Courted by a Cowboy

Marybeth O’Malley is everything rancher Randall Northam seeks in a wife…if she’d only say “I do.” Although his family paid for her train ticket West with the understanding the two would marry, Rand won’t pressure her to set a date. Especially since he suspects she’s learned about his reckless past. Who would want to marry an untamed cowboy like him?

Marybeth won’t marry until she locates her long-lost brother. And when Rand agrees to help her with her search, she can’t deny her surprisingly warm feelings toward her prospective groom. Could this honorable cowboy show her he’s the husband she never knew she wanted?

“I’m glad you’re finally here.” Not the smartest thing to say, but all he could think of.

Marybeth looked startled. Frightened almost. The long trip from Boston must have worn her down. “Where can I find a place to stay?” The way her gaze darted around the room, she reminded him of a rabbit trying to escape a dog pack.

Hadn’t she heard his remark about lodging? Did she see something in him to cause her concern? Rand swallowed hard. If he didn’t have such faith in his parents’ choice, he would think this was all a mistake. Instead of being happy or even interested in being in his company, Marybeth almost seemed afraid.

Then it struck him. She knew. Someone, probably Maisie, had told her the one thing Dad had insisted was Rand’s responsibility to tell her. Now she was frightened of him, and he had no idea how to go about soothing away her fears and assuring her of his constant efforts to live for the Lord.

LOUISE M. GOUGE

has been married to her husband, David, for fifty years. They have four children and eight grandchildren. Louise always had an active imagination, thinking up stories for her friends, classmates and family but seldom writing them down. At a friend’s insistence, she finally began to type up her latest idea. Before trying to find a publisher, Louise returned to college, earning a BA in English/creative writing and a master’s degree in liberal studies. She reworked that first novel based on what she had learned and sold it to a major Christian publisher. Louise then worked in television marketing for a short time before becoming a college English/humanities instructor. She has had fifteen novels published, several of which have earned multiple awards, including the Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award and the Laurel Wreath Award. Please visit her website at blog.louisemgouge.com.

Cowboy Seeks a Bride

Louise M. Gouge

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.

— Psalms 56:3

This book is dedicated to the intrepid pioneers who settled the San Luis Valley of Colorado in the mid to late 1800s. They could not have found a more beautiful place to make their homes than in this vast 7500 ft. high valley situated between the majestic Sangre de Cristo and San Juan Mountain ranges.

It has been many years since I lived in the San Luis Valley, so my thanks go to Pam Williams of Hooper, Colorado, for her extensive on-site research on my behalf. With their permission, I named two of my characters after her and her husband, Charlie. These dear old friends are every bit as kind and wise as their namesakes. I also want to thank my dear husband of fifty years, David Gouge, for his loving support as I pursue my dream of writing love stories to honor the Lord.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

July 1881

Randall Northam is a gambler. Randall Northam is a killer.

The words pulsed through Marybeth O’Brien’s head, keeping time with the clatter of the iron wheels on the railroad track as the train propelled her inescapably toward her prospective husband. Until a few moments ago she’d thought his most notable quality was being the second son of a wealthy Colorado ranching family. But the lively young woman seated across from her had just imparted a vital bit of information Randall Northam’s parents had left out when they’d arranged this marriage. And from the enthusiasm brightening Maisie Henshaw’s face, Marybeth could see her story wasn’t finished.

“Yep, he shot that thieving varmint right in the heart. Why, Rand can outdraw anybody.” The red-haired girl elbowed her handsome young husband in the ribs. “Even me.”

Dr. Henshaw chuckled indulgently, his expression utterly devoid of censure, but rather, exuding only devotion for his wife. “You may have heard stories about how wild the West is, Miss O’Brien, but you will certainly feel safe with Rand protecting you.”

“Just like me protecting you.” Maisie chortled in a decidedly unladylike manner.

Her more refined husband nodded his agreement with a grin. “Well, we all have our talents.”

Marybeth returned a weak smile while gulping down a terror she’d never felt as she’d made her plans to go to Colorado. She’d had some concern, yes. A great deal of doubt, of course. But never fear. In fact, the farther she’d traveled from Boston and the closer to her destination, she’d actually begun to look forward to meeting her prospective husband. If he turned out to be all that his parents and his own letters stated, she would reconsider her lifelong vow never to marry. But this disclosure about her intended changed everything and reaffirmed her determination never to be trapped in a miserable marriage, as her mother had been. She lifted a silent prayer of thanks for this encounter with the Henshaws and for finding out the truth about Mr. Randall Northam before meeting him.

Even as she prayed, guilt teased at the corners of her mind. She’d accepted her train fare from Colonel and Mrs. Northam, arguing with herself that perhaps Randall would turn out to be as kind, handsome and noble as his father, a former Union officer. If so, perhaps she could convince him to postpone the wedding until she found Jimmy. Surely, with two brothers of his own, he would understand her desperate desire to find her only brother who’d fled to Colorado eight long years ago to escape their abusive father. Finding Jimmy would not only reunite her with her only living relative, it would provide a means for her not to marry at all. That was, if Jimmy still had Mam’s silver locket. With the key to a great treasure tucked inside, the locket would mean she could repay the Northams for her train fare.

“Don’t you think so?” Maisie reached across and patted Marybeth’s gloved hand.

“Wha—?” Marybeth felt an unaccustomed blush rush to her cheeks. How rude of her not to pay attention to her companions. “Forgive me. Would you repeat the question?”

“Now, Maisie, dear.” John Henshaw bent his head toward his wife in a sweet, familiar way. “Miss O’Brien must be tired from her travels. We should give her time to rest so she will be at her best when she meets her future husband.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Maisie’s pretty face crinkled with worry. “Would you like a pillow? A blanket?” She nudged her husband and pointed to the bag beneath his seat. “Honey, dig out that pillow I packed.”

“Thank you. You’re too kind.” Marybeth accepted the small cushion, placed it against the window and rested her head, not because she wanted to sleep, but because she needed time to think. Although she hated missing the beautiful mountain scenery as the train descended the western side of La Veta Pass, she closed her eyes to keep Maisie from further talking. Again guilt pinched her conscience. This was no way to treat such kind people.

When they’d first met early this morning, the Henshaws had recognized their social duty to an unattached young woman traveling alone, just as several matrons and couples had all the way from Boston. Due to their protecting presence, Marybeth hadn’t been accosted by a single man on the entire trip, although one well-dressed man in particular had stared at her rather boldly today when the doctor wasn’t looking. He would have been more careful if he’d known Maisie was the one to watch out for. Marybeth wanted to laugh thinking about her new friend being a sharpshooter. If anything, she looked like a perfect lady in her fashionable brown traveling suit and elegant matching hat.

The moment the conductor had escorted her to the seat across from the Henshaws, Marybeth could see they were decent Christian people. Because they lived in the town where she would soon reside, she’d gradually told them more about herself, at last telling them she was Randall Northam’s intended bride. Maisie had hooted with joy, announcing she’d known “Rand” all her life, and his sister, Rosamond, was her best friend. As if unfolding a great yarn, she told Marybeth about Rand’s shoot-out over a card game in a saloon.

A gambler, a killer and, no doubt, a drunkard. This was the man she was expected to marry? Indeed she would not marry him, not in a hundred years.

* * *

Rand checked his pocket watch and then glanced down the railroad line toward Alamosa searching for the telltale black cloud of smoke from the Denver and Rio Grande engine. The wind was up today, so maybe tumbleweed or sand had blown over the tracks, slowing the train. Maybe a tree had fallen somewhere up on La Veta Pass and they’d had to stop to remove it before proceeding down into the San Luis Valley.

Rand chewed his lip and paced the boardwalk outside the small station, his boots thudding against the wood in time with his pounding heart. How much longer must he wait before the train arrived? Before his bride arrived?

He glanced down at his new black boots, dismayed at the unavoidable dust covering the toes. Hoping to look his best for his new bride, he brushed each boot over the back of the opposite pant leg and then wiped a hand over the gray marks that ill-advised action left. So much for looking his best. Where was that train anyway?

“Settle down, Rand.” His younger brother, Tolley, half reclined on the bench set against the station’s dull yellow outside wall. “If the train’s going to be late, Charlie’ll let you know.” He jutted his chin toward the open window above him. Inside, Charlie Williams manned the telegraph, but at the moment no syncopated clickety-click indicated an incoming message. Tolley shook his head and smirked. “Man, if this is what it’s like to get married, I don’t want any part of it. Where’s my cocksure brother today?” He patted the gun strapped to his side, clearly referencing the worst day of Rand’s life.

“Could you just keep quiet about that?” He shot Tolley a cross look. After three years his brother still wouldn’t let him forget the time Rand had been forced to kill a horse thief. Instead of understanding how guilty Rand felt about the incident, Tolley idolized him, even wanted to emulate his gun-fighting skills. “Don’t say anything to Miss O’Brien except ‘how do you do’ and ‘welcome to Esperanza.’ Let me take care of the rest, understand?”

“Yes, boss.” Tolley touched his hat in a mock salute. He glanced down the tracks. “Looks like your wait is over.”

Rand followed his gaze. Sure enough, there came the massive Denver and Rio Grande engine, its black smoke almost invisible in the crosswinds, its cars tucked in a row behind it. Now his pulse pounded in his chest and ears, and his mouth became dry, just as it had before that fateful gunfight. Cocksure? Not in the least. Just able to hide his emotions under stress better than most people. At least most of the time. Today he couldn’t quite subdue his nerves.

The engine chugged to a stop and sent out a blast of gray-white steam from its undercarriage. Porters jumped out, set stools in front of the doors and gave a hand to the disembarking passengers.

