The Lady and the Lawman (15 page)

“
All
right, so I can now see why someone would be after you for your
money,” he conceded.

“
Yes,
it appears William has wanted my money for years. With my father
dead, he all but forced me into an engagement. He certainly didn’t
ask me to marry him.” She shivered at the thought. “I had
absolutely no choice in the matter since he's also my guardian.”
She started to pace. “The wedding was to take place shortly after I
found Mr. Hornby’s advertisement.”

“
So
you ran away to protect yourself from this Hunt character?” Grant
moved the tray from his lap and placed it next to him on the bed.

“
As
best I could.” She nodded. “I had no choice. I wanted to marry
for love.”

“
And
you figured you’d find love with this man, Hornby?”

She
crossed her arms over her ample breasts, a contrary look on her
beautiful face.

Button,
please pop free, he thought.

“
There
was a chance I could love him after I became acquainted with him.
With William, there was no hope.”

Her
logic seeme
d
reasonable, considering a man was planning on killing her off, but to
tempt a different kind of danger by traveling across the country
alone? Couldn't she have contacted the local police? He wanted to
take her over his knee and paddle some sense into her backside. “Your
actions were valid, u
nder
the circumstances,” he conceded. “But traveling alone? Woman,
have you lost your mind?”

“
I
didn’t have any choice,” she whispered. Grant had to lean in to
hear her.

No,
she probably didn’t. What woman would want to be shackled to a
loveless marriage for all eternity? Or dead within a week of the
wedding vows? “But marrying Tom? Why?”

“
I’m
not that bad of a catch,” Tom interjected, one brow raised. “Hunt
wants her money. Even as guardian, the only way he can get it is to
marry her. Then he gets it all. Every penny. If she were to marry
someone else, they would have full control. Hunt couldn’t touch it.
Ever.”

Grant
looked to Maggie, considering their plan. It wasn't a bad one under
the circumstances. “And what about your friend, Mr. Hornby?”

“
I’m
going to send him a telegram and tell him I’ve changed my mind.”

Good.
It seemed Grant’s competition were falling like flies b
eneath
a switch.

Tom
and Maggie had the situation all resolved, and that irked him. He’d
protected her from Croft and Dalton. He’d gotten her out of the
brothel unscathed. And he was the one who was supposed to protect
her. It was his job to do so. Not Tom’s. This damn bullet wound was
messing everything up.

***

The
next day, Grant finally felt up to leaving the confines of his
childhood bedroom. The walls had practically shrunk in on him, the
bed small and uncomfortable for a man his size. After the long week
he’d had, he doubted he’d ever step foot in the space again. His
leg sore, he favored it as he carefully went down the steps to the
kitchen.

There
had been no change from either Maggie or Tom with their plans to wed
and that irked him to no end. That news alone was impetus enough to
heal as fast as possible. It was almost impossible to sit with the
duo over breakfast. Like hell they were in love. They sat next to
each other like brother and sister, not two lovebirds trying
everything in their power to keep their hands to themselves. Hell,
Grant doubted they'd even kissed. Grant met Tom as he washed the
breakfast dishes.

“
Where’s
Maggie?”

“
Out
in the stable feeding the horses some apples.”

“
She’ll
spoil them rotten and they won’t like us anymore.”

Tom
only laughed as he placed a plate on the drying board.

Tired
of remaining idle for so long, he pushed Tom aside. “I’ll do
these for you.” He took one of his mother’s china plates from
Tom.

“
You
should change your bandage.”

Grant
stopped and looked at his brother, his gaze nothing along the lines
of brotherly. “The wound’s fine. Leave me be.” The dull ache in
his leg continued to bother him, but he knew it wouldn’t become
infected. The other dull throb, somewhere in the vicinity of his
heart, was a different matter altogether. “The wedding’s still
on?” Fragile china clattered against the sturdy sink.

“
Yes.
We were thinking next Sunday after church services.”

Grant
dunked another plate into the soapy wat
er
and scrubbed at it with more muscle than needed.

“
You’re
going to rub the pattern right off if you keep it up,” Tom replied,
laughter in his voice.

Grant
glared at his brother. What was he so cheerful about? Right, Maggie.
His Maggie and wedding bells. He picked up a dishtowel and threw it
at him. They worked together in silence finishing up in the kitchen,
washing and drying the remaining dishes. When they were done, they
moved to the porch. Conversation turned to Maggie and how Grant had
rescued her from Croft.

“
I
had no idea Croft would stoop this low, using an innocent woman like
Maggie.” Grant looked into the distance as he spoke. There was flat
waving grass as far as he could see, cows idly grazing.

“
Weren’t
you going to use her too, if she hadn’t held your gun to your
head?”

Tom’s
words stung. He’d been more than ready to have his way with Maggie.
Hell, he still was. It was the use of a gun, his gun, which prevented
it.

“
You
know me well enough to know I wouldn’t have taken her upstairs at
Croft’s if I’d known the truth from the start.”

