An Uncommon Protector

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Velvet started forward.

  After watching him for a bit and realizing he had spoken the truth, that he could control a horse and buggy easily, she exhaled.

  He grinned. “Were you worried about my skills?”

  “A little,” she allowed.

  “Only a little?”

  “Maybe a bit more than that. I’m glad you didn’t lie to me. It’s easier to know the truth about things.”

  “I would have to agree with you about that. The truth always helps, I think.” After a minute or so, he added, “I’m grateful you came out today. If it weren’t for you, I’d be back behind bars or waiting for one of the men in the crowd to hire me on.”

  She shivered. “Most of the men who were gathering around you don’t have the best of reputations.”

  One of his brows lifted. “Pointing out the obvious, I don’t either.”

  Laurel knew she should agree, but something about this man seemed different. She didn’t think her intuition was that far off. “You seemed polite enough when you were on the prison workforce.”

  “Didn’t have much choice.”

  “You might not have had a choice, but I would venture to say you didn’t need much incentive to be respectful to me.”

  “No, miss, I did not,” he said with a low drawl. “But I’d be lying now if I didn’t point out that there wasn’t a man there who didn’t appreciate your offer of water.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was more than that. Prison—and war, for that matter—doesn’t give a man much opportunity to feel such kindness. It was a reminder that we are still men and worthy of consideration.”

  His talk embarrassed her, especially since she had a terrible suspicion that her offer of water had somehow resulted in the lashes he received across his back.

  “Sergeant?”

  “Yes?”

  She opened her mouth to ask about that whipping but chickened out. Instead, she asked a more obvious question. “How did you get your new clothes and boots? Is that customary?”

  For the first time since they’d started their conversation, Thomas looked ill at ease. “No. They were a gift.”

  “From Judge Orbison?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Though it wasn’t technically her business, she prodded. “Then from whom?”

  Still not looking her way, he said, “As I told you, I served in the Confederacy. I served under a captain and a major I thought the world of. I respected them. I also became friends with them and several others. We’re scattered around the state now, but somehow the captain heard I was about to be eligible for release. He arranged for these items to be available. Since I didn’t want to be around you looking like I did, I accepted his gift.”

  She had never heard of such a thing. “Those must be quite some friends.”

  The lines around his eyes relaxed. “They are.”

  “Why didn’t one of them simply come get you? They could have lied and said you would work for them.”

  “First of all, I still don’t know how the captain knew where I was. I didn’t want any of them to know I was in jail. I got in trouble because I was gambling in a high-stakes poker game I couldn’t afford. I’m not proud of that.” He shrugged. “Then, too, there’s the law. They couldn’t have gotten me out no matter how hard they tried. And last, I would never allow any of them to pay for my release.”

  She thought about that. Thought about how hard it must have been for him to wait and have faith that somehow, some way, he would be freed. Visions of him sitting in a dark cell, hurting and alone, struck her hard.

  “Sergeant, uh, how is your back?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “That scar on your neck—”

  “That happened a good long time ago. It doesn’t hurt.”

  She noticed he didn’t say his back didn’t hurt. “When we get to the ranch, I’ll tend to your back. I made some ointment that works wonders for burns and cuts. I’ll put some of that on it.”

  He stiffened. “That ain’t necessary.”

  Laurel blinked at his harsh tone. “You might not know this, but we had our fair share of soldiers come through during the war. Some were grievously injured, and I tended quite a few. I promise there is little I have not seen.”

  “No offense, but I’m not the kind of man who would want his lady boss to be fussing over a couple of bumps and bruises on his bare skin.”

  She knew the wounds on his back were far worse than mere bumps or bruises. But he was sitting so stoically, she also knew it would be a mistake to push. “If your pain gets worse, will you let me know?”

  “I’ll let you know,” he said shortly, but his voice was clipped. “You didn’t bring me on to tend over me, miss. I’m going to work for you.”

  She nodded. He had a point. She needed to remember that and put the ranch first. Keeping it going was what counted. That was what she needed to care about. Not her loneliness. Not the way this man looked like he needed a friend as much as she did. All that mattered was the land.

  Nothing else.

  When they arrived at the ranch, Jerome and Bess darted out the door as though they’d been watching for her with bated breath.

  Bess was dressed in a pale-pink dress and her hair was arranged in ringlets. She looked like she was about to go to a dance. Jerome was just as dressed up. Why they were outfitted the way they were, Laurel couldn’t imagine.

  “Laurel, it took you long enough,” Jerome called out. “Bess and I have been extremely ill at ease and inconvenienced. In fact—”

  Whatever he was about to add vanished as he suddenly realized she wasn’t alone.

  Bess placed a hand to her lips and coughed delicately. Laurel wasn’t sure if she was doing that because she was stunned or intrigued.

  Thomas stared at them curiously before pulling on Velvet’s reins and setting the brake in the buggy. Just as Laurel was about to dismount, he placed a hand on her arm. “Wait for me,” he said.

  She was surprised by his instruction—and rather amused by the way Bess’s eyes had widened. She waited.

  After Thomas walked around to her side, he held out a hand. Just as she was about to place her hand in his, he reached for her waist and swung her down from the seat.

