Praise for Stacey Kayne

THE GUNSLINGER’S UNTAMED BRIDE ‘ …fast-paced and laced with humour, action and sexual tension.’ —RT Book Reviews

BRIDE OF SHADOW CANYON ‘ …keep this one for a good night’s read.’ —RT Book Reviews

MOUNTAIN WILD ‘Kayne’s strong and appealing characters and colourful Western setting deliver just the right amount of flavour to a tough and tender story.’ —RT Book Reviews

MUSTANG WILD ‘Fast-paced and well written, MUSTANG WILD was a delight to devour. Highly romantic, with just the right touch of humour, MUSTANG WILD is one for the keeper shelf. Stacey Kayne has penned a treasure …’ —Cataromance

‘This strong debut is a tale of one woman’s struggle to overcome a father’s deceit before she can find peace, forgiveness, and passion with the man meant for her. Each character carries his or her own weight, adding depth and humour to this honestly written story.’

—RT Book Reviews

MAVERICK WILD ‘Excitement, mystery and delight fill the pages of MAVERICK WILD, Stacey Kayne’s latest historical treasure. Kayne can weave a story that will capture you and not let go. She has demonstrated herself to be a talented force in the world of Western romance. ’—Cataromance

“Am I in jail?”

Warm throaty laughter drew Lily’s gaze to a pair of sparkling blue eyes. Flutters erupted low in her belly. A sudden heat flooded her face, and she averted her gaze from the handsome stranger.

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

“This is all a terrible misunderstanding. I’ve come to Pine Ridge on business.”

“I am aware of that.” The corners of his mouth slid upward again, and Lily was quite certain she’d never known a man with such a charming disposition.

“Sheriff Barns!” The stranger glanced over his shoulder as a man burst in through the door.

“What is it, Davy?”

“Barns?” said Lily.

The Sheriff looked back at her, and Lily realised she’d spoken the name aloud.

“That’s right,” he said. “Juniper Barns.”

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

She’d come to Pine Ridge to kill the Sheriff.

Recent novels by the same author:

MUSTANG WILD

MAVERICK WILD

MOUNTAIN WILD

COURTED BY THE COWBOY

(part of Stetsons, Spring and Wedding Rings anthology)

BRIDE OF SHADOW CANYON

THE GUNSLINGER’S UNTAMED BRIDE

features characters you will have met in

BRIDE OF SHADOW CANYON

About the Author

STACEY KAYNE has always been a daydreamer. If the comments on her elementary school report cards are any indication, it’s a craft she mastered early on. Having a passion for history and a flair for storytelling, she strives to weave fact and fiction into a wild ride that can capture the heart. Stacey lives on a ranch near the Sierra Nevada, with her high-school sweetheart turned husband of eighteen years and their two sons. Visit her website at www.staceykayne.com

THE GUNSLINGER’S UNTAMED BRIDE

Stacey Kayne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dedicated to…

Robyn, Alyssa & Ali

Inspirations of strength, intelligence and courage.

Stick to your guns—follow your dreams.

Special Thanks to…

My family for their unending support and patience.

Sheila Raye, Marlene Urso and Carla James, my

fearless critique partners.

My wonderful agent, Kim Lionetti.

Linda Fildew and Lydia Mason for their editorial

expertise and making my job a joy.

All my readers!

Prologue

Fall 1876

California Foothills

“Juniper Barns!”

Juniper’s horse crested the last rise of swaying yellow grasses as his name carried back on the breeze in an angry shout. He reined in, his gaze locking on five riders mounted in front of the ranch house that had been his sanctuary for the past six years.

Sprays of light from the setting sun glinted off their guns, raising the fine hairs on the back of Juniper’s neck. Sensation tingled in the tips of his fingers. He forgot about the exhaustion tugging at his muscles and the sweet scent of freshly baked bread that had been calling him home for supper. His free hand flexed, his palm burning for the grip of his gun concealed beneath his range coat.

A kid didn’t shoot thirteen men into their dusty graves without making enemies. He’d known there’d be a day when the demons of his past would come to call.

One of the men shouted Juniper’s name toward the house as he dismounted.

That day had come.

“He’s not here!”

The woman who’d raised him from the age of fourteen stood on the covered porch, baby Isaac in her arms. Rachell’s four-and five-year-old daughters huddled against her skirt. May’s ebony braids set her apart from her younger sister, April, whose hair was as red as her mother’s.

Juniper urged his horse forward. His gaze homed in on the man at the base of the stairs. As Juniper neared the house, the stranger turned toward the sound of his approaching horse.

Flat forehead, square chin, dark beady eyes … features similar to that of Dan Yates.

He hadn’t forgotten a single face of the men who’d fallen to his guns. They rose up in his mind at odd times, haunting him.

He tugged on the reins, slowing his mare as she crossed the yard.

“Stop where you are,” the man called, raising his rifle.

May’s scream pierced the air.

“June!” her little sister shouted.

“It’s all right,” he called out, wanting to calm his sisters. “Go on inside with your mama.” His gaze flickered toward Rachell. She glanced out at the golden hills stretching toward the Sierras. Juniper prayed Jed and the others would take their time getting back. As much as he valued their protection, he didn’t want to see any of them get hurt on his account.

Rachell’s fearful green eyes met his gaze.

“Go on,” he urged.

June, she silently mouthed, hugging her infant son to her chest.

“Wait just a damn minute!” Yates shouted.

“Go,” he said, before turning his attention to Yates. “No sense in scaring the girls.” June shifted the brim of his hat up over his blond hair to keep a clear view of the other four riders. He felt a rush of relief as the door closed behind Rachell and her children. “Your business is with me.”

Narrowed dark eyes moved over him. “I doubt that. I’m looking for a gunfighter from Missouri way. Goes by the name of Juniper Barns.”

June leaned forward, crossing his wrists over the saddle horn. “You found him.”

Low chuckles rumbled from the men mounted behind their friend. Yates only scowled. “Like hell.”

Juniper wished he could deny the fact. No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t erase his past, and he refused to hide behind those who would defend his actions. He’d done what he’d had to, and he held himself accountable.

He dismounted slowly, keeping his hands in clear view, though the men before him didn’t seem to recognize him as a threat.

“You related to Dan Yates?” Juniper asked, facing the man standing a few yards away from him.

Dark eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t know what your game is, kid.”

Nearly twenty years old, Juniper was hardly a kid—no more a kid than he’d been at the age of thirteen when his uncle had shoved him into the street, forcing him to draw his guns to stay alive.

“I’m looking for the man who shot my brother down six years ago in Mason, Missouri. I don’t care if I have to beat that information out of you or the woman.”

Tension coiling through his shoulders, Juniper widened his stance.

“Just tell me where to find Barns and there’ll be no need for you to come to harm.”

“If you didn’t intend harm, you wouldn’t be here. If you had any sense, you’d never have come.” He brushed back the edges of his range coat, tucking the heavy canvas behind the weight of a double holster he’d worn every day since his father had died at the hands of outlaws.

The man’s gaze landed on the matching Colts, his eyes widening with recognition of the twin pearl grips.

“This family doesn’t deserve trouble from my past. You want to have it out with me, fine. Name the place.”

Sheer hatred hardened the man’s expression. “I spent five years in prison waiting to get out and avenge my brother’s death. It took me a year to find you and I’ll damn well shoot you where you stand.”

The men mounted behind Yates stepped down from their saddles. Yates raised his hand. “Stay back,” he ordered, keeping his gaze trained on Juniper. “He’s mine.”

“Don’t make your brother’s mistake.”

“My brother is dead!” Yates shouted.

“By his own doing,” Juniper felt inclined to point out. “I warned him to walk away from my uncle’s bet. He didn’t listen.”

They never listened.

“You think those fancy pistols make you some kind of special, don’t you?”

“Mister, I wish to God I’d never strapped on a gun. I’ll tell you exactly what I told your brother. I got no will to kill you. You can walk away right now.”

Yates tossed his rifle aside. “Your luck just ran out. No one’s ever outdrawn me, and I’ve been hunting you for a long time.” The man hunched forward, bending at the knees, his elbows hiked high.

