Seven

Amanda fought her attacker with all her might, ineffectually flailing away with both fists. Then, realizing her nails and teeth were better weapons, she raked his neck, even as she bit down hard and got a mouth filled with the taste of her attacker’s leather glove for her trouble. She struggled to free herself from his solid, muscular body. He had pinned her to the ground by straddling her. She went completely still, hoping to surprise him, but he hauled her to her feet, leaving her hat in the dirt and her hair falling free of the pins she’d used to hide it under the crown of the Stetson.

“Amanda?” Seth Grover was breathing hard and staring down at her, one hand still holding the front of her shirt. She took pride in the realization that she’d put up enough of a fight to leave the man breathless. On the other hand, he was practically touching her breasts, which were heaving noticeably after the exertion.

“Explain yourself, Mr. Grover,” she demanded as she planted both hands flat on the solid wall of his chest and shoved him away. He let go, but the sound of fabric ripping told her he’d taken the top buttons of the shirt with him. When she saw his eyes riveted on her exposed skin, she covered herself with crossed hands and felt heat race through her body. “Well?” she hissed, aware that they were standing outside, and anyone might pass by or hear them.

“I thought…are you following me, Amanda?”

“Do not flatter yourself, Seth. Miss Jensen might keep tabs on you, but your comings and goings are of no interest to me whatsoever.” She dusted off the seat of her pants, then realized she’d once again exposed herself to him by letting go of her shirt front. “A gentleman would avert his eyes,” she said, “or at the very least offer a lady the cover of his coat.”

He chuckled. “Have to say I’m not much of a gentleman, ma’am, but if you’re feeling a chill…” He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders, allowing his hands to linger until she stepped out of reach.

“Thank you.” She bent to retrieve her hat and slapped it against her thigh as she’d seen her father, brothers, and cowboys at the ranch do more times than she could count. The gesture made her feel tougher and taller at the same time. She shook her hair back from her face and planted the hat, tugging at the brim until the fit was snug. “I’ll leave your coat outside your room. Good evening, Seth.”

“I’ll walk you back.” He fell into step beside her. “Shall we take the street or the alley?”

He was mocking her. She remained silent but picked up the pace.

“Oh, then we’re going to race back?” He matched her step for step, an easy feat given his long legs.

“Will you please…”

He took hold of her arm, forcing her to stop walking. “I am not leaving you alone, Amanda. You shouldn’t be out at this time of night.” His tone bordered on patronizing. He sounded like her brother Jess, and that irritated her.

“Why do you care?” she snapped and meant it to be a challenge, but found that she really wanted him to tell her. “You hardly know me.”

He was still holding her upper arm. She could feel the heat of his fingers through the coat and realized he’d removed the leather gloves. While she processed this thought, he led her to a small lane that passed between the pharmacy and the milliner’s shop. There he took hold of her other arm and pulled her closer.

She was sure he planned to kiss her. She was also sure that she had never wanted anything in her life quite as much as she wanted to find out what kissing Seth Grover might be like. Here, at last, was the true adventure she’d come to Tucson to find.

“Listen to me, Amanda. You’re looking for trouble, and I won’t always be around to make sure you don’t find it, so fair warning. You need to stop these midnight wanderings. You need to stop getting yourself dressed up to look like a boy. You need to…”

So, kissing her was clearly the last thing on his mind.

She wrenched herself free of his hold. Not that he fought to hold on. “I can take care of myself,” she muttered as she massaged her arms, although his touch had been firm but gentle.

“Really?”

“Really,” she snapped, and started to walk away.

He caught her hand, and then before she knew what was happening, she was pressed up against the side of the building by the length of his body. He had his other hand over her mouth again—this time without his glove. His skin smelled like leather though. She struggled, and he tightened his hold on her. His face was so close she could feel his breath, hot against her cheeks.

“Wake up, Amanda. You are no longer residing on your family’s ranch where no doubt you had others looking out for you. You are alone here in Tucson, and you need to take care.” He removed his hand from her mouth but did not back away. “Honestly, woman, you can be the most…”

Amanda had no idea what came over her. Maybe she just wanted him to stop telling her what she already knew. She cupped his face with her hands and kissed him.

And then suddenly, he was kissing her back, gathering her into his arms. He pulled away for only a brief moment, looked at her, shook his head as if fighting off a notion, and then kissed her in a way she had never experienced. He teased her by nibbling her lower lip, and when she moved to have her lips meet his head-on, she felt his tongue brushing against her lips and teeth. She gasped, melting as he placed one hand behind her head, drawing her closer still.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, yet ended far too soon. When he pulled away a second time, actually moving a step away, their breaths came in gasps, as if they had run a race. “Amanda,” he said softly, as he leaned in to kiss her again.

This was getting out of hand. She ducked free of his hold and scampered away, fighting to collect her wits. “As I was saying, Seth Grover, I can take care of myself.”

