Bodyguards Boxed Set

by Julianne MacLean

  Truman took a good look at each of the five men, but one in particular caught his eye. The man wore a brand new Stetson on his head and a red bandanna around his neck. He had a common face, nothing unusual about him, and yet he looked familiar. “Any of you boys been in Dodge before?”

  They all glanced at each other, while the familiar one rolled a cigarette. “Don’t reckon we have,” he said, without looking Truman in the eye.

  “You gentlemen are just passing through then.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a very strong suggestion.

  Turning back toward Truman, Bart sported a glare that would stop a train. He spit tobacco onto the floor next to Truman’s boots.

  “You better be careful where you spit, Mister,” Truman warned him. “I’m likely to get insulted by your stinkin’ mouth.”

  Bart slowly rose from the chair and showed off his size. He was a buffalo, complete with the foul odor and unsightly hump on his back.

  In the flash of a second, one man at the table drew a weapon. By the time his gun went off, it was flying through the air, riding on Truman’s bullet, which lodged in the wall behind them. Dust floated from the ceiling onto the man’s hat, and his gun landed in a spittoon. He swallowed hard, then looked at Bart with eyes wide as saucers.

  Truman cocked his weapon again. Corey’s jaw clenched. He drew and fired. Half a second later, Corey’s revolver was spinning on the floor behind him.

  Truman was getting tired of this game. He pointed his six-shooter at each man at the table, daring anyone else to draw. No one did.

  “Okay, Sheriff,” Bart said. “You’ve proved your point. That’s enough boys. We don’t want any more trouble.” Bart sat back down and waved at Wendy to bring a bottle.

  Truman backed away from the table. “I expect you boys’ll be leavin’ town first thing?”

  “We’ll be gone before you know it,” Bart replied, without looking up.

  Turning to leave, Truman flipped a coin toward the barkeep, who caught it in his hand. He pushed through the saloon doors, hopped off the boardwalk, and freed Thunder from the hitching rail.

  Just then, Wendy came running out of the saloon. “Sheriff Wade!”

  He paused, still holding the reins.

  “Those men in there…” she said. “Do you know who they are?”

  “They look like a bunch of ignorant horse thieves to me. Other than that—”

  “They used to ride with Left Hand Lou.”

  Truman glanced back into the saloon and suddenly remembered where he had seen the one who was rolling the cigarette—sleeping in a jail cell once, a couple of years back.

  Truman laid a reassuring hand on Wendy’s shoulder, then turned away and hoisted himself up into the saddle.

  “Aren’t you going to arrest them?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “No time to explain now. Let me know if they cause any more trouble. There’s something I gotta do.”

  Wendy backed away, and Truman galloped off. He had something to tell Miss Delaney, and he had to tell her now.

  * * *

  FROM THE SECOND story bedroom window of Mr. Maxwell’s house, Jessica saw a horse and rider galloping up the hill, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. She recognized that black hat and black coat sailing on the wind. It was Sheriff Wade.

  She watched him ride up to the house and dismount, then take Mr. Maxwell’s front steps, two at a time, to the top. A quick second later, rapid knocks sounded at the door. Jessica’s heart began to race. Something was definitely wrong.

  Before she had a chance to put on her shoes, the screen door swung open and Wade barged in. “Anyone here?”

  Jessica called out to him. “I’m upstairs!”

  His heavy boots pounded up the stairs, and suddenly there he was, filling her bedroom doorway with his striking, black-clad form. He halted when he caught sight of her, as if he’d just walked in on a naked lady.

  “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” she said, as she struggled to calm her raging pulse.

  Wade glanced at the brass bed. He went speechless for a second, as if he realized, only then, the impropriety of where he was—but he recovered quickly, and his eyes caught hers.

  Boldly, he strode into the room.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “You can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?”

  Tension simmered behind those compelling blue eyes. “Because you’re going to need some protection.”

  Without another word of explanation, he led her toward the stairs.

  “Tell me what’s happened,” she said. “I need to know.”

  They descended the stairs together, and when they reached the ground floor, he moved to the parlor window and peered out onto the street. “Someone wants you dead.”

  The words reverberated off the walls before they finally settled into her consciousness. “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “That outlaw you gunned down had some friends,” he explained, “and they decided to pay a visit to Dodge.”

  She shook her head, refusing to accept what he was suggesting. “Maybe they just came to pay their respects. Lou’s funeral is tomorrow.”

  “Men like them don’t have much respect for anything,” Wade argued. “You’re the reason they’re here. I’ll put money on it.”

  She moved closer. “You mean they want revenge?”

  “That would be my guess.”

  A terrible dread exploded in her belly. She sank down onto a chair and cupped her forehead in a hand. “ God, if you’re listening—this isn’t funny. Please get me out of here.”

  Sheriff Wade frowned at her. “Where exactly would you like Him to send you?”

  She looked up and found herself staring at that shiny star again. “I have to tell you something,” she said. “I didn’t kill Lou. Honest. Someone else did.”