Juniper had to wonder if Yates was giving his impression of a giant crab.

“When I’m done with you,” Yates said, his fingers flexing above his holster, “I’ll be sure to show your family the same respect you showed mine.”

Rebelling against a lash of fear, a numbing calm settled over Juniper as he accepted the challenge. Keeping his gaze on Yates, he noted the position of the four armed men standing behind him. Killing didn’t take any great skill. For Juniper, it was merely reflex.

His senses keen, his arms idle yet poised, he waited, in no more a hurry to kill than he was to die.

As if sensing the change in him, Yates narrowed his gaze, a look of caution stealing into his eyes. Sweat trickled down from his temples.

“What are you waiting for?” Juniper taunted. “Shoot me.”

Yates tensed. His breathing began to sound labored. All bad signs—for Yates.

“Flinch and I’ll kill you,” Juniper warned. “Say the word and you can walk away.”

Yates went for his gun, the dark metal making it a fraction out of his holster before bullets exploded from Juniper’s twin revolvers. He fired four consecutive shots, his aim shifting to the men beyond Yates’s falling form. Metal pinged and sparked as two revolvers fell to the ground. The fourth bullet chipped wood from a rifle grip in another pair of hands.

His fingers on the triggers, two men in his sights, Juniper stared at four gaping expressions. All four had just seen proof that it wouldn’t take more than a blink for him to drop every one of them.

He didn’t have to check Yates to know the man was lying in a pool of blood, a hole through his heart. Juniper had learned, his first time in the street, wounding an adversary only meant he’d also suffer a bullet before having to fire another. The men staring at him hadn’t challenged him—yet.

“Anyone else here for vengeance?” His low tone was barely a rustle on the breeze, his heart slugging slow and hard against his chest.

“No,” one of them called out, still shaking the sting from his fingers. “I got no quarrel with you.”

A second man vigorously shook his head. “We, uh—”

“Ride or die.”

They scrambled onto their horses, hooves trampling weapons as they made a hasty retreat.

Juniper stood just beyond the porch, watching all four fade into the distance. The moment they disappeared over the western hillside, the tremors hit, staggering him.

He leaned forward, planting his hands on his knees. His gaze landed on Yates lying in a circle of crimson, his glassy eyes reflecting blue sky and white clouds.

Nausea rose up like a wave of fire.

The sound of his sisters’ sobs filtered outside as Juniper sucked air. Hearing the door squeak open, he turned toward the house.

“Rachell, don’t let—”

April shoved past her mother before he could tell them to stay inside. “June!” She crossed the porch in a flash of red hair and leaped from the steps into his arms.

Holding her face to his chest, he rushed up to the porch, but he was too late. May stood beside her mother, her wide eyes locked on the man lying in the dirt.

“Is he … dead?”

Rachell turned her oldest daughter toward the door and ushered her back into the house. “We’re just glad you’re okay,” she said as Juniper shut the door behind them.

May glanced at his holster and took a step back, her frightened expression hitting him like a blow to the gut. She stiffened as her gaze shifted toward the sound of horses approaching from the northeast pasture.

“It’s your daddy and Uncle Ben and his boys,” Juniper said, and realized his whole life was about to be exposed. Ben’s sons were just a bit younger than him and had no idea their adopted cousin hid a bloodstained past.

He crouched down to place April on her feet. May rushed forward, crowding into his arms beside her sister. Juniper hugged them both, relief warring with a deep sense of loss. Though he wasn’t related to this family by blood, they’d given him the first real home he’d ever known, sealing his place in the family the day their first daughter had been born. “Now I’ll have May and June,” Rachell had said, June being the nickname Rachell had given him, and he’d never been so honored. April and May were his sisters in every way that mattered.

“You girls stay inside with your mama until your daddy comes for you, okay?”

Both girls nodded, moving toward their mother as he straightened. Juniper was afraid to look at her, ashamed of the terror he’d brought into their home.

The moment he’d taken this man’s life, his own had been stolen. Once the others reached town, word would spread about the gunslinger from Missouri.

More would come. He couldn’t stay.

“You did what you had to.”

Rachell’s gentle voice penetrated the anguish welling up inside him, pulling at his emotions as he felt the door close on the people he loved, the home he’d just lost.

Chapter One

Spring 1883

San Francisco

“Admit it, Lily. Your competitiveness has finally gotten the best of you.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the kind.” Quite pleased with her new business venture, Lily Carrington eased back into the burgundy velvet of her office chair and lifted a cup of steaming hot chocolate to her lips.

Reginald spared her a quick glare, his thin lips set in a grim line as he continued to riffle through the box of disorganized company files atop her desk.

“It’s no matter,” she said. “McFarland is simply being a sore loser by withholding the payroll records and turning over the company files in such disarray. I’ll sort through every page if I have to. There’s more than one way to obtain payroll records. Surely someone on-site has kept a log of employees, work hours and pay rates.”

“Take my advice, sweetness.” Reginald tossed another file into the box, then brushed his fingers against his blue silk jacket as though his hands had been soiled. “Sell it.”

“I will not. You’re being rash.”

“I’m being realistic.” He dropped into the leather chair on the opposite side of her desk. A wedge of sunlight gleamed against the dark hair slicked back against his scalp. Stiff tracks left by his comb added to his look of severity. Even so, with his slight build and delicate facial structure, Regi was no more intimidating than a stern librarian or a cranky banker.

As her second cousin and top financial advisor, it was Regi’s job to be circumspect about business matters, but Lily had run the numbers before going after the lumber company. With proper management, the Sierra lumber camp and mill would become a valuable asset to L. P. Carrington Industries.

“Lily, it’s no secret that this entire venture is nothing but a folly to put o1’ McFarland in his place.”

A smile curved her lips before she took another sip of creamy cocoa, the taste nearly as sweet as her victory. She wouldn’t deny the fact. The old goat had dared to come to her offices a few months ago seeking financial assistance, only to refuse to sit across the bargaining table from a woman. If that hadn’t been insult enough, he’d later publicly ridiculed her before hundreds of colleagues at a charitable ball, calling her a disgrace to respectable businessmen.

A disgrace, was she? She hadn’t been the one sitting idly by while her stock was discreetly bought out from under her. Her initials had been the prefix of Carrington Industries for five splendidly successful years. At twenty-five years old, Lily was L. P. Carrington Industries, owning more than eighty-five percent of the company. The supposed board of trustees, her old and ailing relatives, only cared that their bank accounts were brimming.

The fact that McFarland wasn’t making this particular takeover an easy endeavor didn’t take away from her delight at seeing the utter defeat and humiliation in his face as she had personally claimed the title of her new lumber company.

“L. P. Carrington Lumber,” she said brightly. “I like the sound of it.”

Reginald groaned as he reached toward the tray holding her silver chocolate pot. “Face it, strumpet, he let this money pit go because it was failing.”

“You didn’t see his face when I walked in. He didn’t want to part with Pine Ridge.”

“So you’ve taken the man’s prized possession. You don’t need to prove anything further.” He sat back in his chair and pulled a silver flask from the inside of his jacket.

“Regi! It’s barely ten o’clock in the morning!”

“And yet my head is throbbing as though I’ve suffered an entire day of your takeover activities.”

Lily crossed her arms in disapproval as he poured a clear trail of spirits into his hot chocolate. He capped the flask and tucked it back into his jacket.

“I don’t need to see the outstanding payroll records to surmise that this company is about to implode.” Regi sat back, sipping his potent chocolate. “The accounting records reveal plenty. McFarland took out more than he put in and had nothing left to pay his employees, nor was he willing to dip into his personal funds to compensate for the loss.”

“Exactly. The company failure was due to his poor management. I didn’t walk into this completely blind, Reginald. The potential is there.”

“Darling, you hardly need another source of income. And we have enough work to juggle without taking on a camp full of filthy oxen men who haven’t been paid in weeks. This lumber business will be nothing but a drain on our time and re sources.”

“I’m keeping my new company. Success is the best revenge.”

Regi took a deep drink, his dark eyes shining with mirth. “This is why men cower in fear when you enter a boardroom.”

She didn’t appreciate his catty tone. “They do.”

