Married by Christmas. Karen Kirst

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СКАЧАТЬ her. If she knew the danger he was putting her and her sister in, she’d no doubt pack him off so fast his head would spin.

      “I saw something I shouldn’t have.” He debated how many details to divulge. Decided she was strong enough to handle the truth. “Sheriff Tate was murdered two nights ago.”

      Trembling fingers lifted to cover parted lips. Eyes huge in her face, she came closer and sank down on the wooden chair facing the bed. “You saw this?”

      Every last gory detail. The helplessness resurfaced in his chest. He’d never be able to oust Tate’s horrified expression from his memory. Never. “I was out riding later than usual, had delayed setting up camp because I’d decided to swing by my folks’ for a quick visit.” No use mentioning he’d planned to stop here first and leave parcels of fresh deer meat, something he’d been doing off and on since that encounter in August. Anonymously, of course. “I stumbled upon a nightmare. At first, they didn’t see me. Preoccupied with their prey, I suppose.” His lip curled with disgust. “They had him surrounded. On his knees, hands tied behind his back. The leader, she—”

      “She?” Becca blurted, dumbfounded. “Surely you don’t mean...”

      “Knocked me back, too.” He shifted, sucked in a harsh breath at the resulting ache. His leg throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

      “Do you need more pain relief?” She scooted closer, her too-perceptive eyes grave.

      Beneath the covers, he fisted his hands. “No.” His brain was fuzzy enough without adding medicine to the mix. He had to focus on convincing her to help him get home.

      “What was a female doing with a gang of criminals?”

      “I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but to me she looked like...” His jaw tensed, picturing the bitter reproach marring the blonde’s features. “She looked like a woman who’d been rebuffed.”

      “You think she and Tate were involved romantically?”

      “Could be. Or she was interested and he wasn’t.” Only, why kill him if it was a simple rejection? This woman had seemed deeply distressed.

      “There has to be more to it than that,” she echoed his unspoken sentiments. Tapping her chin, she mused, “Under what circumstances would a woman on the wrong side of the law associate with a lawman?”

      “I don’t know.” Though the lack of answers bothered him, the main issue here was justice. “I do know how to identify them, however, and I aim to do whatever it takes to make certain they pay for what they did. That’s why I need to see Shane Timmons.”

      Concern flowed over her features, and this time she didn’t attempt to hide it. “Did they get a good look at you?”

      “Hard to say. I was positioned on the edge of a clearing, and there was a full moon. The storm was still south of us. I know for certain they saw Rebel.”

      She nodded. “With his distinctive markings, he won’t be hard to identify.”

      And if they did glimpse Caleb’s face, his scar would make it easy for them to locate him.

      “Now do you understand why I have to leave?”

      Popping up, she began to pace. “I can’t let you go.”

      His heart suffered a series of palpitations. Oh, he knew she meant it literally, not figuratively. Still, the words hurled him backward in time to when they were teenagers, to when he’d envied Adam’s good fortune, had wondered what it would be like to have a girl like Becca—beautiful, sweet-natured, affectionate—head over heels in love with him.

      He’d cared about his best friend’s girl a little more than he should have.

      “You have to.”

      She whirled on him, hot color splashing across her cheekbones. “I don’t have to do anything. You are not leaving until you’ve improved or the doctor comes to take you away.”

      “Why, Rebecca Thurston, I do believe you’ve developed a backbone,” he drawled, fascinated by this unusual display of temper. Her eyes blazed with an internal strength not present when they’d been friends. What had happened in her life to forge such a change?

      * * *

      He’d noticed, had he? In his mind, she was still the naive, eager-to-please, hopelessly-in-love-with-love young girl with big dreams and an even bigger future. Well, things changed. People changed.

      That love-struck teenager was long gone. Did he realize he was the one responsible for her disappearance?

      “Yes, well, I’m all grown up now.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “And I’m obviously the only one thinking rationally at the moment.”

      Caleb didn’t immediately respond. The flicker of humor in his eyes sputtered out, and he studied her with his hooded, enigmatic gaze. Seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d changed. The old Caleb, rarely serious, had been armed with ready, lighthearted quips to combat each and every call to reason.

      “My presence here is putting you at risk.” Why are you placing my safety above your own? his expression prompted.

      Why indeed? He was right to be worried. The murder of a sheriff was a heinous crime, one that wouldn’t be taken lightly. Knowing this, the criminals responsible wouldn’t stop until they’d located the witness. If they’d seen his scar...

      Shivering, she rubbed her upper arms. The fire needed to be lighted, Flossy milked and the eggs collected. Breakfast cooked. Bread made.

      But first, this matter had to be settled. Because no matter what he’s done, I can’t in good conscience send him out there in his current condition.

      “Even if I brought Rebel to the front door and helped you mount him, you wouldn’t make it past the property fence. Your fever is indicative of an infection.”

      “The bullet could still be lodged in my leg. Did you check for an exit wound?”

      Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I didn’t think to.”

      “Is this your first gunshot wound?”

      “Is it your first?”

      “My first and only, I hope.” His lips compressed into a tight line, as if he was perturbed she’d ask such a thing. But how was she supposed to know what kind of life he’d led? He was rarely home anymore, preferring to spend most of his time hunting and trapping in the high country. A blessing, in her opinion.

      “I suppose I’ll need to check it,” she reluctantly acknowledged.

      Tending his wound while he was unconscious was one thing. Having him awake and watching her every move would strain her nerves to the limit.

      A lump in her throat, she approached the bed and, folding the quilts back, checked the compress. “I—I’ll try not to cause you further pain.”

      Eyes closed and face averted, he muttered, “Just do what you gotta do.”

      Gingerly slipping her hand beneath his knee, СКАЧАТЬ