by Debra Cowan
Bowie had thought surveilling her was a good idea. Until now.
He felt like he was tied to a tree with a stampede charging him and all he could do was wait to be trampled.
The next day, Merritt was restless and on edge. She blamed Bowie. She had been fine last night until he had come over and touched her. The warmth of his hand on hers, the stroke of his finger against her temple, had sent a current of sensation running beneath her skin from head to toe. It rankled.
It had stirred her up. She wanted him and just hadn’t been able to sit there any longer letting him touch her. She had needed some air, someone to talk to, so she had gone to Livvy’s.
She had already presumed her relationship with Bowie was something other than what it was, had mistakenly believed they had made an emotional connection when they hadn’t. At least, Bowie hadn’t.
Now, Merritt thought she’d finally gotten things straight between them in her mind. They were friendly acquaintances. She had helped him a small bit with his investigation and he had used that information to try to get more.
He was a lawman. He had never claimed to be anything else. He had never said he wouldn’t contact her foster brother, hadn’t agreed to wait for her to speak to Saul again. She needed to remember that man, not the softhearted one she had glimpsed when he had talked about his sister.
She needed to treat him like a boarder, not someone she fancied.
If Bowie affected her too much one way, then Hobbs affected her too much the other.
She groaned. When she had encountered the former marshal last night, he had invited her to the town’s Fourth of July celebration. She hadn’t outright refused, although she had thought her obvious reluctance even to talk to him would’ve discouraged the man. It hadn’t.
When he had kissed her hand, she had barely kept from recoiling.
She didn’t want to go anywhere with him and had wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but she hadn’t. And why?
Because Bowie had asked her to try and put up with the low-down snake. She resented doing it, but if it helped get justice for Earl and Ruby, Merritt would do what she could.
Still, there was only so much she could stomach and spending hours with the ex-marshal was not on the list. He had urged her to consider it and she had. Maybe if she gentled her refusal, it wouldn’t alienate him. That should please Bowie.
Though she had been afraid Hobbs might come by the boardinghouse today to ask for her answer, he hadn’t. That was cause enough for celebration, but she had also spent each meal with Bowie and sat with him in the parlor after supper without experiencing any more of that silly physical frustration. Thank goodness he hadn’t touched her again.
Still, she was glad to escape to her bedroom when he and Mr. Wilson had said good-night and gone upstairs. A few minutes later, she closed the door to her bedroom. She peeled off her gray skirt and white bodice, unhooked her corset and sighed in pleasure as her chemise billowed away from her body.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she unlaced her everyday boots, took them off, then her stockings. She leaned back on her elbows and wiggled her toes, glad to be rid of her shoes.
After undoing her braid, she threaded her fingers through the strands until the heavy mass fell around her shoulders. The tension of the day seeped away as she brushed out her hair. Once finished, she gathered it to the side in a loose ponytail, then pulled down her lone sheet. The air coming through the half-open window wasn’t cool, but it wasn’t daytime-hot, either. She would be comfortable as long as she didn’t move around too much.
Just as she bent to turn out the lamp at the head of her bed, a tap sounded on the glass.
“Merritt?” a masculine voice whispered.
Saul! She padded over to the window and pushed aside the chambray curtains. In the glow of the lamp, his hawklike features were reflected from the other side of the glass.
She raised the window all the way. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I told you I’d contact you, so here I am.”
“Good. Are you hungry?”
He nodded.
“Go up to the front corner of the house. I’ll let you through the side door into the kitchen.”
With a quick nod, he disappeared. After tugging on her boots, she grabbed her light cotton wrapper from the back of the nearby chair and pulled it on, then picked up the burning lamp and quietly made her way across the dark dining room to the kitchen.
She let him in, keeping the door propped open. A few minutes later, he stood over the long work counter wolfing down the leftovers from supper.
She took a half loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese and three pieces of fried chicken out of the larder and placed them on the counter with two cans of beans, two cans of peaches and the four apples she had left.
When he finished, he whispered his thanks, then turned to gather the food. He knocked a can of beans to the floor. Merritt froze at the loud thud while Saul managed to stop the other cans from falling. She held her breath as she waited to see if anyone upstairs might have heard.
After a few moments of total silence, she nodded. He scooped up the can on the floor and helped her carefully pack everything into the saddlebags he’d left outside by the door.
“Where have you been?” she whispered.
“Here and there.”
She hadn’t really thought he would tell her. Looking around to make sure they were still alone, she followed him outside. “Did you think about what I said?”
“About talking to that lawman?”
She nodded.
“I just don’t know, Merritt.”
“You know Hobbs could be looking for you,” she pointed out, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “He probably is.”
“Maybe so, but he hasn’t found me yet.”
“If you would talk to Bowie, he could protect you. You’d be safer with him than on your own.”
He looked around nervously. “I came from the direction of the jail and saw the marshal’s name on the door. It’s Cahill. Is he related to the Cahills who were murdered?”
