“You can’t arrest me, sir,” she told him, unmoving. “I didn’t break any laws.”

“Intent is reason enough for me to take you in for questioning.”

She tossed her head and the moonlight shimmered from dark hair, turning her skin to palest ivory, even as her eyes glittered with the reflection of starlight. “Hard up for a woman?” she asked softly.

“Now that you mention it,” he returned quietly, “I am…a little.”

“There’s no little about it,” she countered, “Either you’re on the prowl for a handy female, or you’re not.” Her chin lifted, a challenge he’d not thought to hear spewing from her lips.

“If you touch me, I swear I’ll kill you, Mr. Lawman. You can toss me in your jail cell if you like, but you better have a damn good reason for doing it.”

She was either a very brave woman or totally without good sense…!

Acclaim for Carolyn Davidson’s recent titles

The Marriage Agreement

“Davidson uses her considerable skills to fashion a

plausible, first-class marriage-of-convenience romance.”

—Romantic Times

Texas Gold

“Davidson delivers a story fraught with sexual tension.”

—Romantic Times

A Marriage by Chance

“This deftly written novel about loss and recovery

is a skillful handling of the traditional Western,

with the added elements of family conflict

and a moving love story.”

—Romantic Times

The Tender Stranger

“Davidson wonderfully captures gentleness in

the midst of heart-wrenching challenges, portraying

the extraordinary possibilities that exist within

ordinary marital love.”

—Publishers Weekly

Texas Lawman
Carolyn Davidson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Erin and Bob Bittner, two of the lawmen of this day and age, who also happen to be very near and dear to my heart—this book is dedicated. May you find happiness together as you begin your walk through life as man and wife, and may God’s face shine upon you in all the years to come.

And to Mr. Ed, manager and husband of the year—every year—who loves me.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

Benning, Texas

April 10, 1901

H e drew his gun and lifted it before him, sighting down the barrel to where his prey stood beneath a tree, in a gladed area on the northern side of town. Revealed in the moonlight by a stray break in the clouds overhead, the figure was unmoving, a pale shirt and dark trousers fitting the slender form like a glove.

The flow of dark hair gave away her gender. That, and the narrow waist that was belted snugly, emphasizing the rounded hips that filled a pair of trousers almost to bursting.

“I can see your badge. Go ahead and shoot, Sheriff,” she said quietly, the sound carrying to where he stood. “Shall I step forward and give you a better target?”

Brace Caulfield lowered his gun. “Damn.” The single word was uttered in disgust—the vehemence aimed at himself as he stuffed his weapon into the holster that was tied to his thigh. “Walk over here, lady,” he said harshly. “You pret’ near got yourself shot just now.”

The woman obeyed slowly. Perhaps, he decided, to prove to him that it was her choice alone that prompted her movements. Stepping carefully over the hillocks in the clearing, glancing down at where she walked, she approached him and then halted, not quite within his reach.

“Who are you?” His voice was strong, the tones strident, for the mere seconds during which he’d sighted her down the length of his gun barrel had shaken his composure. Never had his weapon been aimed at a woman, and his anger rose against the female who had caused him to do so.

“You don’t need to know,” she said quietly. “I won’t be here any longer than it takes to round up my horse and climb on.”

“What were you doing in town scouting out the back door of the hotel?” he asked.

He’d seen her there first—just a glimpse of a man, he’d thought—wearing a light-colored shirt. Now he recognized that the pale fabric held the lush curves of a woman’s bosom. A woman full grown. Not the youthful creature he’d thought her to be when he’d taken her measure for the second time, just moments since.

“Nothing illegal,” she answered. “I was looking for someone.”

“Most folks use the front door,” he said bluntly. “You have a problem with that?”

“The man I was watching for didn’t want to be seen. I knew if he left the hotel it would be from the rear entrance.”

He propped his hand against his hip, just above the gun that weighed heavily against his leg. His eyes narrowed as he listened to her explanation, and his tone was rasping as he spoke. “You were looking for a man.”

It was a statement of fact and she merely shrugged, not prone, it seemed, to offer any more information than she already had.

“Who?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the sound somehow more threatening.

“I’m not sure you need to know that,” she said. “If you’re going to shoot me, go ahead. Otherwise, you have no reason to stop me from mounting my horse and leaving town.”

“You left your animal behind when you ran off,” he pointed out, one long finger tipping his hat back a bit. And then that finger pointed to his right, where lights glowed from a string of establishments along the street that centered town. “He’s tied to a hitching rail in front of the general store.”

She bit at her lip, looking in the direction he pointed. “Who did that?”

“My deputy. I figured you’d be back to get the mare, and Jamie’s keeping an eye out, waiting for you to show up.”

She turned abruptly and stalked away. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would I?”

He kept pace with her, allowing her to stride in front of him, wondering why he hadn’t recognized immediately that the slender form he’d followed between buildings and behind the newspaper office, almost to the woods, was not a man at all. He was certainly having no problem now sorting out the difference between her womanly form and that of a male.

She walked down the sidewalk beside the dark stores, past the saloon where music and loud voices carried over and under the swinging doors to clash in a raucous symphony of sound. The general store was dark, the proprietor gone for the night, and in front of his establishment stood a mare, saddled and ready to ride.

“Did you find the man?” Brace asked the woman as she stepped down to release her mare from the hitching rail.

She turned to face him, reins in her hand. “No. If I had, you’d have heard a gunshot, Sheriff. I’d have killed him.” With a quick move she was in the saddle, and Brace took a long stride toward her, reaching for her reins.

“Whoa, lady. You can’t make a statement like that and then just ride away.”

“You can’t arrest me, sir,” she told him, unmoving, as if she would not put her mare’s mouth in jeopardy by fighting for the reins he held. “I didn’t break any laws.”

“Intent is reason enough for me to take you in for questioning.”

She tossed her head, and the moonlight shimmered from dark hair, turning her skin to palest ivory, even as her eyes glittered with the reflection of starlight. “Hard up for a woman?” she asked softly.

“Now that you mention it,” he returned quietly, “I am…a little.”

“There’s no little about it,” she countered. “Either you’re on the prowl for a handy female, or you’re not.” Her chin rose, and a challenge he’d not thought to hear spewed from her lips. “If you touch me, I swear I’ll kill you, Mr. Lawman. You can toss me in your jail cell if you like, but you’d better have a damn good reason for doing it.”

Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she faced him down, and he felt unbidden admiration for the courage she displayed. She was either a very brave woman or totally without good sense, defying a lawman with the ability to put her in a cell and throw away the key. Not that he was likely to do such a thing, but the temptation was there.

For if he placed her in custody, he’d have a chance to find out something about her—he’d have a day or so, perhaps, to dig deep into her reasons for being in Benning, Texas.

“I can’t allow a woman to go riding off alone in the dark without someone to look after her,” he said bluntly. “Unless you’re willing to tell me who you are and what’s going on here, I can’t let you leave. Your gentleman friend may very well be watching us even now, just waiting for a chance to snatch you up.”

She laughed, a bitter sound, and shook her head. “He won’t be coming near me. He doesn’t know I’m here. I’ve been following him for the past two weeks, and when I saw him ride into Benning this morning I followed. He left his horse at the livery stable and went into the hotel before noon. I’ve been watching ever since.”

“I didn’t see you,” Brace said. “And I pretty much know everything that goes on in this town.”

“If I don’t want to be seen, I can always find a hole to crawl into,” she told him. “I’m not afraid to be on my own, and I don’t want to take a chance on Les—” She inhaled sharply.

“Is that his name?” Brace asked. “Les?” He frowned consideringly. “Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell with me. A stranger in town, you say?”

She glared at him, obviously angry with herself for giving away even that small bit of information. Her lips thinned, as if she would deny another word passage between them, and he shrugged as if he were baffled by her silence.

He reached up, gripping her elbow, catching her off balance. She jerked back, but to no avail. Brace Caulfield was a tall man, strong and well muscled, and a woman, no matter how tough she pretended to be, stood little chance of escaping his hold.

“You want to get down off that mare by yourself,” he asked, “or shall I help you?”

“Damn you,” she snarled. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Maybe not,” he said agreeably. “But I have a feeling that you’ll be safer with me than riding out of town at this time of night.” His grip on her arm tightened a bit and she shot him a look of pure venom, her face illuminated by the full moon that played hide-and-seek with drifting clouds overhead.

