The Lady and the Lawman (12 page)

“
You’re
just angry because you were wrong.”

“
Wrong
about what?”

“
That
I could ride the horse on my own.”

“
Oh,
we’re not back to that again, are we?” He yanked his hat off and
ran his hand through his unruly hair.

“
Yes,
we are. And I think you owe me an apology.” She crossed her arms
over her chest, feeling the star pinned there. Her ripped dress had
completely slipped her mind.

“
Apology?”

She
could hear the aggravation in his voice.

“
I
think you should—” He didn’t finish his tirade, for they both
heard more horses approaching.

Now
what? Dear lord, would this horrid day never ever end?

He
pulled her into his side, all but shoving her behind him, his gun
raised, cocked. Ready. The pain in his leg must have been severe
because he leaned heavily on her. “Let me take care of this. Don’t
do anything but breathe, understand?”

Before
she could respond, a whistle overlapped the hoofbeats and the sheriff
lowered his gun.

She
remained where she was, behind the protection his body offered.
She
gripped the back of his shirt. Mo
ments
later, several men on horseback rode up and stopped in front of them.

“
What
the hell happened here?” one of them asked, gun still in hand,
however it rested on his thigh instead of poised and primed. The moon
had risen enough for her to see him quickly look her over before
tipping his hat. She pulled the ends of her ripped dress closer
together, embarrassed at his scrutiny.

“
Tom,
mighty glad to see you,” the sheriff replied, smiling tightly at
the stranger. “Seems we’ve had a run-in with Dalton.”

“
Glad
we got here when we did. Some of the men saw what happened at the
tables earlier and knew there might be trouble when Dalton left town.
They sent the new kid, Barnes, out to the ranch to get the rest of
the men. Reinforcements. Turns out we were needed after all. We
headed them off and they’re probably on their way back to his ranch
by now. Looks like that leg needs some tending to, though.” The man
swung down from his saddle and approached to get a better look.

The
sheriff shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Nothing,
indeed. She was thankful to these men who’d driven off Dalton and
his brood of men.

The
other man nodded, stopping in front of them. Obviously he thought the
injury was nothing, as well. “If it’s fine, then the blood loss
has drained out your manners.”

The
sheriff must have forgotten she was there. He pulled her out from
behind him as he chuckled. “Tom, this is Maggie. Maggie, my
brother, Tom.”

Tom
smiled at her and relief finally washed over her. The sheriff's
brother. They weren’t being attacked by evil men on horseback. Not
that she would’ve been surprised if that was their intention. It
would have only been the third time today it had happened to her. It
must be some kind of record even the sheriff couldn’t best.

“
Hello,”
she whispered, suddenly unable to find her voice. It was all over.
They weren’t going to be shot. She might see the next sunrise after
all! She began to shake like a leaf, the enormity of what happened
finally sinking in.

The
sheriff must have felt it, for he pulled her in close, one arm snug
around her hip, holding her up. The feel of his body pressed against
hers, his warmth seeping into her, was comfort indeed.

“
I
think we’ve had enough fun for one night,” he murmured to Tom.
“Let’s get the hell out of here before Dalton has time to whip up
his fury again. We’re headed to your place, so I hope that’s
still all right.”

“
See
you there.” Tom mounted his horse as the sheriff led her back to
his.

He
carefully, yet a little clumsily, swung up into the saddle and
offered his hand to her. She shook her head.

“
I’m
not riding with you, Sheriff, until you admit you needed my help,”
she said, vehemently. Her anger at his stubbornness was not to be
appeased.

He
remained silent, leaned down and pulled her up into his arms, placing
her carefully onto his lap as if she were a petulant, naughty child
who’d questioned her betters. She looked around to see if the other
men were watching, but they’d already ridden off, blending into the
darkness.

“
The
man is supposed to protect the woman, not the other way around,” he
said quietly, so only she could hear. “Especially the sheriff. But
thanks for helping.”

In
terms of apologies, she’d take what she could get. Satisfied, she
leaned back into his chest.

After
a few quiet minutes, he murmured into her ear, “Why’d you come
back?”

She
knew what he meant, but didn’t want to let on she’d contemplated
leaving him alone, defenseless. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“
Yes,
you do. Why’d you come back?” His voice was soft, yet deep.

She
remained silent for several minutes before she spoke. “I couldn’t
leave you behind, not knowing how badly you were hurt.”

“
So
you chose to come back to help me? Even though it’s just a
scratch?”

She
nodded her head aga
inst
his shirtfront. “It’s more than a silly little scratch. It seems
we’re even, doesn’t it?”

***

Grant
knew better. They definitely weren’t even. It wasn’t tit for tat.
He’d saved her so she saved him? Was that what the woman thought?
That’s not how things worked. It was his job to find the men who’d
kidnapped her from the stage. His work had just begun. She was now
his responsibility.

