The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride. Debra Cowan

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      He seemed to move just as carefully. “When Smith found out about the horse, he wanted to come, but he couldn’t.”

      “Because of spring calving?”

      “Partly.” Gideon returned the message to his leather pouch and slid it into his back pocket. “And he just had surgery on his leg. He isn’t getting around too well yet.”

      “Surgery?”

      “Doc Miller reset his leg. He straightened it out some.”

      While in prison, Smith’s leg had been badly broken in several places. Ivy was glad to hear her brother might be getting some relief from the pain he endured daily. She understood about her brother, but it wasn’t like Emmett Jennings to stay behind. “What about my father?”

      “He wanted to come.”

      Alarm flickered. “He’s not ill?”

      “No, ma’am, but he is getting up in years. Smith feels your pa’s reflexes aren’t what they used to be. His hearing is going, too.”

      From her trip home at Christmas, Ivy knew that to be true.

      The large man in front of her shifted from one foot to the other. “Smith doesn’t feel either of them are able-bodied enough to protect you.”

      Judging by the deepness of Gideon’s chest and the ridges of muscle that corded his abdomen, her visitor looked able-bodied enough for all kinds of things. She wondered if his arms were as steely and strong as they looked.

      Irritated at herself for noticing so much about him, she cleared her throat.

      “Knowing my brother, I don’t imagine he sent you all this way just to tell me something he could’ve put in a wire.”

      “No, ma’am. He wants me to stay and find out who’s behind your trouble.”

      She could figure that out for herself, but she knew her brother wanted to protect her, whether she liked the idea or not. “I’m not being threatened. Just my animals.”

      “Even so, I’ll be stayin’, ma’am.” He took a step toward her, his features stony, forbidding in the amber light. “Till your brother says different.”

      Ivy had done just fine on her own since Tom’s death, and she didn’t need a man around. She’d only sent word to Smith about this latest incident because she had promised she would.

      She licked her lips, ignoring the way her visitor’s gaze went to her mouth. “Nothing has happened since I sent the wire.”

      “But you’re spooked.”

      “Not really.”

      His eyes narrowed. “You thought I was here to harm you.”

      “Maybe I overreacted.”

      “You said your horse was dead, ma’am.”

      “Yes.”

      “That’s a message of some kind.”

      She agreed, but the thought of him staying rattled her.

      “It can’t hurt to have another person here,” he said.

      While that was true, he wasn’t just another person. The idea of his being so close made her shiver, and if she were honest, part of that was due to excitement, not dread.

      She needed some space from him right now.

      “You’d probably like to change out of that wet shirt. And I’m sure you’d like to get some rest.”

      He studied her as if trying to determine if she were attempting to get rid of him. Which she was.

      He nodded. “In the morning, you can tell me everything that’s happened.”

      She could protest, or she could graciously accept the protection her brother had sent. “All right. You can stay in one of the guest rooms.”

      “The barn will be better. That way, I’ll be in a good position to see or hear anything suspicious.”

      She hoped relief didn’t show on her face. “There’s a bunk out there, and the roof is sound. Let me get you some bedding.”

      A few moments later, she returned with a sheet and quilt. It was likely cool outside now. He could use whichever covering he wanted.

      As badly as Ivy wanted him to go on, her mother had drummed manners into her. “Have you eaten supper?”

      “Your ma sent plenty of food along with me.”

      “That’s good. Breakfast will be at six, dinner at noon and supper at six.”

      “Are you expecting the stage?”

      “It came today. It won’t be back for a few days.”

      He nodded, then after an awkward pause, turned for the door. “Good night, Miz Powell—”

      “Please!” she burst out. “Just...call me Ivy.”

      “All right,” he said slowly, a curious look on his face.

      Well, he could wonder all he liked. “Thank you.”

      Who knew how long he would stay? The man was clearly doggedly loyal to Smith.

      Gideon stopped to tug on his boots.

      She opened the door, glad to see the rain had let up a bit. “I know you saved Smith’s life and I know he’s grateful, as am I. But why do you feel you owe him so much?”

      “He gave me a chance.” Boots on, he straightened, his voice raspy. “A lot of folks wouldn’t.”

      “Still, he’s asking a lot of you. A two-day ride for an unknown length of time.” She gave a light laugh. “You’re going to be very busy helping your friends if you have a lot of them.”

      “I don’t.”

      The hollowness in his blue eyes told her he wasn’t being flippant. She felt a sharp tug on her heart.

      He paused in the doorway, looking down at her with an inscrutable expression. “I won’t cause you any extra work and I’ll help around here with whatever you need, but I ain’t—” He broke off, looking self-conscious. “I’m not leaving, either.”

      “As long as you’re here, no liquor. I don’t hold with drinking.”

      “That won’t be a problem, Miz Pow— Ma’am.”

      She barely had time to nod before he put his hat on his head then jogged toward the barn. She stared through the haze of rain until he opened the door and drew his big black horse inside. Lifting a hand toward her, he shut them both inside.

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