Gathering herself, she pushed loose hair from her face. “Of course I’m all right. You weren’t shooting at me.” She looked at the dogs. “But I’m not so sure about Cougar.”
Cade followed her gaze. The yellow dog was runnin’ tale-tucked for the house. Blue watched him go. Cade chuckled.
“It’s not funny, poor thing. I should have warned him.”
“You can’t warn him. Besides, he’ll get used to it.”
“I can too.” The steel in her tone made him almost believe she could.
“Face the tree.” He reached around her again. “One more. Then it’s your turn.”
“I don’t need one more. Let me try it.” She held up her hand.
Fitting the gun in her fingers, he covered her right hand with his. “Don’t pull the trigger. Just get comfortable with the way the gun feels. Now wrap your left hand around your right.”
He looked easily over her shoulder, grateful that gunpowder masked the smell of her hair. “See the sight at the end of the barrel? Line that up just below the next tin.”
“Shouldn’t I aim right at it?”
“No, because you’ll probably shoot high.”
She turned her head.
“Don’t look at me. Look where the gun’s pointing.”
She let out an exasperated puff.
“Now cock the hammer with your right thumb. When you’ve got the sight lined up just below the tin, squeeze the trigger with your finger. Don’t pull it or jerk it. Just squeeze nice and—”
The gun fired and she fell against him again but quickly recovered. “I did it!”
She looked up at him, head tilted back, her smiling lips inches away. He swallowed hard and reached around her to cover her hands with his. “Keep your eyes out here. On your target.”
“Oh, all right.”
“Try it again.” He lowered his hands but stayed close against her.
She sighted, cocked the hammer, and fired. A tin sailed into the air.
“I hit it, I hit it!” She whirled around and hugged his neck before he could grip her wrists.
“Be careful where you point that thing. You don’t want to shoot the horses.”
With her laughter washing over him like a torrent, she handed him the gun, tipped up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
The warmth of her lips shot him clean through the heart. Knocked off balance as sure as the old peach tin, he slid the gun in his holster and realigned his sights.
CHAPTER 15
Mae Ann stepped back, her cheeks aflame. She’d been so excited—only two shots and she’d hit the target! And ridden a horse. And been given a dog. Her heart was overflowing, and the flood had swamped her good sense as surely as the storm had swamped the garden.
But that one careless act had changed everything. The tension between them stretched like barbed wire. She hugged her middle. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Cade quickly reclaimed the distance she’d made and cupped his rough hand against her face, sending the heat in her cheeks even higher. A passion in his eyes held her rooted to the ground, and his voice dropped to the deep tone she’d first heard at the bank. “Don’t you?”
Surely he felt her pulse beneath his fingers. She drew air in through her nose, determined not to faint from the lack of it.
“Mae Ann—”
The last tin flew off the cottonwood and a shot cracked the stillness. Cade threw her to the ground and covered her with his body, his breath hot and sharp in her ear. He lay atop her as rigid and unyielding as the dead tree, every muscle in his body a rock. Slipping his hat off, he raised his head to scan the horizon.
His heartbeat hammered against her own and she pushed at his chest. “I can’t breathe.”
He covered her mouth with his left hand, but bent one knee to ease his weight from her. “Don’t make a sound.” His graveled voice held no desire as before, merely a warning that chilled her as thoroughly as a sudden hailstorm.
Did he think someone had deliberately shot at them? Who would do such a thing?
She craned her neck toward the horses. They’d pulled free but hadn’t run off. Blue stood half the distance to them, his ears pointed toward a small rise, the same direction Cade looked.
“Blue.” His harshly whispered command flattened the dog’s ears, and it trotted to him and dropped to the grass.
Something like a growl rumbled in Cade’s chest and he rolled off Mae Ann. She pulled in a precious breath but missed his warmth against her. Uncertain what to think or feel, she also rolled to her belly and looked toward the rise. Grass, juniper, rocks.