She ran all the way back to the boardinghouse, listening for his footsteps following, but realizing he had given up without a chase. The truth was, he had made his point. How easily he had subdued her. She shuddered to think what a less scrupulous man might have done before she could get free, and by the time she had crept to the top of the stairs and reached the safety of her room, she was trembling so much that she had to sit down. But her thoughts quickly turned to the kiss. No longer would she need to fantasize about what kissing Seth Grover might be like. Now when she closed her eyes, she had that moment to relive, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, she was not alone in Tucson. She had Seth Grover watching out for her.

She pulled Seth’s coat tight around her as shaking turned to laughter, and she lay back on her bed, savoring the scent of him surrounding her as she covered herself with his coat.

* * *

Seth swore as Amanda dashed off, but he knew she’d done the right thing. One more kiss and…

He watched until he saw her enter the boardinghouse, then returned to the livery to try and sleep. But he lay awake imagining all sorts of things that might have happened had she encountered one of the ruffians that frequented the saloon.

If he was going to be completely honest with himself, then he had to admit that he had wanted to kiss her pretty much from the minute he’d revealed her identity. And then she surprised him by taking that first step.

“Admit it, Grover. You’ve been thinking about kissing her since you first laid eyes on her back in Whitman Falls,” he muttered, disgusted with himself for letting her get to him in more ways than one. With a growl of frustration, he left the livery and walked back to the boardinghouse.

He couldn’t figure it out. She was pretty, all right, but that had never been the deciding thing for Seth when it came to a woman. He’d seen women a lot more beautiful than Amanda Porterfield. Hell, he’d had women more beautiful, and more worldly. Amanda was an innocent when it came to how things went between a man and a woman. He’d bet everything he owned on that. Sure, she’d been raised on a ranch, so she had to have some idea of the mechanics. Even so, the mating of animals was a far cry from the elements of heart and mind that passed between a man and a woman while making love. No way she understood that.

But if she insisted on taking these midnight walks and thinking she could handle herself, she was going to learn—and it was likely to be a hard lesson. It was likely to be a lesson that could destroy her.

That thought pulled him up short. This business of thinking so much about Amanda distracted him from the real reason he’d come out here tonight: to confront whoever had been following him.

It wasn’t Amanda—he was sure of that, but having gotten himself mixed up in trying to talk sense into her, he’d forgotten all about whoever it might be. That was dangerous, and if there was one thing Seth was good at, it was his job.

In the years he had worked for Wells Fargo, not once had anyone unveiled his true identity. Time to concentrate on the job he was in Tucson to do. At sunup he would head to the abandoned ranch, find a spot where he wouldn’t be seen, set up camp, and observe the place for activity. Miss Dooley wouldn’t be happy about him missing breakfast and supper without giving proper notice, but so be it. It was high time he got back to work.

He used his key to open the front door of the boardinghouse and took the stairs two at a time. His coat was hanging on the doorknob of his room, and before he could stop himself, he had lifted it to his face, hoping to catch the scent of Amanda lingering there.

* * *

“You were certainly up late last night, Miss Porterfield,” Lucinda Jensen said at breakfast the following morning. “I do hope you weren’t ill.”

Amanda had finally pulled herself together enough to return Seth’s coat and wash away the dirt, grime, and tears in the shared bathroom. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she said, refusing to offer any explanation.

“So you are not ill?”

“I am fine. Thank you for asking.” Amanda turned her attention to their landlady. “Miss Dooley, you seem to know everyone in the area. I am still seeking a gentleman who enjoys baseball. The Baxter boy is quite a fan of the game, and I am convinced that encouraging that could also inspire him to take his studies more seriously.”

“His father should be the one to work with him on that,” Miss Dooley replied.

Ollie Taylor snorted. “Ezra Baxter wouldn’t know a baseball from a wad of chewing tobacky.”

“I thought Mr. Grover had volunteered,” Mrs. Rosewood murmured.

“He seems to have once again been called away on business,” Amanda replied. “I need someone I can rely upon to work with the boy over the next several weeks.”

Miss Dooley frowned. “Well, there’s Jim Matthews. He owns the drugstore across from the courthouse. I suppose you could ask him.”

For the first time since kissing Seth the night before, Amanda accepted that she had probably made a fool of herself. Moving forward with her part on the jailhouse project was just what she needed to distract her from that fiasco. “I need to introduce myself anyway,” she said. “He’s been working with Dr. Porterfield on the jail reforms, and now that I’ll be standing in for Addie…”

“Are you saying, Miss Porterfield, that it is your intention to actually work with prisoners in the jail?” Mrs. Rosewood asked. It was evident she did not approve, and it was obvious that Lucinda Jensen seconded her disapproval.

“Yes. In a few weeks, my position with the Baxter children will come to an end, and I have promised to help Dr. Porterfield while she takes care of a family matter.”