With ease she slid from her saddle and stood before him. “Now are you satisfied?” she asked.

“Not by a long shot, lady,” he murmured, and then watched as his deputy joined them in the middle of the street.

“I figured when I saw you trailin’ her you didn’t need me standin’ guard over that mare,” Jamie said, his attention fully on the female who stood between the two men.

“Well, you can come in handy right now,” Brace told him, handing him the reins and nodding toward the livery stable just down the street from the jailhouse.

The deputy led the mare away, and the woman watched as her horse disappeared inside the open door of the livery. “Come on inside,” Brace told her, then watched as the woman reluctantly crossed the threshold into the small office.

“Sit down,” he said, leading her to a chair and applying a bit of pressure to insure she obeyed his order. He reached to the lantern that hung over his desk and, scratching a match against his rear pocket, he lit the lamp, his eyes narrowing against the glare. Then, leaning against the edge of the desk, he removed his hat, placing it behind him in an automatic gesture. “Now talk,” he told her. “Your name first, if you please.”

She set her jaw stubbornly, and her glare was filled with defiance. “Sarah Murphy,” she said flatly. “Now can I leave?”

“Why are you on this fella’s trail, Miss Murphy?” Brace asked quietly, ignoring her query. She was mute, her lips tightly pressed together, and he watched her patiently, knowing that he could outlast any woman in the world when it came to remaining silent.

Her shoulders slumped a bit, but with a visible effort she lifted her head, meeting his gaze head-on. “He’s a monster, of the very worst kind.”

“What did he do?” Brace asked, careful not to raise his voice. Gentle probing might work best with a wary woman, he thought.

Sarah’s face became a mask of despair as he watched, and the words she spoke seemed to come from some bitter well within her. “He was married to my sister. They had a child, a boy. And then Sierra died and her beloved husband took off with the child.”

“What happened to your sister?”

His worst fears were confirmed as Sarah Murphy lifted a bleak gaze in his direction, and her words verified his thoughts.

“She was strangled, just over two months ago. By a stranger, according to Les. Someone who broke in to the house and attacked Sierra.”

“And you don’t believe that?” Brace asked quietly, prepared for the shake of her head, the scornful line of her lips as she denied his query.

“He’d threatened her before. When Les drinks he’s a demon, mean and hateful. Even sober, he’s got a cruel streak a mile wide.”

“Why didn’t the law stop him?” It seemed like a logical question to Brace, knowing how his own office would react to a woman’s death.

“A woman like my sister doesn’t get a lot of consideration in a town like Big Rapids, Missouri,” Sarah said. “I’d think you’d know that in many places women are at the bottom of the list, and the town we lived in isn’t much different. She was just an ordinary female who made some wrong choices in life.” Her mouth twisted in distaste. “The first of which was marrying Lester Clark.”

“So you followed him to Benning, Texas.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded unbelieving. “Why on earth would he leave Missouri and come to a place like Benning, Texas?”

“I think his people are from the west side of the state. Other than that, I have no idea. I just followed him.” She looked down for a moment, and Brace wondered if she was fighting tears. Her shoulders hunched a bit, then straightened with obvious effort, and she lifted her chin and met his eyes with a gaze that glittered. “Les has my nephew. I want Stephen back.”

Brace considered that idea, recognizing her impassioned plea as that of a woman allowing her emotions to take the reins. “If this man has the child with him, I’d say he has a perfect right to him. Being his father gives him that, legally.”

“Even if that man killed my sister?” Her voice was choked with tears as she spoke the question, and he hesitated to reply, knowing she would resent his answer.

“You have no proof of that, do you?” Before she could respond, he held up a hand and continued. “If the law thought there was any chance of such a thing, they’d have been on his trail faster’n you could—well, pretty damn quick,” he said, altering his reply for female company.

“Men always believe other men.” She spit the words at him and he heard the unspoken message. She’d been shunted aside, given short shrift by the lawmen in question. And perhaps with good reason. Then again, she seemed like an intelligent female. Maybe there was more to this than was visible on the surface.

“And you have no idea why he came here?” Brace asked.

She shook her head, and once more her hair shifted with the movement, seeming almost alive, with waves falling upon her shoulders and back. Enough to distract a man, Brace decided, unable to conceal the admiring glance he turned upon her. She was young, not looking to be more than twenty—too young for a man like him to be considering.

Her eyes were in shadow and he bent toward her, lifting her chin a bit, the better to see the blue depths. With a sharp movement she twisted her head, effectively removing his hand from her skin. He allowed it without an argument. He’d seen the moment of panic she’d attempted to hide, noted the automatic withdrawal from his touch.

Straightening slowly, he watched her, willing her to shift in the chair, waiting for the long moments of silence to have an effect. And waited in vain.

Sarah Murphy would no doubt make a good hunter, possessing the ability to remain still and in one position for however long it might take for a deer to leave its hiding place and meander across her path. Brace could almost envision such a scene, and then he smiled at his fanciful thoughts.

“You think this is humorous?” she asked. “You’re enjoying keeping me here?” Her chin tilted again, this time at her own volition, and her gaze touched his with a stony glare. “If Les is leaving town while you stand there leaning on your desk, it won’t make much of a difference. I’ll still find him, no matter where he goes.”

Brace shook his head. “Not tonight, you won’t.” He reached behind him, opened the desk drawer and removed a ring of keys. They jangled at his touch, and he palmed them, then stood erect. “You need to use the necessary before I put you in a cell?” he asked politely. “There’s one out back.”

He watched the blush climb her cheeks, painting her throat and then suffusing her face with color. “You’re determined not to leave me any self-respect, aren’t you?” Her jaw clenched, and again her hair caught the light as she tossed her head defiantly.

“I’d think you’d rather use the outdoor facility than the slop pail in your cell,” he said reasonably. “Up to you.”

“What’s the charge against me?” she asked, obviously reluctant to accompany him to a cell.

“Vagrancy, for now,” he told her. “I’ll decide in the morning if I need to jail you for threatening to murder a man. All depends on how the night goes.”

“How the night goes? What is that supposed to mean?” Her face lost its rosy hue quickly as she responded to his statement. Then she rose with care, as if her legs required a bit of coaxing in order to hold her upright. “Lead the way, Sheriff,” she said.

“First, let’s see if you’re wearing a weapon,” he said mildly. “If you were planning on shooting a man, chances are you have access to a gun.” He cast a measuring glance at her and couldn’t resist a smile. “Can’t see where you’re hidin’ it, though. Those pants fit you like a glove.”

“Are you going to search me?” she asked. “Shall I empty my pockets?”

“Are you armed?” he returned, taking one long step, looking down at her from closer range.

She shook her head. “No. I have a gun in my saddlebag.” And then she shrugged. “Unless you count the knife in my pocket, I’m not much of a threat to you.”

“Let’s have the knife,” he said, holding out his hand.

She slid slender fingers into her side pocket and withdrew a small penknife, placing it onto his palm with a slap. “There you are. Did you feel threatened?”

“Any weapon is dangerous if its user is intent on causing bodily harm,” he answered quietly. “This little knife could do a lot of damage.”

“Well, all it’s been used for up until now is cutting branches to use for bedding and for a spit over my fire.”

Brace slid it into his pocket. “For tonight, it’ll be safe with me,” he told her. “Now, have you decided about the trip out back?”

“I suppose you’re coming along.” Her words were a statement of fact, he decided, and he answered in like form.

“You’d better believe it, ma’am.”

He lifted a hand toward the back door of the jail, and she led the way past two empty cells and then opened the door to the outside. The darkness was almost solid before them, the moon hidden behind a cloud, the stars barely seen. The faint outline of a small building gave notice of her destination, and Sarah walked toward it.

“Do I get to go in alone?” she asked, her hand on the latch.

“Now, Miss Sarah, you should know better than to ask that. I’m not a man given to looking where I’ve not been invited. I’ll just wait right here.”

She pulled the door closed behind her and he grinned into the darkness. Damn, she was a handful. He’d give much to keep her around for a while, but overnight was probably as far as he could go without causing an uproar, should the ladies in town hear of it. Turning his back on the outhouse, he folded his arms across his chest and waited.

