He reckoned that in spite of the woman’s beautiful face, she must be deranged.
He and Lantree had been the only children of only children. Couldn’t recollect that there had ever been anyone but Ma and Pa and the two of them.
“You wouldn’t know me, of course, but I’m your cousin...of sorts. Melinda Winston.”
“Miss Winston, I don’t have any cousins. Go on back to Smythe. I’ll watch until you get safely inside the hotel. I can see the front door from here.”
A great gust of wind tilted Miss Winston sideways but she caught her balance.
“This stack of crates isn’t as sturdy as one would hope,” she said with a laugh. “You didn’t used to have cousins, but now you have me.”
He didn’t know what to say about that so he remained silent, listening to the wind knock something against the side of a building and the drunken laugher of a couple of fellows leaving the Golden Buffalo Saloon.
It was more than a little alarming to hear them coming in this direction.
“I see that this is confusing for you, Boone, but would I be calling you by your given name if I was not related to you?”
“I get the feeling that you are a lady who does as she pleases when she pleases.”
“Well, yes, that is true.” Her smile indicated that she reckoned it to be a virtue rather than plain willfulness. “And that’s why I’ve come to tell you about Caroline.”
“Caroline?” He didn’t recall a Caroline in his past. He didn’t like to think that he’d forgotten but...
“Your beautiful baby niece.”
His heart constricted. He felt gut-punched.
“Lantree’s got a daughter?”
“And a wife—my cousin, Rebecca Lane Walker. That makes me your cousin and I’m here because they can’t travel with the baby being so young.”
The men’s laughter grew louder. There was an edge of nastiness to it that made Boone’s skin prickle.
“We’ll talk, but later.” The drunks had noticed her. There was but one conclusion they would come to about a woman standing on crates in the dark speaking to a convict.
“Hey, lady! I’ve got a quarter.” They’d reached the conclusion even quicker than he thought they would.
“Better run. I’ll see that you get across the street safely.”
She stepped off the crates, took four steps then spun around, her brows arched in question and the wind whipping her skirt.
“I don’t see how you can when—”
“Get!”
The men picked up their pace. He watched her run for the safety of the hotel but not quickly enough. Her pursuers were only steps behind.
Boone stooped, snatched up the pebble that she had tossed through his window. He fired it at man in front and hit him square in the back of the head.
The fool dropped cold. The other drunk tripped over him. They both rolled around in the dirt.
Hell, who would have guessed that all the practicing at skipping stones that he and Lantree had done as children would turn out to be so useful?
Melinda Winston, her skirts flapping, reached the safety of the hotel door. With her hand on the knob, she turned, flashed him a smile then, oh damn, she winked.
Heaven help Stanley Smythe was all he could think.
Melinda closed the door to her hotel room and leaned against it, her breath coming fast and hard. Those men had nearly latched onto her skirt.
What a lucky thing that the fellow in front tripped and brought his friend down with him. There was more than her safety at stake.
The last thing she wanted was for Boone Walker to think, as every other man did, that simply because she was a female she was not able to look out for herself.
Still, she could only admit that even Rebecca, her comrade in adventure, would agree that this pursuit had been a close call.
She would feel guilty forever if something happened to make Stanley Smythe feel that he had failed as her guardian.
Had it not been for him finally agreeing to let her come along, she might be at the ranch right now, counting cows. As much as she loved Moreland Ranch and everyone living there, it was isolated.
How would she ever meet the one man destined to be hers? In the time she had lived there she had entertained three possible suitors. One looking for his third wife, the next a good friend and contemporary of Grandfather Moreland’s and the last...well, to be frank, he was not at all interesting.
Someday she would like to return to the mountains, live near Rebecca and Lantree. She could not imagine raising her children any place but near her cousin.
But, if there were to be children, there needed to be a husband and she was not likely to find him milling around with the cattle.
With her breathing restored, she crossed the room to peer out the window. The men who had chased her were just now getting to their feet. The swifter of the two rubbed the back of his head. His drunken companion glanced around as if confused.
Well, all was well that ended well. And a close call was only that. Close. As it turned out, she had been quicker and luckier.
And the risk had been well worth it since she had been able to make the acquaintance of her new cousin, to let him know that he was an uncle and he had his family’s support.
Standing beside the window and protected by the darkness, she unbuttoned her dress and stepped out of it.
The men below shuffled back to the saloon and went inside.
Dry, gusty wind blew up clouds of dust. The streetlamp below her window illuminated the grains as they whirled and swirled.
She plucked the pins from her hair then reached for the hairbrush on the dresser beside the window. While she brushed the day’s tangles out, she thought about Boone.
How could she not? The man was a puzzle.
He was handsome, like his brother, and yet not at all like his brother. The features all added up to mirror images, but when she looked at Boone, there was a little flutter in her belly.
He made her feel edgy and uncomfortable—but at the same time fascinated.
That didn’t happen when she looked at Lantree. At least not after the first glance, because by the second glance she’d known that he was meant for Rebecca and the flutter had vanished and never returned.
Maybe
