cowboy standing on the bank of the creek.
He looked like a drifter, maybe part Indian. He wore a gunbelt, a rifle scabbard, two boot knives, and a sly expression in his black eyes that she didn't trust.
Instead of trying to pull away from the wall of Laramie's body, Vic pressed closer to it, bracing her cheek against his upper ribs —since she did still want to see what was happening. She felt very aware his arm looping around her back, his hand spread on her hip.
"Whoa there, friend," said the stranger, shaking his head. "Ain't meant to surprise you. Let's not get spooked."
Laramie just stood there and silently pointed his gun.
So Victoria said, "What are you doing out here, mister? It's almost dark."
The man's smile bothered her. "Not what you was doin', I guess."
"Chasing a hat?" She shivered, but that was because rushing mountain water chilled her feet as it tugged past, even in late July. The wet shelter of Laramie's body was warm in comparison.
The man's smile widened. "My mistake, miss. I was just fillin' my canteen." Lifting a dripping canteen in proof, he noted the derringer aimed at him. "You got my word, mister. I don't mean either you or the lady no harm."
Victoria guessed Laramie believed him, because he slowly lowered his gun hand to point down at the water.
But she felt just as glad that he didn't push it back up his sleeve yet.
"No offense meant, friend," added the stranger, kneeling on the bank to finish filling his canteen. "But anyone ever tell you you're a touch quick on the draw?"
Victoria said, 'You should ride up to the house. We've got a perfectly good pump, and maybe dinner too."
"We're not that close to the ranch house," noted the stranger. It was true that, even if they left the trees, they wouldn't be in immediate sight of the house anymore. Darned hat! But only one rise separated them from it.
"You're closer than not," she challenged.
"True enough." The stranger looked at them both with sly eyes. "Miss, wouldn't you like to stand on dry land again? I'm surprised your feller here ain't helped you out."
"I'm fine," she insisted —still pressed against Laramie, even if he wasn't "her feller." She felt safe this way. She liked that he kept his attention on the stranger. "What's your business at the Circle-T?" she asked.
Laramie's hand twitched against her hip, as if maybe he didn't like the question. But it wasn't his family's ranch.
The stranger's eyes slid from her up to Laramie. "I'm lookin' for someone I heard tell rides for the brand."
"Why?"
"Figured I might have some business with him."
"What kind of business could you have that you couldn't visit during the day? Why wait until night?"
Laramie was definitely nudging her.
The stranger laughed at her protector. "She sure does know how to fan them questions, don't she?"
When Laramie said 'Yes," his chest vibrated under Victoria's fingertips. Where her cheek pressed against his ribs, she could hear the comforting sound of his heartbeat.
"Miss, you may have a point," agreed the stranger. "I guess I'll just get word to my friend to meet me in town. Maybe at one of the saloons. You know of any to recommend?"
Her? She drew a breath to protest the insult, but then Laramie answered, "The Red Light."
So maybe the stranger hadn't been asking her at all.
Victoria corrected him anyway. "I've heard that's not a very nice saloon. The Buffalo Bill's the nice one."
When the stranger grinned again, his teeth seemed whiter because the shadows were getting deeper. "This is business for a not-very-nice saloon," he admitted. "So I'll have this feller meet me there. That would be better than sneakin' about on a fine ranch like this, don't you reckon? Less chance of folks ... talkin'."
Folks talking, or her? Victoria could keep secrets; heaven knew she collected enough of them. But she also had responsibilities as a Garrison to be sure that nobody connected with the ranch was doing anything illegal or immoral.
"Who is your friend?" she
He looked like a drifter, maybe part Indian. He wore a gunbelt, a rifle scabbard, two boot knives, and a sly expression in his black eyes that she didn't trust.
Instead of trying to pull away from the wall of Laramie's body, Vic pressed closer to it, bracing her cheek against his upper ribs —since she did still want to see what was happening. She felt very aware his arm looping around her back, his hand spread on her hip.
"Whoa there, friend," said the stranger, shaking his head. "Ain't meant to surprise you. Let's not get spooked."
Laramie just stood there and silently pointed his gun.
So Victoria said, "What are you doing out here, mister? It's almost dark."
The man's smile bothered her. "Not what you was doin', I guess."
"Chasing a hat?" She shivered, but that was because rushing mountain water chilled her feet as it tugged past, even in late July. The wet shelter of Laramie's body was warm in comparison.
The man's smile widened. "My mistake, miss. I was just fillin' my canteen." Lifting a dripping canteen in proof, he noted the derringer aimed at him. "You got my word, mister. I don't mean either you or the lady no harm."
Victoria guessed Laramie believed him, because he slowly lowered his gun hand to point down at the water.
But she felt just as glad that he didn't push it back up his sleeve yet.
"No offense meant, friend," added the stranger, kneeling on the bank to finish filling his canteen. "But anyone ever tell you you're a touch quick on the draw?"
Victoria said, 'You should ride up to the house. We've got a perfectly good pump, and maybe dinner too."
"We're not that close to the ranch house," noted the stranger. It was true that, even if they left the trees, they wouldn't be in immediate sight of the house anymore. Darned hat! But only one rise separated them from it.
"You're closer than not," she challenged.
"True enough." The stranger looked at them both with sly eyes. "Miss, wouldn't you like to stand on dry land again? I'm surprised your feller here ain't helped you out."
"I'm fine," she insisted —still pressed against Laramie, even if he wasn't "her feller." She felt safe this way. She liked that he kept his attention on the stranger. "What's your business at the Circle-T?" she asked.
Laramie's hand twitched against her hip, as if maybe he didn't like the question. But it wasn't his family's ranch.
The stranger's eyes slid from her up to Laramie. "I'm lookin' for someone I heard tell rides for the brand."
"Why?"
"Figured I might have some business with him."
"What kind of business could you have that you couldn't visit during the day? Why wait until night?"
Laramie was definitely nudging her.
The stranger laughed at her protector. "She sure does know how to fan them questions, don't she?"
When Laramie said 'Yes," his chest vibrated under Victoria's fingertips. Where her cheek pressed against his ribs, she could hear the comforting sound of his heartbeat.
"Miss, you may have a point," agreed the stranger. "I guess I'll just get word to my friend to meet me in town. Maybe at one of the saloons. You know of any to recommend?"
Her? She drew a breath to protest the insult, but then Laramie answered, "The Red Light."
So maybe the stranger hadn't been asking her at all.
Victoria corrected him anyway. "I've heard that's not a very nice saloon. The Buffalo Bill's the nice one."
When the stranger grinned again, his teeth seemed whiter because the shadows were getting deeper. "This is business for a not-very-nice saloon," he admitted. "So I'll have this feller meet me there. That would be better than sneakin' about on a fine ranch like this, don't you reckon? Less chance of folks ... talkin'."
Folks talking, or her? Victoria could keep secrets; heaven knew she collected enough of them. But she also had responsibilities as a Garrison to be sure that nobody connected with the ranch was doing anything illegal or immoral.
"Who is your friend?" she
Similar Books
