The Gunslinger’s Untamed Bride (4 page)

“Miss Carrington has asked you a question.”

“I, uh…” Again, Grimshaw turned toward the equally vacant expression of his co-worker.

“Surely you have employee files,” said Lily.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We would like to see them.”

“I’ll be truthful with you. Those files aren’t as sharp as they ought to be.”

“We’ll be able to straighten them out,” said Reginald. He pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and held it out to Grimshaw. “Our estimated payout is listed on top. Beneath you’ll find a cross-reference for employees. We’ll need you to confirm positions and pay rates.”

Grimshaw glanced at the papers. The man beside him leaned in. “You brought the payroll up here?” Grimshaw said, alarm tightening his features.

“This is the Pine Ridge Lumber Camp, is it not?” asked Mr. Dobbs.

“Yeah, but pay’s usually passed out in The Grove. Sheriff set that up right off when he took over.”

“The grove?” said Lily

“It ain’t really a grove, just a spot in the lower hills where some of the family types put down stakes and planted some fruit trees. It’s got all the particulars of a township, banking office, church, brothel and general store. A man wants his pay, he goes to The Grove office.”

“’Cept for here lately,” said Mathews. The mill worker’s mouth slanted with a frown.

“What are you suggesting?” asked Reginald. “That we distribute payroll down in The Grove?”

“I reckon. You’d need to run it past the sheriff. He ought to be back later today. He has final say about such things. He put a stop to pay coming up the mountain a couple years back. Too many blind bends in these mountain roads for a man to be riding with cash in his pockets, that’s what he told McFarland.”

“Then we’ll distribute wages in The Grove,” said Lily. “In order to do that, we’ll need to see your filing system.”

Grimshaw poked a finger at the sweat-dampened hair beneath his hat, his tense expression unwavering. “Filing system?”

Good gracious.
Did she have to repeat everything? “You do manage this camp, do you not?”

“I manage the workload. We used to have a site manager, but here lately, ain’t no one can manage this camp but the sheriff.”

“Told you to sell,” Regi said beneath his breath.

“I appreciate your situation, Mr. Grimshaw,” Lily said, ignoring her cousin’s gloating smile. “I assure you we can find all we need if you’ll just show us where to look.”

“Time cards would do,” said Johnson. “Any documentation used to keep track of hours and pay rate.”

“Oh, yeah. We got all that up in the office.”

Irritation snapped at her nerves. Grimshaw was clearly the sort who only understood English spoken by a
man.
“Would you be so kind as to show us to the office?”

His twisted expression suggested he’d rather not.

“Cook sent your dinners.” A young boy darted in from outside. He held a tin plate covered by another in each hand.

“Set ’em over there on a bench and change the blades on table four.”

“I’ll help you take out the dull blades,” said Mathews, rushing off to assist the boy.

Lily watched the boy set the tin plates aside on a workbench and pull on a pair of heavy leather gloves. Cuts and scars covered his slender fingers.

“The boy works here?” she said to Grimshaw.

“A lot of our workers moved on to other lumber camps after the second pay hold. My oldest boy’s been helping to pick up the slack. Davy, say hello to Miss Carrington.”

His young face glanced up. He touched a gloved hand to the brim of his hat. “Ma’am,” he said before turning back to his task.

“Do we have an age limit for employees?”

Grimshaw’s eyes narrowed in clear annoyance. “He’s thirteen, a smart boy and a hard worker. We’ve had boys as young as ten work the flumes and other odd jobs.”

“I see,” she said, deciding to keep her disapproval to herself for now.

Grimshaw turned away, clearly agitated. “Office is this way.”

Lily motioned for Reginald and her men to follow him. As they filed up a set of stairs at the north end of the building, she glanced back at the boy lifting a circular saw from a spot on the wall. He seemed awfully young to be handling such dangerous equipment.

“Oh, hey,” he said brightly, peering out a wide-open section of the millhouse, “Günter’s back.”

“Who is Günter?” she asked, stepping toward him as she glanced through the thicket of trees.

“The deputy. That big Swede right there,” he said, pointing toward the camp, which now teemed with workers. A giant of a man with pure white hair stood out from the other men. “If he’s back in camp, Sheriff must be back, too.”

Just the man they needed. With the others already up in the mill office, this was her chance to ask the local lawman about any outlaws infiltrating her camp.

She hurried toward the path.

