In the Sheriff's Protection

by Lauri Robinson

  Twisting, she watched as Billy dived to the ground and a toad hopped away, barely missing being captured. “Here we only have one outlaw to worry about. Out there, in the rest of the world, there are hundreds.”

  With a gentle touch, Tom laid a hand on her cheek, forcing her to turn back to him. “I’ll find him. Arrest him.”

  Her heart was wrenching so hard her entire chest burned. “Oh, Tom, if anyone can, I believe it could be you. Which is one more reason why Billy and I can’t go anywhere with you. I don’t even want Hugh to know you were here.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does to those who know how outlaws think. When someone rats on an outlaw, all the other outlaws hear about it, whether they ran together or not, and if there’s any chance that person knows anything about them, they’ll be on the lookout for that person.”

  That was a simplistic way of explaining an integral lifestyle that she’d come to understand thoroughly over the years. One there was no escape from.

  Tom’s gaze was thoughtful as he asked, “Do you have any idea where he’s at?”

  She shook her head.

  “Would you tell me if you did?”

  Once again, though it pained her, she shook her head.

  Chapter Five

  Frustration like he’d never known burned inside him, but Tom couldn’t determine if it was because of her commitment to Hugh Wilson, or his desire to pull her into his arms and hold her there until she realized how big he was. How strong and steadfast. How the reputation that preceded him, the one he lived up to every day, said he always got his man. He would this time, too, and he would protect her.

  He tried to keep his emotions in check, but the fear and sorrow that had surfaced in her eyes as she talked was eating away at him.

  “Hugh didn’t just decide to become an outlaw one day.” Her voice was soft and low and cracked as she spoke. “He was born and bred that way, and his circle of connections spreads far and wide.”

  Tom wanted to tell her that his years of being a lawman had already taught him all that she’d said, and more, but instincts said it wouldn’t do any good. Hugh had a hold over her, and it infuriated him to recognize that hold was Billy. She hadn’t said it, but Hugh was holding her son over her head to the point she’d give up any opportunity for a normal life for her son. Instincts also told him she’d fight to the death for her son, too. Most mothers would, but she was beyond most mothers. Beyond most women.

  As thoughts twisted inside his head, he started, “What if I—?”

  “I’m sorry, Tom. I really am.” She stepped away. “But there’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her lashes were damp. “Will you believe me when I say I will never leave here? Not willingly? Because I won’t. Not for anyone or anything.”

  He had little choice but to believe her. And he didn’t like that. Not at all.

  She turned about and shouted, “It’s getting dark, Billy. Time to come in and get ready for bed.” As she turned back around, she said, “I’ll have breakfast ready early, and a bag of food for your travels.”

  Without waiting for his reply, she walked into the house.

  Tom didn’t follow, telling himself he had to be satisfied with the fact he’d tried.

  Billy leaped up onto the porch. “You coming in, Tom?”

  “No, I’m heading to the barn.”

  Billy nodded, but then bolted forward and, to Tom’s surprise, wrapped both arms around his waist, hugging him with all the strength a seven-year-old had.

  “Thanks for catching toads with me, Tom. That was the most fun I’ve had in my whole life.”

  His heart took a solid tumble as he patted the boy’s back. “Me, too, Billy. Me, too.”

  As quick as the hug had started, it ended, and Billy shot toward the open doorway. “See you tomorrow, Tom.”

  “See you,” he replied, catching sight of the tears on Clara’s cheeks as she pushed the door closed behind her son’s entrance.

  Though it was no different than any other night that he’d slept out there, the barn was quieter and lonelier, and his thoughts darker. Ultimately, he couldn’t force her to leave, and the longer he stayed here, the colder Hugh’s trail became. If he didn’t want to return to Oak Grove empty-handed, he needed to hit the road.

  Empty-handed. Hell, he felt empty all the way to his toes. Clara had made it clear there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do, to make her leave here.

  Tom considered packing up and heading out, stopping miles away, wherever exhaustion would finally kick in, but then decided he’d be better off getting in a few hours of sleep first.

  However, his mind wasn’t up to cooperating. It took him down roads he hadn’t thought of in years. Being a kid. Playing with his brothers. Julia. How much he’d loved her and grieved over her death. His parents, and how even after all these years, a wink from his father still made his mother blush. That made him smile.

  It must have also lulled him into slumber because he’d been sound asleep when something startled him so hard he jolted upright. A crack of thunder that rattled the barn had him letting out a sigh of relief. The rain arrived within moments, pelting the side of the barn so hard water flew in between the boards. He moved his bedroll farther away from the wall in order to stay dry as the wind drove the rain through every minor crevice.

  The storm was a wild one, lighting up the sky and rumbling the earth. The echoes of cracks and boom bounced off the hills as additional ones, near and far, sounded.

