Heart of a Lawman

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “What’s taking you so long?” Bart called.

  “Another minute!”

  Shaking away her unease, Josie quickly gathered some thin dish towels and plastic bags, a bowl of ice and another of warm water. When she returned to her room, Bart was sprawled across her bed, back propped against the wall. Miss Kitty lay beside him, one paw possessively over his thigh.

  Her mouth went dry at the thought of touching him so intimately.

  “I want to try to keep the bruising down.” Setting everything on the little dresser, she filled one of the plastic bags with ice, wrapped a towel around it and handed it to him. “Hold this against your ribs.”

  Bart said nothing as he took the ice pack from her, but his gaze once more spoke volumes. Self-conscious, trying not to weaken, Josie turned away to prepare a second bag.

  Suddenly, he asked, “Are you a big Eastwood fan?”

  “What?”

  “Clint Eastwood.” Though his expression was placid, he was staring at her with increased intensity, as if he were probing, searching for a way into her mind. “It didn’t come to me right away, but it makes sense. Clint Eastwood used to make Westerns.”

  “Your arm.” She handed him the second ice pack. “I know who Clint Eastwood is.”

  He wedged the first pack against his ribs with his elbow, then pressed the second pack against his upper arm.

  “Is that how you picked your name—from the movie The Outlaw Josey Wales?”

  Josie sighed. So he knew she’d given him a fake name. Leave it to her to pick one that sounded vaguely familiar and went with the initials on her belt buckle and turned out to be a name from a well-known movie.

  Her back to him as she dipped the edge of a towel in the warm water, she hedged, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Moving to the bed to clean his face, she had to place one knee on the mattress to get close enough. Miss Kitty had the good sense to jump away before she got in the crush. The cat moved to the other end of the bed where she could watch comfortably from a pillow.

  “Then you won’t mind showing me your driver’s license,” Bart continued, watching her closely. “You said it was in your bag.” He indicated the corner where she’d left it. “You can get it now, right?”

  “No.”

  Her stomach in knots at the thought of being exposed, Josie placed her free hand under Bart’s jaw so that she could tilt his face and clean it. She concentrated on her first aid rather than the question in his eyes, starting with the hot spot high on his cheek. A little scrape, thankfully nothing more, she thought. Then she turned the cloth to a fresh spot and dabbed at the dried blood on his lip. The cut reopened and a bead of blood pooled there.

  Josie winced for him.

  Before she could turn the cloth and dab again, Bart sat up, which placed the length of his nude torso mere inches from her. Josie couldn’t stop the sudden thrumming of her pulse.

  “You have a kind heart and a gentle soul,” he said. “Animals are never wrong about that, you know. They have good instincts and so do I.”

  Realizing that he was trying to tell her something in a roundabout way—that he trusted her?—Josie still felt confused as to why that should be so important to her. She lowered her gaze and stared at the cleft in his chin.

  Before she fathomed his intention, Bart dropped the ice pack from his arm and hooked his hand behind her neck. Not knowing if it was from the cold or his touch, she shivered. He slowly pulled her head toward him. Then he brushed her mouth with his. Just a momentary touch. Even so, she shuddered at the sensation that was strangely erotic.

  “So…what is your name?”

  The salty metallic taste of his blood lingered on her lower lip, reminding her once more of her guilt.

  “Josie Wales.”

  That guilt edged her response. Bart had come to her rescue more than once. He’d proved himself to be someone she could count on. But could she trust him to stand behind her if she told him everything? Rather, all she’d remembered or conjectured to date, which wasn’t much.

  His lips trailed along her cheek to her ear where he whispered, “Your real name.”

  If only she knew…

  Hot tears sprang to the backs of her eyelids.

  He kissed her again. Deeper…sweeter…longer. His mouth lingered over hers for a moment. She savored every second.

  And then he released her mouth, asking, “Why won’t you tell me?”

  The moment of truth. Could she do it? How long could she avoid it? Besides, she was tired of being strong. Alone. Her burden was so heavy, she could use a shoulder to lean on. A shoulder belonging to someone who cared for her.

  But…did he?

  Unable to stand another evasion…call it what it was, a lie…she finally let it go.

  “I can’t tell you anything different, because I don’t know!”

  “C’mon, trust me.”

  Could she? How could she be certain he wasn’t just trying to manipulate her as she’d suspected him of doing all along at the café?

  Josie pushed Bart away from her and tried to ignore the way he sucked in air. But his pain was her pain, if only for a moment. She couldn’t forget he’d just stopped something unpleasant from happening to her.

  “I don’t know,” she insisted, “because I don’t remember!”

  Bart arched one eyebrow at her. “Now, who’s trying to play whom?” he asked softly.

  In for a penny…

  “I was in an accident,” she explained. “The truck I was driving went off the highway.”

  Certain he’d have his ways of checking things out for himself, Josie didn’t say the word stolen. She couldn’t brand herself a thief in his eyes. Not yet. He’d own the whole truth soon enough.

  “I woke up not knowing who I was,” she continued. “Not remembering anything about the accident…or anything that happened to me before the accident, for that matter.”

