The Lawman's Betrayal (4 page)

After checking on the horses, he grabbed his rifle and blanket and propped up against the nearest tree. His instincts told him a guard might be necessary, and he always listened to his instincts. Like Naomi, he’d also felt like he’d been followed all day. He hadn’t seen anyone, or any sign, but his gut told him they were out there.

Someone was mighty interested in Naomi Brecker.

But who?

And why?

Chapter Three

The raucous cries of a hawk woke Naomi, and she scrubbed a hand across her eyes. The dream had come again last night—no, the nightmare, robbing her of sleep, refusing to release its stranglehold on her. Almost every night since it’d happened, she relived the horror of Roy’s death. She had a feeling that there was something about that night she should remember, that it was important, but it always eluded her.

She raised herself up on her elbows and looked around the sun-dappled glade. U. S. Marshal Wes Cooper was nowhere to be seen. A tinge of regret hit her. While she’d felt quite safe knowing he was there, the censure that lingered in his icy blue eyes unnerved—and angered—her.

The aroma of coffee wafted on the early morning breeze. She sniffed appreciatively. She scanned the camp again—the coffee hadn’t made itself. But still no sign of the lawman. Even his horse was gone.

She threw the blanket back and climbed out of her bedroll. With a yawn, she stretched her arms over her head, her muscles defiant. The ground had been harder than the cot she’d slept on in the prison. After a moment, she walked downstream, found a secluded place, and took care of her body’s needs. She retraced her steps to the water’s edge, knelt, scooped up handfuls of the clear liquid, and washed her face. With a smile, she lifted her face to the sun, enjoying its warmth, letting the freedom of the moment wash over her. She could even smell her liberty in the clear air and inhaled deeply. Life had never been more precious than it was today. She would never take it for granted ever again.

As she walked back to camp, the sound of horse’s hooves thundering loudly in the still morning air sent her scurrying for her rifle. She grabbed the weapon and turned to see the marshal ride into camp.

He reined in his horse, sliding from the saddle in a single, fluid motion. With a smile, he touched the brim of his hat. “Good morning, Mrs. Brecker.”

His smile sent goose bumps snaking down her spine. The tingling sensation in her gut—and lower—returned. “I told you not to be here this morning.” She brandished the rifle at him, trying to appear angry.

“Yes, ma’am, you did.” He tied the horse’s reins to a low-hanging oak branch, walked to the campfire and hunkered down beside it. With an almost apologetic smile at her, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Well, why are you still here?”

“Oh, just thought I’d check and see what those fellows following us wanted.” He lifted a dark eyebrow that said ‘I told you so.’

Her heart rose in her throat. “What fellows? What are you talking about?”

He gulped down a swig of coffee. “Well, this morning, about dawn, I heard something…or someone. So I had a look around—found three men camped up on the ridge. When they saw me, they hightailed it out of there.”

He nodded to the north, and she glanced in that direction. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Well, take my word for it, they’re there.” He drank the last of his coffee and set the cup aside.

“I believe you. I can’t think of any reason you’d lie about it, unless you’re trying to scare me.”

“Just telling you the way it is.” He shrugged. “Seems like someone is very interested in you.”

“In me? Whatever for?”

“Maybe they think you know where the stolen money and stolen guns are.”

“Like you do?”

He shrugged in answer, a habit of his she was coming to know. She leaned her rifle against the tree, then sat on the log next to the fire. He handed her a cup of coffee. “But I don’t know anything.”

“So you say.”

“How dare you call me a liar.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And I don’t know anything. If you don’t believe me, why are you still here?”

“You still want me to leave?”

Naomi hesitated. She didn’t want to appear too eager to answer, so she pretended to mull the question over. Finally, she shook her head. “No. I guess you can stay. At least for a while, until we reach Gila Bend.”

“Well, you have to ask me to stay real nice like.”

Naomi’s fingers tightened around the handle of the cup. While she wanted to throw the hot coffee at him, she merely smiled. “Will you please stay, Marshal Cooper?” she asked, her voice syrupy sweet.

“Why, of course I will, Mrs. Brecker. After all, I am a lawman, and it’s my job to serve and protect.”

“Yes, you are, but you’re enjoying this too much.” She stood and locked gazes with him. “You know, those men could be looking for you. I’m sure you’ve made a lot of enemies while you’ve been ‘serving and protecting’.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you’re right, but I never saw those men before.”

“That doesn’t really mean anything. They could be hired guns.”

“That’s true, but if they were after me, I think they would’ve taken a few shots at me. Nope, I think it’s pretty clear they’re after you. So I think we should eat a quick breakfast and hightail it out of here. What do you think, Mrs. Brecker?”

“I agree. The sooner the better. I’ll fry some bacon.”

“Good.” He stood and glanced up at the ridge. “While you do that, I’ll saddle your horse and fill the canteens.”

Naomi retrieved cooking utensils and food from her supply bag. She knelt by the fire and set the frying pan over the hot coals. Soon, bacon crackled, sending a delicious aroma over the camp. She dared a glance at the marshal. He lifted the saddle easily and placed it on the horse’s back, the muscles in his arms and back rippling. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. Awareness churned in her belly—and lower. Grease spattered on her wrist. She yanked her hand back. “Ouch.”

“What’s the matter?” He dashed over to her.

“It’s nothing. I just…the grease…it’s nothing really.” A flush rose from her neck, running across her face. She averted her eyes.

He grabbed her hand. “Let me see.”

His touch seemed to burn more than the grease. She jerked her hand away. “I said I’m all right.”

He held his hands up, palms forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry.” With an inscrutable expression on his face, he walked away.

Guilt attacked her. “Marshal, wait!”