Standing with her hand on the latch wasn’t getting her anywhere, Sarah decided. The knowledge that the lawman waited outside, just six feet away, was daunting, the presence of a jail cell with her name on it even more so. She’d never been in jail. Indeed, had never had a run-in with the law in any way, shape or form. Unless she counted the sheriff who’d checked out Sierra’s death and uttered bland words of sympathy.

The door opened silently, but the sheriff turned to face her without hesitation. His face was a blurred shadow in the night, the shine of the silver star on his shirt allowing her to spot his form before her. Walking beside him, she headed for the jailhouse and reached for the door. The light from the lawman’s office cast a gleam before her and she stepped inside the hallway and waited for him.

“I’ll get you a bucket of water and a towel,” he offered, gripping her elbow and crossing to the first cell. Using the largest key on his ring, he opened the door and swung it wide, ushering her inside.

Without protest she obeyed his unspoken order and stepped into the small cubicle. Just large enough for a simple cot, a chair and the aforementioned slop pail in one corner, it was barren of any comforts, and she scanned the bed she would use for the night.

“I’ll get a blanket and see if I can scout up a pillow for you,” the sheriff said.

“Don’t you have many prisoners, Sheriff?” she asked. “I’d think these lovely rooms would come complete with furnishings.”

“Nope. Benning is a pretty quiet town. Not much doing usually.”

“No wonder you were so thrilled with finding a lawbreaker like me on the premises,” she said caustically. The cot beckoned, and she made a deliberate effort to appear nonchalant as she walked across the cell and sat down.

He stood in the open door of her accommodations and slid one hand into his pocket. “I’ll be right back with all the comforts of home,” he told her, then closed the metal portal with a clang and walked toward his office.

Sarah watched him go, finally allowing her trembling hands permission to entwine in her lap. Her breath was rasping in her lungs, and she felt a deluge of tears threatening. Not for the world would she succumb to their flow until the dratted lawman was far, far away, she decided. No doubt he’d settle her for the night and then go on home, where he probably had a nice comfortable bed.

And then in less than five minutes she discovered how wrong she was.

“My name’s Brace Caulfield,” the lawman told her as he approached with one arm full of blanket and pillow, a white towel balanced atop the pile. His other hand held a bucket of water, and he deposited it on the floor while he unlocked the cell.

Ungraciously she sat on the bunk while he carried his bundle inside and placed the bedding on the chair, then lowered the bucket to the floor at the foot of her cot. Only her good upbringing forced her to utter a grudging thanks for his efforts, and she was answered with a brief nod.

From his back pocket he withdrew a candle and several matches and in less than a minute had lit the taper, then allowed the wax to drip onto the floor. The candle was set in place, and its glow illuminated the cell around her, providing comfort she hadn’t expected. She hoped it would last at least until she went to sleep, although that might be a long time from now.

“I’ll be in my office all night,” he told her. “If you need anything, just call out.”

“You’re not going home?” she asked disbelievingly. Surely the man had a home to call his own.

“Not with a female in my jail,” he told her forcefully. “There’s not much chance of danger to you, but I don’t think it’s wise to ask for trouble. That saloon down the street is full of fellas who’d give their eyeteeth for a chance to touch your pretty face.”

“I doubt they know I’m here,” she protested, unwilling to face the thought of him in the next room.

“Well, we’re not gonna give them a chance to come looking, are we?” Locking the door with a quick twist of the key, he stuffed the ring into his pocket and watched her for a moment through the bars. “You’re safe, Miss Murphy. If you’re thinking I’m gonna come in here and bother you, don’t give it another thought. My mama raised me to be a gentleman.”

And somehow Sarah knew he spoke the truth. In the light of her candle, his eyes were dark and shadowed, yet compelling, as if he looked into her very depths and knew the fears she held within her.

The candle indeed lasted, longer than she’d expected, and her gaze focused on it for long minutes as she coaxed her body to relax on the hard cot. It still burned as her eyes finally shut.

She awoke in the dark, aware of another presence nearby, and sat up with a start.

“It’s all right, Sarah. It’s me, Sheriff Caulfield.” The voice came from outside her cell, and as she focused on its source she was able to see the tall, shadowed figure of the man who spoke.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

“No. Just making sure you’re all right. Do you want another candle?”

It would not be wise to give in to her natural inclination, she decided, and refused his offer. Inviting the man into her cell was the last thing she wanted to do in the middle of the night, given her trembling hands and fearful thoughts. He was too inviting, his calm, sure voice offering security and safekeeping. And she needed every bit of independence she could muster for the days ahead.

“No, I’m fine,” she told him, with a fine disregard for the truth, then placed her head back on the thin pillow and closed her eyes, choosing to live with the lie she’d spoken.

Chapter Two

S leeping on a chair guaranteed a miserable night. Brace had realized it before midnight, and by three in the morning he was ready to occupy the cell next door to his prisoner. The fact that she would likely rouse and be wary of his presence a few feet from where she lay kept him seated before his desk. His head finally sought the hard surface and he dozed fitfully, opening his eyes when the rising sun appeared in the window.

Yawning and stretching, he made his way to the cell where Sarah slept, curled on her side, the blanket drawn up over her shoulder, the miserable pillow tucked and rolled beneath her neck. At least she’d had a flat surface upon which to spend the night. Hard and barren of a mattress it might be, but he’d warrant the cot was a sight more comfortable than the chair he’d occupied.

His key rattled in the lock and the young woman’s eyes blinked, then opened fully, and she peered at him blankly for a moment. Then recognition kicked in and she pulled the blanket over her head. “Go away.” It wasn’t even a polite request.

He ignored the words with a grin as he stepped into the cell. “Thought you might want to take a walk,” he suggested, as if it were an option. Either she went now or in an hour or so. And unless he missed his guess, she was going to be mighty uncomfortable if she had to sit on that cot until he returned with her breakfast.

“A walk?” The blanket flew off and she swung her legs over the side, sitting upright and shaking her head as if to clear it. A yawn required covering her mouth with one hand, and then she eyed him boldly. “And where is this walk going to take me? To the gallows?” she asked sweetly. “Or haven’t you had time to get them built yet?”

“You’ve got a smart mouth for a woman dependent on my good nature,” Brace said softly. He turned from her and stepped through the cell door.

“Wait.” The single word halted his progress, and he glanced at her idly over his shoulder.

“What for? You all of a sudden decide to be polite?”

She sighed and rose, staggering a bit as she took a single step toward him. An involuntary sound passed her lips and he frowned as she gritted her teeth and shuffled her way to the door where he stood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like the accommodations?”

“Not much. The ground was softer, I think. At least I had a little grass under me.”

“Where was that?” Brace asked.

She shook her head. “Couldn’t say. Somewhere the other side of town. Under a tree, next to a creek.”

“Wallin’s Creek, probably,” he surmised. “About four miles down the train tracks and a little to the south.”

“That sounds about right.” She halted in the cell doorway and looked at the back door. “That door unlocked?”

Brace shook his head. “Nope. I’ll have to open it for you.” Easing past her, he brushed against her shoulder and she flinched from the contact. “Sorry,” he said lightly. “Didn’t mean to push you.”

She recovered quickly. “You didn’t. Just caught me off balance.” Her eyes were bright blue, he noted again, just before she lowered the lids, hiding her expression from his sight. Dark hair hung in a tumble of waves and curls over her shoulders and down her back. His gaze was drawn by the sight. He’d thought he preferred golden hair, but with a slow grin he revised his opinion.

In seconds he’d unlocked the door and opened it, waving her through. “Go ahead,” he invited, and then watched as she walked past him and down the short path to the outhouse. She was easy enough to look at, he decided, taking full advantage of the view of her rounded bottom, outlined nicely by the pants she wore. He leaned against the doorjamb and waited patiently until she reappeared.

“I’ll get you some warm water if you want to wash up while I’m gone,” he told her as she walked past him again, heading for the open cell door.

“I’d appreciate it,” she said politely. And then ruined the nicely spoken words with a glare from those brilliant eyes. “How long will it take for you to decide I’m not a threat to your community, Sheriff?”

“You in a hurry to go someplace?” He locked the cell door and stepped away from the bars.

“You know damn well I am,” she said bitterly. “You’re holding me without a valid reason, and you know it. Either charge me with a crime or let me go.”

