The Lady and the Lawman (10 page)

“
Now
Sheriff, no need to go that far,” Croft replied, putting his two
hands up. “She's not worth all this trouble. I only bought her for
fifty dollars. She's not even worth that.”

Grant
ignored the man’s insult, otherwise he might do something he might
regret. “I want a name and I want it now. No more stalling.”

Croft
sighed and cut the charade. Grant didn't need to explain who he was
talking about. Croft would tell him, even if he had to break the
bastard’s nose to do it. “I don’t know much about him. All I
know is he said his name was Roy.”

“
He’s
been here before?”

“
Once
or twice.” Croft wedged a cigar between his lips.

“
Where
can I find him?”

Croft
shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Grant
eyed him, disbelieving. Croft knew all the shifty characters for
fifty miles around.

“
Honest.
He’s not from around here.”

“
If
I find out you’ve kept anything from me, you’ll be serving
whiskey from a jail cell.” He really should just punch him. Grant
knew he'd feel so much better after. But he had Maggie to deal with,
and he didn't need her to see any of his violent tendencies, even if
it was derived from a fierce need to protect her.

Grant
turned to leave, Maggie in tow.

“
Hey,
what about her?” Croft shouted.

“
Exactly,
Croft, what about her?”

Croft
held up his hand, showing them the door, knowing he wouldn’t win
this game either. Grant pulled Maggie out the door, through the
saloon and out into the night.

CHAPTER
FOUR

Relief
flooded Margaret like a swollen river breaking a levy. Fresh air,
mixed with a tinge of horse manure, assailed her as she moved away
from the double saloon doors. The cool air felt like heaven against
her skin. The very idea of idea of being outside, away from that
prison of a building, brough
t
tears t
o
her eyes. She was like a watering pot. It seemed she couldn't stop
crying. Following the sheriff to one of the hitching posts in front
of the building, she tried to pull herself together, blinked hard and
said, “I can ride by myself.”

“
You
ride with me.” His stern tone was one she was already familiar
with. One that meant there was no arguing.

Still,
she fumed. Away from the nauseating smell of sweaty men and spilled
liquor, she was more than eager to leave the saloon behind—and more
than ready to get assertive about it. “I’ll have you know I am
considered an accomplished equestrienne.”

“
Equestrienne?
What the hell is that?” he questioned, sarcasm lacing his words.

She
groaned. Why did the sheriff have to be such a...man? Stubborn,
opinionated, domineering. Attractive. Even in the dim light that
crept from the windows, the man's strong jaw, brawny frame exuded
manliness. Deep down, that elemental sense that made her a woman, was
drawn to the sheriff, like a moth to flame.

“
You
know very well what I mean, so stop poking fun. I’ve been riding
since I was four years old. I can handle myself in a saddle quite
well, thank you very much.”

He
strolled past her, unhitched a beautiful black Arabian and led it
over to his, loosely tethering it to his saddle. “Just like you
handled my gun in there?”

Her
cheeks burned. It was insufferable of him to bring that up. “Guns,
no. Horses, yes. Besides, I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t
know you and I had to escape before, well, before....” She looked
to the sheriff, his shadow in darkness beneath his hat, as he untied
his own horse from the post.

“
You
still don’t know anything about me,” he replied calmly.

He
did have her there.

She
knew deep down his was a good man. If he wasn't she'd be beneath him
in that dirty bed right now.

“
True,
but you really didn’t give me many options, thus the gun to the
head,” she countered, her voice contrary.

“
Exactly.
And I’m not giving you any options now. You either ride with me, or
I leave you here.” He checked the cinch and flipped down the
stirrup.

“
Why?”

The
din from the saloon spilled out the closed doors behind her. She
jumped practically out of her skin when several men slammed the door
shut behind them and headed down the boardwalk. From their unsteady
gait and rowdiness, she could tell they’d had their fill of drink,
and probably women.

Her
choice was easy. There was no way she’d walk back into Croft’s
under her own steam. Someone would have to conk her on the head
again. She shivered at the very thought.

The
truth was, she had other reasons for not wanting to ride with him.
Sheriff or not, she’d never been kissed quite like that before, let
alone touched so intimately. What William had done to her hadn't been
intimate. It had been one sided and clinical.

This
had been different. The thought of her breast being exposed to his
gaze, to his touch, was embarrassing and enticing at the same time.
The sheriff’s closeness, the feelings his touch aroused upstairs
barely minutes ago, scared her. Was she supposed to have these
feelings, these longings, for a complete stranger? Why had she been
repulsed by William, whom she'd known for years, but craved the
sheriff's attentions after knowing him all of five minutes?

What
was wrong with her?