  Unable to help herself, she set her hands on his shoulders and felt a small cluster of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “It was my pleasure.” His gaze was suspiciously warm.

  Embarrassed for imagining something that wasn’t there, she turned to Bess and Jerome, who were gaping at Mr. Baker and her as though they were part of a carnival show.

  Seeking to quiet her nerves, Laurel gestured to their outfits. “You two look fetching. Where are you off to?”

  Bess glared at the man beside Laurel. “We wanted to go into town. Now we’re late.”

  “For what? I’m not aware of any parties going on today.”

  Jerome glared as well. “I had no idea you were going to be so long.”

  “It couldn’t be helped.” They were intently staring at her new employee. Seeing that they were hardly listening, and assuming they were only going to town to spend the bit of money she could spare for them each week, she said, “Bess and Jerome, this is Sergeant Thomas Baker. I just hired him on to work here. Sergeant, these are my stepsiblings, Bess and Jerome Vance.”

  Jerome stepped in front of his sister as if he was guarding her. “Where did he come from?”

  Laurel was curious as to why he asked her. After all, she’d told Bess what she was going to do. Had she kept that information to herself? “Well, Sheriff Jackson sometimes allows men who have served time to be hired on.”

  Her stepbrother blinked. “Wait a minute. You were here yesterday, weren’t you? On the prison detail.”

  Before Laurel could reply, Mr. Baker stepped forward, almost mirroring Jerome’s stance. “I was. Miss Laurel has just hired me for one year.”

  Ignoring him,
Jerome turned to Laurel. “And they told you he would be safe? I’m sure they would say anything to get him off their hands.” He scanned her body as if she were a fallen woman. “Furthermore, I am shocked it seems you will do just about anything to ensure that you’ll fall into this man’s arms.”

  The sergeant stiffened. Thinking he was about to say something rash, Laurel stepped a little closer to his side. “I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine,” she declared. “We simply need to give it time.”

  Feeling panicked at their continuing stares, Laurel continued, “Listen, we need Sergeant Baker’s help. He’s strong, and smart too. He’s not only going to help with the work, but he’s going to help watch the squatters. Maybe he’ll even be able to help us save the ranch.”

  “Save the ranch? We need to be done with it.” Jerome frowned. “Laurel, you are overstepping yourself.”

  “You know I’m not.”

  “I just don’t know what to think about this,” Bess said. Her eyes looking like a wounded doe’s, she lowered her voice in a dramatic way. “We’ll be at his mercy.”

  Jerome nodded. “This is true. Why, this . . . this prisoner could attack Bess in her sleep.”

  She nodded. “I could be violated.”

  Laurel flushed in embarrassment. What must Mr. Baker think?

  “I will not be attacking anyone, miss,” Thomas murmured.

  “You might,” Bess said. “I’ve heard men can’t always help themselves.”

  “I will.”

  “Let’s believe him,” Laurel said quickly. “It’s the Christian thing to do.”

  “We cannot believe a thing he says. He’s going to say whatever he needs to so he can stay here,” Jerome sputtered. “While it may be true that you have nothing to worry about, Bess is another story. Everyone in the area knows how attractive Bess is.”

  Laurel felt like sinking into the dry Texas dirt right then and there.

  But after glancing her way, Mr. Baker asked, “Why does she have nothing to worry about?”

  “Because of her looks,” Bess blurted. “She’s . . . well, she’s fat.”

  Then, to Laurel’s dismay, the sergeant grinned. His smile lit up his face, and suddenly he didn’t look so innocent. “Miss Laurel is a great many things, but fat ain’t one of them. Truth is, I’ve yet to see a prettier female.”

  “Sergeant,” she hissed under her breath. “Your words are not helping.”

  “Beg your pardon, miss. Though many a time I’ve said too much at all the wrong times, I don’t believe this is one of them. I’m speaking the truth.”

  Bess gasped. Jerome glared.

  And Laurel? Why, she had no idea what to say.

  Her new worker seemed to have a true gift for stealing her breath and taking her by surprise.

  6

  AS THE SUN MARCHED HIGHER IN THE SUMMER SKY, TAYLOR Orr shifted positions from his spot under the rock overhang.

  Dang, but it was hot. He didn’t know how these Texans could take this summertime heat. He felt as if the sun were blazing a trail across his face and hands. He surely had the sunburn to prove it.

  Now, as he bided his time until dark, he fingered his viewfinder. It gave him a good sense of what was happening on the Tracey property.

  What he’d just witnessed was unusual and unwelcome.

  Soon after he watched Laurel hire on that prisoner, he’d hightailed it back to his hideout. This rock overhang was a mere half mile from an abandoned barn where he kept his horse.

  Now that he’d seen the man escort her onto the property, Taylor was coming to terms with the fact that the situation here had changed. No longer was Laurel Tracey at his mercy or living essentially alone on her property. She’d gone and hired herself a man who looked like he was neither averse to fighting nor averse to shooting anyone in his way.

  Taylor would bet good money that the man had served well during the war, too, and hadn’t forgotten much in the way of being brave and forthright. From the moment he had helped Laurel alight from her buggy, he’d been looking around the area as though he was used to ferreting out any number of threats.