“All right,” he said agreeably. “I’ll think of something while I go find you some breakfast.”

She settled on the edge of the cot and leaned her chin on her fist. “Don’t forget the warm water. I’d like to scrub the smell of your jailhouse off my skin.”

“Your skin smelled pretty clean to me,” he told her. “I took special note of it.”

Her glare would have melted wax, he thought, and smiled to himself as he strolled back into his office. A bucket from the closet clutched in one hand, he left the jailhouse and walked across the street to the hotel. The alley led to the kitchen door and he pushed it open and inhaled the scent of breakfast.

“You got some warm water I can use?” he asked.

Bess Casey looked up from the griddle where six round pancakes were browning and waved a hand at the reservoir attached to the side of the cookstove. “You know where it is. Same place it was last time you needed some for washin’ up.”

“It’s not for me,” he said. “I’ve got a prisoner over at the jail. I’ll need some breakfast right quick, too. And about four cups of coffee.”

“Bad night?” Bess asked with a questioning look. “You look a sight, mister.”

“Sleepin’ on a chair’ll do that to you,” he agreed.

“I suspect you’ve got a perfectly good bedroom in that house of yours,” she told him. “Why didn’t you use it?”

“My prisoner is a female,” he said, that explanation enough to make Bess nod her head.

“Good enough reason,” she said. “Does the lady want coffee, too?”

“I’ll find out,” Brace said, dipping water into his bucket. “I’ll take this to her and be right back.”

“You’ll have to wait a bit. Got four orders for breakfast lined up already,” Bess told him. “I’ll put more bacon on right away.”

He nodded and left the kitchen, the scent of hot coffee wafting behind him. If he’d brought his mug along he could have taken a cupful with him.

The storekeeper was out front, sweeping the sidewalk as if his very life depended on the cleanliness of the wide boards. “Mornin’, Sheriff Caulfield.”

Brace nodded a greeting. Mr. Metcalfe was not one of his favorite people, but he’d at least be civil. The flagpole in front of the newly built post office was still empty, but even as Brace glanced that way Titus Liberty came out the door with the spanking new flag in his arms. “Morning, Sheriff,” the gentleman said smartly. “You’re up early.”

“So are you, Titus,” he said.

“Almost time for the morning train. Got to meet it and pick up the mail.” Having graduated from a corner of the general store to a building constructed by the government for his use, Titus was proud of his position. “You expectin’ anything in the mail?” he asked Brace.

“Doubt it.” And if he was, he’d have to spend an hour deciphering it. Reading was a problem. He’d about decided to contact the new schoolteacher and see if she’d be willing to take up his lessons where the last volunteer had left off. His lips formed a straight line as he thought of the woman he’d had in his sights and spent more than a year yearning for. Faith was gone, and with her his hopes for a home and family of his own.

Honesty made him recognize that she’d never been his, but he’d had dreams. His pace had slowed crossing the road, and now he turned the handle on his office door and stepped inside. Dust motes floated in the sunlight and he left the door open, allowing the warmth to invade the interior of the building.

“Here’s your water,” he said, keeping an eye out as he approached the cell. Sarah sat on the cot, right where he’d left her, and he placed the bucket on the floor while he opened the cell door. Setting it inside, he nodded at her. “Breakfast will be here in ten minutes or so. I’m going back right now for coffee. You want some?”

She nodded and rose to walk toward him. “Thanks for the warm water,” she said, a bit grudgingly, he thought. The woman was obviously unable to ignore the manners she’d been taught in her lifetime, and he smiled his acknowledgment of her words.

“My pack was tied on behind my saddle,” she told him. “Can I have it?”

“What’s in it?” he asked, then added as an afterthought, “Besides the gun.” Doggone. He’d forgotten the dratted thing last night, so besotted with the female in front of him he’d neglected his duty as a lawman.

“A change of clothes,” she told him. “Clean stockings and a few other items.”

He nodded. “I’ll get it for you, right after breakfast. Maybe Jamie will be here by then and he can walk over to the livery stable.”

Her eyes were shadowed as she met his gaze. “How long are you going to keep me here?” she asked. “My nephew is probably being carted off to the next town while we’re standing here talking. I know this isn’t important to you, but that child is my reason for living right now.”

Brace backed from the cell and locked the door. “I’ll check at the hotel and see if the fella’s still there,” he told her.

She nodded, and he thought he caught sight of the glitter of tears as she bent her head. It bothered him, touched him at his very core. Maybe because she was a woman alone—and yet it was more than that. Sarah Murphy was vulnerable, even given her possession of a gun and the small knife she carried. She was a woman—capable perhaps, but nevertheless a female, alone in a situation that threatened that essence of womanhood she possessed.

In less than an hour Brace had fed his prisoner and verified that the man she sought had checked out of the hotel, and was even now leaving town. A muscular fellow, tall and broad of shoulder, he stood in the doorway of the livery stable. Beside him was a child, a boy of about seven, Brace decided. Dark haired and slender almost to the point of being skinny, the boy shifted restlessly beside his father, and Brace could not help but stroll to where Lester Clark waited impatiently for his mount to be saddled.

“Mornin’, stranger,” Brace said mildly. “Anything I can help you with?”

A dark glance from beneath lowered brows was his reply, and then as if he’d caught sight of Brace’s badge, the man shook his head. “Just trying to get an early start. Once I get my horse I’ll be out of your way.”

“You headin’ west?” Brace asked. “The road is a pretty straight shot from here, but you’ll run into some rough spots. We’re kinda isolated here.”

“I’ll make it,” the man answered, his speech clipped and concise.

“Pa?” The boy looked at his father appealingly. “You said we was gonna look for Aunt Sarah. Is this where she is?”

The glare was a demand for silence and the boy appeared to shrivel before Brace’s eyes as he bent his head and considered the dirt at his feet. “I just wondered,” the child murmured, and was delivered a sound, open-handed blow to his shoulder for his trouble.

The narrow shoulders hunched, and a stifled sob reached Brace’s hearing. It was the opening he’d hoped for and he bent, one knee on the ground as he crouched beside the child. “You lookin’ for your aunt?” he asked quietly. And then with a quick glance at the child’s father, he continued. “Maybe I can help you find her.”

Better that this encounter take place within his jurisdiction, he decided, than on the road to Wichita Falls. If Sarah Murphy confronted this man on her own, she might not come out the winner. In fact, her chances of such a thing happening were next to nothing.

“We don’t need any help,” the stranger said. “The boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But, Pa—” An upraised hand formed a fist and the boy was silent.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Brace said flatly.

“He’s my kid. I’ll do as I please.” The force of his anger reddened the man’s complexion, and his eyes shot darts of flaring rage in Brace’s direction.

“Not in my town, you won’t,” Brace told him, rising, one hand resting on the butt of his gun. He knew he presented an intimidating picture, dressed in black as was his usual custom, standing even taller and broader than the man who faced him.

“I’m leaving, Sheriff,” the stranger said, reaching for his horse’s reins as the mount was led toward him.

“That’ll be fifty cents,” Amos Montgomery said, his gaze moving quickly from one to the other of the men before him. And then he caught Brace’s eye. “Problems, Sheriff?”

Amos Montgomery was stalwart, muscular and had a body that reflected his line of work. Being a black smith seemed to go right along with running the livery stable, and Amos did both with strength and purpose. Now he allied himself with Brace in a manner that could not be mistaken.

“No, I don’t think so,” Brace said easily. “This young’un and I are going to pay a visit to the hotel and find us something to eat.”

“He’s my son,” Lester Clark said harshly. “You have no right to haul him away like this.”

“I have every right. This is my town,” Brace said, aware that he was infringing on parental rights, and found that he was uncaring as to Lester Clark’s rights, as a parent or a citizen. The man rubbed him the wrong way. Abuse of a child was about as low as a man could go. And unless Brace missed his guess, the man’s motives were not as pure as they might be. He certainly wasn’t showing any degree of love for the little boy right now, anyway.

The child’s small hand crept into Brace’s palm and nestled there, his fingers trembling as if they sought refuge. Looking upward, the lad bit his lip and then glanced with a sideways look at his father. Donning his lawman’s scowl, Brace looked at Lester Clark, daring the man to defy his edict.

“It may be your town,” the man said, “but as a citizen I have rights. Mainly as it pertains to my boy.”

