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The dog looked at Warren, bared his teeth, then sprinted to a grove of trees standing two hundred yards from the house. There, he sat and waited.

      
"Is he gone?" Adam asked anxiously. The dog usually obeyed him but if he sensed too much danger, he wasn't sure what Red would do.

      
"Yes, and for his sake he had better stay gone too," Warren replied curtly. "Now, I’m going to give you an order. When I open this door, stand clear until I tell you to come out. A fair warning: if I see or hear you make a wrong move, I’ll put a bullet in your head. Did I make myself clear?"

      
"Very clear!" he shouted through the door, then added softly, a touch of humor in his voice, "Making themselves clear must be an inherited family trait." Adam realized he could have put an end to this farce simply by shouting his identity to Warren, but that would have denied him the pleasure of seeing the expression on that little heathen's face when she learned he had been telling the truth.

      
A few moments later, he heard the bar being lifted from across the door, then there was a sudden burst of light when the door was opened.

      
Warren, standing out of harm's way, spoke harshly, "Now I want you to walk very slowly up those steps with your hands clasped firmly around the back of your head."

      
"All right, Warren, but stand easy. I'm coming out. I also know how good you are with that rifle, so I'm not about to do anything foolish."

      
A puzzled expression spread slowly across Warren's face. Now that he'd heard the man speak m a normal tone of voice and not just a muffled shout through a heavy door, it sounded familiar—extremely familiar.

      
Adam started walking up the steps. Although slightly blinded by the bright sunlight after being accustomed to the muted light in the cellar, he could distinguish a shadowy figure standing behind the screen door. An idea began forming in his mind. In the meantime, Warren's eyes had widened with astonishment.

      
When Adam reached the top step, he winked, then twisted his mouth into a sneer and taunted Warren, "You talk mighty brave when you have the upper hand."

      
Although Warren recognized Adam instantly, he was confused. Some sort of terrible mistake had been made. Adam was no cattle thief, nor was he a murderer. Where had Blair gotten those crazy ideas? He started to ask her, but Adam stopped him with a challenge that meant something only to them.

      
"Remember when we first met in Fort Smith about two years ago? I still think you are a dirty, low-down polecat, and I still can beat you to the draw."

      
A wide grin spread across Warren's face when he realized what Adam wanted to do. "Hell, if I am!" he countered. "And you just got lucky that time at Fort Smith. I've been practicing, I can beat you now."

      
"Prove it."

      
Warren lowered the rifle to the ground, splayed his legs and positioned his hands as if to ready himself for a fast draw. Adam did the same.

      
"Tillie, what on earth is going on out there?" Blair asked, her voice so low it barely broke the heavy silence that had descended over them.

      
"Ah don't know, Missy. Ah surely don't," the woman replied uneasily. "It's my guess they've taken leave of their senses. 'Cause unless Ah'm mistaken, they are 'bout to have a shoot-out! But how can they? They don't even have guns!"

      
Tension hung over the men like a cloying mist. They stared at each other, but kept their hands poised over invisible gun holsters as though their lives depended on it. Each waited for the other to draw first. Then, simultaneously, they made a play for their invisible guns. Sounds of make-believe gunfire filled the air.

      
The scene seemed so realistic to Blair, she almost expected to see either Warren, or the stranger, fall wounded to the ground. All she could do was stare at them uncomprehendingly when they began laughing and greeting each other like long-lost friends. It was then that she knew the man had been telling the truth, and with that knowledge came a maelstrom of emotions.

 

 

 

 

      
Chapter 7

 

      
Blair did not know what to do. Obviously from their reaction, this Adam Cahill and Warren were very good friends; and that being the case, he must be precisely who and what he claimed to be. That meant she owed the man an apology, yet . . . that idea was not appealing. Not because she was too stubborn to admit her dreadful mistake. It was the man's arrogance and insolent manner that made her reluctant to admit she had been wrong. Blair sighed heavily. Nevertheless, an apology was in order.

      
Suddenly her face went grim. Regardless of their pleasant meeting, when Warren learned the truth about her coming home, he would be furious, and now that she had inadvertently mistreated his friend, it would make him even more angry. Unless ... she could do something to prevent it. A mischievous gleam came into her eyes. Since they were so good at playing games, maybe she could play one of her own.

      
Before she could change her mind, Blair slammed out the back door and marched over to the men. Rolling her eyes at their hearty laughter, she crossed her arms and muttered sarcastically, "I wish someone would tell me what is so amusing, perhaps I would laugh, too. Why, I’ve never seen two grown men behave so foolishly!"

      
Still laughing, Warren took Blair by her arm. "That bit of tomfoolery stems from the time we first met. There were two little boys playing gunfighters in the street and when it started getting out of hand . . ."He shook his head. "It's a long story and not that important. Come on, I want you to meet a good friend of mine. Blair, this is Deputy Marshal Adam Cahill. Adam, my little sister, Blair." His mouth twitched with amusement at the thought of such a tiny snip of a girl taking a man like Adam Cahill from behind. He could barely conceal the hilarity of it all when he added in a mocking tone, "But then, I understand you have already met."

      
Blair could feel herself blushing fiercely. She was painfully conscious of the fact that the devastatingly handsome man's eyes raked over her with a distressing boldness. Although her heart suddenly started pounding rapidly, Blair forced a demure smile and acknowledged the introduction without speaking.

      
Adam had difficulty believing this beguiling young woman was the same half-civilized little savage who had marched him to the ranch at gun point the previous evening. His fascinated gaze narrowed imperceptibly as it meandered over her form from head to toe. In his mind's eye he remembered how her breasts strained against her blouse, how her slightly rounded hips had stretched the trouser fabric to the bursting point. There was an all-encompassing stirring of his senses, and he was none too dismayed to realize the rampant passion flaring to life was more powerful than any he had ever experienced before. What the devil was there about the girl that prompted such a reaction, he wondered.

