Jed strolled up to her and whispered something so low Jackson couldn’t hear, but whatever it was, Sarah’s eyes widened and she took a step back. He was about to jump over the fence to intervene when in front of his eyes, the hellcat regained her confidence. Two seconds later, Jed was curled in a ball on the ground, gasping for breath and clutching his balls as Sarah stalked into the house.
“Damn, she’s somethin’, ain’t she?” Nate breathed, admiration filling his voice. Guess Nate had either forgotten his own experience with Sarah’s knee, or he’d decided it was admirable when used on someone else.
Still moaning, Jed hauled himself to his knees, then his feet. “Fuckin’ squaw needs a good beatin’ to teach her her place.” He spat in the direction of the house. “If I was McLeod, I’da dropped both her and her ma off at the nearest reservation as soon as I’d realized my wife had fucked a goddamned Indian. If I’d let ’em live in the first place.”
With a pointed look at Jackson, he resettled his hat and headed for the side of the house, where a flashy thoroughbred had been tethered.
Jackson grabbed Nate before he vaulted the split rail and went after the stranger. “Don’t. He ain’t worth it.”
“Someone should set him straight, stand up to him.” Nate shrugged him off. “How come you ain’t going after him?”
“You mean considerin’ I’ve got Indian blood in me?” Jackson shook his head. “He wouldn’t learn nothing from it. Besides I’d probably end up with a bullet in my back or a rope around my neck for attackin’ him. As I said, he ain’t worth it.”
“She’s worth it.” Jackson almost missed Nate’s whispered, “So are you.”
***
Sarah crawled into bed and pulled up the quilt her mother had made for her tenth birthday. It was one of the few things she had left of Mama’s. That, and a turquoise beaded hat band, although that had originally belonged to her real father. Thank heavens she had found a place to hide it so neither Josiah or Walt could take it.
She sighed and turned on her side. Bit by bit, Josiah had been getting rid of anything that reminded him of his wife. Her mother’s body wasn’t even cold when he’d informed her she must refer to him as Mr. McLeod or Josiah, not as Pa. Strangely enough she’d been relieved at not having to keep the pretense. She’d managed to save some of her mother’s dresses to remake for herself, but almost everything had been purged from the house over the past six months. By the end of the week, Mama’s prized horses would all be gone. Bandit and three of the mares to Mr. Campbell, the rest to various ranchers in the valley. She hadn’t missed that none of the others—Walt’s paint or her stepfather’s cutting horses—were for sale.
How long before he got rid of her too?
A glass clinked downstairs followed by a creak. Josiah or Walt—or them both—getting into the whisky, no doubt, and settling into their chairs for a long drinking session. She rolled her shoulder to ease the ache, though whether it was from the hours of ironing she’d done earlier or scrubbing the floors, she couldn’t tell.
Smoke from their cigars drifted up through the cracks in the floorboards. Josiah said something, but the words didn’t carry. Another voice murmured a response, something about the horses that had her paying closer attention. Hadn’t their guests already headed to the loft in the barn to sleep? Or had Jed Hasley come back?
Her skin crawled as she remembered his suggestion. At least Josiah hadn’t punished her for kneeing Jed, despite Walt’s argument.
“We can make it work. You know we’ve done it before and not had a problem.” From the clarity of his voice, Walt must have been sitting at the table directly beneath her. “With me and Jed and a couple other guys I can round up, we can take the two of ’em easy.”
Two what? Or was it two who? Damn it, she couldn’t hear what the others were saying. Taking care not to tread on the boards that she knew would squeak and give her away, Sarah crept to the head of the stairs. She settled in the shadows at the top in time to hear Josiah speak.
“You’d have to make sure that damned stallion can’t be traced back to you once it’s done. And make sure you get a good price for him. Bandit’s got a good blood line and is worth every penny he can bring.”
Sarah covered her mouth with her hand. They were going to steal Bandit from Mr. Campbell and resell him?
“Not a problem, Mr. McLeod.” Damn, it was Jed downstairs. Hopefully Josiah wouldn’t let him come upstairs again. “I can change the brand up easy enough. By the time I’m done with it, no one will be able to connect it with you.”
Change a brand? How many times had they done this before?