All
her Philadelphia friends had told her she wasn’t supposed to enjoy
associations with men. It was something to be endured, and that was
exactly what she'd done with William. But she did enjoy—no,
savored—Grant Masterson’s touch. She knew riding with him would
only bring back the sensations she was trying very hard to forget.

“
Why?
Because I said so.”

“
I’m
not a little girl, Sheriff, ” she countered.

“
Ma’am,
I’m more than aware of that.”

His
gaze lowered to his star, still pinned haphazardly on her dress. She
felt her cheeks flare, remembering what he'd seen and done at
Croft’s. And more surprisingly, how she'd responded.

“
Come
on, let’s get going.” He’d already climbed up into the saddle
and held his hand out for her. She took it and kept her anger, her
embarrassment to herself. He placed her in front of him, her legs
straddling the horse in tandem with his. After wiggling her hips to
get comfortable, shyness shot through her as she felt how snugly they
fit together, her bottom and back pressed firmly against his solid
chest and further down his body. Dear God, those specific areas of
his anatomy...he was hard...everywhere. His arms circled her,
engulfing her as he held the reins, his muscled biceps pressing into
her shoulders.

This
was exactly why she wanted to ride on her own. She was too close. Too
close to the man, to all of the man, who was the first to truly touch
her, to ignite a spark she never knew existed. This closeness put her
on edge.

“
Hmmph.”

“
What
are you grunting about now?” he asked on a sigh.

“
I’ll
have you know a lady doesn’t grunt.”

He
sighed again in response. “All right, what was that sound for?”

“
I
was just thinking there’s really no point in forcing me to ride
with you.” She twisted around the sheriff's large form to look at
the animal tethered to their mount. “There’s a perfectly good
horse back there.”

His
arms tightened around her
like
a vice, all but forcing her to face forward.

“
Maggie,
winning Dalton’s horse didn’t mean I won his saddle, and there’s
no way you can ride it without one.”

She
opened her mouth, ready to tell the stubborn man she was more than
capable to ride bareback. “But...”

He
tensed behind her and she quieted. Clearly he didn’t want a woman
arguing with him. God only knew what the sheriff would do when he
became angry. She'd seen a glimpse of his irritation when he argued
with Croft. He'd held his anger in check. Then. But if she riled his
temper,
really
stirred
it, would he hit her? There was no way to set him straight about her
riding abilities without the chance of reprisal. Pride, and fear,
kept her from telling him he was wrong.
Fine!
Let the man have his way.

The
horse’s slow gait made her bruised bottom smart. Wiggling and
shifting, she tried to get comfortable in Grant’s lap.

“
Would
you sit still?” he all but growled.

He
circled her with his arms once again around her waist and rested his
chin on the top of her head. Barely
able to move, there was nothing left for her to do but think. She was
in the arms of a stranger, riding through the night to God knows
where. Was she really safer with Sheriff Grant Masterson?

Trust
didn’t come easily to her, but did she have any alternative with
him? He could have forced himself on her, but he hadn’t. He could
have left her at Croft’s to fend for herself. Again, he hadn’t.
He was a bit ornery, like a bear poked with a stick during
hibernation, but had protected her when she'd needed it. Like he’d
said, it was his job. That was at least something in the man’s
favor. At this point, she couldn’t do much else but trust him.

She
felt safe. Lulled. No man had ever held her like this before,
sheltered her. No matter her reservations regarding a man, a
stranger, she had to admit that it felt good. Really, really good.

“
Um,
where are we going?”

“
To
my brother’s ranch.”

The
sheriff didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist, so she
leaned back against him, feeling the hard muscles in his chest work
with the motions of the horse, lulling her to sleep.

The
first rumblings of trouble galloped across the moonlit prairie,
awakening her. He cursed.

She
looked to him, but his face was cast in shadow. He reined in the
horse quickly, and kept her secure with an arm around her waist. The
animal nickered, either disappointed in stopping or sensing the
approaching danger.

Pulling
his gun from his holster, he turned the horse around to face the
danger she could feel mounting by the tenseness of his muscles, in
his harsh breathing.

She
grabbed him. Her fingers would have dug into his flesh, but the
muscles in his f
orearms
were hard like thick branches. Peering around his large frame, there
was no visible sign of the approaching men in the darkness. She
wanted to curse herself at the inconvenience of her hair, the long
strands obstructing her view. But once she brushed it from her eyes,
it still was too dark to see anything.

He
lifted his hand
and she got a good look at his gun glinting in the moonlight. It was
the second time in a few short hours she’d seen it up close. This
time, gulping down her fear, she hoped it wouldn’t be put to use.

It
sounded as though the entire U.S. Cavalry approached, although she
had no illusions they would be so lucky. Shapes of men and their
horses were vaguely captured by the moonlight.

“
I
can’t see who they are,” she said, worried.

“
Hell,”
he answered, distracted. “I can barely see you.”