  A particularly loud rumble of thunder was so close the hair on his arms stood, and seconds later, the distinct cracking of wood had him jumping to his feet and running for the door. A bolt of lightning lit the sky, and alarm engulfed him as a large branch snapped off the cottonwood tree beside the house. Broken side down, the house roof barely slowed the descent of the branch that was nearly as big as the tree itself.

  “Clara! Billy!” He ran to the house and threw open the door.

  Terror washed over him as another bolt of lightning filled the house with light. Leaves still on branches filled the doorway into Clara’s bedroom.

  “Clara!”

  “Tom! Tom! Help!”

  He was at the doorway, shoving aside and breaking off branches before they could spring back. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t move. There’s a tree on my bed.”

  With no way of knowing if more of the branch was hung up on the roof, waiting to fall, he shouted, “I’m coming to get you. Don’t move!”

  “Is Billy all right?”

  “Yes!” Billy shouted from the darkness.

  Guessing Billy’s shout came from his room, Tom replied, “Stay where you are, Billy!”

  Clara’s room hadn’t seemed this large before. From what he could determine, the tree was pretty much straight up and down, with thick branches splaying out in all directions. The hole in the roof had to be mammoth.

  Blindly working his way to the bed, he shouted, “Clara?”

  “I’m still here,” she said. “Haven’t gone anywhere.”

  He had to chuckle at the wit in her voice. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not a squirrel.”

  How a woman who lived the life she did could still have a sense of humor was pretty amazing. Then again, she was all-around pretty amazing. And likable. More than likable.

  His knee bumped what he believed to be the edge of the bed. Just then another flash of lightning gave him a quick view of a long branch stretched across the bed.

  “I’m going to lift the branch up, Clara, and you’ll have to roll out from under it.”

  “All right. When?”

  Having dug beneath the leaves and branches to the
largest part and bracing his knees, he said, “Now!”

  The branch was heavy and stout and still connected to the large base, but he finally got it up high enough he felt Clara bump into his thighs and then slide onto the floor. He let go of the branch and dropped down beside her. Grasping her shoulders, he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.”

  He wanted to pull her close and kiss her, but couldn’t, and not just because the tree could shift at any time.

  “I thought the whole house was collapsing,” she said.

  “It’s just a tree branch,” he said. “A big one. We have to get out of here in case it moves.”

  She put her hands on the floor and started to crawl. “This way, I can see the doorway.”

  In his panic to get to her, he’d never thought about trying to go under the branches, which proved to be far faster and easier than working his way through the tree.

  Once in the kitchen, he stood and grasped her arms to help her stand. “Are you sure you’re all right? Does anything hurt?”

  “Yes. No. That was just scary.” She was trembling, and leaned against him. “I think that’s the second time you’ve saved my life.”

  His eyes had adjusted to the light, and he cupped her face, still fighting the urge to kiss her. “Might be.”

  She blinked and pinched her lips together, but then grinned slightly. “I don’t want there to be a third time, Tom. My luck might be running out.”

  The desire struck too strong to overcome. He had to kiss her, was leaning in and she was leaning toward him when a solid mass hit his thigh.

  “Mom, Tom,” Billy said, clinging to both of them. “What happened?”

  “A branch fell on the house.” Tom planted a hand on the boy’s back to hold him tight against his thigh while draping his other arm around Clara and holding her against his chest. “That’s all,” he said. “Just a branch.”

  There was no going back to sleep for any of them, not even after the storm had passed. By the time the sun came up, they’d eaten breakfast and were prepared to inspect the damage. Tom was ready—actually, he needed—to get out of the house. With her bedroom completely blocked, Clara still only wore her nightgown, which was paper-thin. Every time he looked her way his blood started pounding harder against his veins.

  Praying the cool morning air would chill things down, he got the ladder out of the barn and climbed onto the roof. There was a good-sized hole. Yet, truth be told, he’d expected it to be bigger. The first order of business would be to get the tree out of her bedroom.

  He found several lengths of rope and a pulley in case he needed to hoist the branch back out by way of the roof.

  “What can I get for you, Tom?” Billy asked, tagging along at his side.

  “The saw we used to cut boards, it’s hanging on the wall over there. And that other little one, it’s around here somewhere,” Tom instructed as he walked out of the barn. His eyes landed on the house and he sincerely hoped Clara had found something else to wear. She was fetching all the time, pretty with a remarkable figure, but wearing nothing but her nightgown had desires of doing more than kissing her firing inside him faster than a repeating rifle.

  She hadn’t. Instead, she’d been trying to break off branches. Branches with wet leaves. Her nightgown was even more transparent now.

  Seeing the outline of her curves, the complete shape, including the dark peaks of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach and the... He let out a growl before snapping, “Clara, get out of there.”

  A frown covered her entire face as she pushed aside a branch and stepped out of the room. “There’s no need to—”

  “You don’t even have shoes on.”

  Standing there, wet and facing him, she pointed toward the doorway. “Because they are in there. Along with all my other clothes.” Bracing her hands on her hips, she added, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m wearing a nightgown.”