“All right, but you be careful when you approach them.” Josiah paused. She imagined him swilling his drink or perhaps refilling it already. “That Campbell fellow shouldn’t be a problem, but the other one may be trouble. Make sure they can’t recognize you, and if they do, make sure they can’t tell anyone about it.”
A floorboard creaked as someone walked across the floor in her direction. She scrambled back to her bed, her heart pounding so hard she was certain they’d hear it all the way downstairs.
Someone had to warn Mr. Campbell and his friend they were going to be attacked. Maybe if they left earlier or took a different route, they could avoid it. Once the back door closed, and Walt and Josiah had both retired for the night, Sarah rolled from beneath the covers. She crept down the stairs, careful to keep to the side where the wood planks wouldn’t creak as much, and avoided the third stair from the bottom that creaked no matter where she stepped on it. After a moment’s indecision, she decided to go out the front door—it didn’t squeak on its hinges the way the one in the kitchen did. She paused by the coat rack and grabbed her cloak, then fumbled in the dark to find her boots and tug them on.
The half moon hung low on the horizon, leaving the yard in shadows that hid her as she picked her way across the rocky ground. Once she was inside the barn, she had to rely on the few slivers of moonlight breaking through the gaps in the barn boards to light the way. She stopped when she heard a low murmur in one of the corners. Sounded like their guests had decided not to sleep in the loft but in one of the empty stalls.
“Stop squirming.” Amusement tinged the voice of the man called Jackson. “You’re gonna end up with salve on everything.”
“I can’t help it. It’s cold.” There was a pause. “I sure wish you’d let me go after that Jed fella. I woulda liked to have seen him eating my boot leather. It weren’t right what he said about her.”
She stifled a sigh. Walt had never batted an eye when someone insulted her. In fact he usually joined in with sharply honed insults that he’d know would hurt her. Yet here were two strangers ready to defend her even after she’d attacked them. What would it be like to be part of a family who supported you like that all the time?
“You fancy her, don’t you?” Jackson’s voice interrupted her fantasy.
“Yeah, I do. She’s pretty. All that hair black as crows’ feathers, and those big brown eyes of hers. What’s not to love about a gal who packs a mean punch to protect her horses?” Merciful heavens, most men, and some women, found her hair and her Indian traits disgusting. Yet this man liked that about her? If she hadn’t already liked him, his comment sealed the deal. She wrapped her arms around her to stop herself from bursting into the stall to hug him.
Jackson’s laughter was more of a deep rumble, like thunder in the distance. “Or a mean shovel.”
He just had to bring that up, didn’t he? She must have looked like a wild-eyed hellion. Especially when they’d bought Bandit fair and square.
There was a moan and a sigh, following by rustling hay. Were they going to sleep? Maybe she should come back in the morning. But that might be too late.
Would they believe her? What if they didn’t? What if they did and went charging in to confront Josiah and Walt?
“You want to warm your hands? That particular part of my anatomy ain’t fond of ice, thank you,” Jackson said.
Nope, they weren’t sleeping, but what they were doing, she had no idea. She gnawed on her thumbnail, only half paying attention to their words.
“Sorry. Guess I ain’t warmed up from washing yet. The water was danged cold.”
What if they go to the sheriff and he finds Walt has been involved in other robberies? Or Josiah? They could be sentenced to hang.
There was a rustling noise followed by a sigh. One of them, Sarah couldn’t tell which, made a
hmm
ing noise, then the barn fell silent again.
You have to tell them at least to be careful. Or to take a different route home. If Walt does ambush them, if he kills them, you’ll never be able to live with yourself.
Sarah took one step forward, only to stop when Nate spoke again. “She sure can cook too. Not that you’d know it from the way Walt ate. She might as well have poured his portion in the danged pig trough the way he slurped it up.”
“Yup. Talking of eating…I got something you can eat.” Jackson chuckled, a pleasant sound that warmed Sarah’s chest in a most peculiar way. It was chilly out, but not enough to make her nipples harden beneath her cloak.
All thoughts of warning them flew out of her head. Curious as to what they were talking about, she crept forward until she could peer into the stall. While most of the stall was in shadows, thin wedges of moonlight sliced through several holes in the walls high above, illuminating where the two men lay. They’d pulled their bedrolls together. Supporting himself on one elbow, a shirtless Nate faced Jackson.
