The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride (6 page)

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 to 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.

“Aha, here it is.” The older man smiled triumphantly and handed her the telegram.

It was indeed from Smith, and a quick glance confirmed everything Gideon had said upon his arrival. Though having the message in hand didn’t much matter now that her brother’s friend was already here, Ivy was glad to have it anyway.

“Now.” Elmer cleared a stack of paper from atop the telegraph machine. “Let me find the information for the stage line office.”

Ivy grimaced. “Are you sure you have it?”

“Yes, yes.” He set aside a scribbled note and looked up, his blue eyes troubled. “I can do this, Miss Ivy. It don’t matter what the mayor says. I can still run this telegraph office.”

Though Ivy wasn’t sure of that, she could see it meant a great deal to Elmer. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but this was too important to mess up. What if he couldn’t even get her message to the right place?

“It’s okay, Elmer. I can just write a letter.”

“No, no.” His voice cracked.

Gideon leaned close. “Are you worried he can’t tap out the right message?”

“Yes,” she said under her breath.

“Let him do it. I learned Morse code during the war. I can tell if it’s right or not.”

She looked up at him in surprise, as much because of his knowledge as because of his kindness to the older man.

“Here it is!” the telegraph operator exclaimed.

“Okay.” She leaned toward Elmer. “This is what I need to say.”

Minutes later, Ivy and Gideon stepped outside and began walking to the bank.

Despite her disappointment that she hadn’t received a quick response from the stage company, she tried not to dwell on it. She glanced at Gideon. “I can’t believe Elmer didn’t make a single mistake.”

“He’s probably done it for so long that he could tap those letters out blind.”

They crossed the street and angled past Howe’s Mercantile. As they neared the bank, Ivy spotted Conrad coming out of the saloon down the street.

When he started in her direction, she inwardly groaned. She had neither the time nor patience to deal with him today.

Gideon touched her elbow, sending a spark of heat up her arm. He tipped his head, showing that he had also spotted the stage driver.

Blocking her body with his, he opened the bank’s tall front door for her. “I’ll be right here. Take as long as you need.”

Peeking around his broad frame, she saw Conrad turn and go in the opposite direction. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his blue eyes warm on her face.

The look had her going soft inside. Aaargh! Flustered, she went through the door. The spacious interior boasted gray slate floors and stone walls. Three teller’s cages, constructed of gold-trimmed wrought iron, greeted visitors. Each space had a desk, and on the wall behind was a wide vault door.

She approached the manager’s office, her stomach knotting. She’d never asked for a loan. She’d also never been in this situation before.

A few minutes later, she was sitting in front of tall, lanky Titus Rowland’s desk. Her spine went rigid. “What do you mean, you can’t loan money to a single woman?”

“It’s bank policy, Ivy.”

“But...but you know me.” She curled and uncurled her reticule strings, her gaze falling on the tintype of Titus and his late wife, Lolly, on the wall behind him. “You’ve known me for years.”

“I’m sorry.” Sincere regret stamped his homely features.

“I was married longer than I’ve been a widow. Why should I be denied help just because I lost my husband?”

The gangly man shifted uncomfortably. “This isn’t my decision in the end.”

“I plan to use my farm as collateral, and I’m waiting to hear if I have a new contract with the stage line. That has to count for something.” A greasy knot formed in her stomach. She couldn’t just give up. “I see no reason why you can’t help me.”

Especially since she had put more sweat and effort into the stage stand than Tom ever had. Jittery with anxiety, she forced herself to remain seated, though she scooted to the edge of the leather chair. “I’ll lose the business altogether and maybe my farm, too, if I don’t get this loan. Please, Titus.”

His shrewd gray eyes softened. “You’ve sure given a lot to make a go of it.”

“And I’ll continue to work hard. I
will
pay back the money. You know I will.”

“I’ll talk to the other members of the committee and try to convince them to waive the policy.”

Ivy jumped up and snagged his hand, squeezing it. “Thank you, Titus. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. What if I can’t change their minds?”

“You will. And you won’t regret helping me. I promise.”

His smile transformed his gaunt features. “It will be a few days, but I’ll let you know.”

He walked her out of his office and across the slate floor, opening the front door for her.

She patted his bony arm. “Thank you again, Titus.”

He lifted a hand in farewell as she stepped outside. Feeling more optimistic than she had since all the trouble at the farm had begun, she joined Gideon at the bottom of the stone steps.

