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Whirlwind Groom
Debra Cowan


JOSIE WEBSTER WAS NOT A BORN KILLER…But her thirst for justice could make her one. The outlaw who'd murdered her parents and fiancé had gotten off scot-free. And now the only thing standing between her and vengeance fulfilled was Sheriff Davis Lee Holt, who held her quarry prisoner…and completely captured her heart!A woman with secrets needed watching, and lawman Davis Lee Holt intended to watch Josie Webster like a hawk. Why would a seamstress need shooting lessons? Or be curious about the jail? But after nursing her for a near-deadly snakebite, he faced a much more compelling problem: he loved a woman he couldn't trust!









The hard warmth of his body proved very distracting. “Do the ladies you know carry weapons, Sheriff?”


“We’re fixin’ to find out.”

His silky voice did things to her insides that she couldn’t recall having ever experienced with her late fiancé. “I don’t have a gun. I told you I want to learn how to shoot.”

His gaze slid down her body, then back up to meet her eyes. “Do you want me to search you?”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I will if you don’t show me what you’ve got hidden.”

“What kind of man are you that you would put your hands on me?”

“The kind who wants an answer,” he said hotly. “Now, either show me or I’ll get it myself.”

The thrill that shot through her veins told Josie she did not want this man touching her. She instinctively knew she wouldn’t forget it…!




Praise for new Historical author Debra Cowan’s previous titles


“Penning great emotional depth in her characters, Debra Cowan will warm the coldest of winter nights.”

—Romantic Times on Still the One

“Debra Cowan skillfully brings to vivid life all the complicated feelings of love and guilt when a moment of consolation turns into unexpected passion.”

—Romantic Times on One Silent Night

“The recurrent humor and vivid depiction of small-town Western life make Debra Cowan’s story thoroughly pleasurable.”

—Romantic Times on The Matchmaker




Whirlwind Groom

Debra Cowan







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To guys in white hats.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen




Chapter One


West Texas, 1884

T oday was the day and Josie Webster’s nerves were as twitchy as fat on a hot skillet. In the building September heat, she watched the jail of Whirlwind, Texas, and waited for her chance. Only a minute or so now, and she would have it.

Covered by shadows, she stood across the street from the sheriff’s office. The alleyway between the livery stable and saloon was warm, but at least out of the sun. Main Street, wide enough for two wagons to travel at once, bustled as people made their way through town for supplies or business. On the east end of town toward Abilene, a church at the center point of Main and North Street served as the school and had opened its doors to students almost two hours ago. The telegraph and post office as well as the Whirlwind Hotel shared the same side of the street as the jail.

Three doors to her left a thin, older man swept the porch in front of Haskell’s General Store. Directly across from her was the blacksmithy. No one paid a lick of attention to her.

Heart hammering in her chest, she patted the scalpel tucked inside the special sleeve she’d sewn into her bodice. Her doctor father had taught her and her mother how to use the instrument as a weapon after an attack by an old beau had nearly gotten her mother raped. The blade was a reassuring reminder that Josie would never be at the mercy of a killer like the one who sat in the jailhouse across from her.

Nearly two years ago, Ian McDougal had murdered her parents and fiancé in Galveston. Because of a corrupt judge, the outlaw had walked away without spending one night in jail. He and his brothers had resumed their killing spree throughout Texas. When the other three had been killed a few months ago in a shoot-out near Whirlwind, Ian had escaped. He had finally been captured near Austin by a U.S. Marshal. Now he awaited trial in this small town hundreds of miles from Josie’s home.

She had arrived the end of August, and in the four days since she had reached this breezy dry town on the other side of the vast state, she constantly felt parched, her throat gravelly. The stark air was quite a contrast to the thick, liquid air of her home on the Gulf.

So far, Whirlwind’s sheriff had followed the schedule Josie had observed the past few days. He had already finished his first cup of coffee, taken the prisoner out to relieve himself in the outhouse behind the jail and whittled something. Now it was time for the sheriff to leave his deputy in charge and go over to the Pearl Restaurant for the piece of pie he had every morning at nine-forty-five.

After distracting the deputy, she would be in and out of that jail before the sheriff finished his pie. Then she would finally be able to rest easy for the first time since the cold-blooded murders of her parents and fiancé, William Hill.

As the second hand on her watch clicked into place, the jail door opened and the sheriff stepped out. His fawn-colored cowboy hat didn’t hide the rugged lines of his face or the strong profile. He probably wasn’t more than eight or nine years older than Josie’s own twenty-one years and he looked like a man who could easily talk a girl out of her drawers. He was handsome in a powerful way with a disarming smile that might be able to tempt her to forget serious things and enjoy herself.

Thank goodness she wasn’t tempted. All she cared about was the lower-than-snake-spit murderer inside Whirlwind’s jail. For the past four days, she had seethed as the sheriff took a leisurely stroll after his morning break before going back to his office. Impatience prodded at her, but she wanted to do this right. McDougal was in jail just waiting for her and he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

The lanky sheriff sauntered down the steps, his boots finally touching dirt. A breath eased out of Josie, releasing some of the pressure squeezing her chest. The man paused, one thumb hooked in the waistband of his denims, one resting on the butt end of a gun strapped to his lean hips.

Go. Go on, she urged silently, her pulse spiking. She still had to get past the deputy, but that wouldn’t be hard.

The sheriff adjusted his hat, lifted a hand in greeting to the giant black man hammering an anvil at the smithy next door to the jail then turned toward the restaurant at his right.

But he didn’t head for the Pearl as she had expected. Instead he went the other way and started across the wide main street…straight for her!

His gaze narrowed on her like a gun sight. Her breath backed up in her throat. She would have run, but he had already seen her. Hightailing it out of there would only make him suspicious. She had no idea what she was about to do, but she had better come up with something.

When had he spotted her? This morning or before? She had thought herself well concealed and inconspicuous in the shadowy alley.

As the sheriff neared, she pasted a smile on her face. Her stomach shriveled into a knot.

“Howdy, ma’am.” He stopped inches away.

Her gaze crept up from dusty boots over long, long legs, lean hips and a massive chest to blue eyes. She hoped she was still smiling. “Hello.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you over here.” Davis Lee Holt tipped his hat, keeping his tone easy even though his senses were on full alert. That wasn’t due strictly to the petite beauty in front of him. Or the stunning green eyes studying him so warily. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, fine. I’m…new in town.”

He recalled seeing her get off the stage four days ago. He had waited and watched to see what she was up to, but he wasn’t waiting anymore. Last night, Ian McDougal had tried to escape.

The man had tuberculosis. Davis Lee had known of the condition even before Catherine Donnelly, now his cousin-in-law, had been forced several months ago by the oldest McDougal to use her nursing skills to ease Ian’s discomfort. Last night, the outlaw, the only living gang member, had been seized by a coughing fit. When Davis Lee’s sometime-deputy, Cody Tillman, had seen blood and gone inside the cell to help him, McDougal tried to overpower the man. The prisoner was too weak and Cody had subdued him soon enough, but the attempt had immediately made Davis Lee’s thoughts go to the brunette who had started skulking around town four days ago.

He flicked a glance at the swinging doors of Pete Carter’s saloon, which now also served as the stage stop. “Are you waitin’ on Pete?”

“Pete?”

Her accent was thick and honey-sweet. “He owns the saloon. Thought you might have business with him.”

