The Lawman Said I Do

by Ana Leigh

  That was the reason he had accepted the job. Without the sheriff to lean on, this would be the true test of whether or not he had the right stuff to stick it out.

  “Looks like I’ll be around for a while. I can’t very well leave with the sheriff flat on his back.”

  “Why not?” Bowie asked.

  “Yeah, why not?” Petey echoed.

  “It would be running out on a responsibility.”

  “Town’s not your responsibility,” Sam said.

  “Well then, let’s just call it conscience, Belle. You kids do me a favor and stay out of trouble today.”

  “Sam, what does conscience mean?” Bowie asked when Colt left and headed for the Braden house.

  “Ain’t sure. Let’s go to the schoolroom and look it up in the dictionary.”

  “How can we look it up if we don’t know how to spell it?” Bowie asked.

  Sam frowned with annoyance. “I’ll figure out something.”

  The three children raced down the street. Cassie was at her desk and glanced up when they entered.

  “Good morning, darlings. School doesn’t begin for another two hours.”

  “We know that, Cassie,” Sam said. “We came to look up a word in the dictionary.”

  “That’s wonderful that you’re eager to improve your minds. No wonder this little guy’s so smart.” She tousled Petey’s hair and he giggled in response.

  Always the pessimist, Bowie said, “Yeah, but how can we look up a word ’til we know how to spell it?”

  Cassie couldn’t help smiling. “That can be a problem. Maybe I can help. What’s the word?”

  “Conscience,” Sam replied.

  That took her by surprise, since she’d been struggling with her own conscience over her feelings for Colt.

  “Conscience? My goodness, what brought that on?”

  “What does it mean?” Sam asked.

  “Well, conscience is the moral goodness of one’s character.” At the sight of their perplexed looks she added, “You could say that a conscience is what gives a person a feeling of obligation to do what is fair or right.”

  Sam frowned in deep reflection. “Do you think Colt Fraser has a conscience?”

  “Why do you ask, Sam?”

  “Colt told us his conscience would bother him if he left while the sheriff was flat on his back.”

  “But it ain’t his fault the sheriff is wounded,” Bowie said. “Colt only promised to be a deputy for a week.”

  “Yes, he did. But as a man of conscience, he feels he would be deserting the town when it needed him the most.”

  Petey grinned up at her. “Hooray! I’m glad he’s a man of consheks.”

  The boy’s grin was too adorable to resist. She pulled him into her arms and hugged him. Leaning her cheek against his wheat-colored hair, Cassie murmured, “We all are, sweetheart. We all are.”

  She had to admit that Colt was a good example for the children to look up to. That was why she struggled so much with her confusing thoughts of him. Integrity was as intrinsic to his nature as his warm chuckle or sense of humor—yet even though he knew she was engaged, Colt wouldn’t hesitate to satisfy his sexual desires if she allowed him to do so. The man was an enigma!

  As soon as the children departed, Cassie opened the book she’d been reading—or trying to read. Since Colt Fraser had come to town, it was hard to concentrate on anything except him and her sinful lusting for him.

  After another five minutes she succeeded in reading only a few more paragraphs and couldn’t remember what she had read on the previous page. She slammed the book down. How long was she going to moon over Colt Fraser like a lovesick schoolgirl?

  Her trouble was that she’d been too idle. She needed to do something physical to take her mind off her troubles—which meant Colt. If only he’d left town this morning as he’d planned, she would have forgotten him in a couple of weeks.

  She shook her head in derision. Do you really believe that, Cassie Braden?

  She walked over and gazed out the window. Maybe when her dad was well again, she’d talk Cathy into taking the stage to Santa Fe and doing some shopping. Shopping! What was she thinking? She hated to shop!

  There was plenty to do on the ranch; that’s what she should be doing instead of lolling around town. The trouble with that idea was her bedridden father. She should remain in town to help out at home.

  Deciding to go back to the house, she paused in the doorway, when she saw Colt walking up the street. He turned into her house. He always walked tall, darn the man! As annoying as he was, he was about the handsomest man she’d ever seen.