The slow smile he gave her sent a tingle to her toes and made her skin prickle with awareness.

“You look like you got good news,” he said.

“Not yet, but I think I will.” As they started to the livery for the wagon, she explained what had happened with Titus.

“Sounds promising.”

“Yes, I’m encouraged. Thank you again for that idea about contracting with the stage company on my own. Titus seemed impressed.”

“I’m glad if I helped.”

He had, she realized. In more ways than just this.

He did chores for no wages, protected her. Not only had he made sure her wire to the stage company was correct, he’d also managed to keep Conrad from bothering her. For that alone, she could kiss the man.

The thought jolted her, and she immediately pushed it away. She didn’t want that with him. Well, maybe she did, just a tad, but she knew better than to let herself be tempted by the idea. It might lead to being trapped in another situation that would be difficult to escape.

After finding Tug, it had been easy to lean on Gideon. Too easy. She appreciated all that her brother’s friend had done since arriving, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—depend on a man ever again. She’d learned that the hard way from her late husband.

Chapter Four

S
mith’s sister had grit. That had been impressed upon Gideon again yesterday in town. Ivy had lost a horse, her beloved dog and possibly her contract with the mayor. Rather than bellyaching, she had faced those problems head-on and tried to find a solution to what she could.

Had she become that tough and independent after the death of her husband? Or had she always been that way? Gideon didn’t find a lot to admire in most women. Of course, that could be because he refused to share space with them longer than it took to learn their names. Ivy was different. Because of his promise to her brother, Gideon had already spent more time with her than he ever had spent with a woman, and that was only going to continue.

By midmorning the next day, both he and Ivy were busy with chores. Gideon had replaced two rotten slats on the back side of the corral. Now he stood at the chicken house, testing the sturdy latch he had just installed.

The pup chased a bit of fuzz blowing from a dandelion, running in a dizzying circle before plopping down in the grass and looking up at Gideon with dazed eyes. He grinned. This afternoon, he planned to whitewash the fence that encircled the house, but right now he wanted to check the woods in front of the place. He hadn’t been out there since yesterday morning.

He rounded the barn, the pup trotting in his footsteps. She stopped every foot or so to sniff another piece of grass or bat at a cricket. Suddenly, Thunder’s ears pricked up. She gave an excited yelp and changed direction, racing toward the barn.

Curious, Gideon angled that way, too. The pup yipped again, and Gideon stopped in the barn doorway just as Ivy bent to scoop up the animal.

With a soft laugh, she managed to keep Thunder from licking her face.

Now that Gideon’s eyes had adjusted to the dimmer light, he could see a large basket of laundry sitting on his bunk. Ivy spotted him then.

“Hello.” She didn’t quite meet his eyes. Putting the pup down, she reached back and gripped the edge of the basket. “Today is laundry day. Is there anything you want washed?”

“I can do it.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Black. You’re not causing me extra work.”

That was only one reason he wasn’t interested.

She laid a hand on the mound of clothes swelling over the basket’s top. “A pair of your trousers are in here and two of your shirts. If you give me the one you have on, I’ll wash it.”

No way in hell was he taking off his shirt in front of her. “I’m wearin’ it.”

Her gaze dropped to his chest, lingered as though she could see beneath the garment. Damn good thing she couldn’t.

“You could work without—”

“I’ve finished the latch on the henhouse door.” He tried to keep his tone level. She didn’t really know what she was asking of him. He hoped she would just leave it be. “I’m headed to the woods.”

After a pause, she asked, “To see if the branch has been disturbed?”

He nodded.

“I hope you find it hasn’t.”

“Me, too.” As he turned to walk out, he noticed the pup chewing at the hem of Ivy’s gray day dress.

She looked down then, too, and bent to tug the fabric from Thunder’s sharp teeth while scolding the animal in the least threatening tone Gideon had ever heard. It made him smile. He was still smiling when he reached the line of trees.

Breathing in the scent of pine, he wove his way around trees, pushed aside a clump of bush then another. He slowed as he neared the bois d’arc tree, his gaze dropping to the ground. The branch was broken!

Moving carefully, Gideon knelt and studied the boot print between what was now two pieces of twig.

Someone had been here since yesterday. What had they seen? How long had they stayed? Who the hell was it? From the shape and length of the boot and the depth of the imprint, he judged the visitor had been a man.