“Yes, we are all saddened to hear of her father’s illness,” Mrs. Rosewood continued, “but really, Miss Porterfield, have you thought about how your working with those people might affect the rest of us?”

“Clearly not. Please enlighten me,” Amanda said tightly. Oh, how she wished Seth had not skipped breakfast. As relieved as she had been when Miss Dooley announced he had left a note stating his intention to be away for a few days, now she wished he were here to stand with her.

“The prisoners are filthy, and they no doubt carry disease. Certainly, those women held there do, and…”

“Hold on just a durn-tooting minute,” Ollie exploded. “The girls over at the Blue Parrot are clean as—”

“Stop this right now!” Miss Dooley shouted. Then she turned her attention to Amanda. “Do you see what you’ve done? If you hadn’t insisted on conversation at meals, nothing like this would happen.” She looked around the table. “Forthwith, there will be no conversation at meals. This is my house, and I will decide what we will and will not do. Anyone who takes issue with that is free to find other accommodations.” This last was directed at Amanda.

“Please excuse me,” Amanda said. She knew she had to leave the room or risk saying something that would get her banished from the house altogether.

She collected her satchel and cloak and crossed the yard to the rear entrance of the Baxter property. Kitty was scrubbing a man’s shirt on the washboard she kept with the laundry supplies outside the kitchen door. “Well, you look like a horse that’s been rode hard and put away wet,” she said, pausing to study Amanda’s flushed face and clenched hands.

“What do you know about Jim Matthews?”

“The druggist? Good man. His wife walked out on him and their four young’uns when the oldest was not yet seven. He’s raised three boys to be upstanding citizens, two of them ranching and the third running his own business over in Phoenix. The girl, Ginny, is of age to marry, but prefers to help at the drugstore and write articles for the local paper now and again. Why?”

Amanda repeated what she’d told the others about needing to meet the man so they could continue the work Addie had begun for reforms at the jail. “And I understand he might know a thing or two about baseball.”

Kitty paused in her scrubbing, stared at Amanda for a long moment, and then chuckled. “Don’t know where my brain is these days. Shoulda seen this one a week or more ago.”

“So you think asking him to work with Eli on the rudiments of the game is a good idea?”

“What I think, missy, is that you and Jim Matthews make the perfect match, and if it takes asking him to come over here and play ball with Eli to get things started, then that’s a great idea.”

“Kitty, be serious. If I have any hope of getting Eli to the point where he will pass those entrance examinations, I need to do something. My hope is that I can use baseball as a reward to inspire him to work harder.”

Kitty frowned and returned to her scrubbing. “Well, the way I see it, you won’t have much of a problem. That is, not until Mr. Baxter realizes things might go beyond Matthews coming over to pitch a ball or two with his son.”

“Do Mr. Baxter and Mr. Matthews not get along?”

Kitty looked at her with a sly grin. “Oh, they do now, but once Mr. Baxter realizes he’s in competition with Jim Matthews for your affections, things could get ugly fast.”

Amanda sighed. “You are no help at all,” she grumbled as she entered the house and went straight to the library. Eli and Ellie were arguing about something in heated words and hoarse whispers.

“I’m telling you what I heard,” Ellie said.

“And whatever it was you heard, Ellie, I do hope it was firsthand, because repeating information you were not directly privy to is gossip.”

“I heard Father ask you to marry him,” Ellie shot back.

“You’re lyin’,” Eli said.

Amanda set down her satchel and faced Ellie. “The only habit that is at least as bad as gossiping, young lady, is eavesdropping.”

“You’re sayin’ it’s true?” Eli shouted.

“Do not raise your voice to me, Eli. What your sister overheard was a private conversation between your father and me. And if she wishes to pursue the matter further, then she will do so with her father. Understood?” She removed the Bible from her satchel and set it down firmly in the middle of the table. “Our Father…” she began, and paused while the twins halfheartedly bowed their heads and joined in. Their recitation of the Lord’s Prayer was no more than a series of mumbled words, but Amanda decided to let it pass.

She turned to the chalkboard and posted the day’s work. The first item on the list was book report. To her delight, both Ellie and Eli were prepared—not only prepared, but enthusiastic. She had chosen well, and that made her set aside the events of the night before and the upsetting incident at breakfast. Ellie had clearly fallen in love with the character of Jo March and admitted that she had stayed up late into the night to finish the book. As Amanda listened to Eli give a veritable treatise on the game of baseball as illustrated in Chadwick’s book, she decided she would go to the drugstore while the twins had their lunch with Kitty. No doubt Kitty would give this plan her blessing, although her purpose and Amanda’s were quite different.

To her delight, it occurred to her after meeting Jim Matthews and his daughter Ginny that introducing the Baxter twins would be a victory on two levels. Ginny was Jo March come to life and would be a wonderful role model for Ellie. Jim Matthews was a gentle soul who laughed easily and, apparently, was as devoted to the game of baseball as Eli. When Amanda asked if they would be willing to work with the twins, they enthusiastically agreed.

