The Lawman Said I Do

by Ana Leigh

  Why couldn’t people understand that just because she’d rather wear pants instead of fancy gowns, and herd cattle instead of bake a cake, she wasn’t less a woman than that worthless Rose Lee Beckenridge, whom the men so admired?

  It didn’t mean she didn’t want to marry and have children with the man she loved. She adored children and knew in her heart she would make a wonderful mother.

  But what kind of wife would she make?

  She hadn’t been much older than Petey when her mother had died. Maybe if her mother had lived longer, she would better understand the role a woman played in a man’s life. Yet Cathy had grown up in the same situation, and it hadn’t affected her. Cathy was perfect in all ways—that’s why it was so easy to love her. Many men had proposed marriage to her sister, and Cassie had no idea why her twin had always turned those offers down.

  Cassie gave a deep sigh. No, the problem had to be her. But she’d rather die a spinster than throw herself at men like Miss Rose Lee Beckenridge.

  She glanced heavenward. Overhead the leafy green spires of the trees intermingled with the blue sky and the white, drifting clouds. Awed by God’s majesty, Cassie realized her woes seemed insignificant. Relaxing, she closed her eyes and let her senses dwell on the sounds around her.

  The soft plod of approaching hooves didn’t alarm her; she didn’t even open her eyes. She knew who it would be. Had known he would come. Perhaps that’s why she, too, had come here.

  “Cassie, what are you doing out here alone?” Colt asked.

  Cassie opened her eyes. He looked handsome and virile looming above her on Bullet.

  “I enjoy being alone. I’m surprised to see you. How did you ever pry Miss Sugarplum’s fingers off your arm?”

  Colt threw back his head in laughter and dismounted. She couldn’t help but admire the smooth motion. He was a superb horseman, born to the saddle. She had observed that the few times she had seen him ride.

  “Do I detect a note of jealousy, Miss Braden?”

  Cassie snorted. “Now why would I be jealous, Deputy Fraser?”

  “Because you were faced with a woman who’s not ashamed to expose her sensuality.”

  “That’s not the only thing she exposed. She made quite a point of flaunting what she exposed.”

  “Perhaps so, but unlike you at least she doesn’t try to deny it.”

  Cassie jumped to her feet. “Are we back to that again? Don’t you dare criticize me by comparing me to that insensitive, heartless woman who—”

  “Cassie, you’re getting carried away now. And it’s not becoming to you.”

  “Are you trying to deny what she is?”

  He expressed his impatience in an audible sigh. “I’m not denying anything. I don’t give a damn about her morals. Frankly, I think the woman’s an incredible bore, and at this moment I find you to be the same way. So get over this childish tantrum and we’ll change the subject.”

  “Why is it, Colt, that every time I don’t agree with you, I’m being childish? I’ll be truthful with you. Since most of the war was fought in the South, whenever I thought about the hardships the women and children were going through, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for them. But now, after listening to poor Miss Rose Lee Beckenridge, I have to say it was wasted sympathy.”

  She might just as well have fired another volley to set off the war again.

  “Do you actually believe the Rose Lees are examples of all Southern women? Are you suggesting her type can’t be found elsewhere? Granted, we Southerners may have a different culture. But don’t doubt for a moment, Miss Braden, that throughout this country’s history there has always been a breed of women, be it with rifle or plow in hand, calluses or lacy gloves over iron fists, who have stood side by side with the men they love. And those women’s fortitude, that inner strength and courage to face any adversity, is what gave the men who loved them greater strength.

  “So I’ll tell you about the real women of the South—the thousands like my mother, my sister, and my brother’s wife. Many of them saw their homes destroyed—all of them lost loved ones. But they didn’t run off to a safe harbor or remain unscathed, like many of the women in the rest of this country. Our women buried their dead, went to bed hungry at night so their children wouldn’t have to, and prayed to the Almighty that the war would end.