  So what now, Cassie? With Colt there, the house is the last place you’d go.

  With a desolate sigh, she went out to the well and drew a bucket of water. She’d wash the schoolroom window. Idle hands make idle thoughts—or something like that.

  “It’s good to see you’re feeling well enough to sit up in bed, Jethro,” Colt said when Cathy left the room and returned to the kitchen.

  “I’m beholden to you for stayin’ until I’m well enough to get on my feet,” Jethro said.

  “Another week more or less doesn’t make much difference to me. The important thing is that you take it easy and don’t worry. I’m not about to walk out on you, Jethro.”

  “Hell, I figured as much,” the sheriff said. “That backbone of yours is used for more than holdin’ your head up.” He cast a disparaging look at Jeff, who sat slouched in a chair in the corner.

  “Is there anything special that has to be done right now?” Colt asked.

  “Naw,” Jethro said. “Just keep your eyes open, son. I figure Pike’s gonna show up again. He said he’s got a score to settle with you for killin’ his brother, and twice now he’s tried to hold up the stage and our bank. He ain’t leavin’ this territory ’til he gets what he wants.”

  “Or dies trying,” Colt said as he rose to his feet. “Well, I’ll get to my duties and you get to resting.” On the way out, Colt motioned to Jeff to follow him.

  “What do you want?” Jeff asked when they were outside. His eyes flashed with belligerence.

  So the boy’s hostility had returned. With the events of the past few days Colt had hoped Jeff had put aside his bad feelings toward him.

  “Let’s saddle up a couple of horses. We’re going for a ride.”

  “It’s a waste of time to try and pick up that trail again.”

  “We’re riding out to the Lazy B.”

  “What for?”

  “We’ve got some business to take care of.”

  “If it’s about the ranch, you best talk to Cassie. She’s the rancher in the family.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Colt said.

  The three sprouts were outside the livery when the men led the horses out and mounted up.

  “Where are you two going?” Sam asked.

  “None of your business, squirt,” Jeff snapped.

  “You going away and leaving us unprotected?”

  “We won’t be gone much more than an hour. Take care of the town until we get back, Belle.”

  “What if them outlaws come back?”

  “They’ll know better than to tangle with you three again.”

  The two men galloped away, leaving the children with puzzled looks on their faces.

  “What in hell are we going out to the ranch for?” Jeff demanded.

  Colt grinned secretly. “There’s a nice big barn there.”

  “Damn you, Colt, you’re worse than my dad. Quit treating me like a kid.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. You once told me you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

  “You fixing on shooting up the side of the barn?”

  “Could be.” Colt goaded his horse and galloped ahead.

  Jeff took off his hat and scratched his head. Holy Jumping Jerusalem! Cassie would fill them both full of lead if they put one hole in the side of the barn. He grinned, then whipped the reins of his horse and followed.
r />   With Cassie in town, the Lazy B was deserted, and Jeff watched with curiosity as Colt studied the trees until he found one to his satisfaction.

  “All right, that one’s perfect,” he said, pointing to a dying oak with leafless limbs. He paced off a distance away from it and drew a line in the dirt. “This is where you’ll begin.”

  “Begin what?” Jeff asked.

  “Target practice.”

  “This is a waste of time. Don’t you think I’ve tried doing that?” Jeff said. “I’ve told you, I can’t hit what I aim for.”

  “Then it’s time you learn. Now get on over here and step up to this line.”

  Grumbling about the waste of time, Jeff did what Colt ordered. “This isn’t even fifty feet away from the target.”

  “And in most cases when you have to use a gun, you’re closer than fifty feet, whether it’s a bank robbery or shooting a snake. Just be sure that if you point a gun at someone, you’re prepared to fire it. It’s a mistake to think that person won’t try to kill you. It takes three elements to be a successful shot: a good eye, a steady hand, and a decent weapon. Now let’s see what you can do. Hit the trunk of that dead oak.”

  Jeff drew the gun on his hip and fired. The shot whizzed past the oak. He turned to Colt in disgust. “What did I tell you?”

