Taken by the Cowboy

by Julianne MacLean

  "Yes! I don't know why, but that's what happened. I didn't kill him."

  Wade studied her warily, and she wondered if he’d ever believe anything she said.

  "We don’t have time for this,” he replied at last. “We have to get you out of here."

  "But where will I go? They'll find me."

  He strode closer and held out his hand, gesturing strongly that she accept it. "I'll see that they don't."

  "But what makes you so sure you can keep me safe? There's only one of you."

  He stared at her intently, then knelt down and took both her hands in his.

  "I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, but you have to come with me now.”

  He was so close, she could smell his clean, outdoorsy scent, and those hands—those killer hands—were so warm upon hers.

  “Okay.”

  She was always such a sucker for a man who asked nicely.

  Something faintly reassuring sparked in his eyes as he rose to his full height, and Jessica felt a sudden charge of connection, an inexplicable bond between them.

  “Do you need to pack anything?” he asked. “You may not be back here for a while."

  "How long is a while?"

  "Hard to say."

  She looked down at her dress. "I don't really own anything else, other than my jeans and jacket. I was going to buy another dress when I got the reward money."

  He inclined his head, as if confounded by her reply, then started for the door. "Let's go, then."

  "But wait. I should leave a note for Angus."

  She ran up the stairs and pulled a sheet of paper out of his desk.

  After tacking the explanation of her whereabouts to his bedroom door, she took one hurried look around her room, then headed for the stairs. She stopped dead at the top, however, when Sheriff Wade shouted up at her.

  "Jessica! Stay where you are!"

  “Why?”

  "There's a rider coming, and he’s got a gun."

  Chapter Eight

  Jessica hurried back into her room, slammed the door shut and locked it. She dashed to the window. Outside, a man on a brown horse reached into his saddlebag, withdrew something that looked like a baseball, and pitched it. Glass smashed in the other bedroom. Jessica ducked down and hit the floor, afraid the rider might see her and fire a shot.

  A frantic moment later, she heard him gallop away. The blinding terror of the hoof beats faded into the distance.

  Barely able to breathe over the crazy velocity of her heart, Jessica got to her feet and sank into the wing-backed chair, resting her hand on her heaving chest, listening numbly to Sheriff Wade’s boots tapping up the stairs.

  "Jessica!" The knob turned and the door rattled. "Open up. It’s me. He’s gone."

  She rushed to let him in. "He had a gun."

  "I know." Wade pulled her into his arms and held her. “You all right?”

  Resting her cheek on his chest, Jessica listened to the heavy rhythm of his heart. His hand cupped the nape of her neck, and she slid her arms around his waist.

  “I thought he was going to come in here and shoot me,” she said.

  He rubbed his chin over the top of her head. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Suddenly conscious of the emotion rising up within her, she drew back slightly, gripped his coat lapels in her fists, and looked up at him with parted lips. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it very badly.

  He frowned—as if he were angry that she had lured him, against his will, into holding her like this and caring about her safety.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he gently pushed her away before she had a chance to speak.

  "I heard a window break," he said.

  She pointed. "The other room."

  He took her by the hand and led her down the hall to Angus’s room.

  Sharp slivers of broken glass covered the floor. Sheriff Wade stepped carefully across the braided rug, while Jessica waited in the doorway, still shaken by her fear and the unexpected intimacy they’d just shared.

  Crouching down on his hands and knees, he reached under the bed and pulled out a large stone with a note tied around it. He read the note, then frowned at Jessica.

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  Without a word of explanation, he handed her the note as he passed by her on his way out of the room.

  She stood in the doorway, reading it with eyes that refused to stay focused.

  HAND IT OVER OR DIE.

  "Sheriff Wade!" She quickly followed him down the stairs. "Where are you going?"

  He was already halfway out the door. "I should be strung up and left to rot.”

  “Why?” She followed him out onto the porch.