After pocketing the broken limb, he arranged another slender branch in the same spot and anchored it with a rock on either end. He headed for the house to show Ivy the halved branch. He was careful to watch where he stepped this time, searching for matching boot prints or other signs of a trespasser.

Between the woods and the house, the only identifiable prints he found were his own. He passed through the front gate and continued down the side of the house. A cloud of smoke drifted from the backyard.

The acrid smell of burning wood and the visible side of a black kettle confirmed Ivy was doing laundry. Just as he reached the corner of the house, the back door squeaked open then clattered shut.

“Miss Ivy?”

She glanced over as he drew even with her at the edge of the porch. Struggling to balance the overly full basket of clothes, she angled her body so she could see to step from the stoop.

“Here, let me help you.” Gideon moved toward her, glancing down when he saw something in the thick grass. Something heavy. Iron.

Moving on pure instinct, he leaped over the object and lunged for Ivy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, grabbing a porch column to keep from falling.

Her breath whooshed out. The basket and laundry flew into the air.

Gideon’s heel hit something hard, and there was a loud metal snap, sharp and startling in the quietness. Holding her tight, he got his legs under him and turned.

It was a trap. Someone had set an animal trap.

Ivy pushed at the arm he had locked around her waist. “You scared the daylights out of me! What are you doing?”

He loosened his hold a bit, angling her toward the spot where she’d stood.

The instant she caught sight of the snare and its wicked teeth, she stilled immediately. Her voice came out in a choked whisper. “Is that a trap?”

“Yes.”

“Someone put that there on purpose.”

“Yes.” The device had been arranged just so in the grass and the spring set.

If Ivy hadn’t shifted to one side so she could see to step down onto the ground, Gideon probably wouldn’t have glimpsed the object. A slick, greasy knot lodged in his gut.

She went limp as she made a sound like a sob. He started to put her on her feet, but she turned full into him, her arms latching around his neck.

Automatically, his arms wrapped around her. Trembling, she clutched him so tightly he felt her touch clear to his heart. That thing could’ve taken off her foot at her dainty ankle or mangled it beyond repair.

His chest felt strangely weak. Though glad she had escaped the trap, his relief edged quickly into a seething anger.

Ivy’s heart was pounding so hard, he could hear it. Or maybe that was his. Her braid bumped the back of his hand. Beneath his touch, he felt the lithe tautness of her waist, the delicate line of her back. She buried her face in his neck. He felt like burying his face in her neck, too.

They stood like that for a long time. As he struggled to leash his fury, his pulse gradually slowed. The stinging smell of lye soap and woodsmoke drifted around them, but it was the subtle scent of her skin that settled him.

She wasn’t hurt. She was all right.

“Gideon?” she breathed shakily. She lifted her head and stared at him with those midnight eyes.

What he saw there nearly made him swallow his teeth. No woman had ever looked at him this way—as if she had complete faith in him. As if she
needed
him.

No. Hell, no. Nothing good could come from that.

He slowly lowered her to the ground, clenching his jaw at the slide of her body all the way down his front.

She gripped his biceps and gave a wobbly laugh. “Give me a minute. I don’t think my legs will hold me yet.”

He didn’t want to let go at all. Her breasts were full and soft against him, her magnolia scent teasing. Involuntarily, he smoothed an unsteady hand down her hair.

Her still-rapid breath brushed his chin. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He wanted to taste her. Even though his mind was fuzzy with relief and lust, he knew kissing her would be a mistake.

The sudden wariness in her eyes snapped him out of the moment. He stepped back, releasing her.

She wiped her hands down her skirts then wrapped her arms around herself.

Her beautiful features were chalk-white, her expression raw, vulnerable, just like when they’d found her dog. Gideon almost reached out to touch her again, but stopped himself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, thanks to you.” Her color returned slowly as she blanked her face. She seemed completely composed.

Did nothing put her off stride? Wasn’t she angry? The attempt to harm her blistered him up. He knew she’d been rattled; she’d trembled so hard against him he’d thought she might shatter.

She stared across the yard for long seconds then moved jerkily toward the overturned basket and righted it.

He fought to rein in his temper. “I’ll help you gather up the laundry. Then I’ll take care of the trap.”

“All right— Oh, Thunder!”

“She’s probably fine, but I’ll make sure.”

“I’m glad she didn’t follow me from the barn.”

Gideon began to pick up sheets and shirts.

She glanced at him. “Were you looking for me earlier?”

