Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone Sheriff\The Gentleman Rogue\Never Trust a Rebel (8 page)

But it was crazy to bring her out into the wilderness where he had nothing to do but listen to that whiskey-burred voice and watch those damn green eyes widen at all the things she wasn't used to, the cry of an owl, a coyote yelping on the next ridge, even the whiffle and stomp of the horses picketed a few yards away.

He strode off to the stream to wash the spoon. When he returned she was eyeing the two side-by-side bedrolls. She bent down to grab one corner of the closest blanket, then straightened with a groan and looked at him.

“Must they be so close together?”

Jericho lifted his hands, palms up. “Not safe to be separated, Maddie. Sorry, city lady, I don't have any fancy pillows.”

She sent him a look that made his heart do a somersault. “I can manage without pillows,” she said tightly. “What I cannot abide is...is...” Her voice cracked.

Jericho sighed. “Is sleeping next to me.”

“Well, yes, but it is more than that. It's being left in the dark, not knowing what you are planning. I like to be part of things on an assignment.”

“What you mean is you like to run things your way. Out here—” he waved his good hand at their camp “—you're out of your depth.”

“You mean,” she said in a weary voice, “that out here I am helpless.”

He could practically see the bristles popping up along her spine. Her lips trembled, but she forced them into an unsmiling line.

“I admit I feel off-balance out here in the middle of nowhere, Jericho. But I am here, whether you like it or not. And whatever your—
our
—plan is, I intend to help.”

Something inside planted a hand on his heart. Damn her dogged, single-minded sense of duty. He worried about the burden she'd be out here. She knew nothing about this country. He'd have to nursemaid her every step of the way, protect her from snakes, saddle sores, scratchy bedrolls, spiders and other dangers, including the Tucker gang.

The last thing he'd wanted was to get roped into protecting her; made him nervous being responsible for anyone other than himself. Especially a woman.

Especially
this
woman. Mrs. Detective couldn't keep her pretty little nose out of anything and she paid no attention to her own limitations. She could get herself hurt or even killed. That thought pumped cold, sweaty fear into his gut.

This whole thing was making him crazy.

“Jericho?”

Her measured voice sounded an alarm in the back of his brain. “Yeah?”

“I do not believe I can sleep like this.” She pointed to the two side-by-side bedrolls.

“You got another idea?”

She said nothing, just snapped her mouth closed. He kicked dirt over the fire, hobbled both horses, and sat down on one of the blankets.

“Get some shut-eye, Mrs. Detective. Tomorrow could be rough.”

He slipped the sling off his injured arm, forced himself to do a dozen wrist stretches and deliberately flexed each of the fingers of his right hand. It hurt too much to do more. He grabbed the bottle of painkiller, swallowed a double mouthful and shucked his boots. Folding them up with his Colt underneath, he laid them under his head. Then he positioned the two rifles he'd brought next to him and patted the bedroll beside his.

“Come on, Maddie, crawl in. You've got to get some sleep.”

Maddie glowered at him. He wanted her to wrap herself up like a sausage in a smelly old blanket? He made it look easy, but... Oh, all right, she would try it.

She planted her bottom on the wool and let out a cry. Her derriere was on fire! Quickly she scooched down to a prone position, kicked off Sandy's huge boots and folded the blanket edges over her body.

“Good girl,” the motionless figure beside her murmured.

Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. Even if every inch of her ached as if she had rolled down Mt. Everest, and even if she felt like having a good cry, she felt absurdly pleased with herself. Tomorrow, she vowed, she would do even better. Jericho would be proud of her.

A hard knot formed in her belly.
Careful, Maddie.
Do not look to this man for approval
.
Do not let him become important.
Beyond showing her how to survive in this wild country, Sheriff Jericho Silver had nothing she wanted.

Nothing.

She had learned her lesson the hard way. Trapped in a suffocating marriage when she was too young to know better, the life in her had been all but snuffed out. She would never, never let that happen again.

