"I've been tracking men like him for years, ma'am. I know how their minds work. He'll show up here. I'd bet a month's pay on it."
Maddie's stomach knotted as she bounded out of the chair. "But I can't have a man staying here. What will people think?"
"Folks won't think anything. It's too dangerous for you to stay here, so you should pack up a few things and head into town until this blows over."
"What? That's ridiculous," Maddie gushed. "Caleb is dead, and he never mentioned money to me, so what danger could I possibly be in?" she asked, faking a bravado she didn't feel.
"Tyler Boone is a wanted man, a killer."
Maddie shrugged. "I have a gun I'm prepared to use. Besides, I have too much to do. This homestead is all I have, and I have to earn a living or I'll lose that, too. If I don't stick to my routine, I'll never get all the chores done."
The marshal's glance swept around the yard. "How exactly do you make a living out here?"
Maddie pulled herself up to her full height, the pride she felt evident in her voice when she spoke. It would take months, perhaps even years, to feel completely self-sufficient, but she was proud of the steps she'd taken towards independence since Caleb died. For the first time since the marshal showed up, she felt a smile creep onto her face. "I've just made arrangements with the general store in Willow Creek to provide them with butter and cheese, as well as soap and candles. I'm just starting out, you understand, so if I don't fulfill my committments, it'll destroy my business even before it gets established, not to mention what a man's presence here would do to my reputation."
"I see," he said thoughtfully.
"Besides, you still haven't given me any reason to suspect he'll come back here."
"I'm as sure of it as I am that the sun will come up in the morning. He'll be back, first to take care of Caleb and second to collect the money. And since Caleb's already dead, he'll figure you know where the money is."
"But I don't know--"
The marshal raised his hand. "Tyler Boone doesn't know that. He won't believe you. If you don't give it to him, he'll probably decide to kill you instead. And since he hasn't had a woman in the last two years ..." His voice trailed off. It wasn't necessary to finish the thought.
His gaze swept over her much the way Caleb's had done when he'd first courted her. "That'd be a real waste." Again, her heart did its little dance, and suddenly, it seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Heavens, what was wrong with her?
Taking a deep breath, she looked away until the sensation left. "How do you know Caleb even hid the money around here?"
"I don't. But it's safe to assume he'd hide it somewhere he could get to it quickly. They both grew up here. They'd know every tree, every creek for miles. They'd know where to stash the money so nobody'd find it."
Maddie supposed his reasoning was sound, although she hated to admit it.
"Now do you understand? You can't stay here," the marshal said. "It's too dangerous."
If nothing else, she'd made one decision since Caleb died. Never again would a man tell her what to do. Whether she was right or wrong, she would make her own decisions. "That's where you're wrong, Marshal. I'm not leaving." She glared at him, daring him to argue further.
He leaned forward, trapping her gaze with his. Gold flecks twinkled out of his hazel eyes, and he was close enough that she noticed a small chip out of one of his teeth, the only flaw in an otherwise perfectly white set. And lips that she sensed would be both gentle and demanding all at the same time. She couldn't keep her eyes off them.
"Tyler Boone has a reputation as one of the most vicious men in the state," the marshal went on. "Once he finds out Caleb's dead, you're his only lead to the money. He won't take kindly to you holding out on him."
Maddie laughed. He must be joking. "In the first place, I'm not alone. My mother is here with me. She's quite ill, but she's still very capable. And in the second place, take a good look around, marshal. Does this place look like I have any money?"
The marshal turned away from her and looked out, and Maddie followed the direction of his gaze. Then she turned her attention back to him, noticing his brow crease in a frown. Surely she'd finally made her point.
His gaze swept the yard, and for a moment she was a little embarrassed at the disrepair of the homestead. The chicken coop needed fixing, the barn roof leaked like a sieve, and the paint on the front porch had peeled off in places, leaving the bare wood to the mercy of the Wyoming climate. One of the porch stairs was cracked, and if she wasn't careful where she stepped, one of these days she'd fall right through and probably break her leg.
Finally, he turned back to her. "Even so, he'll be back. And if you don't tell him where the money is, he'll kill you. You need me, and I intend to protect you and your mother whether you want me to or not. It's my job."
She glared at him. "Wrong again, Marshal. I don't need you to protect me. I don't need anybody. I can take care of my mother and myself quite well."
A hint of a smile quirked the corners of his lips. "I'm sure you can. But right now I'm in charge. I want Tyler Boone. And I'm not leaving here until I get him. If you insist on staying here, stay out of sight."
"I will not. I told you, this homestead takes work, from morning until night. I don't have time to stay indoors in case Caleb's brother shows up here. This is my land, and I have every right to shoot trespassers."
She reached down and picked up the rifle. Somehow, feeling the cold metal in her hand gave her courage. "Right now, you're coming very close to taking a bullet. If you want to catch Tyler, do it somewhere else. This is a big country. You can set up camp anywhere you please, as long as it's not on my land. Now get out!"
"No." He stood up then and moved towards her. Her heart began to pound. Why she would react this way, she didn't know, but she didn't like the feeling one bit.
"I mean it," she repeated, louder this time. "I'll shoot you right where you stand."
"Sorry, ma'am. I'm not leaving. So you'd better just fire that thing and get it over with, or put it down before you hurt yourself."
The man was daring her to fire! Of all the arrogant, egotistical--
She couldn't shoot a man. Lord knows she'd had reasons to in the past, but even then, she couldn't bring herself to take a life. Damn him if he hadn't seen right through her bold talk and recognized just what a coward she really was.
"Fine," she ground out. "You can stay. But you'll earn your keep. There's enough work around here to keep three men busy. There's oats and hay in the barn for your horse, and you can sleep in there, too. Supper's at six o'clock. Sharp."
With a final glare at being outmaneuvered, she turned and stomped into the house, giving the door a heavy shove to make sure it slammed behind her.
Wild Wyoming Wind is now available on Amazon
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