One particular boot print stood out from the rest, not just because it was slightly larger, but because of a faint star pattern on the heel of the right boot.
Dugan hunkered down and studied the print before he glanced up at Clive. “You got any sheets of paper in the office?”
“Sure do. How many ya want?”
“Two ought to do it,” Dugan said, continuing to study the prints while Clive went into the office and returned with two sheets of paper torn from a tablet.
Dugan roughly sketched the pattern of the boot print, including the star on one paper. The second, he pressed into the moist soil over the print, concentrating on the heel area. Although it wouldn’t be detailed, the paper held the shape of the imprint.
He rolled the two papers together and fastened them with a bit of rawhide string he took from his pocket.
Clive followed him as he walked around the area in ever-widening circles until he found where two horses had churned up the ground about thirty feet away.
“Looks like your thief wasn’t working alone,” Dugan said, pointing to the tracks.
“Huh,” Clive said, studying the hoof prints. “Well, I’m almost sure I hit the guy at least once.”
Dugan had noticed what appeared to be drops of blood. “I’ll check with Doc to see if anyone’s been in with a gunshot wound. In the meantime, you might want to post a night guard. I’d hate to think of someone stealing your profits, Clive. You’ve worked too long and hard to have that happen.”
Clive nodded. “Don’t I know it. Besides, I got a partner to keep happy, too.”
“And such a demanding one, isn’t she,” Dugan teased.
A sigh rolled out of Clive. “Ya don’t know the half of it. She expects me to bathe regularly and change my clothes, and keep the cabin and myself vermin free. Brianna is an unrelenting taskmaster for certain.”
Dugan knew from experience the sheriff’s wife could be a hard one to wrangle with when she set her mind to something. He grinned, then shifted his focus back to the matter at hand. “I can’t make any promises, Clive, but I’ll try to catch whoever tried to break in before he succeeds. Just be careful.”
“I will, Dugan. Thanks for riding out here this morning. Can I feed ya some lunch? I got leftover stew.”
“No, thank you. I best get back to town.” Dugan walked over to where his horse waited. He tucked the papers inside his saddlebag, then swung onto the back of Barton. “You stay out of trouble.”
“Ya do the same,” Clive said, waving his uninjured arm as Dugan turned to leave.
He was halfway down the mountain on his way back to town when he came across a woman alone in a wagon. She’d stopped on the side of the road and looked spooked. The horses were equally as unsettled as they quivered in their harnesses. The traces were twisted and the lines were so snarled it looked like someone had tried to tie them in a knot.
Dugan rode up next to the wagon and tipped his hat to the woman, noting she appeared to be expecting a baby in the not too distant future. “Everything okay, ma’am?”
Slowly, she nodded, resting her hand on the mound of her stomach. “I think so. A cougar jumped out in front of the team and sent the horses into a tizzy. They took off running and I thought for sure and certain they’d wreck the wagon before I finally got the fool critters to stop.” She released a long breath. “I just needed a minute to recover from the jitters before I get things straightened out.”
“I’m happy to help you, ma’am. My name’s Deputy Durfey. You new to the area?” Dugan swung off Barton and set about righting the traces and lines.
The woman spoke while he worked. “I come to Baker City nigh on four years ago to marry up with my man. He sent for me with one of them mail-order advertisements. Don’t get into town much, though.”
He glanced up at her. “Your husband a miner?”
“Part of the time. Rest of it, he puts in a little effort at farming. So far, he ain’t been too successful at either.” She rubbed her belly again.
“Are you sure you’re feeling well, ma’am? I could take you in to see the doctor. He’s good and his pricing is fair.”
“I can’t afford no doctoring and I’m fine. My bolts and hinges just got a little rattled. That’s all. No need to worry.”
Dugan finished the task and patted the rump of the horse closest to him before walking up to its head to make sure the harness was still properly fastened. He gave the horse a few encouraging pats then repeated his examination with the second horse before walking around the wagon to ensure the wheels and axles looked operable.