  “First off, you’re not ready yet to draw and fire. Draw and aim, then fire.”

  “That’s what I did.”

  “No, you didn’t. If you’re going to attempt to draw and shoot, you have to cock the gun and adjust for the motion. For now, don’t try to do both. Forget a fast draw, Cock the hammer and take careful aim at the tree. Then hold your arm steady. Don’t jerk the trigger, just gently squeeze it.”

  Jeff tried three more shots and still missed the tree.

  “Let’s see that gun.” Colt aimed carefully at the tree and fired. The shot missed its mark.

  “Is this the only gun you’ve ever had?” Colt asked when his next shot hit the target.

  “Yes,” Jeff replied. “Dad wouldn’t let me pack a gun until last year.”

  “I can tell you some of the problem. It shoots wide to the right. You need to make a slight adjustment when you shoot. Aim about two inches to the left of your target.”

  Jeff reloaded the pistol and fired off several more shots.

  “You’re jerking your hand. Hold that hand steady.”

  After thirty more minutes, an ecstatic Jeff succeeded in hitting the mark more times than missing it.

  A short time later, Colt called a halt to the session. “We’ll practice again tomorrow morning.”

  Colt glanced at the young man as they rode back into town. Jeff sat slumped in the saddle, and his previous jubilation had dissolved into silence.

  “Something bothering you, Jeff?”

  “Considering the bad blood between us since you came to town, I know I ain’t got no right to ask a favor of you.”

  “What’s chewing at your craw?”

  “It’s about today. I’m asking you not to tell anyone about…well, that you’re teaching me how to shoot.”

  “I had no intention of telling anyone, Jeff.”

  Jeff grinned. It was Cassie’s grin, and once again Colt was reminded of how much more Cassie resembled Jeff than her twin sister.

  “You’ve got my word on it, pal. Now I want your word that you’ll cut down on your drinking. Guns and alcohol are like oil and water—they don’t mix.”

  “It’s a deal,” Jeff said.

  “Are you particularly fond of that gun of yours, Jeff?”

  “How could I be? It’s the one Pike used to shoot my father.”

  “Then get yourself a new one, and test its accuracy before buying it.”

  When Colt appeared at the Braden door that evening to report the day’s activities to Jethro, Cathy insisted he join them for dinner. Jeff was in good humor, Cathy was her usual pleasant self, but Cassie barely spoke. She wasn’t hostile toward him, but rather seemed uncomfortable around him.

  This disturbed Colt. She was clearly unhappy beyond her concern for her father. As soon as they finished dinner, Colt visited with Jethro, while the two women cleaned up the kitchen. By the time Colt left Jethro’s room, Cassie had retired to her own for the night.

  For the next several days, Colt saw little of Cassie. It was clear she was avoiding him so he respected her feelings and didn’t seek her out. Yet in knowing that he was remaining in Arena Roja longer, his desire to make love to her was monopolizing his every thought.

  He would have to convince her that their mutual desire for each other would only get greater. But how? Cassie Braden was a strong-willed and determined woman. If she’d only apply that will toward making love, instead of not making love, there’d be no—

  “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “What if she became the aggressor?”

  He’d been trying to break down her resistance, but what if he used a different approach? An indifferent one? Would she go for the bait? He was desperate enough to try. The only question was, did he have enough self-control to carry it out?

  The next morning, Colt and Jeff repeated what had become their daily routine. They rode out of town early in the morning, practiced for an hour, then returned. Jeff’s improvement was remarkable. He was hitting a chosen target now at a distance of a hundred feet. The boy listened carefully and followed advice. Why hadn’t Jethro taken more time and patience to instruct him?

  A couple more shooting lessons, Colt figured, and he’d be able to tackle Jeff’s problem with handling a horse.

  Every day, the sprouts checked out their departure each morning and their return later. Whether or not they reported daily to Cassie, Colt didn’t know.

  And he wasn’t about to ask.