“Well,” Brace said, his words slowing into a drawl, “let’s just let the doc take a look at your boy, Mr. Clark, and see if he finds any traces of abuse.”

“I can treat him any way I want to,” Lester blustered. “He belongs to me.”

“Last time I heard, it was against the law to own another human being,” Brace said in that same soft, low voice. “You can own a horse or a dog, but there’s no way you can put your brand on a child.”

“Where’s the judge in this godforsaken town?” Lester asked harshly.

Brace smiled, a feral grin that he’d been told turned him from a nice, decent gentleman into a wolfish creature who could scare the britches off the devil himself. He stood taller, his hand once more touching the butt of his gun. From beneath the brim of his black hat he cast a scornful glance at the man before him.

“The judge comes into town every two months or so,” Brace said. “He should be here in a couple of weeks. Would you like to wait for him in one of my cells?”

That the second cell was currently holding a young woman was information Lester Clark needn’t know, Brace thought. Especially since she’d just as soon shoot the man as look at him. And for a moment he wondered which of the two was the more dangerous.

“You’re not locking me up, mister,” Lester snarled. “I haven’t done anything illegal.”

“Well, don’t ruin your record now,” Brace told him. “I’m takin’ this boy to see the doc, and from there we’ll find something to eat at the hotel.”

“I’m real hungry,” the boy said softly, as if he feared his father might overhear his words. He was about as close to Brace’s leg as he could get without climbing it. The urge to snatch the child up and into his arms was almost irresistible, but Brace settled for bending to the boy, brushing a big hand over the lad’s dark hair and squeezing gently at his narrow shoulder.

“Come along, son,” he said, holding tight to the small hand that was now fisted around his index finger. With a glance over his shoulder at Amos, he sent a silent message, and the blacksmith apparently had no difficulty in deciphering it.

“I’ll keep an eye on things,” he said curtly.

Lester Clark stood in the middle of the road and watched Brace’s departure, and the venom of the glare he cast upon the man and child was almost palpable, Brace noted. The boy trotted along without complaint, and Brace looked down at him as they neared the jailhouse.

“I got somebody inside you might like to see,” he said. “Want to make a quick stop?” And without waiting for a reply, he crossed the threshold of his office. Jamie sat at the desk, his boots propped on its surface, his hat sliding down over his eyes as he dozed.

“You want to bring Miss Murphy out here?” Brace asked quietly, and then had a hard time restraining his smile as his deputy jerked to attention. His boots hit the floor and he was upright in seconds.

“Yes, sir, I can do that,” he said, glancing down at the boy who held Brace’s hand as if it were a lifeline. Snatching up the keys from the desk drawer, he hastened through the door, and in moments Brace heard the rattle of the lock, and then the squeak of the cell door opening.

“What’s going on?” Sarah Murphy’s voice held a puzzled note, and then she was there in the doorway, and the child beside him shivered and uttered his aunt’s name with a pleading sound.

“Aunt Sarah?” Poised beside Brace, the boy tugged his hand free and launched himself at his aunt with a cry of anguish. “Aunt Sarah,” he repeated, and as she bent to receive him, he reached her and clung to her. His legs circled her waist and his arms wrapped around her neck, his small face buried against her throat.

“Let me take him,” Brace offered quickly. “He’s too heavy for you.”

Sarah shot him a look that might have made a lesser man tremble. “Don’t touch him. It’s me he needs.”

Brace pushed his chair toward her instead, waving a hand at the wooden seat. Sarah settled there, rocking the child and crooning words of comfort against his dark head. For a long moment the two men were silent, then Jamie turned away, as though his emotions were caught up in the drama before him.

“Stephen. Oh, Stephen, I’ve been looking for you,” Sarah said quietly, pulling back from the boy’s grip to look into his eyes. “Are you all right?” She held him away from her, scanning his small form, her gaze snagged by a bruise on his forearm. “What happened here?” she asked.

“Nothin’,” Stephen said, as if the purple abrasion were of little account. And it probably was hardly noticeable to the lad, Brace decided, now that his aunt held him close. “Everything’s all right now, Aunt Sarah. I knew you’d find me.”

She looked up at Brace, her eyes filming with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I owe you.” And then she looked toward the doorway and beyond it to the road. “Where’s his father?”

“Over at the livery stable, trying to figure out what his options are,” Brace said. “I offered him a bed here, but he wasn’t of a mind to accept. I suspect he’s gonna stay at the hotel for a while, unless he gives up and heads on down the road. But I wouldn’t count on that, ma’am.”

“He won’t get this child from me,” she said fiercely, her grip on Stephen tightening. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep him safe.”

“Well,” Brace began, his mind working as he reached for her and eased her from the chair, “let’s go over to the hotel first off and feed this young man some breakfast.”

“It’s closer to dinnertime, isn’t it?” Sarah asked, her confusion apparent.

“Yeah, I suspect it will be by the time we make a stop at the doctor’s office, but this boy hasn’t had anything to eat today, unless I miss my guess.”

She looked down at Stephen, whose gaze traveled from one adult to the other in a bid to keep up with the conversation. “Haven’t you eaten this morning?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Pa said we was in a hurry.”

“I’ll just bet he did,” she muttered. Her face dark with anger, she lowered Stephen to the floor before her and he stood where she’d placed him, apparently willing to do whatever she bid him. “Let’s go,” she said, gripping his hand and walking to the doorway. “Lead the way, Sheriff.”

“This isn’t anything permanent, ma’am,” Brace told Sarah. They sat at the small table, watching Stephen devour a plateful of pancakes and eggs, and Brace felt more than a twinge of anger at the man who’d neglected the boy to such an extent.

“I’ll not give him up,” Sarah said firmly. She clasped her hands before her on the white tablecloth and her chin jutted forward as if she had drawn a line in the sand and dared him to step over it. “Lester is not getting his hands on him again.”

“He’s his son,” Brace said quietly. “I broke the law by taking Stephen today, if you really want to know the truth. I can keep him at arm’s length till the judge comes to town in a couple of weeks, but I doubt you’ll have a leg to stand on once we go to court and present your case.”

Sarah leaned over the table. “I don’t care what it takes, Lawman, I won’t give him up again. Did you pay attention to what the doctor uncovered in his office? Didn’t you see the bruises he wears?”

“Yeah, I saw them,” Brace said agreeably. “But the fact remains that Stephen’s place is with his parent. That’s legal and binding, no matter what you and I think about it.” He leaned back in his chair and shot a grin at the boy, whose wary gaze was once more following the adult conversation that concerned his future.

“Isn’t there any way? Legally, I mean?”

“You’re a nice lady, Sarah, but you’re a woman alone. No matter how bad the boy wants to be with you, you won’t be considered a good risk, not stacked up against a father’s claim, anyway. In fact, you’re gonna have a tough time finding a place to stay while we wait for the judge. You aren’t going to be safe here, not with your brother-in-law running around town.”

“If I leave, he’ll never find us,” she said quietly. “We can skin out of here after dark, and by morning he won’t have a trail to follow.”

Brace sighed and shook his head regretfully. “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you do that. You’re gonna have to stick around till the judge shows up. I can’t let you run off.”

“You can’t stop me,” she said harshly.

“Yeah, I can,” he said. “If I have to I can stick you back in a cell and take the boy home with me. That way I’ll know where the both of you are.”

“No.” The word was accompanied by a violent shake of her head. “Anything but that,” she whispered. “Don’t take him away from me.”

“I’m not leavin’ you, Aunt Sarah,” Stephen said stoutly, thrusting his chin forward in a fashion much like that of his aunt.

“Well, we can try something else,” Brace said, leaning back in his chair. “You could both come home with me. I’ve got a couple of extra bedrooms I never use. As a matter of fact, I rarely even use any part of the damn house. I spend a lot of nights here at my desk, or, on occasion, at the hotel instead of going all the way home.”

“Why?” she asked, confusion alive in her face. “Why don’t you stay in your house?”

“It’s lonely there,” he said simply. “And sometimes I need to be handy in case there’s trouble at one of the saloons.” His smile was sheepish and he knew it. “It’s no fun to rattle around in an empty house.”

“Will there be a problem if we stay there?” she asked. “Will you be in trouble with anybody in town if you let us move in?”