“Everything seems to be in working order,” he said, mounting Barton. “Would you like me to drive the wagon for you? I assume you’re heading into town.”
She evaded his question and shook her head. “I’ll be just fine, Deputy, but thank you kindly for your help.”
He tipped his hat to her again. “Just take it easy and get yourself home in one piece.”
Every gentlemanly manner his mother had taught him hollered for him to take the reins away from the woman and drive her wherever it was she needed to go.
But the determined look on her face and the set of her jaw let him know any further assistance would not be appreciated or tolerated.
Reluctantly, he rode off, hoping the high-spirited team didn’t kill her before she made it home.
The woman, in her soon-to-be motherly state, brought thoughts of Jemma Jordan to mind. Thane had grown so concerned about her birthing the baby out at the ranch he’d forced her to stay with Edwin and Hattie Greenfield.
Dugan had been among those who’d gone to the Greenfield’s for lunch after church the past Sunday. Once the meal was over, Thane announced his plans for Jemma to stay at the boardinghouse, informing her she could return to the ranch after the baby arrived, but definitely not before.
Jemma had blistered his ears with her opinions on the matter. Nonetheless, Thane had left a bag he’d asked Allie to pack for her, promised to return to see her soon, and drove off with Lily crying for her mother and Jack uncertain which parent to support.
Dugan could easily see Thane’s point, but he understood Jemma’s, too. If it was him and he lived an hour from town, he’d want his wife as close to the doctor as possible, especially when she was already two weeks past her due date.
When he’d first seen Jemma Sunday, he hardly recognized her as the elegant, graceful woman he’d met when she’d arrived in Baker City a year and a half ago. She looked tired, swollen, and could barely waddle down the aisle between the church pews.
Dugan had heard some of the gossiping old biddies in town saying how improper it was for her to be seen in public in her condition. He’d had to bite his tongue to keep from telling them to mind their own business. The notion of forcing a woman to stay home or hide her pregnancy was ridiculous, at least to his way of thinking.
Babies weren’t anything to be ashamed of. Someday, Dugan hoped to have a few of his own to raise, cherish, and love.
Thoughts of his babies brought an image of dark haired little imps with snapping brown eyes to mind. Eyes that looked just like Delilah Robbins’ rich, chocolatey peepers. Now that she and her father had left Baker City, he doubted he’d ever see her again. Regrets of not spending more time with her when she was there filled him. He should have made more of an effort to get to know her better.
The woman was smart, funny, kind, and beautiful. So incredibly beautiful. Each time he considered her, not just how enchanting she always appeared but her, a feeling of warmth and home and belonging flooded over him. He’d never experienced that before and hadn’t been sure what to do about it. Not that it mattered, with her heading across the country.
A weary sigh rolled out of him. It was probably for the best he hadn’t gotten to know her better, deepened his affection for her. Her leaving would have been just that much harder if he’d grown any closer to her.
But it sure made his heart ache to think of her being gone.
In need of a f
ew moments to himself, Dugan guided his horse along a road that skirted to the south of town and took him out to the river just past Ian and Maggie MacGregor’s place.
When he reached his favorite spot, he swung out of the saddle and led Barton to the edge of the water to get a drink. He ground-tied the horse in a patch of verdant grass then sat down in the sunshine and leaned his back against a rock. Too bad he didn’t have a hook and line or he could have done a little fishing.
Instead, Dugan removed his hat, closed his eyes, and let the warm sun and the sounds around him draw the tension from his body. Water gurgled in the river. Birds chirped and warbled all around him from their positions in the trees.
The symphony from the birds nudged his thoughts right back to Delilah. What would she say about the birds? He knew she loved them and had witnessed her excitement over them on a few occasions.
He wondered what she thought would happen to her beloved birds if she gave that raccoon she’d named Oliver a permanent home. Crazy woman. Didn’t she know the coon would steal the eggs right out of the nests and eat the birds small enough for him to catch?
