think.” Her lips twitched.
Christian snorted a laugh. Lily held her disgust inside by a thread. Moses moved to open the front door, his face neutral, his eyes too amused for Lily’s comfort.
“Next time. ” Christian put on his gloves and touched the brim of his hat to Hattie. “We’ll make an occasion out of it.”
Lily stepped out onto the porch. The frosty Montana air enveloped her. It was such a sharp contrast to her overheated body that she gulped for breath.
“Good evening ,” she said her final farewell. She turned to stomp down the steps to fetch her horse from the back of Christian’s wagon.
“Hold on a second there!” Christian caught up to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Untying my horse,” she told him.
“Why bother. Let me drive you home. I have to return Michael’s wagon anyhow.”
“No thank you.”
Try as she did to work loose the knot he’d used to tie the horse to the wagon, her hands shook too hard. She gave up with a huff.
“Would you be so kind as to return the horse to Peterman’s livery.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but spun on her heel and charged off down the road. The impersonal homes on either side of her with their bright windows and cozy lives only furthered her irritation.
“Lily, wait!”
Christian scrambled after her, slipping on the fresh snow under a streetlight. She ignored him, tucking her hands under her arms.
“Wait! Singing Bird!”
She stopped dead, turning to face him, trembling with fury.
“You have no right—”
“Why don’t you let me walk you home? I’m sure someone will keep an eye on the wagon for me.”
She marveled at his arrogance. He had no idea how infuriating he was.
A touch of inspiration hit her. She clasped her hands behind her back and plastered on a smile. “Why certainly, Mr. Avery. Walk me home.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He took a few steps but stopped when she didn’t move.
“I said let’s go.”
“Certainly.” She nodded. “You lead the way.”
Christian huffed out a breath and shifted his weight , catching on. “Where do you live?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Lily arched an eyebrow.
“No, I do not. ” He matched her smarmy tone.
“Imagine that,” she said, shaking her head and marching off ahead of him. “Christian Avery, Justice of the Peace, rushing to stick his nose into something he knows nothing about.”
Christian was silent. Lily charged on, hoping that at last he would leave her alone. She heard the shuffle of his feet behind her, but nothing he could say would make her turn around.
“You are one hell of a—”
A sharp crack of gunfire cut through the night. The suddenness of the noise froze Lily in her spot, heart in her throat. She cowered as the front door of the house to her right banged open.
T wo men in buckskin coats with bandanas over their faces pushed out into the front garden. Each of them held a sack in one hand and a pistol in the other. One of them fired a shot into the house before rushing towards the gate in the garden fence. The shot was met by a woman’s scream. More shots followed, whizzing inches past Lily’s head.
Christian threw his arms around her, yanking her out of the street as the gunmen charged at them. His grip was tight and protective. Lily buried her face against the soft wool of his coat. More gunshots. Christian’s chest heaved with quick, alarmed breaths. His arms squeezed her close. The gunmen shouted, but their words were indistinct over the muffled panic ringing in Lily’s ears. Or was that Christian’s hand cradling her head?
With a strange rush of heat, her tension evaporated. Christian held her. She wouldn’t fall, she couldn’t be hurt. He wouldn’t let that happen. Somehow she knew that.
She took a deep breath , tobacco and cedar, then summoned the courage to look up over Christian’s shoulder at the scene around them. The gunmen slipped on the snowy street only a few yards from
Christian snorted a laugh. Lily held her disgust inside by a thread. Moses moved to open the front door, his face neutral, his eyes too amused for Lily’s comfort.
“Next time. ” Christian put on his gloves and touched the brim of his hat to Hattie. “We’ll make an occasion out of it.”
Lily stepped out onto the porch. The frosty Montana air enveloped her. It was such a sharp contrast to her overheated body that she gulped for breath.
“Good evening ,” she said her final farewell. She turned to stomp down the steps to fetch her horse from the back of Christian’s wagon.
“Hold on a second there!” Christian caught up to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Untying my horse,” she told him.
“Why bother. Let me drive you home. I have to return Michael’s wagon anyhow.”
“No thank you.”
Try as she did to work loose the knot he’d used to tie the horse to the wagon, her hands shook too hard. She gave up with a huff.
“Would you be so kind as to return the horse to Peterman’s livery.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but spun on her heel and charged off down the road. The impersonal homes on either side of her with their bright windows and cozy lives only furthered her irritation.
“Lily, wait!”
Christian scrambled after her, slipping on the fresh snow under a streetlight. She ignored him, tucking her hands under her arms.
“Wait! Singing Bird!”
She stopped dead, turning to face him, trembling with fury.
“You have no right—”
“Why don’t you let me walk you home? I’m sure someone will keep an eye on the wagon for me.”
She marveled at his arrogance. He had no idea how infuriating he was.
A touch of inspiration hit her. She clasped her hands behind her back and plastered on a smile. “Why certainly, Mr. Avery. Walk me home.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He took a few steps but stopped when she didn’t move.
“I said let’s go.”
“Certainly.” She nodded. “You lead the way.”
Christian huffed out a breath and shifted his weight , catching on. “Where do you live?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Lily arched an eyebrow.
“No, I do not. ” He matched her smarmy tone.
“Imagine that,” she said, shaking her head and marching off ahead of him. “Christian Avery, Justice of the Peace, rushing to stick his nose into something he knows nothing about.”
Christian was silent. Lily charged on, hoping that at last he would leave her alone. She heard the shuffle of his feet behind her, but nothing he could say would make her turn around.
“You are one hell of a—”
A sharp crack of gunfire cut through the night. The suddenness of the noise froze Lily in her spot, heart in her throat. She cowered as the front door of the house to her right banged open.
T wo men in buckskin coats with bandanas over their faces pushed out into the front garden. Each of them held a sack in one hand and a pistol in the other. One of them fired a shot into the house before rushing towards the gate in the garden fence. The shot was met by a woman’s scream. More shots followed, whizzing inches past Lily’s head.
Christian threw his arms around her, yanking her out of the street as the gunmen charged at them. His grip was tight and protective. Lily buried her face against the soft wool of his coat. More gunshots. Christian’s chest heaved with quick, alarmed breaths. His arms squeezed her close. The gunmen shouted, but their words were indistinct over the muffled panic ringing in Lily’s ears. Or was that Christian’s hand cradling her head?
With a strange rush of heat, her tension evaporated. Christian held her. She wouldn’t fall, she couldn’t be hurt. He wouldn’t let that happen. Somehow she knew that.
She took a deep breath , tobacco and cedar, then summoned the courage to look up over Christian’s shoulder at the scene around them. The gunmen slipped on the snowy street only a few yards from
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