The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride

by Debra Cowan

  Ivy took the soft fabric, then moved between his legs. So close that the heat of her body teased him.

  She rolled the cloth into a tube and dunked the end in the milk then held it to the pup’s mouth. The animal lay listless, eyes dazed. Ivy rubbed the wet fabric lightly against Thunder’s lips, but she didn’t suck.

  Gideon tried, with the same result. He then stuck the tip of his pinkie finger in the liquid and put it to the pup’s mouth. A little tongue swiped against his skin.

  “There ya go,” he murmured, glad to see the animal was holding her own.

  He dipped his finger again and offered it to her. When she licked off the liquid, he continued to feed her slowly. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t concentrate fully on the young dog because Ivy was still standing between his legs.

  She might be dressed like a man, but she sure didn’t look like one. Or smell like one, either. Her skin was dewy from their earlier exertion, and her sweat smelled clean. Beneath that, he caught a hint of magnolia.

  Gideon wanted to close his thighs and draw her closer. If he leaned forward slightly, he could put his mouth on her velvety neck. Her delicate ear.

  She looked up. “You’re really good with the pup. You must’ve had a pet before.”

  “No.” He had tended wounded animals before—calves, horses, a crow with a broken wing at the prison.

  Gideon continued to feed the whelp drop by drop, but he was completely taken by the woman in front of him. She put a hum in his blood by doing nothing more than standing there.

  Ever since he had confessed to murder, Gideon had waited for revulsion to darken Ivy’s eyes. He searched her face for it now, but she seemed intent only on the dog.

  “Earlier, you said you had no family.”

  And that he’d killed a man. Was that where she was headed?

  “When did you lose them? In the war?”

  Because the question wasn’t what he expected, it took a second for him to answer. The war had taken so many, entire families in some cases, though not from Gideon. “Never had a family.”

  “You’re an orphan?”

  He nodded. Her brother was the closest thing to family Gideon had ever had.

  “Smith didn’t tell me that.”

  He figured there was a lot Smith hadn’t told his sister. As long as Ivy didn’t ask about their prison time, Gideon didn’t mind answering some questions. Although he wouldn’t talk about the man he’d killed, or that he’d done so because of Eleanor’s lies.

  Ivy was quiet for a moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Where did you grow up?”

  “In Kansas.” His gaze traced her features, the ivory satin of her skin.

  “Did you live with anyone?” At his frown, she clarified. “Did you have a home?”

  “When I was ten, a widow lady, Ruby Whitten, took me in, but she passed away after about two years and I was on my own again.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  Though she appeared genuinely interested, the anxiety squeezing his chest didn’t ease. If she were going to ask more about his crime, he wished she would get on with it. “I hired on at a ranch.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Twelve, but I looked older.”

  “You were bigger than other boys your age.” Her gaze traced slowly over his shoulders and arms, making his body go tight.

  Want tugged low in his belly, and he knew by her sudden flush that she felt it, too. He cleared his throat, wishing she would step out of the circle of his legs. “Yes.”

  Damn, he wanted to touch her. He refocused his attention on the small animal in his hand. The poor thing weighed about as much as a baby bird.

  “Did you fight in the war?”

  “Didn’t everyone?” Even seven years gone, the thought made him tired.

  “Sure seemed that way.” Sadness pulled at her features as she stroked the pup’s head. “Did you work at another ranch after the war?”

  He nodded. Hiring on with Eleanor’s daddy had been the beginning of his journey to hell.

  If she was going to ask so many questions, Gideon had some, too. “Did your husband fight?”

  She stilled for a heartbeat. If he hadn’t been so close, he would’ve missed her reaction.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Earlier, you said his family was from Chicago. How did the two of you meet?”

  “Before the war, he came to Mimosa Springs looking for land,” she said stiffly. “He wanted a place that wasn’t settled, so he looked farther east and decided on this area.”

  When her eyes hardened, Gideon knew it had to do with her past, not his. She stepped back. “Tomorrow, I’ll go to town and speak with the mayor about the dead horse.”

  That had sure been a quick change. Was it still too painful for Ivy to talk about her husband? The frantic tapping of her pulse in the hollow of her throat told Gideon the subject obviously vexed her.

  “I’ll see you at supper.” She turned and walked out the door.

  Gideon watched her go, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts. Whenever she was around, his brain seemed to engage a second too late. He was here to protect her, and that was all. Instead, he had an insane urge to hold her. To comfort her.

  Hell. Not getting drawn in by her was going to be more difficult than he’d thought.

  * * *

  Why had she told him anything about Tom? She didn’t like talking about her dead husband, ever.

  After breakfast the next morning, Ivy and Gideon set off for town. They had left the pup in her crate, inside the house. The wagon bumped along the rutted road now dried out from the rain. The wooden seat creaking, she stared blankly at the grass and trees they passed.

  She wanted to believe her guard had been down last night because of Tug, and maybe that was part of it, but she also knew it had to do with Gideon. For those moments in the barn watching him feed the pup, Ivy had been aware of only him.