“Lands, no. I’m a dressmaker.”

A dressmaker? That wasn’t in the least threatening, so why were his nerves twanging like new barbed wire? Why was she standing next to the saloon for the fourth day in a row?

He couldn’t ignore the pinch in his gut that told him the woman had some connection to Ian McDougal. His sweetheart maybe? Sister or some other relative? Davis Lee thumbed back his hat and asked pleasantly, “You just passin’ through, or are you thinkin’ about stayin’? Whirlwind could use a dressmaker. We don’t have one right now.”

“I suppose you know everyone in town.” She worried her lower lip.

“Yes, ma’am. And I watch the stage every day so I’ll know who might need a hand. I saw you get off the stage four days ago.”

Her eyes widened and he thought he saw a flicker of concern. Why? Had he interfered with something she planned to do?

“You remember seeing me get off the stage? That’s quite a memory, Sheriff.”

“It’s part of my job.” The fact was a man didn’t forget a face as pretty as hers. Especially a man who’d been made a fool of by a pretty face.

Her figure drew attention, too. She was small and perfectly proportioned. He had always favored a fuller bosom on a woman, but he found himself reconsidering that. Her pale green daydress fit just right, the square-necked bodice smoothing over small, high breasts and sleeking down a taut waist. His palms suddenly itched to touch and he tugged at his hat.

In the two years since he had been run out of Rock River and returned home, Davis Lee had taken to watching every passenger on every stage. He wouldn’t be taken unaware again.

Ever since that unfortunate incident in his last town, Davis Lee erred on the side of caution. He would’ve noticed this woman anyway because of her slender curves and air of confidence, but now he had a reason to keep an eye on her.

Maybe she had come to break McDougal out of jail or to provide a distraction while one of McDougal’s cronies sawed the bars from his cell window and helped him escape.

Davis Lee knew all about distractions, and he wasn’t falling for this one, no matter that she looked sweeter than fresh cream and smelled as tempting as rain. Her skin flushed in a way that made him wonder if she turned that delicious shade of pink all over in the right circumstances.

Annoyed at his line of thinking, he removed his hat and offered his hand. “I’m Davis Lee Holt.”

“Josie. Webster.” Though she accepted his handshake, she seemed to give the information reluctantly.

The name she gave was the same one she used at the Whirlwind Hotel. Davis Lee had already been there and checked the register on the sly so the clerk wouldn’t know. The last thing he needed was Penn Wavers blabbing. The near-deaf man was as big a gossip as any old woman. “You stayin’ at the Whirlwind?”

“For now. I’m thinking about opening a shop, but I heard about the outlaws around here.”

Her lips curved in an innocent, blinding smile and Davis Lee felt like he’d been kicked in the head. He slid his hat back on. “Is your family with you?”

“I’m alone.”

Which told him nothing. Her short, light-colored gloves prevented him from seeing if she wore a wedding ring. Was she married? Did she have children? Usually any small prod for information caused people to talk, especially women. Those who didn’t have anything to hide anyway.

She gave a small curtsy and stepped around him so that she now stood out in the open.

The mid-morning sun brought out a red tint in her brown hair, which she wore pulled away from her face with a ribbon so that the thick wavy mass tumbled down her back. Her velvety-looking skin had a slight golden cast; a bunch of freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose.

She was the prettiest baggage he’d seen in a good long while. Since Betsy—or whatever her real name was—in Rock River, truth be told. The memory of the woman who’d stolen Davis Lee’s heart and half the townspeople’s money squashed the interest sparked by Josie Webster.

She eyed the street. “I thought I should find out for myself if this town is safe.”

“I take my job very seriously.” He wondered what secrets she hid behind those pretty green eyes, because he was sure she had some. “I can’t provide individual protection for everyone, but my deputy and I do a pretty good job. We had some trouble a while back with the McDougals, but that’s over now.”

Thanks to a U.S. Marshal named Waterson Calhoun, Ian McDougal had been captured near Austin and now sat in jail waiting to get what was coming to him. Since Davis Lee didn’t know if Miz Webster had told the truth about why she was in Whirlwind, he saw no reason to tell her that the sole survivor of the outlaw gang was locked up snug across the street.

“Your…diligence is reassuring,” she said without meeting his gaze. “I do like what I’ve seen of the town so far. If I decide to stay, I’d want to feel safe.”

“We all do, ma’am. Three of the McDougals are dead, but I heard the last one has been locked up somewhere.”

“That makes me feel better.”

He carefully searched her face for some sign that she knew the outlaw, that she had more than a passing interest in the man. “You said you were from Austin?”

“No, Galveston,” she replied easily.

She hadn’t said at all, but Davis Lee knew from the automatic way she’d responded that she was probably telling the truth. He also noticed the irritation that flared in her eyes when she gave the information.

“Thank you, Sheriff. You’ve put my mind at ease.”

Funny, he thought she acted a trifle vexed. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call on me. Like I said, Whirlwind could use a seamstress. Hope you stay.”

She nodded, her gaze flicking past him to the jail for just a moment.

Was she afraid? Or was she trying to figure out how she could get inside to see Ian McDougal? If she were, she’d have to go through Davis Lee first. “I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about in Whirlwind.”

“Thank you.” She bid him good day and stepped up on the saloon’s landing, making her way down the walk toward Haskell’s General Store.

Watching the inviting sway of her hips, he stroked his chin. Maybe Miz Josie Webster’s only concern truly was about moving to Whirlwind. Maybe she had been watching the town to reassure herself about its safety.

His eyes narrowed. Yessir, and cows had wings.




Chapter Two


T he sheriff was going to be a problem, Josie fumed as she ducked inside Haskell’s General Store just to escape the hard gaze boring into her back. A thin man, only about six inches taller than her five-foot-three, was showing a customer to the boots in the far corner of the store. Although she took in the colorful bolts of fabric, barrels of nails and a stack of wooden tubs around her, her mind was on Davis Lee Holt.

She burned to march back to him and demand he give Ian McDougal over to her, but she knew that would be futile. In the past two years, her faith in the law had been shaken. Or perhaps she had simply had her eyes opened.

The fact that Ian McDougal had run out of her house and smack into her after killing her parents and fiancé had been dismissed out of hand. Despite the attorney and sheriff who knew she told the truth, Judge Shelton Horn had declared her testimony wasn’t enough to convene a trial for the murderer. But the real reason the judge had let McDougal walk away was because he had never gotten over the fact that Josie’s mother had chosen her father over him all those years ago.

The thought of the people Josie had loved and lost tightened her chest. And the prospect of having to deal with Whirlwind’s lawman settled a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sheriff Holt threw her off balance. She had never planned on telling him about Galveston and yet she’d been so confounded when he walked right up to her that she had blurted out where she was from the instant he asked.

She certainly couldn’t watch the jail from that alley anymore so she had to find another place. And if Holt kept interfering, she would have to stay in Whirlwind a lot longer than she had planned.

She had to be extremely careful next time, but she had every intention of getting access to Ian McDougal.

Then killing him.

Up close Sheriff Holt was rugged and compelling and one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. It wasn’t hard to imagine that his blue eyes would go razor sharp if he were crossed. And the stubborn jaw told her that the man could intimidate if he chose, tin star or no tin star.

