by Diane Darcy
Everyone just wanted to do something.
Men couldn’t just come to town and snatch unwitting women whenever they wanted to.
His protective instincts rushed to the fore as he thought about Grace trying to fight off the man, and a sense of overwhelming gratitude toward the men who’d stopped the attack washed through him once more.
They’d already search the outbuildings in town. They’d knocked on doors and were searching the saloon for the second time.
Frustration welled within him. The man may or may not have had dark hair.
Everyone agreed he was big.
But to Grace, any man would probably be big. Matt and Clem wouldn’t admit to the two of them being bested by a shrimp, would they? So he wasn’t putting a lot of faith in the description he’d been given.
Gabe and Sawyer came back down the stairs and joined him at the bar. “What do you think?” Luke took another drink of his beer.
Gabe looked dangerous, his expression tight, anger obviously simmering not too far from the surface. “I think that the man has probably taken off. I also think he’ll return.” Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “Having a description of the horse is helpful. Clem Roberts swears he saw a man hightail it to the west on a dark bay roan.”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “Ned Keenan over at the stable said he didn’t rent a mount to anyone new or see anyone act in a suspicious manner.”
Luke exhaled. “Which means he brought his own. He was trying to pull Grace out the back door. What if this was more than an attack? What if this was an abduction? He’d need a way to transport her out of town. The trees to the west would’ve been a good place to tie a horse.”
They headed back outside and, as they walked down the street, Luke checked out every single horse, his frustration growing by the minute. They needed more information.
As they reached the mercantile, a man flew out of the door and landed on his backside. Growling with anger, he stood up, brushed himself off, and ran back inside.
A fight. Not so surprising considering tempers were high and accusations were rampant.
The three of them ran inside to break up the fight. Two men were slugging it out by the bar as the owner shouted from the other side of the counter.
Luke jumped into the mix, pulled the men off each other, and threw a couple of punches himself.
This was exactly what he needed, but the men couldn’t have picked a worse location. With Gabe and Sawyer’s help, they pulled the two men out into the street, and pushed them in different directions.
“Get on out of here,” Gabe roared after them.
A knife flashed, and with a yell, Luke barely jumped back in time to avoid being sliced. That left the way free for the man to charge forward and lunge at his opponent.
A scream sounded and then blood poured from a defensive wound in the man’s forearm.
Sawyer and Gabe wrestled the knife-wielder to the ground and finally removed the blade from his grip. His friends cursed at the man as they tried to catch their breath.
A sense of disbelief washed over Luke.
Murder, robbery, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder.
He couldn’t remember the last time any one of these thing had happened in this town. Decades ago?
Gabe knelt on the cursing, kicking the perpetrator as Sawyer wrapped the other man’s wound. “He’s gonna need to see the doctor in Santa Ana.”
“Can you take him?” Luke asked.
Sawyer snorted and shook his head. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”
Gabe shook the man in his grasp. “You any good at gambling?”
“The best. And he’s a cheating liar!” The prisoner nodded to the bleeding man.
“All right, you’re coming with me. I’m locking you up.” Gabe shoved him forward and shot the injured man a pointed look. “And as for you, I suggest you let the doc patch you up and then go sleep it off somewhere.”
Gabe hauled one man away, and Sawyer took the other toward his wagon.
Luke headed inside the store to make sure all was well inside.
His cheek was throbbing. How was he supposed to protect Grace from the very elements that he’d brought to town? He couldn’t watch her every second.
Maybe he needed to teach her to protect herself. She couldn’t throw a punch, but he’d bet she’d like to learn to shoot a gun.
Grace lay in bed.
As the widow was on the warpath, it seemed like the safest place to be.
Mrs. Braxton had called all her friends and they were downstairs having a meeting about what had happened to Grace, and what they could do about it.
Earlier, she’d heard raised voices, but things seemed to have calmed down since then. Grace had been sent to bed with a cold compress to hold against her face.
She was calm now, and still thinking about the attack.
He’d called her Penny. Granted, she’d originally introduced herself as Penny when she’d come to town. Perhaps the name was still floating about and he’d overheard it? Surely it had to be the same man who had attacked them in New York?
Surely her luck couldn’t be so bad that she’d attracted yet another madman?
And yet, he hadn’t looked anything like the villain who’d attacked them outside of the library. She knew she’d been worried she wouldn’t recognize him, but she knew one thing for sure—he’d had very dark hair. She was positive of that. Regardless of what her rescuers had said, the man who attacked her today had been blonde, not dark-haired.
So, another deranged person?
Was this some sort of cosmic retribution for the fact that she’d led Penny into danger? Now it was her turn?
Grace sighed. She didn’t know, and was worn out thinking about it.
She heard pebbles bounce against the window, and her head jerked toward the noise.
Luke!
She jumped up from the bed and rushed to the window. Sure enough, he was outside. She threw open the window and whispered, “Luke. What’s happened? Did you find the man?”
