, we’re not back to that again, are we?” He yanked his hat off and ran his hand through his unruly hair.

  “Yes, we are. And I think you owe me an apology.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the star pinned there. Her ripped dress had completely slipped her mind.

  “Apology?”

  She could hear the aggravation in his voice.

  “I think you should—” He didn’t finish his tirade, for they both heard more horses approaching.

  Now what? Dear lord, would this horrid day never ever end?

  He pulled her into his side, all but shoving her behind him, his gun raised, cocked. Ready. The pain in his leg must have been severe because he leaned heavily on her. “Let me take care of this. Don’t do anything but breathe, understand?”

  Before she could respond, a whistle overlapped the hoofbeats and the sheriff lowered his gun.

  She remained where she was, behind the protection his body offered. She gripped the back of his shirt. Moments later, several men on horseback rode up and stopped in front of them.

  “What the hell happened here?” one of them asked, gun still in hand, however it rested on his thigh instead of poised and primed. The moon had risen enough for her to see him quickly look her over before tipping his hat. She pulled the ends of her ripped dress closer together, embarrassed at his scrutiny.

  “Tom, mighty glad to see you,” the sheriff replied, smiling tightly at the stranger. “Seems we’ve had a run-in with Dalton.”

  “Glad we got here when we did. Some of the men saw what happened at the tables earlier and knew there might be trouble when Dalton left town. They sent the new kid, Barnes, out to the ranch to get the rest of the men. Reinforcements. Turns out we were needed after all. We headed them off and they’re probably on their way back to his ranch by now. Looks like that leg needs some tending to, though.” The man swung down from his saddle and approached to get a better look.

  The sheriff shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

  Nothing, indeed. She was thankful to these men who’d driven off Dalton and his brood of men.

  The other man nodded, stopping in front of them. Obviously he thought the injury was nothing, as well. “If it’s fine, then the blood loss has drained out your manners.”

  The sheriff must have f
orgotten she was there. He pulled her out from behind him as he chuckled. “Tom, this is Maggie. Maggie, my brother, Tom.”

  Tom smiled at her and relief finally washed over her. The sheriff's brother. They weren’t being attacked by evil men on horseback. Not that she would’ve been surprised if that was their intention. It would have only been the third time today it had happened to her. It must be some kind of record even the sheriff couldn’t best.

  “Hello,” she whispered, suddenly unable to find her voice. It was all over. They weren’t going to be shot. She might see the next sunrise after all! She began to shake like a leaf, the enormity of what happened finally sinking in.

  The sheriff must have felt it, for he pulled her in close, one arm snug around her hip, holding her up. The feel of his body pressed against hers, his warmth seeping into her, was comfort indeed.

  “I think we’ve had enough fun for one night,” he murmured to Tom. “Let’s get the hell out of here before Dalton has time to whip up his fury again. We’re headed to your place, so I hope that’s still all right.”

  “See you there.” Tom mounted his horse as the sheriff led her back to his.

  He carefully, yet a little clumsily, swung up into the saddle and offered his hand to her. She shook her head.

  “I’m not riding with you, Sheriff, until you admit you needed my help,” she said, vehemently. Her anger at his stubbornness was not to be appeased.

  He remained silent, leaned down and pulled her up into his arms, placing her carefully onto his lap as if she were a petulant, naughty child who’d questioned her betters. She looked around to see if the other men were watching, but they’d already ridden off, blending into the darkness.

  “The man is supposed to protect the woman, not the other way around,” he said quietly, so only she could hear. “Especially the sheriff. But thanks for helping.”

  In terms of apologies, she’d take what she could get. Satisfied, she leaned back into his chest.

  After a few quiet minutes, he murmured into her ear, “Why’d you come back?”

  She knew what he meant, but didn’t want to let on she’d contemplated leaving him alone, defenseless. “I don’t know what you mean.”