Surely the sheriff was gone by now. She edged between a wooden crate full of brooms and a barrel of pickles. The strong smell of brine reached her as she peeked out the wide front window of the general store. When she didn’t see the tall, lanky lawman, she left and started across the street for the Whirlwind Hotel. Another hotel, still under construction, stood at the other end of town, but Josie would’ve chosen the Whirlwind anyway because of its view of the jail.

Halting for a passing wagon, she mentally calculated the money stashed in her hidden skirt pocket. Being as good a seamstress as her mother, Josie had taken on Virginia Webster’s customers after her mother’s death so she had money to pay for her stay at the hotel. But she didn’t know how long she might need to stay. She had to keep back a good part of her money for when she finished with McDougal and fled town.

Sunlight glittered off the windows of the town’s businesses. Josie shaded her eyes as she continued across the street, angling away from the jail and toward the hotel three buildings away.

How was she going to keep an eye on the outlaw now that she knew the sheriff was keeping an eye on her? Her spot in the alley had been perfect, but thanks to Holt, she couldn’t go back there.

She had passed the telegraph and post office when an idea hit her. Stepping back a few feet into the street, she peered up at the hotel then shifted her gaze to the jail.

Smiling, her heels clicking against the planked porch, Josie hurried into the hotel and approached the long waxed wood counter.

Penn Wavers, the elderly clerk, slumped in a chair in the corner, snoring. Josie knew the gangly man was nearly deaf so she stomped on the floor, hoping the vibrations would wake him if her loud voice didn’t. “Mr. Wavers!”

“Huh?” His head drooped and he bolted upright, his long white hair flying. He blinked a couple of times as he stepped to the counter. “Oh, hello, miss.”

“It looks like I’ll be staying longer than I planned. I wonder if I might get a different room? Maybe one on the west side and closer to the front of the hotel?”

“Is there something wrong?” Age filmed his blue eyes, but they were kind. “If so, I’ll fix it.”

“No, sir. Nothing like that.” She smiled. “It’s just that I’m a dressmaker and since I have to sit for such long periods, I like to watch the sights. It relieves the tedium.”

“I’ve been told it’s louder in those front rooms. Wouldn’t you rather have something else?”

“I don’t mind the noise. I’m used to it, being from Galveston and all. I’m a little homesick.”

“Well, miss, I don’t mind moving you, but those rooms cost a little extra.”

“Even though they’re noisier?”

“They’re a mite bigger,” he explained apologetically.

More money? She had brought a few pieces of sewing from Galveston to finish up for some of her mother’s regular customers, but she wouldn’t be paid until she delivered the items. What would she do after that? She stared out the window, finally registering that the curtain hanging there was faded and worn.

“What would you think about making a bargain with me, Mr. Wavers?”

“What kind of barn?”

“No, a bargain,” she said louder.

“Oh, a bargain.” He eyed her for a moment. “What did you have in mind?”

“A west room closer to the front of the hotel in exchange for new curtains.”

He glanced at the faded calico drooping limply at the two large front windows. “If I buy the fabric, would you be willing to make some new tablecloths for the dining hall, too?”

That would be perfect! She pretended to consider.

He leaned in. “You could trade that for room and meals, as well.”

Her one meal here, cooked by Mrs. Wavers, had been delicious. “All right, you’ve got a deal.”

They shook on it, both smiling.

Mr. Wavers reached into a pigeonhole beneath the counter and handed her a key to her new room. “When can you start on those curtains?”

“Today if you like. Would you like me to pick out the fabric or would you like to do it?”

“I’ll leave that to you. The tablecloths, too.”

“Should I ask Mrs. Wavers if she has a preference as to color?”

“She can’t tell blue from green.” He gestured at Josie’s well-fitted cotton daydress. “Besides, you seem to know what you’re doing. I think she’d agree.”

“Wonderful! I’ll move my things then pick out something at Haskell’s.”

“I’ll go tell Charlie to put whatever you need on the hotel’s account. This will work out mighty fine.”

“I think so, too.”

“You must like Whirlwind if you’re planning to stay.”

“It seems like a nice place.” She glanced out the window, half expecting to find Sheriff Holt staring back at her. “I met the sheriff today. He seems…pleasant. What is he like?”

“Heh.” Mr. Wavers peered at her. “You sweet on him?”

“No! Nothing like that.” Just because she got a shiver when thinking of those piercing blue eyes did not mean she was sweet on him. She simply wanted to know what she was up against. “I’m…curious.”

“He’s a fine man. Had his share of troubles, but who hasn’t?”

Josie nodded, wondering what troubles the lawman had experienced. He had plainly wanted to know if she were married; she wondered the same about him. Perhaps his coming over to her only meant he was dedicated about doing his job, but Josie knew she couldn’t let down her guard around him.

“Thank you for letting me switch rooms, Mr. Wavers,” she said in a raised voice. “I’ll go move my things.”

She patted his hand and headed upstairs, smiling broadly.

Between the sewing she had brought to finish and the new curtains and tablecloths for the hotel, she would be busier than a one-armed bank robber. She needed to work quickly on the hotel’s items since she didn’t know how soon she would be leaving.

But for now she could watch the jail from her new room without attracting notice. When the time was right, she would make sure Ian McDougal saw justice. And that handsome sheriff wasn’t going to get in her way.



It had been two days since Davis Lee had seen Josie Webster’s pretty little hide in the alley. Since he’d seen her anywhere. So where was she? Was she still watching his jail? In case she was, he had taken the precaution of rearranging his schedule, which had caused him to miss his hot pie. If she had left town using the stage or a rig rented from the livery, he would’ve known.

Either she had left town by some other means or she was up to something. Intending to find out which, he shackled McDougal to the bars of his cell before going outside and locking the door to his office. He walked a slow but thorough path through town. No sign of her. When she’d left him the other day she had slipped into Haskell’s, so Davis Lee made the general store his last stop before the hotel. Maybe Charlie had seen her.

Davis Lee walked into the store, catching the sweet tang of apples as he said hello to Cal Doyle’s wife, Lizzie, who was leaving.

Charlie Haskell stood behind the scratched wooden counter, polishing his spectacles. The store owner was small-framed and spare. “Morning, Davis Lee. What can I do for you today?”

Mitchell Orr, Charlie’s eighteen-year-old nephew who helped in the store and kept the books, ducked through the faded blue curtain separating the store from the back office. He was dressed just as his uncle in dark trousers and a white shirt with suspenders. His wiry arms held several bolts of white fabric and a red, blue and yellow calico. “Hello, Sheriff.”

“Hey, Mitchell.” Davis Lee greeted the blond-haired boy before speaking to his uncle. “Just had a question, Charlie. A woman came in here the other day. She’s new to town. Has brown or well, maybe brownish-red hair—”

“You mean that pretty little thing who’s staying at the Whirlwind Hotel?” Charlie peered at him over the top of his glasses, his brown eyes sparking with interest.

Mitchell stopped at the edge of the counter. “Josie Webster?” he asked eagerly.

Davis Lee figured that a hundred unfamiliar women could have paraded through Haskell’s General Store, and Charlie and Mitchell would’ve known Josie. They weren’t likely to forget that heart-shaped face or that creamy skin. Or the graceful curves that made a man crazy to put his hands on her. He sure hadn’t been able to forget. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“She’s been in a couple of times,” Mitchell offered.

“When was the last time y’all saw her?”

