The Lawman

by Patricia Potter

  She didn’t even like him. She didn’t like his profession. She didn’t like the cool, enigmatic expression that gave so little away. Most of all, she didn’t like the fact that he was dedicated to arresting the person she loved most in the world.

  He was hard and arrogant and unbending.

  Except, she admitted, for those few minutes when he’d talked about Sarah. His Sarah. It had been obvious that he’d loved her and his child. She’d ached for him then. For a moment, she’d even felt close to him. She understood what it was like to grieve.

  But shared grief didn’t explain why she was so attracted to the marshal. To Jared. She tried to tell herself it was because she had grown to womanhood, and there had been no eligible males in her life. Maybe she’d just been ready, and anyone—or almost anyone—would have raised the same sensations.

  She doubted that, too. She wished she could talk to Mac, but of course that was impossible. And Archie? He would probably go kill the marshal. Only Reese might understand, and he wasn’t here.

  No, this was something she had to figure out on her own.

  Blazes, but her heart still pounded.

  Even worse, the beguiling feelings inside had started to build on each other. She’d had one kiss, and she wanted more. Then she’d felt his body, and she wanted even more. When his hands had touched her breasts, she wanted him to touch all of her. But why did he ignite such fires in her belly?

  Worse, why did she let him?

  She was strong. She did her share around the saloon and panned the creek for gold. It was hard work, much harder than would-be miners had anticipated. She’d thought Jared would be weak after losing so much blood, but it had been an iron hand that drew her to him.

  She should have known. She should have learned from the first time he kissed her. She never should have gotten that close to him again. And she could have stopped him at any time; all she had to do was strike his wounded leg. Instead she’d tried to avoid it, and she’d responded in a way that shamed her. It was a betrayal of Mac.

  Sam’s face warmed at the memory of Jared’s kiss, at the feel of his hands on her and his lips…

  She tried to stop trembling. Take a step. She couldn’t let Archie see her like this. She was horrified at her reactions to the marshal. She had to think of him as the man who wanted to see her best friend hanged, not a man who had aroused such unfamiliar and irresistible feelings in her.

  When she’d lowered her guard, he had pounced. But she couldn’t blame it all on him. She had allowed it to happen.

  Do something useful. She needed to finish getting supplies together in case they had to move quickly to a mine shaft or, even better, head on to Montana.

  She stopped at the kitchen and used water from the pump to dampen her cheeks, then went upstairs to her room. She would have to leave some of her most prized possessions behind, particularly the medical books Reese had found. She chose one on anatomy and put it on her bed. She hoped that Reese could arrange for the other books to be shipped to wherever they settled. Then she picked up her guitar and sat on the bed. She strummed a few chords. That had to go with her.

  She hadn’t played since Mac’s return. She’d been too busy for one thing, and too heartsick for another. But now he was getting better, she would play for him.

  And the marshal. She remembered the book in his saddlebags. A rare thing, she thought, for a lawman to carry around. Did he like music, as well? He seemed too austere for that. Now that he was awake more often, she should give his book to him.

  She went up to Mac’s room and called Archie to step outside. “His wound looks good. I’m going to take him some stew.”

  “He polite to you?” Archie asked.

  She nodded.

  “Didn’t make any advances? Try to convince you of somethin’?”

  “He just mentioned that Benson again. Said we should leave.”

  He muttered a string of oaths. She caught enough words to guess he was running through his army vocabulary. When he finished, he said, “You go ahead and take supplies to the mine.”

  “I want to see Mac first.” She turned and opened the door.

  Dawg lazily got to his feet from his place next to the bed. He licked her hand as if sensing she was out of sorts. She gave him a big hug before he returned to play sentinel beside Mac.

  Mac was still awake. He gave her a weak smile. “Princess. You sure look better than Archie. He’s been like an old woman, fussing over me like I was half-dead.”