He shook his head. “I don’t see why. It’s my house, bought and paid for with hard cash. I’d think I can pretty much do whatever I want to with it, including inviting company to stay if I want to.”

“I don’t want to damage your reputation,” Sarah said softly.

“More likely that I’ll damage yours,” he answered with a slow grin. And for the first time he wondered what had possessed him to make such an offer. The woman was about as appealing as any he’d ever met. Dressed in her pants and shirt, she drew every eye, especially those of the men who’d had a hard time keeping their gazes from her as she walked from the jailhouse to the hotel. She was slender, but rounded in all the right places, and he’d probably do well to park her somewhere other than his front bedroom.

But the offer had been made, and Brace Caulfield wasn’t a man to back down once he’d made a decision. “I picked up your pack from the livery stable. I kept the gun, just in case you planned on using it.” He watched her closely, noting the wary expression she wore. “You’ll be safe with me,” he told her, and as he watched, she nodded slowly.

“I suspect I will. I found that out last night.”

“About last night,” he began, and halted when she held up a hand to silence him.

“Let’s not talk about it,” she said, glancing at Stephen. “You were within your rights, and the way things have worked out, I’m not going to complain.”

“All right.” And wasn’t that an easy resolution to the issue. He’d thought he’d have to mend fences, but apparently Miss Sarah Murphy wasn’t a woman to hold a grudge.

All in all, this might be an interesting proposition.

Chapter Three

I t rose two stories high, the roof sloped and gabled, the windows abundant, their surfaces gleaming in the sunlight. All in all, it was a place that appealed to her, and Sarah found herself slowing her pace as she walked from the buggy toward the wide front porch. It was barren of furnishings, but the cool, shaded area looked to be ideal for a swing, perhaps a rocking chair, or even just a bench beside the door.

She could imagine whiling away the hours of eventide here, watching the sun set and the first stars appear in the night sky. The notion was fanciful, and she moved it aside for the more practical questions that begged to be answered.

“Why did you buy a place so large?”

Sheriff Caulfield looked a bit uncomfortable, she thought, but gamely met her challenge. “I’d thought to find a wife and settle down here, maybe have a family.”

“What changed your mind?” She’d seldom ever been so intrusive, but there was a sense of sadness about the man that spoke to her. Perhaps he’d been disappointed in love, or had lost his beloved to death. Sarah looked up at him, her gaze seeking to look beyond his casual manner. “You needn’t answer,” she said hastily as his mouth tightened. “I was rude to press for details.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not rude, Miss Murphy, just being a woman, I suspect.” His smile appeared then, and she welcomed its return. “I found that my job took more time at first than I’d planned, and then I decided that the choices in Benning were pretty scanty.”

“Surely in a place this size there are available women,” she said, her tone unbelieving. “Or are you too fussy?” She’d murmured the query beneath her breath, smiling to brighten the mood a bit.

“Maybe,” he answered. “I’m of the opinion that marriage is a contract that shouldn’t be entered into lightly. And unless a man has the time to invest in a marriage, he hasn’t the right to expect a woman to haul more than her share of the load.”

Sarah stepped up onto the porch and crossed to the wide front door. “I doubt you’d be selfish,” she said bluntly. “You seem the sort of man to play fair, no matter what the occasion.” She looked up at the fanlight over the door. “A woman chose that.”

He followed her gaze. “What makes you say that?”

“The colors, the design. It’s absolutely worthless, except for the beauty of its reflection inside the house.” She met his gaze. “It’s not of much real use, but it’s a touch of unexpected beauty.”

He reached past her to open the heavy door, and she noted the lack of a key in his hand. “I take it you don’t lock your doors.”

“Haven’t found any need to,” he said. “Although, with you staying here, I may have to make some adjustments to my routine.”

“Not unless it’s common knowledge that I’m here,” she answered. “I don’t think we’ll be in any danger, do you?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “I wouldn’t want to bet on it. Your brother-in-law is not a happy man right now.” He stood back and ushered her into the wide foyer, touching Stephen’s shoulder as the boy passed in front of him. The child flinched noticeably at the lawman’s touch, and Sarah’s mouth firmed as she tightened her grip on the small hand she held securely.

Brace followed her inside and then leaned against the door. “What do you think?” he asked. Spoken casually, the words held a touch of pride. His dark eyes softened as he scanned their surroundings: the table against the wall, the bench beside it, the staircase that climbed to the second floor. On either side were doorways and open arches, and Sarah yearned to explore the rooms beyond her vision.

“You have a housekeeper?” she asked, noting the clean floors, the gleaming wood of the banister and the lack of dust in the corners.

“Someone comes in once a week. Looks like she was here yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Sarah turned to face him. “Just how often do you come home?”

He fidgeted a bit, she thought, and then his smile appeared, curving one side of his mouth as if he were unused to such a display of good humor. “Couple of times a week, I suppose,” he answered. “There’s not much here to keep me comin’ back, Miss Murphy. It’s got furniture, but without folks living in it, a house feels pretty empty, don’t you think?”

She nodded toward the nearest archway. “May I explore?” she asked, unwilling to step beyond good manners, though her instincts were crying out to look into the room that beckoned her. Something about this house, this man, drew her. He’d offered a haven for Stephen and herself, and though she’d accepted tentatively, the first glimpse of his home had decided her.

I’ve come home. The thought was almost frightening, and she trembled as he nodded his permission. At her side, Stephen clung to her hand, and together they crossed the threshold into the parlor. It was well furnished, warm and welcoming, unlike many formal rooms. A fireplace stood against the outside wall, apparently unused for some time, its hearth swept clean of ashes. Light curtains allowed the sunlight to cascade across the carpet, where the colors glowed in a rich display.

“It’s lovely,” she whispered, turning in a slow circle, Stephen clutching her fingers and following her lead.

“Come see the library,” Brace said, issuing the invitation in a measured tone. Instinctively she recognized that the room he was about to show her was important to him, and she followed his lead across the foyer to a matching room on the opposite side of the house.

Two walls were lined with bookshelves, and the third boasted a bay window with a wide, cushioned seat that begged a reader to curl there with her favorite book. A desk stood against the fourth wall, and furnishings that promised comfort were grouped before a fireplace.

“What do you think?” he asked again, watching her closely, as if her opinion was of great importance to him.

“It’s wonderful,” she said. She lifted one hand to include the shelves of books. “Have you read all of them?”

She thought his eyes darkened as he shook his head abruptly. “No. I don’t seem to find the time,” he answered. Yet a look of intense longing made her wonder that he didn’t spend his evenings here, that he didn’t utilize this room that was of such obvious importance to him.

He led the way back to the hallway and then toward the kitchen. “The dining room is next,” he said, pointing at another wide archway, beyond which sat a gleaming table, surrounded by eight chairs. A glass-fronted buffet against the outside wall caught her eye, and she noted the gleam of china and silver behind the upper doors.

“Do you use it?” she asked, and was not surprised at his abrupt movement of denial.

“No. I don’t entertain.”

“What a waste,” she told him, unaware of the yearning quality that imbued her words. They walked on, and she could barely resist a final look at the gleaming perfection of the room. Then she found her pleasure in its beauty almost eclipsed by the warmth of the kitchen into which he led her.

Windows hung with checked curtains and possessing wide sills caught her eye, and she murmured beneath her breath at the sight of pots of flowers in dire need of watering. That’s a man for you, she thought. With a sigh she stepped before the sink and pumped water into a handy pitcher. From there she headed toward the abused plants, pouring refreshment into the dry dirt they inhabited.

“I’m not real good at that sort of thing,” he said, humor lacing the words. “I think sometimes I should just give up on having anything that needs care. The woman who lived here was real big on flowers and such things, and I promised her I’d take care of them.”

Sarah shot an amused look in his direction. “She’d have done better to take them with her.”

“Couldn’t,” Brace said bluntly. “She got on a train and headed east to be with her children. Wasn’t any way she could haul along half the garden with her.”

Sarah looked around the sunny room, finding small touches that appealed to her feminine side, such as it was. She’d long since given up the idea that she’d ever be the sort of woman to wear silk finery. But that didn’t stop her from admiring the suggestions of a woman’s hand in putting together this house.

“Can you cook?” Brace asked, and she laughed.

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at it. I’d say I can find my way around a kitchen about as well as you’d expect.”

