by Howe, Cheryl
“I never use a bedroll. Too hot.” He walked over to the table. “Got everything you need?”
And then some. She looked up at him and found the courage to study his eyes for the first time. The darkness she’d first noted hid shards of green.
“Why all this? I can’t possibly pay you back.”
He held her gaze but said nothing. His stare smoldered with a hunger that made her want to blush, especially since she felt the same heat flare in her stomach. Then it occurred to her—maybe he had no intention of helping Corey, and this was his way of easing his conscience while he carted her brother off to jail.
“I can’t accept any of this,” she decided.
“You’re too smart of a woman to starve over principle.”
She met his direct gaze, daring him not to be honest with her. “Do you still plan on helping Corey?”
He didn’t blink. “I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Then I guess I’m in your debt. I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem enough.”
He crammed his hat on his head. “Just stay out of trouble and let me handle your brother.”
And without even a nod of good-bye, he strode out the door.
Lorelei followed, lured by the strange pull he had on her. She paused on the porch and watched him mount his horse, afraid he would ride away without another word. “Next time I see you, I’ll make you a nice dinner. I’m a pretty good cook.”
He gathered up his horse’s reins. “Sweetheart, next time we meet, I’m going to be looking for a lot more than a meal.” He shifted his weight, his horse bolted, and they disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER THREE
Lorelei stood in her sleeveless chemise while the deputy marshal tore apart what she had spent most of the night putting back together. No longer was she relieved it had been the law that burst past her door and startled her from a heavy sleep. The faceless outlaws that Braddock had warned her about couldn’t be any more threatening than the man who now pawed through her meager possessions.
“Can I get dressed?” she asked his hunched back, his head stuck in a trunk she had brought from Kentucky.
He glanced at her over his shoulder but quickly looked away. “Don’t move. I won’t shoot you if I don’t have to. But you should know Mulcahy’s gang’s wanted dead or alive. So don’t get any funny ideas.”
“I’m not wanted for anything.” She put her hands on her hips, despite the fact that the blush around his ears assured her that her chemise had grown transparent in the harsh morning light.
“You’ll be singing a different tune when I find the gold.” He dumped the contents of the trunk on the floor, then started beating its sides as if looking for a secret compartment.
“I don’t have any gold. Please, those things are old and delicate.” Among the embroidered tablecloth and napkins tossed in the dirt sprawled her mother’s wedding dress. The antique gown of gold silk and cream lace had always been treated with the utmost care. Lorelei clearly recalled the last time her mother had sewn fresh lavender and rose petals in the hem. She had so wanted Lorelei to wear the gown someday, and now the marshal’s boot stood within inches of desecrating both the garment and her memory. Lorelei reached for the dress.
Before she could wrap her fingers around the delicate silk, the marshal swiveled in her direction, his gun drawn. “Get back.”
She froze in mid-crouch, then slowly straightened. “That belonged to my mother.”
He leaned over and snatched up the dress. With the gun still pointed at her, he worked the material through his other hand. When his fist wrapped around the sachet lovingly placed in the bottom, he smiled.
“What’s this, missy?”
“It’s a sachet to keep it fresh.”
The marshal draped the gown carefully over a chair back. Lorelei began to relax until he pulled handcuffs from his pocket.
He stepped toward her, his weapon trained on the center of her chest. “Don’t like to get rough with a woman, but this is serious business.” The blush that had stained his ears spread to his cheeks with renewed force. He dropped his gaze to her feet. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Lorelei did as he ordered. Blush or not, he still held a gun. Touching her as little as possible, he clamped the handcuffs on her wrists.
When Lorelei turned to face him again, the marshal had reholstered his gun. Unfortunately he used his free hand to wad her mother’s gown. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from screaming, or worse, crying. Her mother had worn gloves whenever she handled the delicate garment, not wanting to stain the silk with oil from her skin. This oaf had probably snagged the fabric with his callused paws.
