The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride (8 page)

The lawman then examined the second branch Gideon had set in place near the bois d’arc tree using a small rock at either end. Josh rose, admiration glinting in his eyes. “I like how you rigged this up.”

“You can still see the outline of the boot print. The size and depth of the imprint make it clear it belongs to a man.”

“Who the hell is doing this?” Frustration laced Josh’s words.

“That’s what Miss Ivy and I are trying to find out.”

“I’d say leave her out of it, but I know that would be like trying to rope the wind. I’m glad she has someone out here with her.”

“I guess she’s lived out here alone since her husband died?”

“Yeah.”

Gideon wanted to know more. Even as he told himself to leave it be, he asked, “Did you know Powell?”

“Yes. After the war, he was never the same.”

Sadly, Gideon could say the same about a lot of people. “How do you mean?”

“Tom didn’t drink much before he left, but after he returned home, he liked his liquor.”

That was probably why Ivy didn’t hold with alcohol. “Was he a mean drunk?”

“I never saw that or heard it. I hope not.”

Gideon recalled his questions to Ivy in the barn about her late husband. She hadn’t wanted to talk about him at all. Because the loss was still too painful or for some other reason? She hadn’t acted as if she’d been afraid of the man. She hadn’t acted as if she missed him much, either.

She’d shut Gideon out at the first mention of Tom Powell. He hadn’t been able to read her.

He and the other man walked through the front gate. Farrell lowered his voice. “Do you think she’s all right after that business with the trap?”

“She says so.”

The other man frowned. “But?”

“She was real shaken up.” He had been, too. Rattled enough that he hadn’t wanted to let her out of his sight. “But she gathered herself pretty quickly. Almost as if she wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.”

“Hmph.” The lawman didn’t seem to know what to make of that.

Gideon sure as hell didn’t. What he knew about women wouldn’t cover the head of a nail.

“Black, I want you to contact me the next time something happens.”

“All right.”

“Can you show me those drawings?”

“Sure.”

They went into the house and found the illustrations on the large kitchen table, where Ivy had left them after showing them to Meg. As Josh scoured the illustrations, Gideon watched Ivy. She was still pale, but that was the only sign of what had happened earlier. Was she really fine?

The sheriff put down the last sketch, frowning at Ivy. “Why don’t you come back to town with us?”

Though Gideon didn’t like the idea, it might be best for her.

“I’ve already tried to convince her,” Meg said, frustration clouding her green eyes.

“There are two of us to keep watch.” Ivy squeezed the other woman’s hand. “Everything will be fine.”

Neither Josh nor his wife looked convinced. Gideon could help ease their minds. “I’ll be staying on the porch for a while.”

He carefully watched Ivy’s reaction, expecting a protest. When she didn’t, he knew she was a lot more affected by her close call with the trap than she let on. The whole idea of it still shook Gideon to the core. The admission didn’t sit well.

After Eleanor’s lethal damsel-in-distress ruse had cost him so much, Gideon would be a fool to get close to another woman. But as long as he was here, nothing was going to happen to Ivy, no matter how close he had to get.

Chapter Five

A
ll day and evening, Ivy managed not to dwell on nearly stepping into that vicious metal monster. Though it lingered in the back of her mind, she handled it. Just as she’d handled everything since marrying Tom. Finally, it was time for bed.

She was exhausted, but couldn’t close her eyes. Every time she did, she heard that deafening metal snap, felt the tight, firm clamp of Gideon’s arm around her waist.

Just when she finally started to drift off, a picture of Tug flashed through her brain, of the night his leg had been broken. His agonized scream echoed in her mind. And as always, when she recalled the dog’s injury, she was swarmed by memories of the night Tom died.

She threw off the quilt and got out of bed. After lighting her bedside lamp, she tried to read
Moby Dick.
She started the same page five times before she gave up. The events of this morning hung over her like a cold, dark fog. She was not going to cry.

She rose to look out her window. Clouds covered the moon, making the night hazy and gray. Through the shadows and occasional peep of moonlight, she could make out the barn. She knew Gideon was on her front porch. Was he asleep? She couldn’t deny she felt better knowing the big man was nearby.

Taking her lamp, she went into the kitchen and paced to the other side of the large room. She had mending to do, but couldn’t bring herself to sit down. That trembly sinking feeling was back. If she returned to bed, she was afraid she might break down, and she’d managed to avoid doing that all day.

If she stayed in the house, she would never get the sounds, the images out of her head.

Carrying her lamp to the bedroom, she set it on the small table near her bed then took her wrapper from inside her wardrobe. She slipped on the lightweight cotton garment and belted it around her waist. She looked down the hall toward the back door.

Gideon had put the trap where it couldn’t hurt anyone, but Ivy would just as soon avoid that spot. Plus, they had set up a can inside the back door so that if someone tried to get in, the container would fall and sound an alert.

She blew out the lamp then padded across the front room, her slippers making a slight scuffing noise. Quietly, she opened the door and peeked out.