“Rand! Hey, Rand.” Emerging from the second passenger car, Maisie Henshaw ignored the porter, practically leaped from the last step and ran toward him. Behind her, Doc Henshaw, toting a valise and his black doctoring bag, stretched out his long legs to keep up with his bride. Rand would never understand how these two very different people had gotten together, but it sure wasn’t any of his business. Besides, anybody could see how happy they were.

Rand hoped his own imminent marriage would be just as happy. That would be an extra blessing on his road to redeeming his past. For three years he’d worked hard to live a perfect life by following every order, every wish of his parents, and taking on more than his share of chores to gain his older brother’s respect. Now, if Miss O’Brien would have him, he would be marrying the young lady his parents had chosen for him. It made him feel as if he’d almost arrived at redemption. Almost.

Maisie dashed up and gave him a sisterly hug. “My, you’re looking handsome. Any special reason you’re all gussied up and out here waiting for the train?” She elbowed Doc in the ribs and chortled.

“Now, honey.” His hands full, Doc gently bumped her shoulder with his own. “Let the man be.”

“All right, all right.” Maisie sniffed in mock annoyance. “But I’m in no hurry to go home.” She marched over to the bench and plunked herself down beside Tolley. “Move over, kid.”

Doc just chuckled at her antics. “Hello, Rand. It’s good to see you.” He sat next to Maisie.

Rand had only a moment to give his impromptu audience a scowl of irritation before their eyes all turned toward the train car. Maisie giggled and Tolley let out a low whistle. Rand followed their gaze. And nearly fell onto the bench beside them.

Slender and of medium height, the young lady had thick auburn hair piled high on her head, with a cute little brown-and-blue hat perched at the summit. Her sandy-colored dress—well, more suit than dress, and trimmed with dark blue bits of ribbon and such—hugged well-formed curves that he wouldn’t let himself dwell on until after they were married. But it was her face that held his attention. Like a classical Roman statue of Venus he’d once seen in a magazine, her elegant beauty was flawless and her porcelain cheeks glowed with a hint of roses. He couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but she’d said in a letter that they were hazel.

Oh, mercy, she’s even more beautiful than her picture. What did I ever do to deserve this prize? Nothing, that’s what. It was all a matter of grace.

Thank You, Lord, for sending me such a lovely bride. That was, if Miss O’Brien would have him once he told her the truth about his past.

* * *

Foolishly putting off the inevitable, Marybeth had offered a silly excuse to the Henshaws for not following them right away. Maisie had teased about her shyness but hadn’t forced the issue. The last passenger in the car, Marybeth had slowly moved toward the door where the conductor had given her a patient smile.

At last she emerged from the darkness, shielding her eyes from both the sun and the wind. A porter offered a hand and helped her to the ground. She pressed a dime—her last one—into his hand for the services he’d so diligently rendered during the trip. “Thank you.”

As he bowed to her, a sharp whistle split the air. She located Maisie seated by the train station and pointing enthusiastically at a tall, broad-shouldered cowboy. He was dressed in a dark green plaid shirt, spotless black trousers and shiny black boots. While she couldn’t see his face due to the broad brim of his light brown hat, his physique was certainly attractive, the sort that girls at her school always gushed over when the matrons weren’t in the room.

Her gaze lit on the gun strapped to his belt and a shudder went through her. In traveling across the country, she’d noticed more than one cowboy wearing a gun. Another traveler had told her the weapons were necessary because of wild animals and maybe even train robbers. Yet how many of those cowboys had killed a man, as this one had?

He strode toward her with a firm gait and her heart pounded with fear...and a very odd thrill. What was wrong with her? She’d never been one to court danger. Indeed, she avoided confrontation at all cost.

“Miss O’Brien?” He tipped his hat to her.

Now she could see his face and her breath left her. When he hadn’t sent a picture, she’d wondered if his looks were not particularly appealing. That was far from the case. In all of her twenty years, she had never seen a more handsome man, from his bright green eyes to his tanned, well-formed cheekbones and slender nose to his attractive, slightly crooked smile that revealed even white teeth. He even smelled good; a woody fragrance she couldn’t quite identify. But it was those eyes, emerald green and reflecting the darker shade of his shirt, that held her attention, that mesmerized her.

“Yes, I’m Marybeth O’Brien.” Her voice squeaked, but he had the good manners not to laugh. “Mr. Northam?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He reached out to take her gloved hand. “Please call me Rand. We mostly go by first names out here. That is, if it’s all right with you.”

At his touch, a hot spark shot up her arm, turning to ice as it reached her neck. She couldn’t stop a shudder, but again he didn’t react. “Yes, that’s fine.” Somehow she managed to say the words. Somehow she managed to keep her knees from buckling.

For countless seconds they stood staring at each other. Marybeth tried to reconcile the idea of this young, incredibly handsome man being a killer, a gambler, a man exactly like her father. That thought shook her loose from her hypnotic state. Hadn’t Da looked every bit the gentleman when he was sober? For the first time in her life she understood how Mam had been swept off her feet and right into a tragic, abusive marriage.

“Well—” She broke away from Rand’s hold. “I have a trunk someplace.” She looked around and spied it being unloaded from the baggage car. “There it is. Shall we?” She took a step in that direction.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rand nonetheless gently touched her upper arm to stop her. “I brought my brother along to take care of that.” He motioned to a younger version of himself. “Tolley, get yourself over here and meet Miss O’Brien... Marybeth, this is my brother Tolley.”

The brothers’ good relationship was evident in the boy’s teasing smirk and overly polite address to her. “How do you do, Miss O’Brien? Welcome to Esperanza.” From his singsong tone, she guessed he’d been coached.

“Very well, thank you, Tolley. I understand first names are the rule here, so please call me Marybeth.” For some reason she felt no fear of him, despite the gun he wore. Did his easy smile and wide-eyed innocence hide a murderous spirit, too?

“Yes, ma’am.” He shot a look at Rand almost as if seeking approval. “I’ll take care of that trunk and see you later.”

“Oh.” Marybeth’s heart sank as he strode away. She’d hoped the boy’s presence would serve as a buffer between her and Rand. She looked up at Rand. “I—I was thinking...”

Again he touched her upper arm. Again a shiver raced up to her neck. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for us to go over to Mrs. Williams’s café for a bite to eat before I take you to your lodgings. That way we can start getting acquainted.”

Marybeth’s stomach answered for her with a slight rumbling. Heat flooded her cheeks. “Oh, dear. I guess you have your answer.”

His smile held no censure. “Good. She has the reputation of being the best cook in Esperanza.”

Marybeth accepted his offered arm—his very muscular arm—and they began their trek down the rutted street toward the center of town. Maybe this was best. She could break with him in public rather than in private. That way, if he was like Da, he wouldn’t dare strike her. Da had always kept the abuse to the privacy of their shabby house so no one would see his true nature. Her only dilemma would be finding a place to stay afterward. Maybe that Mrs. Williams would help her. Maybe someone would. One thing was certain. Dr. and Mrs. Henshaw would be no help. From the admiring looks on their faces, it was obvious they thought Rand was nothing short of a hero.

* * *

Feeling the warmth of Marybeth’s hand on his arm, smelling the fragrance of her lavender perfume, Rand adjusted his usual long stride to suit her shorter one. She had a dainty way about her that filled him with admiration. Most young ladies he knew tended to have a sturdier manner, although few were as tomboyish as Maisie and her sisters. He’d have to take particular care of this little gal until she became accustomed to Western ways. Pampering her would be his new favorite activity.

People along the street acknowledged him with a nod, a tipped hat or a wave, but no one interrupted their journey to the café. He knew they’d gossip about Marybeth and him, just as they had Nate and Susanna when his older brother was courting the Southern belle. He hoped their respect for the Northam name would inspire townsfolk to give him a wide berth so he and his prospective bride could get acquainted.

Prospective bride. That was how he’d thought of Marybeth ever since Mother had first written to him about her six months ago. Now that she was by his side, he was pretty close to dispensing with the “prospective” part. With his parents and sister extolling her character in their letters and saying they all agreed she was just the right gal to suit him, he felt as if he already knew her. They’d also written to say she would help to bring that element of refinement Dad hoped to add to the community.

Marybeth’s letters had informed him that she liked music, liked to read, enjoyed cooking and housekeeping; the usual feminine qualities to make a man eager to go home at the end of the day. Her beauty was just a bonus. Not that he deserved any of it, of course. But maybe this was another example of God’s grace toward an unworthy sinner.

“Here we are.” He steered her toward Williams’s Café and swung the door inward to let her enter first. The aroma of simmering chicken and freshly baked bread poured over them, whetting his appetite.

Before stepping over the threshold, Marybeth gave him a tremulous smile, causing his heart to bounce around inside his chest. The sweet little thing was skittish, bless her heart. Of course, he felt a bit nervous, too. Maybe by the time they finished dinner, they’d feel more comfortable with each other. Sharing a meal could have that effect on a person.

“Hello, Rand.” Mrs. Williams, proprietor and chief cook, gave him a wave from the kitchen door. “Take any seat you like.”

“Thanks, Miss Pam. Come over and meet my...meet Miss O’Brien.” Stopping short of calling Marybeth his bride, Rand paused to hang his hat on the wall peg. He led her to a table beside the wide front window where both of them would be able to watch the passersby. It was also far enough away from the half dozen other customers to keep their conversation fairly private.

“Welcome to Esperanza, honey.” Miss Pam walked across the recently enlarged dining room and held a floured hand out to Marybeth. Seeming to think better of it, she brushed the hand on her white apron and chuckled. “Oops. I just finished making dumplings to go with the stewed chicken, so let’s not get any flour on those nice gloves.”

“How do you do, Miss Pam?” Her smile warm and friendly, Marybeth seemed to catch on real quick to the casual way things were done out here, another attractive quality in Rand’s mind. “Chicken and dumplings sounds wonderful.”

“Miss Pam’s are the best,” Rand said. “Make that two.”