He glanced at her triumphantly as he fingered the gown’s hem. “Feels like a bunch of bank notes to me.” He pulled a knife from a holster hooked to his belt. “Reckon we better find out.”
Lorelei tugged against the metal cuffs until they bit into her skin. “It’s a sachet, like I told you. I’ll show you if you let me out of these.”
“Heard that one before.” He inserted the tip of the knife into the seam. He might as well have inserted it between her ribs.
“No! Please stop.”
Before she could think what more she could do, Braddock stormed into the adobe, pistols clutched in both fists. The marshal dropped the dress and knife, then put his hands over his head. Braddock’s hard gaze slid to Lorelei. His eyes widened and, for the first time in their brief acquaintance, he appeared surprised, even scandalized, if he could feel such a thing. His gaze sliced back to the marshal.
“What the hell are you doing with her?”
“She’s my prisoner, Braddock. And just so you know, I’ve been made a deputy U.S. marshal. That means you answer to me.”
“The hell it does.” Braddock stomped over to Lorelei. He scowled at the handcuffs. “Someone must have been pretty damned desperate to make you a deputy marshal. Where’s the key for these?”
“Braddock,” Lorelei sputtered when the marshal eased his hand toward his gun.
Braddock didn’t flinch. "I’ll shoot you dead, Langston. You know that.”
Langston jerked his hands away from his pistols. “You’ve finally stepped over the line, Captain.” The way he sneered the title let Lorelei know it was an insult rather than a show of respect. “The law wants Mulcahy. The U.S. marshal deputized a posse of good and honest men. We don’t need the help of a bounty hunter.”
“The law doesn’t want her.”
Langston nodded to the gown lying crumpled on the floor. “Just rip open that seam and I guarantee you’ll find a wad of bank notes.”
Braddock reholstered one of his pistols so he could scoop up the gown. He adjusted the dress to the crook of his arm, then picked up the knife. His scowl deepened as he examined the long, sharp blade.
Lorelei’s gaze darted from the dress to Braddock. She said, “It’s only a wedding gown. Those are sachets sewn in the bottom, not banknotes.”
He tossed the knife on the table with a clank, then brought the fabric to his nose and sniffed. “Don’t know of any banknotes that smell like flowers. Do you, Langston?” Braddock held the hem of the gown to Langston’s face.
The man turned his head away. “We all can’t be as smart as you, Captain. If you ask me, she seems awful attached to that dress.”
Braddock laid the dress over his shoulder and reholstered his other pistol. “I’m not asking you, Corporal.” Braddock removed Langston’s guns and tucked them in his belt. He held out his hand. “The key.”
Langston reached in his shirtfront pocket and dropped the small brass object into Braddock’s palm.
“Knew it’d be only a matter of time before you went from straddling the line to full fledged outlaw. What would your high and mighty papa think of you aiding and abetting thieves and murderers?”
Braddock stomped to Lorelei and unlocked her handcuffs. He cradled her wrists in his hands and rubbed his thumbs over the red splotches she had create
d by tugging against the metal. His brief glance told her he wanted to do more. Instead he carefully handed her back the dress and turned to Langston.
“I’m giving a lady back her wedding gown. I know you don’t know much about women, but they tend to get upset when you take a knife to their pretty clothes.”
“Especially if her husband is an outlaw and she’s hiding his loot.”
Braddock stepped toward Langston with his fists clenched. “Her husband’s not an outlaw,” he snapped.
Lorelei clutched her gown to her chest and willed Braddock not to say anything about Corey.
“I know you’re looking for the kid that helped Mulcahy with the robbery. You’re not half as smart as you think you are, Braddock. Look at her holding that dress. She’s married to somebody. And don’t tell me it’s you.”
“You think that’s funny, Langston?”
Langston took a step back and banged into the open door of the wardrobe. “You’re not married.”
