and followed Creed, who zigzagged ahead as if dodging hot coals.
Riley dismounted and walked over to Miguel. “Why don’t you leave the sheriff’s horse at the jail? I’ll bring the buckboard and your uncle’s mare once I deliver Miz Susannah to Miz Cora’s.”
The boy’s dark eyes went to Susannah. “Is that all right, ma’am?”
“It’s fine,” she said with a gentle smile. He looked down at the ground for a moment. “I’m sorry about what happened today.”
“Nonsense, Miguel. You handled it beautifully. If it weren’t for you, that horse would still be running.”
Despite her kind words, Riley noted that she still gripped the seat hard enough to leave nail marks. He tied his horse to the back of the wagon and moved up to the front in time to see Susannah press a coin into Miguel’s hand. “But, ma’am, you’ve already paid me.”
“That’s extra for the way you handled yourself. Just think how frightened I would’ve been if I’d been alone.”
A broad grin split his face. “Thank you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you!”
Riley helped him mount Davis Lee’s buckskin gelding, and waited until the horse ambled toward town before climbing up into the buckboard. His gaze flicked over Susannah’s dusty navy traveling suit and white shirt. “Is the baby all right?”
“Yes.” She laid a visibly shaking hand on her stomach. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, thank you.” After a pause, she insisted, “I can see myself to Cora’s.”
The relief he’d felt about the baby evaporated. Riley set his jaw and settled into the seat beside her. “I’ll have you there before you know it.”
He slapped the reins across the mare’s rump and the wagon lurched into motion.
“Who are Luther and Odell?” she asked. “Two of the saloon’s most loyal patrons.”
“Oh.”
Her soft vanilla scent blew gently across his face. The sight of wispy hair blowing around her face and trailing down her neck pulled Riley’s gut tight. She looked sweet and vulnerable. Dangerously so. Enough to make it an effort to keep from asking the questions boiling through him. He lasted until they reached Cora’s.
He helped her down from the wagon, his lungs filling with her warmth, his nerves pinging. His hands flexed on her waist as he thought about the way she’d tended to him yesterday. As he set her on her feet, he forced himself to remember another woman who’d once tended him, to recall what had happened to her. “What in the heck were you thinking? You shouldn’t be gallivanting around out here.”
“I wasn’t gallivanting.” Her head came up sharply and she stepped away. “I had business.”
“What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”
“Adam wired me some money. I needed it.”
“You should’ve waited until someone other than a boy could go with you.”
“Oh, I suppose you mean you?” She looked down her nose, twisting the strings of her reticule. “The arrangements I made worked out fine. Your brother said the outlaws weren’t nearby, so I didn’t see the harm.”
“Yeah, your wagon was nearly wrecked because of a snake.”
“That could’ve happened no matter who went with me. I admit I was terrified when that horse ran away, but Miguel quickly got her under control.”
“You shouldn’t have gone without an escort. An older escort.”
“I imagine I’ll be going a lot of places without an escort, Mr. Holt.”
He hated when she called him that. “Well, Miz Phelps, down here you can’t just wander willy-nilly around these parts.”
“I was not wandering willy-nilly.” She gritted her teeth, her fist closing over the bag. “I had business to attend to, and I did that. If you don’t approve, then maybe you shouldn’t ask so many questions.”
Seething, and not sure why, Riley stared into her blue eyes. They were troubled yet determined. Unyielding. Just like another woman he’d known. Another woman who hadn’t belonged here.
He valued his friendship with Adam too much to turn his back on Susannah, but Riley couldn’t let his life get tangled up with hers, either. “You’re right. You’re a grown woman, and not accountable to me.”
She gave a sharp nod of agreement, but he caught a flash of confusion and surprise in her eyes.
He climbed up in the wagon and tipped his hat. “I’m glad you’re unhurt. And the baby, too.”
“Thank you,” she said grudgingly. “For coming to look for us. And for driving me back.”
“You’re welcome.” He clucked to the mare. As he rode away, Riley told himself the hollow ache in his stomach was because he was hungry, not because of what might have happened to her. Frustration had him jamming his hat farther down on his head. He’d managed to stay out of her affairs for all of one day.
The protective feelings that dogged Riley all the next week weren’t any more welcome by him than they would be by Susannah. An obligation to keep Adam’s sister safe was what he felt. Was all he would feel. Putting up hay for the winter, replacing rotten planks in his shed and barn, and working his three-year-old filly, Storm, had kept Riley busy. His body at least. His mind was plumb tuckered out trying to sidestep insistent thoughts of Susannah. Curiosity over whether the incident with the spooked horse might have sent her packing was wearing a hole through him. If the horse hadn’t scared her away, maybe her inability to find a job would.
As he rode toward Whirlwind the next Saturday for one of the fall horse races, he hoped Susannah had left town, but he had no way of knowing. With her delicate build and ignorance about life on a ranch, she reminded him of Maddie. Neither woman was suited to life in a hard land.
A land that had killed his wife.
A vicious dust storm had disoriented Maddie and caused the fall that had broken her neck. Riley would always feel some responsibility over that. The whirling, blinding clouds of dust had come up suddenly, while he’d been in Abilene at a horse sale. There had been no way he could warn her, nothing he could do. Hours after arriving home, he and his father had finally found her at the bottom of a shallow gully not far from the house.
Riley had blamed himself for a while, and then he’d felt nothing. Since Maddie, he hadn’t found another woman who had been able to stir even a passing interest. The fact that Susannah Phelps stirred much more than that needled him. A woman like her was just flat-out wrong for him. He knew what kind of woman fitted him and his life. It wasn’t Susannah.
He repeated that to himself when he saw her standing under the awning in front of Haskell’s Store. Sandwiched between the giant Baldwin brothers, with her silky hair piled atop her head, she looked like a specially wrapped package. Bright and shiny and too pretty for either one of those hairy sidewinders.
The dainty blue parasol Matt held for Susannah looked like a twig