“Coming right up.” Miss Pam signaled Lucy, her waitress, before returning to her kitchen.

Lucy took their order for coffee. When she brought it, she gave Rand a surreptitious wink and then went about serving the other customers. Rand doubted the wink held any other meaning than teasing because Lucy and his best friend, Seamus, were courting.

As Marybeth removed her tan kid gloves, she glanced around the room and out the window, her shyness apparent. Rand gently captured one hand across the narrow table, hoping to likewise capture her gaze. Her long, slender fingers felt just right in his grasp, except for the tiny tremor in them. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re finally here.” Not the smartest thing to say, but all he could think of.

She looked startled. Frightened almost. The long trip from Boston must have worn her down. “Where can I find a place to stay?” The way her gaze darted around the room, she reminded him of a rabbit trying to escape a dog pack.

Hadn’t she heard his remark about lodging? Did she see something in him to cause her concern? Rand swallowed hard. If he didn’t have such faith in his parents’ choice, he would think this was all a mistake. Instead of being happy or even interested in being in his company, Marybeth almost seemed afraid.

Then it struck him. She knew. Someone, probably Maisie, had told her the one thing Dad had insisted was Rand’s responsibility to tell her. Now she was frightened of him, and he had no idea how to go about soothing away her fears and assuring her of his constant efforts to live for the Lord.

* * *

There it was, the tiny hardening in Rand’s expression that signaled the beginning of his anger. Oh, he’d find a way to cover it until they were alone. Then she’d pay. Just as Mam never knew exactly what had displeased Da, Marybeth had no idea what she’d done to anger Rand. Now his perfectly formed face was lined with a winsome sort of sadness, just like Da when he sobered up and felt ashamed for his brutality.

Rand cleared his throat. “We planned to have you stay with my brother and his wife, but Susanna’s expecting her second— Uh-oh, sorry. Maybe where you come from, folks don’t talk about such things.”

Marybeth hid her surprise at his comment. Indeed, such matters were never discussed at Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy. However, in the lower class neighborhood where she’d grown up, people never held back when discussing the hows and whys of childbirth. Rand’s concern for her sensibilities spoke well of him. It was a quality more in keeping with the man his parents had recommended to her so highly.

“I certainly understand why Susanna doesn’t need company right now.” She offered a little shrug to indicate a lack of concern, just the opposite of what she felt. Being in another woman’s house could provide protection. “Perhaps a hotel?” She would have to take a job to pay for it, but she’d planned to do so anyway. Her purse was empty, and traveling to Wagon Wheel Gap to search for her brother, Jimmy, would require another season of earning the funds to do so.

“Another uh-oh.” He smiled and grimaced at the same time, a wickedly attractive expression. Oh, Lord, guard my heart against this man’s charms. “We don’t have a hotel. My father plans to bring in a hotelier from back East, maybe even England. He’s working on that and a lot of other things to build up the town. Of course that doesn’t help us right now.”

Before alarm could take hold of Marybeth, Lucy arrived with two bowls of steaming chicken and dumplings. Once again Rand took her hand. This time he bowed his head and lifted a short, sincere-sounding prayer of thanks for the food. Emotion churned through Marybeth’s chest like a roiling sea. Da had prayed, too. Magnificent prayers in his lilting Irish brogue, prayers God would surely hear for their beauty. Yet he never changed, never improved his ways. She set aside the memories but would never permit herself to forget them, lest she end up like Mam.

“Can I bring you anything else?” The waitress gave Rand a simpering smile at odds with her tomboyish swagger. She was flirting with him, but from his friendly, “No, thank you,” Marybeth could see he was oblivious to her attempts to get his attention. An odd sort of jealousy smote Marybeth. No, that was just silly. Not jealousy at all. Simply an awareness of the girl’s bad manners in flirting with a man when he was in the company of another woman.

They wordlessly began to eat and Marybeth’s appetite roared into command. If not for the two years spent at Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy, paid for by the ladies of her Boston church, she would shovel the delicious food into her mouth just as she had as a child.

“About where you’re going to stay...” Lifting the shaker next to the salt, Rand added a healthy dash of pepper to his dinner. “Mrs. Foster is the local piano teacher and church organist, and she’s got an extra room. She’ll be mighty glad for the company because her husband died last year and she’s still at loose ends. She’s an older lady and a bit talkative, but kind as can be. I hope that meets with your approval.”

The doubt and apology in his voice, along with his sorrowful wince as he mentioned the husband’s death, gave Marybeth pause. He possessed all the outward trappings of a gentle, thoughtful man. But so had Da.

“It’s very kind of you to arrange that, Rand.” She offered a polite smile that hid her relief over not having to worry about lodging.

Confusion clouded his expression. “Did you think I wouldn’t find proper lodging for you?” His tone held a note of injury.

“W-well.” Her chest tightened into a familiar knot. Had she touched a nerve? Was he angry? “No, of course not. I mean, yes, of course you would.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Now that I think of it, when we were writing, I don’t believe we addressed the topic of where you would stay.” He gave his head a little shake. “An unfortunate oversight.”

“Yes, that’s it.” The knot in her chest eased. “Just an oversight.”

They’d almost finished their meal, so she’d best tackle the difficult subject hanging over them. That way, if he became angry, she could look for help. Perhaps Miss Pam. Or the plump older couple seated at a table in the corner. No, they were leaving. In fact, they were coming this way.

“Howdy, Rand.” The man clapped him on the shoulder. “Who’s this pretty newcomer?”

Rand introduced Marybeth to the Archers and said they lived south of town in the Bowen community.

“You’ve got yourself a fine catch, missy,” said the woman. “Lots of girls around here have tried to lasso this boy since the day he first started shaving.”

While the Archers laughed, Rand rolled his eyes in a charming way. “You folks have a nice day.”

They took their dismissal in good humor and left. Once again the situation gave Marybeth pause. They obviously didn’t fear Rand. Miss Pam and Lucy didn’t, either. When had Marybeth decided he was her father come back to life? Maybe she didn’t have to be afraid of him. Maybe she should dismiss her fears and give him a chance to prove himself.

“Are you ready to go?” Rand started to push back from the table.

“No.” Trying to gather her thoughts, Marybeth took another sip of coffee.

“Oh.” Rand settled back down. “You want dessert? Apple pie? Or Miss Pam’s special elderberry pie?”

His sudden eagerness to please made Marybeth want to laugh, but what she must tell him was too serious for her to indulge in any such levity.

“No, thank you.” She glanced out the window, where people walked to and fro on their daily errands. On the way here, she’d noticed many people giving Rand friendly waves. Like Miss Pam and Lucy, every single one appeared to admire him. Still, she must proceed with caution. “I have to tell you something.” She lifted her coffee cup for another bracing sip.

“I was afraid of that.” His face fell and his shoulders drooped with disappointment. “You won’t marry me because I’m too ugly. There was a reason I didn’t send a picture, you know.”

Marybeth almost spewed coffee all over him, barely catching the liquid before it escaped her lips. Now she could see the mischief in his eyes that bespoke an awareness of his good looks without being excessively prideful, a rare quality. Most handsome men of her acquaintance strutted about, clearly proud of their appearance.

Once she regained her composure, she shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that.”

“Ah.” The humor left his face but a gentle twinkle remained in his eyes. “Go on. You can tell me anything.”

She would take him at his word, at least for now. Borrowing from her Irish legacy of masterful storytelling, she wove the “sad but true tale” of her family, punctuating it with a few well-placed tears and carefully leaving out several details. Eight years before, when her brother was only fifteen, he’d been beaten up by neighborhood bullies. Da had called him a coward for not standing up to the thugs, so Jimmy had left home and never come back. He’d written only one letter a year or so later, posting it from Del Norte, Colorado, and saying he was headed to Wagon Wheel Gap to do some silver prospecting. Now that their parents had died, the mention of which brought genuine tears to her eyes, at least for Mam, she knew she had to search for her only living relative before she settled down.

At this point she batted her eyes, sending a few tears down her cheeks, and then dabbed at them with a handkerchief and gave Rand a look that pleaded for understanding.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad and brother not getting along.” He shook his head and stared off with a thoughtful look. “Describe your brother to me.”

Marybeth started. Could it be this simple? Was it possible that Rand knew him? “His name is Jimmy O’Brien.” She couldn’t keep the eagerness from her voice. “I haven’t seen him since I was twelve years old. He was just a couple of inches taller than I was, so he may be about five feet, five inches now, if he takes after our father. He has red hair and hazel eyes.” She searched her memory for other details, but none came to mind. She certainly would not mention Mam’s silver locket, which she’d given him to keep Da from pawning it to buy liquor. Marybeth laughed softly. “And, as if you haven’t already figured out, he’s Irish.”

Rand’s frown of concentration intensified. “Does he speak with a brogue?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We both worked hard to get rid of it so we could get better jobs.” She had worked especially hard to speak without the brogue, hoping to find employment as a servant in an upper-class home, something a rich rancher couldn’t possibly understand. “He did pretty well, and the ladies at my church were so impressed by my efforts that they sent me to Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy, where I met Rosamond.” She bit her lip, hoping she didn’t sound proud, wondering how much further to go. “I learned deportment, but I also learned typing and accounting skills.” In her letters she’d mentioned the academy but not the training in office work.

“Typing.” He scratched his head. “I’ve heard about those typewriting machines but haven’t ever seen one. I did receive a letter written on one. Makes a real nice page, just like printing in a book.”

She beamed a smile at him, encouraged that he didn’t seem the least bit angry. “Yes. I’m hoping to find work, perhaps in a bank or for a lawyer.”

“Work?” Now he frowned again, but still without anger. “But I’m responsible for your care. I’ve made arrangements with Mrs. Foster on the condition you would agree to live there until our wedding.” His eyes narrowed. “Marybeth, please assure me that you didn’t take advantage of my parents’ kindness just so they would pay your train fare so you could find your brother.”

