She closed her eyes and still saw her dream town. A place where no one was hiding. Where there were no gunfights.
Then suddenly, down the main street of her dream, she saw herself, strolling arm in arm with a tall, dark-haired man who smiled down at her as if she were the only woman in the country. And though she couldn't see his face, she knew it was Jesse Hogan.
Miranda's' eyes flew open and she straightened abruptly. For heaven's sake, she told herself. You only just met the man. Unwillingly, though, her mind conjured, up her meeting with the strange man. She saw him again, travel weary, dusty, his green eyes moving over her familiarly as, though he'd done it many times before. She remembered the spiraling curl of excitement that started in her stomach and grew rapidly at the sound of his deep voice.
Stop it. She stood up and carried her teacup back into the tiny kitchen of her small cabin. A cold wind whispered under the partially opened window and the starched red calico curtains fluttered in response. Miranda shivered, reached across the plank counter, and slammed the window shut. She shook her head and rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to dispel the chill creeping over her flesh.
What was it about the man that kept his image so fresh in her mind? Lord knew, she'd been around men all her life.
And none of them had ever affected her like this!
Determinedly she drew the cord of her red flannel robe about her waist and pulled it tight. As she jammed her hands into the pockets she reluctantly admitted that he'd even had an influence on her clothing!
Somehow it had never occurred to her before that her satin robes and sheer nightgowns were quite so revealing. But then, no other man had ever looked at her the way Jesse Hogan had. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded. She remembered how his eyes had glittered and how his gaze had raked over her body as though he could see right through the flimsy coverings she wore.
And for the first time she began to wonder if maybe her mother had been wrong. Maybe giving your heart to an outlaw didn't necessarily mean trouble and heartache. And if it did, maybe it would be worth it.
The front door flew open and crashed into the inside wall. Miranda forgot everything else and ran toward the sound.
Buck Farley, one of the new men in town, stood in the open doorway.
“What is it?" Miranda said quickly. “What's wrong?"
He gulped in air and pointed back down the street “It’s Bobby. Bobby Sawyer. He's finally come back."
Miranda took another step toward the man. "And… ?"
“He's hurt bad, Miranda." The man swallowed and shook his head. “Real bad. Took a bullet a couple days ago and been ridin' ever since tryin' to get back here." Buck's lips twisted into a disgusted frown. "Damn fool kid."
Miranda was already turning for the stack of bandages she kept ready in a cupboard near the door. She filled her arms with as much as she could carry, then said, “Where is he?"
“Little bunkhouse."
She nodded and started moving. Then she turned and ordered, "Go to the restaurant. Boil some water. Bring me a bowl of it and ask Jim Sully if he’ll give me a hand, will you?"
"Sure thing, Miranda," He pulled the door to. "But why Jim? I'll help."
“I know, Buck. And thanks." She smiled and patted his arm. “But Jim's done this kind of thing lots of times." Miranda turned and hurried down the lopsided boardwalk toward the bunkhouse at the end of the street. "Now hurry up, Buck," she called over her shoulder.
She heard the man take off for the restaurant and, though she didn't slow her steps any, Miranda took the time to glance skyward and mumble a plea for help.
Download Nevada Heat by Maureen Child today!
Other historical romances by Maureen Child:
Small Treasures
Charms
Wishes
Paper Hearts (novella)
Frontier Bride
Mountain Dawn Page 28