“Yes, love, I know. I’m the one standing right beside you as they tremble. No one is questioning your success.”

“That’s not the point,” she said, straightening her posture. She tugged at the bottom of her fitted waistcoat, smoothing wrinkles from the black-and-gray pinstriping.

Reginald rubbed at his temple. “What exactly is the point, love? I keep forgetting. Could it be that you need another excuse to stay cooped up in this pampered palace of an office?” He splayed his hands toward satin-lined walls trimmed with gold moldings. “Look at you. Impeccable style, flawless skin, every strawberry-blond curl swept up in sheer perfection, and all of it going to waste.”

“I don’t care for your perspective. Looking my best is hardly wasteful.”

“I dare say ten years ago you’d have been the belle of every debutante ball, had you bothered to attend them.”

Unlike the rest of the Carrington women, Lily didn’t judge her worth by the size of her wedding dowry. She preferred to follow her mother’s example and shun tradition. It was, after all, what everyone expected of her, for poor orphaned Lily to adopt her mother’s reckless ways. She did hate to disappoint.

“If you’ll recall, I was banned from such festivities.”

Regi’s tittering laugh increased her annoyance. “I assure you, no one has forgotten. You did pull off your own ruin with certain aplomb. And for what? To spend your days intimidating stuffy old men in gray suits and looking over the shoulders of all our accountants? Every day you descend from your living quarters bound and bustled in San Francisco’s finest fashions. You need to get out once in a while, Lily. Strut your fancy wares.”

“I’m a businesswoman, Reginald, not a peacock.”

“You hardly need to be an exotic bird to get some fresh air. Take time for a social tea, a stroll through Ghirardelli Square for heaven’s sake. You need a lover, Lil, not more work.”

One brief interlude had been plenty to keep her focused on the finer things in life—business and chocolate. No one had been complaining about her social life while she’d doubled the family fortunes. Regi was the only one who’d made any attempt to understand her, or at least humor her ambitions.

“You socialize enough for both of us,” she said. “Someone has to run this place.”

“If your aunt Iris knew how I’ve aided and abetted your spinster ways, she’d turn over in her grave.”

Regi also knew how to get under Lily’s skin.

“Doubtful,” Lily said, her frown deepening at the thought of her late, harping guardian. “The old biddy could hardly be troubled to lift a finger in life, much less ‘roll over.’ And you are deliberately toying with my temper.”

“On the contrary, I’m simply pointing out the obvious. You already work nonstop. This isn’t a small undertaking, Lily.”

“A successful lumber company will be a perfect addition to L. P. Industries.”

“Yes, love, but we’re talking about a bankrupt lumber camp. According to the latest financial records, McFarland hadn’t paid his employees in over a month, which is why he was looking for outside funding. Are we to make good on those back wages? All we have is a list of names, with no hint of their position in the company or pay rate. We don’t even know if the camp is abandoned or filled with disgruntled employees.”

“We’ll gather a team to assess the situation and obtain the payroll files. We’ll send a messenger immediately with notices explaining the change of ownership and temporary freeze of financial assets.”

Reginald scooted to the edge of his cushion and braced his hands wide on her desk. “Just for a moment let’s be reasonable. What do you know of lumberjacks?”

“They chop down trees.”

Regi laughed. “Oh, bravo. And when these jolly beasts of labor, who ‘chop down trees,’ come tromping from the woods demanding to be paid, what then, my darling?”

Lily refilled her cup and smiled brightly. “Refer them to you, of course, my financial counsel.”

Regi arched a dark eyebrow. “I’d laugh if I didn’t know you have a streak of viciousness in you. I can hardly counsel a woman who does not heed my advice.”

“I’m neither naive nor inexperienced. Anything worth the effort is seldom easy.”

The glint in Reginald’s brown eyes told her he was quite aware of that fact.

“If they want their jobs they’ll have to be patient while we work through McFarland’s mess. Otherwise they’re welcome to take up banners with those obnoxious men of the labor unions and harping ladies of Women’s Suffrage, and march the streets. Goodness knows one can never please the masses.”

“You have never tried to please the masses,” Regi said. “So why not just please your cousin. Let this one go.”

“No.”

Regi’s gaze narrowed. “When this lumber-camp jaunt goes up in smoke, I will expect a full I-should-have-listened-to-Reginald apology.”

“I always listen to you, Regi,” she said as she began thumbing through the box of files. “You’ve been my trusted friend since I arrived in San Francisco.”

“Which says little of my sensibilities,” he muttered.

“We will split the list of employees and see if we can’t match them to job references buried in the rest of this mess.”

Reginald stood and snatched the stack of paper she held out to him. “You realize we do employ secretaries?”

“Yes. Tell Emily I’d like another pot of hot chocolate.”

“Right after I notify some of the staff that they’ll be taking a trip to the mountains.”

Lily slid her chair up to the desk and opened the file with rows of names listed in alphabetical order, management mingled with the most common of workers. It was no wonder McFarland’s company had gone under. The man clearly had no business sense.

Her gaze scanned down the first page. A name caught her attention, forcing her to reread the line.

Barns, Juniper. Juniper Barns.

The name slapped across her senses like a razor strap. A name she’d heard over and over in her mind since she was twelve years old, since the night her father’s business partner had stood on the front porch of her childhood home in Missouri, holding a hat and a gun belt.

“I’m sorry, Rose. Red won’t be coming back. He was killed in Mason by a gunslinger named Juniper Barns. Gunned him down with those pearl-handled six-shooters.”

Her mother had been devastated. Folks had said the influenza had killed her a few weeks later, but Lily knew better. Rose Palmer had stopped living that night on the porch. She’d let the sickness take her.

He’d killed her. The gunfighter had shattered Rose’s heart by taking her husband.

Juniper Barns. The man who’d stripped the sun from Lily’s sky. He’d stolen her parents, her life, forcing her into the care of strangers, relatives her mother had shunned so she could be with the man she loved. Lily didn’t have to wonder why her mother had run off to Missouri, preferring her quiet life in the small cottage on a flower-filled meadow with her and Daddy. Dear Lord, how Lily’d missed her home, the wide-open sky, the scent of spruce and aspen, the sound of her mother’s soft voice, her father’s strong embraces.

Old rage welled up and coiled across her shoulders. How many nights had she lain awake in her fancy prison, anger burning away tears she had refused to cry as she wished for the opportunity to shoot down the outlaw who’d stolen her family and turned her life into endless torment?

Juniper Barns. Lily’s hand trembled as she brushed her finger over the letters. Not exactly a common name.

A man ain’t no better than his name.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. They were some of the last words he’d spoken to her. She remembered the last time she’d stood with him in the sun-sprayed meadow filled with tall grasses and wildflowers, his strong arms closed around her, his big hands helping her to steady the revolver as she took aim at a bottle sitting on a rock in the distance.

He stepped away. She squeezed the trigger, kicking off a shot. Glass exploded into glistening shards.

“That’s my girl!”

There was always the threat of raiders in the high country. Daddy had insisted she practice with a revolver as well as a rifle. He said she was to tell her mother about neither.

“Your mama would have my hide for teaching you to handle a six-shooter, but she’s a delicate sort of flower. My baby girl is pure Palmer. You don’t have to be a man to defend your name and protect what’s yours. Out here, we look out for our own. You got that, Lily girl?”

“I got it,” she said, thinking of the gun belt tucked safely in her wardrobe upstairs.

You don’t have to be a man to defend your name…. A name the Carringtons had forbidden her to speak in their presence. She’d gotten even with the Carringtons, making her true initials, L. P., the prefix of the company name when she’d taken over Carrington Industries.

“Lily Palmer,” she said to herself, the name sounding foreign to her ears. Had she been labeled a Carrington for so long, she’d forgotten her true self? Her chest ached at the thought.

“What’s that, love?” Regi asked, stepping back into the open doorway of her office.

“I think you’re right,” she said, shaking off the chill of old memories. “I need a breath of fresh air.”

His face lit up with a smile. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“Emily?” she called out.

The young woman who worked as her secretary and housekeeper stepped into the room. “Yes, Miss Carrington?”