“To tell the truth, Miss Murphy, I have no idea what to expect from you. You haven’t come anywhere near my first impression, that’s for sure.”

She turned to him. “And what was that?”

He looked down at Stephen, and his smile was tender, she thought. “I didn’t take you for a woman who’d be so besotted by my house,” he said. “I had a notion you were trying not to be any more girlish than you could help.” He slid a hand into his pocket and leaned against the doorjamb. “In fact, I was pretty certain you were—” He grinned suddenly, halting as if he hesitated to speak his mind. “Well, now. Let’s just say I was wrong about a couple of things. And probably right about a couple of others.”

“Oh?” A glance down at Stephen, who was following the conversation with interest, silenced her then. He had enough upset in his young life. He didn’t need to hear a lawman dissecting her character this morning.

“To get back to the question, ma’am,” he said politely. “Can you cook? Or maybe I need to ask instead, are you willing to put together a meal?”

She looked around the room. “Out of what?”

“The pantry has a good assortment of food. Nothing fresh, but maybe you could turn out some jars or cans, enough for you and the boy to get along with for the rest of the day.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Or don’t you plan on staying long?”

“I’m going to leave for a while, but I’ll be back. I think some fresh milk and a loaf of bread might be a good idea. If I’d been thinking, I’d have stopped at the general store.”

“I think you were in a hurry,” she told him, recalling their rushed exit from the hotel, the buggy he’d hired at the livery stable and his casual yet thorough search of their surroundings as they’d made their way here to his home. His horse had been tied to the rear of the vehicle, and she hadn’t questioned his motives.

“I’d rather not have been followed,” he admitted. “You’re just half a mile from town here, but there’s a lot of trees and some pretty heavy brush along the road.”

“We’re not starving,” she said, recalling the food Stephen had put away in the hotel restaurant. “I think we can hold off until you come back.”

“I have something to show you,” he said, casting a furtive glance at the boy, who had yet to move from her side. And then he crouched in front of the lad. “Do you think you could take a look upstairs and maybe find the bedroom you’d like to sleep in while you’re here?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Stephen answered, as if used to obeying without quibbling. He released Sarah’s hand, a bit reluctantly but without argument, and went from the kitchen to the wide staircase. She took a single step toward the doorway to watch him as he made his way up the stairs, and then she turned back to Brace.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There’s a gun in the pantry,” he told her. “I’m assuming you know how to handle a shotgun.”

She nodded. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me back my handgun, though.”

As if he made a momentous decision, he looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “All right, but if push comes to shove, if there’s any trouble, you’ll be better off with a long gun. Scattershot will do the trick if someone gets close to the house.” He slipped her pistol from his waistband and turned it in his hand, then placed it in her palm, his other hand beneath hers.

And then he covered it for a moment, capturing her fingers in his clasp. “Be careful, Sarah.”

He’d gotten himself into a pickle. Not only had he hauled a woman into his house, but he’d taken a child from his legal father and hidden that child. Brace rode slowly back to town, the mare and buggy stored in his shed until he decided his next move. His black mount made short work of the half mile he traveled, and in moments the general store was before him.

His office door stood open, Jamie propped there watching him. Brace lifted a hand in greeting and Jamie pushed away from the wall. “Hey, Brace,” he said in greeting. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels. “You had company a while ago.”

“Lester Clark?” He wasn’t surprised, just thankful that Sarah and the boy were safe for now.

“He’s madder’n hell. Said you stole his kid.” Jamie shifted uncomfortably. “Was it legal? Takin’ the boy, I mean?”

Brace tried his best to look patient. “Now, what do you think, Deputy?” And then he answered his own query. “Hell, no, it wasn’t legal. Just the right thing to do. The boy is wearing bruises from one end to the other.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Jamie asked, squinting for a moment, then pulling the brim of his hat down.

“Keep Stephen and his aunt out of sight for a couple of days. At least until the judge comes into town.”

Jamie’s lips twisted in a knowing grin. “I’ll bet you’ll be staying out at your place for the next few nights, won’t you?”

Brace’s jaw firmed, and he noted the involuntary response Jamie could not disguise, his grin fading as he sensed Brace’s anger. “Didn’t mean anything by that,” he said quickly. “I suspect you’ll be out there keepin’ an eye on those two.”

“You’re right there,” Brace told him harshly. “And no one had better find out that’s where they are.”

“Not from me,” Jamie said hastily. “I’ll just hold the fort here, unless there’s some reason or another to hustle on out there and notify you.”

“About the worst that generally happens on a Friday or Saturday night is a fight at one of the saloons,” Brace told him. “You can handle that.”

“You takin’ off for the rest of the day?” Jamie asked. “I figured you might, in order to get your guests settled in out at your place.” He grinned widely. “About the first time you’ve let anybody walk through that front door, ain’t it?”

Brace shot him a look designed to quell his curiosity, but to no avail.

Jamie was intent on poking into the subject. “Never could figure out why you wanted such a big place, anyway,” he said lazily. “Seems like you’d rattle around in that house all by yourself.”

“I don’t spend a lot of time there,” Brace admitted. “But one of these days—” His words were cut off by a shout from the front door of the hotel. Bart Simms was on the porch, waving a piece of paper in one hand, his fist making emphatic movements in the air.

“You’d better get yourself back in here, mister. You’re gonna pay this bill, or I’ll know the reason why.”

“Trouble,” Jamie said in an undertone, standing erect and patting his gun with a proprietary touch. “I’ll handle it, Sheriff. Go on along and tend to your business.”

Brace shook his head and reached out a restraining hand as Jamie would have stepped into the street. “Hold it.”

They watched as Lester Clark turned and dropped his bag at his feet, then glared at the hotel owner. “I paid in advance,” he said, and then, for good measure, stalked back to where Bart stood and snatched the paper from his hand. “This isn’t worth squat,” he shouted.

“Well, I may want to argue that,” Brace said, pitching his voice to carry across the street. He strolled to where the two men stood, and Bart cast him a thankful look. But Brace’s attention was focused on the other man. “You’re just bound and determined to occupy one of my cells, aren’t you, mister?” he asked.

“You can’t arrest me,” Lester shouted. “You’ve already stolen my boy from me and hidden him away somewhere. All I want to do is get my hands on him, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you pay your account at the hotel,” Brace told him, folding his arms across his chest, a pose he knew caused the few troublemakers in town to think twice before they crossed him.

“I paid in advance,” Lester said stubbornly.

Brace smiled. “Well, we can solve the whole problem, then. All you have to do is show me the receipt.”

Lester blustered for a moment. “I didn’t keep it. Didn’t think I’d find a bunch of crooks in Benning.” His sneer was eloquent. “Course, when the local sheriff himself is beyond the law, that’s about what you’d expect.”

“Either pay your bill or gather your gear and head across the street to the jailhouse,” Brace told him firmly. And then he waited, his full attention on the angry man before him. In less than a minute Lester dug into his pocket and withdrew a handful of money, sorted through the coins and chose two to give Bart Simms.

“Thanks, Sheriff,” Bart said, glaring in impotent fury at his erstwhile tenant. “You know damn well we don’t charge in advance for our rooms.”

“I’m aware of that,” Brace said, watching closely as Lester picked up his bag and headed toward the livery stable. “I think I’ll just follow along and see what our friend is planning.”

“Where’d that young’un go to?” Bart asked in an undertone. “Like I told my missus, he was a pitiful sight to behold.”

“That he was,” Brace agreed. “Don’t worry about him. He’s safe and sound.” Sleeping in one of my bedrooms tonight. Two of them had beds available, and he hoped to heaven that the boy hadn’t laid claim to the big double bed Brace used on occasion. He’d already wondered about letting Sarah Murphy have it, and decided that might not be the best idea.

Where he would put the woman he hadn’t the faintest idea, but the deed was done. He’d invited her to stay, and he’d best be thinking about providing her with a bed. Of her own.

“Good. I was hoping you’d remember the milk,” Sarah told him when he entered the kitchen bearing a full jug from his nearest neighbor. His bundles were deposited on the round kitchen table quickly—a loaf of bread from the neighbor’s wife and a dozen eggs from her white leghorn hens. A small crock held a round of butter, and Brace looked down at his offerings with satisfaction.

“I brought some coffee from the general store, too,” he said. “You know how to make it?”

