Quinn's Honor

by Shirleen Davies

  Even now, standing alongside Moonshine, she felt shivers of excitement as she remembered that night. The Pearce ranch survived by raising and selling cattle. Emma’s passion was horses. She’d never been able to convince her father to do more than keep enough horses for the remuda, but she hadn’t given up. Getting Warrior’s colt would be a start.

  The night of the Christmas church party, the same night Big Jim was shot, her father had spoken to Ewan about buying the animal. She wondered if Quinn’s uncle had ever mentioned the conversation to him.

  Feeling a renewed sense of peace, Emma swung back into the saddle. Maybe something good could come from Quinn working at the ranch. At supper tonight, she’d ask about the colt, beginning her crusade to work out a deal with the cocky cowboy. She didn’t know what his terms would be, but she knew it wouldn’t be too hefty a price if it meant fulfilling her dream of owning the colt.

  Quinn sat atop Warrior, scanning the evening sky before riding down the last hill to the Pearce ranch. Three men had been left to guard the herd, the other three riding well ahead of him. He’d worked them hard, never giving an inch. In return, he got what he believed might be the first full day of labor from the young men. Their exhaustion clearly showed in the slump of their shoulders and slow pace of their horses.

  He felt good about his first day as foreman. Except for the tension with Emma, Quinn believed he’d made the right decision to offer his help. Approaching the house, he spotted Gertie waving for him. His plan to eat and bunk with the men had been pushed aside by her easy grace. Gertie had informed him a room had already been prepared in the house and he’d take his meals with the family. She’d accept no excuses.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Pearce.” Dismounting, he glanced up at the porch. Even though it made no sense, he felt a wave of disappointment that Gertie stood alone. “Did Emma make it back?”

  “A long time ago. She’s finishing getting supper ready. Stable your horse, then come inside. I want to hear all about your first day.”

  Quinn didn’t know what Emma may have told her mother, but it didn’t matter. Gertie would form her own opinions about his work and the way the men responded. Removing the tack, he brushed Warrior, then took his time getting him fresh hay and water.

  Peeling off his shirt, Quinn doused his head with water, feeling the taut muscles revive as it streamed down his chest and back. Shaking off the moisture, he pulled a clean shirt out of his saddlebags, then stopped at the sound of footsteps followed by a gasp.

  “Oh. I, um…”

  Slipping into the shirt, he turned, leaving the front open. Emma had her back to him. “Is there something you needed, Emma?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” She took a deep breath, turning, hoping he didn’t notice the flush she felt on her face. “Mama says it’s time to come in for supper.”

  Buttoning his shirt, Quinn would’ve chuckled if she wasn’t trying so hard to hide her red cheeks. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen the ranch hands with their shirts off.”

  Crossing her arms, Emma glared at him. “Of course I’ve seen men without shirts.”

  “Just not me, right, lass?”

  Biting her lower lip, she remembered the colt’s birth. By the time it was over, he’d shucked his shirt, his back and chest gleaming with dampness. He’d been so busy, she’d been able to hide her reaction.

  “I’ve seen you without a shirt, Quinn,” she shot back, seeing the surprise on his face. “The night your colt was born. Now, if you want to eat, I’d suggest you get inside.” Lifting her chin, she spun around, leaving him to watch her retreat.

  He tucked his shirt in, then grabbed his hat. It had been a while since he’d seen Emma turn such a pretty shade of red. Each time it happened, his body responded just as it did tonight.

  If it had been any other woman, one he wasn’t honor bound not to touch, he would’ve stepped closer, taking her in his arms. He’d given his word—not just to Colin, but to Uncle Ewan. They knew him better than he knew himself.

  Quinn lived for whatever adventure would surface each day. There wasn’t a task he couldn’t complete or a woman who could resist his charms. The bigger the challenge, the better he liked it. And he never backed down. The one exception was Emma.

  He was impulsive and brash, eager to take action. Some would even say foolhardy and wild at times. Emma didn’t have a reckless bone in her body. All her actions were expected—no surprises, nothing spontaneous. As much as he wanted her, they’d never mesh. Emma needed someone more like her—reliable, unassuming, and supportive—not a man who looked for excitement and spurned anything too comfortable.

