Stacey Kayne - Bride Of Shadow Canyon

“Hell, no, Jed. I’s makin’ sure no one else took a mind to join the fight. Yer still fast as a snakebite.”

“A snake headed straight to hell,” he mumbled.

Rachell tightened her grip, keeping her face pressed against his neck, clearly not about to give up her hold until she was out of the saloon. “You got a name, boy?” Jed asked, kicking the kid’s boot.

“Juniper Barns, sir,” the kid called out, keeping all four limbs stretched wide and his nose to the floor.

“Tell your boss Miss Nightingale is no longer in his possession. If he has a problem with that, he’s welcome to come and protest the matter in Shadow Canyon. Sam’ll even give him directions. Ain’t that right, Sam?”

“Sure thing, Jed. I’ll be glad to point the way to any man fool enough to go chasing shadows.”

More than a dozen pairs of eyes snapped up in his direction. Jed’s jaw flexed with tension. Folks sure had a knack for remembering tragedy.

His gaze dropped back to the kid. “Juniper, if you plan to live long enough to see hair grow on your chin, I suggest you use better judgment when choosing who you ride with.” He holstered his gun then grabbed a pair of red leather boots from the pile of scarlet silks on the table. “Sorry about the mess, Sam,” he said, backing toward the door.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Jed eased his hold on Rachell and released a hard sigh of relief. Rachell’s tight grip didn’t relax one bit as he carried her toward his horse.

“Loosen your grip, lady. I need air.”

Rachell pulled in a deep breath and eased away from the bend of his neck, the sound of gunfire still ringing in her ears.

“You killed them?” she asked, her voice shaking from the fear still ripping through her body.

“I wasn’t shootin’ daisies.”

He lifted her back over his shoulder like a sack of oats and swung into the saddle atop a large tan horse. Before she could protest his manhandling, he grabbed her waist and brought her down hard on his lap with her bare feet hanging to one side. A sharp cry escaped her throat as her hip hit against the saddle horn.

“Ah, hell. I plain forgot about that bruise,” he said in a shockingly gentle tone. She gasped as an even gentler hand smoothed across her aching hip. “I’ve got a coat.”

He took a dark range coat from behind his saddle and placed it between her hip and the hard leather.

A blush burned beneath Rachell’s skin. Lord above! He’d seen her entire body.

“You all right?” he asked a moment later as he guided his horse down the dusty, moonlit road.

“Am I?” she asked in a weak voice, feeling completely uncertain and wondering what had happened to the callous man who had carried her out of the saloon.

“We’re both alive. Sounds all right to me.”

Rachell glanced up at her rescuer. His softened expression stunned her. She noted too that he was older than she’d first assumed. He’d removed his hat, and his shadow of a beard and long hair were as black as a midnight sky, the bright moonlight shone on a touch of gray streaking out from his temples. He smiled, crinkling the tanned skin at the outer corners of his eyes.

His smile broadened, spreading charm across what moments ago had appeared to be a face carved from stone. White teeth flashed in the moonlight.

He was clean. She recalled how his skin had smelled of soap, a rarity among men. Could this be the same man who had just hauled her from that filthy saloon?

“Sugar, you plannin’ on giving me a thank-you kiss?”

It’s him, she thought, releasing a huff as she diverted her gaze. A handsome devil with all the manners of a jackass.

“So much for gratitude,” he retorted. “Maybe later.”

“Certainly not. ” Real fear raced through her. Saints alive! She was riding off into the dark wilderness with this gunslinger. What type of man had her sister sent after her?

“I reckon you’re out of my price range anyhow.”

“I am not a—”

“Tighten your lip until we’re clear of this town.” He urged his horse into a faster pace.

Startled, Rachell clutched at his chest.

“Lady, there’s hair and skin under that shirt.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, releasing her hold.

“I won’t drop you.” His arm wrapped around her waist as he took the reins into one hand. His large palm slid across her side and covered the flat of her stomach. “Is that better?”

Lord above! No, it wasn’t better. Had she been able to find her voice, she would have told him so.

“We can slow our pace just as soon as we get some ground between us and Weaver.”

After a half hour of riding, Jed was growing increasingly annoyed. They were traveling at a nice easy pace, yet she continued to squirm and shift about, apparently searching for just the right spot to rest her tender backside.

“Sit still, goddamn it!” he finally shouted.

“I beg your pardon, but your lap is far from comfortable.”

“Yeah?” he quipped. “Well, you keep wrigglin’ your backside, and my lap is only bound to get harder.”

She stiffened like an iron rod, sitting perfectly still.

That did the trick, he thought. It obviously hadn’t been her intention to aggravate him, but he hadn’t been exaggerating. Her squirming about had quickly become slow torture.

Hell. He knew she was going to be a whole heap of trouble the moment he and Buck stepped onto that train and found her abandoned carpetbag. Elizabeth had become hysterical when they’d informed her that her sister had been escorted off the train by two men in Lake’s Crossing. Buck needed to stay with his wife, which was just as well. His best friend had helped him out plenty of times in the past, but stalking was not one of Buck’s finer skills.

Walter Buck Coleburn couldn’t sneak up on a deaf blind man, and Jed had a hunch the men who’d escorted Mrs. Rachell Carlson off the train were neither deaf nor blind. As usual, he’d been right. He wasn’t about to lead Satan’s army back to his ranch. Rachell wouldn’t be stepping foot in California until he was sure she was free of trouble.

A grumbling sound distracted Jed from his thoughts. When it sounded again, he grinned, realizing it was Rachell’s stomach.

“You tryin’ to tell me you’re hungry?”

“How kind of you to notice,” she said in a dull tone.

“It’s either that or there’s a grizzly on our tail.”

Rachell glanced up at the man above her, surprised by his unexpected show of humor. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Somehow, his soft expression increased her uneasiness. She wished those chiseled features would return to stone.

“What?” he asked, holding her gaze.

Rachell shook her head, annoyed that she’d been caught openly staring at him, again. She felt a jolt of alarm as he tugged on the reins. “Why are you stopping?”

“Relax. You’re safe with me.” He lifted her from his lap and gently eased her down. She shivered as her bare feet touched the damp ground.

“Sage could use a rest,” he said, dismounting. “I have some dried beef in my saddlebags, and I thought you might want your boots.”

“You have my boots?”

“Red leather’s hard to miss. I grabbed ‘em off the table while I was chattin’ with Juniper.”

She’d been such a bundle of nerves, unable to bear the sight of more bloodshed, she probably wouldn’t have noticed if he’d taken the piano. She hadn’t even thought about young Juniper being left alone in that town. He’d been so brave to tag along with the others, doing his best to protect her. “Do you think Juniper will be all right?”

Jed pulled her boots out from under a rope tied around the pack behind his saddle. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling sympathetic toward your captors?”