“I suspect I can try,” Sarah said, amusement in every syllable. She brought a blue speckled bowl from the pantry and filled it with the eggs, then unwrapped the loaf of bread, lifting it to sniff with appreciation. “This is wonderful,” she said. “I’ll have some supper ready in no time flat.”

He settled at the table, watching as she moved around his kitchen. It was strangely satisfying, he thought, to have a woman here. For a year or so he’d believed this might never come to pass. Silently he cautioned himself not to get too excited about Sarah Murphy’s presence in his kitchen. She’d probably not be sticking around for long. She had things to do, and he was merely offering his hospitality until her life was in order.

“I can’t thank you enough for taking us in,” Sarah said, turning from the stove to face him. “Stephen found a litter of kittens in the shed, and he’s out there playing with them. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. Old Tabby manages to keep our rodent population under control with her offspring,” he said easily. “I’ve got the only feed barrels hereabouts that aren’t on the menu for those pesky mice.”

“There’re mice out there?” Sarah asked, her eyes flitting to the back door and beyond it to the large shed. “They won’t bite, will they?”

Brace laughed. “I can’t believe a woman like you would be afraid of a mouse.”

Her chin rose a bit and her eyes flashed a dark message in his direction. “I’m not afraid of them. I just don’t like them.”

“They’re a fact of life, Sarah. If you have a farm, you have mice. If you have a cat like Tabby, you can keep them pretty much under control.”

“You don’t have them in the house, do you?” she asked, darting a glance toward the pantry.

He couldn’t believe her. His amusement spilled over into laughter again. “A woman who managed to follow a rascal like Lester Clark across the country, toting a gun and keeping track of her prey for who knows how long, shouldn’t blink an eye at whopping a mouse with a broom,” he said cheerfully.

“I’d rather shoot Lester,” she said sharply. “And where is he, anyway? Has he left town yet, or are we going to be hidden here till kingdom come?”

“Till it’s safe,” he said firmly.

“It’s not going to be safe for you, once the folks hereabouts realize I’m parked in your house,” she said bluntly. “Don’t you know what sort of stories people will start spreading? You’re asking for trouble, mister.”

“You’d rather be in jail?” he asked mildly.

“Of course not. I’d rather be bundling up my nephew and heading back home.”

“And what happens if Lester Clark chases you down?” he asked. “He’s bigger than you are, sweetheart. He carries a bigger gun. And I don’t think he’s a very nice fella.”

“Well, that’s the understatement of the year,” she said quickly. “I know all about Lester. He’s not going to shoot me.”

“And how do you know that?” Brace asked.

“He has other plans for me.”

Brace was silent, his mind reckoning the truth of her words, and finding them to be logical. “What’s his problem?”

Sarah turned toward the stove and stirred the contents of a kettle. Her movements were vigorous, her back stiff and straight, and he’d warrant her cheeks were flushed. Either with anger or embarrassment. Maybe both.

“You ready to eat?” she asked. And then, without waiting for his answer, she dished up into a bowl the meal she’d concocted from his supplies and carried it to the table.

“What’s that?” Brace asked, peering into the savory mixture.

“Beef stew,” she answered. “You didn’t have any decent flour, so I couldn’t make biscuits. It’s a good thing you brought bread home.” She reached into the kitchen cupboard, brought forth three smaller bowls and placed them on the table, then looked at him.

“Would you mind calling Stephen in? He’s inside the shed. I told him not to venture outside.”

Brace rose, ambled to the back door and stepped out onto the porch. “Stephen,” he called, pitching his voice to carry the fifty feet or so to the outbuilding. He was rewarded by the sight of a grinning child, a kitten cuddled in each arm as he stood in the open doorway. The look of pleasure on the boy’s face made this whole mess worth it all, Brace decided.

“Come on in, son,” he said. “Your aunt has supper ready for us.”

“I think we need to talk,” Brace said, aware that this conversation was overdue. “I want to know just what your plans are, Sarah. And don’t tell me you’re ready to trot back where you came from when you know damn well that your brother-in-law will be hot on your trail the minute you leave town.”

“I thought you said he took his horse and left.” She hesitated, then offered her opinion. “Probably heading for his family’s place west of here.”

“And you really think that’s the end of it?” Brace asked. “He didn’t bring the boy this far just so he could walk away and forget the whole thing. Though it doesn’t make sense to me that he’d let you find him so easily. He could have lost you if he’d had a mind to, don’t you think?”

She nodded. Reluctantly, he thought without surprise. “It isn’t Stephen he really wants,” she said quietly. “It’s me.”

“That’s about what I figured.” He leaned back in his chair and watched as Sarah’s cheeks turned pink. She lowered her eyelids, as if she could not face his scrutiny, and she seemed to concentrate on the design in the oilcloth. Her index finger traced a yellow flower, and then she found an errant crumb from supper and brushed it to the floor.

“My sister was also my twin,” she said after the silence had stretched to several minutes. “Lester wanted to marry me eight years ago, but I wouldn’t accept his proposal. I was too young, just sixteen, and deathly afraid of him, to tell the truth. He has a violent temper.” She looked up at him then. “I already told you that, didn’t I?”

He nodded encouragingly and waited for the rest of the story, aware already that the ending would not be to his liking. “You told me,” he said. “The same time you told me he’d killed your sister.”

“Sierra was timid,” she said. And then her smile twisted her lips in a grimace. “We weren’t much alike. Not like two peas in a pod, as my mama used to say.” She sighed. “We looked alike, but I use my right hand and Sierra used her left. It was the one way my father could tell us apart sometimes, except for when I lost my temper.”

And that was something Brace could well imagine. Sarah was a spitfire. His thoughts spun, snagged by one statement she’d made. “Could Lester Clark tell you apart?” he asked. “Or was it you he really wanted, but had to settle for your sister?”

“You’re a pretty smart fella for a lawman,” Sarah said with a wry glance in his direction. “I think you’re way ahead of me.”

“I’m assuming you figured Lester out first thing, Sarah. So why didn’t you warn your sister about him? She was sixteen, too—far too young for marriage.”

“She wouldn’t listen. He can be charming when he wants to be, and Sierra was easy to fool. She could have had any number of men if she hadn’t been so besotted with Lester.” Sarah shook her head, and her eyes lost their brilliance. “She was sorry from the first day she married him. I don’t know why she stuck it out for so long, except that she got pregnant right away.”

“Was that reason enough?” Brace asked bluntly. “Couldn’t she have gone home?”

Sarah shook her head. “Not in a town like we lived in. My mother is the head of the garden group and my father is a town councilman. Walking away from her marriage was not an option. Besides, by then Lester had stolen money from my father’s company and the bank was after him. My folks felt disgraced by the whole thing.”

“I’d say it was more of a disgrace to have to plan her funeral,” Brace noted.

Sarah’s eyes rose to meet his. “You’re right. They knew. No matter that they pretended to go along with Lester’s story about someone lying in wait for Sierra, my parents knew what really happened. Lester probably didn’t mean to kill her. My parents didn’t want that sort of scandal to taint their reputations. They’d covered up her injuries for years.” She paused and shrugged. “I know they mourned her terribly, and I suspect they felt guilty. They tried to make amends by taking Stephen into our home. They were good to him, and between us, we took care of him until the day Lester made off with him.”

“I sure as hell hope they went to court to make Lester pay for what he did, not only stealing from your father, but his part in your sister’s death,” Brace muttered darkly. “And now Lester is after you. The man must be demented.”

Her sidelong glance held a touch of macabre humor, he thought, as did the words she spoke. “To want me? Thanks a whole lot.” How she could still scrape up that small amount of humor in her situation gave him a glimpse into her mind. She was a woman of courage, and given a fair chance could have held her own against a man of Lester’s ilk.

She was also considerably older than he’d guessed at first. Twenty-four, if he’d figured right, if it had been eight years since Lester’s proposal. She was old enough to know her mind. And that made her more eligible as a woman in his eyes, a thought he set aside for future consideration.

The situation she faced at this point reeked of danger and duplicity. Her safe haven right now was here, with him, Brace decided. And he’d see to it she and the boy came to no harm. Although where that would leave him, once this thing was resolved, was a question he’d rather not consider right now.

Suddenly the thought of Sarah Murphy walking away and leaving him alone again held no appeal whatsoever.

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