“Ma’am?” Davy called after her. “You like I should come with you?”

“I can manage,” she called back, thinking he ought to be in school where he could learn to speak proper English.

At the bottom of the hill, she discovered this was indeed a functioning camp. Hulking, sweaty men were everywhere, barking out orders, stacking boards, pulling chains, lifting crates—where had they all come from?

She stepped around a pile of logs, seemingly unnoticed by the men milling about like work ants.

Where had the deputy gone off to?

“Lady! Heads up!”

Lily turned toward the sharp call, just as something struck the side of her head. In a flash of pain and bright light, the world went dark.

J
uniper surveyed the growing circle of men as he tethered his horse outside the cabin serving as the Pine Ridge Lumber Camp jailhouse. Only two things drew such a crowd. There wasn’t enough rooting and shouting going on for it to be a fight.

Someone had smuggled a woman into camp.

Cursing beneath his breath, he started toward what could well turn into a riot. He didn’t get paid enough for this job. Hell, just like the rest of the camp, he hadn’t been paid in nearly two months. He needed to get down the mountain and check on John’s widow. His friend’s death was the most recent of fatalities in a lumber camp sliding downhill at an alarming pace.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” one of the men said as Juniper nudged his way past him and into a strum of murmuring voices.

“What’s going on?” he asked, working through the crowd of men. Just as he’d suspected, he spotted pale skin and colorful ruffles through the shifting veil of bodies. Women weren’t allowed up at the lumber camp for one obvious reason—they tended to bring out the worst in lonely, rowdy timbermen. To his immediate alarm, she seemed to already be in a horizontal position.

Good God.

He shoved his way through, then drew to a hard stop.

What the hell?

A pretty lady lay unconscious on a spot of open ground. The woman’s peaceful expression and fancy prim attire shocked him far more than any display of indecency. The men surrounding her seemed just as stunned, none of them daring to go within a foot of her.

Juniper knelt beside her and pressed his fingers to her slender neck where her pulse beat strong and steady. A sigh of relief broke from his chest.

She sure didn’t look like a prostitute or a destitute wife who’d come up here to find out why her husband hadn’t brought home his much-needed earnings. Her green velvet waistcoat, matching leather gloves and colorful fancy skirt had a look of wealth about them. What was she doing way up here?

“What happened?” he demanded, glaring up at the others.

“I didn’t mean to hit her, Sheriff.” Slim, one of the log drivers, stepped forward. He twisted his hat in his hands, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at the woman. “I was moving a load.”

“She ain’t dead, is she, Sheriff?” someone asked.

“No,” he said, sliding his fingers into reddish-blond hair, knocking out hairpins as his fingers moved through the silken mass, searching her scalp for damage. He didn’t feel any fractures. A good-size lump protruded from the right side of her head.

“Where’d she come from?” he asked, glancing around the circle.

“I looked ’round and there she was,” said Slim. “I shouted a warning, and she turned straight into the log.” He clucked his tongue. “Knocked her right out.”

Dainty as she was, he was afraid to move her, unsure if the blow had jarred her spine.

“I want to know what she’s doing here,” he shouted. “Who does she belong to?”

Murmurs went through the crowd, every man looking to another.

“No one was with her?” he said to Slim.

“Not so far as I could see, but I wasn’t lookin’ beyond the path of that log.”

She moaned, and the group fell silent. The circle around Juniper drew tighter as the men leaned in.

“Miss?” Juniper brushed a finger across her petal-soft cheek. Long auburn lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes. The smallest rim of green lined the dilated centers.

She shifted, pushing her elbows up beneath her as she started to sit up. Long shiny hair tumbled to her shoulders in a shimmer of russet and gold. “I…” She winced, her eyes pinching shut. “My…”

Juniper quickly slid his hand beneath her head as she dropped back down.

“Easy, sweetheart.”

She blinked up at him. Her lips tipped with a smile.

Juniper’s mouth went dry. She sure was pretty.

“Oh my,” she said, sounding breathless.

“You’ve taken a swift hit to the head.”

“I must have.” Her eyelids drooped.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Lily.”

Lily.
What was this sweet, delicate flower doing way up here? Her weight relaxed against his palm.

“Lily? Can you hear me?
Lily?
”

She didn’t stir.