  “Amnesia. You’re serious?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “How long?”

  “The day before we met, actually.”

  “And nothing has come back to you?”

  “Only wisps of memory. Nothing substantial…yet.”

  How could she tell Bart that she remembered some faceless, nameless man hitting her…that she relived her own sense of feeling trapped and scared…that she imagined that same man was here in Silver Springs stalking her?

  Though she expected more questions in the same vein from him, they didn’t come. Truth be told, she didn’t know if she was relieved…or disappointed.

  “So, you have a life out there somewhere you don’t remember,” he said. “And a family.”

  “No family—”

  “I thought you didn’t remember.”

  “I don’t.” Was he trying to trick her? “I just…know.” Unable to explain her certainty, she shrugged her shoulders.

  When Bart sank into a thoughtful silence, Josie immediately grew uneasy. He was distancing himself from her. She could sense it.

  That trust thing went two ways, she thought, as her stomach churned. Bart wanted her to trust him…but he obviously didn’t trust her.

  If he cared, he would take her into his arms to reassure her. But that seemed like the furthest thing from his mind right now. Then, again, he’d never said he cared and why should he? He didn’t even know her. Attraction didn’t equal commitment, especially when he had no idea of what she might be getting him into.

  Josie backed away and slipped off the bed, catching Miss Kitty in her arms to anchor herself. She didn’t want to think about this anymore. Didn’t want to examine her own feelings. The cat gave her an adoring look, then settled against her chest and purred.

  A seemingly reluctant but obviously determined Bart rose, as well. He grabbed his shirt and carefully slipped the injured arm into the sleeve.

  “So that bag of yours,” he said, “has no clues as to your identity?”

  “Only…” She’d started to tell him about the pin, but why? It
wouldn’t tell him who she was, and that seemed to be the only thing important to him. “I only wish,” she said instead. She searched his face as he fumbled with the buttons. Did he believe her or not? Did he trust her? She thought not. “I take it you’re leaving.”

  Hands suddenly motionless, he gave her one of those penetrating looks. “Is that an invitation to stay?”

  She wanted him to stay, Josie realized. Wanted him to hold her in his arms all night. Wanted him to make her feel safe. Wanted…more…something she wasn’t willing to put words to…not now.

  What she said was, “I—I just thought you might need to recuperate for a while longer.”

  “I’ll just get stiff.”

  He suddenly sounded stiff, she thought. “But you’ve hardly used the ice packs—”

  “Not a problem. We have an ice-maker at the ranch. And a hot tub.”

  Josie hated the way he suddenly sounded so…neutral. Excuses. He wanted to get away from her, was all. Maybe he thought that she was lying about the amnesia. Or that she was merely unstable. He was wearing a poker face, so she didn’t have a clue.

  “Bart, what are you going to do exactly?” she asked, pulse threading unevenly, this time from some fear she couldn’t define. “About me, I mean?”

  “I thought you didn’t need rescuing.”

  “I—I don’t. I just thought…nothing.”

  She wasn’t fooled by his manner. He would do what came naturally to a lawman, of course. He would investigate her. He would learn she was a thief, and then he would fire her.

  Or worse, he might have her arrested.

  Her stomach burned at the thought.

  Tim Harrigan’s offer to take her anywhere away from here was sounding far more tempting than when he’d proposed it.

  If only she had someplace to go…

  JOSIE STILL WASN’T BEING straight with him.

  The certainty plagued Bart as he drove back to the ranch. She was hiding something. The reason someone would have to shoot at her?

  An accident. Amnesia. It all fit.

  Sore ribs—if not caused by a fist, he thought grimly—could be the downside of wearing a seat belt. And while the bruise had faded to nothing now, the side of her face could have been injured smacking into the window in a crash.

  A head injury would explain it.

  How bad would the injury have to be to wipe out a person’s long-term memory as well as the short? And for so long—judging from the fast-fading bruises, a week or so. He’d heard of cases of hysterical amnesia, of course, in which psychological rather than physical trauma was the cause. Had something so terrible happened to Josie that she’d wiped it clear out of her mind?

  Bart’s head buzzed with anger at the possibility of another woman he cared about being in danger.

  A woman he cared about…

  He did, Bart realized, amazed, because he’d only known Josie for a few days. He’d dated Sara for weeks before he’d realized his feelings for her ran deeper than friendship. And Josie was so different from his late wife.

  Could he be responding to the danger she was in? Trying to save Josie because he hadn’t been able to save his wife? Confusing those emotions with something more personal?

  The Outlaw Josey Wales…a woman on the run. From what?

  Outlaw…

  He shook that thought away faster than it came to him. But it sat there in his subconscious until he had to take it back out to examine it.

  Could the Josie he knew have been involved in something illegal? Or have been accused of it? Is that why she was running and keeping secrets?

  Bart wanted to shake Josie for being so foolish. Sara had kept secrets from him and he’d lost her for it. It all came down to a matter of trust.