“Pull out my spring dresses and have Charles retrieve my trunks.” She pushed back from her desk and stood. “Some winter dresses, as well,” she added, remembering the drastic temperature fluctuations of the higher elevations.

Emily gave a firm nod. “Right away.”

“Your trunks?” said Regi. “You intend to take a trip now and dump this lumber mess onto my lap?”

“Of course not. I’ll be accompanying our lawyers and accountants. I want to leave within a week.”

Reginald stared at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted wings. “You’re not serious.”

“Weren’t you the one just telling me I need to get out more?”

“I meant a trip to the zoo, a stroll through the park, not jaunting off into the wilderness!”

“How better to learn about my new company than to pay a visit? I won’t have to rely on long-distance reports. It’s the perfect solution.”

“Lily, I.” His hands clenched into fists. “I forbid it.”

Realizing he was quite serious, Lily couldn’t fight her smile. She was Lily Palmer Carrington, and she did as she pleased.

Lily breathed in the strong, nostalgic scent of spruce and pine as their carriage rounded the mountainside. Her gaze moved across a green canopy of giant pines rising up from a canyon below. She had to wonder why she’d waited so long to venture beyond the crowded parlors, tight streets and stifling buildings of San Francisco.

They’d left the valley at daybreak, and the moment they’d gone beyond the rolling green hills and into the forest of pines, she’d felt a sense of homecoming. Every bend in the road and new stretch of scenery had brought heartache and beauty … a longing for the life she’d lost.

A few hours back they’d stopped to rest the horses. She had stepped from the carriage into a grass-filled meadow bursting with wildflowers—clusters of orange, lavender and white. Granite mountains spiked up beyond the perimeter of towering pines. It was like stepping into her childhood, surrounded by the sights and scents of home, awakening memories she hadn’t realized she’d forgotten. Her eyes had burned at the vision of her mother standing in a similar meadow … the closest she’d come to crying since her mother’s death. Perhaps this was why she’d waited so long to leave the city. It had taken this long to let go, to find her place in the confines of the Carrington family.

A tree branch scratched across the window as the road cut inland again, and Lily sat back in her seat. Their armed guard had the best view. In front of the carriage, he rode his own mount, a beautiful black stallion. She’d been tempted to ask to sit atop the carriage with the driver, which would have been utterly inappropriate and would likely have given Reginald heart failure.

“Would you please close that shade?” he snipped. Huddled against his side of the coach, he held one of his scented handkerchiefs over his mouth and nose. He’d been sulking beside her for the past three days. “The carriage is filling with dust.”

She pulled down the heavy flap. Regi fanned his kerchief, wafting them with his pungent cologne.

“Honestly, Reginald, a little dust won’t kill you.”

“No, love, that’s your job. You may have been raised in the wild, but I was not. You heard the driver, these roads are frequented by bandits.”

She glanced at the men seated across from them, all dressed in tailored suits and bowler hats. Her accountants watched her cousin in mild amusement. Brilliant advisors and established family men in their late thirties and early forties, Johnson, Brown and Allen didn’t seem to share Reginald’s distress.

“We’re nearly to Pine Ridge, Regi, and we haven’t had a single altercation.” Other than his incessant complaints. “I didn’t force you to come along,” she said, settling back against the velvet seat.

“No, your uncle did. My grandfather clearly hates me.”

Lily wasn’t sure her uncle Alder liked anyone.

“I want to get in and out, Lily. Just grab your files and perhaps we can make it back to that valley inn by nightfall.”

“It’s going to take a couple of days, Reginald.” She was counting on it. While she had a company agenda, her main interest centered on one employee.

Her chest tightened at the thought of facing her father’s killer. She slid her hand into a pocket sewn into the thick folds of her skirt. Her fingers brushed the wooden grip and cold metal of her father’s revolver. She’d loaded the gun just as he’d taught her, leaving the first chamber empty.

“Miss Carrington is quite right,” said Mr. Allen, removing his spectacles. He tucked the wire frames into the valise on his lap, along with his newspaper. “We have a payroll to disperse. Today will likely be spent simply organizing paperwork, and then we still have the task of tallying wages.”

Reginald shook his head. “Utter suicide,” he murmured. “All of this could have been done at the office.”

“Hush,” Lily said, growing annoyed with his constant pessimism. “We’ve taken the necessary safety precautions and no one knows we have the funds or has reason to suspect we’re bringing them. Surely our employees have waited long enough for their pay. Once we have the proper documentation, I’m sure they’ll be grateful for their wages and we can move on to establishing some new order.”

Reginald glared at her over his silk hankie as he took another strong whiff of perfume.

The carriage slowed before rocking to a stop.

A rush of nerves and anticipation swirled through Lily. The driver’s seat creaked as he stepped down. Light spilled into the dim cab as Mr. Dobbs, her armed guard, swung the door wide. He was a rather large and brooding fellow, but the hint of a smile twitched beneath the curve of his black mustache.

“Miss Carrington,” he said, holding his hand out to assist her onto the step. “We’ve reached the lumber mill at Pine Ridge.”

She placed her gloved hand over his palm and emerged from the carriage into the cool mountain air. She was glad she’d dressed warmly. Her full skirt belled out, wedges of a heavy tapestry in green, blue and brown paisleys tucked into folds of dark green velvet. As her accountants followed her, Lily brushed heavy wrinkles from her green velvet waistcoat and fluffed the layered bustle crushed by hours of travel. The sound of rushing water drew her gaze to a breathtaking sight.

She walked to the edge of the high cliff overlooking a wide stream. Clear, sparkling water rushed over rocks and giant boulders. On the other side of the river the land had been stripped bare, giving a clear view of miles of green ripples, a weaving of forest valleys and tree-topped mountains.

“Oh, my goodness. It’s like standing on the edge of the world. And knowing I own it.”

“Be sure they put that on our matching headstones.” Reginald stepped beside her, his frown firmly in place.

“How can you look at such beauty with a scowl?”

“Perhaps you should glance behind you, sweets.”

Lily turned, glancing past the carriage, and her good spirits plummeted. What a complete and utter mess.

Pine Ridge appeared to be no more than a maze of logs, piles of planks, and poles with cables strung in all directions. Splintered wood and shavings littered the rutted ground. For all the piles of planks and logs, the dozen or so small cabins spaced across the yard seemed rather flimsily constructed, pieced together of mismatched boards and spare wood.

Aside from thin trails of smoke rising from stovepipes on two of the cabins, the cluttered camp appeared to be abandoned.

“Oh, my.”

“Hmm. I’ll be expecting that apology by the end of the day.”

“Did they know we were coming, Miss Carrington?” asked Mr. Dobbs.

“No.” She drew a deep breath and went to stand with her men. “I didn’t think it wise to announce our arrival while carrying such delicate cargo.”

Dobbs nodded in agreement.

A screeching whine echoed from downstream.

“The mill seems to be running,” she said, unable to see beyond the bend in the river and a thicket of pines. “Shall we make our way through the camp?”

Brown and Johnson each lifted an end of the lockbox holding the payroll. Mr. Allen gripped the handles of three leather cases containing their ledgers and accounting files.

“What should I do with the luggage?” asked the driver, standing near his team of horses. Their trunks were still strapped to the top of the carriage.

“Leave them for now,” she said, setting off across the grounds. “And wait here for us.” If no one was around to collect their pay, they may indeed be traveling back to the valley as Regi had hoped.

Lily carefully picked her way across the rutted dirt, stepping over splintered wood and chunks of tree bark. The scent of freshly baked bread grew strong as they passed a few cabins, none of them appearing to be more than common living quarters. The distant sound of a cow echoed across the yard, along with the cluck of chickens—all good signs of inhabitants.

The squeak of hinges drew them to a stop. A man stepped out from one of the ramshackle cabins to their right. His hat hid all but the shaggy brown beard of his face as he fumbled with the closure of his trousers. His other hand gripped an ax. Finished with his pants, he tucked his hands and the ax through red suspenders, then froze at the sight of them.

“Good afternoon,” said Dobbs.

The lumberjack quickly shrugged his suspenders into place, his hand taking a rather firm hold on his ax.

