Carolyn Davidson - Texas Lawman

“Intent is reason enough for me to take you in for questioning.”

She tossed her head and the moonlight shimmered from dark hair, turning her skin to palest ivory, even as her eyes glittered with the reflection of starlight. “Hard up for a woman?” she asked softly.

“Now that you mention it,” he returned quietly, “I am…a little.”

“There’s no little about it,” she countered, “Either you’re on the prowl for a handy female, or you’re not.” Her chin lifted, a challenge he’d not thought to hear spewing from her lips.

“If you touch me, I swear I’ll kill you, Mr. Lawman. You can toss me in your jail cell if you like, but you better have a damn good reason for doing it.”

She was either a very brave woman or totally without good sense…!

The Marriage Agreement

“Davidson uses her considerable skills to fashion a

plausible, first-class marriage-of-convenience romance.”

—Romantic Times

Texas Gold

“Davidson delivers a story fraught with sexual tension.”

—Romantic Times

A Marriage by Chance

“This deftly written novel about loss and recovery

is a skillful handling of the traditional Western,

with the added elements of family conflict

and a moving love story.”

—Romantic Times

The Tender Stranger

“Davidson wonderfully captures gentleness in

the midst of heart-wrenching challenges, portraying

the extraordinary possibilities that exist within

ordinary marital love.”

—Publishers Weekly

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To Erin and Bob Bittner, two of the lawmen of this day and age, who also happen to be very near and dear to my heart—this book is dedicated. May you find happiness together as you begin your walk through life as man and wife, and may God’s face shine upon you in all the years to come.

And to Mr. Ed, manager and husband of the year—every year—who loves me.

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Benning, Texas

April 10, 1901

H e drew his gun and lifted it before him, sighting down the barrel to where his prey stood beneath a tree, in a gladed area on the northern side of town. Revealed in the moonlight by a stray break in the clouds overhead, the figure was unmoving, a pale shirt and dark trousers fitting the slender form like a glove.

The flow of dark hair gave away her gender. That, and the narrow waist that was belted snugly, emphasizing the rounded hips that filled a pair of trousers almost to bursting.

“I can see your badge. Go ahead and shoot, Sheriff,” she said quietly, the sound carrying to where he stood. “Shall I step forward and give you a better target?”

Brace Caulfield lowered his gun. “Damn.” The single word was uttered in disgust—the vehemence aimed at himself as he stuffed his weapon into the holster that was tied to his thigh. “Walk over here, lady,” he said harshly. “You pret’ near got yourself shot just now.”

The woman obeyed slowly. Perhaps, he decided, to prove to him that it was her choice alone that prompted her movements. Stepping carefully over the hillocks in the clearing, glancing down at where she walked, she approached him and then halted, not quite within his reach.

“Who are you?” His voice was strong, the tones strident, for the mere seconds during which he’d sighted her down the length of his gun barrel had shaken his composure. Never had his weapon been aimed at a woman, and his anger rose against the female who had caused him to do so.

“You don’t need to know,” she said quietly. “I won’t be here any longer than it takes to round up my horse and climb on.”

“What were you doing in town scouting out the back door of the hotel?” he asked.

He’d seen her there first—just a glimpse of a man, he’d thought—wearing a light-colored shirt. Now he recognized that the pale fabric held the lush curves of a woman’s bosom. A woman full grown. Not the youthful creature he’d thought her to be when he’d taken her measure for the second time, just moments since.

“Nothing illegal,” she answered. “I was looking for someone.”

“Most folks use the front door,” he said bluntly. “You have a problem with that?”

“The man I was watching for didn’t want to be seen. I knew if he left the hotel it would be from the rear entrance.”

He propped his hand against his hip, just above the gun that weighed heavily against his leg. His eyes narrowed as he listened to her explanation, and his tone was rasping as he spoke. “You were looking for a man.”

It was a statement of fact and she merely shrugged, not prone, it seemed, to offer any more information than she already had.

“Who?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the sound somehow more threatening.

“I’m not sure you need to know that,” she said. “If you’re going to shoot me, go ahead. Otherwise, you have no reason to stop me from mounting my horse and leaving town.”

“You left your animal behind when you ran off,” he pointed out, one long finger tipping his hat back a bit. And then that finger pointed to his right, where lights glowed from a string of establishments along the street that centered town. “He’s tied to a hitching rail in front of the general store.”

She bit at her lip, looking in the direction he pointed. “Who did that?”

“My deputy. I figured you’d be back to get the mare, and Jamie’s keeping an eye out, waiting for you to show up.”

She turned abruptly and stalked away. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would I?”

He kept pace with her, allowing her to stride in front of him, wondering why he hadn’t recognized immediately that the slender form he’d followed between buildings and behind the newspaper office, almost to the woods, was not a man at all. He was certainly having no problem now sorting out the difference between her womanly form and that of a male.

She walked down the sidewalk beside the dark stores, past the saloon where music and loud voices carried over and under the swinging doors to clash in a raucous symphony of sound. The general store was dark, the proprietor gone for the night, and in front of his establishment stood a mare, saddled and ready to ride.

“Did you find the man?” Brace asked the woman as she stepped down to release her mare from the hitching rail.

She turned to face him, reins in her hand. “No. If I had, you’d have heard a gunshot, Sheriff. I’d have killed him.” With a quick move she was in the saddle, and Brace took a long stride toward her, reaching for her reins.