“N-no, not at all.” Yes. At least partly yes. “Please recall the part of our agreement stating that either of us has the right to cancel our wedding if we’re not compatible.”

“And in just forty-five minutes, you’ve decided we’re not compatible?” The edge in his voice sent a shiver through her middle. “Seems you’ve already made up your mind.” He raised his hand as if he wanted to hit something, and Marybeth prepared to duck. Instead he waved off the gesture and stared glumly out of the window.

To her surprise, instead of being angry he seemed wounded, even depressed, so much so that she felt sorry for him.

Could it be that he wasn’t like Da at all? Could she trust him to help her find Jimmy? Despite being a gambler and gunfighter, maybe he had a core of decency she could learn to trust. But how could she really know for certain?

* * *

Rand wished he hadn’t raised his hand that dismissive way, as he always did to show gunslingers that he wasn’t planning to fight them, for the gesture appeared to have scared Marybeth. He turned to stare out the window to watch the traffic in the street. She hadn’t even given him a chance. Maybe hadn’t even intended to try. So much for his parents’ and sister’s harebrained idea of finding him a proper Christian lady to marry. He should have just married one of those nice girls who lived down in Bowen. There sure were enough of them to choose from. But Dad had wanted to bring fresh blood into Esperanza; ladies with fine manners like Mother’s to help some of the wilder gals like Maisie improve their ways.

Thoughts of Mother always stopped him short. He raised a familiar silent prayer that the doctors at the Boston hospital would be able to find out what caused her breathing problems. Dad had been so anxious about her health that he’d left Esperanza, the community he’d spent the past thirteen years building, the town that looked to him for guidance for every important decision they made. Yet Dad had willingly made the trip back East for Mother’s sake. Rand longed for that same kind of marriage, where the most important thing was to take care of one another, no matter what the personal cost might be.

His folks had taken his sister, Rosamond, along to enroll her in the Boston finishing school Mother had attended as a young girl. There they’d met Marybeth, and Mother had decided she was the perfect young lady for Rand. Until today he hadn’t cared much about those fine manners Dad insisted the local girls needed to learn. But after meeting Marybeth, he couldn’t imagine marrying one of those cowgirls he’d grown up with. Still, he was beginning to wonder how his folks could have been so mistaken about Marybeth. Couldn’t they see she’d had another plan all along?

Rand had made a few plans of his own. He’d envisioned someone who could grow a kitchen garden and a family and give him a little intellectual companionship on cold Colorado evenings. If he’d just married one of the gals who always smiled so sweetly at him in church, he wouldn’t be sitting here feeling like a complete fool. But he also wouldn’t have a bride who could talk about something other than the price of cattle or how the weather affected the crops.

Probably intent on listening to their conversation, Lucy sidled up next to him and gave his shoulder a sisterly nudge with her elbow as she held out the coffeepot.

“You must be missing Seamus.” He held his cup while she poured.

Lucy shrugged. “If you see him, tell him I do miss him.” She sniffed. “Don’t know why he has to be the one up in the hills with all them cattle all summer long. I don’t have nothing to do on my days off.”

Rand gave her a sympathetic smile. “He’s the trail boss because he’s the best man for the job. You can be proud of him for that.”

“Humph. And what am I supposed to do while he’s out there?” Lucy poured coffee for Marybeth and then took Rand’s empty plate in her free hand. With a swish of her skirt that brushed fabric against his forearm, she headed back toward the kitchen.

Eyeing Lucy with a hint of disapproval, Marybeth put two lumps of sugar and a dash of cream in her cup, stirred and lifted the drink to her lips. Her graceful hands looked like white porcelain and her little fingers posed in refined arches as she held the cup. Beautiful, elegant hands, but not hands for a rancher’s wife. What had his folks been thinking? This young lady was entirely too genteel.

Or maybe as she’d traveled farther west, she’d realized what she’d gotten herself into. Too bad he couldn’t blame Maisie for this turn of events, but that wouldn’t be fair. Even if she spilled the whole story, with her upbringing as a rancher’s daughter, of course she’d be proud of his killing a horse thief.

Well, one thing was sure. With Marybeth making it clear they wouldn’t be getting married anytime soon, if at all, he could postpone telling her about the fatal gunfight. He had no doubt Maisie had blabbed the story, so when they did get around to talking about it, he would have to reassure Marybeth that he wasn’t proud of killing a man, no matter what other people thought. On the other hand, he was still responsible for her since she’d come all this way to meet him. Best get this all figured out.

“Now about that job you mentioned, how do you plan on getting it?” He couldn’t keep the rancor out of his voice.

She lifted her chin and gazed down her pretty little nose at him. “As I said, I plan to work for a lawyer or in the bank.” She blinked in a charming, innocent way. “You do have a bank, don’t you? I thought I saw one on our way here.”

“Yes, we have a bank. But everybody knows that’s a man’s job. Besides, what makes you think Mr. Means is going to hire you?” Rand felt justified being a little cross. Not only was Nolan Means young, wealthy and good-looking, he kept trying to finagle his way into community leadership, something the Northam family carefully controlled to keep out unsavory elements.

Marybeth’s hazel eyes flashed at his challenge. “I will have you know I am very good with accounts. Not only that, but with my typewriting ability, I will be a great asset. If Mr....Mr. Means, is it? If he doesn’t need an accountant or secretary, I am certain some businessman in this growing town will be happy to employ someone with my skills.”

Rand gazed at her, admiration mingled with annoyance. The girl had spirit, that was certain. But as he watched her, something else became evident in her bright hazel eyes—a look he’d seen in green gamblers who just realized they’d gotten themselves into a game with seasoned cardsharps. She had a secret, one that scared her. Why on earth did she think coming out West would solve her problems? But here she was, and despite her postponement—maybe even her cancellation—of the wedding, he had every intention of sticking to his plans to take care of her. A Christian man always kept his word, always saw to his responsibilities.

Bolstered with that thought, Rand scratched behind his ear and gave Marybeth one of his best “aw shucks” grins. “Well, Marybeth, I wish you all the best. And I will pray for your success.”

Her eyes widened and she seemed to struggle a moment before answering. “Why, thank you, Rand. How very kind.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been praying for you since last January when Mother first wrote to me about you.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her coffee cup. “Thank you.”

He frowned. She seemed confused by his mention of prayer. Yet Mother had assured him she was a Christian. A real one, not someone who just went through the motions in church. Maybe she’d fooled them all. That meant he had more than one responsibility for this little gal. He had to take care of her and get her saved. He would take her to church every Sunday and let her hear some of Reverend Thomas’s fine sermons. If he’d listened to those sermons when he should have, he’d never have killed a man, no matter how threatened he’d felt.

Another thing he could do for Marybeth was to write to the sheriff in Wagon Wheel Gap to see if he’d come across a man matching Jimmy O’Brien’s description. Maybe if Rand found her brother, she’d forget working and decide to settle down with him. On the other hand, he needed to find out what she was hiding before he could marry her. That was quite a quandary, one the Lord would have to sort out.

“If you’re done with your coffee, I’ll take you over to Mrs. Foster’s. She’ll put you up until—” He shook his head. No longer could he think until the wedding. “Until you get things worked out.”

He stood, pulled a half dollar out of his pocket and dropped it on the table to pay for their dinner, adding a nickel for Lucy’s tip. When Marybeth continued to stare at him with some sort of unreadable expression, he sighed as he snagged his hat off of the peg.

“I guess I should ask if that’s all right with you.”

She gave him a tentative smile and her eyes seemed to glisten. “Yes, it’s fine. Thank you. You’re very kind, considering...”

Rand ducked his head to put on his hat and to hide a grin. Her eyes held that secretive look again, but this time with even more uncertainty. Maybe he had a chance with this pretty little lady, after all. And maybe his older brother could offer some tips on how to win a gal determined not to like him.

Chapter Two

“Shall we go?” Rand held out his arm and Marybeth set a hand on it.

Once again she could feel his muscles rippling through his fine cotton shirt. How nice it would be to depend upon such a strong man. But Da had also been strong before his final drink-induced illness, and his excellent physique had housed a deceitful soul. In fact, Marybeth had met few men, sturdy or weak, who kept their word. Was Jimmy any different, or had he become like Da? She’d prayed for years he hadn’t fallen into such sinful ways, but she didn’t hold out too much hope. After all, the American West was known for its lawlessness. Maybe Jimmy had chosen that path.

Even if he had, she was determined to find him and make him hand over the silver locket. Mam had told her it contained the key to a treasure that would take care of Marybeth all her life. Although Jimmy probably didn’t know what lay hidden behind the tintype picture of their family, the locket still belonged to Marybeth. Of course she would share the fortune with him. Too bad Mam hadn’t claimed the treasure herself and used it to escape Da and his abuse. Knowing him, he would have found her and forced her to turn over the money so he could gamble it away or use it in one of his get-rich schemes that always failed. The man had never known how to tell the truth or make a wise decision, other than marrying a good woman like Mam.

“It’s not far, just six blocks.” Rand glanced down at her high-top shoes, already covered with dust from the unpaved street. “But we can get a buggy if it’s too far for you to walk.”

His thoughtful gesture threatened to weaken her, so Marybeth forced her defenses back in place. “The wind has died down and it’s a lovely day. Let’s walk.” She punctuated her cheerful tone with a bright smile. “Besides, Boston’s a very hilly city and I walked everywhere there. This flat town is no challenge.”

He chuckled—a pleasant, throaty sound. “If you’re used to hills, I’ll have to take you up in the mountains for a hike. That sure would challenge you.” His teasing tone was accompanied by quick grin before a frown darted over his tanned face. “Of course we’d take a suitable chaperone.” His hastily spoken addition showed once again his eagerness to please her.