“Miss Ivy?” In the shadows, she saw him get to his feet and come toward her. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m havin’ the same problem.” He moved in front of her. Moonlight sliced across the lower half of his jaw. His blue eyes glittered as he searched her features. The concern on his rugged face had her throat tightening.

His worry didn’t annoy her, but she didn’t want that from him. He would want to know how she was. She would be fine if she didn’t have to relive what had happened.

She took a deep breath. “May I get you anything? A quilt? A pillow?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine. I’ve got my bedroll.”

She stared out into the darkness. Just being with another person helped. “Have you heard or seen anything?”

“No.”

“And you checked the woods?” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

“Yes, and the barn as well as all around the house.” His voice was quiet, patient.

Her throat tightened. He was protecting her just as he had that morning.

She gathered her wrapper tighter around herself, her gaze probing the shadows. The croak of a frog sounded in an offbeat rhythm with the cows’ bawling.

“You’ve got company.”

“What?” She started, squinting into the night.

“The pup,” Gideon said, a reassuring note in his voice.

She looked down to see Thunder wobble drowsily around Gideon’s legs. Ivy scooped up the whelp and scratched her behind the ears. The pup climbed up Ivy’s chest, sharp little nails pricking through the lightweight cotton of Ivy’s wrapper. Once at her shoulder, the animal snuffled and closed her eyes.

Ivy smiled. “I wanted to show her to Meg, but we got to talking. Before I knew it, you and Josh were back. How did it go?”

“Fine.”

She glanced at him. “Did he ask you about prison?”

“He asked how long I’ve known your brother. When I told him, he realized we’d met when we were both at Leavenworth.”

“Did you tell him why you were there?”

“Yeah. He’s the law. There’s no sense keeping it from him.”

She recalled their conversation during breakfast that first morning. “Did you tell him more than you told me the other day?”

“A little.”

She studied him for a moment. So, Josh knew more about Gideon than Ivy did. While that chafed, it was for the best.

Tension pulsed from the big man beside her. “You want to ask me anything?”

“No.” She was curious, but she didn’t want him asking questions about her and Tom.

“Do you want to sit? You can use my bedroll so you won’t mess up your...frillies.”

She was properly covered, but was wearing no undergarments. A little shiver rippled through her. She knew it had nothing to do with the cool night air and everything to do with Gideon. He was fully dressed right down to his boots. In the darkness, he looked even more imposing. Broad shoulders, deep chest. Solid. Strong.

She should probably go back inside, but she wanted to stay out here with him. She
needed
to.

Despite that unsettling realization, she sank down on the top step, her nightgown and wrapper billowing out in a filmy cotton cloud.

He sat next to her, taking up all the free space. And air.

She felt his regard, steady and curious, before he looked out into the night. “You have a nice place here. Someday I want a place like this.”

“I’m fortunate to have it. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep it running.”

“When are you supposed to hear from the bank?”

“It will be a few days. The mayor, who’s on the loan committee, is out of town.” She drew in Gideon’s clean male scent, a hint of leather. His hands were huge and rough-looking, but they were also gentle. His mouth looked hard, too. She wondered if it was.

Jerking her mind from the thought, she glanced at him. “You said you wanted a place like this. Do you want to settle down someday?”

He hesitated. “I’d like to own some land.”

“Is there someone special waiting for you in Mimosa Springs or somewhere else?”

He gave a sharp laugh. “No.”

The firm definitive way he said it sparked her curiosity. Had there been a woman in his past?

“Have you ever been married?”

“No,” he snapped, then tempered his tone. “Maybe someday. That’s not in my plans right now.”

“Mine, either,” she muttered darkly.

He gave her a sideways look, but didn’t comment, which was just as well. She wasn’t telling Gideon Black why she was so set against the idea.

Thunder squirmed her way to Ivy’s lap and snuggled in. Stroking the dog, she thought back over how solicitous Gideon had been. Typically, having a man check on her repeatedly was annoying. For some reason, his concern hadn’t bothered her.

In the half shadows, she could see the strong column of Gideon’s throat, the stern line of his jaw. There was barely enough light to make out the scar there, though she could clearly see the one that ringed his neck.

What had happened to him? How long had he been scarred like this? She wasn’t going to ask. She’d learned her lesson about that.

Several times, his attention drifted to her and lingered. He shifted beside her. For a long moment, they sat there surrounded by the chirp of crickets, the throaty call of an owl.

He looked as if he were piecing together a puzzle. Finally, he said slowly, “What happened today was scary. Are you all right? Truly?”

“I am.” Why was he bringing this up? The pup let out a snore, her fur soft beneath Ivy’s touch. “And I apologize for snapping at you this morning.”

“That’s okay.” His gaze, silvery-blue in the dim light, moved over her, putting a hitch in her pulse.

Again she recalled the way he’d held her. And why he’d had to. The biting snap of the trap ricocheted through her mind, and the fear she’d kept at bay hit her like an arrow. Swift, stinging.

She began to tremble. She didn’t want to think about it, but the scene looped through her mind. Tears stung her eyes.

“I can’t believe someone would try to hurt me,” she burst out. A chill worked under her skin. “The loss of the horse and my dog didn’t run me off, so now this polecat wants to harm me. Why?”