  He shook his head. “That ain’t gonna work, Junebug. You can’t go changing your story now.”

  “But I’m telling the truth!”

  He paused for a moment, then looked out the window again. “We don’t have time to argue about it. We have to go.” He made a move toward the door, but Jessica remained seated.

  “If we tell them I didn’t do it—”

  “Nobody’s going to believe that,” he told her. “Lou’s death was worth five hundred dollars. You trying to tell me somebody else killed him and didn’t bother to collect the reward?”

  “Yes! I don’t know why, but that’s what happened. I didn’t kill him.”

  Wade studied her warily, and she wondered if he’d ever believe anything she said.

  “We don’t have time for this,” he replied at last. “We have to get you out of here.”

  “But where will I go? They’ll find me.”

  He strode closer and held out his hand, gesturing strongly that she accept it. “I’ll see that they don’t.”

  “But what makes you so sure you can keep me safe? There’s only one of you.”

  He stared at her intently, then knelt down and took both her hands in his.

  “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, but you have to come with me now.”

  He was so close, she could smell his clean, outdoorsy scent, and those hands—those killer hands—were so warm upon hers.

  “Okay.”

  She was always such a sucker for a man who asked nicely.

  Something faintly reassuring sparked in his eyes as he rose to his full height, and Jessica felt a sudden charge of connection, an inexplicable bond between them.

  “Do you need to pack anything?” he asked. “You may not be back here for a while.”

  “How long is a while?”

  “Hard to say.”

  She looked down at her dress. “I don’t really own anything else, other than my jeans and jacket. I was going to buy another dress when I got the reward money.”

  He inclined his head, as if confounded by her reply, then started for the door. “L
et’s go, then.”

  “But wait. I should leave a note for Angus.”

  She ran up the stairs and pulled a sheet of paper out of his desk.

  After tacking the explanation of her whereabouts to his bedroom door, she took one hurried look around her room, then headed for the stairs. She stopped dead at the top, however, when Sheriff Wade shouted up at her.

  “Jessica! Stay where you are!”

  “Why?”

  “There’s a rider coming, and he’s got a gun.”

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  JESSICA HURRIED BACK into her room, slammed the door shut and locked it. She dashed to the window. Outside, a man on a brown horse reached into his saddlebag, withdrew something that looked like a baseball, and pitched it. Glass smashed in the other bedroom. Jessica ducked down and hit the floor, afraid the rider might see her and fire a shot.

  A frantic moment later, she heard him gallop away. The blinding terror of the hoof beats faded into the distance.

  Barely able to breathe over the crazy velocity of her heart, Jessica got to her feet and sank into the wing-backed chair, resting her hand on her heaving chest, listening numbly to Sheriff Wade’s boots tapping up the stairs.

  “Jessica!” The knob turned and the door rattled. “Open up. It’s me. He’s gone.”

  She rushed to let him in. “He had a gun.”

  “I know.” Wade pulled her into his arms and held her. “You all right?”

  Resting her cheek on his chest, Jessica listened to the heavy rhythm of his heart. His hand cupped the nape of her neck, and she slid her arms around his waist.

  “I thought he was going to come in here and shoot me,” she said.

  He rubbed his chin over the top of her head. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Suddenly conscious of the emotion rising up within her, she drew back slightly, gripped his coat lapels in her fists, and looked up at him with parted lips. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it very badly.

  He frowned—as if he were angry that she had lured him, against his will, into holding her like this and caring about her safety.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he gently pushed her away before she had a chance to speak.

  “I heard a window break,” he said.

  She pointed. “The other room.”

  He took her by the hand and led her down the hall to Angus’s room.

  Sharp slivers of broken glass covered the floor. Sheriff Wade stepped carefully across the braided rug, while Jessica waited in the doorway, still shaken by her fear and the unexpected intimacy they’d just shared.

  Crouching down on his hands and knees, he reached under the bed and pulled out a large stone with a note tied around it. He read the note, then frowned at Jessica.

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  Without a word of explanation, he handed her the note as he passed by her on his way out of the room.

  She stood in the doorway, reading it with eyes that refused to stay focused.

  HAND IT OVER OR DIE.

  “Sheriff Wade!” She quickly followed him down the stairs. “Where are you going?”

  He was already halfway out the door. “I should be strung up and left to rot.”

  “Why?” She followed him out onto the porch.

  “You just lied to me again, didn’t you?” he asked as he untied the leather reins from the bottom post. “About not shooting Lou.”

  “No!” she insisted, feeling the sting of his words more than she cared to admit. “I don’t know what this note means. You have to believe me.”

  He looked up. “Think hard. They want something you have. What is it?”

  She was more confused now than she had been the night she arrived. “I don’t know! Maybe the reward money? Maybe they killed Lou.”

  He bowed his head so that she couldn’t see his face under the brim of his hat. “I don’t know when to believe you, and when not to. It feels like you’re always hiding something.”

  She knew she couldn’t continue to lie to him, because it was pointless. He could see right through her.