      
Then, a dark scowl turned the corners of his mouth downward as he remembered this girl was his friend's sister!

      
Frustrated, Adam deliberately glowered at her and replied with biting sarcasm, "Yes, I had that pleasure yesterday. And while I was locked up in that cold, musty cellar last night, I also had plenty of time to realize how fortunate I was to meet her."

      
Blair lifted her chin and met his icy gaze straight on. She had intended to offer him a sincere apology, but since he was going to behave so obnoxiously about a silly misunderstanding, an apology would be the last thing he ever got from her. "Mr. Cahill, I do not blame you for being slightly upset ..."

      
"That, young lady, is putting it mildly."

      
Blair continued as though she had never been interrupted, ". . . Although, I do find your reaction difficult to understand." She deliberately spoke as primly and properly as she knew how. "You should be mature enough to realize I was merely protecting our property against what I believed to be a dangerous intruder. I do regret any inconvenience I may have caused, but in all sincerity, I feel my actions were justified." Dismissing him without a backward glance, she turned to her brother. "Warren, Tillie should have the food prepared by now. I will instruct her to set an extra place for your friend." With as much feigned regality as she dared, she turned and walked to the house, acutely aware of the eyes that followed her.

      
Completely perplexed, Adam watched her disappear into the house, then he looked at Warren who had the same bewildered expression on his face. "What in the hell is she?" he finally asked. "A chameleon? Yesterday when she had me in her rifle sight, she was wearing men's breeches, her hair was braided with parts of it sticking out, there was a smudge of dirt across her face, and she talked like she had never seen the inside of a schoolhouse. And today, well . . . hell, you heard her the same as I did." Suddenly, he eyed Warren suspiciously. "You don’t have two sisters, do you?"

      
Warren's teeth worried with his bottom lip. "No, just one," he drawled slowly.

      
"Does she always behave this strange?"

      
He shrugged, obviously still confused. "I really can't say. This is the first time I’ve seen her in four years."

      
"Four years?"

      
"She's been attending a school back East," he explained. "I hated to send her away, but I had to do something. Except for the housekeeper, Blair was not receiving any female guidance and with her being raised by four brothers and a grandfather, she was getting so wild I couldn't do anything with her. From your description of her yesterday, apparently the schoolmistress didn't do much either." Chortling, he scratched his head. "Well, I suppose she learned how to be a prissy snob, and, to be honest, I think I prefer the old Blair better." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what she's up to, but I'd be willing to bet the girl you saw yesterday or the prissy little tart we just saw is not the real Blair. One thing is certain, though. You can bet she's up to something. Although she gave a good reason for coming home so suddenly, I can't help but feel there is more to it than what she said. But, she might have acted that way because she's embarrassed about misjudging you, and just too damn stubborn to admit it. I just don't know. . . ."

      
"Maybe you're right. What galled me about yesterday though, is that she enjoyed herself so much at my expense."

      
"I understand how you feel and don't blame you a bit. If it was me, Td probably want to turn her over my knee. "

      
Grinning unabashedly, Adam said, "That same thought occurred to me several times." He reached for a cheroot. "I suppose this may sound strange, but I’m really not that angry. Humiliated, yes. The fact that a little dirty-faced girl got the drop on me is something I wouldn't want too many people to know. Then, too, you know as well as I do, if one of your brothers or one of your hands had brought me in ... we probably wouldn't even have given it a second thought."

      
"You're right, we wouldn't have. It grates on a man's pride when a woman gets the best of him. That's why I'm so puzzled about her behavior. It wouldn't surprise me if the little weasel is trying to outsmart the wise old fox."

      
Adam understood his meaning. A genuine smile toyed with his lips. "Think so?"

      
"I am almost positive. As I said before, she's been away for several years, but I doubt if she has changed all that much. I figure she's either up to something or trying to hide something from me. I'll find out, though. Later, if I ask a few misleading or strange questions, if necessary, just go along with me, all right?"

      
"With pleasure, especially if it means getting a little revenge!" Adam stated emphatically.

      
Warren clasped his hand on Adam's shoulder. "Before you tell me the real purpose behind your visit to these parts, which I'm sure is very important because I've been trying to get you out here for a long time now without any success, I'd like to ask you a question."

      
"What's that?"

      
He looked at Adam's bare feet and, forcing his voice to sound lighthearted, he asked, "Can't you talk Judge Parker into paying you enough to buy yourself a pair of boots? " Even though he had spoken in a jesting manner, he knew his friend's feet had to be causing him considerable pain. They were blistered, bloody, and raw. His expression grew somber. "Damn, man, what happened to them?"

      
Adam managed to shrug and say offhandedly, "Well, I suppose in an indirect way, they are the reason I got myself in this mess." He glanced at the house when his stomach grumbled. "If memory serves me correctly, Little Miss High and Mighty mentioned something about food. You know me, I’m not the least bit bashful when it comes to eating. Show me to the wash shed and I’ll fill you in on all of the details while we wash up."

 

 

 

 

 

      
Blair hurried to the kitchen hutch and removed another place setting for the table. She set the napkin, plate, silverware, cup and saucer on the table, stepped back then rearranged it several more times before she was satisfied that it looked just right. Tillie, who stood in front of the stove kept watching her expectantly, as if waiting for an explanation.

      
"Well? Ah'm waiting! Are you going to tell me what went on out there or not?"

      
"We're having a guest for dinner—or is it breakfast?" Blair asked, glancing at the food Tillie was spooning from the skillets.

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