“Crawl over to that bush, but stay low. I’ll cover you.”
Afraid to push any higher than the grass, she dragged herself to the nearest bush. Cade scuttled right beside her, shielding her from the rise. He gave her the gun and crept back to the stump for the box of shells. When he returned, he pulled another gun from his belt, holstered it, and tied thin leather thongs from the holster’s tip around his leg. Then he took the first gun and reloaded it.
His features remained hard and cold as he pressed the weapon into her hand. “Don’t be afraid to use it. Follow your instincts. If MacGrath or someone you don’t know shows up and threatens you, wait until they’re closer than the cottonwood is, aim low, and squeeze the trigger. Don’t forget to cock the hammer first.”
“Where are you going?”
His fingers skimmed the hair at her temple as his eyes darkened. “If I’m not back in a half hour, get to Ginger or Cricket—either one—and ride to the house. Deacon may already be headed this way if he heard the rifle shot.”
She gripped his fingers that lay against her head. “Don’t go.”
His eyes grazed her mouth before he touched her lips with his own. “Do as I say. Please.”
Then he reached for his hat, rose to a crouch, and scuttled off to the nearest scrub oak.
Mae Ann held her breath until he reappeared, running hunched over to the next cluster—heading toward the shooter!
Blue trotted after him, dropping when Cade dropped in the long grass, staying close by his side. With shaking fingers, she skimmed her lips, tracing his kiss.
How long was a half hour? The sun hung hot in the afternoon sky, not yet to its journey toward evening, and she marked the shadow clinging to a nearby bush. Could she shoot a man in self-defense? What if Cade was hurt in the meantime, or worse?
Banishing the pointless questions, she propped herself up on her elbows and squinted at the hill for any movement there or in the wide expanse of grass and scattered juniper between. She felt completely and utterly alone, yet she knew she wasn’t. Cade was out there somewhere with Blue.
A horse stamped a foot. Its tail swished as it grazed. No meadowlark sang. No quail alerted its fellows. All was still but the buzzing flies and her thumping heart.
She waited.
Perhaps five minutes.
Sweat trailed into her eyes. She’d left her hat on Ginger’s saddle horn, and now it lay in the grass. A scuffle behind her jerked her head around to a yellow patch shifting in the blanket of green.
Mae Ann checked the rise one more time, then grabbed the box of shells and rolled to her left, closer to where the horses grazed.
“Cougar, come.” Her urgent whisper raised the pup’s ears, and his amber eyes seemed to smile at her call. He crawled toward her on his belly. Was he really that smart, or did he think this was a game?
She hugged his body to her, welcoming his wet kisses. “Shush now, Cougar. You must be brave. No crying.” He licked his jowls and looked toward the rise as if he understood. If that were truly the case, she’d send him for Deacon.
Oh, Lord. Please protect Cade.
Another noise broke behind her, but this time she rolled to a sitting position and raised the pistol. Cougar’s ears flattened and his soulful eyes looked away. He didn’t like the gun. Neither did she, for that matter. But if it came down to herself or someone like the man who
shot Henry … Well, she’d make that call when she had no other choice.
She thumbed the hammer back and bent her knees as a rest for her quivering arms.
A light whistle shot through the brush. Cougar’s ears rose and he thumped his tail but didn’t make a sound.
“Stay,” she commanded.
Another whistle, closer.
What if the shooter had crawled around behind her as Cade made his way to the hill? But if Deacon had heard the rifle shot, he’d come in under cover rather than riding in, making himself a target. She had a fifty-fifty chance of shooting Cade’s foreman and a man dear to her heart.
Then again, there could be two shooters, like the two bank robbers. The not knowing made her head hurt.
Cougar raised his ears toward a sharp hiss. Mae Ann quickly aimed toward the sound.
“Cougar!” The whisper came from the brush. Only two people knew what she’d named the dog, and Cade had headed for the rise. It had to be Deacon.
