him a silver dollar. “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”
Immediately indignant, he growled, “Put that away.”
“But—”
“I won’t take your money,” he said evenly, not liking the way she made him feel like a hired hand.
Irritation zipping through him, he hopped down and started around to help her down.
“Miz Phelps!”
Riley rounded the back of the wagon, halting when he saw J. T. and Matt Baldwin standing next to the wagon, both offering a hand up to Susannah.
She smiled, erasing all fatigue from her face. “Hello, Mr. Baldwin, Matthew. How nice to see you again.”
The warmth in her greeting to father and son stirred something deep inside Riley, and he felt an unfamiliar heat charge through his chest.
The elder Baldwin elbowed his son aside. “Let me help you down, Miz Phelps. You boys get her luggage.”
Russ Baldwin appeared suddenly beside his brother. While their father handed her down, the Baldwin brothers moved toward Riley and reached for the trunks in the back of the wagon.
All three Baldwins easily had three to four inches on Riley’s six-foot height. Their broad shoulders and massive thighs made them the biggest men around; one or another of them won the arm-wrestling match every year during the Fourth of July picnic. But they were known to be gentlemen in every sense of the word. Riley had always liked them.
The Baldwin men were more than capable, but shouldn’t he be the one responsible for making sure Susannah was settled?
J.T. deposited her beneath the hotel’s green awning as carefully as if she were blown glass.
“You’ve already had your visit with Riley?” Matt stepped onto the boardwalk, balancing a trunk on his massive shoulder.
She didn’t so much as glance Riley’s way. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry I asked you to lug all my baggage out to his ranch, but I wasn’t sure where I’d be staying.” She gave the three men a blinding smile.
They nodded, each grinning as if they’d tipped back a bottle of Pete Carter’s best whiskey. All kept their gazes locked on her with rapt attention. Riley frowned, but told himself to be glad that she hadn’t shared with them the real reason she’d come out to his ranch.
“I’ll be staying here.”
“Good,” both brothers said in unison.
Riley’s jaw clenched as he turned to retrieve the remaining luggage.
Russ, who had already unloaded the largest trunk, plucked the two valises from the wagon before Riley could. “How are things going at the ranch, Riley?”
“Very well, thanks.” He smiled at Russ, trying to figure out why he was annoyed. He’d done the right thing by bringing her to town. She wasn’t his responsibility. Hell, he hadn’t even known she was coming to see him.
The three men asked after Susannah’s health at least twice each, and she didn’t seem to mind at all. Clearing his throat, Riley said, “I’ll get you a room, Susannah.”
She turned, gave him a cool smile that made her look regal and damn infuriating. “That won’t be necessary.”
His lips tightened and he stepped up on the boardwalk. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned a few minutes later and folded a room key into her hand. “Here you go.”
Her eyes darkened. “Thank you.” Matt Baldwin swept off his hat. “Let me escort you inside.”
Susannah smiled and took his arm. Russ shifted her valises to one hand and opened the hotel door.
Gritting his teeth, Riley stepped down into the street, then climbed into the wagon. “I’ll check on you later.”
“There’s no need. You’ve done enough.” If she didn’t wipe that haughty look off her face, he was going to come up there and do plenty more.
He nodded and clucked to the mare, glancing over his shoulder when he heard Susannah’s light laughter mix with the deeper sounds of the Baldwins’. She didn’t even glance Riley’s way as he turned the wagon and headed back up the street. As if he were invisible, as if they hadn’t discussed marriage.
She needed him about as much as a boar needed a teat. She was fine. He was relieved.
Relief was the last thing he felt, Riley admitted as he braked the wagon in front of the post office a few moments later. Irritation, sympathy, even a grudging fascination flickered inside him, but not relief.
He went inside to send a wire to Adam. With his blood doing a slow simmer, Riley found thoughts of Susannah harder to shake than a burr in his sock. When she’d realized he had no intention of marrying her, hurt had darkened her clear blue eyes. At the sight, a fierce protectiveness had flared in his chest. He seemed unable to squelch that, even after seeing her surrounded by the hulking Baldwins. Especially after that.
At least she wasn’t planning to stay in Whirlwind. St. Louis was definitely the place for her. The brutal Texas climate, the unforgiving land, the isolation of ranch life whittled away at women like Susannah. This land had killed his Maddie, hadn’t it?
After he’d turned eighteen, at his parents’ request, he’d spent a year in Boston at university. He hated that closed-up life, the air and sky squeezed out by buildings and countless homes. Except for the friends he’d made—Adam Phelps being one of the best—Riley hadn’t liked anything about the big Eastern city.
As Tony Santos read back his message, Riley thought about apologizing again to Susannah. But another apology, no matter how compelled to make one he felt, wasn’t going to erase the embarrassment between them, the awkwardness. Fishing another peppermint stick out of his shirt pocket, he broke off a section and slid it into his mouth.
Cutting off further thoughts of the curvy blonde, he told the rotund telegraph operator he’d pay extra to have Adam’s reply delivered to the Rocking H as soon as it arrived.
After he left, he walked past the Pearl Restaurant and to the jail for a quick talk with his brother. Davis Lee, older by almost three years, sat on the edge of his scarred, but polished desk, whittling. Wood shavings littered the otherwise spotless pine floor. A single door behind Davis Lee’s desk opened to the four cells of Whirlwind’s jail.
Riley stepped inside the building and closed the front door, noting the quick peel and flash of Davis Lee’s knife. Davis Lee liked to whittle; he was good at it. But he only did it when something bothered him.
“More trouble?”
The eldest Holt, lanky and two inches taller than Riley, looked up with somber blue eyes. “Just came from Cora Wilkes’s house. The McDougal gang held up the stage today and killed Ollie.”
“Damn. Anyone else?”
“No. He’d just brought in three passengers and was headed to Abilene to pick up some supplies for the fort.”
“They
