frowned dubiously at the contents of the cup, then took a cautious drink. She was amazed to discover the liquor, once it finished burning the lining of her throat, had a calming effect. She took another swallow, then another.
When she glanced up to thank Lone Wolf for his unexpected kindness, the words stuck to the roof of her mouth. She found herself staring into his bronzed face, noting the braid of midnight hair—adorned with blue beads—that dangled beside his high cheekbones. A half-moon scar left a noticeable indentation on the curve of his stubbled jaw. Hazel eyes, encircled with flecks of gold, stared intently at her.
Her appraising gaze dropped to his sensuous lips, then drifted to the beaded necklace that was decorated with some sort of Indian talisman. She noticed that his shoulders seemed as broad as a buffalo’s and his black shirt stretched tightly across his muscled chest.
He crouched down in front of her, his buckskin breeches clinging to his powerful thighs, his scuffed black boots indicating hard use. Julia found herself thinking this legendary shootist dressed to portray exactly what he was—the product of two opposing civilizations. His garments were a combination of Indian and white cultures and he didn’t seem to favor one style over the other.
Whatever he found the most comfortable and practical, she suspected.
Although Julia had heard tales of Lone Wolf’s impressive feats against the worst criminals in western society, she had never seen him until now. Her first impression was that he was a tough, competent warrior, and an intimidating force to be reckoned with.
He probably saw her as a weepy lunatic of a female. At the moment his opinion wasn’t too far off the mark.
“You about done bawling so we can talk?” he asked.
Another wave of mortification crested over her. It was beyond embarrassing to fall apart in the presence of a man known for his fearlessness and impressive survivor skills. There were those in polite society who would condemn this man because of his mixed heritage, his dangerous reputation and his socially unaccepted profession. But Julia Preston would have given her soul if she could borrow his unflinching nerve and practiced skills for just one night.
Nothing would have made her feel better than to repay her ruthless neighbor for what he had done to her brother and for what he constantly tried to do to undermine their ranch.
The clatter of hooves on the bridge brought Julia’s head up. She heard Lone Wolf mutter, “Well, hell. More company. Just what I don’t need right now.”
He sprang to his feet and darted off to scoop up the rifle he had left by the campfire.
Julia watched Lone Wolf turn sideways to steady the butt of his rifle against his muscled shoulder. She noted that he stood at an angle, refusing to give the approaching rider a wide target—just in case the man was gunning for him.
Lone Wolf definitely knew how to minimize the risk of taking a direct shot.
Too bad that her brother hadn’t been able to do the same thing before the sniper had fired at him.
“That’s close enough, kid!” Lone Wolf bellowed. “Stop your horse or I’ll drop it out from under you.”
Julia frowned, bemused, when the rider came close enough for her to recognize him. “Harvey Fowler? Is that you?” She stared incredulously at the rail-thin, frizzy-haired young man in homespun clothes.
Harvey swiveled in the saddle to gape owlishly at her. “What are you doin’ out here with this half-breed bastard?” he asked in a slurred voice. “Was he trying to molest you?” His narrowed gaze bore mutinously into Lone Wolf. “Gimme back my pistols, you sidewinder. I plan to fill you full of lead for touchin’ her. You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air she does!”
Julia didn’t know what Harvey thought he was trying to accomplish by hurling insults or why he thought he needed to defend her honor. But only a suicidal fool would purposely try to provoke Lone Wolf into a showdown.
Furthermore, she didn’t need Harvey’s interference. His arrival was causing an unnecessary delay and costing her valuable time.
“I have urgent business with Lone Wolf,” she told Harvey as she marched over to stand directly between the men. “Does your mother know you’re out here issuing drunken threats to the wrong person?”
Harvey thrust back his bony shoulders and tilted his head to an aloof angle, obviously offended that she had brought his mother into the conversation. “I’m here to have it out with the half-breed redskin. He made a fool of me at the saloon.”
Behind her, she heard Lone Wolf snort. “Give yourself full credit, kid. You made an ass of yourself without any help from me.” He took Harvey’s measure down the sight of his rifle barrel. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? I’m faster on the draw than you are. That’s a fact. I’ve got years more experience. You don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with me right now. Go home and practice on fence posts and empty bottles. If you’re still all-fired determined to face me down in a year or two then you can look me up.”
“No,” Harvey spouted off. “I want to finish this right now! Unless you’re too much of a yellow-bellied coward to face me with six-shooters.”
Julia gasped at the foolhardy young man who was two years her junior. She remembered Harvey well enough from their school days to recall that he was a fatherless child who had a chip on his shoulder. He wanted to be recognized as a man, even though he continued to behave like a troublesome child.
Annoyed, Julia set her hands on her hips and stared up at her former school chum. “Now you listen to me, Harvey. Squaring off against a gunfighter of Lone Wolf’s caliber is a very bad idea. If you don’t turn that horse around and go home I will tell your mother what you tried to do. You’re lucky Mr. Lone Wolf has a strong sense of honor, restraint and integrity.” At least she hoped he did. “Otherwise you would find yourself shot full of holes, jackknifed over the saddle and hauled to Boot Hill for burial.”
Harvey puffed up like a toad. He glowered at Julia, then growled at Lone Wolf. “Gimme my pistols.”
“No.” Lone Wolf flatly refused. “You can pick up your firearms at Sheriff Danson’s office after you’ve cooled down and sobered up.”
When Harvey didn’t budge from the spot, Julia hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “Go home, Harvey, and for Pete’s sake show enough sense not to come back.”
Snarling in irritation, Harvey wheeled his horse around and galloped off.
Julia’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Well, that’s one person who won’t get shot today,” she mumbled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Julia flinched when Lone Wolf’s deep resonant voice came from so close behind her. Sweet mercy, the man moved as silently as a shadow. She hadn’t seen or heard him coming.
Summoning her composure, she pivoted to find that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. The man stood at least six foot three, she guessed. She felt like a dwarf beside him.
Dragging in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and said, “My brother wants to hire you as a bodyguard and detective. He said to tell you that you can name your price, Mr. Lone Wolf. He also said that you owed him a favor. Can we go now?” she asked impatiently. “Time