“You keeping tabs on me, Langston? I don’t like that either.” Braddock pulled the man’s pistols from his belt. “Lorelei, come hold these guns. Langston and I are going outside.”
The perpetual blush that colored Langston’s cheeks drained. Even the tufts of dark red hair sticking from beneath his hat seemed to pale. “I don’t want to fight you, Braddock.”
“Then you shouldn’t have bothered Lorelei.”
Lorelei juggled the pistols while Braddock unhooked his gun belt. He draped the thick leather over her shoulder. His gaze dropped to her thin chemise. His eyes flared slightly, but his voice remained controlled. “Get dressed, sweetheart.”
She backed away, afraid that the moment she turned, Braddock would lunge for Langston. She wanted the deputy marshal out of her house, not beaten to a pulp. She didn’t need any more trouble with the law.
“Honey,” she said tentatively, “he didn’t hurt me.”
Langston’s gaze landed on her, half disbelieving, half pleading. “She can’t be your wife. She’s too…small.”
Braddock grabbed Langston by his brown vest and jerked him hard, sending his cream-colored hat tumbling to the floor. “Don’t look at her. Don’t even think about her.”
Lorelei took an instinctive step in their direction, then hung back. Getting between them would be a mistake. They both towered over her, but Braddock handled the other man like a rag doll. He dragged him to the door and tossed him outside.
Lorelei laid the guns gently on the bed, picked up Langston’s hat, and followed them out the door.
Braddock stood splay legged on the porch while Langston sat in the dirt where he had landed.
“You’d better forget you ever saw her. And if you tell anyone anything to put her in danger, I’ll hunt you down and make you one very sorry deputy marshal.”
Langston stood and brushed off the red dirt that coated his clothes. “I’m not one for hurting women, but she’s broken the law.”
“Have you heard anything I’ve said?” Braddock took a menacing step off the porch.
“It’s a little hard to believe, don’t you think, Braddock.” Langston backed up abruptly, tripped, then fell in the dirt again. “You? Married?”
“You can believe it and ride out of here in one piece, or I can beat you until you do.”
Langston inched to his horse, then cautiously got to his feet. “Can I at least have my guns back?”
“Sweetheart, get his guns.”
Lorelei scrambled into the house to retrieve Langston’s weapons and hat before Braddock changed his mind and there was bloodshed. She hurried back, intending to hand Langston his pistols, not trusting the two men to be in swinging range. She had seen her brothers come to blows often enough to know one wrong move and Langston and Braddock would be rolling around in the dirt. Braddock’s outstretched arm stopped her before she stepped off the porch.
He took the guns from her. Using his whole body, he reared his arm back and propelled one pistol then the other out into the barren landscape. Each landed with a fountain of dust, then disappeared.
Langston followed the metallic arcs before he turned back to Braddock. “How the hell am I supposed to find them?”
“You can use those keen lawman skills you’ve been bragging about.” Braddock took the hat from Lorelei and sailed it at Langston, who fumbled to catch it as it hit him squarely in the chest. “You want your knife back, too?”
Langston settled his hat on his head, then turned his back on them. He mounted his horse and galloped away without another word. Just within shouting range, he abruptly circled.
“You won’t get away with this. You interfered with the investigation of a deputy marshal. That’s against the law. Even your buddies back in Washington can’t change that.”
“Let them know all about it,” Braddock called. “Don’t think harassing an innocent woman is going to get you a permanent position.”
“Your family doesn’t have any influence out here. If you’re hiding something, I’m going to be the first to find out.” Langston redirected his horse and trotted to where his guns had landed. Together, Lorelei and Braddock watched him scour the brush for his weapons. He either found them or gave up, because eventually he spurred his horse off into the haze of heat rising in the distance.
Lorelei released a sigh of relief as she watched him ride away. Up until then, Braddock and she had both kept their gazes trained on Langston. Now she glanced at Braddock’s hard profile. He stared at the place Langston had been as if even the dust from the man’s horse posed a threat.