  “Okay,” she admitted at last. “I am keeping something from you, but it’s not what you think.”

  His shoulders lifted noticeably.

  “But I can’t tell you what it is,” she added, picking up her skirts to move down the steps.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’d never believe it anyway. All I can say is that my secret has nothing to do with Lou. Honestly, I didn’t shoot him.” She approached Wade and laid her hand on his arm, hoping to keep him from riding away from her when at that moment she needed him more than ever.

  “Why’d you say you did, if you didn’t?”

  “Because I wanted to get out of jail,” she explained. “Angus said it was the simplest thing to do.”

  Sheriff Wade removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “Either way, you lied to me, and it’s not so easy to trust you now.”

  “Please trust me,” she pleaded, “at least about this. I didn’t kill Lou or anyone else for that matter. I swear it on my life.”

  He stared at her a moment while he considered it. “I know this much at least. Lou’s gang didn’t shoot him.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because these guys have a keen appreciation for easy money. They would’ve come forward for the reward, and everyone knows you don’t have it yet.”

  “But they’re outlaws, aren’t they? Maybe they didn’t want to get arrested.”

  He shook his head. “They’re not wanted for anything at the moment. The governor gave them a pardon for trading information about Lou a while back.”

  She regarded him keenly. “So they were his enemies… Doesn’t that give them a motive, and make them suspects?”

  “Maybe, but it still doesn’t explain why they didn’t come forward for the money right away if they were the ones who shot him. Besides, they only rode into town this afternoon.” He took the note she still held in her hand and read it again. His eyes lifted. They glimmered darkly with resolve. “I won’t help you unless you tell me the truth. What is it they want from you? Whatever it is, I reckon it’s mighty important.”

  She shrugged helplessly. “I already told you everything I know. I didn’t kill Lou, and I have no idea what they’re after.”

  He looked away toward the stockyards as if sorting through everything in his mind. Then at last he faced her.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll help you, but to do that, I have to take you away from here.”

  She breathed deeply with relief as he placed a booted foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up into the saddle.

  “You coming?” He held his hand down to her.

  Jessica took an uneasy step back. “Uh, I’ve never been on a horse before.”

  Looking more than a little surprised, he leaned forward and crossed his wrists over the saddle horn. “Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?”

  She shook her head.

  He studied her for a moment, then leaned back. “Well, the way I see it, you can either get up here and ride with me, or you can wait for that plug-ugly border ruffian to come back.” He thumbed his hat back off his forehead as he scanned the horizon. “I sure as hell ain’t waitin’ around.”

  Jessica shifted her weight from one foot to the other, while her stomach rolled with anxiety. “What’s his name?”

  “Thunder.” Wade stroked and patted the horse’s neck. “He’s as steady as they come.”

  She let her gaze roam over Thunder’s muscular neck and strong legs.

  Finally, with no choice but to surrender to her fate, she offered her hand, and Truman pulled her up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Relax and hold on to me,” Wade said, as he clicked his tongue to urge Thunder into a slow canter.

  They crossed a few back streets, and Jessica slowly adjusted to the rhythm of the horse’s ga
it. It was nerve-racking at first, but she soon caught on, opened her eyes, and marveled at the impossible circumstances of her life. Here she was, riding across a prairie town on the back of a horse, to escape a gang of outlaws in the Wild West.

  Not to mention the fact that her arms were wrapped around a gorgeous gunslinger’s waist, and she could feel the firm bands of muscle at his torso where her forearm was resting on his revolver, and she was overwhelmingly aware of his appealing strength and masculinity.

  He was unlike any man she had ever met. He wasn’t addicted to texting or Tweeting, and he would never brag about the label on his suits or care about a spot on the leather interior of his luxury car.

  Truman Wade had more important things on his mind. Like preventing violence.

  And he smelled so…

  Outdoorsy .

  She fought to distract herself from the intoxicating aroma of his rugged appeal, to focus on more critical matters.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Back to the jailhouse.”

  Jessica lifted her chin off his shoulder. “But isn’t that right in the middle of town? Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Leave the decisions to me, Junebug. I know what I’m doing.”

  They rode up to the back door of the jailhouse, and he dismounted and lifted her down. Then Wade tethered Thunder to a post.

  Dempsey met them at the door. “I heard about Lou’s gang. Wendy told me. She said they left the saloon talking about scaring somebody.”

  “Yeah, well, they did a pretty good job,” Wade replied. “They delivered this note to Miss Delaney.” He handed the wrinkled sheet of paper to Dempsey as he escorted Jessica into the office.

  “What do they want?” Dempsey asked, following them inside.

  Wade sat down at his desk. “We don’t know yet.”

  At least he seemed to believe her for once, Jessica thought, as she took a seat on the stool near the far cabinet.

  “Did Wendy hear anything else?” Wade asked Dempsey. “Did they say where they planned to spend the night?”

  “No, but Bart has kin at the Triple T Ranch. Maybe they’re riding out there.”