“You go now,” Ginny instructed her father. “I can manage here. The afternoons are always slow.” She fairly pushed them out the door.

On the walk back to the house, Amanda brought up the jail reform project. She told Jim about the feelings of the other boarders—or at least the women. He was a good listener, and she had expressed more outrage than she’d intended by the time they reached the Baxter house.

“I apologize,” she said. “Usually, I can control my tongue, but—”

“Not at all,” Jim interrupted. “It’s refreshing to hear someone speak their true feelings.” He grinned. “Especially when they are so in line with my own.”

Amanda laughed. “And it is doubly refreshing to talk so freely. I’m afraid I was raised to speak my mind, but I have discovered that doing so when your audience is family and doing so among strangers is very different.”

“Well, then, let’s be clear about one thing, Miss Porterfield—it seems we have a good deal in common. Both unafraid to say what we think. Both friends with Addie. Both dedicated to making the world a better place. And—if I do this right—my guess is by the time I’m finished talking baseball with the twins, you’ll be a fan of the game as well.” He stuck out his hand. “Friends?”

Amanda laughed and shook his hand. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “I mean, as long as you don’t hold me to that baseball part.”

He chuckled, and she found she liked it. She realized there was a lot to like about Jim Matthews, from the way his straight sandy hair fell over his forehead, to how he matched his long-legged pace to her smaller steps, to his smile, and the twinkle in his eyes. She liked that she didn’t feel unsettled around him.

Maybe Kitty had the right idea. She certainly hadn’t given Seth Grover a thought since meeting the druggist—unless she counted comparing the two men for all the ways Seth was different.

* * *

When Seth returned to town two days later, he deliberately timed his arrival so breakfast at the boardinghouse would be done, and everyone living there would be off doing whatever they did during the day. He climbed the stairs after asking Bessie to let Miss Dooley know he was back, but he might sleep through supper, so not to count on him.

On his way to his room, he glanced at Amanda’s closed door and imagined her standing at the chalkboard in the Baxter house next door, lecturing the twins on something or other. He was glad, and at the same time disappointed that he would probably not see her until breakfast the following morning.

On the other hand, he’d discovered something that could affect her while scouting out the abandoned ranch. Both nights he spent there, he had observed the Baxter boy ride that way in the hours just before dawn. The boy slid from his horse and went inside the cabin for less than a minute, then mounted, gave a whistle, and rode back toward town. Both times Seth had waited for someone to show up at the cabin to retrieve whatever the boy had left there. Both times he’d observed an old prospector with a pack mule enter the cabin and leave again.

Between the kid’s leaving and the prospector’s arrival, there was no time for Seth to risk checking the cabin. He’d have to come back later. He thought of tailing the prospector—it would be easy enough—but he felt certain that there were others watching all of this as he was, and he didn’t dare reveal his position, so he stayed put.

When there was no further action over the next two days, he decided his best bet was to return to town, corner the Baxter boy, and see what he knew. He was frustrated with the lack of progress, and as he rode back to town, the thing most on his mind was a hot bath and several hours of uninterrupted sleep. He was truly grateful that Miss Dooley’s father had installed running water and a claw-foot tub long enough to accommodate his six-foot frame.

After soaking until the water turned gray and tepid, he dried himself off, wrapped the towel around his hips, and prepared to shave the beard he’d grown while on the trail. The bathroom had a small window that overlooked the Baxters’ backyard, and when Seth heard an unfamiliar voice shout “Strike one!” he raised the window enough to give him a view.

The very proper Amanda Porterfield was standing at one corner of the yard, a baseball bat resting on her shoulder. The housekeeper stood on first base, the daughter was out in the field, the boy was pitching, and James Matthews, the local druggist, crouched behind Amanda in the catcher’s position. Matthews was also the one calling the plays.

“Strike two,” he shouted as Amanda took a mighty swing that missed the ball by several inches.

Matthews placed Amanda’s hands closer together on the handle of the bat, then stood behind her—far too close to be proper, as far as Seth was concerned—and pantomimed swinging the bat.

“Keep your eye on the ball, Miss Porterfield,” Matthews instructed as he assumed his catcher’s crouch. Seth felt jealousy roll through him like a desert dust storm.

Amanda nodded. Seth could not see her features clearly, but everything about her posture told him she was determined not to miss again. Eli Baxter took his stance, glanced over his shoulder at his sister, and then back at Amanda, then fired a fastball toward Matthews.

Crack! The unmistakable sound of wood connecting with the leather of the ball seemed to startle everyone, most of all Amanda, who stood frozen in place, the bat dangling from one hand.