“
I
know, I know. Calm down,” Tom placated, crossing one booted foot
over the other. “Who do you think the men were who held up the
stage?”

Grant
was relieved to change topics. He considered the question for several
minutes, and shook his head. “Croft only gave the name Roy. I think
he knows more and I have a feeling Dalton’s involved somehow. Just
a gut feeling. There’s no proof, yet. I just have to put all the
pieces together. And Maggie’s the only one who can help me.”

“
Yes,
you’re right, she is. In the meantime, I think she’ll be safest
here.”

“
That
was my thought, too.” Grant brushed unseen dirt off his jeans with
a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “But I need her in town with me to
help catch these men. I owe it to Arden to find his killers. She
should go to town with me.” Grant heard the finality in his tone.

“
And
you think you’re the best man to protect her?” Tom crossed his
arms over his chest.
Grant leaned against the porch railing,
holding on to the wooden trim. “Damn right, I am. I’m the sheriff
here!”

“
Hmmm.”

“
What
the hell does that mean?” Grant started to pace the expanse of the
porch, limping slightly. He saw a smile hint at the corners of Tom’s
lips.

“
As
her future husband, that role falls to me.”

Grant
stopped in his tracks. He was outraged at the idea of another man
protecting her, having thoughts about her like he did. Even from his
brother. He didn’t say a word. His jealousy held him silent.

“
She’s
a beautiful woman, if you haven’t noticed,” Tom continued.

Grant
gave Tom a look able to cut weaker men down.

Tom
grinned.

The
discussion was over as far as Grant was concerned. He stepped
carefully off the porch and headed toward the stable.

“
Grant!”
Tom yelled.

He
turned around and walked back to look up at his brother, still
standing on the porch.

“
You
have one week. Then she’s mine.”

“
Like
hell she is,” Grant muttered to himself as he strode to the stable
in search of Maggie.

CHAPTER
SIX

Their
departure was unexpected and swift. One minute Margaret was feeding
the horses lumps of sugar, the next she was riding away from the
ranch. Grant had saddled a horse for her and they rode side-by-side.
Her head was still spinning from the speed with which he moved once
he made a decision. He'd given her little time to grab a hat she
borrowed from his sister, along with the skirt and blouse she wore,
and share a quick farewell to Tom.

Tom
had been surprised by the swiftness of their actions as well, but not
the fact that his fiancé was leaving him behind. Grant must have
told him of their departure before he'd sought her out. Tom had
gently run a hand up and down her arm, smiling at her as they said
their good-byes, promising to see her in town the following day.

His
touch, though, had done nothing for her. She felt...nothing...at the
brush of his hand. Regardless, she should marry Tom. He was reliable,
kind, hardworking, thoughtful…everything a woman looked for in a
man. Just one glace, one look from Grant, however, sent shivers down
her spine. Why did one man, who had the personality of an irritated
porcupine, make her feel things she never knew possible?

She
was confused and scared. Confused by the reaction of her body. Scared
by the exact same thing. Why couldn't she have these feelings for a
perfectly normal, quill-free man?

“
We
could have stayed at the ranch until the wedding,” she offered,
longing for the sanctuary. “Tom didn’t mind.”

Grant
shifted in his saddle to look at her, his eyes dark, his jaw
clenched. “I’m sure he didn’t,” he muttered, barely loud
enough for her to hear. “There’s no way you’re staying at the
ranch a minute longer.”

Someone
had a burr in their backside, or whatever it was Tom had said about
his brother while he'd been recuperating. The metaphor was apt then,
and now. “Is something bothering you?”

He
sighed, but it sounded almost like a growl. “I need your help to
identify the man who robbed the stage. We'll head to the place it
happened on the way into town. Then we'll get you settled into the
boarding house.”

His
shoulders shifted with the loping gait of his horse, reminding her of
his strength, how broad he was.

“
I
don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll try.” Bad memories
of the robbery came flooding back and she shivered, even in the warm
sunshine. She had no interest in reliving the grisly events, but if
she could help him catch the stage driver’s killers, and her
kidnapper, it would be worth it.

***

Grant's
wound was an annoying dull throb hours later when they mounted their
horses to head to town from the overturned stage. He knew Maggie
hadn’t been keen on leaving Tom’s ranch to return to the scene of
the crime, hesitant to leave the safety it provided, but she’d been
brave and determined to help find Bill’s killers.

He'd
been equally uninspired to make her relive the gruesome events, but
there were limited options. It was imperative he collect all details,
all evidence that might be able to bring in the killer and she was
his star—and only—witness. His weeklong delay in bed had done
nothing to help solve the crime.

After
going over what happened step by step, his fury at her attempted rape
was reignited. They stood in the bright sunshine beside the broken
stage, a soft breeze blowing but unable to cut the glaring heat. He
lifted his hat and raked the back of his hand over his brow. She’d
been so lucky to have kneed the bastard in the balls,
otherwise...well, he’d rather not think of it.