She pointed the gun skyward and took a chance. “Deacon?”
A hat poked out of the brush on one side and wiggled. It looked like the old cowboy’s, sweat stain and all. Cougar thumped his tail again.
Mae Ann leveled the gun. One chance was enough. If this was a distraction, then she’d at least take down one of the shooters. Or frighten him. Or deafen him. She reached down deep in her chest for a heavier voice. “Show yourself.”
The hat wiggled again and Deacon stuck his gray head out on the other side of the bush.
Mae Ann’s breath jammed against her rib cage and she lowered the gun.
Deacon hurried to her, crouched as Cade had been. “That Cade boy picked hisself a winner in you, he did.” His mustache spread the width of his face.
Boy? Mae Ann filed that tidbit away for later. If there was a later. And she had done the picking, thank you very much. Maybe Deacon didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She pointed north. “He thinks the shot came from that small rise.”
Deacon narrowed his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible.
“What?” She crawled closer.
“MacGrath. I’d lay money on it.”
Mae Ann swallowed hard. “You really think he’d try to shoot us?”
“Try to scare you is more like it. Fool varmint could have hit one of you or either of the horses.”
“From the expression on Cade’s face when he left, he was not the least bit frightened.”
Deacon grumped. “If you’re the prayin’ sort, then you need to pray MacGrath or whoever it was skedaddles ’fore Cade gets there.”
~
Enough dust hung in the air to prove that whoever had been there had just ridden off in a hurry.
Cade skirted a cedar patch and came up on the other side of a rock outcropping near the crest. A quick search of the ground netted the rifle casing, still warm. He clutched it in his fist and scanned the horizon north of Parker land. It had to be MacGrath.
Cade pocketed the cartridge and headed back to Mae Ann, his head so full of conflicting desires he could hardly think.
She’d kissed him.
And then he’d kissed her because by that point there was a chance it’d be his last opportunity.
He kicked into a trot, Blue at his heels. By the time he got to her, it’d be more than a half hour.
A hundred yards out from the cottonwood, he saw both horses still grazing. She hadn’t done what he’d told her. Confounded woman. How could he keep her safe if she didn’t listen to him?
As he neared, he moved out into the open so she wouldn’t shoot him. “Mae Ann.”
She and Deacon came from behind the scrub oak. Cade’s irritation lifted at the sight of his friend, then landed again. He couldn’t take Mae Ann in his arms the way he wanted.
Nor could he keep her. Today’s near miss changed everything.
He’d put her on the next train. After the dust settled over the will, maybe she’d come back to him, not as a last-chance grasp at security, but because she wanted to.
He wiped his face with his neckerchief and tossed the cartridge to his foreman.
“MacGrath?”
“Gone just before I got there, so I can’t be sure.”
“No-good outlaw.” Deacon returned the shell. “Too bad he didn’t carve his initials in the casing so we could nail his sorry hide.”
The relief on Mae Ann’s face made Cade’s chest hurt. She held out the gun. He took it from her and eased the hammer down.
She blanched and raised both hands to her face with a gasp. “I didn’t think to do that.”
“I didn’t tell you. Or show you.” Deacon or no, Cade pulled Mae Ann to him and held her close. “Thank God you’re all right.”
She looped her arms around his waist and let loose a shuddering sigh.
Another time, another place, he promised himself.
He set her at arm’s length, drinking in her tousled beauty and nerve. She was more woman than he’d bargained on. More woman than he deserved. “You can ride double with me. Deacon’ll take Ginger back.”
Deacon handed him Cricket’s reins and gave Mae Ann her hat. Cade stowed the gun and shells in his saddlebag and mounted. He pulled his left foot from the stirrup and reached for her. “Wrap your hand around my wrist.”
She set her foot and grabbed hold, and he easily lifted her up behind him. “Hold on.”
Both her arms encircled him, and he turned Cricket and his heart away from the fallen cottonwood and toward the house.