Luke shook his head, and from the way his jaw tensed, she could tell it was not the answer he wanted to give her.
Her shoulders lowered as a frisson of fear trickled up her spine. “So he’s still out there?” She looked around as if afraid the man would rush into the garden. By the time she looked back again, Luke was hefting a ladder up to the house.
“What are you doing?”
“I want you to come down here.”
Grace looked down at him. “Mrs. Braxton is having a meeting. All her friends are here.”
He smiled up at her. “Come on. You need to learn how to protect yourself, and I’m going to teach you how.”
Now that was intriguing.
“Climb down.”
She hesitated. “What do you mean by teach me?”
“Why don’t you come down here and find out? Didn’t you say you wanted a grand adventure? Well, here it is. Are you brave enough to grasp it?”
Drat the man. Why did he always have to be so tempting? She considered for a long moment. “I don’t know. It seems like every time I’m around you, I end up getting in trouble.”
“I wasn’t with you today, was I? And you got into trouble all on your own.”
“As if I’m to blame for strange madmen roaming your town?”
He dipped his head, but not before she caught the guilt in his expression. He tested the ladder. “Come down before the widow catches us.”
She really should just shut the window. She should go downstairs and join Mrs. Braxton and her friends. But as she looked down into Luke’s smiling face, temptation roiled within her once more. “Again, I’ll ask you. What are you going to teach me?”
His expression changed and became slightly calculating, predatory even. “What do you want to learn? How to use a knife, or how to shoot a gun?”
Oh. He truly was temptation incarnate. She should just stay in her room, and she knew it. Even as she thought it, she was scrawl
ing a note to say she was with Luke, then throwing a leg over the windowsill. “Don’t look.”
She heard him chuckle, a low sound that drifted up.
The things this man could talk her into.
The two of them were soon out of town.
The thought of what could have happened to her earlier still had him breaking out in the occasional sweat.
He didn’t, however, bring up the incident. The last thing she needed was more mollycoddling or pity. Getting her out into the fresh air, making sure she knew she was safe and protected—that’s what interested him now.
They finally stopped at the same meadow they’d picnicked at a few weeks before. He locked the wagon and helped her down.
She glanced around. “You’d better watch yourself, Mayor Carrington. This could end up being our regular meeting spot. If word got around about this, what would people say?”
“They’d say, there goes that Miss Carmichael, chasing after the Mayor again.”
She made a sound of disgust. “They’d probably say just that. And all the while, we both know that you are the one who is leading me to temptation.”
Luke laughed. He was glad to see that, regardless of what had happened earlier, she still had her spunk. “Am I tempting you?”
Grace straightened and said primly, “I’m here for a lesson, nothing more.”
Luke chuckled, loving how she amused him constantly. “All right, what would you like to learn? To protect yourself?”
A look of fear suddenly crossed her face.
His spine straightened. “Don’t think about that. Don’t think about him. We are going to catch that …” He bit his tongue to stop the flow of cuss words that nearly exploded from his mouth. “That man. I can promise you that.”
“Then why do you want to teach me how to defend myself?”
“Because nothing, and no one, is allowed to touch the look of confidence that is usually in your beautiful eyes. I will protect that at all costs.”
She turned to look at him, and he realized this was the first time she’d actually looked him straight in the eyes since he’d talked her into coming with him. There was worry in her gaze, yes. And fear. But there was something else too; a vulnerability, and it made him want to pull her into his arms.
Barring that, he wanted to smash things.
They were here for lessons, so he held out his hand, and when she cautiously placed hers within his, he felt like he’d just conquered the world. “Come on. I’m going to teach you a few things, and if anyone so much as looks at you cross-eyed in the future, you’re going to be able to look them straight in the eyes, and they’ll know without saying a word that you know how to handle yourself. Understand?”
She swallowed. “I understand.”
Still holding her hand, he walked her to the center of the meadow and then pulled her around to face him. “Knife or gun?”
Startled hazel eyes met his own. “Are you insane?”
“I was pretty clear about the weapons. What did you think I was going to teach you?”
“Fisticuffs?”
He laughed. “All right.” He raised both hands, palms out. “Make a fist and hit me with everything you’ve got right here in my palm.”
She laughed, struck out at him, and when he moved, she almost fell to the ground.
He grabbed her by the waist until she had her balance, then gave her a squeeze, enjoying the suppleness of her flesh just a bit too much. He released her. “I mean it. Try and hit me! You scared?”
That look of determination on her face smacked him directly in the heart. He softened inside; something within him seeming to melt.
She lunged and struck him a glancing blow in the arm as he skipped back out of the way. “Not bad. Try again.”
She blew at a bit of hair that had come loose from her bun. “Are you going to move?”
He grinned, and bit back a laugh, delighted with her. “I will move.”
Her expression full of determination, she swung for him again.
This time, he clamped his large hand around her small fist and pulled her close, flush against his body. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he held her tight and helpless against him.