Charlie thought for a minute.

“She was in yesterday for more thread,” the younger man said.

“And the day before to buy fabric for the hotel,” Charlie added. “She’s making new curtains and tablecloths for Penn and Esther.”

“Is that right?” So it appeared she had decided to stay, at least for a while. Did that decision have anything to do with Ian McDougal?

Mitchell nodded at his burden. “This is the rest of the fabric Miss Webster ordered. We didn’t have all she needed so I had to go over to Abilene. I about cleaned out that store.” He edged his way out from behind the counter. “I’ll take this over to her at the hotel, Uncle. Won’t be long.”

“Hold up there, Mitchell.” Davis Lee stepped in front of him. “I already have to stop by the hotel. I’d be happy to deliver that for you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

“Since I’m already going there, it won’t put me out.” He didn’t need an excuse to talk to her, but delivering the fabric provided him with a better chance of getting into her room, seeing if he could find anything to confirm his suspicions about her.

Charlie motioned for his nephew to give the cloth to Davis Lee. “She in some kind of trouble?”

“No.” She is trouble. And he aimed to find out how much. He took the stack from the boy, who looked disappointed. “Just saving you a trip.”

“If I were twenty years younger, I’d take it myself.” Charlie chuckled. “Can’t say as I blame you, Sheriff.”

Davis Lee grinned, not bothering to correct the man’s assumption that he was romantically interested in Josie Webster.

A few minutes later, Davis Lee stood at the hotel’s registration desk, loaded down with four bolts of fabric. “Penn, I’ve got a delivery here for Miz Webster,” he said loudly. “Is she here?”

“I believe so.” The man’s wizened features creased in a smile. “You working for Charlie now, Sheriff?”

“Just helping out.”

“She’s in room 214.”

“Thanks.” Davis Lee started up the scratched pine staircase, his boots scuffing the freshly swept wood.

“No, no, that’s not right, Sheriff,” Penn said. “She’s not in that room anymore.”

Halfway up the staircase, Davis Lee turned.

“She’s in room 200 now. I forgot she asked to move a couple of days ago.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Said she wanted a room at the front of the hotel so she could have a view while she sewed.”

Davis Lee’s eyes narrowed. That was why he hadn’t seen her in the alley since that encounter a couple of days ago. Since he already thought she was hiding something, this news made him even more determined to find out what.

“Thanks, Penn. I’ll get this stuff up to her.” He reached the top of the second-story landing and turned to the right, going down the hall until he got to the last room. A room he knew had a bird’s-eye view of town. And his jail.

She answered his knock right away, her eyes widening when she opened the door. “Sheriff!”

He couldn’t tell if it was surprise or dismay he heard in her voice.

Her hair was down, sliding around her shoulders in a silky curtain of rich brown with a shy touch of red. She recovered, her green eyes cool and unreadable. “You have my fabric.”

“I told Charlie I’d deliver it since I was coming over anyway.” He’d forgotten just how deeply green her eyes were. And how tiny her waist.

She stared at him for a minute. Long enough for her sweet, fresh scent—honeysuckle?—to slide into his lungs. Long enough for him to deduce by the way her lavender skirts clung to her legs that she wasn’t wearing petticoats. At least not more than one. A heat he hadn’t felt in a long time worked its way under his skin.

He cleared his throat. “You want me to put this down somewhere?”

She blinked. “Yes. Sorry. Come in.”

She opened the door wider and he walked inside, noting she left the door open. Which was a good thing seeing as how he had also just determined she wasn’t wearing a corset, either.

“I— You can just put them on the bed.” Her voice was breathy.

Davis Lee walked over to the neatly made bed that was pushed into the far corner of the room. Two lengths of fabric, one white and one calico, were folded neatly at its foot. He laid the new bolts next to them.

The room was bigger than most of the others in the hotel, but not grand by any means. On the wall beside the bed was a plain dressing table with a wall mirror and washbasin. A waist-high dresser backed against the wall across from the foot of the bed. The middle and right side of the room was empty except for a length of calico spread across the floor. A pair of scissors lay on top as if her cutting had been interrupted. A chair sat at the partially open window facing town.

He didn’t have to walk over there to confirm that she had a clear and close view of the jail, but he did. A short lacy curtain hung at the top of the window and he ducked his head to keep it out of his eyes. Yep, sure enough, this window provided a direct view to the jail. And anyone going in or out.

“Uh, thank you for bringing the fabric. You certainly didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you have things you need to get back to.”

The shimmer of unease in her voice had him leaning one shoulder against the window frame as if he had all day to spend. So far he hadn’t seen anything in here except fabric and furniture. And her. “You gettin’ settled in?”

“Yes.” She offered him a tentative smile, staying over by the door.

Her gaze dropped to his badge and he got the distinct impression she was wishing him gone. “Penn said you changed rooms.”

“I— Yes.” She gave a stiff laugh. “I wouldn’t think that would merit him giving a report to the sheriff.”

“He just mentioned it. Any reason why he shouldn’t?”

Her gaze searched his, her fingers tangling in the folds of her skirt. “Of course not.”

He hooked a thumb into the front pocket of his trousers. “Interesting that you would want to move.”

“I don’t know why.” She shrugged, leaving the door to walk over and snatch a lavender ribbon from the top of the dresser. She pulled her hair back and secured it with jerky movements.

He tried to ignore the way her bodice pulled taut across her breasts. “It’s noisier in this part of the hotel.”

Her chin angled slightly. He had obviously come for a reason besides delivering her fabric. “I like noise.”

“You’ve got a view of the whole town from here.” His gaze slid down her body then back up, his eyes glinting.

Under his hot scrutiny, her pulse hitched. “I—I like to have something to look at while I’m working.”

He stroked his chin. “Like me.”

“I did not change rooms to watch you!”

He grinned and she felt a slow pull in her belly. “I meant I like to have a view while I’m working, too.”

“Oh.” Heat flushed her face. The man flustered her six ways to Sunday. And he was entirely too amused.

She wanted to get his handsome self out of here. “I hardly see what you find so fascinating about the whole subject.”

“Don’t you?” he asked softly.

That set off a flurry of panic in her stomach and it wasn’t due strictly to the fact that he might know the real reason she had moved into a room overlooking the jail.

Curling her fingers into her damp palms, she asked tartly, “Is changing hotel rooms against the law, Sheriff? Are you planning to haul me to jail?”

His gaze moved slowly, leisurely over her as if he found the prospect appealing. “If I did, I’d have to put you in a cell next to my prisoner. Which wouldn’t be good.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” She bit back the temper that threatened, her nerves snapping. She moved to the open door, not caring if she appeared rude. “If that’s all, I really have a lot of work to do.”

He started toward her, moving with a smooth grace for such a large man. His gaze swept the fabric that lay on the floor, then the bed. “It appears you’ll be busy for quite a while.”

“Yes,” she murmured, her hand tight on the doorknob.

He definitely unsettled her. She told herself it was because of the suspicion in his eyes. Not because they were alone in her room with only a deaf old man downstairs if she needed help.

Davis Lee stopped at the door, close enough that his shirtsleeve brushed hers. Her fresh scent teased him, bringing to mind the last time he’d purposely gone to a woman’s room. It had been over two years, but not long enough to make him forget how a pretty face and sultry eyes could hide betrayal and lies. “If you need anything, Miz Webster, you just holler out that window. I’m sure I’ll be able to hear you.”

