Stacey Kayne - Bride Of Shadow Canyon

“I would hardly refer to Juniper as one of my captors, Mr. Jed. He’s just a boy. June isn’t like the others. He’s not bad.”

“If he doesn’t change his line of work, he soon will be,” Jed said with dark certainty as he held out her shoes.

“Only my boots?” she asked with a ring of disappointment.

The coldness came back into his eyes, firming his features. “I had you in one hand and my gun in the other.”

She avoided his harsh glare as she accepted the boots. “Thank you. I didn’t intend to sound ungrateful.”

“Just put your boots on. I want to get as far from Weaver as I can before sunup. We won’t be making camp tonight.”

“The sooner we reach California, the better,” she said as she pulled on a boot. “I was eleven when I last saw my sister.” Sadness washed over Rachell like a winter chill as she recalled the day Elizabeth’s late husband had carted her off to California. Never knowing her mother, she’d been raised by Elizabeth and their housekeeper, Amity. Six months after her sister’s departure, their father had sent her away to boarding school.

For six years she’d lived at Miss Abigail’s Academy for Young Ladies. Six years of being an outcast, a dandelion in a garden of roses. Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t dreamed of returning to the farm and people she loved. When that day finally came, she’d returned home to nothing but a brick chimney stack surrounded by rubble, ruined crops, and the state torn apart by war, along with the family who’d given her up.

“I lost touch with Elizabeth during the war,” she said in a neutral tone, pushing the painful memories from her mind as she tugged on her second boot. “It was a miracle I managed to locate her. I had no idea her first husband had died or that she had remarried. A man came up to me after a show while I was working in Kansas and said he’d heard my last song once before, sung by a little redheaded woman in California as she hung out her wash.”

Securing her boot laces, Rachell smiled at the single stroke of good fortune she’d received in so many years. “He gave me the name of her husband’s horse ranch and Elizabeth and I have been exchanging letters for the past seven months. She was kind enough to find a job for me, at my request. Her husband’s nephew has a ranch not far from his. I only hope Mr. Darby hasn’t hired another housekeeper. I don’t wish to be a burden on my sister.”

“Ben hasn’t hired anyone else.”

Kneeling over her unlaced boot, Rachell looked up in sharp surprise. Jed stood beside his horse, his arms crossed over his wide chest as he stared down at her. She suddenly realized she’d been prattling on without regard to his presence.

His expressionless gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Just who is this man?

“You know Benjamin Darby?”

“Yes.”

“How was it that my sister came to hire you, Mr. Jed?”

“Your sister didn’t hire me. Buck’s a friend of mine.”

“Buck?”

“Your sister’s husband, Walter ‘Buck’ Coleburn. I volunteered to find you and bring you back safely. You’d make that job a whole lot easier if you’d be truthful with me.”

She dropped her laces and glared at him. “I’ve not said one untruthful word thus far.”

Jed grunted. “Why is Sumner after you?”

“I’ve been working in his establishment for the past four months. I knew he’d be angry when he discovered I’d left, but I never imagined he’d send men after me.”

“You worked in a brothel?”

“A saloon!”

“You’re a whore.”

She sucked in a hard breath before shouting, “I am not!”

Her sharp response surprised Jed. He hadn’t said it as an accusation or a question. Just the simple truth. Apparently, she wasn’t ready to be truthful.

She sprang to her feet, her posture stiff as a soldier’s, her expression as hard and lethal as a warrior ready for battle.

“I sing, Mr. Jed. Nothing more.”

“He hired all those men to fetch a songbird?” Jed shook his head. “I don’t buy it. You must have taken something of his or be something of his. You’re not his mistress?”

“No, I am not. Nor am I a thief. Maxwell knew I was intending to leave. He had gotten it into his mind that I was his woman and had tired of taking no for an answer.”

Jed knew there had to be more to the story than she was telling. He turned away from her harsh glare and mounted his horse. He held his hand out to help her up, but Rachell didn’t move a muscle.

“Comin’?” he asked when she continued to stall.

He couldn’t hold back a grin since she stomped toward him making some sort of growling sound. “Sugar, you can’t weigh a hundred pounds,” he said as he lifted her up and onto his lap. “If he wanted you, what was to stop him from taking you?”

“Titus.”

“What?”

“Titus. He’s been with me for the past five years. When I began to sing in saloons, he protected me from Sumner and others like him.”

Jed noted the distinct sadness in her tone as he urged Sage into motion. “I take it this Titus fellow is no longer around. Your boyfriend ran off?”

“He was a friend, not my boyfriend, and no, he did not run off. Maxwell Sumner had him killed.”

“If you’re so all-fire sure of that, why didn’t you just turn Sumner in to the law?”

“Because the sheriff of Mason County wasn’t about to investigate the murder of a black man. More than likely, he’s the one who shot Titus. Maxwell owns the law in that town.”

The words he’s been with me took on a sour meaning for Jed. “I don’t suppose Titus received wages for his protective services?”

“Half of anything I earned.”

Jed’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s awfully generous for a hired guard.”

She shifted, lifting her hate-filled gaze. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Are you deaf? Titus was more to me than a hired guard. He was the closest friend I’ve ever had. And now he’s dead, because of me.” She twisted, putting her back to him.

“Here,” he said, holding out the large piece of dried beef he’d taken from his saddlebags. She snatched it with a mumbled thank-you.

Jed guided Sage through the moonlit countryside, silently contemplating her story. He wasn’t a man easily swayed by succulent pouting lips and water-filled eyes, but something about Rachell pulled at the hollows of his chest.

A droplet of moisture hit his hand, telling him the glaze of tears he’d seen in her eyes was cascading down her fair cheeks. Yet she didn’t make a sound, refusing to brush the wet trail from her face and draw attention to her emotional release.

Damnation. He didn’t know what to make of this woman. She was lousy at playing the part of a damsel in distress.

He gave himself a silent word of caution. Imps were cunning little creatures, known for their mischief and trouble.

The man is a barbarian!

He hadn’t even bothered to wake her before dumping her from his lap, sending her stumbling forward then staggering backward. Disoriented and unable to catch her balance, Rachell fell back onto her sore bottom in a flutter of oversized green calico.

She had never fully appreciated the padding of petticoats until now when she was without them. Her thin skirt offered no protection against the hard ground.

Ignoring Jed’s mumbled words of apology, she gazed about the small town, making no effort to rise. Good Lord. How long had she been asleep? As her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she realized the town was actually a cluster of saloons built inside a narrow mountain crevasse. “Where are we?”