Parts of her body she’d never been aware of before pulsed deep inside her as she watched Nate undo Jackson’s shirt buttons. He spread the fabric wide, revealing a hard chest and flat stomach. His fingers played with one of the dark pebbled nipples, flicking it between his thumb and forefinger.
Oh! Oh my.
She pressed her hands to her mouth and took a step back. Josiah had lately taken to quoting passages from the bible to denounce her mother’s adultery. Some of the passages had mentioned men touching men, talked about such behavior deserving death. Without thinking she leaned closer, unable to look away. How could such tenderness be a sin?
Would a man do that to a woman too?
Under the cover of her cloak, her own hand mimicked Nate’s, tugging and playing with the hard bud of her breast. Her knees weakened, and she leaned against the stall wall. Oh dear heavens, what would it feel like if a man touched her there instead of her doing it to herself?
Nate’s hand disappeared beneath the cover. Jackson moaned, hips arching up and hands fisting at his side. “Oh, fuck, Nate, I’m not going to last long if you keep that up.”
The cover fell away, revealing Nate’s hand encircling Jackson’s erection. He pumped up and down along the shaft, his thumb moving over the bulbous head. Dear God, she’d never seen anything so…scandalous. So beautiful.
Sarah didn’t think she’d moved or made a sound, but Jackson jumped up from the bedroll and stared at her as if she’d shot a pistol. She whirled and raced for the door. He grabbed her before she could get out of the barn.
“How long have you been here? What did you see?” His words cracked through the air like a whip.
She opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. For a woman, she was tall, but he topped her by half a foot. A sliver of moonlight slanted across his face, accentuating the sharp planes of his cheekbones while hiding his eyes in shadows. The light also highlighted his lack of clothes, the broad expanse of chest, and flat belly, a body finely honed by hard work. Her gaze lowered, drawn to his still-rampant arousal. It suddenly occurred to her how stupid she’d been, walking into the barn, alone with two men who could do whatever they wanted to her with no one to stop them.
“Damn it, what did you see?” He shook her, not so it hurt, but hard enough that her cloak fell to the ground.
“Nothing. I swear.” She closed her eyes, reminding herself that it wasn’t her he lusted after, but another man.
Footsteps crunched outside, headed toward the barn. He released her as he ducked his head around the door. His expression was grim when he returned; he grabbed her forearm and dragged her into the stall, swinging the door shut with his foot.
“Stay quiet,” he commanded in a furious whisper, yet she instinctively knew the fury wasn’t directed at her. He was angry that she’d caught them, true, but more likely he was angry at himself, she realized, possibly even afraid she’d denounce them.
Light. Whoever was coming must be carrying a lantern. They’d find her. Here. In a stall with Jackson. Who was most decidedly naked though his arousal had softened. It wouldn’t matter that she was still untouched by a man when they found them together. Josiah had been looking for a way to get rid of her, and here she’d handed him the means on a platter. She could tell the McLeods that these men weren’t interested in her but knowing her father’s sense of justice, these men would end up strung up by their necks, and she’d still be abandoned at a brothel as soiled dove.
“I saw her go into the barn, I swear.” Walt’s voice floated through the crisp night air.
She cast about, searching for somewhere to hide.
“Ha! Here’s her cloak!” Triumph filled Walt’s voice. “See? I told you Jed was telling the truth about her sneaking into the barn.”
Jackson cursed under his breath; he shoved her into the darkest corner and trapped her against the wall. She shrank into the corner and made herself as small as possible. Despite her efforts to make no trouble, was she about to find herself abandoned, forced to work as a streetwalker to earn her next meal?
The stall door swung open and her father stood there, lantern in hand. “I know Sarah’s with you, Kellar. I can see her nightdress behind you.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jackson stepped aside. Josiah’s eyes narrowed, their blue cold and assessing. “Walt, fetch the preacher. Now.”
Chapter Two
Preacher? Hellfire! Jackson cursed, both fate and Sarah. Damn it, he and Nate knew it was too dangerous to be fooling around when there was a possibility someone would walk in on them. Out on the trail with only the cows and horses for company or in the privacy of Nate’s home, they could let their guard down but not here. They deserved to get caught for being so danged rash.