“Yes, all right. Thank you.”

Tension bowed her shoulders and he could feel her urging him out the door. Even though he didn’t like the way his body tightened at her nearness, he grinned and tipped his hat. “Good day, ma’am.”

She mumbled goodbye and nearly closed the door on the heel of his boot.

He gave her door one last look. Yeah, she was definitely up to something.



Three days passed before Josie felt confident enough to make another try at McDougal. Since the sheriff had been to her room, she had been careful to do her spying as discreetly as she could, keeping to the corner of the window.

Holt had changed his schedule, but now that she had this view of the jail, she wasn’t concerned. She could usually tell how long he would stay somewhere depending on where he went. He was wont to linger at the Pearl Restaurant and Ef Gerard’s blacksmithy.

On Saturday afternoon, she stood at the window’s edge, drumming her sewing-sore fingers on the wall of her hotel room as she waited for the sheriff to leave the jail. She had worked from dawn until dark every day to finish the hotel’s curtains and they now hung one story below in the front windows. The length for one tablecloth had been cut, but her mind wasn’t on the task.

There! She saw the sheriff leave the jail and go into the restaurant. She hurried downstairs, wondering where he lived. He didn’t sleep every night at the jail, and on those nights his deputy stayed there. Once outside, she ducked around to the back of the hotel and made her way behind the telegraph and post office, then the Pearl. Rounding the corner of the restaurant, she sidled up the west wall and peered out at the street.

A few people milled about, but Josie didn’t see the sheriff.

She stepped into the open and tried to be casual as she walked to the hitching post in front of the jail where the deputy had left his horse. He had arrived a few minutes before Sheriff Holt left.

The air was pleasantly warm today, but that wasn’t the cause of the dampness forming between her breasts. Pausing as if to admire the bay mare who stood placidly, Josie slid her fingers into the looped reins and loosened the leather before she moved away. She passed two older women then ducked into the alley between the jail and the blacksmithy.

Making sure there was no one nearby, Josie threw a stone and hit the horse square on the hock of its left rear leg. The mare nickered and shied away, pulling the reins loose from the hitching post. Dancing into the street, she trotted off.

A second later, Josie heard the jail door open and bang against the wall. Boots thudded down the wooden steps.

“Dad burn it!”

The young, broad-shouldered deputy whom she’d seen with Whirlwind’s sheriff thundered past her, putting two fingers in his mouth and letting out a shrill whistle. The mare kept going; the man followed.

Josie checked the opposite direction then hurried up the steps and slipped inside the jail. Sheriff Holt’s office smelled faintly of soap and pine. Wood shavings littered the floor around the leg of a wide oak desk.

Her gaze paused on a creased Wanted poster boasting Ian McDougal’s face. The paper was tacked onto an otherwise-blank space of wall behind the desk. Three shotguns lined up behind the glass door of a tall gun cabinet. A door in the opposite corner led into a back room. The cells had to be back there.

Her heart hammering in her chest, she reached into her bodice for the scalpel. Knowing McDougal was only feet away had her throat closing up. Doubt slashed through her. Could she really do this?

She closed her eyes and conjured up the last images she had of her parents and William. Their sightless eyes had been trained on the ceiling of her home. Blood spattered the floor and the door. They had died horribly. Her family deserved justice. Yes, she could do this.

Taking a deep breath and sliding her sweaty palm down to a more comfortable position on the thin, ridged handle, she started toward the raspy whistling coming from the back room. It was McDougal. She knew it.

The murdering bastard was finally going to pay for killing everyone she had loved.

She gripped the scalpel so hard the steel gouged into her palm. All she had to do was get close to him.

She reached the door, her steps faltering at the thought of facing the worthless, no-account cur. She reminded herself of the nearly two years she had spent in the Galveston County sheriff’s office checking every day to see if McDougal had been captured.

Her heartbeat hammering in her ears, she gripped the doorknob.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The now-familiar voice coming from behind her lashed her already-raw nerves and she nearly dropped the scalpel. No! She quickly slipped the blade into the hidden pocket of her bodice and turned with a bright smile on her face, praying Holt couldn’t see her heart banging against her ribs. “Hello, Sheriff. I was looking for you.”

“Is that so?” He pushed his hat back and planted his hands on lean hips. His eyes narrowed as he glanced about the empty room. “Where’s my deputy?”

“No one was here when I came in.” That wasn’t a lie, but still her pulse raced.

“There was a commotion outside so I went to check on it.” He closed the front door and moved toward her, his boots ominously soft on the pine floor. Worn denim sleeked down his long legs. The chambray shirt he wore looked brand-spanking new. “You must have heard it, too.”

“Yes. It sounded like someone was leaving town in a hurry.”

“Weren’t you just the tiniest bit curious about what was going on?”

Oh, dear. He looked fit to be tied. His eyes had turned a dark stormy blue, suspicious and hard. She refused to panic. She’d dealt with this man—this big man—before. And she was prepared this time. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

“There’s a prisoner back there, Miz Webster.” He inclined his head toward the door behind her. “It’s not a good idea for you to be in here alone.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “I guess not.”

Despite the day’s heat, she wished she hadn’t forgotten her gloves. Her hands were clammy and shaking awfully.

“You said you were looking for me?” Holt stepped around her to check the door, once more between her and McDougal.

“Oh, yes.” She cleared her throat. “I wonder if you might know someone who can teach me to shoot?”

“To shoot?”

“Yes. You know, a gun.”

Irritation crossed his features as he moved to stand in front of her again. “I didn’t think you meant a slingshot.”

“Well?” She hoped he would believe she had come to the jail only for this reason.

He crossed his arms and studied her. “I just can’t figure you, Miz Webster.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think your being in my jail has something to do with Ian McDougal.”

“Sheriff!” the prisoner yelled. “What’s going on out there?”

Josie stiffened. She did not want the outlaw to see her. Or know she was here until she chose.

“Just talkin’ to a visitor.” Sheriff Holt edged closer, causing her to step away. “What do you say, Miz Webster?”

“About what?” She could barely get the words out through her tight throat.

“You seem fascinated with my prisoner,” he said softly. “Why is that?”

“I’m not.” She clenched one fist in the folds of her skirt and tried to look curious rather than nervous. “Are you saying your prisoner is one of the McDougal gang? You didn’t tell me that the other day.”

“Don’t recall you askin’, but I think you already know he is.” Holt advanced again, forcing her against the wall. “Are you his sweetheart?”

“No!” The thought made her stomach seize up. She scooted down the wall in front of him, but he shifted his large body, trapping her against the door.

“A relative? His sister maybe?”

“Absolutely not.” How could he think her related to that murdering criminal? “I’ve heard about the things he and his brothers have done. I don’t appreciate being referred to as part of their family.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate being lied to and I think that’s what you’re doing.”

“I never!”

“What were you hiding when I walked in?”

“Hiding? Nothing. I—”

He leaned in and she pressed her shoulder blades flat against the wood at her back. Holt planted a hand on either side of her. “Something up your sleeve? A derringer maybe? A file? Some kind of weapon?”

She struggled to keep her composure though the hard warmth of his body proved very distracting. “Do the ladies you know carry weapons, Sheriff?”

“We’re fixin’ to find out.”