  “They were the unsung heroes of the late war. God bless each and every one of them. And instead of pinning medals on the chests of the men, they should have been pinned on the women of the South!”

  He spun on his heel and strode to his horse.

  Chapter 19

  Cassie stood, stunned. She had hit a raw nerve, and he’d revealed the emotions he kept so well in check under that smooth Southern veneer. To someone like herself at the mercy of her own emotions, it was a relief to see it happen. He appeared less calculating and more human to her than ever before.

  He was magnificent!

  His outburst proved that he was a big sham. All this strutting around pretending he wasn’t involved, with “no dog in the hunt,” but he wasn’t fooling her anymore. He was just as emotional as she, and from now on they were on even ground—no more mouse to his cat.

  Cassie climbed on Midnight and rode after Colt. She owed him an apology for what she had said—and the thought of apologizing to someone she knew was as tenderhearted as herself made it so much easier.

  She found him walking, leading Bullet by the reins. The horse was limping.

  “What happened?” she asked, dismounting.

  “He threw a shoe.”

  “He can’t hobble all the way back to town. Let’s get him over to the barn and I’ll put a new shoe on him.”

  Colt nodded, and she continued to walk alongside him. “I’m sorry, Colt. I have no right to pass judgment on women like your family members because of a woman like Miss Beckenridge.”

  “You’ve got that right, lady.” His grim expression never altered.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?” he snapped.

  “Do you accept my apology?”

  “You never seem to learn, Cassie. You always run off half-cocked without any thought as to the danger, or what you’re going to do or say.”

  Who did he think he was? She’d had the decency to apologize, but he wasn’t gracious enough to accept it. How could she ever have thought he was a sensitive person?

  “The truth hurt, Miss Braden?”

  She stopped abruptly. “Truth! I’ll give you some truth, Colt Fraser. You’re the smuggest, most arrogant man I’ve ever met. It’s a miracle you can find a hat to fit over that swelled head of yours. You and Miss Sugarplum make a perfect couple. And as far as I’m concerned, you can go straight to hell and try to convince Satan what a nice guy you are.” She snatched Bullet’s reins out of his hand. “I can take care of our horse without your help.”

  She took about two steps before he caught up with her. “Am I supposed to walk back to town?”

  “Try flying back on that inflated ego of yours.”

  Once again she didn’t get more than two steps before he grasped her by the arm and spun her around to face him.

  “You are one bad-tempered lady,” he said, more astounded than angry. “I think you could use some cooling off.”

  “Put me down,” she cried when he picked her up and carried her to the nearby pond.

  “That’s just what I have in mind,” he said as he tossed her into the water, then waded in ankle-deep and stood over her with his hands on his hips. “You’ve had that coming for a long time, Miss Braden.”

  When he turned his back on her, Cassie leaped at him and shoved him off balance. Colt landed on his backside with a gigantic splash.

  Water dripping down her face from her sodden hair, Cassie now stood over him.

  “Since you’ve come this far, maybe you should attempt swimming back to town, Deputy.”

  Her victory was short-lived. His hand grasped her booted ankle and pulled her down. She surfaced and kicked water at him
. He splashed her back, and suddenly they were laughing as the water fight continued until, wringing wet, they recovered their sodden hats and sought firm ground.

  “I’m afraid you can add stupid to those descriptions of me,” Colt said as he removed his gunbelt and slung it over the saddle. Then he pulled off his boots and shook the water out of them.

  “Impetuous of you, wasn’t it?” She grinned.

  “To say the least. Seemed like a good idea at the time, though.”

  Cassie shook out her hat and plopped it over her head.

  “Now you know how the other half lives, Deputy Imperium.”

  After they got as much water as they could from their clothing and hats, they took the reins of their horses and moved on, trailing water behind them. By the time they reached the barn, their clothes had ceased dripping but were still wet.

  “I’ll unsaddle the horses,” Colt said as Cassie headed for the house.

