Nineteen

She spent the night on the sofa, fully dressed, in Roan’s arms, where he held her safe and secure. The sound of his heartbeat still lingered in her ear as they dressed and went down to breakfast in the hotel dining room. Roan had already gone out to check on the mare and old man Jessup. There was little change in Jessup’s condition.

Now in the dining room, Marley scanned the patrons for the Wheelers, hoping to confront them, but the couple wasn’t in there. She gave a groan when Sheriff Coburn came through the door and headed toward them.

“Don’t look now but we’re about to have company,” she murmured over her cup of tea.

Worry clenched in her stomach. Given the sheriff’s suspicions about Roan already, in the bright light of day, he was going to figure out Roan’s identity just as sure as she was sitting there. She shot her make-believe husband a glance of admiration. Jack Durham looked very handsome with his hair neatly trimmed and curling around his collar, and he was freshly shaven. He wore his regular clothes today, the outfit that hugged his muscular body in all the right places, awakening the sleeping embers inside her.

“Whatever Coburn says, let me do the talking.” Roan covered her hand with his. His face was grim. “He’s spoiling for a fight. He knows me but can’t place from where, and it’s driving him crazy. If he throws me in jail, I want you to ride as hard as you can for the ranch and don’t look back. Just get somewhere safe.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” It would test her will to ride off and leave him at their mercy. Who knew what they’d do.

“He’s just about here. Promise me, Marley.”

“I promise I’ll ride to get my father and the ranch hands. That’s all I’ll promise.” She set down her teacup and pasted a smile on her face. “Good morning, Sheriff. We’re almost finished, but would you care to join us?”

Coburn sat down, not bothering to reply. He glared at Roan. “I finally placed you. Bet you thought you were pretty smart, waltzing in here wearing that fancy suit like some rich man. You’re no better than Mozeke.”

Roan’s eyes darkened. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I came for the horse race.”

“You came to stir up trouble. You were told never to step foot back in San Saba County.”

“The way you keep saying that with such certainty tells me you were there that night. You ride with the hooded gang. You’re one of them.” Roan removed his hand from hers and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His voice was hard and deadly as he propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You and Will Gentry are bedfellows, no doubt. How much is he paying you to pretend to keep law and order? And how hard are you actually looking for Jessup’s assailant—and ours?”

Coburn’s eyes glittered like stones. “I want you out of my town.”

Hardness filled Roan’s eyes, and his voice was low and lethal. “I’ll leave after the race and not a second before.”

Confusion rippled across the sheriff’s face that someone had the gumption to stand up to him. His gaze shifted to Marley. She lifted her chin and met his cold eyes.

“Where did he find you—some brothel?” Coburn snarled.

A muttered curse left Roan’s mouth and startled her. His hands clenched into fists. If she didn’t do something, he’d reach across the table and grab the jackanapes by the neck and twist his head off.

She laid a hand on Roan’s arm and addressed the despicable man. “I’m Marley Rose McClain. And I assure you, Sheriff, my father, Duel McClain, will tear you limb from limb when he hears about this. He won’t take kindly to having his daughter accused of being a whore.”

Releasing an oath, Coburn got to his feet and slammed his chair against the table before he stomped from the hotel. She didn’t think he’d give them any trouble himself, but she had no doubt he’d send others to do his dirty work.

He can’t afford to let us leave town alive.

That was fine. They’d have to face her Colt. And Roan’s. She’d put her money on them any day.

Roan sat there so silent and still and deadly quiet until the rage drained from him.

“I’m sorry I spoke when you asked me not to.” Marley covered his hand. “I just couldn’t let you take matters into your own hands. Coburn wanted you to attack him, prayed that you would. Then he’d have put you behind bars or shot you.” Marley inhaled a calm breath. “I couldn’t let him do that. Can you just talk to me?”

“What?” he asked.

“I apologized for speaking.” She was confused. If he wasn’t angry about that, then what? “I just couldn’t stay quiet another second when Coburn accused me of being a harlot.”

Roan finally grinned, wiping away the darkness. “I’m proud of you. You certainly gave him something to think about. I got the feeling he doesn’t want to tangle with Duel. I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“Care to share?” she asked softly.

“I was running the horse race in my head, trying to think where all the dangers might be hidden.” He turned to her. “There are places along the route where gunmen could hide. And then there are the other contestants, who’ll stoop to anything to win the race. They’re not above maiming a horse to claim a victory. I don’t care what they do to me, but it would kill me if they hurt my gentle mare. She’s a very special horse and has already seen a lot of pain.”