Chapter Nine

J
ericho laid his arm across Maddie's slumbering form and put his mouth so close to her ear he could smell her lavender scent. “Don't move,” he murmured. “And don't make a sound. Someone's coming.”

Maddie snapped her eyes open to a star-dotted sky and an impenetrable thick blackness surrounding them. She had not been asleep, but she had heard nothing in the quiet but the shuffling of the horses and the occasional
tu-whoo
of an owl.

What was it Jericho heard? She tipped her head sideways until her lips brushed the rim of his ear. “I hear nothing,” she whispered.

Jericho did not answer. Very slowly he slid his Colt from under his boots. He didn't cock it—the click would be audible. Instead, he rested the barrel on the slight rise his knee made under the blanket, aimed it across the cold fire pit and waited.

There it was again, a soft step and the breathing of a third person. Maddie froze and he could tell she was trying not to breathe.

A twig cracked somewhere behind the horses and Jericho adjusted his aim. Whoever it was halted. Maddie gripped his arm and he winced.

The silence stretched. He felt the gentle gust of Maddie's exhaled air curl into the shell of his ear and his controlled breathing grew unsteady.

Jesus and Joseph, now was not the time to get hot and bothered by a woman; he had to concentrate. He peered into the darkness but could see nothing. Then came a tiny sound, like something rubbing against a smooth surface.

At once he knew who was out there. He lay back down and slid the Colt back under his boots. Maddie again clutched his sore arm and without thinking he brushed her hand away. He heard her soft gasp. He leaned over her and once more brought his mouth to her ear.

“Relax, Maddie. I know who it is. He won't harm us.”

She tilted her face up to his. “How do you know that?” she whispered.

He laid his hand over her rigid form. “Just lie still. I'll explain later.”

They waited. Jericho kept his gaze on the horses; they moved restlessly but didn't slip the hobbles. Beside him, Maddie began to tremble. He wanted to say something to calm her, but he'd have to wait until the intruder was gone.

It wasn't so bad, lying here next to her. It had been a long time since he'd been this close to a woman. He'd forgotten how good they smelled.

At last he heard quiet footfalls moving away from their camp and then the far-off nicker of a pony. He waited five more minutes, then lifted his hand off Maddie and sat up.

“He's gone,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Who is gone? Who was it?”

Jericho chuckled softly. “An old Indian brave, Nez Percé, I'd guess. Every damn time I'm on the trail he sneaks up at night and searches my saddlebags.”

“What does he want?”

“Food. We ran his tribe off their land, and now they're starving. I always leave a little jerky and some biscuits or something for him to find. Gotten kinda used to it. One of these nights I'm gonna surprise him with a chocolate cake.”

She drew herself up to a sitting position beside him. “I feel sorry for someone who does not have enough to eat. I hardly know what to say.”

Jericho barked out a laugh. “Well, that's a first.” He settled back on his blanket and stared up at the ceiling of stars overhead. It was nice when she blew her breath into his ear. Real nice. Made him tingle all over.

* * *

Maddie woke when the sun turned the sky to gold and heated her body through the blanket. She yawned and rolled over to look at Jericho.

He was gone! Heavens, surely he would not abandon her in this wild, uncivilized place? Her hands closed into tight fists. When she saw him again—if she ever did—she would grab her pistol and shoot him right between those maddening blue eyes. She patted the small firearm she carried in her jeans pocket.

But she couldn't just lie here thinking murderous thoughts. She bolted upright, shook out her bedroll and folded it up with hands that trembled. Oh, goodness, every muscle in her body was so sore she could scarcely move. Groaning, she pulled on Sandy's huge leather boots and limped through the brush down to the creek.

There he was, kneeling on a flat rock scooping water over his face, neck and bare chest. So he hadn't abandoned her! Relief made her a bit giddy. Without a word she settled a few feet upstream and began washing her face.

“I thought you had left me alone out here,” she said between splashes.

He looked at her as if she were painted purple. “You crazy? You'd survive out here about twenty-four hours and I'd hang for murder.”