Dobbs stepped in front of Lily, blocking her view. “Who’s in charge of this camp?” he asked.

“You the new owner who’s holdin’ our pay?”

“I’m a representative of L. P. Carrington,” he answered as Lily moved beside him.

“I wouldn’t be shouting that to the treetops,” the man advised. “Ever since that ‘Frisco bigwig put the stop on our pay, Sheriff’s been a mite busy. He’ll be wanting to see you when he returns.”

“A sheriff?” Lily glanced at Reginald.

Regi shrugged his shoulders as Dobbs continued his inquiry.

“Where do I find the man in charge here?”

The lumberjack scratched at his whiskery jaw. “Depends on where you’re standin’ and the time of day. Bein’ that it’s noon, Cook’s in charge. Elsewise, Grimshaw runs the mill and assigns the bullheads. The Swede carries some weight, but he mostly brings down the heavy for the sheriff.”

Lily wasn’t sure the man was speaking English, having understood very little of what he’d said. “Where is the sheriff?” she asked.

“Ma’am,” he said, quickly pulling off his battered hat. “Ruckus on the mountain.” He motioned his ax toward the rise of trees beyond the river. “I suppose Grimshaw is who you’d want to see,” he said to Dobbs. “Follow that path.” He pressed his hat over matted brown hair and pointed his ax toward a dirt path leading through the thicket of pines on the far side of camp. “The whine of the saw or Jim’s swearing will lead you to the millhouse.”

“Lovely.” Reginald motioned for Lily to go ahead of him.

“The lady might choose to stay in the carriage,” the timberman advised before setting off across the grounds.

“Not likely,” Reginald muttered.

“Come along,” she said to the others.

Reaching the far side of camp, she ducked beneath chains and stepped over steel tracks as she started up the hillside leading to the millhouse. The wide path cut through a patch of tall timbers. Tracks for rail cars ran along one side. She wondered why this thicket of trees hadn’t been cleared. Perhaps to cut down on noise, she thought, hearing the whine of a saw through the tall timbers. Lifting her skirt, she trudged up the hillside.

Up ahead stood a giant open-ended barn. As she reached the top of the hill, the piercing whine of the saw fell silent. The sound of rushing water and the chirping of birds was as loud as steady traffic moving through San Francisco streets. Much like those busy streets, flatbed rail cars piled with cut wood were lined along the tracks leading to smaller open-frame buildings farther down the embankment of the river.

“Watch your footing,” she said to Johnson and Brown as they carried the heavy lockbox across a wide grid of steel tracks. Cautiously she stepped into the millhouse, a massive structure filled with machinery and oval tables surrounded by flat hand saws. Other tables supported circular blades in a variety of sizes. The strong scent of sawdust coated her senses. In a place she’d expect to find covered in bark and shavings, the floor was swept surprisingly clean. At the far end, ramps led down to what appeared to be a giant pond filled with logs.

“I think we got it working, Jim.”

Two men huddled over one of the tables near the center of the room.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she called out.

Both men jumped as though she’d raged at them. Two clean-shaven jaws dropped open as they met her gaze. Both men wore ivory hats tugged low on their brows, blue denims and ivory shirts.

“I’m looking for Mr. Grimshaw.”

“That’s me,” said the taller of the two, wiping a red handkerchief over the black grease on his fingers. “Who are you?”

“We’re representatives of L. P. Carrington Industries,” said Reginald. “I’m Reginald Carrington. This is Miss Carrington and our accountants, Mr. Johnson, Allen and Brown.” Each man tipped his hat with the introduction. “Our man, Mr. Dobbs,” Regi added, motioning to their menacing guard whose presence was title enough. “Are you the manager here?”

“I run the place,” Grimshaw said with a nod. “This is Ted Mathews, one of our tree fellers.” He jammed his thumb toward the man beside him.

“Delighted,” Reginald said, flashing a rather patronizing smile, which wasn’t missed by the two men and annoyed Lily.

“We’d like to have a look at your payroll files,” he continued.

“Did the sheriff know you was coming?” asked Grimshaw, slowly strolling toward them.

“I wasn’t even aware that we had a sheriff,” said Lily. “We’ve come to retrieve the payroll files. Where is your office?”

The two men stared at her for a moment before looking at each other then glancing at Regi.

“Miss Carrington has asked you a question.”

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

“Surely you have employee files,” said Lily.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We would like to see them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“The grove?” said Lily

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His twisted expression suggested he’d rather not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have an age limit for employees?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hurried toward the path.

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

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

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

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

Where had the deputy gone off to?

“Lady! Heads up!”

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

Chapter Two

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

Someone had smuggled a woman into camp.

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

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

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

Good God.

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

What the hell?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Easy, sweetheart.”

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

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

“Oh my,” she said, sounding breathless.

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

“I must have.” Her eyelids drooped.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Lily.”

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

“Lily? Can you hear me? Lily?”

She didn’t stir.

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

At least she had enough sense to travel armed.

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

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

“I will!” shouted one.

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

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

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

“You arresting her?” someone shouted after him.

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

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

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

“Who is she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wake up, pretty lady.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lily woke with a dull headache.

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

“Emily?” she called.

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

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

She swayed. “Oh, my goodness.”

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

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

“How’s the eyesight?” he asked.

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

“How many fingers do you see?”

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

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

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

“Am I in jail?”

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

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

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

Good gracious. Lily Carrington did not swoon over men!

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

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

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

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

“Don’t remember telling me your name?”

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

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

“The Pine Ridge Lumber Camp.”

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

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

“I haven’t a clue.”

“None. Do you know why, Lily?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s on my desk.”

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

Oh, dear.

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

Lily groaned and slumped back onto the cot.

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

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

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

Yes, perhaps he could. “I’m—”

“Sheriff Barns!”

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

“What is it, Davy?”

“Barns?” said Lily.

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

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

He can’t be.

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

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

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

“Does your father work up here, Sheriff Barns?”

“No, ma’am. I’ve got no blood kin left to speak of. My father died in Missouri nearly fourteen years ago.”

His emphasis on Missouri throbbed through her mind as chills raced across her skin. Her gaze dropped to the holster strapped to his lean hips, the pearl grip of one of his guns visible beneath his vest.

Gunned him down with those pearl-handled six-shooters.

Oh, God. She glanced up and fear shivered through her.

She’d come to Pine Ridge to kill the sheriff.

And he knew it.

“Where are you from, Lily?”

He’d killed her father. “San Francisco.”

“Born and raised?”

There was no running from the situation. She’d waited twelve years for this day, to meet the man who’d stolen her life.

“No.”

“Hell,” he muttered, dropping his gaze. “Why can’t the past ever stay where it belongs?”

Lily couldn’t stop staring at him, the clear blue eyes that had seemed so warm a moment ago, such handsome features. He just didn’t fit.

“Guess that explains why you’d be foolish enough to show up alone in a camp full of lumberjacks.” He swore beneath his breath.

“You can’t be the Juniper Barns from Missouri.”

“I am, though I haven’t stepped foot in Missouri since I was fourteen.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’m assuming you knew at least one of the men who fell to my guns.”

“My father,” she said, her mind still refusing to comprehend that this man was the callous killer who’d murdered him. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest as he stared back at her, his gaze so intent she could hardly draw breath.

“My God,” he said in a whisper. “You’re Red’s daughter.”

Her eyes surged wide.

“Lily,” he said reflectively, as though he’d just recalled her name. “Lily Palmer.”

“None of this is right,” she said, fighting the sudden burn of tears.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“You’re sorry?”

“Damn right. I’m sorry your father felt the need to call me out.”

Her father wouldn’t have done any such thing!

“I’m sorry as hell for every circumstance that led to this moment, where I’m staring into the pretty green eyes of a woman who’s come to shoot me.”

“You can’t have—My father wouldn’t—”

“I am and he did.” Juniper Barns pushed away from the cell.

Lily flinched back against the cot.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, shutting and locking the cell door as he left.

“Wait! Where are you go—” The cabin door slammed shut.

Lily pressed her hands to her chest, her heart beating fit to burst. He wasn’t supposed to be so young. All the stories, the images in her mind. This was all wrong.