As had he. Too much pain, in fact.

“Roan, let’s leave and go back home. Please don’t go through with this race.” Home, where they’d be safe from evil men like Gentry and Coburn.

He shook his head. “I’d like for you to consider it, but I’m staying. I have to see this through, even more so now that I need to find out why Gentry wants to take or kill you.”

“You’re crazy to think for one second I’ll leave you here. If you stay, I’m staying. There’s safety in numbers.” But even as she tried to be brave, she found terror sliding up her backbone.

“Marley, they may try to prevent you from competing in the shooting match.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned to brush a kiss across her lips. “Just know that I’ll be there watching for trouble. I’m not going to let them hurt you. They’ll have to go through me, and that’s not going to happen.”

His touch was like magic and soothed her fears. She wasn’t alone and neither was Roan. They had each other, and they were a force to reckon with. Just ask the intruder from last night.

“I guess we need to go,” she said. “The match will begin soon. I have to get my rifle.”

With his hand on the small of her back, they went up to their room. She glanced around the bedroom, her gaze drawn to the broken window. A shiver swept over her. If she hadn’t fired that shot, no telling where she’d be now. Or in whose company.

* * *

Roan leaned against a tree, watching the crowd that had gathered to witness the shooting contest. In particular, he searched for Gentry. One thing he knew: the man would show up. For whatever reason, his fascination with Marley was too strong. So far, Roan hadn’t spotted the man that Virginia Creek had warned him to avoid.

Nor did he see the Wheelers or Wes Douglas, Duel’s former ranch hand.

Marley stood with the other contestants. She was the lone female amid the eight males. She talked with a young man—their waiter from last night—and appeared to have struck up a friendship. Roan admired her easy way with people, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Her dress outlined her lush figure and brought out her brown eyes. The breeze toyed with her dark curls, tossing them this way and that. His arms ached to hold her again as he had the night through.

Although he’d made a show of being irritated over the way she’d gone about pretending to be married, he’d enjoyed having people think they were a couple. Marley’s beauty stole his breath, and he took it as a compliment that she seemed to have developed what she thought was love for him. Maybe it was. That remained to be seen.

How could anyone love a wanderer like him—a drifter with no roots and only one purpose? And one that might get him killed?

Marley Rose McClain could have anyone she wanted. All she had to do was crook her finger at some man and he would come running. She didn’t know her power. So why did she want him when she could have anyone she chose?

He hoped she won the competition. That would show everyone—and herself—what she was made of.

As the first man stepped to the line to shoot, Roan’s thoughts drifted to his visit with Doc Jessup that morning. Roan had asked him if anyone had come for treatment of a gunshot.

“Only one,” Doc had said with a chuckle. “A husband who said his wife shot him. She brought him to my office, and they argued the whole time I was patching the guy up, so that story had to be true. They left with her threatening to shoot him again if he so much as thought about looking at Vera Kingsley. Why do you ask?”

Roan filled him in on the intruder and the blood left behind. “I know we shot him. I just wonder who fixed him up.”

“Maybe he died of his wounds.”

That was possible, but Coburn would’ve mentioned it at breakfast. Roan’s gut told him that the sheriff had a pretty good idea of the man’s identity. If the intruder had turned up his toes, Coburn would’ve had Roan in jail before the butter had melted on his biscuit.

To speed up the shooting competition, they had multiple targets set up, one next to the other. Marley consulted the chart and went to her line.

The first contestant finished after a dismal showing. Each of his three shots had missed the large red X on a board nailed to a tree twenty yards away. Another contestant took his place, and one shot landed near the bull’s-eye, but the other two were not even close. Each man took his shots one by one, with none hitting dead center.

Then, straight and tall, Marley stepped to the line. She was all business, and even without knowing her, Roan would never bet against the strong woman, not here or anywhere. She’d show these people what a lady could do.

Before she raised her rifle to her shoulder, Roan caught movement from the corner of his eye. He swung to his left to see Will Gentry. The man had his hand pressed against his shoulder, his mouth curled in a grimace. Intent on watching Marley, Gentry hadn’t noticed Roan.

A roar went up from the crowd as Marley hit the bull’s-eye with her first shot.

Roan weaved through the onlookers, coming up behind Gentry as the man reached inside his long, dark coat. For a gun? Roan couldn’t take that chance.