“Run!” Matthews instructed as the housekeeper rounded second, and the Baxter girl scrambled to retrieve the ball, juggling it and dropping it twice before succeeding. By that time, the housekeeper had headed for home, and Amanda had gathered her skirts in one hand, exposing more of her calves above her high-buttoned shoes than anyone would think proper, and she too was headed for home plate.

Eli Baxter pleaded with his sister to throw the ball, while Matthews and the housekeeper urged Amanda to score. The Baxter girl might not have been much of a fielder, but she had a good arm, and her pitch to her brother arced high against the blue sky.

Jim Matthews stood, his shirtsleeves rolled back to expose his forearms, his light hair blowing in the hot breeze as he watched Amanda race toward home—and him. Eli held out his glove, and the ball plopped into it. He turned to tag Amanda, but she had flown past him and straight into the waiting arms of the druggist.

Even though Seth understood that Matthews was only making sure that Amanda didn’t fall, to his way of thinking the man held onto her a lot longer than necessary. And what about the fact that Amanda had asked Seth to play ball with the Baxter kid?

Three sharp knocks sounded on the bathroom door, followed by the rattling of the knob, and Ollie Taylor’s irritated voice asking, “You drown in there, Grover? A guy’s gotta take a leak.”

“One minute,” Seth replied as he scrubbed the remaining lather from his face and pulled on a pair of jeans before unlocking the door.

“Hotter than hell in here,” Ollie grumbled as he brushed past Seth and shut the door. Seconds later, he heard Ollie shout, “Hold it down, will ya? Some of us have to work tonight.” The window slammed shut, silencing the sounds from the yard next door. But nothing could shut out the image of Amanda looking at Jim Matthews and laughing as the druggist assured her she was safe.

Seth lay down on the cool sheets of his bed. Even though his room was at the front of the boardinghouse, away from the Baxter property, with the window open he could hear the faint aftermath of the game—the boy chiding his sister, the housekeeper suggesting cold lemonade, and most of all, Amanda’s laughter. The likelihood that he would get any sleep now was probably not good. On top of that, he could smell the chicken and peppers Bessie was preparing for supper. He wondered if she’d told Miss Dooley he was back. He wondered if he might be able to change his mind about joining the others for the meal. He wondered if he would be able to eat while listening to Amanda regale everyone with details of the baseball game.

Later, when he reached the dining room, he needn’t have worried about the evening’s conversation. There was none. He glanced around the table and saw everyone focused on the food. Bessie came and went, removing dishes and bringing dessert. Ollie muttered something and left for work. Mrs. Rosewood went to her room. Miss Jensen tried to gain his attention, but Amanda kept her eyes on her dish of butterscotch pudding, scraping the last remnants of the dessert from the sides of the small glass bowl before dabbing her napkin to the corners of her mouth and standing.

“Lovely meal, Miss Dooley,” she said. “I think I’ll take a short walk before turning in.”

Seth saw his chance and hastily devoured the rest of his dessert before rising as well. By the time he grabbed his hat and reached the street, Amanda was at least a block ahead of him. She walked with purpose, nodding to the few people she passed along the way. He had crossed the street to keep her in view and was about to break into a trot to catch up when he realized she was not just out for a walk. She was entering the drugstore—Jim Matthews’s drugstore. As soon as she was inside, someone—Jim, he assumed—shut the door and turned the sign that dangled from a string to read Closed.

Seth slowed his pace to a stroll. He crossed the street again, mostly deserted at this time of day, and continued down a side street. As he passed the alley behind the row of shops, he noticed the back door to the drugstore was open. It wouldn’t hurt to check on her—to be sure Matthews wasn’t taking advantage.

He edged his way closer to the rear entrance and heard Amanda’s laugh. There was another female voice, and he realized that Jim’s daughter Ginny was also inside. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I’m sure Mr. Grover…” The rest was lost to the sound of a wagon rattling by on the side street. By the time the creaking vehicle passed, Ginny was the one talking. Her voice was high-pitched with excitement, and again he heard Amanda laugh. “Slow down,” she said.

So this was a meeting to plan something—but what? Knowing Amanda, she was about to place herself and Matthews and his daughter in some situation that could turn dangerous in a hurry. Should he make his presence known? Act as if he’d just been passing by and thought maybe he might buy an after-hours sarsaparilla to ease the lingering heat of the day?

How about tending to your own business, Grover? How about concentrating on the fact that something is going down soon, and you don’t yet know what it is? How about you stop mooning over Amanda Porterfield and do your damn job?

Resolutely, he turned away from the shop and headed back to the boardinghouse. He would leave Amanda a note about the Baxter kid’s midnight ventures then collect his jacket—and his gun. Not once since coming to Tucson had he forgotten to strap on his gun belt whenever he left the boardinghouse…until now. This fascination with Amanda had to stop before he got himself shot.

