line above a bladelike nose and a square chin and jaw. The combined effect should have rendered him ugly, but even though his face was fierce and a bit frightening, he possessed a harsh beauty. There was a noble look about him, something in the way he stood with his denim-clad legs slightly apart and the tilt of his head that seemed to shout that he was much more than what she saw standing there.
He looked magnificent and proud and wild.
Nothing at all like a killer.
* * *
Feet apart, shoulders back, his expression showing none of the turmoil churning in his gut, Ace Allen stood in the growing warmth of the September morning and stared at the woman whose husband he’d killed. Though the shooting was justified, done to save the sheriff, he was still responsible for taking a life and making the woman at the window a widow and her children orphans.
He wondered where that put him with God.
Maybe everyone was right and Elton Thomerson had deserved his fate, but Ace was having trouble making peace with what he’d done. For good or ill, his actions had forced him and the woman together and would take their lives in new directions. Wherever their paths might lead, they would forever be bound by Elton’s death.
Seeing the woman—Meg—made his guilt even harder to bear. A small woman, she looked insubstantial since her ordeal. She hadn’t braided her hair for the night and gold-blond tresses fell straight and silky from a side part, framing a too-thin face with almond-shaped eyes that he knew from previous encounters were green. A wide mouth, round chin and straight nose combined to make her one of the loveliest women he’d ever seen.
Almost as if she’d heard his thoughts, she ducked her head, reached up and swept the golden mass over one shoulder and began to weave it into a careless plait. The utter femininity of the gesture took his breath away.
“She’s awake.”
Ace turned toward his mother. There was a curious expression in the dark eyes regarding him. “Yes.”
“I’ll go to her, see what she needs,” Awinita Allen said, adding the wood in her arms to the neatly stacked pile.
Ace looked toward the window once more, but Meg was gone. “I want to talk to her.” His tone was more forceful than was necessary.
Nita placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me tend to her needs first. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”
* * *
Meg used the moment when the woman spoke to the man to break the strange trance gripping her. No. He was not just a man, she reminded herself. He was the man who had shot Elton. It was important that she remember that.
Ace. His name is Ace Allen.
Sheriff Garrett and Rachel had told her his name...among other things that had been mostly lost in the laudanum-laced world she’d drifted in and out of those first couple of weeks. Ace Allen had been in prison before. She’d heard that somewhere. She didn’t remember why he’d been sent away, but he was out now and chopping wood for the upcoming winter. For her.
Meg wondered again how she had allowed herself to be talked into such a thing. She’d been shocked when the sheriff and doctor had approached her together and suggested that Ace and his mother would be the perfect ones to help her around the farm until she was strong enough to handle things on her own, possibly until cold weather settled in. Rachel added the argument that the self-sufficient Allens could keep her laundry business going so that she wouldn’t lose her main source of income.
“I can’t afford to hire them or anyone else,” she’d said, though the thought of maintaining her income was tempting. “And I’m sure no red-blooded man is going to want to do laundry.”
Sheriff Garrett laughed. “Actually, Ace did a lot of laundry while he was in the penitentiary.”
“They live off the land, Meg,” Rachel told her. “Ace hunts and traps and fishes and they sell produce and fruit to the mercantile in season. They’re the kind of people who would do it for nothing, but you can give them meals, and I’m sure we can have a benefit or something to bring in some money. You know how people stand by each other here. No matter how strapped for cash they may be, they always manage to come up with something to help out.”
Meg couldn’t deny that. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more giving community than the one in Wolf Creek. She’d just never been the recipient of their generosity before. She’d always stood on her own two feet and “scratched with the chickens” for her living, as her aunt would say. Accepting help felt a lot like charity. She said as much to the pair doing their best to persuade her.
“Now isn’t the time to let your pride get in the way,” Colt told her. “And if you’re worried about Ace being in prison, it might help to know that the killing he was accused of back when he was younger was accidental. He got in a fistfight and the other guy’s head hit a rock when he fell. But because Ace was an Indian, they took the word of the bystanders. He spent two years at hard labor for something men do all the time.
“When Elton was caught and sent to prison for robbing Gabe, Sarah and the others, and word was that his partner was an Indian, he said it was Ace to protect his friend, and the judge sent Ace back to jail for the second time. Elton was lying.”
Meg wrung her hands together and looked at him with a furrowed brow. “How can you know that for sure?”
“Because I followed some leads and found out Joseph Jones was the guilty party. Ace was set free. He’s a good man. Will you be uncomfortable around him because of Elton?”
“No, not really,” Meg told them. Everyone in town knew Elton’s death was a result of his own actions.
“Look, Meg,” Rachel said, “I know you’ve had a lot to deal with, but you need to let us help however we can. We care about you. At least give some thought to letting Ace and his mother help.”
“He learned to do about everything while he was locked up,” Colt added. “He’s a jack-of-all-trades if ever there was one, and Nita will be a big help, too.”
“Don’t worry about payment. We’ll figure out something,” Rachel added, her brown eyes smiling. “And it will not be charity.”
“But I already owe you a small fortune.”
“And you’ll pay what you can, when you can. You have two children who need you, and you can’t take care of them alone just yet.” She gave a wry lift of her eyebrows. “You can’t even fully take care of yourself yet. Doesn’t it make sense that if you want them to come home you need to get better as fast as possible?”
Of course it did.
“Fine, then,” Meg had told them at last, and Colt and Rachel had promised to take care of everything.
They’d done just that, even making certain her children were taken to her aunt Serena’s place. Now she was home, and Ace Allen and his mother were here, as well.
Slipping on her worn shoes, Meg wandered into the larger space that served as both kitchen and parlor. She stood in the center of the room, hugging herself against a sudden chill despite the warmth of the morning.
Why had she ever thought she could come