The last time he’d stopped by the house, a place he now thought of as a charming cottage thanks to her efforts, to check on the progress of her yard project, he’d been astounded at the alterations that had taken place. With the few trees that had already been growing in the yard, the transformation from a lot full of weeds to a splendid garden had begun. She already had birds nesting in the trees.
Like a child on Christmas morning, she’d excitedly pointed out each nest and talked in detail about the birds that had selected her yard as their home. He recognized a few of the names she’d mentioned, but others he had no idea about. He’d even gone home and dug through his collection of books until he found one about birds and read up on the subject.
“And for what?” he muttered to himself, disappointed it had only taken a month for Ross and Delilah to head back to Washington, D.C. He thought they’d both taken to Baker City and were enjoying the challenges of the place along with the people. If they had no intention of staying, he couldn’t begin to fathom why Delilah would spend all the time and effort on the yard and fixing up the house.
It made no sense. None at all.
Then again, women were mystifying creatures Dugan had no hope of ever understanding.
The peace he’d sought fled, so he opened his eyes and propped his arms behind his head, leaning back and gazing up at the cloudless spring sky. The weather sure had been mild. In fact, the last few days it felt more like early summer than springtime. It certainly looked like spring with everything green and fresh and bursting with life.
Another sigh rolled out of him as he shifted his gaze from the sky to a stand of trees across the meadow. Something large wiggling in the branches drew his attention. It might be a small brown bear, an overgrown raccoon, or a cougar. Between the trees obscuring his view and the fact it was all the way across the meadow, he couldn’t be sure.
Unhurried, he sat up and settled his hat back on his head. With deliberate movements, he stood and made his way across the meadow on silent feet.
Whatever was in the tree certainly didn’t belong there. Snatches of brown stood out among the green leaves. A few more feet closer and he concluded the intruder in the tree was of the human variety, most likely a boy. Why wasn’t the youngster in school?
Dugan moved directly beneath the tree and looked up. A grin spread across his face and his eyebrows rose toward the brim of his hat. The person in the tree might be dressed like a boy, but with a curvy backside like that, and a long tendril of wavy brown hair escaping the cap tugged on their head, he had no doubt he was staring up at a woman.
But what woman would wear britches and climb trees? This one shimmied up to a branch where he could see a bird’s nest close to the end of it. She straddled the branch and inched her way forward.
The only female he could think of who’d do such a thing was on a train heading east. Wasn’t she?
When the woman stretched out on a limb, trying to get a better view into a bird’s nest, he caught a glimpse of her profile and sucked in a breath.
“Delilah?” he asked in baffled wonderment.
The woman gasped as she whipped her head around to look at him. She lost her grip and would have fallen if she hadn’t quickly regained her composure and wrapped her arms around the branch.
“What in Sam Hill are you doing up there?” Dugan shifted so he could get a better look at her face.
“Before you scared me witless, I was examining a pine grosbeak nest,” she hissed. “Hush while I try to do a quick sketch.”
Dugan shook his head, but remained silent as she regained her balance and took a small sketchpad and pencil from the pocket of her jacket. She scooted a little closer to the nest then quickly began sketching.
From his position below her, he couldn’t see what she drew. In fact, what he could see was a bit of yellow polka-dotted stocking above the top of her small brown boots where the hem of her britches had hiked up to nearly mid-calf.
He studied the shapely curve of her calf and let his eyes travel upward, across her trouser-covered leg to the brown jacket she wore over a cotton shirt. Her chest rose and fell, pressing against the snug fabric as she hastily worked.
Unabashedly, Dugan watched each time her chest lifted and settled. Finally, he forced his gaze upward. He observed her tongue firmly planted in her cheek as she worked, the way her eyes intently focused on the nest as her pencil slid across the page of her sketchbook. The boy’s cap on her head did little to hide the gleaming shine of her hair, especially when several locks had escaped the confines and fell around her face and down her back.