* * *

As she joined the others for breakfast the following morning, Amanda used the silence to recall her meeting with Jim and his daughter the evening before. She had no doubt that Jim Matthews was the kind of man her mother would think of as a perfect match. “Opposites attract,” Constance Porterfield often preached to her four children. “Just look at your father and me—two more different people never walked this earth, and yet never was there a love story like ours.”

It seemed ever since Amanda’s father died, her mother had been on a mission to find proper matches for her children, Chet for Maria, and Addie for Jess. Now Amanda supposed it was her turn. And the truth was she found Jim appealing—as a friend, and someone with whom she could discuss anything. She knew that working with him on the jail reform project would not only be productive, but also fun. He had great ideas, and his daughter Ginny was a fireball of energy. The way he’d immediately agreed to Amanda’s idea of working with Eli on his baseball skills showed him to be a man of kindness. Oh yes, her mother was going to love Jim Matthews.

The problem was that Amanda still spent a good deal of time thinking about Seth. Whenever she was around him, she found herself paying far too much attention to the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, or the way his hands seemed hardened by work, but at the same time could handle one of Miss Dooley’s crystal glasses as the fragile thing it was. His eyes fascinated her—the way he appeared to notice everything without seeming to be looking around. And those dimples! The way he didn’t have to deliver a full-blown smile to bring them to life. She refused to allow herself to consider his mouth, because that inevitably led to images of those lips meeting hers. The way her breath quickened whenever she had such thoughts told her she was unlikely to abandon the memories kissing him stirred.

And that would, of course, be a disaster. A man like Seth Grover had no doubt made love to a string of women. He certainly would not be satisfied with a couple of kisses.

“Are you unwell again, Miss Porterfield?”

Amanda roused herself from her thoughts when Mrs. Rosewood dared raise this question in spite of the mandate not to speak during meals. Everyone around the breakfast table looked up from their plates and stared at her.

“Because you are quite flushed, my dear,” Mrs. Rosewood continued. “I do hope you will have the good sense to isolate yourself if you are coming down with something—no doubt something you picked up from those children or your new friends at the jail.”

For an instant, Amanda’s gaze settled on Seth. He was watching her intently, a slight frown marring his handsome features. Did he agree with the widow? Was he afraid she might be carrying some malady that could infect him and the others?

“I am well,” she murmured, embarrassed to have attention called to her, especially when she was all too aware that any rosiness in her cheeks had been brought on by thoughts of kissing Seth. Well, what else was a girl to do but daydream when normal conversation had been banned? “If you will all excuse me, I have a busy day ahead of me,” she announced as she stood and placed her napkin on her chair, then left the room. As she climbed the stairs, she could hear the others speculating on her health.

“Did you not think she looked feverish, Mr. Grover?” Mrs. Rosewood demanded.

Amanda paused on the stairs, curious in spite of herself to hear Seth’s reply. “I find Miss Porterfield to be one of the liveliest and most energetic people I’ve ever met,” he said. “Perhaps, as she said, the tasks ahead of her today were on her mind and caused her some momentary discomfort.”

Good heavens, the man was talking about her as if she were livestock—lively and energetic, indeed. She heard Miss Dooley clear her throat, a definite signal that this particular discussion was at an end. In the ensuing silence, Amanda went to her room, shut the door, and sat on the edge of her bed trying to control her ire at Seth’s analysis of her.

She saw the folded piece of paper lying just inside the door and immediately recognized the handwriting as Seth’s. “What now?” she muttered as she bent to collect the note.

We need to talk. Name a time and place. S

Who did he think he was? Did he really think she would dance to his tune? Well, she wouldn’t.

She unfolded the paper fully and noticed an addendum.

It’s about the Baxter boy.

What could Seth have to tell her about Eli? He’d already passed along Ollie’s warning, and indeed, Amanda was aware of Eli’s mischievous side, which bordered on something far more serious. But getting him involved with Jim Matthews might be the solution she had hoped for. Eli now came to class with his homework done, and he fully participated in the work she assigned. Of course, that was because she held out the carrot of time for baseball worked into the day’s schedule.

She turned the paper over, just in case Seth had provided other information. The back was blank. She refolded the note and tapped it against her palm. She really could not afford to ignore Seth, if indeed he had information about Eli.

Tomorrow was Sunday and her day off. She had planned to rent a horse and ride back to the ranch to surprise her family. At breakfast, she would state her intention and hope that Seth picked up on the hint.

Sure enough, she had barely left Tucson behind on the following morning when she saw a lone rider coming across the desert. The man was dressed in black, but this was not Seth. This man was larger, heavier. Once again, she had allowed her impulsive nature to overrule her common sense. She thought of Seth’s warning that night he’d found her walking alone.

She spurred her mount and the roan took off at a trot. She had foolishly believed that dressing in her brother’s clothes might allow her to pass anyone she might meet unnoticed. But that had not exactly worked that night in town. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the stranger spot her and turn his mount in her direction. Her heart pounded as she tried to decide what to do.