Her voice shook. Along with the fear, the anger she’d locked up since the incident broke free. As much as she hated crying, she couldn’t stop it.

Covering her face with her hands, she sobbed. About Tug, the dead horse, the missing animals, her close call with the trap. The pup whimpered, and Ivy felt Gideon take the animal.

She wiped her face, but the tears kept coming.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered helplessly.

She agreed. Embarrassed and irritated, she did her best to stifle more sobs. Forevermore! After another moment, she quieted.

Gideon awkwardly patted her shoulder. She dried her eyes with the sleeve of her wrapper. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He was probably working on how to get away from her.

“I’m sorry for crying. It just got the better of me. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“What happened was damn scary.” His voice was low and soothing. “Scared me, too.”

Her head came up, and she searched his face. He was sincere.

“I’m so grateful you spotted that trap. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. Suddenly, slowly, he reached toward her.

She held her breath, recalling the feel of his strong, steady arms around her. Wanting to feel them again.

But his palm settled on the wood floor beside her hip. The warmth of his body reached across to her.

She stared at his huge hand for a moment. It was nice not to be alone. Not to
feel
alone.

She pulled her nightgown and wrapper up to her calf, staring down at her ankle. Her undamaged ankle.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gideon clench a fist. She glanced over to find him staring at her leg. The hunger in his face had her sucking in a breath.

His gaze traveled slowly up, over the folds of fabric to her breasts.

That look burned like a touch. It put a different, sharper sting in her nerves. Made her feel stripped raw.

She swallowed hard.

He finally met her eyes. “We’ll figure this out, Miss Ivy. Find whoever’s responsible for what’s going on.”

It was a vow. The determination in his face made her eyes well with tears again.

His brows drew together. “If you’d like, I can take you into town. To the Farrells’.”

“No.” This was her home; she wasn’t leaving. She still felt wobbly, but it was passing. “I’m not running away from whoever is trying to hurt me.”

“It’s not runnin’. It’s stayin’ safe.”

“I feel safe here.”
With you,
she added silently.

Astonished at the thought and slightly panicked, she gathered the folds of her wrapper and stood. “I think I’ll go in and let you get some sleep.”

He rose, too, helping her up. She kept her hand in his warm, strong one longer than she should have. Finally, she pulled away.

As she turned for the door, he said, “I’ll do my best not to let anything happen to you.”

Her spine went rigid. “You don’t have to rescue me, Mr. Black. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, ma’am, I surely know that, but it can’t hurt to have someone at your back.”

As much as she hated admitting it, he was right. It was even harder to admit that she was glad that someone was him. Despite her best efforts, she’d leaned on him and while she didn’t regret it exactly, she couldn’t do it again.

* * *

That little slip of a woman was dangerous. To his willpower, his resolve.

The next morning while working on the pump at the front of the house, Gideon finally admitted it. He’d known since their first meeting that she would get to him.

She was the reason he hadn’t slept last night. He was a light sleeper and would’ve woken at the slightest noise, if he’d been able to even close his eyes.

On the porch in her nightclothes, she’d managed to worm some information out of him, though it hadn’t been about his or Smith’s prison time. No, Ivy had asked if he had anyone special. All he’d said was no, but he hadn’t had anyone since Eleanor, and now he knew he’d never had her at all.

The biggest surprise had been Ivy asking if he’d ever been married. Had she asked about a woman in his life because she thought the sheriff might know something she didn’t, or because she was genuinely interested?

He’d always figured he would marry. Even so, he’d never given much thought as to who it would be, just had a vague faceless woman in his head. Not now. Ever since Ivy had asked, he’d seen
her
face. Her body. Pictured the two of them together, naked and not naked.

He greased the pipe fitting before twisting it on.

Yes, he wanted her, but beneath the desire, there was something easy between them. Even with her tears, which had seemed to surprise her as much as they had him, being with Ivy felt natural, unlike when he’d been with Eleanor. And Ivy had sought him out, though not to use him as the woman in his past had done.

Gideon’s first instinct had been to comfort her, hold her. In the end, all he’d done was lay a hand on her shoulder. It might have been enough for her, but not for him. He’d felt her body plastered to his after he’d grabbed her away from that trap. He wanted to feel her again. Still, he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it.

After giving the handle a couple of quick pumps to make sure it moved smoothly, Gideon took a clean bandanna from his back trouser pocket. He wiped the grease from his hands, glancing down the road. Though still quite a distance away, he could see the stage coming. The sun’s position, as well as the gnaw of hunger in his gut, said it was nigh on noon.

Dropping the oily rag into the wooden box that also held a wrench, hammer and pliers, he hopped the fence and strode across the yard to the porch. The door was open, and the scent of cooking meat and yeasty dough drifted out.

He poked his head inside, and for a moment he watched Ivy. She stood over the stove, damp wisps of raven hair escaping from her low chignon to curl against her delicate nape. The pale blue dress sleeked over her curves like a glove, outlining slender shoulders and a slim waist that Gideon itched to span with his hands.