His silky voice did things to her insides that she couldn’t recall having ever experienced with William. “Derringer? I don’t have a gun. I told you I want to learn how to shoot.”

His gaze slid down her body then back up to meet her eyes. “Do you want me to search you?”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I will if you don’t show me what you’ve got hidden.”

“What kind of man are you that you would put your hands on me?”

“The kind who wants an answer,” he said hotly. “Now either show me or I’ll get it myself.”

The thrill that shot through her veins told Josie she did not want this man touching her. She instinctively knew she wouldn’t forget it.

A clanging sounded from the other room. “Sheriff, I’m thirsty.”

“Shut up.” Though Holt spoke to the prisoner, he never took his eyes off Josie.

She realized the noise of metal on metal was the sound of McDougal banging a tin cup or plate against the bars.

The sheriff dipped his head a fraction, his breath soft against her temple. She smelled leather and soap and man. “What’s it gonna be?”

Showing him her scalpel proved nothing, Josie told herself. She angled her chin, hoping he couldn’t see how she trembled all over. “Very well. I do have a weapon. I’ll get it.”

She dipped a hand inside her square-necked gingham bodice.

The sheriff drew back, eyes widening. “What are you doin’?”

“Getting my weapon.” If she weren’t so rattled, she might have laughed at the expression on his face—half anticipation, half stone-cold fear that she might expose herself.

She pulled the blade from between her breasts and saw his eyes darken. Not with curiosity or surprise, but with raw, hot desire. Her stomach did a slow drop to her feet.

“What—” he cleared his throat “—the heck is that?”

The fire in his gaze sent a tingle to her toes and she swallowed hard. “It’s a scalpel.”

“A doctor’s instrument?”

She nodded.

“I thought you said you were a dressmaker.”

“I am.”

He frowned at the weapon’s short silver blade. “You beat all, lady. What are you planning to do with that?”

“Defend myself.” She pressed harder against the door, trying to escape the feel of his lean thighs, the warmth from his body. “My father was a doctor and he taught my mother and me how to use this.”

“Then why do you need to learn how to shoot?”

“With the scalpel, I have to be really close to someone. Like I am to you.”

He eased back slightly, frowning.

She tried not to smile. “But I have no defense if someone were to shoot at me.”

“Just what can you do with that thing?”

“Stab it in someone’s windpipe or eye. If I go deep enough, I can slice into this big vein here.” She touched the side of her neck.

The sheriff eyed the scalpel warily. “You already seem plenty dangerous to me. I’m not sure that you having a gun is a good idea.”

If she had known how to use a gun two years ago, her family might still be alive. “Are you saying you won’t help me find a teacher?”

“Are you saying you’ve decided to make a home in Whirlwind?”

“Uh, yes.” From the excruciatingly slow way her plan was progressing, she would have to. At this rate, she’d be a year older before she ever got to McDougal. “But Whirlwind seems less…civilized than Galveston. I would just feel safer if I knew how to use a gun.”

“And you’re going to open a dressmaker shop?”

She laughed lightly. “That’s the only skill I have.”

Holt stared at her for a long minute, his eyes hooded beneath his hat. “I’ll teach you to shoot.”

“You? But I thought—”

“Change your mind?”

“No.” But maybe she should.

“Then I’ll teach you. I’m good with guns and I can show you the proper way to handle them.”

“Could you give me a lesson every day?” She needed to check on McDougal as often as possible.

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Oh, good. Thank you, Sheriff Holt.” Why was he so willing to help her? Her smile felt overly bright as she realized exactly what their deal meant.

He finally stepped back a few inches. “If we’re going to see each other every day, you should call me Davis Lee.”

“All right.” She wouldn’t. “I’ll see you in the morning then, bright and early.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. I’ll be in church. Won’t you?”

She hesitated. She and her parents had regularly attended church in Galveston. It was the one place she had been able to find a small amount of peace after the murders. But she had come here to kill a man. “Church?”

“It’s at the end of Main Street. You can’t miss it.”

“Oh, yes.” She recalled the white frame building with the steeple, and a part of her wanted to be there tomorrow.

“I’ll see you here on Monday then. Make it about six-thirty or seven in the evening. I’ll have to get my other deputy, Jake, to guard the prisoner.”

“All right. Monday.” Tarnation!

She would be spending far more time with the sheriff than she wanted. Despite the opportunity she now had to wheedle information about McDougal out of the lawman, she had the uneasy sense that Holt had agreed to teach her to shoot for the very same reason she had asked—so he could keep an eye on her. She didn’t like that at all.




Chapter Three


W hy in the Sam Hill had Josie Webster been in his jail? Davis Lee was still chewing on that question the next morning during church. He knew exactly how she had managed to wind up in his office the minute he left it. And it was mighty suspicious that Jake’s horse just happened to spook at the same time.

Davis Lee didn’t know what to make of the woman. When she had pulled that scalpel out of her bodice, he’d nearly swallowed his teeth. The last thing he needed was to replay the image of her hand slipping between her breasts. He couldn’t seem to stop it though he tried hard to focus instead on the doubts she raised in him.

Maybe he was suspicious because the first time he had seen Josie, desire had hit him hard and fast. He didn’t trust such raw instant want. It had gotten him in a passel of trouble before and he wasn’t giving in to it again. Still, he spent more time thinking about the intriguing brunette than Reverend Scoggins’s sermon.

Catching her in his jail reinforced Davis Lee’s certainty that she was up to something. Which was why he had gone straight to Ef and gotten a big padlock for McDougal’s cell. One reason—the only reason—he had agreed to teach her to shoot was to see if she was comfortable with guns and knew how to handle them. The woman knew how to use a scalpel, for crying out loud. It was possible she knew how to use a gun, as well.

He had no proof, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she had some connection to McDougal. Her request for shooting lessons had seemed too ready. Prepared almost.

After church he turned around and saw her rising from the back pew. The burn of desire he felt didn’t surprise him, but the relief that she was here and not slipping inside his jail again did.

She stepped outside and started down the stairs, but the reverend stopped her. Keeping an eye on her, Davis Lee moved into the aisle as his brother, Riley, and his wife, Susannah, gathered up their baby. He greeted Cora Wilkes and her brother, Loren Barnes, who had come to Whirlwind about two months ago to help his widowed sister.

From the corner of his eye, Davis Lee saw Josie move down the steps then stop to speak to Pearl Anderson. This time he walked out on the landing and she glanced up. When their gazes locked, he nodded and met her at the bottom.

He greeted Pearl as she walked past him to speak to someone else, but his attention stayed on Josie.

“Sheriff,” she said.

“Davis Lee.” He smiled. The peach dress she wore accentuated her breasts and small waist. The color became her, warming her golden skin and deepening the green of her eyes. He couldn’t help wondering if the deep-cut bodice filled with white pleating hid her scalpel. “Nice to see you, Miz Webster. Did you enjoy the service?”

“Yes, I did. Did you?”

She was about the same height as Susannah, and she was small. A small brown hat circled by a ribbon matching her dress sat jauntily on her head, crowning the mass of hair she’d worn up today. A tiny mole on her collarbone peeked out at him. “Reverend Scoggins always has something good to say.”

A smile curved her lips. “That’s the least committed answer I’ve ever heard, Sheriff.”

He grinned, moving his gaze to her face. “I have to say I’m glad to see you here and not in my jail. Did you come to repent?”

