Rogue Gunslinger & Hunting Down the Horseman

by B. J Daniels

  The wind whipped snow into his face and down his neck. He shivered and hurriedly grabbed an armload of split firewood to take back inside. By now, TJ would have read far enough that she’d have an opinion. Feeling as if he was about to step in front of a firing squad, he told himself he could take whatever she had to offer, and pushed open the door to the cabin.

  At first he didn’t see her. The chair was empty and for one heart-stopping moment, he thought she had taken off out the back door. But as his gaze shifted, he saw her standing on one foot by the woodstove. She had the small kettle handle in one hand and was pouring boiling water in each of his mismatched mugs.

  He dropped the load of wood in the bin near the stove and tried to slow his pulse. “You shouldn’t be on your ankle.”

  “I hopped over. The kettle was boiling.” She studied him. “You thought I’d left.”

  “I thought I was going to have to try to find you out in that storm. I wasn’t looking forward to it.”

  She nodded. “That’s the only reason?”

  “Maybe I like your company.” He could tell that wasn’t what she meant at all. She thought he’d lured her here and that he was never going to let her leave. “Here, let me finish the tea.” He helped her over to the chair and she dropped into it. “Are you warm enough?”

  She nodded and seemed to watch him as he went back to the stove, returning with her cup of tea.

  “I’d ask if you want sugar...”

  “Constance Ryan takes sugar in her coffee, not me,” she said, taking the mug of tea. “We aren’t our characters.”

  “Aren’t we? I knew you took your coffee black. Wasn’t sure about tea.” He thought of his own protagonist in the book he’d started. It was him and it wasn’t. But still there was so much of him in his words that he felt vulnerable, something he’d seldom felt even on duty as a cop.

  TJ sipped her tea as he hung up his coat and walked back to the counter to pick up his mug.

  “I hate to even ask,” he said, seeing his chapter lying on the footstool near the chair. He couldn’t tell if she’d read any of it, let alone the whole chapter.

  * * *

  TJ NOTICED THE way the large mug disappeared in his hands. Silas seemed so gentle and yet she’d seen the way his muscles had bulged when he’d carried in the wood. For a man his size, he moved with a grace that again reminded her of a mountain lion.

  “You have talent, but I don’t have to tell you that,” she said as she picked up the chapter from the stool and he moved to it to sit down. “I was drawn right into your story. I wanted to read more.” He was eyeing her as if he was waiting for a “but.” “You’ve had other people read some of your book, right? I’m sure they’ve told you...”

  He shook his head. “You’re the first and only.”

  She couldn’t help being surprised. “Then you really didn’t know.”

  “I’m trying to decide if you’re just being nice.”

  “I’m not. The one thing I learned a long time ago was that people who tell you you’re better than you are are of no help. You need real criticism if you’re going to get better, and I believe we have to continue to strive to do so.”

  He seemed to let out a breath before taking a sip of his tea. “Like I said, I enjoy writing so I’ll keep going, but I’m overjoyed to hear it’s okay.”

  “It’s more than okay,” she said. “I won’t promise you that you can have a career writing. Just being good isn’t enough. It takes determination and some luck.”

  “I have the determination. I’m not so sure about the luck.” He smiled. “But I feel lucky right now. It’s nice to have company.”

  They drank their tea in the comfort of the cabin as the storm raged on outside. The stove popped and crackled. Silas got up to throw more wood on the fire, then turned and looked at her shyly. “You wouldn’t be interested in playing some cards, would you?”

  She laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t even care. Crazy eights. Old maid. Five-card stud. I love to play cards and I’m sick of solitaire.”

  “My sisters and I used to play all the time. Do people still play with actual cards now that they have virtual games?”

  “I have no idea,” he said as he brought over a deck of worn cards. From a space behind her chair, he pulled out a small folding table. “You can even beat me. That’s how desperate I am,” he said with a laugh.

  TJ snuggled into the chair. She hadn’t played cards in years. She watched Silas shuffle the deck and realized she was beginning to trust him. She hoped that wouldn’t be her last mistake.

  Chapter Eleven

  They played cards until after midnight. Silas couldn’t recall a time he’d had more fun. TJ was an excellent player no matter what game they played. She challenged him. He couldn’t remember the last woman who’d done that. She’d relaxed during their games and he’d gotten to see the woman behind the best seller.

  She was fun and funny, sharp-witted. He liked her, and not just because she thought he had talent.

  It wasn’t until the last game that she began to look nervous again. He put the cards away and went to the built-in drawers on the other side of the bed. Pulling out one of his T-shirts, he held it up.

  “I think this will cover everything but your toes if you’re interested in wearing it to sleep in,” he said. “I’ll go out and get some more wood and give you a chance to change. Or you can sleep in your clothes. Whatever you prefer.” He put the T-shirt down on the bed. “You need to go out back first?”

  She shook her head. They’d made several trips out to the bathroom earlier during their card games.

  “Sorry, I don’t have a spare toothbrush. Wasn’t expecting company, but there is toothpaste and water by the sink. Let me know if there is anything else you need.” He headed for his coat by the door.