What kind of a boy shot men for sport? Yet … he’d said her father had been the one to call him out.

He had to be lying. He was covering for his father. Red Palmer had been a gentle giant, Mother always seeming so tiny and frail beside him. He was as kind as he was big. He had to travel for work, but they’d hardly been destitute.

He wouldn’t do such a thing!

The cabin door opened and Lily surged to her feet. Sheriff Barns opened the cell and ducked inside. She realized anew just how tall he truly was. He stepped toward her, and she bumped against the cot, her mind a tangle of fear and confusion.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Lily.”

His gentle voice prickled her skin. She didn’t know how to react to him, a confusion intensified by the sadness vivid in his expression.

She had expected Juniper Barns to be … older and mean.

Cold steel closed over her wrists, jarring her from the mental haze. She gasped at the sight of handcuffs circling her wrists. “What are you—?”

“Getting you out of here before I have a chance to find out if your bounty-hunting father passed on his skill with a gun.”

“What! My father was a sa—” He strapped a bandanna around her mouth. She screamed into the roll of cotton.

He knocked her back. Lily landed on the cot, flat on her back. Her heart lurched as he reached for her skirts.

Lily thrashed against his hold.

A second bandanna went around her booted ankles. He pulled her up into a sitting position and sat back on his heels.

Fear transfixed her as he stared at her.

“Aside from the fact that it’s just not safe for you up here, I don’t feel like taking a bullet this afternoon. And I’m not about to raise my gun to a woman.”

“I ‘ily ‘ar-eon!” The roll of fabric in her mouth kept her from pronouncing her full name. Why hadn’t she said her full name sooner?

He lifted her with startling ease, cradling her in his arms. She tried to twist from his grasp, but it was no use. His sturdy hold imprisoned her against his chest. He eased the door open with the toe of his boot and scouted the area.

“There’s no reason to fret, Miss Palmer,” he soothed, the warmth of his lips alarmingly close to her ear.

“‘Ar-eon,” she corrected, but the word Carrington didn’t go beyond the gag in her mouth. “I ‘ily ‘ar-eon!”

“Chuck will get you safely down the mountain.”

“I grabbed all the blankets I could find, Sheriff, just like you said.”

Lily turned her face toward the gritty voice and saw a wall of plaid shirt before she was shrouded in gray wool.

“Thanks, Chuck. I don’t want her bumping her head.”

They were truly trying to sneak her out of camp! She heard the jingle of harnesses and snorting of animals as she was placed on something soft. She wiggled free of the blanket and gazed up at blue sky and the sheriff towering over her. She squirmed as he used a strip of rope to tie the chain linking her handcuffs to the spring of a wagon seat.

He eased back.

Her bound hands prevented her from sitting up.

The rogue! She adamantly shook her head, terrified he was about to leave her. The wagon rocked as the man in the plaid shirt climbed into the seat and propped his boots on the front of the buckboard, directly above her. An older man with a thick gray beard, he squinted down at her.

“Sheriff done you a favor,” he said. “Pine Ridge ain’t no place for a woman.”

A woman? She was the owner! “I ‘ily ‘ar-eon!”

Juniper Barns leaned close. “Chuck’s a little rough around the edges,” he whispered, “but trustworthy as they come. He’ll get you to the valley. This is enough fare to take the stage back to ‘Frisco.” His hand pushed into her skirt pocket.

He reached up and stroked her hair, sending a shiver of fear down her spine.

“Swelling’s gone down,” he said. “Do yourself a favor, Lily. Don’t come back.”

You stupid clod! I own this camp! Useless muffles vibrated against the roll of fabric as she tugged at her restraints. Juniper Barns tossed a blanket over her, shrouding her in darkness.

Wait!

A whip cracked.

This wasn’t happening!

“Move, you lazy animals!”

Lily yanked at the handcuffs and twisted in the nest of blankets.

Think, Lily.

She knew all the thought in the world wouldn’t release the bindings holding her captive beneath the blanket.

A few moments later the wagon slowed to a stop and she heard muffled voices.

Reginald!

“It’ll have to go on the back,” said Chuck. “I’m plumb full up here.”

Something thumped into the wagon. The strongbox. Regi must be sending the payroll down to The Grove.

“Where can I find the sheriff’s office?” Regi asked.

She squirmed and tried to scream, drowning out Chuck’s reply. Her muffled screams were lost in the groan and creaks of the wagon as Chuck cracked his whip.

She rocked against the buckboard.

Regi!

Chapter Three

Juniper collapsed into the chair behind his desk, his gaze landing on the revolver he’d taken from Lily. He scrubbed a hand over his face. The rage he’d seen in her emerald gaze ignited a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Her pretty green eyes had blazed with hell’s fury before he’d tossed the blanket over her. He had a notion that when not encumbered by a head injury, Lily Palmer was a force to be reckoned with.

Not unlike her father.

He remembered the ol’ man-hunter quite well. Though rumored to be ruthless in his occupation of bringing in some of the most infamous criminals in the territory, Red Palmer had actually seemed a decent sort of fellow. Juniper had spoken with him several times over at the general store and in the saloon. On many of those occasions he’d mentioned the wife and daughter he had stashed up in the mountains.

Juniper had never been forced to shoot someone he’d been cordial with—until the night Red went after him like a loco steer. He’d never faced a more terrifying adversary. He sure as hell hadn’t expected to live beyond that night. Part of him still wished he hadn’t.

Would he ever outlive his reputation as a gunfighter?

Not likely. The last four years of being a lawman had afforded him some peace, putting his infamous reputation to good use, or at least giving folks pause about approaching him. He’d been trying to build an honest life for himself—but none of it mattered. Watching the mention of his name turn the sweetness in Lily’s smile to undiluted fear brought him back to what he’d always be.

A no-good gunslinger.

He was so damn tired of fighting the past. Juniper closed his eyes, silently praying that Lily Palmer would take his advice.

“Good afternoon.”

Juniper opened his eyes as a little man in a bowler hat and ruffled suit stepped into his office.

“Reginald Carrington,” he said, rushing toward the desk, extending his hand.

“Sheriff Barns,” Juniper said as he stood and shook the man’s slender hand. His last name, dainty grip and frilly white shirt explained a lot. “I take it you’re the new owner.”

“Of sorts. We arrived a short while ago and I seem to have lost my charge.”

“Your charge?”

“My partner, actually. Lily Carrington.”

“Lily Carrington?”

“Yes. She insisted on being present for the inspection and must have taken a notion to have a look around on her own. Quite like Lily, you see. She’s very involved in all of her projects. The boy from the mill suggested I’d find her here.” The man’s brows pinched inward as he glanced around the office.

“She’s not here,” Juniper said, the sick feeling in his stomach turning to a ball of flames. He wondered if this dandy was her husband. “She’s on the ox wagon headed down the mountain.”

“The wagon that just left a short while ago?”

“Yeah.”

“You must be mistaken. We stopped the driver. Lily wasn’t with him.”

“She was, you just didn’t see her because, uh … she was on the buckboard. Under a blanket.”

Reginald’s dark eyes grew wide. “I beg your pardon?”

“Women aren’t allowed up here. She was unconscious when—”

“Good Lord!” Reginald said in alarm. “You knocked her out?”

“Of course not. That was how I found her. She had stepped into the path of a lumber hoist.”

“Is she all right?”

“She seemed all right.” Other than wanting him dead. “When she woke up she didn’t say anything about being a Carrington. She just said her name was Lily. I sent her down the mountain the best way I could without causing a ruckus with the men.”

“If she allowed you to send her off without a fight, she was far from all right! Lily is hardly some docile flower.”

“I noticed.” Juniper rubbed at the tense muscles in the back of his neck. “Believe me, she was fighting mad. Did I mention she was handcuffed under that blanket? And gagged?”

Reginald blinked several times, his expression seeming frozen in place. “You accosted the owner of this camp and sent her—”

“The who?”

“Your boss, Sheriff Barns. Lily is L. P. Carrington. Lily …Palmer … Carrington.”

His slow, clear pronunciation didn’t make the announcement any less of a shock. “Oh, hell.”