She knew that Fort Lowell was only a couple of miles away, but the other rider was closing in on her. “Oh please, let someone come,” she whispered as she urged the horse to a full gallop.

Her prayers were answered when she saw a prospector walking across the range, leading a pack mule. She turned her horse and rode toward him.

“Hello!” she called, then immediately realized the need to lower the tone of her voice, if she was going to be seen as a boy.

The prospector looked at her and then at the rider coming her way. He waved, but it was not a greeting. He seemed to be waving her away, as if to warn her. She hesitated, saw the other rider turn toward the prospector, and used the opportunity to ride away as fast and as far as she could get from the two men.

Still, she was not so far away that she missed hearing the single gunshot, and when she looked back, she saw the prospector lying on the ground, and the other rider headed back the way he’d come. Amanda reined in her horse.

She felt bile rise in her throat and her entire body shook. A man had been shot. What should she do? Her instinct was to go to the prospector’s aid. But what if the other rider came back?

Well, she couldn’t just leave the man lying there. She turned her horse’s head and rode back to where the prospector lay moaning, blood pouring from the shot that had hit him in the chest. “Oh no, you don’t,” she muttered as she slid from her horse and ran to him. “You are not going to die if I can help it, do you understand?”

The man opened his eyes, then smiled and closed them again. “Made it straight to heaven,” he whispered.

“Not yet, you didn’t,” Amanda grumbled as she searched for something she could use to stem the flow of blood. She pulled the prospector’s blanket free of his pack mule and wadded it into as tight a ball as she could, then shoved it against the wound, the way she’d once seen her father do when one of their horses had gotten tangled in a barbed wire fence. The man let out a yelp of pain that echoed across the barren land.

“Sorry.” She sat back on her haunches and saw dust in the distance—a sure sign of somebody coming their way. She prayed it was not the shooter returning.

“Lie still,” she instructed the man. “Help is on the way.” She hoped she wasn’t mistaken as she shielded her eyes with one hand and waited for the dust to clear. It was a wagon, so not Seth—or the shooter.

“Stay put,” she said again as she mounted her horse and headed toward the wagon, praying the vehicle did not represent even more danger. She was thinking of her father, who had been left to die alone, and she no longer saw the prospector lying there. She saw her father.

“Help!” she shouted as she rode toward the wagon. “We need help.”

To her relief, the wagon slowed, then turned in her direction. Two people were on the seat, one of them female. Surely, that was good. Amanda let out a breath. “Over here!” she shouted.

As the wagon came closer, she realized the driver was Jim Matthews, and Ginny was with him. She felt her breathing steady for the first time since she’d spotted the rider in black. She jerked off her hat and waved it high above her head. “He’s been shot,” she shouted, pointing to the prospector. “He needs a doctor.”

Jim pulled his team to a halt and leapt down to examine the situation. “What on earth happened?” he asked as he checked the man’s shallow breathing and instructed Ginny to bring him the tablecloth from their picnic basket. Amanda filled him in on the bare details.

“If we could lift him into your wagon, we’re closer to Whitman Falls, and I’m sure Addie could help. Of course, my family’s ranch is even closer, but we’d still have to wait for Addie and…”

“Ginny, you take Amanda’s horse and ride ahead to town and get Addie. Meet us at the Porterfield ranch—Addie will know the way. Amanda, let’s get this old-timer bandaged up as best we can and into the wagon.” He gently pulled the blanket free of the wound, but the man still cried out in pain. “Check his pack, Addie. My guess is there will be a bottle of whiskey in there somewhere.”

She did as he asked and found a full pint-sized bottle to bring him. “Should I try to get him to drink it?”

Jim nodded. “But just as much as it takes for him to pass out. We’ll need the rest to clean the wound.”

Amanda knelt next to the prospector and lifted his head. Eagerly, he sought the bottle, and she had to take care the precious liquid didn’t spill down his chin. “Easy there,” she said softly. Meanwhile, she heard Jim ripping the tablecloth into strips.

“What are you and Ginny doing out here?” she asked as she doled out the whiskey in small sips. To her surprise, Jim smiled.

“Ginny had this idea that we should go on a picnic, and then she suggested we stop by the boardinghouse and see if you might want to join us. When Miss Dooley told us you’d gone home for the day, nothing would satisfy my daughter but that we set off after you. We could be company for you on the ride back to town.”

“And you fell for that?” Amanda said as she recapped the bottle of whiskey and eased the prospector’s head to the ground.

“Let’s just say I didn’t object.”

Their eyes met for a long moment, and Amanda thought again what a good man this was and how she might make a good life with him. “You do understand that Ginny is matchmaking?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, not taking his gaze off her. “Like I said before, I didn’t object.”