  And when he wasn’t doing that, he was gazing at Laurel. Even through his telescope Taylor could see the man had an interest in her.

  If the look he’d seen the man give Laurel was any indication, he wasn’t planning to just work his year and then leave the area.

  No, Taylor had been in love once, and he remembered feeling that same sense of ownership that had shone in the convict’s eyes. There was something between him and Laurel Tracey. This man wasn’t going to give up her or her property without a fight.

  And that, unfortunately, was a stinkin’ shame. He was sick of being on this job. He’d been watching and waiting for weeks now. Waiting for his boss to say it was time to make a move. He was sick of sweating, and really sick of the fire ants that burned when they bit and the spiders that taunted him when they came out at night.

  He needed to get back to Chicago. Chicago was cooler and more crowded. He knew how things worked there and didn’t have to skulk around like a dang coyote.

  The sooner he got this job done, the sooner he could go back and claim the life he’d lost because of his debts. He could go back to courting Dara. If she’d still have him after everything he’d put her through.

  Well, she’d take him back if she never found out what he was doing here in the sticks outside of Fort Worth.

  Thinking of the way she would no doubt look at him if she knew, Taylor felt a rush of bile scorch the back of his throat. What he was doing was a sin. He’d never been an especially faithful man, but he didn’t think a man had to be God-fearing to be ashamed of the things he had done.

  Looking at the kerosene he’d given the calf, Taylor shuddered. After the war, he’d never imagined he’d have a weak stomach for much. Killing good and healthy livestock didn’t sit well with him.

  It made him feel sick inside.

  Poisoning cattle was nothing to be proud of. But it had been the only method he could think of that would do the trick. It was his job to do everything he possibly could to encourage Laurel Tracey to sell her land. The man who paid him to do anything and everything to get her to move hadn’t been joking. Taylor knew, because he’d seen firsthand how the man dealt with anyone who got in his way.

  If Taylor failed, no apology would be necessary. Instead, he’d pay for his mistakes with either a bullet in his head or a noose around his neck.

  In his more desperate moments, he’d actually debated which way would be a better, less painful death.

  But what was done was done.

  As the first cool breeze of the day passed over him, Taylor slapped his hand on his thigh. His boss somehow knew Laurel Tracey planned to raise up her herd, make her ranch profitable. He had his own reasons for fighting that. But Taylor had no good reason to be even thinking about this woman or the people in her life in such a personal way. That would only create sleepless nights, and he already had those in spades. Besides, his boss didn’t pay good money for bleeding hearts.

  Getting to his feet, Taylor stepped out into the broad sunlight again.

  Standing up straight and tall, he raised his face to the burning rays. As he felt them heat his skin, he figured remembering his boss’s violent ways was all the encouragement he needed to continue to do what he had to do.

  After he hid the kerosene container, he was going to get his horse and go back into town. He would continue to play his role—the not-too-smart greenhorn carpetbagger traveling through Sweetwater—for a couple more days. He’d play poker poorly and not hold his liquor well.

  He’d also report to his boss and share what he’d done. And what he was going to do next.

  God willing, then he’d hear Miss Tracey was getting desperate. He’d get paid and could go back to Chicago. He didn’t need to be in Sweetwater and watch her sell her land to the man who was going to use her misfortune for his gain.

  No, he would simply be back in Chicago and Dara’s good
graces. He could use his ill-gotten money toward paying off the ruthless men he’d borrowed from. And when those debts were resolved, he could return to Dara and she’d be proud of him.

  Then he would do his best to be the man she believed him to be. He just hoped he remembered how to be that man. It had been a long time since he’d had much of an occasion to try to make himself into someone worthy.

  Scurrying back to the horse, he pretended to think such a thing was even possible.

  Pretended to believe a man really could sell his soul to the devil in exchange for mending a few broken dreams.

  Pretended to imagine that the man who’d hired him was going to make good on his promises and pay him.

  Pretended that he even had a future.

  For a moment, a vision flashed in his head. He was sitting on a sofa, his feet propped up on a table, with a dog at his feet. Dara was sitting beside him, chattering about whatever women chattered on about. And his eyes were at half-mast as he pretended to listen.

  It was a good dream. Real nice. He’d gotten really good at pretending too. Otherwise, the reality of his life was too harsh to contemplate.

  Because no man lived long doing the things he’d done.

  It simply wasn’t possible.

  7

  STANDING THERE IN THE HOT SUN NEXT TO A HORSE AND buggy, facing Laurel Tracey’s obnoxious stepsiblings, Thomas Baker realized he was a fool.

  He was a headstrong idiot who still hadn’t learned to keep his mouth shut. Not even when he should be doing nothing but giving thanks that he was standing in the hot sun instead of wasting away in a dark prison cell. One would think his time spent at Johnson’s Island would have taught him that at the very least.

  Truly, if his captain were standing in the vicinity, he would backhand him upside the head.

  It would be no less than he deserved too. Men didn’t go around saying such things to gently bred women. They most certainly did not speak of the female form and attributes in mixed company. He hadn’t even needed the officers at the camp to teach him that lesson.