“Indeed.” Laughter tickled from Reginald’s throat. “You poor man. Don’t think for a moment I’ll be able to save this situation. Lily controls everything, and her wrath could make the devil tremble.”

Somehow Juniper didn’t doubt it. Cursing, he reached for his hat. “Can you ride?”

The dandy snapped straight as though pricked by a pin. “Of course I can ride. I wouldn’t have kept up with Lily all these years if not.”

“If that means you can keep the devil’s pace and stay in a saddle, you can come with me.”

Outside he motioned toward the brown-and-white mare tethered beside Scout, his chestnut stallion. “You can take Günter’s mount. You’ll likely have to raise the stirrups.”

Reginald didn’t hesitate, stepping up to the horse to make necessary adjustments.

“She your wife?” Juniper asked as he slung into his saddle, the notion refusing to take hold in his mind.

Reginald glanced up from a stirrup. “Heavens, no. Lily’s my second cousin.”

“Then how is she a Carrington?”

“By birthright, Sheriff Barns. Her mother was Rose Carrington, youngest of four siblings to inherit the Carrington fortunes, a quarter of which went to Lily after Aunt Rose’s death.” He mounted the mare with reassuring ease. “A moment with Lily should convince anyone that she’s a Carrington through and through.”

“I don’t think so,” Juniper muttered as he spurred his horse. Reginald had clearly never met Lily’s daddy.

They beat a fast trail out of camp. As they rode down the wide road cut into the mountainside, gunfire echoed across the sky.

What the hell?

Juniper met Reginald’s startled gaze. Both men reined in their horses, listening to an echo that sounded no farther than the next bend in the winding road.

“Hey, Reginald? Why did you stop the wagon?”

“To send our strongbox down to The Grove.”

Juniper’s heart clenched. “You put the payroll on an unarmed wagon?”

“Surely not! We sent our guard along.”

A single armed man? Juniper urged his horse onward, praying the gunfire they’d heard had been warning shots, and that Lily was safely hidden beneath the blankets.

When the load of logs came into view the team of oxen were at a standstill. Chuck was nowhere in sight.

“Chuck!”

“Over here!”

The old teamster stood on a thin strip of tall grass at the side of the road. As Juniper rode close, he noticed a man lying on the ground beside him.

“Poor feller’s dead,” said Chuck. “Was a goddamn coward what shot ‘im.”

“This man didn’t have his gun drawn?” Juniper asked, spotting a rifle and revolver lying in the grass not far off from the stranger’s boots.

Chuck turned his head and spat a stream of chaw. “We knew there was too many of ‘em. Dobbs tossed his guns down right off. They got what they was after, weren’t no call to shoot ‘im.”

“Where’s Lily?” Reginald shouted, reining in beside the wagon.

“Reckon she’s still on the buckboard.”

“She’s not here!” He turned his horse in a full circle, his eyes wide with terror as he glanced up and down the mountainside.

Juniper looked back at Chuck. “You didn’t see them take her?”

“They had me facedown in the grass. I didn’t hear no mention of them finding her, so I figured she was still under the blanket.”

Juniper’s horse leaped back onto the road. Pulling his rifle from a scabbard at the side of his saddle, he fired off three shots, the blasts echoing across the mountain as he set off in the direction of the bandits.

“What was that for?” Reginald shouted, riding up beside him.

“To let them know I’m coming for ‘em. Wait here.”

“She’s my cousin! I’m going after her.”

He didn’t waste time arguing. They raced down the wide dirt road. A mile farther, Juniper rounded another bend and spotted a figure off in the brush.

Lily.

Her wrists were cuffed in front of the bulging mass of her torn skirt. She inched forward, struggling to walk despite her bound ankles.

He pulled up on the reins as relief plowed through him.

They must have dumped her into the thick brush. Dirt and stickers coated her dress. Dried grass clung to her tangled hair. Narrowed green eyes burned into him.

“Lily!” shouted Reginald. He reined in beside her and jumped from his saddle. “Oh, thank God.”

Measuring the rage in Lily’s eyes, Juniper wasn’t quite ready to thank the heavens. She shouted through the roll of fabric in her mouth, and Reginald took a cautious step back.

Juniper dismounted beside him. He held up the key to the cuffs. “You want to—”

“Hell no, man.” Reginald took another step back. “You’re the one who tied her up. You can let her loose.”

Opting for the least lethal position, Juniper stepped behind her to remove the gag. “I’m sorry about this, Miss Carrington,” he said as he loosened the knot on his handkerchief. “Things would have gone differently if you’d told me who you were from the start.”

The moment he pulled the bandanna away, she spun toward him in a whirling flutter of fancy green fabric.

“You’re fired! Do you hear me? Fired!”

“Uh … sweetness? I wouldn’t do that just yet.”

Juniper bypassed her hands and crouched down to undo the binding around her booted ankles.

“He’s fired now! We need to find a real sheriff!”

“Lady,” Juniper said as he straightened, stuffing the second bandanna into his pocket. “I’m as real as it gets up here. If I didn’t govern your camp, you wouldn’t have a logging company left to speak of because your employees would have shredded it to toothpicks after the second pay hold.”

“Uncuff me!” she shouted, holding up her hands.

“I don’t know,” Juniper said, not trusting the lethal glint in her eyes. “I do that and you’re liable to back-shoot me.”

“Front, back, sideways. I’m not choosy at the moment!”

“Lily.” Reginald clamped a hand onto her arm, clearly fearing she was about to attack him.

“This whole situation could have been avoided,” said Juniper, his own temper hanging on by a thread. “What were you thinking to bring a cash box up to this camp with only a single armed guard? Why wasn’t I notified? And why the hell didn’t you tell me you were L. P. Carrington?”

“You shoved your handkerchief into my mouth before I had the chance, binding me up so that I couldn’t even protect myself!”

“I saved your life. If you had identified yourself to those men, I doubt they’d have let you off this mountain. You’re lucky they dropped you on your ass before they figured out who you were, or you’d likely have ended up like your gunman.”

Her eyes flared. “Mr. Dobbs? What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her gaze darted toward her cousin.

“It’s true, love. They shot him.”

“Miss Carrington, I don’t think you understand the dire circumstances you’ve created here. How did you expect to be greeted after asking your men to work for free, when they’d already been waiting on back wages?”

“The company went bankrupt, we were trying to. We came to.” Her voice trailed. She seemed lost somewhere between horror and utter confusion.

Juniper almost felt sorry for her. Other than wanting him dead, she’d obviously had plans to ease the financial strain McFarland and her subsequent pay freeze had placed on the crews. The men had plain tired of waiting. No doubt they’d heard a pot of money was on the mountain and had set out to claim what they believed to be rightfully theirs.

“Give me your hands,” he said.

She held out her wrists without question.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked as he released the first cuff.

“It’s okay.” The second cuff fell open and she pulled her hands away, rubbing at the tender skin behind her short gloves.

He turned from her and mounted his horse. With only two mounts, she wasn’t likely to find her riding options suitable. He didn’t know Günter’s horse well enough to trust Reginald riding double. Scout wouldn’t balk about the extra weight. Used to carting his sisters around, he wouldn’t shy away from Lily’s flapping skirts. Juniper reined in close beside her and leaned down to grip her slender waist. She shrieked as he lifted her.

“Easy, boss,” he said, forcing her stiff legs to bend as he pulled her securely onto his lap. “It’s a short ride back to the wagon.”

To his surprise, she didn’t fight him. She gave a slight nod and quickly averted her gaze. He glanced down at the amber-gold crown of her head, and the grass and twigs poking out from the mass of hair that swirled around her shoulders. The shoulder-to-cuff seam in her green jacket had ripped open, revealing a pink scrape on lily-white skin. Just about every surface of the fancy dress had a rip or snag. The tender skin beneath likely bore bruises from such rough handling.

Guilt festered inside him.

“Miss Carrington, I wouldn’t have put you on that wagon had I thought you’d be in danger.”

Lily shut her eyes, anger and humiliation clashing inside her. “You’re still fired,” she said, the tremble in her voice adding to her distress.

“Of course I am.”