  Once outside, he killed time thinking about True Fan. If it hadn’t been for this crazed reader, he might never have gotten this close to TJ. That was a thought he wasn’t about to share. He also tried not imagining her in his T-shirt. The thought made him grin and ache at the same time.

  It had been so long since he’d been truly interested in a woman. He blamed it on everything that had been going on in his life. But he knew that had only been part of it. He’d missed the companionship. Hell, he’d missed the sex. And just thinking of TJ wearing his T-shirt... He shook off the thought.

  If he wanted this to go any further, he’d best take it slow. The woman was beyond skittish. She was running scared. Not just that. She still didn’t trust him. He hoped to fix that.

  He warned himself that she’d be gone as soon as the storm quit. That’s if her sisters didn’t show up with the National Guard and probably half the county’s lawmen before the night was over. Otherwise, he would get her out of the mountains in the morning one way or another.

  The thought that he might not see her again was almost physically painful. He’d been captivated by her since her first book. Now that he’d gotten to spend this time with her, well, he didn’t want it to end.

  That alone surprised him. He dated in New York, but usually he was fine only seeing a woman a time or two. He didn’t feel that way about TJ—even if he hadn’t been worried about her.

  Loading up another armful of wood, he tapped at the door. Hearing nothing, he stepped in. She was tucked in bed, the down comforter up to her chin. She looked so damned cute in his bed. He quickly closed the door on a blast of snow and wind and, turning his back to her, dumped the wood and took off his coat.

  Seeing her in his bed made him ache. It also threw him a little off-balance. He felt both protective and attracted to this woman. Just the thought of kissing her... “Have everything you need?” he asked, his voice sounded strange to his ears.

  She nodded and watched him with just her eyes as he went to the area by the bed, opened a cabinet a
nd pulled out his sleeping bag.

  Rolling it out on the rug in front of the fire, he turned out the lights and lay down on top of it. A moment later, she tossed him a pillow from the bed.

  “Thanks,” he said into the quiet darkness. The storm had let up a little. He felt like he did when he was a kid at a sleepover. He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to talk about all the things that interested him, from life on other planets, to Big Foot’s possible existence, to what TJ’s favorite Christmas gift of all time was.

  “Do you remember lying in bed waiting for Santa?” she asked from the darkness.

  He chuckled. “I do. I never wanted to close my eyes. I was afraid I’d miss it.”

  “I hated it when I found out he wasn’t real.”

  “He’s not?” The fire crackled and after a few moments, he realized that she’d gone to sleep.

  * * *

  TJ WOKE TO find the cabin empty. The bedroll and pillow were no longer on the floor in front of the woodstove. And while a fire was going, Silas was nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, she saw that the pillow she’d tossed him was lying next to her on the bed. His bedroll had apparently been put away.

  Had he only gone to the outhouse and would be back any minute?

  She heard something outside. For a moment she thought it was his heavy tread on the porch, but soon realized it was him trying to start his pickup. She threw back the covers and got up. Her ankle was better, only tender to the touch and black and blue along one side.

  Silas had been right about his T-shirt. It fell to her ankles. As she slipped it off, she sniffed it as if she thought it might contain his scent. She held it for a moment, feeling like a teenage girl again, before tossing it on the bed and quickly pulling on the clothes she’d worn. She’d moved to the chair and was putting on her socks when she heard him come up the porch stairs and into the cabin.

  “Good morning!” he greeted her, brushing snow off his coat and stomping it from his boots before stepping in on the rug. “Truck’s cleared off and the motor turned right over after a few tries. If I have to, I can chain up all four tires to get us out of here. I wasn’t sure how much of a hurry you’re in to get home.”

  Last night she’d been champing at the bit. This morning, she hated to leave this cabin. Hated to leave Silas. Which was why she needed to, even if she wasn’t worried that her sisters would be frantic.

  She glanced around the cabin. “I can go whenever you’re ready. I appreciate your taking me back to town.”

  “Not a problem. I’ve enjoyed having you here. But I’m not much of a host if I don’t offer you breakfast,” he said.

  She was tempted. The warmth of this cabin, the scent of homemade bread, the good-natured, handsome man standing in the doorway. At that moment, she desperately wanted Silas Walker to be anything but True Fan.

  “Thank you, but I really should get back. My sisters will be worried even after the text.” Actually, more worried after the text.

  He nodded, not looking any more anxious to leave than she was. “I’ll be in the pickup. Come out when you’re ready.” He turned then and disappeared back outside.

  TJ stepped to the hooks by the door, pulled down her coat, tugged on her snow-pants and boots. She took one last look around the cabin, thinking she might never see it again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the typewriter. Curiosity killed the cat and every B movie heroine who decided to see what the noise was in the basement. Still, she moved to the typewriter and shuffled through the papers. Just pages of his book. She checked the trash can next to it. No partial letters written in too much haste.

  Silas Walker wasn’t True Fan. But Silas wouldn’t be living out here in the woods unless he was running from something. She hated that she was thinking like her sister Chloe, the investigative reporter. But something had to explain those glimpses of darkness she’d seen in his blue eyes.