Oh, how she longed to trust him. Yet how could she dare to when he hadn’t even told her about that deadly gunfight Maisie was so proud of? When Marybeth spoke of delaying their marriage, his hurt feelings and disappointment had been obvious. Shouldn’t he have bragged about the killing, assuming she’d regard him as a hero and change her mind? She’d been honest with him about her family, at least as close to honest as she’d dared to be, but he was hiding a very significant happening in his life.

“This is the street.”

Rand steered her down a row of attractive two-story houses, several of which rivaled some of Boston’s finer clapboard homes. One redbrick structure reminded her of Boston’s older Federal-style mansions. Numerous houses were in varying stages of completion, adding to the picture of the growing community about which Colonel and Mrs. Northam had told Marybeth. Young cottonwood and elm trees lined the street, and several fenced-in yards boasted a variety of shrubbery and colorful flowers in the last blooms of summer.

“What a pretty town.” Her words came out on a sigh.

“We like it.” Rand smiled his appreciation of her compliment, and her heart lifted unexpectedly.

Peace hung in the air like a warm mantle, belying the town’s Wild West location. Maybe Esperanza would be a good place to call home after she found Jimmy. It all depended upon the people and whether or not she fit into the community.

“Here’s Mrs. Foster’s house.” Rand indicated a pretty brown house with a white picket fence, a stone foundation, a wide front porch whose roof was supported by slender columns, and gabled windows jutting out from the second floor.

A slender, gray-haired woman with a slightly bent posture bustled out of the front door. “Oh, here you are at last. Welcome, welcome.” She descended the steps, holding the railing beside them, and pulled Marybeth into a warm embrace. “I’m so glad to meet you, Miss O’Brien. Welcome to Esperanza. Welcome to my home.”

Tears flooded Marybeth’s eyes. She hadn’t been held in a maternal embrace in the four long years since Mam died, and oh, how she’d missed it. No formal introduction could have moved Marybeth as this lady’s greeting did. She obviously possessed an open heart and generous spirit, just like some of the older ladies at her Boston church. “I’m so pleased to meet you, too, Mrs. Foster.”

“Hello, Rand.” The lady embraced him briefly and then looped an arm in Marybeth’s and propelled her toward the stairs. “Come along, my dear. Tolley brought your trunk and carried it up to your room. If you need help unpacking, I’ll be happy to assist you.”

“Thank you.” Marybeth glanced over her shoulder. Da never let Mam have friends, but Rand seemed pleased by Mrs. Foster’s warm welcome.

Inside the cozy, well-furnished parlor, Mrs. Foster seated Marybeth on a comfortable green-brocade settee, waving Rand to the spot beside her. “You two sit right here, and I’ll bring tea.” She left the room humming.

“I sure am glad to see her so happy.” Rand had removed his hat and placed it on a nearby chair. He brushed a hand through his dark brown hair and smoothed out the hat line. “She’s been grieving for a long time. Probably will for the rest of her life.” The hint of emotion in his voice revealed genuine compassion. “Having you stay here will be good for her.”

Marybeth could not discern any ulterior motive in his words or demeanor. Once again she was confounded. Why would a gunslinger care about an old widow? “I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.” She eyed the piano. “That’s a beautiful instrument. Do you suppose she would let me play it?” When Da wasn’t around, Mam had taught Marybeth to play, using the piano in a neighborhood church. She’d gone to practice as often as she could, first to escape Da’s anger, later for the sheer enjoyment of playing.

“I think she’d be pleased to hear you.” Rand moved a hand closer to Marybeth’s but pulled it back before he made contact, apparently rethinking the gesture. “I’d like to hear you play, too.”

The intensity of his gaze stirred an unfamiliar sensation in her chest. Was it admiration? Oddly, traitorously, she hoped he did admire her. What girl didn’t want to be appreciated?

“Well, I’d need to practice first. It’s been a while since I played.”

He seemed about to respond, but Mrs. Foster entered the room carrying a black-lacquered tray filled with all the necessities for a lovely tea. Rand stood, as any true gentleman would, until Mrs. Foster reclaimed her seat.

“Oh, my.” He looked hungrily at the cake, the look every cook hoped for. “It’s a good thing we didn’t have any dessert at the café.”

“The café!” Mrs. Foster blustered in an amiable way. “Why, I can outcook that Pam Williams any day.” She raised her dark gray eyebrows and stared at Rand expectantly.

“Now, Mrs. Foster.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “There’s a reason I never volunteer to judge the Harvest Home baking contest or any other one. As a bachelor, I don’t want to get in trouble with any of the many fine cooks we’re so fortunate to have here in Esperanza. You don’t know how much we depend on your good graces to have a decent meal from time to time.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Marybeth and she bit back a laugh. It was their first moment of camaraderie, and it felt...right. Very much so. Oh, Lord, hold on to my heart. Please don’t let me fall in love with this man.

* * *

“Humph.” Mrs. Foster poured tea and passed it to her guests. If Rand weren’t so used to Mother’s Wedgwood china, he’d worry about breaking the delicate cup that was too small for his large hands.

Mrs. Foster served the cake and then focused on Rand. “Well, young man, you won’t be a bachelor for much longer. Have you chosen your wedding date?”

He did his best not to choke on his tea. Mrs. Foster’s question was understandable, but he hadn’t had time to figure out how to tell folks the wedding was off. Besides, his family should hear it first and from him. The way gossip both good and bad traveled through the community, he’d get home and find out Nate and Susanna had heard all about the “postponed” wedding.

“I’m sure everyone knows how much planning a wedding requires.” Marybeth sipped from her cup. “In fact, Maisie Henshaw tells me the church is planning to build an addition right after harvest, one that would accommodate large parties such as wedding receptions.” She took a bite of cake. “Oh, my, this certainly is an award-winning recipe.”

The smile she gave Mrs. Foster was utterly guileless, but Rand’s chest tightened. Marybeth hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t told the whole truth, either. Of course, he still had some truth-telling to do, as well, so he mustn’t judge her too harshly.

He noticed that Mrs. Foster’s eyes narrowed briefly, as though maybe she hadn’t been fooled by Marybeth’s little diversion from answering the question. She didn’t comment, however, just took a bite of cake. Food always provided a handy excuse for not saying something. Rand often used that ploy himself.

They passed several more minutes trading mundane information, as folks do when first meeting. Rand already knew everything Marybeth told Mrs. Foster, because she’d written it all in her letters. Too bad she hadn’t felt inclined to warn him about her plans to postpone the wedding until she found her brother. Guilt smote him again. He should have written to her about the gunfight. Should have anticipated someone else bringing it up. He couldn’t get over the idea that she already knew and that Maisie had told her. But what exactly did she know? What did she really think? These were things they needed to settle between the two of them, so he sure couldn’t ask her those questions in front of Mrs. Foster. The dear old lady never hesitated to give her opinion on any topic under discussion.

Marybeth seemed weary from her travels, so Rand took his leave, promising to visit the next day.

As he walked toward town to see if Tolley was still around, a dull ache settled into his chest, replacing the growing joy he’d felt for weeks in anticipation of meeting and marrying Marybeth. This was no more than he deserved. What lady from back East would understand what he’d done? He didn’t even understand it himself. Only his friends and neighbors proclaimed him a hero; only his younger brother wanted to copy his actions. He hated every memory of that fateful day and all he’d done that led up to it.

Shoving away those thoughts, he started his search for Tolley at Mrs. Winsted’s general store. He remembered to pick up a packet of cumin and spool of white thread his sister-in-law, Susanna, had asked for, but didn’t find his brother. Back out in the sunshine, he headed toward the livery and caught Tolley leading his saddled horse out of the stable.

“Say, shouldn’t you be over at Mrs. Foster’s wooing your pretty little bride-to-be?” Tolley’s impish expression made Rand want to tweak his nose, as he used to when they were scrappy little boys.

“She’s pretty tired from her travels.” Rand tried to sound cheerful so Tolley wouldn’t ask any more questions. “Did you order the rope from the hardware store?”

Tolley chortled. “Don’t change the subject. Tell me—”

“Northam!” A well-dressed, black-clad man, gun strapped to his leg, stepped off the boardwalk and strode toward them. “Randall Northam.”

Rand felt his dinner and Mrs. Foster’s cake rise up in his gullet. Another gunslinger out to prove himself. Didn’t he know better than to face two men? Tolley might be young and hotheaded, but he was a fast-drawing crack shot. Lord, please don’t let my brother get shot.

He sighed. “I’m Randall Northam. What can I do for you, Mr.—?”

A sly smile crept across the man’s face but his eyes remained as cold and deadly as a rattlesnake’s. And surprisingly familiar. “Name’s Hardison. Dathan Hardison. I believe you met my cousin Cole Lyndon about three years ago.”

Rand went cold all over. Frozen cold in spite of the sunshine beaming down on his shoulders and the warm summer breeze fanning over him. If the man drew on him, he wouldn’t be able to get his hand halfway to his holster. Somehow he managed to keep all emotion out of his face, a seasoned gambler’s ploy. Except he wasn’t a gambler. Not anymore. Nor was he a gunfighter, despite the gun at his side. But what could he say to the kin of the man he’d killed? Lord, help me.

“Yes, I ‘met’ Cole Lyndon. I’m sorry to say it was an unfortunate meeting.” On the other hand, the no-good horse thief had robbed and beaten Susanna’s father, leaving him for dead. The sheriff in Del Norte had said Cole had left a string of robberies and murders behind him. But no matter how often his friends called Rand a hero for outdrawing the wicked man, he’d never aspired to be an executioner. Never aspired to have every gunslinger from Montana to El Paso come gunning for him, risking his family and his town. So far he’d been able to talk himself out of another fight with humor or appeals to their better nature, even making a few friends of those who’d intended to face off with him. But revenge for injury to a man’s family was entirely different. Trouble was, Rand knew he’d take it badly if anyone hurt Nate or Tolley. Especially Tolley, whose heavy breathing gave evidence of his rising temper.