  “And I’ll check out whatever clothes Jeff and Dad have left here. I’m sure we can piece together something for you to put on while your clothes dry.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble, Cassie. I went through four years of war and had the clothes dry on my back many a time.”

  “There’s no reason why they have to now.” She gave him a glance over her shoulder, her eyes alight with devilment. “Even if it’s your fault they got wet in the first place.”

  As she continued to the house, Colt’s gaze shifted to one of his fondest diversions lately: the jeans, now wet, that clung to her trim little ass and hips even tighter.

  With a deep sigh, he took the horses’ reins and led them to the barn. “You know, fellas, a sight like that sure makes a man glad he’s alive.”

  After stabling the horses, Colt hung his gunbelt over a hook in the barn, then removed his shirt and strung it over a nearby shrub of chaparral to dry. He sat down and pulled off his boots and wet stockings. There was nothing more uncomfortable than wet socks, and they could rub a blister quicker than a size nine boot on a size eleven foot.

  Colt began to whistle as he returned to the barn. He picked out a couple of horseshoes that hung on the wall, then he collected a hammer, rasp, tongs, nails, and a bellows, and carried them over to a small forge in the corner.

  By the time Cassie joined him, Colt was fanning the flames with the bellows to intensify the fire in the forge. Her heart lurched at the sight of his strong, bronzed body, and her own body responded with a raw lust that sent a heated wave of arousal throughout her.

  Barefoot and clad only in wet trousers that hugged his slim hips and long legs, Colt was covered with perspiration that glistened on his arms and the muscular brawn of his chest.

  Mesmerized, she watched the ripple of muscle across his wide shoulders and the bulge of his bicep as he pounded the white hot horseshoe, shaping it to fit Bullet’s hoof.

  He glanced up at her. His gaze sought her face, then the length of her in a slow, sensual sweep that fueled the fire already ignited within her. An invisible web of desire spun between them, but who was the spider and who was the fly?

  His grin broke her reflection. “I’ll soon be through here.”

  Still shaken by her carnal thoughts, Cassie stepped closer. “I didn’t have much luck finding a pair of trousers that will fit you, but I think this shirt of Dad’s and these socks should do.”

  Had her voice always sounded so unsteady? Had her hand always shaken? Her body always trembled? No one had ever caused this feeling within her. She had to get a grip on herself, or her battle would be lost and his won.

  “I don’t need a shirt, Cassie—mine is about dry. I’ll take the stockings, though.”

  He plopped the shoe into a pail of water, resulting in a loud sizzling and sputtering that vaporized into a puff of steam. Wiping off his brow with his forearm, he said, “I’ll be done soon. I may not know how to herd cattle, but I’ve shod more than my share of horses.”

  “Then I’ll go back into the house and drudge up something for us to eat.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Colt paused to watch Cassie return to the house. She had brushed out her hair to dry, and it lay across her shoulders like an auburn-colored mantle. She had shed the delectable wet pants and changed into a skirt and blouse, but he liked this new look, too. She sure was a cutie, with her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she walked. Any way she packaged herself, Cassie Braden was one good-looking female—and she stoked a fire in him hotter than the one in the forge.

  And tougher than the nails he was about to use to pound on the horseshoe, he reflected, turning back to his task.

  He lifted Bullet’s leg and gave the hoof a final scraping, then nailed the shoe to its rim. A few strokes with the rasp to smooth the edges and the shoe was replaced.

  “Good boy,” he said with several pats to the horse’s flank, then he led him back to a stall.

  He tossed some hay in the stalls and filled the troughs, then doused the fire thoroughly, returned the tools to where he had found them, and closed the stable doors.

  The sun had set by the time he grabbed his gunbelt and clothing and headed for the house.

  “Mmmm, what smells so good?” he asked when he entered.

  “I don’t have much to offer you other than trout and fried potatoes.”

  “Trout?”

  “Yes, there’s a trout stream at the bottom of the hill behind the house. This time of year the fish are practically jumping out of the water, so it was easy to catch a couple.”