As slick as oil on a river current, he slid his Colt from the holster and poked the steel barrel into Gentry’s back. “Hands where I can see them, and don’t even think about going for your gun. If you think I’m going to let you hurt her, you’d best think again. You don’t stand a chance even on your best day.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Penny,” Gentry growled in a gravelly voice. “Or who you’re messing with.”

“Maybe not, but my warning still stands. Hurt Marley and you die. I’ll blow your scarecrow head off and see what it’s stuffed with. Turn around slow and easy.”

Gentry’s eyes glittered like shiny silver buttons, and Roan felt the pure evil that came from staring into the eyes of a devil.

“What do you want with Marley?” Roan bit out, keeping the Colt aimed at Gentry’s chest. That was when he clearly saw the spot of wetness on the shoulder of Gentry’s coat, and a cut on his face.

“She’s mine.”

“You’re sadly mistaken there, you piece of horse shit. She doesn’t belong to anyone, least of all you. Did you break into her hotel room last night and try to take her?”

“Why would I need to do that? If I’d wanted in, I’d have used a key.” A cold smile curved Gentry’s mouth. “The clerk owes me.”

Roan didn’t buy the statement. “Move over to that alley to your right. We’re going to finish this conversation and find some horses.”

“And miss the race?” Gentry chuckled. “I had a surprise all planned for you and everything.”

Behind them, Marley’s rifle fired, and again a roar went up from the crowd. Roan didn’t take his eyes from Gentry but assumed the noise meant she’d hit the bull’s-eye again. He gave his quarry a shove toward the alley. Getting him out of town would be a chore with enemies at every turn.

“Why can’t you just die?” Gentry spat. “What does it take to kill you?”

“A lot more than you’ve got, and I don’t have to wear a hood over my head to fight. I recognize your voice. You were with the riders that night. You’re nothing but a murderer.”

“Good luck proving that, Penny.”

As they started to cross to the alleyway, a herd of horses driven by whooping cowboys raced toward them. Roan barely had time to dive behind a tree and clear the path. When they had finally disappeared toward the outskirts of town, there was no sign of Wilbert Gentry.

Roan kicked the dirt. He’d lost the slippery man again. Hell and damnation!

He hurried back to the competition just as Marley finished her last shot. She strode toward him, her skirt snapping around her ankles, a satisfied smile on her face. “I hit the X dead center with all three shots, but so did another contestant. We have a tie.”

“I’m proud of you. You could give Annie Oakley a run for her money. When’s the shoot-off?” The second round would require a bit more skill, the targets moved back twenty more yards.

“In a few minutes.”

“That’s good.” Roan scanned the crowd for Gentry. It would be like the man to sneak back and take a potshot at Marley.

“What’s wrong?” Panic filled her voice.

“Gentry was here.” Roan told her about the conversation and how the man had escaped. “I don’t know how or why those riders came along just then, but I feel in my bones that it wasn’t by accident. They helped Gentry get away. I know it. He told me you were his.”

Marley gave a cry and covered her mouth with her trembling hands. “What does he want?” she whispered. “What? I’m not anything to him. I don’t even know him.”

Roan clasped her tightly to him, afraid to let her go for fear she’d disappear. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him get close to you. We don’t have too many friends in this town but we don’t need them. We have our guns and we can shoot the bastards.”

No one would get his Texas Star without losing a lot of blood.

“I have one,” she said softly.

“One what?”

“A friend—the waiter who works at the hotel. His name is Zach.”

“I saw you talking to him. Pardon me, but he doesn’t exactly look like he’s experienced in anything other than waiting tables.”

“Maybe not. I did glean some information though.” She moved closer to Roan and whispered, “Zach said the gang tried to recruit him but he didn’t want anything to do with them. You were right about them being young riders. They help their boss—someone named Rube—take back land that was ripped from them three years ago after the Texas Rangers rode in. It seems Rube has gathered up kids who lost either their fathers or both parents. Some of their fathers are in prison. The boys are hurt, angry, and alone. Rube feeds them, gives them a place to stay, and looks out for them.”

Roan knew from experience what that sort of kindness meant to a lost, hungry kid. Being cared for would buy a lot of loyalty. “Did Zach give you a last name?”

“No. Rube is all. Roan, this means that Gentry is not the ringleader.”

“I guess so.” He’d been wrong about that part, but the man was still involved up to his beady eyes. Had to be or he wouldn’t have been at Mose’s. It seemed the more they learned, the more the mystery deepened.

How far would he have to dig to hit pay dirt?

And would he and Marley live long enough to find all the answers?