A Lady of the West by Linda Howard Page B

knows it. He can’t get along without me.”
    â€œI can.” The emotionless voice came from the open double doors behind Garnet. “I can get along without you just fine, Garnet. In fact, I like the idea.”
    Garnet whirled, and a spasm of hate twisted hisfeatures. If he had been angry before, now he was furious. “This is none of your business, Roper.”
    â€œIt is if I make it my business.” He hadn’t moved from the doorway. With the light behind him it was impossible to see his face, but Victoria found that it wasn’t necessary; his voice, flat and cold as it was, stated his intent. “Leave the girl alone.”
    â€œSo you can have her?”
    â€œNo. I don’t want her. But you’re not going to have her, either.”
    Garnet’s right hand moved, but Roper moved faster. The big revolver was in his hand before Garnet touched the butt of his. Victoria hadn’t even seen Roper’s hand move. Garnet froze, and even in the coolness of the stable a sheen of sweat covered his face.
    â€œPass the word,” Roper said flatly. “Everyone leaves the girl alone.”
    Just for a second Garnet froze, unwilling to retreat. Watching him, Victoria saw the exact moment when he realized he didn’t have any choice, if he wanted to live. He turned and stalked off. Victoria quietly exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She forced herself to look at Roper as he stepped farther into the stable, though she wanted to flee like Garnet. “Thank you.”
    He said, “You made an enemy.”
    Wryly, she answered, “So did you.”
    He watched the way the small amusement tilted the corners of her lips upward. “That was nothing new between me and Garnet. One of us will kill the other before it’s over.”
    â€œSo you did it just to annoy him?” For some reason that angered her. She thought of leaving, but didn’t. She didn’t even step back when Roper walked so close by her that his legs brushed her skirt.
    â€œWhat difference does it make, as long as it keeps him away from your simpleminded sister?”
    Her fists knotted. “She’s not!” she hissed. “Celiareads and writes; she’s as intelligent as most. She’s just… different.” Temper burned in her cheeks. “Don’t you dare call her simpleminded.”
    â€œDifferent, how?”
    How, indeed? How did you explain a near adult who still had the innocence and glee of a child without using the label of simplicity? Celia was as fey and otherwordly as a wood nymph. It was as if she was so sensitive to everything that she had to block out the darkness of life in order to survive, leaving her with only sunlight. Victoria sought for the words. “She … doesn’t see ugliness, or evil. She expects everyone to be as open and good-natured as she is.”
    He snorted as he swung a saddle down from the railing. “That’s worse than simplemindedness. That’s plain stupid, and out here it’ll get you killed.” He towered over her, and as Victoria refused to step back in retreat she was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. Their eyes met and a strange little frisson of fear raced down her spine. His eyes glittered under the low brim of his hat, and she saw that they were a clear, dark hazel green. He was so close to her that she could see the black specks in his irises, so close that she could smell the sweat on his skin, and feel the heat emanating from him. Her skirts were brushing his dusty boots, and she didn’t care. She felt paralyzed as she stared up at him, held immobile by a strange, frightening excitement that knotted her stomach and set her heart to pounding. All of her life she had associated the scents of shaving soap and cologne with men, very civilized smells that she had thought pleasant and nothing more. Yet now the hot, primal smell of Roper’s sweaty skin