He stopped and faced her, his expression inscrutable. She shot him an apologetic smile. “Listen, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m not used to anyone…being concerned about me.”

“That’s okay.”

“Come and eat.”

“All right.”

He sat on the log by the fire, and she handed him a plate. “Sorry, it’s not very much, but it’s all we got.”

“I’ll try to find us some fresh meat later.”

“Good. That’d be nice. Thank you.” She sat opposite him and ate quickly. “I guess we can go now. I’ll clean the dishes.”

“All right. I’ll douse the fire—”

She jumped to her feet, cutting off his words. “No, not yet. Give me five minutes. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get something.” She dashed down to the stream, scooped up the prison garb, and stalked over to the fire. With a cry of victory, she tossed the horrible garments onto the hot coals. They caught fire immediately. Soon, only a pile of ashes remained. As she watched them burn, a sense of accomplishment filled her. She’d survived, survived Roy’s death, survived the trial, and survived three years in prison.

“Feel better?”

She glanced at Wes, a wide smile on her face. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Good. I’ll fill the canteens, then we can get out of here.”

Five minutes later, she followed Wes out of the glade. She scanned the countryside but saw no one. “Tell me again where you saw those men.”

“Up there.” He pointed up at the ridge. “Don’t be afraid. They won’t attack us out here in the open. We can see for miles. No, they’ll wait until dark.”

“I’m not afraid. Well, maybe I am,” she conceded. “A little bit anyway. Do you really think they’re looking for me?”

****

He almost lied to her—but couldn’t. “Yeah. I think they probably followed us out of town.”

She paled under her sunburned skin. “But how did they know I was being released yesterday? Nobody knew. Why, I didn’t even know until that moment. It’s not like it was public knowledge.”

“I don’t know. Maybe they were just at the right place, at the right time.” Wes pushed his hat back and surveyed the area. “Luck of the draw.”

“That’s a mighty big coincidence. What if I…when we see them, just tell them I don’t know where the money is. Roy never told me. He swore to me he was going to give it back. He just never had the chance. Someone killed him before he could.”

“You think they’ll believe you?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Probably not. The whole town of Gila Bend never believed me. You don’t—why should they?”

Guilt crowded in on him, but he brushed it aside. He couldn’t let a pretty face cloud his thinking. Staying focused had helped keep him alive over these past ten years. Her voice broke into his reverie.

“How long will it take us to reach Gila Bend?”

“Three days.” With the tip of his finger, he pulled his hat low over his forehead. “That is, if everything goes all right.”

“About what I figured.” With a grimace on her face, she shifted in the saddle. “I haven’t been in a saddle for that long a time in years.”

He grinned. “It does take some getting used to. The secret is not to think about it.”

“Easy to say, hard to do.”

“Yeah.” He leaned over and touched the tip of her nose. “You got a hat?”

“No.”

“How about a scarf or a bandana?”

“No.”

As he angled in the saddle, he opened the flap to his saddle bag. He pulled out a red bandana and handed it to her. “At least put this around your neck. It’s already burned.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

He cursed under his breath. “You’re one stubborn woman, Mrs. Brecker. I’ll say that for you.”

“I disagree, Marshal. I’m merely trying to be independent.”

He locked gazes with her, her dark green eyes teasing, mesmerizing him. His pulse raced, and he found himself holding his breath. “It’s one thing to be independent, another thing entirely to act stupid.”

Her eyes darkened to almost black. Her hands tightened on the reins until her knuckles were white.

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“No, ma’am, but it is stupid to let your neck burn more when you can do something about it. You can’t ignore it. Burns can get infected.”

“I am going to do something about it.” She pulled the chignon loose, allowing the honey-blonde hair to spill down her back. A smug smile teased her lips. “There. My neck is covered. Satisfied?” She kicked the mare’s flanks. “Let’s go, Jo.” The animal surged forward; she didn’t look back.

As she rode away, Wes found himself admiring her rounded backside, tiny waist, and the curve of her hip. Desire sparked inside him. He wanted to bury his face in those blond tresses and kiss her until she begged him to take her. Laughing at himself, he shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. He was acting like a schoolboy.

A nudge of his heels sent his horse galloping forward. When he caught up with her, he slowed his mount. He took his hat off, wiped his arm across his brow, and studied the area. When he saw nothing, he jammed the hat back on, pulling it low on his forehead to fight the glare.

Even though he could feel her gaze on him, she didn’t speak. They rode in companionable silence for about an hour. When she fidgeted in the saddle, he pointed at a strand of scrub oaks ahead. “We’ll rest there a few minutes.”

“Good. I’m so hot it feels like my blood is boiling in my veins.”

A few minutes ride took them to the inviting shade. He dismounted, then turned to help her down. But she’d already climbed from the saddle and now held on to the saddle horn. As he watched, she slowly straightened, rubbed her derriere, and stretched her arms over her head. The thin fabric of her blouse stretched taut over her breasts, clearly revealing the hardened nipples. Again, the lower half of his body surged to life. This assignment might just prove to be the most difficult one he’d ever undertaken.

“You never cease to amaze me, Mrs. Brecker?”

She glanced at him. “Oh? Why is that, Marshal Cooper?”

“I’ve never been around a woman who didn’t talk your head off. You’ve barely said three words the last hour or so.”

She stared off into the distance. “Well, when your whole world for the last three years has consisted of a small prison cell and you don’t have anyone to talk to, you get kind of used to the silence. You get to know yourself pretty well.”

He grabbed the canteen from the saddle horn, uncapped it, took a gulp, and handed it to her. “I guess so. My job takes me out on some long rides by myself. You do get used to the silence.”