Definitely a concussion. She’d moved enough to assure him nothing was broken. Needing to get her out of the sun and away from all the onlookers, he slid his arms beneath her shoulders and the bulk of her skirt. As he straightened, something solid jabbed against his ribs. He shifted her against him, firming his hold on her, and was pretty damn sure he felt the outline of a revolver packed into the green and blue folds of her skirt.

At least she had enough sense to travel armed.

He glanced up at the crowd of woodsmen. “Anyone willing to claim her?”

The eager expressions of the men told him that was about the stupidest question he could have asked.

“I will!” shouted one.

“I’ll take her off your hands, Sheriff,” called another.

He shook his head and carried her toward his office. Whatever her reasons for coming up here, riling the interest of a bunch of salivating lumberjacks was only going to get her into more trouble than she could handle.

“Find Marty and Günter,” he said to no one in particular. “Tell them to hightail it to my office.”

“You
arresting
her?” someone shouted after him.

“
I sure am!
She’s breaking Pine Ridge law by being here. When I find out who’s responsible for bringing her up here, he’ll be packing his gear.”

“Juniper?” His deputy hurried toward him. “She hurt?” Günter rushed ahead to open the door of the sheriff’s office.

“Most likely a concussion,” he said, hoping that was the worst of her injuries. He carried her inside and carefully stepped into one of the two jail cells.

“Who is she?”

“Hell if I know. Go see if you can find Marty,” he said, placing her on a fairly clean cot. “I’d feel better if he had a look at her head before we send her down the mountain.”

As the door shut behind his deputy, Juniper slid his hand into Lily’s skirt pocket. Just as he’d suspected, his fingers closed over a gun. Expecting a dainty Derringer or stylish Colt, the .44 Smith & Wesson surprised him. A right decent weapon by his standards and any man’s whose life depended on speed and accuracy. The plain wooden grip showed signs of heavy use, some of the varnish having worn through. He opened the cylinder, noting the empty first chamber and clean barrel. To his relief, the use hadn’t been recent.

He glanced again at the woman. She seemed far too delicate to be carrying such a thing. Not that he blamed her for packing iron in such rough country, but why in creation would she have come all the way up here with nothing but a hard-used pistol in her pocket?

Leaving her in the cell, he tugged off his hat and tossed the brown Stetson onto his desk. He set the lady’s revolver on a stack of reports. Crouching before the cabinet that held a pitcher and washbasin, he took out a clean towel. After pouring some water into the white basin, he dunked in the cloth, wrung it out and went back to Lily.

Such a tiny little thing,
he thought as he knelt beside her. Not much over five feet, and he’d bet ten pounds of her slight weight was sheer clothing, her full skirt fluffed up by a stack of petticoats. He laid the cool wet cloth over the bump hidden beneath her hair and stepped back.

She seemed comfortable enough, though her fitted jacket did look rather constrictive. He wondered if he should open the high collar. He reached for the pearl buttons, then decided against it.

“Wake up, pretty lady.”

Günter stomped into the cabin. “Marty went up to check a bad-tempered ox. I sent a man after him.”

Juniper released a sigh of disappointment. “All right. As soon as he gets back, send him over.”

“Da.” Günter poked his head inside the jail cell, taking a closer look at Lily. “Pretty, ya?”

“Yeah. A regular sleeping beauty. Go on and get some chow before Cook closes the kitchen.”

Günter didn’t hesitate. Once Cook locked his doors there’d be no chance of getting a hot meal. “I’ll bring you a plate.”

Juniper wasn’t sure when they expected him to eat—he’d hardly slept in a week. Between gun-toting damsels, renegade lumberjacks, crazed oxen and L. P. Carrington’s latest notice starting riots all over this mountain, he had more trouble than he could handle. The sheriff’s office had somehow become the headquarters for company complaints. Much more of this and he’d be making a trip to ’Frisco for a little one-on-one with L. P. Carrington. The man clearly had more money than smarts.

Work had been rendered, timber cut and hauled off the mountain. These men needed their wages, not letters asking for patience while some overstuffed suit polished his coins.

He leaned down and stroked a few strands of reddish-blond hair away from Lily’s face. Her long auburn lashes rested peacefully against her fair skin.

He had a hunch he wasn’t the only one on the warpath. This wouldn’t be the first time a scorned lover had shown up at the lumber camp with a pistol in her pocket. If that was the case, one of their lumberjacks had been a right lucky man.