  He gave her a solid head-to-toe stare, which was enough to take his breath away, before saying, “You think I haven’t noticed that?”

  Her frown grew as she glanced downward. “Noticed wha—?” With a squeal, she crossed her arms over her breasts and spun around.

  “Backside’s about the same.”

  “Oh!” Still facing the other way, she put one hand on her left butt cheek, as if that was going to help anything.

  He couldn’t help himself and let out a bout of laughter.

  “Get out! Get out of my house!”

  “Can’t,” he said. “I gotta figure out how I’m going to get the tree out of your bedroom.”

  With one arm across her breasts and the other hand on her butt, she sidestepped from her doorway to Billy’s and then shot inside the room.

  Tom laughed again. “That’s a good spot for you.”

  “This wouldn’t be so bad if you weren’t enjoying it so much!”

  In full agreement, he muttered, “You can say that again.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing! Not a word!”

  “Liar.”

  He didn’t respond. No need to. He was lying. Taking the escape route they’d used last night, he crawled into the room to get on the other side of the branch and figure out his options.

  “Got the saws, Tom,” Billy said moments before he asked, “Why are you wrapped up in a sheet, Ma?”

  Tom couldn’t have stopped himself from laughing if his life had depended upon it.

  Clara couldn’t remember a time when she’d been more mortified, and considering all she’d been through, mortification should come easy. Someday she might be able to laugh about the day she wore a sheet, but couldn’t imagine when that would be, or who would laugh about it with her. She hadn’t even thought of how flimsy the nightgown was, or how wet. She might as well have been walking around stark naked.

  With the sheet tied at both shoulders, covering as much as possible, she entered the bedroom to help as much as she could. Tom was sawing the fat limb that had fallen across her bed from the rest of the tree branch still standing upright in her room.

  “I told you to stay out of here,” he said.

  “I need to help. I can—”

  “Find something to do in another room.”

  “No, I—”

  He stopped sawing. “Clara, I’m not being mean. You don’t have any shoes on and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  No one had cared if she got hurt or not. More so, he said it with such sincerity, her heart nearly melted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that.”

  He leaned around the branch, and the smile on his face sent those butterflies fluttering inside her stomach again.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, you could push the table and chairs out of the way, make a clear path to the door. My plan is to tie a rope onto this tree and pull it through the front room.”

  “Have you ever done that before?”

  “No, but there’s a first time for everything.”

  There was nothing about the situation that was funny, or fun, but he had a way of making everything enjoyable. “I guess there is.”

  Accepting the chore, she went to work, moving the furniture, and whatever else he found for her to do. She also discovered why Billy liked being with Tom so much. No matter what he was doing, how hard he was working, Tom not only made it fun, he acted as if everything someone else did was exactly how it should be done. There was no arguing or demanding, just everyone working together. It made her feel good. Happy. She hadn’t been happy in a very long time. More than once, she caught herself staring at him, admiring him as he worked, and she couldn’t help but think about how wonderful life would be with him around every day.

  She laughed, they all did, all the while they worked. Because of Tom. When the time came, Tom tied the other end of the rope to the horse and guided Billy on how to lead the horse
slowly away.

  With minimal additional damage to the house, the tree branch was gone. While Tom and Billy dealt with that outside, she hurried into her room, gathered her clothes and shoes and then went into Billy’s room to quickly get dressed.

  Tom was in her room when she entered it, standing near her bed and staring at the floorboards. He’d brushed aside a large pile of leaves, and she stepped around them to see what he was looking at.

  Although there wasn’t a hole in the floor, the boards were cracked and there was an indent showing just how hard that tree had hit. She covered her mouth to keep her gasp silent. All morning, they’d carried on as if it had simply been a little mishap, whereas, in truth, if that tree had landed two feet over, she would have been killed.

  He looked up and she could tell by the unease in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing she was. She closed her eyes, not about to let fear overtake her now, there was no use in that, but when his arms wrapped around her, her defenses evaporated.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly. “You’re all right, and that’s all that matters.”

  She nodded, but kept her arms around his waist and her head tucked against his chest, hiding the tears that fell. There had been many times in her life that this was exactly what she’d craved, for someone to hold her close and say she was all right and that was all that mattered. How he’d known that, she’d never know, but a part of her would always love him for it. Love him in a secret way that she’d never tell anyone.

  He held her close for some time, and she let him. Right or wrong, it was what she needed and she was tired of denying herself any sort of comfort. Tired of never admitting there were things that she needed, wanted.

  When his hold loosened and he took a step back, she let her arms fall to her sides, and looked up. Her heart, as well as everything else inside her, welled with joy as his head dipped toward hers. Even though his lips only went as far as her forehead, she closed her eyes and cherished the long, soft kiss he placed there. Would cherish it forever.

  His hands grasped her upper arms as his lips left her forehead. “Feel better?”