  "You just lied to me again, didn’t you?” he asked as he untied the leather reins from the bottom post. “About not shooting Lou."

  "No!" she insisted, feeling the sting of his words more than she cared to admit. "I don't know what this note means. You have to believe me."

  He looked up. "Think hard. They want something you have. What is it?"

  She was more confused now than she had been the night she arrived. "I don't know! Maybe the reward money? Maybe they killed Lou."

  He bowed his head so that she couldn’t see his face under the brim of his hat. "I don’t know when to believe you, and when not to. It feels like you’re always hiding something."

  She knew she couldn’t continue to lie to him, because it was pointless. He could see right through her.

  “Okay,” she admitted at last. “I am keeping something from you, but it’s not what you think.”

  His shoulders lifted noticeably.

  “But I can’t tell you what it is,” she added, picking up her skirts to move down the steps.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’d never believe it anyway. All I can say is that my secret has nothing to do with Lou. Honestly, I didn't shoot him." She approached Wade and laid her hand on his arm, hoping to keep him from riding away from her when at that moment she needed him more than ever.

  "Why'd you say you did, if you didn’t?"

  "Because I wanted to get out of jail,” she explained. “Angus said it was the simplest thing to do."

  Sheriff Wade removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. "Either way, you lied to me, and it’s not so easy to trust you now."

  "Please trust me,” she pleaded, “at least about this. I didn't kill Lou or anyone else for that matter. I swear it on my life."

  He stared at her a moment while he considered it. "I know this much at least. Lou’s gang didn't shoot him."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Because these guys have a keen appreciation for easy money. They would've come forward for the reward, and everyone knows you don’t have it yet."

  "But they're outlaws, aren't they? Maybe they didn't want to get arrested."

  He shook his head. "They're not wanted for anything at the moment. The governor gave them a pardon for trading information about Lou a while back."

  She regarded him keenly. "So they were his enemies… Doesn't that give them a motive, and make them suspects?"

  “Maybe, but it still doesn’t explain why they didn’t come forward for the money right away if they were the ones who shot him. Besides, they only rode into town this afternoon.” He took the note she still held in her hand and read it again. His eyes lifted. They glimmered darkly with resolve. "I won't help you unless you tell me the truth. What is it they want from you? Whatever it is, I reckon it's mighty important."

  She shrugged helplessly. "I already told you everything I know. I didn’t kill Lou, and I have no idea what they’re after."

  He looked away toward the stockyards as if sorting through everything in his mind. Then at last he faced her.

  "All right,” he said. “I’ll help you, but to do that, I have to take you away from here."

  She breathed deeply with relief as he placed a booted foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself u
p into the saddle.

  “You coming?” He held his hand down to her.

  Jessica took an uneasy step back. "Uh, I’ve never been on a horse before.”

  Looking more than a little surprised, he leaned forward and crossed his wrists over the saddle horn. "Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?”

  She shook her head.

  He studied her for a moment, then leaned back. “Well, the way I see it, you can either get up here and ride with me, or you can wait for that plug-ugly border ruffian to come back." He thumbed his hat back off his forehead as he scanned the horizon. "I sure as hell ain't waitin' around."

  Jessica shifted her weight from one foot to the other, while her stomach rolled with anxiety. “What’s his name?”

  “Thunder.” Wade stroked and patted the horse’s neck. “He’s as steady as they come.”

  She let her gaze roam over Thunder’s muscular neck and strong legs.

  Finally, with no choice but to surrender to her fate, she offered her hand, and Truman pulled her up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Relax and hold on to me,” Wade said, as he clicked his tongue to urge Thunder into a slow canter.

  They crossed a few back streets, and Jessica slowly adjusted to the rhythm of the horse’s gait. It was nerve-racking at first, but she soon caught on, opened her eyes, and marveled at the impossible circumstances of her life. Here she was, riding across a prairie town on the back of a horse, to escape a gang of outlaws in the Wild West.