She should have been miles and miles away from Baker City, if she’d gone with her father. So what was she doing here, of all places?
If she ever climbed out of the tree, he supposed he’d get the answers to his questions. Much to his surprise, he watched as a bird hopped onto the edge of the nest, tipped its head and studied Delilah.
Afraid if he spoke he might spook the bird, he remained still and silent as Delilah finished her sketch. Slowly, she tucked the sketchbook and pencil into her pocket.
For a moment, he thought she might reach out and try to touch the bird, but with a final parting glance, she worked her way back along the limb until she reached the trunk. She somehow turned herself around, took hold of the trunk and started working her way down the tree. She was nearly to the bottom when she grinned at him and missed placing her foot on a limb.
A gasp escaped her as she lost her hold and fell. Dugan opened his arms as she conveniently dropped straight into them.
“Oh, gracious!” she said. Involuntarily, her arms wrapped around his neck as he held her close against his chest.
If he cared to admit it, he sure liked the way she felt in his arms and fit against him. When he looked down at her, her face was but a mere inch or so from his; her lips ripe for kissing.
“Delilah?” His voice was low and raspy, as though he’d run for miles and was about to die of thirst. Only it wasn’t water he needed, but to drink of her lips, to savor the quenching splendor of her kiss.
“Hmm?” she asked in a husky tone that sent blood searing through his veins.
“I just might die right here if I don’t kiss you. Any objections?” His mouth hovered ever closer to hers.
She remained silent, although her eyelashes fluttered closed. Subtly, so subtly, she nudged herself closer to him.
Dugan didn’t rush the kiss. No, he wouldn’t hurry something he’d dreamed about every day of the last month.
With restraint, he brushed his lips over hers in the lightest of touches. Once. Twice. The third time instead of lifting his mouth away, he moved his lips against hers. Her lips were so smooth, so soft, and the lingering taste of something sweet clung to them.
A sound escaped her. A moan. A sigh of pleasure.
Dugan didn’t know, couldn’t gather enough wisdom to care. H
e deepened the kiss and lost himself in the blissful pleasure of it. Delilah tasted of berries and springtime, a flavor he’d long savor.
The world around them faded. There was only the desirable, wonderful woman in his arms who returned the fervor of his kisses until he finally broke their amorous connection and drew in a ragged breath.
“I thought you’d gone,” he whispered, pressing kisses to her cheeks, her forehead. “Didn’t I see your father board the eastbound train this morning?”
“Yes,” she said, tilting her head to one side as his lips worked their way over her jaw to nibble her neck. “Papa’s going to pack up the rest of our things and ship them out here. He should be back in three weeks, four at the most. While he’s gone, I’ll keep an eye on the weather station.”
Dugan nuzzled her ear. “I’m so glad you stayed, Delilah.”
She smiled and bracketed his face, pulling his mouth around to meet her eager lips. “Me, too.”
Alone in the woods with no one to chaperone them but the whistling birds overhead, Dugan finally came to his senses, gave Delilah one last, quick kiss, and slowly set her on her feet.
He took a step back, surveyed her clothes, and offered her a rascally wink. “Suppose you explain what you’re doing out here, then, dressed like that.”
Delilah glanced down, as though she’d just realized she wore britches and a boy’s cap instead of one of her lovely gowns. “Oh, well, I’m, um… you see…” She cleared her throat and glanced over Dugan’s shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. “After Papa left this morning, I was feeling sorry for myself because I’ll miss him so. I took a walk to the park and noticed a lovely little bird flying around. I couldn’t believe my luck in spying a pine grosbeak. When the bird flew off, I followed it and it led me out here.” She shrugged. “I went home and changed, grabbed my sketchbook and returned. I’ve not yet sketched one and there are four eggs up in the nest, Dugan.”
It was the first time she’d called him by his Christian name. Deuced and danged, but he sure liked the way it sounded when she said it.
Lightning and Lawmen Page 11