  Walking out of the cabin, she limped her way through the deep snow to the pickup, where he was waiting behind the wheel. He leaned over the seat, pushed open the passenger side door and held it for her to get in.

  “Shoot, I forgot about your ankle,” he said. “I should have offered to help you.”

  “It’s better, but thank you. Are you always so cheerful in the morning?” she asked.

  “Do I detect that you aren’t?” he asked with a laugh as he shifted the pickup into low gear. “Cross your fingers.”

  They chugged up the hill, the back of the pickup sliding a few times before they reached the road she’d come down earlier. There was no sign that anyone had been down the road last night.

  “Okay,” Silas said with a sigh of relief. “That was the worst of it. At least I hope so.”

  The sun topped the pines, making the fresh snow sparkle so bright that it was blinding. “It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. “I’d forgotten days like this.”

  He glanced over at her, but said nothing as he quickly turned back to his driving. The pickup bucked and slid and chugged until they reached an even wider snowy dirt road and finally the plowed, though snow-packed highway.

  Silas patted the dash and said, “I knew you could do it, Gertrude.”

  “Gertrude?” she asked with a laugh. She was relieved they’d gotten out of the mountains without any trouble. She was also relieved that the easiness between them had returned.

  “Be careful,” Silas joked. “Don’t insult her.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” TJ said.

  “Old Gert here reminds me of Constance.”

  She lifted a brow as she looked over at him. “Your truck reminds you of the heroine in my books?” She couldn’t help feeling a little offended, since she and Constance had a lot in common. No man had ever compared her to a pickup.

  “Both Gert and Connie are dependable. They’re up for anything when you need them. They both have their own kind of charm.”

  TJ smiled. “Well, when you put it that way...”

  He chuckled and drove, looking comfortable behind the wheel even though the highway was slick and the landscape so white that it was hard to tell where the two-lane began and ended.

  Normally, TJ would have been nervous about going off the road and ending up in a snowbank. But there was something about Silas that was a lot like his truck.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” TJ said when Silas pulled up in front of the house. “It was interesting and...fun.”

  He grinned. “Glad to hear it. I was delighted for the company. It was nice visiting with you. But I hope we see each other soon.” He jumped out to open her door. “I meant what I said about helping find that fan of yours. If I can figure out which house I went to for that garage sale and what happened to the woman who sold me the paper, do you want to go with me to talk to her?”

  She couldn’t help her smile. “I do.”

  He nodded, his smile broadening. “Then I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a nod and a wave as she started for the house. She heard him close her door, go around and climb behind the wheel. As he pulled away behind her, she hoped she wasn’t wrong about the man. His words had made her all warm inside. Not to mention what happened when she’d looked into those blue eyes.

  He was the kind of man a woman could fall hard for. Which made her all the more leery. There was a reason Constance never gave away her heart in the books. Her creator had given her heart away once, only to have it broken badly. To say they were both gun-shy was to put it mildly.

  She’d barely reached the porch when her sisters came rushing out, both talking at once.

  As Silas drove away, a sheriff’s patrol car pulled up out front. TJ and her sisters turned to see Sheriff McCall Crawford climb out.

  “Are you all right?” Annabelle whispered.

  “I’m fine. What is the sheriff doing here?” she whispered back.<
br />
  “Chloe called her.”

  Of course she did. TJ sighed under her breath. “Did you get a tree?”

  Annabelle smiled. “Of course. We’re putting it up later.”

  The three waited until Sheriff Crawford joined them before going inside. Chloe, who clearly had taken charge, ushered them all into the kitchen.

  “I see you made it home safe and sound,” the sheriff said to TJ.

  “I’m sorry my sister got you over here,” she said. “I’m fine.”

  “She was trapped in the woods in a blizzard with Silas Walker,” Chloe said, as if TJ had to be reminded. “I asked the sheriff here because I want to know more about this man who had my sister, especially since he’d been fired from the police force.”

  McCall smiled and declined the coffee Annabelle offered her. The two were on a first name basis after what Annabelle had found in the house last month.

  “I could use a cup,” TJ said as they all sat down.

  “Silas bought some land in the Little Rockies about six months ago,” the sheriff said once they were settled in. “I believe he built a cabin.” McCall looked to TJ, who nodded. “Yes, he was fired from the New York City police force as part of an internal sting operation.” Chloe looked at TJ as if to say “See?”

  “But Silas was innocent. He was working undercover on behalf of the department to root out the dirty cops.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” Chloe said.

  All TJ could think about was the man who’d served her homemade bread and stew he’d made himself. The man who wrote beautiful words, deep with meaning. A man with many talents.

  McCall continued. “He was offered his job back, but he declined because a cop who testifies against his own isn’t necessarily welcomed back with open arms. There was an attempt on his life. He was shot. He is now employed part-time by another former police officer who started his own private investigative business.”

  TJ realized that she hadn’t been the only one limping. But Silas had been trying hard not to show it.