  “Are you coming, MacLaren?”

  Quinn couldn’t stop the chuckle at the use of his last name. She had always called him Quinn, and he loved the way it rolled off her tongue. Maybe it was Emma’s way of creating a wall, a barrier neither could breach. Taking the porch steps two at a time, he smiled. He might not be able to act on his feelings, but there was no reason he couldn’t enjoy himself during his time at the ranch.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Pearce. I can’t recall ever having a better berry pie.” Quinn leaned back in his chair, touching the edge of his coffee cup.

  “Go on. I happen to know your mother and all the MacLaren women make wonderful pies. In fact, my crust recipe came from your Aunt Kyla.”

  “And I’ll be telling them you’re ready to go up against the MacLaren clan at the next church bake off.”

  Gertie crossed her arms, feigning anger. “Don’t you go telling them that, young man. Besides, I always enter my special cake.”

  “And it always wins,” Quinn commented with a smile.

  Emma tapped her fingers on the table, listening to the two banter back and forth, her mother laughing. It felt good to hear it after months of worry over Big Jim. They’d thought he might join them for supper tonight, but he couldn’t navigate the stairs.

  “I’ve been thinking, Mama. Why don’t we make up the downstairs for Papa? Now that Quinn is here, he could help us get him moved. Papa might be able to join us for meals or sit outside if he doesn’t have to worry about the stairs.”

  Quinn nodded. “I can help whenever you’re ready. Getting him outside is a great idea, Emma.” He looked at his empty plate and pushed his chair from the table. “I’ll help with the dishes, then I’m going to get some sleep. The men will be ready to head back out at dawn.”

  “You go on, Quinn. Emma and I will get the dishes.”

  “Mama? Do you mind if I have a word with Quinn first?” Emma stood, ready to follow him outside.

  Quinn’s eyes widened at her request.

  “Go ahead, dear. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Do you have a minute, Quinn?” He nodded, following her into Big Jim’s study. “I can pour you a whiskey if you’d like.”

  “Nae. What I want right now is sleep. But we can talk for a bit if that’s what you want.” Under no circumstances would he talk in private with Emma with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  “Well, um…” She bit her lip, unsure of how to say what she wanted.

  “Lass…just say it.” He turned to face her.

  “It’s about your new colt.”

  “Champion?”

  Emma clasped her hands in front of her and nodded. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I want to buy him.”

  Of everything she could have said, this was the last thing Quinn expected. He thought she’d rail at him for ignoring her most of the day or for warning the men away from her. But Champion?

  “And what would you be needing a colt for? You have Moonshine and a respectable remuda. Champion is for breeding and hard work, not for pleasure.”

  She almost choked on the slight. “Pleasure? Is that what you think I do all day, MacLaren? Ride around picking flowers or shopping in town?”

  He held out his hands, palms toward her. “Ach, settle down, lass. You know that’s not what I meant. But you buying Champion makes no sense unless you’re wanting t
o start breeding horses.”

  She blinked a few times, her lips forming a thin line.

  Quinn’s eyes widened before his gaze sharpened. “Does Big Jim know?”

  Her eyes crinkled in confusion. “Know what?” She gripped her hands together in front of her, forcing herself not to fidget under his scrutiny.

  Cocking his head, his mouth curved up at the corners. “That you want to breed horses?”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Emma, you are the worst liar I’ve ever met. Fact is, you can’t even tell a small fib without your eyes giving you away.” He took a step closer, lifting her chin with his finger. “Tell me. Does Big Jim know?”

  Emma jutted her chin out, shaking her head as she took a step away. “No, and you aren’t going to tell him. I’ve got some money saved, although I’m certain it’s not enough. I was hoping we could make some kind of deal. You tell me your terms and I’ll do all I can to meet them.”

  Without thinking, he inched forward, his face growing somber, his eyes darkening with desire as be bent toward her. “Trust me, sweetheart. You do not want to hear my terms.”