  Not to mention the fact that her arms were wrapped around a gorgeous gunslinger’s waist, and she could feel the firm bands of muscle at his torso where her forearm was resting on his revolver, and she was overwhelmingly aware of his appealing strength and masculinity.

  He was unlike any man she had ever met. He wasn’t addicted to texting or Tweeting, and he would never brag about the label on his suits or care about a spot on the leather interior of his luxury car.

  Truman Wade had more important things on his mind. Like preventing violence.

  And he smelled so…

  Outdoorsy.

  She fought to distract herself from the intoxicating aroma of his rugged appeal, to focus on more critical matters.

  “Where are we going?" she asked.

  "Back to the jailhouse."

  Jessica lifted her chin off his shoulder. "But isn’t that right in the middle of town? Are you sure that’s wise?"

  "Leave the decisions to me, Junebug. I know what I’m doing.”

  They rode up to the back door of the jailhouse, and he dismounted and lifted her down. Then Wade tethered Thunder to a post.

  Dempsey met them at the door. "I heard about Lou's gang. Wendy told me. She said they left the saloon talking about scaring somebody."

  "Yeah, well, they did a pretty good job,” Wade replied. “They delivered this note to Miss Delaney." He handed the wrinkled sheet of paper to Dempsey as he escorted Jessica into the office.

  "What do they want?" Dempsey asked, following them inside.

  Wade sat down at his desk. "We don’t know yet."

  At least he seemed to believe her for once, Jessica thought, as she took a seat on the stool near the far cabinet.

  "Did Wendy hear anything else?” Wade asked Dempsey. “Did they say where they planned to spend the night?"

  "No, but Bart has kin at the Triple T Ranch. Maybe they’re riding out there."

  Wade nodded, leaned back in his chair, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. From clear across the room, Jessica heard the sound of his rough fingers brushing over his whiskers. "I think I’ll ride out there myself and have a friendly word or two." He stood and stretched, as if his shoulders were stiff.

  Dempsey grinned gamely. "You gonna arrest them, Sheriff?"

  "Not tonight. They're not wanted for anything."

  "But what about breaking Angus's window?" Jessica suggested.

  He removed his hat and set it on the desk. "If I see the man who did it, I'll fine him. I got a good look at him."

  "Is that all you can do?" she asked.

  "For now. In the meantime, we'll just have to wait for them to try something else."

  Jessica sat forward. "Wait for it? You mean I’ll have to sit here in your office—like bait?"

  He cocked his head to one side. "Relax, darlin’. I'll do my best to get them to leave town." He stood up, placed his hat back on his head, and moved to the door with a swagger that made her want to jump his bones right then and there. "Dempsey, get Miss Delaney out of here. This is the first place they'll look."

  "Where should we go?" Dempsey asked.

  "Wait till the sun goes down, then take her to the boardinghouse, and ask for Wendy. Tell her I sent you, and that I need a favor. She’ll know what that means, and it’ll do till I get back."

  Jessica stood up and followed Wade out the back door. "Wait a minute,” she said, but he was already mounting his horse. "Those men are dangerous. You’ll be careful?"

  He wheeled Thunder around and spoke with hardnosed confidence. "Relax, Junebug. If anything happens to me, Dempsey will take care of you."

  That wasn't what she wanted to hear.

  “Stop calling me Junebug,” she said.

  His eyes glimmered with amusement. “What would you like me to call you?”

  “Jessica.”

  Thunder stomped impatiently and tried to turn away, but Wade wheeled him back around.

  “Jessica…” he said. “That’s a right pretty name.”

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t leave, however, and she could feel her body start to burn with desire as their eyes remained trained on each other.

  “If we’re getting cozy, maybe you should stop calling me Sheriff,” he suggested.

  She gave him a playful look. “What would you like me to call you?”

  He trotted closer until Thunder relaxed and snorted, then he leaned forward and crossed both wrists over the saddle horn. “Truman.”