She tilted her head, looking more serious than he’d seen before. “You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe. Are you still interested in your shooting lessons?”

“Oh, yes. I think it’s something I should do.”

“All right, then.”

“You’ll still teach me?”

“Yes.” Having been hornswoggled before, Davis Lee knew he should keep a distance from her, but he needed to find out whatever he could about this woman.

Judging from his experience with her so far, he wouldn’t get far by asking her questions, but he could learn plenty by observing her up close.

“Davis Lee, we’re expecting you for lunch.”

He turned at the sound of his sister-in-law’s voice. “I’m looking forward to it, Susannah. We’re not having biscuits, are we?”

Riley laughed as he walked up with his blond-haired daughter resting happily on his shoulder. Lorelai wasn’t Riley’s blood, but no one could tell him that. Davis Lee had never seen his brother love anyone as much as he loved that little girl and her mother.

“If you two don’t behave, I will cook biscuits,” Susannah said. “And I’ll purposely make them hard as rocks.”

Davis Lee chuckled. He liked his sister-in-law more every time he was around her. She and Riley had been married only about five months. For a while Davis Lee had wondered if the two hardheaded idiots would ever realize their feelings for one another.

Thanks to her brother, a pregnant Susannah had come to Whirlwind under the impression that Riley wanted to marry her, but he hadn’t been the least bit interested. At first.

Davis Lee felt Josie step away and he turned to her. “Y’all need to meet one of our newest citizens. This is Josie Webster. Miz Webster, this is my brother Riley and his wife, Susannah.”

“And our daughter, Lorelai.” Susannah touched the baby’s back with one hand as she shook Josie’s hand warmly with the other. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” Josie gave a soft smile.

Riley smiled. “Have you just arrived in town?”

“About a week ago.”

Davis Lee noticed she told the truth easily on that point. “Miz Webster is a dressmaker. She’s going to open a shop here.”

“You’d be very welcome,” Susannah said.

“Thank you.” Josie gave Davis Lee a small frown.

“You’d have no shortage of work if that concerns you.” Susannah tucked a stray blond hair into her chignon. “In fact, Riley and Davis Lee’s cousin, Jericho, is getting married in about a month and a half. His intended is planning to see a seamstress in Abilene about a new dress.”

“I bet Miz Webster would be interested in the job. Wouldn’t you?” Davis Lee practically dared her to say no.

Josie’s lips flattened, hinting that she was trying hard to remain pleasant. “Perhaps you could refer me to her?”

Susannah pointed to Catherine Donnelly, a raven-haired woman who stood talking to the reverend with a husky young boy at her side.

Before she followed Susannah’s gaze, Josie glared at Davis Lee. He could tell by the fire in her green eyes that she didn’t like him poking his nose into her affairs.

Too bad. He wanted to get a bead on the woman who had given him the jolt of his life by pulling that weapon from her bodice.

“Let me go get her.” Susannah hurried off and returned in a moment with the tall, slender woman. She introduced her to Josie then said, “Josie is a dressmaker.”

Davis Lee watched with amusement. Before his little spy left church today, she might have enough work to keep her busy and out of his jail.

As the women agreed upon a time for Catherine to come by Josie’s hotel room to discuss her wedding dress, Cora Wilkes and her brother joined them.

“Hello, everyone.” The older woman, widowed almost a year ago when the McDougal gang murdered her husband, patted Davis Lee’s arm and smiled at him and Riley. “How are you today, boys?”

“Doin’ well, Cora.” Davis Lee bussed her cheek, wondering if Josie knew that one reason Ian McDougal sat in Whirlwind’s jail was for murdering Cora’s husband, Ollie, last fall.

“Just fine, Cora.” Riley brushed a kiss against her other cheek and shook the hand of the trim, distinguished-looking man next to her.

“Cora Wilkes, this is Josie Webster.” Susannah pulled the newcomer forward as the older woman smiled and shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Josie.” Cora gestured to the man standing at her shoulder. “This is my brother, Loren Barnes.”

He shook her hand, his blue eyes warm. “I’m new, too. It’s nice that I’m not the only one.”

“Where are you from?”

“Fort Smith.”

“I’ve never been there.”

Josie spoke warmly, unhurriedly, but Davis Lee felt nervousness ripple off her. Why?

Susannah touched Josie’s arm. “I do hope you decide to stay in Whirlwind. You’d like it here.”

Josie smiled.

As Susannah and Catherine admired the other woman’s dress, Riley edged up next to Davis Lee and said in a low voice, “Why are you lookin’ at her like you expect her to pull a gun and hold us up?”

Davis Lee took a gurgling Lorelai from his brother and bounced her on his shoulder as he eyed the seamstress. “Twice I’ve caught her showing a powerful interest in my jail. She was watching it from the alley between the livery and Pete’s saloon until I saw her there. Now she has a room at the Whirlwind that looks right at the jail, and yesterday, I found her inside. I think she’s connected to McDougal.”

His brother frowned. “How?”

“Sweetheart, maybe, or relative. I don’t know yet, but I’ve got a telegram ready to send to the Galveston County sheriff and see what I can find out. I’d have sent the wire yesterday, but Tony got sick and had to close the telegraph office.”

“It sure would be a shame if she’s taken up with the likes of a McDougal. She’s pretty.”

“Which doesn’t mean anything. She’s probably also a liar.”

“Maybe not. Every pretty woman isn’t a swindler.”

Davis Lee gave him a flat stare. “Just because you found a good woman like Susannah doesn’t mean we’ll all be so lucky.”

“True enough, but maybe Josie will surprise you.”

“She will. If she keeps away from my prisoner.” Davis Lee watched a shy smile cross her face as Susannah and Catherine spoke to her.

His brother could be fooled if he wanted. Riley wasn’t the one who’d had his heart trampled by a beautiful heartless woman. Davis Lee was harder to dupe and he knew Josie Webster was trying to do just that. First thing tomorrow he would wire Galveston’s sheriff.



The next evening Josie paused outside Sheriff Holt’s office at six-forty-five. Gray clouds had scudded across the sky all day threatening showers, and the air had been pleasantly cool, but the rain hadn’t come. Pressing a hand to her stomach did nothing to calm the flurries there. She had watched the jail today while finishing Gus Simon’s work shirts.

Sheriff Holt had reverted to his original schedule and stepped out for his usual pie and coffee at nine-forty-five, then for lunch at twelve-thirty. Josie made a quick trip to the telegraph and post office to send Gus’s shirts to Galveston. Midafternoon, Catherine Donnelly had arrived for Josie to take her measurements. As Catherine softly talked about her fiancé, a Texas Ranger who was taking care of some business in Houston, Josie worked up an estimate of the cost and time involved to make a dress for Catherine’s upcoming wedding. For that hour, Josie had been unable to watch the jail. As far as she knew, McDougal hadn’t been let out other than for a trip to the outhouse.

The sheriff hadn’t even allowed McDougal to close the privy door. Whenever Holt escorted his shackled prisoner outside, Josie noted it was with a posture that hinted at quick reflexes and an unstinting alertness. The rugged man caused her tongue to twist on itself, but so far he hadn’t shown any inkling of knowing the real reason she was here.

As she lifted her hand to knock on the door of the sheriff’s office, it opened and he smiled down at her. His eyes were a piercing blue in the evening light. “Good evening, Miz Webster. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. I truly appreciate you taking the time to give me these lessons.”