  Emma gasped, sucking a breath. “I…”

  Groaning, he stepped away, his voice hard and tight. “Enough of this talk. I’m in need of sleep, not a conversation with a lass about a horse.” He grabbed his hat from a hook, then turned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She held out her hand, trying to get his attention. “Wait, Quinn.”

  “Nae, Emma. Champion will be the foundation of a solid breeding program. But it will be at Circle M, not here.” He slammed his hat on his head, stomping outside and into the dark.

  Conviction

  “Have you seen Nate this morning?” Brodie slipped into his coat as one of his deputies, Jack Perkins, poured a cup of coffee.

  “Nope. Saw Sam, though. He’s having breakfast over at the Gold Dust Hotel.” Jack scratched his jaw, his brows furrowing. “Now that I think on it, Nate usually has breakfast with him.”

  “As far as you know, both still take rooms at the Gold Dust, right?”

  “Yep. Both are on opposite ends of the second floor.” Jack walked to the back, glancing at the empty cells. “Been quiet around here since those outlaws tried to rob the folks in December. Mrs. Pearce came into town a couple days ago. Stopped by to say Big Jim is doing better. Every time I think of him being shot, I want to kill those three varmints again.”

  “You’re not the only one who feels that way, lad. We’re lucky no one else was shot and Big Jim didn’t die. You did real well that night, Jack.”

  Looking up from his cup of coffee, the young deputy blushed. “Just doing my job, Sheriff.”

  Slipping on his gunbelt, Brodie thought of Quinn. He’d come home for supper and to get more clothes the previous Sunday. After a week at the Pearce ranch, he’d seen a marked improvement in the men’s work and Big Jim’s health. Quinn hadn’t mentioned Emma once.

  “I’m riding to the docks and Chinatown. Stay here while I’m gone.” Brodie opened the door, then stopped. “When Nate comes in, tell him to wait for me. I need to speak with him.”

  “Sure thing, Sheriff. Anything else you want me to do?” Jack jumped up from his seat, setting down his cup, splashing tepid coffee over the sides.

  Brodie chuckled. “Nae. When I get back, I’ll have you do rounds in the north end of town.”

  “You can count on me.”

  Brodie shook his head as he stepped outside. No matter the day, hour, or situation, Jack never lost his enthusiasm. He’d never met anyone like him. Brodie knew how fortunate he was to have him, as well as Sam and Nate.

  Unfortunately, Sam wouldn’t be staying much longer. In a matter of weeks, he would fulfill his obligation to Brodie and head out, moving on to a life away from Conviction. He didn’t look forward to replacing Sam. His intelligence, wit, and even temperament, as well as his experience working for Allen Pinkerton, were invaluable. Finding someone to take over when he left wouldn’t be easy.

  For now, he had to learn what bothered Nate. Brodie didn’t know what to make of the changes in the deputy. Although subtle, he’d witnessed mood swings, bouts of nausea, and occasional confusion. Nate brushed Brodie’s concerns aside, attributing them to lack of sleep and possible food poisoning.

  With the town growing, each deputy focused on a certain area of Conviction, making it a point to know the people and the businesses. Nate now kept track of what went on at the docks and in Chinatown. In preparation for his departure, Sam transitioned the docks to Nate over the last week. More than once, Sam had noticed the same changes in Nate that Brodie witnessed. Today, Brodie hoped to convince the man to visit Doc Vickery.

  “Sheriff? May I have a word with you?”

  Brodie had grabbed Hunter’s reins, preparing to mount, when August Fielder reined to a stop alongside him. An attorney, he also owned blocks of the town, a cattle ranch, and gold mines. In addition, he held a large piece of land in partnership with the MacLaren family, which Brodie assumed would be the topic of their conversation.

  “Good morning, Mr. Fielder. Would you like to talk in the jail?”

  “Actually, there is a new restaurant near the docks I’d like to try if you have the time.”

  “I was just headed in that direction.”

  Mounting, Brodie rode next to August, his gaze shifting, hoping to spot Nate. He’d seen no sign of his deputy by the time they stopped.

  Six tables took up most of the front area of the restaurant, the aroma of Chinese food wafting from the kitchen causing Brodie’s stomach to growl.