“Unfortunate meeting. Is that what you call it?” Hardison’s deadly cold tone hinted at imminent repayment for Rand’s crime. The man glanced over his shoulder toward the Friday-afternoon crowds meandering along Main Street. He rolled his head and gave an unpleasant laugh. “Just wanted to let you know I’m in town.” He slowly reached up to touch the brim of his hat in a mock salute, made as if to turn away and instead turned back. “Speaking of meeting, I almost had the pleasure of meeting a certain young lady from Boston on the train, but that sissified doctor and his cowgirl wife were playing nursemaid. I’ll be looking for an opportunity to introduce myself to her.”

Despite the horrifying pictures Hardison’s words conjured, despite the sick feeling in Rand’s gut, he sent up a prayer for grace. If this man hurt Marybeth... No, he wouldn’t let Hardison rile him. “You’ll find your sort of woman farther west, Hardison. Why don’t you get back on the train tomorrow and head that way?”

He snorted and gave Rand a nasty grin. “Watch your back, Northam. We’ll meet again.”

“Yeah, well, you’d just better watch your back, mister.” Tolley stepped slightly in front of Rand, his right hand poised to draw. “Why don’t we settle this here and now?”

“Now, now, young’un.” Hardison carelessly spat on the ground, but his right hand twitched. “Why don’t you go home to Mama and let the men handle this?”

“Forget it, Tolley. Don’t answer him.” Rand half faced his brother but kept one eye on the gunslinger. “Don’t say another word.” He recognized the signs. Hardison had no plan to draw. At least not now. Part of his fun was stalking his prey to make them nervous.

“I’ll be seeing you.” Again Hardison touched the brim of his hat, turned his back on them and strode away.

“Why didn’t you take him down?” Tolley pulled off his hat and slapped it against his leg, causing his horse to sidestep in alarm. “You’re going to have to sooner or later.”

“No.” Rand gripped his brother’s shoulder. “I made a deal with the Lord that I won’t kill another man like I did Cole Lyndon.” He’d do whatever was needed to protect his family and Marybeth, but never again would he kill someone to save his own life. Never again would he stare into the eyes of a man on his way to eternity, hopeless and without Jesus Christ because of him.

“Well, I didn’t make that deal.” Tolley glared after Hardison.

Rand swallowed hard as fear from his little brother gripped his belly. Why couldn’t Tolley understand? He’d told him all about his guilt, about the horror he’d faced watching a man die by his hand. And now here was another consequence of his actions. Tolley just might get himself killed copying what Rand had done, maybe trying to protect him. No matter what it took, Rand had to keep his little brother—and Marybeth—out of trouble.

Chapter Three

Halting, discordant notes of piano music invaded Marybeth’s senses and pulled her from a dreamless sleep. Mrs. Foster had said some of her students would have their lessons this afternoon, and this one clearly was a beginner.

Before Marybeth had lain down in the four-poster guest bed, her thoughtful hostess had brought a pitcher of hot water, but she’d been too tired to wash. Now, despite the tepid water, she freshened up from her travels, at least well enough to hold her until the promised Saturday-night bath. Her ablutions complete, she brushed the dust from her hair and wound it back into an upswept coiffure.

Still mellow from her nap, she studied her appearance in the dressing-table mirror, recalling with pleasure the way Rand had looked at her, how his gaze had lingered on her hair and then her eyes. His obvious admiration, gentlemanly in every way, would thrill any girl, as would his thoughtfulness.

Regret over her own behavior cut short her moment of joy. Perhaps she’d been hasty in her opinion of him. Everyone she’d met or seen today regarded him highly. Perhaps she could open her heart to him, if only for friendship. He seemed interested in helping her find Jimmy, and even though he didn’t approve of her working, surely he would understand her determination to support herself. When he came to take her to church on Sunday, she would ask for his help in finding a job.

She opened her trunk to lift out a fresh dress and then dug beneath the other garments for clean stockings. She caught a glimpse of white satin underneath it all and gulped back an unexpected sob. Mrs. Northam had insisted upon purchasing a wedding gown for her, and there it was packed in tissue. Shame brought an ache to her chest. She hadn’t meant to lie to Rand’s mother, at least not consciously. She’d merely grasped for an opportunity to search for Jimmy sooner than if she’d had to work for endless years to make enough money to come to Colorado. And now survival might force her to sell the beautiful satin gown. That would of course destroy her friendship with Mrs. Northam and Rosamond.

Marybeth shoved her emotions aside. Regrets and shame wouldn’t do any good. Instead of waiting to see Rand on Sunday, she must get busy and solve her own problems. Today was Friday and most businesses would be closing soon. She must go back to the center of town and search for a job for which her skills suited her. At the least, she could locate the best places to apply on Monday. Once she changed out of her traveling ensemble and put on a black linen dress appropriate for office work, she grabbed her parasol and made her way toward the staircase.

As she descended, she smiled at the uneven three-four meter of the piano piece, which didn’t quite obscure the melody of a Strauss waltz. Having had her own struggles to smooth out that same meter, she couldn’t resist peeking into the parlor.

A dark-haired girl of perhaps twelve years sat ramrod-straight on the piano stool, her fingers arched over the keys. Mrs. Foster sat in a chair beside her, wearing a strained smile.

“My dear Anna, I don’t believe you’ve been practicing enough this week.”

“No, ma’am, I haven’t.” Anna sat back and crossed her arms in a rebellious pose. “I don’t want to play piano. I want to learn to ride and shoot like Miss Maisie and her sisters.”

“Laurie Eberly plays, Anna, and enjoys it very much.”

“Humph. She’s the only one.”

While Mrs. Foster sighed, Marybeth ducked back out of sight and stifled a laugh. Oh, how she remembered the days of resisting Mam’s lessons. Now she wouldn’t trade her skill for the world. The memory of Rand’s approval when she’d spoken of wanting to play caused a little hiccough in her heart. To reward all of his kindness, she would find out which songs he liked best and play them for him at the first opportunity.

“Well, my dear,” Mrs. Foster said, “your brother insists that you learn, so let’s try to get through this, shall we?”

After heaving out a loud sigh, Anna resumed her hesitant playing just as someone knocked on the front door.

Marybeth stepped into the parlor. “Let me answer that for you.”

“Please do.” The widow nodded her appreciation even as she frowned at Anna.

The front door boasted an oval window with an exquisite etching of wildflowers. Through the glass, Marybeth could see a well-dressed young gentleman, bowler hat in hand, gazing off toward town as he waited to be admitted. When she opened the door, he turned her way, stepped back and blinked in surprise. He quickly regained his composure.

“Ah. You must be Miss O’Brien.” He gave her an elegant bow. “Welcome to our community. I am sure Randall Northam is happy at your safe arrival.” He reminded her of the businessmen she’d seen at church back in Boston. Like some of them, he possessed plain patrician features that became more attractive when he smiled. “Please forgive my forwardness. I am Nolan Means, and I have come to escort my sister home.”

It was Marybeth’s turn to lose her composure. This was the banker Rand had mentioned. Thank You, Lord! Before she blurted out her amazement, along with a plea for a situation in his bank, her schooling in deportment took control. “How do you do, Mr. Means? Please come in. Anna is a charming child, and I believe her lesson is almost complete.”

A sociable look lit his brown eyes as he entered the front hallway. “You have met her?” He chuckled. “How did she do today?”

Marybeth gave him a reserved smile. “I haven’t met her yet, only observed her. I do look forward to making her acquaintance.” How could she turn this conversation into a request to work at his bank? “She seems to be a delightful child who knows her own mind.”

He chuckled again. “That is my sister, all right. And you are gracious to say it that way. Her schoolteachers have never known quite what to do with her.”

The waltz ended with a poorly done arpeggio, and Mr. Means grimaced. “Am I wasting my money and Mrs. Foster’s time?” he whispered.

She shook her head and leaned toward him with a confidential air. “I resisted my lessons at first, but my mother’s persistence paid off in the end. Now I love to play. Give her a little more time.”

“Would you be so kind as to tell Anna that? Perhaps it would encourage her to continue.” He regarded Marybeth with a friendly gaze. “Are you a music teacher, too?”

She swallowed a giddy laugh. The Lord had surely arranged this opening. “Why, yes, but only as my second occupation. I recently completed secretarial training and hope to find employment.” His arched eyebrows foreshadowed the question she didn’t want to answer. “Rand and I haven’t set a wedding date, and I do want to keep busy.”

“Ah. I see.” His changing expression revealed myriad thoughts: surprise, speculation, perhaps even interest. Yet his brief intense look stirred no emotion within her as Rand’s had. In fact, she was relieved when his face took on a businesslike aspect. “Secretarial training, you say? Perhaps our meeting is fortuitous, Miss O’Brien. I have need of a new employee at my bank. Did you also study accounting?”

Somehow Marybeth managed to control her smile. “I did, sir.” She assumed the professional posture her teachers had taught her. “As well as typing.”

“Typing?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “This is indeed a fortuitous meeting. I have obtained one of those Remington Sholes and Glidden typewriters for sending out business correspondence, but I have not found anyone to hire who can manage a letter without errors. Perhaps you can help.”

She gave him a slight bow. “If you’re speaking of the improved 1878 model, I learned on that very machine.”

“Well, then, Miss O’Brien.” He reached out to shake her hand and she responded in kind. “If you will come to the bank at nine o’clock on Monday morning, we can discuss your employment. That is, if you are interested.”

“Nolly!” Anna dashed into the front hall and flung her arms around her brother’s waist. “Oh, do say I don’t have to take lessons anymore.” The sob that accompanied her plea sounded a bit artificial to Marybeth.