His gentle tone increased the fine trembling of her body. She tried not to notice the heat of his chest against her shoulder and back, or his muscular thighs all but cradling her backside. Every shift of movement was a startling reminder that Juniper Barns was very much a man.

She angled her head slightly, unable to help herself from stealing a glance at him—a handsome rogue who had an entire community fooled into believing he was a man of law-abiding morals. He glanced down and she quickly looked away from the chilling clarity of his blue eyes.

“Did you get a good look at the group of men?”

Dear God, she did not want to talk while sitting on his lap.

His arm tightened about her waist, stiffening her spine. “Lily?”

“Just the one who took me,” she said in a biting tone. “Dark hair, dark eyes and a red handkerchief—clearly a multipurpose tool for outlaws.” Her tongue still dry from the red handkerchief he’d stuffed into her mouth, she glowered up at him. “A moment later I was belly down across his legs and all I saw was moving mountainside. When someone shouted out that a woman had been taken, he was told to dump me. He did just that, after a bit of groping and foul language.”

The indignation of it all sent a sting into her cheeks, along with a delayed lash of fear. Everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t been able to truly comprehend the gravity of being abducted, defenseless against her captors.

“Did you hear his name?”

The chilling quality of Juniper’s low tone drew her gaze. The cold rage in his pale blue eyes increased the chill of her body. His reaction unsettled her, though she couldn’t say why. Perhaps because she’d have expected someone of his nature to find amusement in her mistreatment.

“I didn’t hear any names,” she said, looking away from him, all too aware that she sat in the arms of her father’s killer. “A series of gunshots drew the attention of the others. There was a bunch of shouting. All I saw was a flashing glimpse of horses before I was tossed into the brush.”

“Your warning worked,” Reginald said, riding beside them.

“Thank God for that much.” Juniper spurred his horse into a faster pace. His tight hold increased Lily’s outrage.

It was his fault she’d been taken in the first place! Had he bothered to talk to her before gagging her and tying her up, he wouldn’t have had to save her!

A short while later the wagon came into view, the oxen now facing uphill. Chuck stood at the front of the team, fastening a harness. The large deputy hoisted a roll of blankets onto the load of rough-cut boards. When she realized Mr. Dobbs was wrapped up in them, tears stung at her eyes.

Juniper reined his horse in beside the team of oxen, and for a moment she didn’t mind the security of being surrounded by his strength.

“Sheriff,” said the deputy, his expression glum. “I heard the gunfire. Chuck was just telling me what happened.”

Chuck climbed up to his wagon seat and lifted the reins, seeming impatient to be on his way.

Juniper’s hands closed around her waist, hitching Lily’s breath. “They got off with the payroll cash box,” he said, slowly lowering her to the ground.

The moment her feet touched down she stumbled forward and found her balance. Her gaze stuck on the body Günter continued to tie down.

“Why did they take the woman?” Günter jumped from the wagon and swiped the back of his arm over his wide sweaty brow.

Rage simmered in Juniper’s blood as Lily’s accounts played in his mind. “Can’t think of any reason that isn’t worth hanging for. Once I find out who grabbed her, he’ll be charged with assault and kidnapping. Chuck, did anyone tell you a cash box was on this wagon?”

“Nope. That feller said he had a locked box he needed delivered to The Grove office.” Chuck motioned to Reginald as he stepped beside Lily.

Juniper’s narrowed gaze moved between them. “This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”

“If you hadn’t shipped me off like a hog trussed for roasting, Reginald wouldn’t have been left to make decisions without me!”

“I’m sorry, Lily,” said Reginald. “We had the files we needed. Grimshaw went over the documentation and gave his approval. He and Mr. Dobbs agreed the payroll should be put in the safe kept in The Grove as soon as possible. They thought it’d be safest to send it down on the wagon, so as not to attract attention.”

“Grimshaw couldn’t have read any written orders,” Juniper said, knowing now how word had likely gotten out about the cash box. Jim couldn’t read, and Juniper figured any number of men could have overheard them talking at the millhouse. “Chuck, did you recognize anyone?”

“They all had their faces covered like a buncha stage robbers. With all of ‘em shouting to get on the ground, it was hard to hear any one voice. Had to be near fifteen of ‘em. They come right over the side of that mountain,” he said, motioning to the incline across the road. “They knew the money was there. Started fighting over how to open that locked box before they got it loaded. Heard a mention of John’s place. Reckon his woman’s hurtin’ pretty bad.”

Juniper bit back a curse. That meant Calvin had likely been with them. His widowed sister and her five children had been waiting for the last of John’s wages.

“Who’s John?” asked Lily.

“A good man who believed this camp would come through for him,” Juniper told her. “So he kept working when others left, even though the smaller crews compromised their safety. It cost him his life. His wife and their five children have been waiting on the last of his wages for two months. What exactly did you expect these men to do while you got all your pretty little ducks in a row?”

“To have some understanding. I sent notices—”

“Notices won’t buy much at a mercantile, Miss Carrington. Plenty of these men have families who depend on that income to make ends meet. To buy food and keep roofs over their heads.”

“Surely they have some savings set aside for—”

“Savings?” Lily Palmer Carrington was burning through his patience like fire through a haystack. “Most of your employees have never stepped foot in a bank because they’ve got nothing to put there. They work to get by, Miss Carrington.”

“I realize—”

“No, you don’t. You’ve got no business being out here. You belong in San Francisco.”

“Do not tell me where I belong! You are the one who belongs … in …”

“Hell?” Juniper supplied. “Right beside your father?”

Her green eyes flared with rage. “How dare you!”

“Enough!” Reginald stepped between them. “Lily, what’s going on?”

Her lower lip slid between white teeth as her gaze moved between Juniper and her cousin.

“What’s the matter, Miss Carrington? Didn’t you fill Reginald in on your plans for revenge?”

“Lily?”

“If I’m cartin’ this poor dead feller back up to camp,” said Chuck, “I need to get goin’. I want to be down this mountain before nightfall.”

Juniper turned to Günter.

His deputy splayed his hands wide in question. “You tell me. What do we do?”

He needed to get away from this woman before he lost his temper or, worse yet, she found another revolver. “See the Carringtons back to camp so they can make arrangements for their man and collect their belongings before being escorted to The Grove. Go straight to the kitchen and have Cook tell you which men didn’t show up for dinner. That could help us narrow this down. Then meet me at Frank’s livery. If I’m not there, he’ll know where to find me.”

Günter gave a firm nod. He turned toward Miss Carrington. “You wish to ride on the wagon?”

She glanced at the horse Mr. Dobbs had been riding, then leveled those shrewd green eyes on Juniper. “Where are you going?”

“To recover the cash box. I think I know what will likely be the first stop of our Good Samaritans.”

“Good Samaritans?”

“In their minds, though I admit they’ve gone about it all wrong.”

“They shot my guard and stole my money!”

“They took what they believed you owed them, Miss Carrington.”

“What we owed an entire camp, not one group of thugs. How can you defend murderers? Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she added, crossing her arms as she glared up at him.

Juniper glared right back. “Only one man pulled that trigger, and he’ll be found and charged with the crime. I’ll get your money back, Miss Carrington.”

“Not without us, you won’t.” Lily strode toward Dobbs’s black horse, and Juniper had to clench his jaw to keep from swearing.

“Let the man do his job, Lil’,” Reginald said, a blessed voice of reason.

“I plan to make certain he does.” Her tiny form swung into the high saddle in a most unladylike fashion, and with an ease that shocked him. “We can’t move forward until the payroll is recovered and properly distributed.” She tucked the excess folds of her fancy skirt securely beneath her slender white knees, then shifted in the saddle as though reacquainting herself with what had once been familiar.

“Which is why we’re riding along. Reginald.”

Her stiff-backed tone put a pinch in Juniper’s spine. He glanced at poor Reginald. The man’s weary expression threatened to dash the last of his hope. “What are my chances of talking her into staying at the camp?”

Reginald shook his head. “I always knew she’d be the death of me,” he said in a whimper, and started toward his horse. “I just thought it would take a little longer.”

Glancing back at Lily sitting stiffly in the saddle, Juniper knew it wasn’t the dandy’s death she had her heart set on.

It was his.

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