Cougar fell in step with Blue and they scouted ahead—the yellow dog nose to the ground and Blue sniffing the air. Quite a team. Complete opposites. Like him and Mae Ann.
He covered her clasped hands with one of his, and her warmth against his back fired the longing inside him. He needed to get her to town as soon as possible. Before he lost his nerve.
~
Mae Ann anticipated a rough and hurried ride back to the house, but at Cricket’s easy pace, she laid her head against Cade’s broad shoulders. His rib cage expanded and contracted with a deep sigh that seemed to match her own surprising sense of well-being—in spite of their close call.
Contentment was a rare treat, but lately she’d tasted it more and more. Especially when she and Cade spent time together, as they had today until someone fired over their heads.
When he’d covered her hands with his, she closed her eyes in gratitude, but not just for their safety.
At the barn, she slid off Cricket and waited as Cade dismounted. Deacon took the horses, and Cade took her elbow and led her toward the bench. Her arms still held the warmth of his body, and it spread all the way to her toes as she seated herself and he joined her.
The same rough hand that so easily held a gun and reins gently turned hers over and stroked her palm, sending rivulets of longing through her arms.
“About our business agreement.”
The rivulets swelled. She searched his rugged face for signs of affection, but inwardly froze at the pain she found there instead.
He pressed her hand between both of his, capturing her breath with his worried eyes. “I made a vow before God and man that I would protect you.”
Dread nearly strangled her, and she fought for her voice. “But you did. We made it home, didn’t we? And you taught me to shoot. What is that, if not protection?”
The muscle in his jaw flexed. He slowly shook his head and turned her hand palm down, closing his strong fingers around it. “I think you should go back to Missouri.”
Hope shattered, falling in fine glass shards at her feet. Go back to what? The boardinghouse?
A quail beckoned its mate, and she slowly withdrew her hand. How poorly she had read his intentions.
He leaned on his knees and stared at his empty hands as if hunting something. “It’s not that you haven’t kept your end of the deal.”
She gripped the bench and dug in her nails until they threatened to break. She would not shed tears in front of him. Not at his rejection.
What o
f the shooting lesson? The riding lessons? Cougar? She dare not ask these questions, for her voice would betray her. To open her mouth would open the way for all her dreams to gush out onto the ground. All the graciousness she’d been harboring. All the peace for which she had prayed.
She drew her feet together and tucked them beneath the bench.
He turned to face her, determination displacing pain. “Whoever shot at us today could have killed you. I won’t let that happen. I’ll put you up at the hotel in town until the first train east. After the will is settled, then …”
His voice trailed off, and she squeezed the board until splinters pushed beneath her nails. Then she’d be right back where she started. No home and no prospects.
Unbidden, Cougar angled toward her, uncertain, hesitant, but finally sitting beside her knee, where he laid his golden head. At least someone appreciated her.
“I see.”
“Do you?” Frustration edged his voice, and it raised her hackles.
Cougar whined and she patted his soft head.
“Do you see that I am right?”
She stared at the dog, losing herself in his adoration and blinking back tears.
“Mae Ann, look at me.”
She could not. If she did, she would lose every stitch of starch and self-respect. His words squeezed a welling into her throat that she refused to reveal in her eyes. And their message contradicted what she’d believed was growing between them. Clearly, she couldn’t trust him.
She pulled at her collar, in need of air. And to think, she’d believed he’d grown accustomed to her, possibly cared for her. He’d kissed her.
“Mae Ann.”
What must he think of her, making herself so comfortable in the clothes he’d given her, in his mother’s kitchen? In his home. His bedroom.
“It’s not safe for you here. You saw that today.” He tipped her chin with a rough finger and turned her face to him.
She stared at his shirt buttons. If she looked any higher, she would melt into his arms and beg him not to send her away.
She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to beg.
He let out a heavy sigh. “Mae Ann, it’s for the best. For your safety.”
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