The prospector’s loud snore broke the moment, and Amanda passed the whiskey bottle to Jim, who soaked a larger piece of the tablecloth with the potent liquid and pressed it onto the wound. The man startled but did not cry out, so Amanda and Jim wrapped and bandaged the wound with strips of cloth. As they worked, their heads were close together and their hands brushed often. Amanda was aware of Jim’s long fingers, his freshly shaven face, and the scent of piñon soap.

And once again, she could not stop herself from making comparisons—ones that still had Jim Matthews coming out the loser.

* * *

On his way to get his horse and catch up with Amanda, Seth ran into Rusty, the prisoner from the jail.

“Hey, Grover,” Rusty called out. He kept glancing over his shoulder as he skulked close to the shade provided by the shops. He was obviously more than just nervous. The man was scared.

“Rusty.” Seth acknowledged him but kept his tone brusque on purpose. “I see you got off.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t fool me. That sheriff’s got it in for me, so I might as well be dead. And that ain’t all. That stuff I talked to you about? You done anything with that?”

“Look, I have an appointment I need to keep, Rusty. Good seeing you.” Seth attempted to move past the man, but Rusty stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “You need to move now,” Seth told him.

“I’m begging you, man. Take me with you wherever you’re heading. If they see me with you, they’ll think everything’s jack. They been watching you, but the kid they’ve got with them told them he knew you from some jobs pulled back north.”

Seth had to work hard not to react to this bit of information. The man had to be talking about his brother. “Look, I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but my advice would be to put some distance between you and whoever you think might want to see you dead. Other than that, I can’t help you.”

“I helped you—told you what you wanted to know.” The man was near tears.

“You didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.” He pulled some coins from his pocket and pressed them into the man’s palm. “Stagecoach will be through in an hour. I suggest you get yourself a ticket and be on it when it pulls out. Now, let me pass.”

Rusty studied the money. “Okay,” he whispered. “Yeah, okay.”

Seth walked the rest of the way to the livery, where he collected his horse and rode out of town, trying to make up for lost time. He was familiar with the trail that led to Whitman Falls and pretty sure that was where he would catch up to Amanda. Once he did, he intended to tell her about the Baxter boy’s adventures and leave it at that. He had more important work to do than to worry about the banker’s kid. Now that he had his best reason yet to believe that Sam was part of the gang, he needed to focus his attention on making sure his brother didn’t end up dead.

He took a couple shortcuts cross country to lessen the distance between them and ended up riding along the ridge above an arroyo with an expansive view of the countryside. He scanned the horizon, looking for a lone rider. Instead, he saw a wagon plodding along with two people on the seat and somebody curled up in the back. A pack mule was tied to the rear. Since these folks were the only sign of life he’d seen, and they were squarely on the trail Amanda would have taken, he decided to ride down and see if they might have seen her.

But the closer he got, the more familiar the two people sitting up front on the wagon got. He recognized Amanda’s hair first and then realized Jim Matthews was driving the wagon. The whole scene made no sense. Where was Amanda’s horse? Had he misunderstood her message at breakfast? Was she really headed to the ranch—and with the druggist?

Jealousy ate at him like an attack of fire ants. He considered riding on, but when Matthews glanced his way, he decided there was little choice but to meet up with them. Amanda said something to Jim, and then the druggist pulled the wagon to a halt and waved. Seth waved back and kicked his horse to a gallop to make up the distance between them.

“Miss Porterfield ran into a bit of trouble,” Matthews said when Seth came alongside. “Somebody shot the old man back there. We’re headed for the ranch to meet up with my daughter, and hopefully Addie.” He snapped the reins, and the team started forward. Seth and his horse kept pace.

“You found him like this—shot, I mean?” Seth asked, keeping his eyes on Amanda. He’d gotten a better look at the man passed out in the rear of the wagon, recognized the clothing, and knew this was the same man he had seen going into the abandoned shack after the Baxter kid came and went.

“Not exactly,” she replied, squinting and focusing straight ahead as if she were trying to see her way through a dust storm.

Seth remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. Matthews glanced from him to her and back again. “There was a rider who apparently had a beef with the prospector. According to Amanda, he shot the man and rode off.”

“Did he see you?” Seth asked. Again, he was speaking only to her.

“Maybe. I guess.” She shook her head like a horse ridding itself of a pesky fly. “What does it matter? There’s a man back there who’s been shot, and we need to get him help and—”

“Ever occur to you that you might have been the one shot?” He watched as she slowly turned her face to look directly at him.

“Ever occur to you that this is none of your business?” she challenged. “Either help us or—”

Matthews chuckled uncomfortably. “What are you doing out this way, Grover? Come to check on that property over in Whitman Falls?”

Seth took the lifeline. “Exactly,” he said, and grinned at Amanda. “You don’t mind if I ride along with you, do you? It can get pretty lonesome out here.”

If looks could kill, Seth would have been a dead man.