  “You were,” she replied. “You still are.” She went to his side. She remembered how he’d looked ten years ago. He seldom joked and rarely smiled, but he’d been handsome as the devil, her mother used to say. She remembered how her mother had lit up like a star whenever he came in the door. He couldn’t be much more than ten years older than the marshal, but his light brown hair was touched with gray, and in the past few days the lines in his face had deepened.

  “Help me sit up,” he said.

  She wanted to. She wanted him to regain his strength. But not too fast. Not so fast that he would find the marshal.

  How ironic that both were recovering from bullet wounds, these two enemies who were totally unaware that the other was just feet away. She and Archie had to keep it that way, at least until Mac could travel.

  “I take Archie’s side this time,” she said. “You were barely conscious a day ago, and you won’t be going anywhere if you try to do more than you should.”

  “This coming from the most impatient young lady I know?” he said, even as he slowly relaxed.

  “I just want you to get better.”

  “Getting anxious to leave now?” he said with the semblance of a smile.

  “I’m happy wherever you and Reese and Archie are.”

  “I hear Montana is a good place for cattle. Wide-open with great grazing land. We’ll have a good life there.”

  There was real enthusiasm in his voice, and it warmed her heart. He knew his gun hand was injured. He would never have the movement needed for a quick draw, and he seemed almost relieved. She wanted to ask him about the woman mentioned by the marshal, but she couldn’t. Then he would ask why she was interested. Besides, she didn’t believe the marshal.

  “I wish we could leave today,” she said. Getting a good distance from the marshal was not only wise but absolutely necessary.

  “That’s a change,” he said. “I thought we would have to pry you away.”

  She was saved from an answer by Archie’s return. “I’ll stay with Mac,” he said.

  “I don’t need anyone to stay with me,” Mac protested.

  “Mebbe not, but make an old man happy,” Archie said.

  He followed Sam out of the room, closing the door behind him. “That marshal won’t need nothing else tonight,” he said. “I locked the door. Now you take Dawg and get some sleep. Tomorrow, you take them supplies to the mine. If anyone comes, we’ll have to move mighty fast.”

  She nodded. It might be the last sleep she would get for a while.

  If she even could sleep. Her mind was whirling with tempestuous emotions. So was her body. Just thinking about the marshal created warm, pulsing feelings inside.

  “Come,” she told Dawg, who had followed her.

  She went to her room down the hall and closed the door. Don’t think about him. Think about Montana. About a green valley and a herd of cattle. And peace.

  Sam went to the window and looked out. The night was dark. Clouds hurried across the sky, curtaining any light from the moon and stars. No one would be traveling tonight, not across the treacherous passes. Mac was safe for the moment. Maybe it would rain again tomorrow. The weather might give them a few more days.

  But how many?

  SAM ROSE at sunrise the next day. She stretched, then brushed the curtains away and stared at the rain turning the road outside into a sea of mud. Thank God.

  She’d slept lightly through the night. Thunder had jerked her awake several times and the respite in between was haunted b
y forbidden memories of what had occurred in the room downstairs. Of all the men in the world, the marshal should be the least likely to stir such vivid and erotically painful feelings. She’d read about erotic, but she’d never thought she would feel anything like it.

  She was frightened by how much she wanted to go to his room again, to engage in verbal combat as well as…

  Was the door downstairs still locked? Was the marshal better? Was Mac improving by the hour? And what would happen when the two men met?

  And what would happen the next time she saw the marshal? Jared? Would there be fireworks and challenge and, hell’s blazes, raw, naked lust?

  Lust. Now she knew what the word meant. It was no longer just an abstract notion in a book.

  She started to dress. A clean pair of pants and cotton shirt, but old, worn boots. She stopped halfway through dressing and looked at herself in the full-length mirror that Reese had brought from Denver.

