was as far from a proposition as it could get!” she huffed as she nudged him—hard—with her shoulder. “Give me some space, Fox. I don’t like any man crowding me.”
“Is that why you shot your former lover?”
“I didn’t shoot Tony!” she all but yelled at the infuriating man. “He was bushwhacked and I was nearly a victim caught in the cross fire. In fact, I think maybe you gunned him down to collect a reward.”
“Me? Hell and damn, woman. I was nowhere near the west side of Osage reservation. I’ve been tracking Pecos Clem.”
“Well then, if not you specifically, then another glorified executioner for hire whose only concern is the price on a person’s head.”
So there, she thought spitefully as they approached Pecos Clem, who had been secured so effectively he couldn’t have gotten loose if his life depended on it. Now Gideon knew what she thought of bounty hunters wearing the sanctioned labels of Deputy U.S. Marshal. Maybe the marshals who patrolled the territory were the unsung heroes who tried to enforce law and order. But some of them—like Gideon Fox, obviously—were only interested in collecting bounties and relying on decrees of dead or alive to make their job easier.
“If you think I’ll sit here and endure a lecture from a feisty, smart-mouthed murderess then you’re wrong,” he growled in her ear. “You can tell your story to Judge Parker. I’m not the least bit interested in what you have to say. My job is to bring you in. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“But I need to return to the trading post to reassure my father that I’m all right,” she protested hotly. “That is the very least you can do.”
“I’ll send him a note…if I get around to it.”
“That will not suffice,” she snapped at him. “The real murderer is running loose. He might have killed Tony for the bounty on his head.”
“Your former lover was an outlaw? Why am I not surprised.”
“I don’t know if he was or not,” she muttered, exasperated. “Tony was secretive about his past and I’ve been wondering if he’d had a brush with the law and hid out in the territory. He might have been using an alias, for all I know. But what I do know is that he was nice to me. It’s up to you to find out the truth. And for your information, he wasn’t my lover. He wanted to marry me and I—”
Lori dragged in a steadying breath. The awful scene exploded in her mind’s eye and the horrid memory of watching Tony collapse after the sniper shot him, while trying to shield her from harm, bombarded her with killing force. She choked back a sob, refusing to dissolve into tears in front of this hard-hearted marshal.
No doubt, he’d think she was putting on an act to milk his sympathy. As if he had a sympathetic bone in his powerful body—one that he pressed up against her as if he were her own shadow.
“He wanted to marry you so you shot him?” he remarked caustically. “You could have just said no.”
“Damn it, Fox. You are an ass!” she sniped furiously and blinked back the tormenting tears that threatened to destroy her crumbling composure.
“And you are a cold-blooded killer,” he said in a steely voice. “If there’s such a thing as a femme fatale, you’re it.”
“You are going to be eternally sorry when you discover that I’m telling the truth. I lost a dear friend to an unknown assailant.”
“Right,” he said, and smirked.
It was pure torment for Gideon to use his body to surround his alluring captive. With each movement of the horse beneath him, he could feel Lori’s rounded rump brushing provocatively against his crotch. He could smell the appetizing scent of her body and it threatened to cloud his senses the same way the fog clogged the Osage Hills.
The sooner he delivered this sinfully seductive siren and Pecos Clem, the horse thief, to headquarters the happier he’d be. She could spout her lies nonstop, but Gideon wouldn’t fall prey to them—or her. He’d heard hundreds of convoluted claims in his day. The jail in Fort Smith was teeming with inmates who shouted their innocence to high heaven. They lied through their teeth—anything to ensure they could escape justice.
Gideon glanced at Clem, who was still secured to the horse and the tree. He veered right and breathed a gigantic sigh of relief when he reached the spot where he’d left his horse, Pirate. The black-and-white pinto-and-Appaloosa crossbreed had a patch of black around his right eye—hence the name. Gideon was exceptionally fond of his well-trained, reliable mount. Like himself, Pirate was of mixed breeding. The spirited stud was part of the prize herd Gideon and his brothers, Galen and Glenn, raised on their combined properties near Heartstrings River.
Ignoring his thoughts, Gideon dismounted Lori’s horse but kept a firm grip on the reins in case she tried to thunder off and force him to chase her down. He suspected she was skilled at losing herself in the wild tumble of mountains and rock-filled ravines in the Osage Hills.
Which is why the two-man posse chasing her had no luck overtaking her, he reminded himself.
However, Gideon had grown up in the Osage Hills and he’d tracked hundreds of outlaws across Indian Territory. He was damn good at his job, even if he did say so himself. His reputation preceded him. It provided him with an edge because most outlaws thought twice about crossing him. Of course, there were those—most of them dead and buried—who challenged him to back up his threats.
That wasn’t to say Gideon hadn’t been shot up, shot down and knifed on occasion—especially when the odds were stacked against him. Yet, by the grace of God and the Indian deities that were part of his culture, he was still alive and kicking.
“Nice horse,” Lori said when Gideon grabbed Pirate’s reins. “Did you steal him?”
“Very funny, hellion,” he muttered when she threw his sarcastic comment back in his face.
“Did you take the stallion as a trophy of war from a dead man, perhaps?” she asked flippantly.
Gideon slung his leg over the saddle then moved Pirate beside Drifter so he could check Lori’s saddlebag. “Wha’d ya know,” he drawled as he retrieved the pistol stashed in the leather pouch. He spun the cylinder to find one cartridge missing. “You must be a fair shot if you plugged your former lover with one bullet. I’ll remember that.”
“For the last time, I did not shoot Anthony Rogers,” she growled at him, her golden eyes flashing like hot sparks. “And yes, I am a skilled markswoman. Hand me the pistol and I’ll show you how accurate I am when provoked—”
He arched a brow and smiled wryly when she slammed her mouth shut so fast she nearly bit off her tongue. “That’s as good as a confession in my book, honey.”
When she sputtered furiously, he smothered a grin. He had to hand it to this fiery minx. She had spirit galore. Gideon appreciated that in his horse. He hadn’t thought he’d appreciate it quite so much in a woman. But he did, even though he really didn’t want to admire any qualities in this particular female. He was unwillingly attracted to her already.
That was more than enough to shatter his peace of mind.
He’d wrestled her to the ground, sprawled on top of her luscious body and shared a horse with her while she sat