She didn’t want to answer. It would only give him another reason to say no to her.
“Merritt?” he asked sharply.
“Yes, but—”
“He’d likely shoot me on sight.”
“No, he wouldn’t. Not if you turn yourself in.”
He shook his head, swinging up into his saddle. His bay gelding stepped forward, the light revealing her missing left ear. “I’m going to leave here, ride west.”
“You promised you wouldn’t do that.”
“Would you rather see me get killed?”
She put a hand on his leg. “If you would just help Bowie, he would help you.”
He looked down at her with a sad smile, his sharp features blunted in the shadows. “I wish I were as good as you think I am.”
“Saul, don’t go. Just talk to him once.”
He tensed and stared into the kitchen behind her.
She turned. “What is it?”
“Thought I heard something. How many people you got living here?”
“Three, including me. I have a spare room. You can use it.”
“If I stay and Hobbs is after me, that will put you in danger. I’m not going to do that,” he said in a low voice.
“Promise me you won’t leave the area, at least not without telling me.”
His horse backed up, shifting restlessly.
“Saul, promise.”
His gaze shot to something behind her and his eyes widened. “I love you.”
With that, he wheeled his mount and disappeared into the dark.
“Saul!” she whispered.
His horse thundered down the side of the house heading south toward the river.
She followed for a few feet, but she couldn’t see anything past the moonlit corner of her house. The trees obscured any further view as did the hillside. The sound of pounding hooves grew more distant.
Why had he done that? She d
idn’t know when she would see him again.
Frustrated and worried, she turned and walked back toward the kitchen door. A shadow fell across the soft golden light coming from the kitchen. She drew in a sharp breath when she saw Bowie standing in the doorway.
Had he seen Saul? No, if he had, he would’ve tried to arrest him.
“Who was that?” he demanded.
“You scared me!”
“Who? It was Saul, wasn’t it?”
Nerves raw, she pushed past him, walking into the kitchen.
He followed. “I know someone was here, Merritt.”
“Yes. Someone who needed food.”
He grabbed her arm, turned her toward him. “It was Saul Bream. Why was he here?”
Her head jerked up. “How did you find out his last name?”
“Your parents told me.”
“My parents.” Dumbfounded, she just stared at him for a moment.
“I wired them, told them I was looking for him and why. That was all the information they could provide.”
Of course he had contacted her parents. Merritt shouldn’t be surprised. He had already shown himself to be doggedly persistent at following up on any clue, no matter how small.
He gave her a little shake. “He could be dangerous.”
“Not to me.”
His hands ran down her arms to bracket her waist.
Pulse hitching, her gaze flew to his.
“What if he hurts you? Or tries to use you as a bargaining tool?”
“He won’t.” The deep male scent of him, the heat of his body, was distracting.
“He’s a wanted man, Merritt. They do desperate things.”
She knew that was right, but…she didn’t think Saul would hurt her. You also never imagined he would be involved in a murder, she thought ruefully.
“I don’t want you in danger,” Bowie said softly.
“You’re probably more worried that I won’t tell you when he contacts me again.”
His eyes narrowed; a muscle spasmed in his jaw. “Would you have told me about this meeting?”
“If I’d known about it, but I didn’t. Last time, he sent me a note. I had no way of knowing he was going to show up tonight.”
“You could’ve come and gotten me.”
She leveled a look at him. “If I had asked him to wait a minute, then come searching for you, do you think he would’ve been here when I returned?”
He didn’t answer, just dragged a hand down his haggard whisker-stubbled face.
“I know you think it’s your job to protect me, protect everyone, but if something happens, I won’t hold you responsible.”
“That isn’t why I care, dammit.” His gaze slid hotly down her body, making her very aware that she wore only a chemise and a light wrapper.
She ignored the sudden weakness in her knees. “Then why?” she challenged. “Are you afraid it will look as though you aren’t doing your job?”
“No,” he gritted out.
“Well, then?”
“This is why,” he muttered before his mouth came down on hers.
She stilled for a second, then parted her lips to let him in.
Dimly, she was aware that she made a sound. He curled her tight into him and kissed her harder, demanding more.
She could feel every hard inch of him through her clothes. Both of her hands crept up his chest and slid around his neck, holding on tight. A delicious warmth spread through her like honey. Her fingers delved into his thick hair and she arched against him. His chest was solid muscle against her breasts, his body tight and hot.
She couldn’t get close enough and he seemed to feel the same. He curved his palm under her hair, then cradled her skull, burying his hand in the silky mass as his mouth moved over hers.
Heat flushed her body as she felt the solid ridge of his erection. He pulled away, breathing hard, his eyes black with want in the dim amber light. “We need to stop.”
Dazed, she lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. Seth had never kissed her like that.
“Merritt.” Bowie’s husky voice had her toes curling. He straightened, his big hand sliding from her hair.
“You’re sorry,” she guessed hoarsely, her heart sinking.