  Always before she’d just taken a quick glance, or sometimes no glance at all. But now…she examined herself in a different way. Her hair curled around a rather ordinary face. She usually ran a comb through it in the morning. Now she wished she hadn’t asked Archie to cut it every few months when it got long enough to be a bother. She was taller than most. Her father had almost reached to the sky. At least that was how it seemed to a six-year-old girl. Her mother said he was the tallest man she’d ever seen.

  And now she—Sam—would be twenty-one in a month. Most girls were married by now. But she knew she wasn’t the usual respectable young lady. She could cheat at poker, use a whip to slash bark off a tree and shoot bottles in the air.

  A shudder ran through her at how close she’d come to killing a man. Of being killed herself. As much as she hated to admit it, if Jared had not hesitated that fraction of a second, she would probably be dead.

  That meant she owed him.

  She went downstairs to the kitchen and made coffee, then mixed up some biscuits and put them in the oven.

  The door of the marshal’s room beckoned, but she resisted. Instead she took coffee up to Mac. She knocked and entered when there was no response. Mac was alone on the bed. She hadn’t heard Archie go down the stairs. He was probably planning to check on the marshal’s wound and help him with personal needs. Maybe he thought now that Mac was a little better, he ought to care for the marshal himself. Maybe he’d noticed something about her had changed.

  She felt different. Very different.

  She started to leave when Mac opened his eyes.

  “Sam?”

  She went over to his side. “I brought you some coffee.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve never been a good liar,” he said slowly. His eyes were clearer than they had been. “Something is going on. Archie’s acting strange. He’s not telling me something. He’s edgy, and that’s not like him.”

  She wished she knew what Archie had said. Maybe part of the truth would do. “We may have to move you,” she said. “A rider came by and said a posse might be coming after you.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. “You can never escape the past,” he said. “I thought…”

  “Apparently one of the men you shot had important relatives. Jake and Ike are keeping watch at the pass. We’re planning to move you to one of the old mines.”

  He struggled to sit upright. “I’ll… We can leave for Montana now.”

  “Archie says you wouldn’t get more than a few miles. You were nearly dead when you made it here.”

  “I’m not going to let you get involved.”

  “I’m as involved as anyone can be,” she said. “You took care of me for years.”

  “And I can still make decisions for myself, missy.”

  Missy. He hadn’t called her that in a long time, and only used it when she’d displeased him.

  “No, you can’t,” she said sharply. “If you try, you’ll be dead inside of two days. You still have some infection in you. You can’t ride for long, and if we’re caught in the open, we’ll all die because we won’t leave you behind and we won’t give you up.”

  He looked stunned at her vehemence.

  “Best thing you can do is stay still and get well. Faster you get better, sooner we can leave.” She sat next to him, took his hand and leaned against him as she did when she was a child. “Promise me you will stay in bed. Jake and Ike are keeping watch. I’m getting a mine ready if we need it. We can all hide there for a few days.”

  His eyes softened. “What have we done to you, Samantha? You should be married with children, not hiding in a mine with a wanted outlaw.”

  Samantha? He never called her Samantha.

  “Promise?” she insisted. “Eat. And rest. Promise me you won’t wander around. You need as much strength as possible so we can leave for Montana when…”

  His shoulders slumped, but she knew she’d won. For the moment, at least.

  Maybe she should tell him about the marshal. But then she didn’t know what would happen. Mac would probably go down and try to confront him, and he was no match now for even a wounded marshal.

  “Yes, missy,” he said obediently. “You’ve become mighty bossy.”

  “I had good teachers. Now sleep.”

  He lay down, but she didn’t believe he’d conceded so easily. He sensed she hadn’t told him everything. She wanted to stay, but she had to take supplies to the mine.

  If anyone was spotted from the top of the pass, she figured they would have about an hour. She’d already taken pains to wash or burn anything with bloodstains. Hopefully the rain would continue and wipe away their tracks. If not, well, she knew a few tricks.

  And the marshal? They could just leave him chained to the bed. Let him believe they had left the valley.