Wringing her hands, Mrs. Foster appeared behind her student. In that moment Marybeth realized the dear lady needed the income from these lessons. Losing a student might create a serious problem for her. All the more reason for her to secure the job at the bank so she could pay for her room and board. She could not remain this dear lady’s guest forever.

“Now, now, Anna.” To his credit, Mr. Means seemed not to notice Mrs. Foster’s anxiety. Nor did he appear embarrassed by his sister’s behavior. “We will talk about it later.” He questioned Marybeth with one arched eyebrow. “As well as what you and I discussed, Miss O’Brien?”

She returned a nod, assuming he meant both Anna’s lessons and the situation at the bank. Even if he decided she wouldn’t do for the job, she would be glad to encourage the child to continue. That would be a small repayment to Mrs. Foster for her hospitality.

They took their leave and Marybeth turned to her hostess. “May I help you prepare supper?” She must keep busy until Monday to make the time pass quickly.

Mrs. Foster appeared to have recovered from her alarm, for she gave Marybeth a bemused look. “Nolan seems quite taken with you.”

Marybeth coughed out a nervous laugh. She’d thought her demeanor was entirely proper. “Oh, I certainly hope not.”

Mrs. Foster seemed satisfied with her answer. “Very well. Shall we get busy with supper? I thought chicken and dumplings would be nice.” She beckoned to Marybeth then proceeded down the center hallway.

“That sounds wonderful.” Grinning to herself, Marybeth complied. She couldn’t wait to tell Rand about having the same supper dish Miss Pam had served them for dinner. The cooking rivalry between these two ladies clearly amused him, but following his example, she would praise her hostess’s dish as nothing short of perfection.

Why had she so quickly thought of sharing such a thing with Rand? Perhaps because he’d been in her thoughts since last January and she’d often practiced what she would talk about with him. Even though she’d been uncertain about the marriage, she’d looked forward to making his acquaintance, perhaps even gaining his friendship. Now that she knew his true character, those goals seemed less appealing. What would he say when she told him she had found a job? What would he do?

* * *

Guilt and nervousness vied for control of Rand’s thoughts as he drove toward town. Nate and Tolley had insisted they would take care of today’s chores, but he still felt responsible for doing his share. It was all Susanna’s fault. She and Nate were staying in the big house while his parents and sister were back East, and his sweet little sister-in-law had wheedled the truth out of him about Marybeth’s reticence to marry right away. She’d insisted he must get busy courting.

“If Lizzy were feeling better, I’d say bring Marybeth out here today,” she’d told him over breakfast. Rand’s two-year-old niece had come down with a cold and had clung to her mother while she ate. “First thing next week, you have to do that.” She’d encouraged her fussy baby to take a bite of toast, but Lizzy had refused. “How about a picnic? Today isn’t too soon. Nate and I went on a picnic my second day here. His courage in facing down those Indians made him a hero in my eyes and went a long way toward winning my heart.”

Nate had beamed at his bride’s praise as he’d nudged Rand’s arm. “Go ahead, brother. Rita can pack a basket while you get old Sam hitched up to the buggy. You can drive into town and surprise Marybeth. Ladies like to be surprised, don’t they, sweetheart?”

Susanna had batted her eyelashes at Nate as if they were still courting. Rand admitted to himself that he’d like to have Marybeth look at him that way. Seated across the table, Tolley had just groaned.

“Sí, Senor Rand.” Rita, the family cook, had a little courting going on herself with one of the cowhands. “I’ll have everything ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Well,” Rand had drawled, still uncertain. “I did promise Marybeth a hike in the mountains.” He’d stirred a bite of griddlecake into a puddle of syrup on his plate. “I also promised we’d have a chaperone.”

All eyes had turned toward Tolley, who’d shoved back from the table, shaking his head. “No, sir. Not me. I’ve got all those chores to do, yours and mine. Got cows to milk, stalls to muck out, mustangs to break, fences to check and a whole bunch of other stuff.” He’d stood and started toward the door like a scared rabbit. “Helping with her trunk was one thing, but I refuse to play duenna while you two make eyes at each other. Find somebody else.”

“But you’d look so purty in a lace mantilla,” Nate had quipped.

Rita had giggled and Susanna had laughed. Tolley’s response was to slam the back door on his way out.

Bouncing Lizzy on her lap, Susanna had said, “Why not stop by Maisie and John’s and invite them along?”

So now Rand drove old Sam toward town with a large, well-packed picnic basket secured to the back of the buggy and a prayer in his heart that Doc and Maisie would be free today. If they weren’t, maybe Mrs. Foster would go. Of course that would mean they couldn’t go hiking because it would be too hard on the older lady, but they could go up to a meadow by the river. He couldn’t decide which chaperone he preferred. Having either one hear his every word would only add to his nervousness as he tried to become better acquainted with Marybeth.

As if that wasn’t enough indecision for a man to have, he also had to figure out what to tell her about Hardison. While Nate had advised him not to worry her with the gunslinger’s threats, Tolley thought she ought to know what the man had said in regard to her. Rand usually took his cautious older brother’s advice, and yet he couldn’t entirely dismiss the idea that she should be on the lookout for danger. As peaceful as the Esperanza community was, as caring the folks were about one another, there was always a chance of getting bit by a sneaky snake in the grass.

At the Henshaws’ two-story house several blocks from Mrs. Foster’s, he found three waiting patients seated in the front hallway. He greeted them with concern over their health even as his heart took a dip. Obviously his friends wouldn’t be able to get away for a picnic. Before he could leave, Doc came out of the surgery.

“You’re just in time, Rand. You can give me a hand.” Doc took him out the side door to a wagon, from which they unloaded a leather-topped oak examining table and carried it into the surgery.

With the new furniture in place, Doc eyed Rand up and down. “Now, what can I do for you? I should have asked you that before I put you to work.”

“Say—” Maisie came in the room before Rand could answer “—shouldn’t you be over at Mrs. Foster’s house courting that pretty little bride of yours?” She punctuated her question with a wink, a rowdy laugh and a slap on his arm.

“Uh, yeah. That’s where I’m headed.” Why had he thought inviting them would be a good idea? Maisie had a good heart, and he loved her like a sister, but she also had a loose tongue. He wouldn’t even waste time asking for sure if she’d told Marybeth about his past.

“But—” Doc said.

Not giving Doc a chance to finish, Rand made his escape, dashing back to the buggy and heading toward Mrs. Foster’s house.

Pretty piano music came through the open front window and Rand paused to listen to the end of the song. If that was Marybeth, she wasn’t bad, but not quite as good as Mrs. Foster. Of course she’d said she needed to practice, so he mustn’t be too quick to judge.

When Mrs. Foster admitted him, however, he saw that Laurie Eberly was just finishing her piano lesson. At fourteen years of age, Maisie’s next-to-youngest sister had a bit more musical talent than her four sisters, and she liked to sing. That was, when she wasn’t batting her eyes at Tolley like all the other younger girls. No wonder his brother was skittish about courting with every young girl in the territory making eyes at him, and him not even ready to court. Rand had suffered through that same phase several years ago.

“Make yourself comfortable, Rand.” Mrs. Foster waved him toward the settee as she started up the staircase. “I’ll fetch Marybeth. I’m sure Laurie won’t mind an audience, will you, dear?”

“No, ma’am. I’d love it.” Laurie glanced over Rand’s shoulder as if looking for somebody and then gave him a sisterly smile. “What’s Tolley doing today? Busy at the ranch, I suppose.”

“Oh, he’s real busy.” Rand had his own romance problems, so he sure didn’t want to stir up anything that would annoy his younger brother. He sat, hat in hand, and realized his palms were sweaty. Who would have guessed courting could be so difficult?

“Maybe I’ll ride out there after my lesson and visit Susanna.” Laurie set her fingers on the keys and began to play a song Rand wasn’t familiar with.

He couldn’t figure out a way to discourage her from going out to the ranch and pestering Tolley, especially since Susanna probably would appreciate a visit. Like all of the Eberly sisters, Laurie would be a big help with the sick baby.

“Hello, Rand.” Marybeth entered the parlor looking refreshed from her travels. Beautiful, in fact, with her pretty auburn hair piled high on her head and her eyes more blue than hazel today because of that blue dress. As he stood to greet her, his heart leaped into his throat. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Is everything all right?”

He had to clear his throat before he could talk. “Hello.” Was that dismay or worry in her eyes?

“Now, Marybeth.” Mrs. Foster stood by her with an arm around her waist. Their already comfortable relationship would encourage him if he weren’t so nervous. “Can’t a young man come calling unannounced?”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Marybeth seemed to force a smile. “How are you today, Rand?”

“I’m well, thank you.” He felt the strain in his own smile. “And you?”

“Well, thank you.”

They stared at each other for a moment until Marybeth looked down at her hands.

About now was the time when Maisie would slap his arm and tell him to speak up. Fortunately her little sister didn’t seem so inclined. Laurie still sat at the piano, and even though she wasn’t playing she didn’t appear to be eavesdropping.

“I was wondering,” he said, “if you would accompany me on a picnic—you and Mrs. Foster? We can go down by the river, enjoy the scenery and see what our housekeeper fixed for us. She’s a great cook.” He glanced at Mrs. Foster. “Of course, not as good as you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, dear boy.” Her beaming face showed how much she appreciated his words. How she must miss hearing her husband praise her cooking. “Rita is quite young, but she’ll improve with a bit more experience.” She looked between the two of them. “Thank you for inviting me to chaperone your outing. Unfortunately, on Saturdays, my teaching schedule and my organ practice for tomorrow’s service keep me from accepting.”

Was that relief he saw on Marybeth’s face? Dismay wound through Rand’s chest. Was she all that set against being with him? So much for Susanna’s brilliant idea about courting.