His
leg hurt like hell, fighting with the bullet he knew was still lodged
there. He'd lied to her about the injury so she didn't worry. “It’s
all over now. Close your eyes and rest,” he said, gritting his
teeth through the pain. Her shaking quickly subsided once she settled
in his arms with her head against his shoulder. She’d taken quite a
chance coming back for him, not knowing if Dalton and his men were
still shooting up the night.

Hell,
she’d taken quite a chance climbing up on Dalton’s horse in the
first place! He hadn’t known her plan when she’d slid off his
lap. She’d been safe enough in his arms, but obviously hadn’t
believed it. She’d swung gracefully up on Dalton’s mare by
grabbing hold of its long mane like an Indian maiden, stunning him.
When she rode off into the night, long hair flowing about her, he
hadn’t known what to think. The way it took Dalton and his men long
minutes to chase after her, they hadn’t, either.

He
should’ve listened to her, believed her
when she’d
said she could ride. But he hadn’t. There weren’t too many women
he could think of who could ride bareback.

And
damn, could she ride!

Now,
he was indebted to her even more. She’d actually accomplished what
she’d set out to do. She’d been right. Dalton wasn’t interested
in him. The man wanted her, and the horse she rode. After they
realized she'd sprinted off, Dalton and his gang chased her, leaving
him alone to lick his wounds. Or at least tend to the wound in his
leg, which now throbbed painfully, blood continuing to trickle down
his thigh.

Thank
Go
d
the ranch hands had seen Dalton's anger, knew the history and sent
for help. Tom and several of his men hadn’t been far off when all
hell broke loose. If they hadn’t heard the gunshots and been quick
t
o
help, Dalton wouldn’t have given up his chase and returned to town
empty-handed. The thought of the bastard’s meaty paws on her made
Grant irate.

He
now owed much to the woman asleep in his arms. He’d never be able
to pay off his obligation to her. In a few short hours after meeting
her,
he felt a fierce protectiveness he’d never known before. No other
woman had done that to him. Ever. Hell, no other woman had risked her
life to protect him, either.
Maybe
that’s why he’d bristled when she’d wanted an admission from
him. He was the one who was supposed to protect her, to protect
everyone in Cranston.

He
sighed. What was he going to do with her? After that first kiss in
the saloon, the first time he'd touched her smooth skin, seen her
perfect body, he’d known he wasn't going to let any other man touch
her.
He
wanted to keep her safe, this woman whose curly hair came up to
tickle his chin as he rode.
She
was going
to be his, and his alone. That scared him, but he'd have it no other
way.

CHAPTER
FIVE

Margaret
stirred and rubbed the sleep from her eyes when the horse slowed. An
hour or more must have passed, because the sun was making its daily
climb over the open prairie. They rode up in front of a large white
clapboard house and she shifted to look up at Grant. He brushed a
curl from her face before he climbed down stiffly from the saddle.

“
Here,
let me help you.” His hands circled her waist and lifted her off of
his mount as if she weighed nothing. She felt the warmth of his hands
through the light material of her dress. They were big and rough, but
his hold gentle.

“
Your
leg!” she tried to break out of his grasp, afraid she’d hurt him.

He
placed his hand over the blood soaked pant leg. “It’s fine.”

“
But
the blood!”

“
It’s
fine!” He hissed the last word through his teeth.

Seeing
the sheriff sway on his feet, she screamed and tried to hold him up
with her shoulder, but he passed out before she could get a solid
grip on him. His dead weight was more than she could handle. They
crumpled to the ground, and a cloud of dust stirred as they landed.
She was once again on her bruised bottom, with Grant heavy on top of
her.

Tom
came running, his long legs eating up the distance. “What’s
wrong?”
“His leg,” she gasped. By now, her hands and the
front of her dress were stained red with his seeping blood as she
tried to extricate herself from beneath him.

Squatting
down, Tom rolled the sheriff off of her and assessed his damaged leg.
She pulled herself up and knelt next to Tom. The bleeding was fresh.
His pant leg clung to the sticky wound.

“
Let’s
get him upstairs into bed.” He struggled to lift the sheriff's dead
weight. Tom was slighter than his brother, which wasn't saying much
as he was built like a barrel. “I’m going to need your help.”

“
Yes,
all right.” Squatting down, she looked to Tom for instruction.

“
Grab
his feet and together I think we can get him upstairs.”

She
nodded and grabbed hold of the sheriff's dusty boots and struggled
with Tom to get him into the house, upstairs and into bed. It took
several minutes, with periods of quick rest. The man was huge—and
heavy! He didn’t stir even with their struggles, and the blood
continued to flow in a steady trickle from his thigh.

Once
they settled the sheriff on the bed, Tom ripped his pant leg open to
see the wound more clearly.

“
Bullet’s
still in there.”

Oh
God. He'd spent the past few hours holding her tightly against him
all the while a bullet had been lodged in his leg. Petrified, she
said, “What...what do we do for him?”

“
I
need to get the bullet out. Thankfully, he’s passed out. I’ll be
back in a few minutes. Holler if he stirs.”