  No man had ever looked at her like that, as if his next breath depended on her. Which explained why she’d had trouble falling asleep. That and the times she’d gone to the window, wondering if more of her animals were in danger, if someone was out there watching her house.

  She smoothed her navy-and-white-striped skirts, and settled her navy reticule in her lap.

  Maybe Gideon’s being here was good. Maybe a man of his size could discourage the low-down snake who was making trouble for her. Though she didn’t like the thought of needing a man for any reason, Ivy couldn’t deny that he’d been only help so far.

  Neither of them spoke much during the drive to Paladin. The scents of grass and dirt and clean air drifted around them. The occasional purple flower dotted the green alfalfa fields that spread as far as the eye could see on either side. Once, a redbird swooped over the wagon road.

  She was uncommonly aware of the man beside her. More aware than she’d been of any man since Tom’s death. As much as she tried, she couldn’t ignore the granite-hard line of his thigh against hers, the leashed power in his massive frame, the large callused hands that worked the reins so easily. Those same work-roughened hands had handled the pup as gently as she would have.

  She sneaked a glance at him. He smelled of leather and soap, and she could see a tuft of dark hair in the open V of his homespun work shirt.

  Ivy didn’t want to notice any of those things about Gideon Black, yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. Feeling suddenly hot, she fiddled with the button at the neck of her white bodice. She might be attracted to him, but the first time he showed his true colors—and he eventually would—her interest would fade.

  The day was clear and bright, and they arrived in Paladin before noon. Laid out in a quasi-horseshoe shape with the church at its apex, the small town was bustling as people made their way around town or across t
he wide main street. At the blacksmith’s shop attached to the back side of the livery, a hammer rang against metal.

  Besides the mercantile, smithy, bank and jail, Paladin now boasted a telegraph office, a gristmill, a hotel and a sawmill. Nearby, both Little River and Kiamichi River provided water for the town and surrounding farms. Tom wouldn’t have liked how the town had grown, how many people had moved here. She’d learned the hard way that wide-open space wasn’t the only reason he had wanted away from her family.

  She and Gideon braked the wagon in front of the livery and walked around the building. Just outside of town and a few yards away was Mayor Jumper’s lumber company. Behind the main office, saws whined and boards cracked; sawdust and wood chips shot into the air. Ivy felt more urgency to go to the bank for a loan to restock her horses and poultry, but she preferred to get her conversation with the mayor out of the way first. She didn’t look forward to telling Leo about his dead horse.

  She and Gideon stepped inside the lumber company’s small, neatly kept office. Outfitted with a standing desk as well as a small corner desk and chair along the back wall, the space was spotless. A couple of ledger books were stacked neatly across the top of the taller desk and just behind it squatted a large safe.

  Leo Jumper, dressed in his usual three-piece suit, moved out from behind his work area. He stopped in front of her, using a cane with an intricately carved wooden head. There was nothing wrong with his legs; he carried the expensive walking stick to show off his wealth. The sunlight streaming through the windows on either side of the door turned his neatly trimmed hair a fiery-red.

  “Mrs. Powell, how are you today?”

  “Just fine.” Palms clammy, she introduced Gideon.

  “Ah, yes, Conrad told me you had a young man.”

  Ivy bet that wasn’t all the stage driver had said. She didn’t bother correcting Leo.

  The mayor extended his free hand to Gideon. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

  She noticed that her guest’s hand nearly swallowed the older man’s. Curiosity burned in Jumper’s whiskey-colored eyes as they went from her to the rugged cowboy, but Ivy had no intention of inviting questions.

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Powell?”

  “I have some bad news.” Tension stretched across her shoulders as she explained about finding the dead mare.

  His mouth tightened, his gaze narrowing. “Killed with a knife?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “Was the horse roaming?” Jumper’s tone was accusatory. “Wasn’t it in the corral?”

  “She was turned out to pasture with the others.”

  “This is going to cost me money, Mrs. Powell.”

  “Yes, sir.” As it would her. She was counting on the bank loan to help her get by. “And I’m sorry about that.”

  Before she could ask if he planned to nullify their contract, the mayor said, “I won’t be boarding more animals at your place. I think the stage line will agree with me.”

  Well, that answered that. “What would you like to do with the other horses?”

  “Until I can move them, you should take better care and put them up at night. At least the ones that belong to the stage line.”

  “I will,” she said stiffly, inwardly cursing whoever had harmed the bay and Tug.

  Beside her, Gideon stared unblinking at the other man. Though Ivy didn’t feel threatened by the mayor, she was glad she wasn’t facing him alone.

  “I’m on my way out of town so it will be a few days before I can arrange to move the others,” Leo said.

  “Very well. I’ve read the contract and know the loss of the animal voids it, but I can offer the use of my horses, free of charge, until I’m able to replace the one that was killed. That way, the stage can continue to run.”

  Jumper pursed his lips, irritation making his freckled features even more ruddy. “Very well. After I return from my trip, we’ll finish this business.”

  She nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. The loss of income would severely hamper her ability to operate the stage stand, but a bank loan would help a great deal.