  Blast the man.

  She went down to the bar and checked the bundles she’d prepared. She added candles, turpentine and moss, along with a few pans. They might need supplies for a week or longer. By the time she finished, she had filled four large flour sacks.

  Keep busy. Keep away from the marshal. He’s nothing but trouble.

  She couldn’t help glance at his room, though. Maybe he needed some breakfast.

  Then the door opened, and Archie came out. He closed the door behind him but didn’t lock it.

  “How is the marshal?” she asked.

  Archie shrugged. “He’ll live to hunt again. Too bad.” He paused, then added, “He’s getting better too quick. Constitution of a damned horse. I chained him to the bed with his cuffs. If he got past you, I wouldn’t be surprised if he crawled up them stairs.”

  Sam agreed. She knew exactly how strong he was. “Did you take him any breakfast?”

  “Took some hardtack. He doesn’t need anything fancy. Ornery bastard.”

  “You always said good food speeds healing.”

  “You want ’im to heal fast?”

  She had no answer to that. “I saw Mac. He’s better.”

  “Not as much as he thinks,” Archie grumped.

  “I talked him into staying put for a while.”

  Archie pointed to the sacks on the table. “Got everything there?”

  She nodded. “Blankets. Bacon, beans, coffee, lots of hardtack and jerky. I tore up another sheet for bandages, and I added a bottle of whiskey. Some jars of preserves and cans of fruit. I think my horse and your mule can take it all in one trip.”

  He nodded. “I’ll take Mac’s horse and pick up Burley. We’ll meet Jake at the pass. Best Burley don’t see you going toward the mines. A drink of whiskey, and he’ll talk forever.”

  “Mac might try to come downstairs with neither of us here.”

  “I don’t think he can get out of bed yet.” He hesitated, then added, “If you go in that room, Sam, be careful. There’s something in that man’s eyes…. He ain’t gonna give up.”

  She hoped her face hadn’t flamed again. He didn’t know how careful she needed to be. She felt Archi
e’s eyes on her. They seemed to see everything.

  He shifted on his feet and grumbled again. “The marshal’s still in a lot of pain, and it should be a few days before he can put weight on that leg, but…” His voice trailed off. “I warned him. He tries anything with you, and I’ll whip the skin from his hide. Don’t care who or what he is.”

  She waited as Archie found some oilcloth and helped her wrap up the filled flour sacks. “Leave after you see me ride out with Burley,” he said.

  When they finished to his satisfaction, he gave her a long look. “If this Benson or more law comes,” he said slowly, “we’ll have a problem with the marshal.”

  She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “I might have to kill him,” Archie said flatly. “We can’t take him with us to the mine—he’d be too much trouble with that leg. If we leave him here, he would tell anyone who came that we’d just left and that’d start an extensive search.”

  “But…”

  “It’s simple, Sam. The marshal’s gaining strength. How long could we keep him silent in a mine?”

  He looked her straight in the eyes. “If he’s right and Benson brings an army of gunmen, it’ll come down to Mac or the marshal.”

  THE WORDS CHILLED HER, but she tried not to let it show. She knew Archie meant what he said. He and Mac went way back.

  He’d spoken the words so easily. Yet they stabbed her like a knife in the stomach. Her reaction was ridiculous, she knew. She could have killed the marshal the day he came looking for Mac. She’d taken that risk. Now the possibility of his death was excruciating.

  Maybe Archie was testing her. Or maybe he was preparing her. Worry haunted his eyes when he looked at her now. She was still a child to him. It was as if he was testing her, weighing what she would do. Then he nodded. “You’ll do okay, girl.” He left without another word.

  She wondered whether he sensed what had happened between her and the marshal yesterday. Did he suspect how much faster her heart beat when she was around their captive? How her body was experiencing totally new feelings and needs?

  Maybe she could make a deal with the marshal. They would let him go, and he would forget about Mac.