  “Sounds as if you’re in need of food as much as I am.” August motioned to the one empty table.

  “Ah, Mr. Fielder. Welcome. Welcome.” A thin, short man walked from behind a counter, a broad smile on his face.

  “Hong Wo, this is Brodie MacLaren, our sheriff.”

  Brodie held out his hand, not recognizing the man he guessed to be in his forties. “Mr. Wo.”

  “Hong Wo, please. Yes, yes. I’ve met your deputy.”

  “Nate Hollis?”

  “The man with one arm.” Hong Wo smiled, although Brodie detected something in his eyes before it quickly disappeared. “I bring you two specials.” He bowed and scurried off without waiting for August to reply.

  Taking seats, Brodie’s gaze followed the man as he rushed into the back, his mind working. After meeting with August, he planned to stay and talk with Hong Wo a bit longer.

  “From what I know, he makes one dish each day. His special.” Leaning forward, August settled his gaze on Brodie, his jovial attitude turning serious. “I won’t waste time. I’ve come to speak with you about the land grant your family and I bought from Juan Estrada.”

  “Aye. I thought that might be the reason.”

  “Good. It makes it easier since you already know what I’m going to ask.” August sat back when Hong Wo approached with two plates overflowing with food.

  “You like these.” Hong Wo smiled, then retreated to the kitchen, returning a moment later with two cups and a pot of tea. “Eat. Eat. I bring you more if you want.” Bowing, he left them to their meal.

  “He’s optimistic. I like that in a man.” August picked up a fork and took a large bite. Chewing, he nodded at Brodie. “Hong Wo is right. I think you’ll like it.”

  Brodie dug in, finishing his in record time, then pushed the plate away.

  “Well, that was superb.” August finished the last of the tea. “Brodie, you’ve done an excellent job as sheriff. You haven’t been doing it a year and we already see considerable improvement.”

  “Aye, Mr. Fielder. You told me the same last week.” He crossed his arms, waiting for August to get to the point of their meeting.

  “True. And, I assure you, nothing has changed. Well, almost nothing. It has come to my attention that Sam Covington may be leaving soon. He’s a good man. The town doesn’t want to lose him.”

  “By town you mean the town council.”

  “Correc
t. At the same time, with the purchase of land from Juan Estrada, the partnership is in dire need of someone with your ranch experience.” August paused a moment. He never would’ve approached Brodie if he hadn’t been a partner with the MacLarens in the additional sixty thousand acres. “You’re a man of many talents, Brodie. Sam, well…he’s suited for one role—enforcing the law.”

  The more August spoke, the more Brodie’s jaw tightened. Yes, he had done a good job as sheriff, bringing in excellent men as deputies. The four of them worked well as a team. He hated to see Sam leave, but what August implied didn’t sit well either.

  “You’re asking me to quit so you can offer the job to Sam.”

  August held up his hands. “I would never ask you to resign. No one knows better than I how much you wanted this job, how much you’ve always wanted to be a lawman.” He took a breath and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m asking you to consider taking on a larger, quite important role in the Fielder/MacLaren partnership. If you do, you’d need to give up the role as sheriff.”

  “And, in your mind, Sam is the logical replacement.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  His father, Ewan, and his uncle, Ian, had already talked to him more than once about moving back. Colin, Blaine, and Quinn, along with the younger MacLarens, were doing well. According to the elders, though, they still needed his skills.

  “You know Sam wants to leave. He has no intention of staying in Conviction longer than necessary to fulfill an obligation he agreed to with me. He’s always planned to return home, maybe even pick up with Pinkerton again.”

  “I’ve heard rumors, yes. It doesn’t change the fact he could change his mind if given the right incentive. And you need to keep in mind the long-term benefits of returning to the ranch. You would be a wealthy man, MacLaren. Beyond what you could ever make as a lawman.”

  Brodie shook his head. “Money isn’t why I do this, or why I’d take any job.”

  “All I’m asking is for you to think about it. Even if you decide to return to the ranch after Sam leaves, we can track him down.” August reached into his pocket, dropping money on the table. “You think about it. Talk to your wife and family.”