* * *

Marybeth tried to hide her relief over Mrs. Foster’s refusal. The last thing she wanted was to have the older lady present when she asked Rand how serious he was about helping her find Jimmy. Bless her kind heart, the lady was a gossip, as their late talk last night had revealed. She wasn’t in the least malicious, but stated outright that folks had a right to know what was going on in their community. While Marybeth couldn’t disagree, she didn’t want her private business spread all over town and who knew where else. She must be the one who told Jimmy about Mam and Da being dead, an important piece of news she now wished she hadn’t told Mrs. Foster. Yet how could she have kept it from her?

She scrambled around in her mind to think of a public place to go with Rand, a place where she’d feel safe or could walk away if need be. Perhaps that park she’d seen across from the church—

“If you need a chaperone, I’ll go with you.” Laurie lowered the fallboard over the piano keys and stood. “Before Maisie and Doc got married, I always tagged along to keep things proper.” She gathered her music and put it in a leather satchel. “Since Tolley’s busy and all, I can go fishing and see if the trout are biting.” She gave Rand a look Marybeth couldn’t quite discern. “Sort of planned to do that anyway.”

Relief and amazement struck Marybeth at the same time. The Lord was still guiding her life in His mysterious way. While Laurie fished, she and Rand could talk privately.

“That’s real nice, Laurie.” Rand gave Marybeth a doubtful look. “Of course, if you had plans...”

“Not at all.” She must have sounded too eager, because Rand’s sad expression turned upside down. Gracious, he was handsome when he smiled. Handsome when he frowned, too, but of course smiles were much better. “Just let me change into something more suitable.”

It didn’t take her five minutes to slip out of her plain blue gingham and into her brown traveling skirt and white shirtwaist. Mrs. Foster offered her the use of a broad-brimmed straw hat to protect her complexion from the sun, and she carried her parasol for extra shade and a shawl in case a breeze came up. In a short time, they were on their way north toward the Rio Grande.

Marybeth sat next to Rand in his buggy, with Laurie riding her horse alongside them. Each time they went over a bump, Marybeth’s shoulder jolted against his upper arm, and she could feel the solid muscles beneath the blue plaid sleeve. How pleasant that might have been if they were truly courting. Or if he weren’t wearing that gun strapped to his right leg. Did he always wear it, even to church? She’d find out tomorrow.

The road smoothed out north of Esperanza and they picked up speed. Marybeth gazed east across the wide, flat valley toward the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. On the left, the San Juan range appeared nearer. Was Jimmy someplace up there? Or was she on a fool’s errand?

“Thinking about your brother?” Rand offered that lopsided grin that made her silly heart skip. Or maybe it was his insightful question that moved her.

“Yes.” She looked away from him toward the east again and brushed at sudden tears, hoping he hadn’t seen them. “After all these years, I can’t believe I’m this close. At least close to where his letter came from. Is Del Norte far? That’s where he mailed it.”

“Not far.” For some reason he gave a little shudder at the mention of the next town over. “It’s a long day’s trip there and back.”

“You go there often?”

His jaw tightened. “Haven’t been there in three years.”

Her question had bothered him, but why? Did it have something to do with his killing a man? Should she press the issue or let it go? With Laurie now riding twenty yards ahead, her long red hair swaying with the movement of her horse, she wouldn’t hear their conversation. Perhaps the time had come for Marybeth to tell him what Maisie had said. His response would reveal a great deal about his character.

* * *

Rand knew God was pushing him to tell her about killing Cole Lyndon. He’d planned to do so today, but had hoped for a more comfortable setting, like after they both had full stomachs.

“Three years. That’s a long time for such a close town.” Marybeth spoke simply, with no apparent meaning behind her words. “Especially since Mrs. Foster tells me Del Norte has more places to shop than Esperanza.”

Had Mrs. Foster told her anything else? He’d better hurry or everyone in the area would blurt out their own version of the story about the worst day of his life.

“I don’t go over there because I used to gamble, and I don’t want to be tempted.” Those were the words of a coward sneaking in the back door.

Marybeth eyed him with surprise and maybe a bit of worry. “Gambling? You used to gamble?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave a little shrug, bumping her slender shoulder without meaning to. It made his arm buzz pleasantly, but how did she feel about it? From her frown, he guessed she was thinking about the gambling and hadn’t even noticed. “I had a real bad experience the last time I played poker and decided it wasn’t the best way to spend my time.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Still frowning, she narrowed her eyes and now he could tell for certain she already knew the answer.

He pulled in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. This was so hard. Should he explain that the man he’d killed had bragged about robbing and beating Susanna’s father and leaving him for dead? That the gold lying on the table between them had come from selling the old man’s horses? That the man and his partner had already cheated at that very card game? That Rand and his pal Seamus were about to quit anyway? Excuses, all of them. If he’d had a lick of sense, he’d have just walked away from the table that day and found the sheriff. A sick feeling rose up in his gullet.

“I killed a man.”

She barely blinked, just looked away from him toward the river ahead. “I see.”

“Maisie told you, didn’t she?”

Marybeth nodded, still not looking his way. “She said you’re a hero because the man was a horse thief who’d done his own share of killing.”

He shrugged again, this time taking care not to touch her. “That still doesn’t excuse it. Instead of losing my temper, I should have let the law handle him.”

She looked his way, tears rimming her eyes. “So you regret it.” Not a question, a statement. Maybe she understood.

“I do. Deeply.”

She set her long, gloved fingers on his forearm. This time her touch imparted an odd sort of reassurance. “Have you asked God for forgiveness?”

A grim laugh escaped him. “Every day.”

“Then you must believe He has forgiven you.”

* * *

Marybeth enjoyed the sweet smile that blossomed across Rand’s handsome face. This had been an important moment for them because so far they hadn’t had a chance to discuss their faith. Yet nagging at the back of her mind was the memory of Mam always forgiving Da, but Da never changing. Had Rand truly changed, or did he still have the kind of quick temper that would make him draw a gun and kill a man...or who knew what else? She would wait and see.

“Thank you.” Rand squeezed her hand.

“For what?”

“For reminding me of God’s forgiveness.” He tugged the reins to the left to direct the horse down the path Laurie had taken. “Mother wrote that you’re a woman of faith, and it’s good to hear you speak of it.” His gaze lingered briefly on her lips. To her relief, he made no move to kiss her.

They arrived at a small meadow beside the slow-moving river, so Marybeth would have to postpone asking Rand questions about his faith. She didn’t think she’d done much to help him, but her words had obviously encouraged him. At the very least, it was an opening she could refer to later.

He jumped down from the buggy and loosely secured the reins around a slender young pine tree so his horse could help himself to the abundance of grass at his feet. Laurie had already dismounted and found a branch to use for a fishing pole.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Rand called out to her.

“Sure am.” Laurie continued to work with her pole. “I just wanted to get a line out in the water to see what’s swimming by today.”

“Suit yourself.” Rand gave Marybeth a hand in stepping down from the buggy.

“What a lovely place.” She breathed in the fresh, cool air of the shady meadow. Closer to the river she spied some wildflowers but didn’t recognize what kind they were. Peace settled over her and she made up her mind to enjoy the day.

“Yep. It’s real nice here. ’Course we have fish in the streams near our ranch, but the best trout come from the Rio Grande. That’s why I like it.” He walked to the back of the rig, untied the picnic basket and pulled a blanket from beneath it. Then he searched for a good spot to lay it out.

Marybeth hurried to his side. “I’ll help you.”

“No, ma’am. You’re my guest today.” Finding a shady spot, he moved a few rocks and branches out of the way. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Nonetheless, Marybeth reached for the blanket and helped him spread it out. She started to follow him back to fetch the basket, but he stopped and gently gripped her upper arms. “You don’t mind very well, do you? Now go sit down and let me manage the rest.”

Despite his crooked grin and teasing tone, a shiver went through her. No. She would not feel this way. He was just being nice, just taking care of her, as any gentleman would. She tried to return a playful grin, but it felt too wobbly to be convincing. Turning from him, she did as he said and made herself comfortable on the old woolen blanket. Or as comfortable as one could be on the rough ground. She reached beneath the blanket and pulled out a few more rocks.

He returned with the basket just as she threw aside a large sharp stone. Instead of the charming grin she expected, his expression twisted into something she couldn’t even describe. Fear? Anger? Because she’d moved a rock instead of waiting for him?

He slowly set down the basket, slowly pulled his gun from his holster and slowly pointed it straight at her. “Don’t move, Marybeth. Don’t move an inch.”

* * *

The rattler was just pulling itself up into a coil not three feet from Marybeth’s hand. Yet the fear written across her pretty face wasn’t from the danger she hadn’t even noticed. She was afraid of him. In spite of his confession, she still didn’t trust him. But this was no time to sort it all out. She had minded his order and sat like a statue on the blanket, her widened eyes squarely focused on his gun.

Dear God, don’t let her move. Let me kill the rattler without hurting her.

Gunfire exploded several yards to his left. Snake parts flew in all directions. Rand’s knees threatened to buckle. He glanced at Laurie, whose rifle bore a telltale curl of smoke around its barrel.

Now he was just downright annoyed. Saving Marybeth’s life would have made him a real hero in her eyes. Yet honesty demanded that he hand the honors to a fourteen-year-old girl.

“Good aim, Laurie.” He needed to downplay the situation, make it sound like an everyday occurrence to calm Marybeth’s fears.

“Looked to me like Marybeth was in your way.” Laurie shrugged as she returned her rifle to the leather holster on her horse’s saddle. “I had a better shot from over here.”

Rand nodded his agreement. “Let’s see now. Shall we move the blanket to a nicer spot closer to the river?” Someplace far away from the dead snake. “I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m as hungry as a bear coming out of hibernation.”

He grinned at Marybeth about one second before she fell over on the blanket in a heap.

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