  Simply put, Josie didn’t trust him, and Bart didn’t know how to deal with that fact.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bart was determined to keep his emotional distance the next day when he picked up Josie. But the moment she slid in beside him, he felt his determination waver. Though he knew she could be tough, all his instincts made him want to protect her. A level of commitment that went unappreciated on her part. He wanted to yell at her for being so stubborn. So distrusting of his good intentions.

  Instead, he hung on to his temper and said nothing at all. Though he was aware that she sneaked a couple of looks at him, Josie didn’t say a word, either, so they drove the first few miles in a silence heavy with tension.

  Bart didn’t realize how heavy until Josie asked, “How’s your arm doing?” and he realized he had a stranglehold on the steering wheel.

  Relaxing some, he said, “A little sore is all.”

  “Good. Not good that it’s sore,” she quickly amended. “Good that it’s not worse. I, uh—” she cleared her throat nervously “—really do appreciate your coming to my rescue last night.”

  Even knowing how much it took her to say those particular words, Bart waited for more. When none came, he gave in. “It’s the lawman in me, I guess.”

  “Oh.”

  He thought she sounded disappointed, so he added, “And as someone who also cares about what happens to you, Josie, I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

  Though he’d bite off his tongue before asking her to trust him again.

  Josie lapsed back into silence, but this time it was more comfortable, like when two people knew each other well and were content just being together.

  The way he had been with Sara.

  Bart missed that special companionship beyond his missing Sara herself. No one could ever take her place in his heart, he knew, but his heart was big enough for someone else, as well.

  When he realized the direction of his thoughts, Bart got a little jittery. Decided conversation was needed to settle him down.

  Figuring the ranch was the safest topic, he asked, “Have you picked out a horse for yourself?”

  “I’m leaning toward Phantom, the little black with the white blaze and feet. She’s got plenty of spunk. I believe she considers herself the boss horse, but she responds to every command I give her.”

  “And if she gives you trouble, you have those spurs to back you up.”

  “I’m surprised you noticed.”

  “If you don’t want to be noticed, better remove those jingle bobs,” he said.

  Making music being the sole purpose of the tiny pear-shaped pendants dangling from the rowel axles.

  “I guess Phantom is as good as I can ask for my foray into real cowboying.”

  Bart glanced over and noticed she was grinning. Her mischievous smile was contagious. It lit up her face, made her look real pretty, he thought, his blood humming.

  He grinned back and said, “No doubt you’ll be as good as anyone at moving cows.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “That is a compliment, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The sky was a clear azure blue, and the October morning was moderately warm with a nice breeze. Perfect for a cattle drive. The weather channel had predicted impending rains that night, though, so he hoped that the drive would go off without a hitch and that the weather held till they got to the upper pasture. Nothing to look forward to about moving cows in the rain, he remembered, as they reached the bottom of the rimrock.

  He and his brothers had gotten miserable and short-tempered with one another in bad weather more times than he could count. Once they’d had a free-for-all that had ended in the mud, and Pa had wupped them good, had shamed them just for being boys. At the time, Bart had just turned thirteen, Reed had been ten and Chance had only been six.

  They were halfway down to the canyon floor when Bart spotted the loose band of horses ready to gang up on them. As usual, they took seriously their job of challenging the noisy “metal animal” invading their territory.

  Josie’s asking “So what are the plans for today?” took his attention away from the band.

  “We’ll all ride out together to move the cattle that the boys brought out from the north pasture
yesterday. We need to get them up to the flats. Then we’ll be one step closer to shipping them to market.”

  Thereby getting enough money to cover one of the back mortgage payments. Or so he hoped. Beef prices could change overnight. Even a penny a pound was enough to make a big difference in the take-home with a herd this size. But he didn’t have the option of waiting out the market until it turned in their favor.

  If he waited, they could lose the ranch.

  “How many head?” Josie asked.

  “Nearly two hundred cows and their calves. The boys already separated off the bulls,” he told her. “And once we get these critters in, we’ll start moving a herd from another pasture. Then another after that one. Can’t do them all at once without more help, that’s for sure.”

  He was going to have to pin down Pa on that one. Either his brothers were going to show, or he was going to have to hire more hands, or the neighbors were going to have to be as willing to pitch in as Pa thought they were. This was one place where Pa could work without putting his health at further jeopardy, Bart decided, and it would give him that “something to do” the old man kept grousing about.

  The band of horses jogged alongside them, veering off when they neared the buildings. Bart pulled into the yard and noticed a motorbike alongside the pickups parked in front of the storage shed. Peter Dagget was a local still living with his family, so he hadn’t bunked down here for the night.

  “Looks like the kid is early this morning.”

  Josie looked around. “Peter? Where? I don’t see him.”

  Neither did Bart. “Hmm. Maybe he went over to the bunkhouse to chew the fat with the boys.”

  But when Frank and Will came out ready to work, the men said they hadn’t seen the kid. Then the dogs rushed out from the hired man’s quarters, with Moon-Eye following.

  “I thought I heard a bike around dawn,” he said when asked, “but I fell asleep again. I been out and around since, but never saw Peter. Thought maybe Felice invited him inside or something.”