His hands closed over a delicate nightgown, and he stared down at it for a moment. An image of her in the linen garment flashed through his brain. Desire tangled with the anger and relief still working through him.

“Gideon? Did you want me for something?”

He damn sure did, but he knew that wasn’t what she meant. Reaching into his back trouser pocket, he pulled out the twigs. “Uh, yeah. I was coming from the woods to tell you the branch had been broken.”

“You checked yesterday and the stick was undisturbed. It had to have been snapped last night.”

He nodded.

“Whoever was in the woods is likely who set that trap.”

The device had been placed in a spot that Ivy frequented. He saw when she put it together.

“They set that trap for me,” she breathed out in horrified realization.

“That’s what I think, too.”

“Oh.” The bit of color she’d regained disappeared, and her fingers curled so tightly on the lip of the basket that her knuckles turned white.

She looked wobbly. He reached out as if to steady her, but stopped when she drew back. “I’m all right.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” She glanced back at the heavy iron snare. “Thank goodness you saw that thing. If I’d stepped on it—”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” Her gaze met his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was no denying that someone was out for her, and they’d gotten closer to her than they should have. Gideon wouldn’t let that happen again.

The anger he felt at her near injury didn’t surprise him, but the sudden unfamiliar tide of possessiveness that welled inside him did. He didn’t understand it. Ivy didn’t belong to him; he didn’t want her to. But the desire he’d been reining in rose to the surface.

Damn, he wanted her. Even more than he remembered wanting Eleanor.

The memory sobered him. He’d been blinded by his feelings before, and he wouldn’t make that mistake again. He was here to protect Ivy, and that was all.

* * *

She was fine. Thanks to Gideon, Ivy didn’t have even a scratch. Still, her nerves twitched at every noise, and it seemed as though just a hiccup might make her shatter.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Someone meant to do her harm. Who? Why? Did they want to kill her? Ruin her business? From the poems to the creepily detailed drawings, everything had grown more threatening. The dead animals, now a vicious trap.

With a shudder, she pushed the thoughts away. She needed to stay busy. Not only to keep from losing her composure, but also to keep her mind off how she’d wanted to give herself over to Gideon when he had wrapped her in his arms. She’d felt safe and protected, and it vexed her. She didn’t need a man for that or anything else.

An hour after her close call, Ivy was doing laundry. She had washed the bedding in the kettle kept hot by the fire beneath then rinsed everything in the big pot full of cold water. She focused only on the moment—the warmth of the sun on her neck, wringing water from the sheets.

Walking over to the clothesline that stretched between two posts a few yards away, she hefted the wet bulk of the linens. Tossing the heavy weight over the end of the line, she reached for the sheet on top.

“Let me help you.”

At the sound of Gideon’s voice right behind her, she jumped. Her heart gave a painful kick.

“Sorry.” He ducked under the line to the other side. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It doesn’t take much,” she said wryly.

Thunder bounded up to her, and Ivy bent to scratch behind the pup’s ears.

Studying her, Gideon draped the sheet over the line. “Are you okay? From before, I mean.”

“Yes.” She lifted another piece of bedding. “I stripped your bunk, too.”

He nodded, taking the linen from her and arranging it beside the other piece. “I hung that trap on the wall in the barn. Won’t hurt anybody now.”

“Thank you.” She really didn’t want to talk about this. Dwelling on it chipped away at her resolve not to cry. Drawing in his dark male scent, her gaze wandered to his big hands. He easily managed the unwieldy laundry. Just as easily as he’d handled her after snatching her out of harm’s way.

Despite the size of his hands, his touch had been gentle. Reassuring. Just to be held without being expected to give anything in return had made her want to stay in his arms. That had rattled her almost as badly as the near miss with the trap.

It still did. She needed him gone from here.

“Thanks for your help. I think I’ve got it now.”

“Okay.” He thumbed his hat back, his blue eyes narrowed on her. “You sure?”

“Yes,” she said tersely, then softened her voice. “I’m fine. Really.”

He stooped to pass under the line and stand beside her. “I didn’t find any tracks besides the ones in the woods.”

The reminder of what had happened had her swallowing past a lump in her throat. Tension stretched across her shoulders. She wished he would go before her poise deserted her.

His gaze fixed on her face. “I’ll be in the barn.”

“All right.” She managed a smile, knowing he wouldn’t leave until he believed she was fine.