  Jessica gazed up at those mesmerizing blue eyes while she stroked Thunder’s nose. “That’s a right pretty name.”

  “Not as pretty as yours.” He leaned back.

  A moment later, he galloped away, and Jessica stood in a besotted haze, listening to Thunder’s hoof beats until she couldn’t hear them anymore.

  No sense worrying, she tried to tell herself as she headed back inside. Truman was an expert gunman, and maybe he would come out of this unscathed, even if it turned into something serious.

  Better yet, maybe those dumb-ass outlaws would cower in fear and ride out of Dodge altogether.

  Sitting down at Truman's desk, she glanced up at the bullet holes in the wall and hoped that tonight everyone's bullets would stay locked inside their gun chambers – which was exactly where they belonged.

  Chapter Nine

  Jessica stood at a window in Wendy’s boardinghouse, watching and waiting, while Wendy slept peacefully on the bed.

  "What do you think is taking so long?" she whispered to Dempsey, who sat in a chair reading a dime novel in front of the unlit fireplace.

  "Don’t rightly know, Miss Delaney."

  "He said he'd be right back. Do you think anything could have gone wrong?"

  “Doubt it. The sheriff is a legend. I reckon he’ll be just fine.”

  Jessica recalled Wendy’s tale of how Truman had put a stop to the ruckus in the saloon that afternoon.

  Wendy seemed a bit smitten with him – just like everyone else in Dodge. They all seemed to regard him as the undisputed hero of the West.

  Jessica couldn’t deny feeling more than a little smitten herself. In fact, that particular word didn’t do justice to her passions—because she was ready to drag that crazy-hot sheriff right out of his saddle, rip off his shirt and gun belt, and take advantage of him in the worst possible way – in ways that would surely shock and scandalize the good old-fashioned folks of this city.

  Jessica, you incorrigible slut.

 
She chuckled to herself, then paced for a while on the narrow strip of carpet.

  All was quiet outside except for the distant sound of music from the saloon down the street and occasional laughter from drunken cowboys. Jessica sat down in the rocking chair and continued to wait.

  Startled by the whinny of a horse, she rose and moved to the open window, praying that Truman had returned. She poked her head out.

  "Thank God," she whispered, watching him dismount and tie Thunder to a hitching rail. “He’s back.”

  Dempsey closed his book.

  A few minutes later, Truman’s boots came tapping up the stairs. Jessica hurried out to meet him in the corridor.

  "What took you so long? I was worried."

  "You didn't have to wait up." He passed her without so much as a hat tip or hello. He entered Wendy's room, and Jessica followed him in.

  "I couldn’t sleep,” she replied. “There's a gang of outlaws trying to kill me, remember?"

  His eyes met hers. "You were perfectly safe here. Dempsey knows how to use his six-shooter.” He removed his hat and coat and hung them both on the bedpost.

  Wendy stirred and sat up. "Sheriff, you're back. What happened?"

  "They were just where you figured they'd be,” he said to her. “At the Triple T Ranch. We had a few polite words, and they promised to leave Dodge at sunrise."

  Jessica inhaled a deep breath of relief, but didn’t feel completely off the hook yet. "What will we do until then?"

  He turned to Dempsey. "Why don't you ride out there now and keep an eye on things? I want to make sure they leave town like they said they would."

  Dempsey stood. “Will do, Sheriff.” He pulled out his gun, opened the chamber to check the bullets, clicked it shut, and re-holstered it.

  "Stay low,” Truman said. “Don’t let them catch you spying."

  "I’ll be quiet like a mouse."

  After Dempsey left, Truman locked the door and sat down in the chair. Wendy settled back into bed and closed her eyes again.

  "You're going to stay?" Jessica asked him.

  "Yes, ma'am." He picked up Dempsey’s dime-novel and examined the cover. “Heroes of the Wild West.” He chuckled quietly, then opened it to the first page.