Though she had been glad to see Braddock, even grateful for his intervention with the deputy marshal, her relief evaporated. Now that the other threat had disappeared, she wondered what this one had in store for her. Heat flushed her cheeks and belly as she remembered his departing words at their last meeting. What he might demand besides a meal filled her with more anticipation than dread.
“Do you think he believed you?” she asked when he continued to stare at the horizon.
“No.”
Lorelei gripped one of the porch’s rough posts for support. Not only did she have to worry about Corey hanging, she was in trouble with the law herself. Her only ally was this man—a stranger, a bounty hunter, who stirred unwanted longings without so much as a glance in her direction. Still, she had no one else to trust.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. She openly studied him. His long legs boasted heavily muscled thighs that tested the seams of his wool trousers. A black cotton shirt stretched across broad shoulders that made his hips look lean in comparison.
He turned abruptly and looked at her, forcing a quick prayer from Lorelei that he hadn’t caught her inspecting that particular part of his anatomy. The way his gaze started at her bare feet and moved up her body gave her the distinct impression that he’d felt more than seen her ogling him, and his reason for returning to the ranch had nothing to do with Corey.
He stepped onto the porch. She resisted the urge to back away, telling herself she had nothing to fear except her sudden desire to be near him. When he rested his hands on her bare shoulders, her breath hitched at the skin to skin contact.
“We’re going to play house to fool Langston. How real you want it to look depends on how fast you can get dressed.”
Lorelei rushed for the shelter of the adobe. With the door secured behind her, she picked through the mess on the floor, trying to find a petticoat. She tugged on the first garments she found, a gray bodice and a brown calico skirt, not caring that they didn’t match. Her immediate need to be dressed had as much to do with her rush of unladylike lust at his words as with his words themselves.
Despite her best efforts, he pushed open the door before she could finish buttoning her bodice. He didn’t falter at her shocked expression but strode toward the bed and picked up his gun belt. He buckled the tooled leather around his hips and swaggered back out the door. Lorelei followed him as she pushed the last cloth-covered button through its hole.
&nbs
p; Braddock had already unsaddled his horse.
“What are you doing?”
He turned briefly. “Can you make me something to eat?”
She tucked her hands under her folded arms, hugging herself protectively. A woman in her prime shouldn’t be so vulnerable. She should have been safely married off years ago. Part of Lorelei desperately wanted him to leave so she could regain a sense of control over herself, but she’d promised him a home-cooked meal. Of course, what else he might expect was a concern.
“I’ll be glad to make you breakfast or dinner, but—”
“Whatever you make is fine as long as it’s quick. I need to mend the shed so it’s sturdy enough to protect Lucky before this storm breaks.” He studied a darkening sky. “Bound to be hail.”
Lorelei followed his gaze. Tall, well defined clouds crowded the horizon. They drifted closer with the force and authority of a slow-moving locomotive. Even the clouds out here in the West were threatening.
She glanced back at Braddock. “So you’ll be staying until the storm passes?”
Braddock towel dried his horse with powerful strokes. It stretched its long mahogany neck, apparently loving the attention. “I said I’m staying till your brother shows up or Langston believes you’re not a suspect.”
“I don’t think for a moment he’ll believe we’re married.”
“But I think he’ll believe that we’re…friendly.” He stared in a way that warned her he was thinking of her trip to his hotel room. She checked the buttons of her bodice to assure herself she was properly covered. That their relationship in truth swayed toward indecent rather than matrimonial didn’t stop Lorelei from being insulted.
She folded her arms over her chest, hating the fact that being “friendly” with him wasn’t as unappealing as it should be. “Couldn’t you have thought of something else to tell him?”
He shrugged. “Sorry, Lorelei. He knows me.”
She refused to turn away from his blunt clarification of his character. He was hiding his real intentions, and she wouldn’t drop her gaze no matter how desperately she wanted to. “Why did you come back?”