Lily woke with a dull headache.

She didn’t bother to open her eyes, not wanting to increase the throbbing in her skull. She needed hot chocolate. Reaching out, she blindly searched for the servant bell on her night table, yet the table eluded her.

“Emily?” she called.

“Whoever Emily is,” said a low, smooth voice, “it’s fair to say she ain’t comin’.”

Lily sat bolt upright. She barely caught a glimpse of the man moving toward her before her brain seemed to slam forward, pounding stars into her eyes.

She swayed. “Oh, my goodness.”

“Easy, now.” Warm hands closed over her shoulders and eased her back down. “You took a swift blow to the head.”

Eyes of the palest blue gazed down at her. She had a vague recollection of peering up into those cerulean depths once before.

“How’s the eyesight?” he asked.

Her gaze moved over his tanned features, sharp jawline and wavy blond hair with startling clarity. He held one hand up, two of his long fingers creating a vee.

“How many fingers do you see?”

“Two,” she said, smiling despite her headache. She sat up, slowly this time, and leaned back against the wall.

His swift smile didn’t help her wooziness. The handsome stranger eased back. Light glinted off the silver star pinned to his dark leather vest.

The sheriff.
She glanced past him and noticed the metal bars.

“Am I in
jail?
”

Warm throaty laugher drew her gaze back to sparkling blue eyes. Flutters erupted low in her belly. She definitely remembered him, and was quite certain she’d found him just as striking the first time she’d looked into those sky-blue eyes.

A sudden heat flooded her face, and Lily averted her gaze.

“You’re getting some color back in your cheeks,” he said, which only increased the heat flaring into her face.

Good gracious.
Lily Carrington did not swoon over men!

Glancing back at the sheriff, she now knew why. Lily Carrington had never been in the presence of a man like the sheriff of the Pine Ridge Lumber Camp.

He took a step back, his broad shoulders seeming to block out the rest of the world as he leaned against the metal door frame. He crossed his law-enforcing arms over his strong chest, creating a formidable barrier between her and the open doorway of the cell.

“Mind telling me what you’re doing up here, Lily?”

Her eyes surged wide. How did he know her name?

“Don’t remember telling me your name?”

“No,” she said, lightly touching the tender spot on the side of her head. “I’m not even sure how I ended up in here.”

Golden eyebrows pinched inward, a look of concern narrowing his eyes. “Do you know where you’re at?”

“The Pine Ridge Lumber Camp.”

He smiled at her answer. The reaction caused an alarming effect on her pulse.

“Yes, ma’am. How many women do you reckon we have here at the lumber camp?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

“None. Do you know why, Lily?”

“No.”

“Same reason this logging camp has to employ its own sheriff. It’s not safe. I have enough work cut out for me without our rowdy crews fighting over a woman.”

She certainly wasn’t a woman willing to be fought over! “This is all a terrible misunderstanding. I’ve come to Pine Ridge on business.”

“I am aware.” The corners of his mouth slid upward again, and Lily was quite certain she’d never known a more handsome man with such a charming disposition. “Or was that pistol in your pocket purely for protection?”

Her mouth dropped open. Her hand slid to her empty skirt pocket.

“It’s on my desk.”

Her gaze darted to the side. Her father’s gun sat atop a stack of papers on the sheriff’s desk.

Oh, dear.

“If that revolver wasn’t so polished, I’d worry about the missing bullet.”

Lily groaned and slumped back onto the cot.

“Lily, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

She stared into his gentle blue eyes and wondered if he used such charm to interrogate all his prisoners.

“I can’t cut you loose in this lumber camp, but if you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”

Yes, perhaps he could. “I’m—”

“Sheriff Barns!”

He glanced over his shoulder as Davy burst in through the door.

“What is it, Davy?”

“Barns?”
said Lily.

The sheriff looked back at her, and Lily realized she’d spoken the name aloud. “That’s right,” he said. “Juniper Barns.”

Lily couldn’t draw her next breath. His narrowing blue eyes suggested her expression revealed her shock.

He can’t be.

“Well, heck. You already found her,” Davy said before stepping back outside.

Sheriff Barns didn’t take his eyes off her, eyes that didn’t seem quite so warm and gentle as a moment ago. “Heard of me, have you?”

He wasn’t much older than her,
far too young.
She’d been only twelve years of age when her father had been killed, nearly thirteen years ago.