  The older man exhaled loudly. “I’ll stop on my way out and report this to Sheriff Farrell.”

  “I’m planning to do that, too,” Ivy said.

  “No sense in both of us going.” His gaze narrowed. “Tell Farrell I’ll stop by when I return.”

  “I will. And again, I’m sorry, Mayor.”

  He nodded, pulling out a gold pocket watch and checking the time.

  Ivy took the hint and left with Gideon. As they made their way back into town, she blew out a breath. “I’m glad that’s over.”

  “Did it go the way you expected?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Irritation flared at the mayor’s condescending attitude. “I don’t expect special treatment, but this is the first problem to arise in the five years since the contract began. You’d think he might take that into account.”

  “Not big on second chances, is he?” Gideon’s voice hardened.

  “No, although I guess he can afford to be less than forgiving.”

  At Gideon’s questioning look, she explained. “Besides the lumber company, he owns a stake in a couple of other businesses and the bank. I need to stop there, too.”

  “Since your contract with the mayor is likely ended, could you strike a deal with the stage company on your own?”

  “Yes, I could.” Smiling, she stopped abruptly in front of the livery’s open doorway. “I should’ve thought of it myself. Thank you, Mr. Black.”

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured.

  They continued walking and Ivy halted at the next building, a pine structure with two wide steps leading up to its landing. A sign over the door read Jail, Paladin, Indian Territory.

  “I need to have a word with Sheriff Farrell.”

  “I’ll wait for you out here. No hurry.”

  Ah, yes, he probably had an aversion to cell bars. As she turned to go in, he said, “Miss Ivy?”

  The low, deep way he spoke her name sent a shiver through her. Intent on trying to dismiss the sensation, she almost didn’t hear his question.

  “Is the sheriff someone you trust?”

  “Yes, why?” She shifted to face him. Even though she stood on the second step, she still had to tilt her head back a bit to meet his gaze.

  He rested a hand on the wooden stair railing. “If you haven’t told him everything that’s going on at your farm, you should. Especially now that two of your animals have been killed.”

  She agreed. “Josh knows some of it, and I’ll tell him the rest. Did you check the woods this morning?”

  “Yes. The branch was unbroken. Didn’t look as if it had been touched at all.”

  “Good.” She opened the door. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  She returned shortly. “Josh is out at a nearby ranch handling a dispute. I left a message for him to come out to the farm if I don’t stop back by today.”

  Deputy McCain, who was watching the jail in the sheriff’s absence, had asked about Ivy’s “young man.” Conrad could never be accused of keeping his mouth shut.

  Pausing on the bottom step, she glanced across the street at the bank. “I was planning to see Mr. Rowland at the bank next, but I think I’ll send a wire to the stage line manager in Boggy Depot first. Butterfield Overland no longer uses our line for their mail, but Territorial Stage Company keeps a regular schedule for passengers. There are quite a few stage stops just like mine across the Choctaw lands. Maybe I’ll hear right back and perhaps have a new contract.”

  Gideon’s attention moved to the imposing redbrick building.

  “You don’t have to go with me t
o the bank if you’d rather visit the mercantile or somewhere else,” Ivy said.

  “I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”

  For a moment, she’d almost forgotten he was here to protect her. “All right.”

  Since the telegraph office sat next door to the jail, they were shortly inside. In the morning sunlight, her brother’s friend cast a tall, intimidating shadow. As Ivy’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Gideon made a low noise in his throat.

  She followed his gaze. The counters and floor were covered with scraps of brown paper and newspaper. Except for the small patch on the desk where the telegraph machine sat, envelopes and letters covered every inch of the surface. No wonder she hadn’t received Smith’s wire. It might never be found in this chaos.

  Elmer Wright stood in the far corner, pawing through a box. Full of more letters and telegrams!

  The barrel-shaped man squinted through the haze of light and dust. “What can I do for you, Miss Ivy?”

  “I’d like to send a telegram to the stage line manager in Boggy Depot, and I’m also looking for a recent wire from my brother.”

  The older man hobbled around a desk and came toward her. “Who’s your young man?”

  Why did everyone assume she and Gideon were a couple? “He’s not my— This is Gideon Black, a friend of my brother’s.”

  Gideon shook the man’s hand as she studied the cluttered space. “It looks as if you might have trouble locating the message from Smith.”

  “No, no.” Elmer shoved a hand through his thick gray-streaked hair, making it stand on end. He looked around helplessly. “It just might take me a while. I can’t seem to find my spectacles.”

  “These spectacles?” Smiling, Ivy picked up a pair of glasses in plain view on the counter.

  Giving her a sheepish look, he slid the glasses on and began digging through the clutter on the counter. He thumbed through a stack of correspondence, muttering.

  Gideon stood quietly by, but Ivy moved about impatiently. “You should get some help in here, Elmer.”

  “Yes, yes. The sheriff’s brother starts today after his schoolin’.”

  “That’s good.” Fifteen-year-old Coy Farrell was dependable and smart. And surely more organized than this.