  “So did you use your hands or a pole?”

  The grin on his face was too appealing. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” she replied. “I heated a kettle of hot water for you to clean up before we eat.”

  “Thanks.”

  Colt washed his face and hands, slicked his hair back with water, and put on his shirt and the stockings.

  “Hope you won’t be offended if I come to the dinner table without boots.”

  With a theatrical fluttering of her hand to her chest, she said, “But ah do declare, Deputy Fraser, I’ve never been so insulted. Why, my Daddy would never tolerate such outlandish behavior.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Are we going to fight the Civil War again?”

  “Not on an empty stomach. Sit down and eat before the food gets cold.”

  There was a gingham tablecloth, and the candle surrounded by white yucca blossoms in the center of the table cast a warm glow.

  “I’ve never tried to pass myself off as a cook,” Cassie warned when Colt pulled out her chair for her.

  Remembering the dessert competition, Colt prepared himself for the worst. After a few bites, he was pleasantly surprised to find the truth was just the opposite.

  “Cassie, this is very good.”

  “Well, anyone can fry fish and potatoes,” she said, but she couldn’t help smiling with pleasure at his words of praise.

  When they finished eating, Colt lit a fire to get the night chill out of the living room while Cassie cleaned up the dinner dishes. Then they sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace to relax with their coffee cups.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” Cassie said. “It’s getting pretty late and you should think about getting back to town.”

  Looking at her lying there with the fire’s glow turning her auburn hair to copper, he felt anything but comfortable. Rising passion had begun to cloud his brain. Getting back to town was the farthest thing from his mind.

  “I’ve decided to stay here tonight,” Cassie continued. “Will you tell my family so they won’t worry?”

  “How can they not worry about you being out here alone?”

  Her tempting lips curved into a smile. “Colt, if you intend to live in the West, you’ve got to learn that the women aren’t clinging vines. We’re quite capable of taking care of ourselves.”

  “Sounds like we’re getting back to our earlier South versus West argument.”

  “I’m referring to physical strength, not an inner one. Out here we have to lea
rn pretty early how to do a man’s job. As feminine as Cathy is, she’s as good a rancher as anyone.”

  “I’m sure she is.”

  He saw her eyes deepen in reflection. “You know, Colt, Cathy would be the perfect woman for you. She has the qualities to fit into your world, as well as mine.”

  “My world, your world. Do you really feel they’re so different, Cass?”

  “Of course they are. So why pursue me instead of Cathy?”

  “It’s a male thing. When I look at Cathy I immediately envision marriage, gingham curtains on the windows, and loading up the children to take them to church.”

  “And when you look at me?” Cassie wanted to bite her tongue the moment she said it. Did she really want to know?

  “Honey, I can’t help envisioning the delights of that hayloft.”

  A blush heightened the color of her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes. “Do I appear that cheap to you?”

  He reached over and grasped her hand. “On the contrary, Cass. You have a do-not-touch air about you that’s enough to scare off braver men than I. But from the moment you landed on my lap in that stagecoach, and I looked into those blue eyes of yours, honey, you lit a fire in me that I can’t put out—and Lord knows I’ve tried to. But as much as I want you, I can’t fight the ghost of Ted McBride.”

  She looked him straight in the eyes. “And if there wasn’t a Ted McBride?”

  His dark eyes immediately deepened with a devilish gleam, and his mouth widened in a grin. “We’d still be in that hayloft.”

  The corners of her lips tucked into a smile. Sighing deeply, she stretched out on her side and pillowed her cheek on her hands. She couldn’t condemn him for his honesty. It just made her realize how much she wished he would remain.

  “I don’t know if that was a compliment or an insult, Colt, but I’d like to think it was a compliment. And whether or not you intended it to be, I think it was quite romantic.”

  The warmth of his chuckle rippled her spine. With every moment they spent together, her memory of Ted faded more and more.

  “I don’t think you have any idea what a desirable woman you are, Cass.”