  Bowie glanced at Sam, as they sat on the steps of the jail. “Boy, this taking care of the town is sure boring,” he complained.

  “Yeah, boring,” Petey agreed.

  “What are you thinking about, Sam?” Bowie asked.

  “The deputy. I’m thinking we ought to do something nice for him, ’cause he’s a man of conscience and is doing something nice for the town.”

  “Ain’t we doing something nice by watching the town for him these past days?”

  “That ain’t hard; nothing’s happening.”

  “Well, let’s give him a gift,” Bowie suggested.

  “The last time we did that, he didn’t like it and got mad at us.”

  “He liked us giving him a gift; he just didn’t like what we gave him,” Bowie reasoned.

  “Slinky,” Petey said.

  “How’d I know he didn’t like snakes,” Sam grumbled.

  Bowie thought a moment, then his face lit up with a smile. “Let’s buy him something nice.”

  “We ain’t got no money, Bowie.” Sam got up and began to pace back and forth.

  After another long moment of concentration, Bowie jumped up next to her. “I know. Why don’t we just stay out of trouble, like he asked us to?”

  “Bowie, that don’t make sense,” Sam said. “We don’t cause no trouble.”

  The two sat down again. “We gotta think of something nice to do for him,” Sam said.

  “Yeah, something nice,” Petey agreed.

  Chapter 15

  “Any trouble while we were gone?” Colt asked the sprouts, dismounting when he and Jeff returned.

  “No,” Sam said.

  “Any strangers ride in?”

  Sam eyed him with a disgusted glare. “No. And if you expect us to keep doing your job, you can start paying us.”

  “And in money, not lollipops,” Bowie said.

  “I like lollipops,” Petey spoke up.

  “If you kids muck out the stalls I’ll give you a quarter,” Jeff said.

  Arms akimbo, Sam declared, “Sure, and while we do all the dirty and stinky work, I suppose you’re gonna head over to the Alhambra and start drinking and cottoning up to that Lucy Long-Lashes.” She batted her eyelashes in imitation.

  �
��Maybe so or maybe not. But since you’re not my wife, Freckle Face, it’s not your problem.”

  Sam’s freckles melded into a solid red blush. “Your wife! When I get old enough to marry, it sure won’t be to a toad-ugly, no-account like you, Jeff Braden.”

  Bowie clutched at his sides laughing. “Sam marry you!”

  “Yeah, fat chance,” Petey said and joined in his brother’s laughter.

  Colt couldn’t help smiling.

  “And another thing, Jeff Braden,” Sam declared. “Your shiftless friend, Bob Callum, has been drinking all morning. You best go over and get him out of the Alhambra.”

  The arrival of the stage interrupted their conversation.

  “What Bob Callum does is no concern of yours, Miss Nosey Rosey,” Jeff said as he and Colt started to walk up to the stage office.

  The driver jumped down from the box and opened the door of the stage. “Thirty minutes rest, folks.”

  At that moment, Bob Callum staggered out of the Alhambra. Seeing a friend who had been riding shotgun, Callum let out a welcoming yell and fired two shots in the air.

  The startled team bolted, pulling the driverless stagecoach behind them with its door flapping and passengers crying for help. People scurried in all directions to get out of its path. Colt leaped on the back of Bullet and rode after it. As he drew even with it he jumped from his horse onto one of the lead horses, and managed to grab the reins and bring the runaways to a halt. The driver ran up to him as Colt climbed off the horse.

  The spectators applauded and cheered.

  As soon as the commotion died down, Colt headed for the jailhouse. The sprouts followed behind.

  He drew back in surprise after he entered. “What the…” The floor was freshly scrubbed, Jethro’s brass spittoon next to the desk was shiny bright, and the window glistened.

  He checked out the cells and saw that they’d been swept clean and scrubbed, as well.

  The sprouts were huddled together, giggling with pleasure.

  “Do you like it?” Sam asked.

  “It’s great. Who cleaned it up, Cathy or Cassie?”

  “We did,” Sam said.

  “I shined up the spis’toon,” Petey said proudly.