“That is certainly an excellent reason for not riding off.” She used her best put-him-in-his-place voice.

Jericho hurriedly dried his face and chest with his shirt and shrugged into it. “I wouldn't ride off and leave you, Maddie. Lord knows I might
want
to, but I wouldn't.”

“Are you sure?”

He eyed her with some disgust. “You have my word on it.”

“I find it hard to believe you.”

He marched up close enough to spit at her. “Out here in the West there's two things you can always believe in, Mrs. Back-East-Detective. A man's word and a man's handshake.”

Maddie stood up and faced him. “Jericho Silver, if you lie to me you will live to regret it.”

“Oh, for—I haven't lied, and I'm already living to regret it. You don't have much faith in people, do you?”

“No, I do not.”

He buttoned his damp shirt. “Is it all men you don't trust, or just me?”

“All men,” she said pointedly. “In my line of work, most of the men I come in contact with are criminals on the run. The rest of them just want to chain you up in a pumpkin shell.”

“Huh?”

“You know,” she said in exasperation. “Men want to marry you. Lock you up in a prison.”

“Well, dammit, here's one man who doesn't. I just want to get you back to Chicago in one piece. As soon as possible,” he added.

Her face changed. “Are we going back to Smoke River today?”

“Nope. We're gonna do what I we—
I
—set out to do—find the Tucker gang.”

She marched to her mare, and he watched with interest when she grabbed her left foot with both hands and lifted it toward the stirrup. Finally she gave up, grabbed for the saddle horn, and awkwardly pulled herself on top of the horse, belly down.

But she'd forgotten to tighten the cinch. She straightened and urged the mare forward maybe six paces and the saddle slipped sideways off the mare's back and dumped her onto the ground.

“Unpack your saddlebag,” he ordered. He pointed to where it was haphazardly slung behind the saddle. “Pack it so it's balanced on both sides. A horse doesn't cotton to an uneven load.”

Maddie groaned. He was giving orders like an army sergeant.

He urged his mount forward, then pulled up. “And don't use any more of that lavender soap in the morning.”

“But I always wash my—”

“Don't,” he interrupted. “I think one of the outlaws might be Sioux. Indian,” he clarified for her. “An Indian can smell a campfire, or a smelly woman, a mile away.”

“Smelly!”

“Perfumy,” he amended. “Don't use any scent or powder.”

Maddie's jaw muscles tightened until they ached. Orders, orders and more orders. Did the man never say “please”?

Jericho reined closer and peered into her face. “You okay? You look kinda funny.”

“No, I am not okay! I am so tired my eyelids feel stuck together, and I am sick of taking orders.”

“Tough. You wanted to come along on this jaunt, so now you take orders.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she shot. “I would salute, but I am so tired I cannot lift my arm.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Try it, anyway.”

Just to spite him, she snapped a salute. This time he laughed outright.

She liked it when he laughed. His eyes got all twinkly and so deep and clear blue she could drown in their depths.

“All right, Mrs. Detective.” He touched two fingers to his hat brim. “Try to keep close. In an hour, you'll see a big sugar pine scorched by lightning on one side. We'll rest there.”

He was gone before she could think of something provocative to say. Well, not provocative, exactly; she disliked women who flirted. Just something that would make him laugh again.

She looked mad enough to chew nails. Without a word he walked his horse past her. “And Maddie, don't forget to tighten that wide band underneath the horse's belly. It's called a cinch. It's what keeps the saddle on.”

The sound of his horse faded. Good. He was out of her hair and she could relax.

But she couldn't. She managed to remount using the belly-down-on-the-saddle method, and she rode for what seemed like hours thinking about Jericho's smoky eyes and that lopsided smile she rarely saw. What a puzzle of a man the sheriff was.

An hour later she spied the blackened tree, and there he was, sitting under it in a patch of straggly green-looking weeds with little star-shaped flowers. She slid off the horse, winced and plopped down next to him. “Ow. Ouch!”

He uncrossed his long legs. “Still sore, huh?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Not surprising. A rider as green as you are might not move at all after twenty miles in the saddle.”

