me,” the blue-eyed innocent declared.
“Not as I live and breathe.” Smythe snatched Melinda by the elbow. “I’ll escort you to your room, miss.”
Stopping at the door, Smythe turned back to shoot him a glare. “I don’t approve of this, not by a mile. Still, things are what they are. You will lodge with me. Miss Winston will emerge from this ordeal unharmed and a maiden still.”
He answered Smythe with a nod.
Keeping his cousin, or rather his wife, safe, would be his first obligation. Capturing outlaws and protecting a town? He’d do that but only as long as it did not endanger Melinda.
If he failed to return her safely to the family, his freedom meant nothing.
As far as the maiden business went, he’d never bedded a maiden and he could only admit that the idea intimidated the hell out of him. A man had a responsibility to a virgin. Bedding the innocent meant pledges, vows of undying love. Not false vows, either, but sincere and from a committed heart.
That was one thing he could set Smythe’s mind at rest about.
* * *
At four in the morning, the moon sat fat and full on the western horizon. Boone watched its slow decent as he walked from the hotel to the livery.
Buffalo Bend slumbered peacefully. This far into October, even the crickets had gone silent. The heels of his boots clacking against the wooden boardwalk sounded like shots in the night. In a moment folks would be peering out their windows.
He reckoned he didn’t need to fear that any longer. Still, old habits died hard. He leaped off the boardwalk and walked down the middle of the road where the dirt muffled his steps.
Sometime during the night Smythe had packed up his belongings and gone without even a farewell. It only made sense that with this job finished, he was on to the next case that might make him a name.
It was just a shame that Boone had never had the chance to thank him for all that he had done.
From half a block away, he spotted a light shining from under the livery door. He hoped there was a fire in the stove, as well. Nights had turned cold enough that a man could see his breath.
He went inside without knocking, figuring he would be expected.
A man shoving a log into the stove, turned. He nodded.
“Boone Walker?” the fellow asked.
Boone nodded back.
“Frank Spears. Owner of this livery.” Spears slapped his hands on his pants, dusting off the splinters. “They say you’re a killer.”
“Folks like to talk.”
“Don’t mean any offense by it.” Spears crossed the livery and extended his hand. “You’ll need all the meanness you got to get rid of those vipers in Jasper Springs.”
Boone let the heat seep into him, gathering it for the time he’d be on the trail again. Maybe someday he’d have a hearth of his own, four solid walls.
A new life was opening up to him; one never knew how it would end up. A roof over his head and a fire seemed—
“Got a brother in Jasper Springs. A niece, too. I only hope you can help them.”
“Sounds like Mathers has told you everything.”
“He hired me to get the wagon loaded. Things were all set for the married couple, but it looks like a bit of good luck for you that they quit.”
“Time will tell, but I reckon this beats a life term.”
“There’s the wagon over in the corner, loaded with most of what you’ll need to set up housekeeping. I’m sending my best team to go with it.”
“I’ll do my best to return them to you.”
Spears nodded, quiet for a moment. “You sure you’re a killer? I don’t see it in your eyes.”
“That I am...but only the one time and both of us were drunk.”
“It’ll sound strange, but I’m disappointed to hear it.”
“I’ve been a thief since I was in long pants, if that eases your mind.”
“Some, I reckon. Say, I don’t hold a man’s past against him. I needed a fresh start myself, once. And don’t worry about the return of the wagon and horses. They’re yours—just—if you’ll keep my kin safe.”
Generosity on the part of strangers was not something he was used to. While he stumbled around in his mind thinking of a proper way to thank him, the door creaked open.
Mathers and Miss Winston—Mrs. Walker, rather—stepped inside.
His wife’s cheeks were blushed pink from the cold. It hit him all of a sudden how glad he was that his bride was not that Cherry woman.
“I’ve written up a few things,” the judge said, bypassing any sort of cordial greeting. “There’s a map to Jasper Springs, a bit about the outlaws, the parts you and your wife will play. Oh, and you’ll need cash.” He handed him a roll of money wrapped in a rubber band. Hard to tell how much, but it seemed to be a good sum.
“Good morning, Boone.” Melinda’s smile might as well have been sunrise, it was that bright and cheerful. “I hope you slept well.”
“Best I’ve slept in some time.” He hadn’t expected to, but he must have since he hadn’t even noticed Smythe take his leave. “You look refreshed.”
“It must be married life.” She shot him a wink and he sucked in a breath.
“Where’s Deputy Billbro?” Mathers asked, glancing around.
“Just went out to relieve himself. He’ll be along as soon as he smells folks in the livery.”
“Everything you need to know ought to be in here.” The judge handed the stack of papers to Melinda.
“One more detail...” Harlan Mathers dug around in his coat pocket. “Here it is. Don’t put it on until you make an arrest, your settler roles would be compromised.”
“It” was a deputy’s badge, bent and tarnished, but a symbol of law and order none the less.
What Boone wanted to do was dump it in the dirt. That badge had been his enemy for too many years.
He tossed it in the air, caught it and then put it in his coat pocket.
“Send me a wire now and again to let me know how you’re progressing.”
Without warning, the door opened again.
Boone had to blink to make sure he saw right.
There stood his lawyer dressed for adventure, from his stiff-looking new Stetson to his denims and his barely scuffed boots.
The