“No. I stopped as much for me as I did for you.”
“What do you mean?”
Arousal streaked his cheekbones. “I’m not going to change who I am. What I do.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” She stiffened, drawing away from him.
He closed his eyes briefly. “I’m not saying this right.”
She stared up at him, her heart hammering against her chest as she tried to pull herself together.
“You’ve told me why you don’t want to be involved with a lawman.”
Frowning, she nodded.
“That’s all I want to be.”
“So you pulled away for me?” she asked, confused. Incredulous.
“For me, too.”
She didn’t understand, but she wanted to.
“I told you my engagement didn’t work out.”
She nodded.
“Clea didn’t want me to be a lawman. She wanted me to take my place in the family cattle business, follow in my father’s and brother’s footsteps. Their well-established, very wealthy footsteps. When I said no, she broke our engagement. I didn’t know she felt that way before we got involved, but—”
“You do know that about me,” Merritt said softly as understanding dawned.
“Yes.” His eyes were stormy. He looked as if this bothered him as much as it bothered her. “The hell of it is, I understand why you feel that way and I wouldn’t ask you to change that, either. We can’t get involved.”
She knew he was right. She’d told herself the same thing. She believed it. So, why did it hurt?
She bit her lip to stop it from quivering. With more composure than she felt, she said, “So, we should be only friends.”
“Friends,” he repeated in an even voice.
She could read nothing in his voice, good or bad. “Unless you don’t want that?”
“I do.” His jaw clenched as he stared down at her. “I just don’t know if I can do it.”
Merritt didn’t know if she could, either.
Chapter Nine
Bowie was everything Merritt didn’t want and he wasn’t going to change. Not for her or anyone.
He repeated this to himself every day in the week that followed their kiss in the kitchen.
There were no more kisses, no more meetings between just the two of them. This was what they had agreed on. It was sure as hell the smart thing.
The problem was, smart didn’t seem to matter when she made sure he had hot shaving water every morning or kept supper warm for him on late nights or looked so beautiful.
Getting involved with Merritt would be like following a cold trail—going nowhere for both of them. It didn’t matter. He still wanted her and it only grew more intense with time.
She wanted him, too. Which only made it more difficult to do the right thing. He tried to keep a distance because the farther he was from her physically, the more he was able to control his frustration.
Watching her was another matter. He was still surveilling her. Between that and being marshal, he wasn’t getting a lot of sleep. That was the only reason he had heard that noise the night he had come downstairs to find her outside with Saul Bream.
Bowie hadn’t had any luck tracking down the man or his one-eared bay. Even a trip to Wolf Grove to ask around about Bream and his horse had yielded nothing. It sure as hell would have been easier on Bowie if he had learned something. He might have been able to stay away from Merritt, but he couldn’t afford to miss a chance at Bream if he contacted Merritt again.
Day after day, night after night, of watching her, remembering that damn kiss, sawed at Bowie’s resolve to remain only friends. He didn’t know how long he could hold out.
Especially when the day of the Fourth of July festivities arrived.
> The flag, always raised at the town hall, fluttered in the hot breeze. The entire town had been decorated with red, white and blue ribbons. Swags in the same colors hung across the streets and marked off the planked floor that had been erected for today’s speeches and tonight’s dancing.
He kept an eye on her throughout the reading of the Declaration of Independence and Bowie’s reading of the town charter that told the story of how Cahill Crossing had been established and named for his family.
He wasn’t able to tear his gaze from her, appreciating the way the bodice of her red-and-white-striped dress gloved her full breasts and tapered into the star-studded blue sash at her small waist. He watched her through the picnic she shared with Ace, Livvy and Mr. Wilson under the arbor built for the celebration and covered with large tree branches for shade.
The worst moment for Bowie was when night fell and the temporary plank board platform became a dance floor. When she danced with Hobbs, Bowie just barely managed to keep from cutting in. He couldn’t stand the thought of the other man touching her when his burning-hot dreams of making love with her just grew more intense. More difficult to ignore.
Once it was fully dark, Arthur Slocum and Ben Verden began shooting off the town fireworks.
The loud shrieking noises were followed by brilliant bursts of light against the dark blue sky. Golden light streaked up high, then burst into myriad red, gold and blue showers.
Everyone’s attention was trained on the stunning display. If Bowie hadn’t been watching Merritt, he would’ve been too amazed by the exploding lights to notice her leaving. He lost her for a moment in the crowd, then spied a flash of a red-and-white-striped dress disappear behind the Porter Hotel and Café.
Was she returning to the Morning Glory? Was she meeting someone? Maybe Bream?
Amid the crackle and pop of the fireworks, Bowie eased through the throngs of people, then strode down the street. When he passed Porter’s and stepped into the street that fronted the boardinghouse, he saw her.
She hurried toward the houses on the same side of the street as her house. Why? The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Hobbs lived down that way. Was she going to the ex-marshal’s place?