She glared at him while he sliced a piece from a strip of dried jerky and handed them over balanced on the blade of his pocketknife.

Maddie peered at it. “What is that?”

“Jerky. Dried venison. Smoked it myself in a shack I built out in back of the jail.”

She picked up a single piece and sniffed at it. “Smells like smoked ham.” She popped it past her lips.

“Don't chew it right away,” Jericho cautioned. “Just hold it in your mouth till it softens up some.”

“Ow rong?” Her words came out garbled with the meat still in her mouth. “I am bery hunglee.”

He'd just opened his mouth to answer when he spotted something over her shoulder.

“Why aroo starling at me?”

He pointed his forefinger behind her. “Smoke.”

She swallowed suddenly, choked, and began to cough. “Smoke?”

“Told ya to let that soften some.”

“Smoke?”
she repeated. She twisted to look behind her.

“See it?” he said. “Must be a camp over yonder.”

Maddie struggled to her feet. “Aren't we going to investigate? What if it's the Tucker gang?”

“I'm pretty sure it
is
the Tucker gang. That bein' the case, why would I want to investigate in broad daylight? Sit down, Maddie. We'll wait till sundown.”

She looked at him for a long time, then sank down beside him and snatched the other piece of jerky off his knife blade. Good, he thought. Chewing on it would keep her quiet and give him some time to think.

“Jericho, it is probably only—” she glanced up at the orange ball of sun overhead “—nine o'clock in the morning. What are we going to do until dark?”

“Don't know about you,” he said slowly. “Me, I'm just gonna relax, maybe play some mumblety-peg.”

A frown wrinkled her forehead. “Play— How can you do that when outlaws are around?”

He sliced off another round of jerky. “Nuthin' else to do till the sun goes down, that's why. People out here in the West get used to waiting.”

She folded her hands, then refolded them and finally stuffed them in her jean pockets. “Mumblety-whatever-it-is is all very well for you, but what am
I
going to do?”

He studied her. This morning her eyes were sea-green and troubled. Funny, he never noticed before how thick her lashes were. “You don't like to spend time doin' nothing, huh?”

She looked startled. “No, I do not. It reminds me of when I was married.”

Again he found his brows rising. “Odd way to look at bein' married. Seems to me there'd be lots of things to do if you were married.” Lots and lots of things.

Her gaze narrowed and he shut off that line of thinking. “How 'bout I teach you to play mumblety-peg?”

The soft-looking mouth firmed into a hard line. “I do not think so, Sheriff. That is a skill I would never use in Chicago.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I will indeed.”

She was quiet for exactly thirty seconds. “Is there more jerky?”

Jericho cut two more pieces of dried venison. He kept slicing and she kept eating for maybe an hour; then she began to fidget like a hen with a fox on the prowl.

Hell, let her fidget. Teach her a lesson about catching criminals out West, which she obviously knew nothing about. Which is why he hadn't wanted her along in the first place.

He stretched out on a grassy patch and covered his face with his hat. Under the wide brim, he surreptitiously watched her pace around and around the horses. She made the circuit maybe twenty times, then circled the sugar pine for so many revolutions he expected her to get dizzy and stagger off into the copse of cottonwoods.

Then she started practicing some kind of dance steps, whirling around and around with her arms stretched out. Waltzing, he guessed. He'd tried it once or twice. Couldn't imagine doing it with Maddie. Just thinking about holding her in his arms made him sweat.

After the dance steps she skipped rocks into the river and sang songs to herself under her breath.
“Oh, Columbia, the gem of the ocean...”

Skip-plop.

“Blow high! Blow low! A-sailing down the coasts of High Barbary...”

Skip-skip-plop.

“She was a proper lady, and he a one-eyed jack...
”

That one caught Jericho's interest. “Where'd you learn that?”

She broke off the tune. “From my father,” she said with a blush. “He used to come home from the bank inebriated in the afternoon, and he would sing such songs just to shock my mother.”