Heat seemed to flame between them.
She squirmed to get away but he didn’t let her go. “Do you see that fisticuffs are not really going to get you what you want?”
“Which is what?” She struggled against him, sounding furious.
“Which is total annihilation of the enemy.”
She giggled. He continued to hold her close, and she slowly relaxed against him and giggled again. “Total annihilation?”
He smiled into her hair, reluctant to let her go. “So, knives or guns.”
“Do you really expect me to get into a knife fight, Mayor Carrington?”
He chuckled at the words, but was enjoying the closeness of her body against his too much, so he let her go. “So, guns it is?”
She cleared her throat. “I suppose.”
He took a step back, considered hauling her against him again and kissing her, but instead took a deep breath. “Stay here. I need to do something.”
As he walked away, determined to put a bit of distance between them for a moment, he wished he would’ve taken the opportunity to press a kiss to her mouth. Lord! She was driving him crazy.
He set some large rocks on a fallen log, then gestured her forward as he walked toward a likely spot. She reached him quickly, and he unclipped his holster and pulled out his revolver. He opened the chamber, and showed her the bullets. “Six bullets. Do you see?”
“Why would I need six?”
“Because you’re probably a lousy shot.”
“I am not a lousy shot.”
“Have you ever even held one?”
“No. But that only means I’m inexperienced.”
He took another breath. “All right. Let’s do this.” He lifted the revolver, carefully aimed, and felt her step closer. Close enough that he could feel her skirts brush against him. He shot and missed the target.
“I thought you were trying to hit those rocks?”
Luke glared at her for a moment, then took aim, and felt her small hand settled on his back. He shot and missed again.
“So you’re not shooting for the rocks?”
He fired twice more in rapid succession, and his second shot finally knocked one of the rocks off the log.
“Oh. Now I see why you need six bullets. It’s because you are a lousy shot.”
He holstered the gun and turned to face her, his hands going to his hips. “I am not a lousy shot.” Had she stepped closer to him on purpose or had it been innocence on her part? Had she touched him deliberately? In the end, he didn’t say a word. He simply pulled more bullets out of his pocket, emptied the chambers and reloaded. He flipped the cylinder closed.
“Is it my turn?” she asked, reaching for his gun.
“Not yet.”
Again, he took aim, and again she moved closer, this time her hand landing on the small of his back. He pointed the muzzle at the ground. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
Again, he hesitated to blame her. Plus, if she didn’t realize she was touching him of her own free will, he didn’t want to be the one to point it out. He took a breath, raised the gun again, and took careful aim. Her hand moved to his waist and he shot and missed.
“Grace!”
“What?” She looked up at him with such wide innocent eyes, that again, he hesitated to accuse her.
“Is it my turn?”
“In a minute.” Although he’d only shot one rock off the log, he walked all the way over to set another one on top to replace it. Again, he needed a little time and distance away from her. Moving back to her, he searched her angelic expression. “All right. It’s your turn.”
She smiled. “What do I do?”
He placed another bullet in the chamber and moved behind her. He lifted the revolver and, not quite pressing his che
st against her back, pointed the barrel toward the rock. “Keep your index finger here,” he laid his finger straight over the trigger guard. “Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Now take aim through here,” he showed her how to line up her vision with the front site. “Understood?”
“Yes.” Using both hands, she took the revolver and lifted it. The gun seemed overlarge in her small, delicate hands.
“All right, now take a breath, aim right down the site, close your left eye, take careful aim, and gently squeeze the trigger. As you do all of this, slowly let out your breath.”
She aimed and he stood behind her and laid his hands on her waist. “That’s right.”
She squeezed the trigger, and her shot went wild.
She looked at him over one shoulder, putting their faces closer together, her lips closer to his. “It does seem more difficult than it looks.”
He smiled. He gave her waist a squeeze, and stepped back. “All right, let’s try one more time.”
She raised the gun again, and he stepped back into position, his hands going to her hips this time.
Another wild shot.
He dug his fingers into her hips, barely able to stop himself from swinging her around and into his arms. But, she did have a gun in her hands.
“Do you want to try again?”
Her breathing quickened and her heart felt as if it was going to beat right out of her chest. “Would you show me one more time?”
He took the proffered gun, moved forward, and took aim. Once again, she moved closer. He could see her looking at the rocks out of the corner of his eye. She was close enough that her skirt wrapped around his leg. Was it his imagination, or did his hand tremble?
He took extra careful aim, shot, and missed.
“It’s all right.” Her voiced oozed sympathy. “Shooting probably isn’t for everyone. Maybe we could bring the sheriff next time? Perhaps he could give us both some pointers?”
Jealousy fired through him and his gaze narrowed. “You’d best be teasing me right now.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
He swung so he could close in on her, forcing her to move back. “I think you know exactly what I mean.” He holstered the gun, snapped it into place, and advanced on her. Something in his expression apparently had her backing away, but she was grinning as she did so.