“You’re welcome.” He reached behind him to shut the door. “I’ll be back around dark, Jake.”

“Take your time,” a deep masculine voice answered.

As Josie walked down the steps in front of the sheriff, he asked, “Do you ride or should we take a wagon?”

“I ride. Where are we going?”

“About two miles outside of town.”

She nodded, struck by the intense way he studied her. He appeared to be anticipating a reaction from her, but about what?

The sheriff had borrowed a black mare for her from the livery and moved to help her into the saddle, but she had already mounted. She had worn her dark blue split skirt so she could ride astride.

As they left Whirlwind behind, Josie tried to keep her attention on the patches of yellow and purple wildflowers spotting the flat landscape and not the way the muscles in Davis Lee’s thighs flexed as he guided his horse.

But the burlap bag full of clanging tin cans that he carried behind his saddle drew her attention to him repeatedly.

She needed to remember that he and these lessons were just her way of trying to find out information about Ian McDougal. Her next attempt on the outlaw wouldn’t be hindered.

As they rode leisurely down the dirt road, Davis Lee glanced at her. “I heard this morning that a big hurricane hit Galveston last night.”

Concern flared for all the friends she’d left behind. When she was thirteen, a vicious storm had hit Indianola, killing one hundred and seventy-six people in the city down the coast from Galveston and entirely flooding her city. “Was anyone hurt or killed?”

“I haven’t heard yet. All of their telegraph wires are down.”

Which happened in almost every hurricane. Josie frowned. “So how did you know about the storm?”

“Some folks from Houston spread the word. The sheriff there sent a wire to several counties to the north and west.”

“Oh.” Josie decided she should keep her mouth shut. Davis Lee wiring the Galveston County sheriff was something she hadn’t considered. The very real possibility that he might ask Sheriff Locke about her made her squirm in the saddle.

About ten minutes later, Davis Lee urged his buckskin mare off the wagon-rutted road and into the prairie’s short grass. Josie followed, reining up a good distance from the road when he did.

She dismounted, noticing a small stone in a cleared patch of ground just on the other side of her horse. A clump of blue wild verbena grew at the stone’s base.

“The McDougals killed our stage driver here,” Davis Lee said when his gaze followed hers to the stone. “You met his wife yesterday. Cora Wilkes?”

“Yes.” Josie stared at the small memorial the woman had erected, pain flooding her at the similar losses she had suffered. She struggled to keep her face blank as rage grew. How many people would McDougal kill before he was stopped?

“That gang also nearly killed my sister-in-law as well as Catherine Donnelly.”

Shocked, Josie spun.

“They nearly ran Susannah to ground with their horses and they kidnapped Catherine.” Davis Lee’s eyes glinted dangerously. “My cousin is a Texas Ranger who’d been chasing the McDougals for almost two years. The two of us, along with my brother, Riley, and my deputy took care of three of them in a shoot-out several months back. Ian managed to escape, but he’s in jail now. He’ll pay for what he’s done.”

Recognizing the same stern determination in Davis Lee’s voice that she often felt, she edged closer to him.

His gaze locked onto hers. “They killed Jericho’s friend, another Ranger and nearly did Jericho in, too. If it hadn’t been for Catherine’s nursing skills, he would’ve died.”

Images of her parents’ and William’s bodies burned in her mind. “You’re lucky they didn’t kill him.”

The keen interest sharpening his blue gaze made her suddenly nervous and she blurted out, “What about your parents? Did the McDougals…?”

She fervently hoped not.

“No, they passed away without any help from those polecats.”

Josie nodded.

“The rest of my family is in Whirlwind. You met my brother yesterday. And my sister-in-law and niece.”

“Lorelai. What an angel,” she said with a soft smile.

“Yes. And Jericho plans to put down roots here with Catherine after their wedding.” Davis Lee walked through the short prairie grass and stopped several yards away. As he lifted, moved and stacked a few flat rocks, the tin cans in his burlap bag clanged. “What about your family? Who did you leave behind in Galveston?”

“No one. Have you always lived here?”

“Except for a couple of years I spent up in the Panhandle.” Curiosity darkened his eyes as he approached with the now-empty bag. “I was the sheriff in Rock River.”

Just because he blabbed on about his past didn’t mean she would. Her hair was pulled back with a ribbon and she brought a thick skein over her shoulder to twist around her finger. “Did you always want to be a sheriff?”

His eyes narrowed at her nervous gesture. “As far back as I can remember.”

“Your brother didn’t?”

He shrugged. “Riley would rather be with the horses. And, as our pa used to say, I’d rather be with the horses’ ass—back ends.”

She smiled, her gaze going to the six tin cans perched on mounds of rocks.

“My grandpa was Whirlwind’s first sheriff. I wanted to continue the tradition.”

“Have the sheriffs of Whirlwind always been Holts?”

“No. For a dozen or so years there was another man here, a good man. When he decided to move farther west, I applied for the job.”

Davis Lee had to have noticed her reluctance to talk about her family and the less-than-graceful way she changed the subject. He said nothing yet Josie felt uneasily as if she were being sized up.

Dropping the empty bag to the ground, Davis Lee slid a revolver from the small of his back. His own remained in the holster strapped low on his hips. Keeping the barrel pointed at the ground, he handed her the gun. “This Colt may be a little heavy for you. It’s a .45 caliber. What do you think?”

She awkwardly balanced the weapon on her hand, surprised at its weight. “I guess I’ll get used to it.”

“If you decide to buy one, I can help you. Smith & Wesson makes a .32 caliber that might fit your hand better. They call it a pocket revolver.”

She nodded, clasping the butt in both hands and raising it to eye level.

Davis Lee reached out and gently pushed the barrel down so that it was directed at the ground. “Don’t point that thing unless you’re ready to use it. That’s rule number one.”

“All right.” She was going to learn to shoot really well. Ian McDougal would never have her at a disadvantage again.

Davis Lee moved up beside her, his shoulder barely brushing hers. “Stand with your feet a comfortable distance apart and aim at one of those cans.”

“Don’t I need to learn how to load it?”

“I want you to get the feel of it first. I don’t fancy losing a toe or something more vital if you squeeze that trigger before either one of us is ready.”

She glanced at him, noting that the level at which she held the weapon was about the same as his private parts. The realization had heat burning her cheeks. For Davis Lee to lose any part of his lean muscled anatomy would be a real shame. He was one handsome man.

Josie forced her attention back to what he was saying.

“Just practice aiming for a bit.”

She lifted the gun, her gaze following the line of the barrel.

He tapped the small piece of raised metal at the barrel’s tip. “You can use the sight if you want, but that one is a little off. I learned how to shoot by aiming the gun as if it were my finger. You try it.”

She did. “That feels more natural than trying to line up the sight. Can you shoot faster using this method, too?”

He flicked his gaze over her. “How fast do you need to shoot?”

“Just asking.” If she were forced to shoot McDougal rather than cut him, she meant to fire as many times as necessary.

The thought of cold-bloodedly killing the outlaw just as he had killed her parents and William bothered her, but she refused to be swayed.

“I’ll show you how to load it now.” Davis Lee reached over and put his hand on top of hers.

She stiffened, her hand twitching beneath his. Her gaze flew to his face and she saw that his attention wasn’t on the gun, but on her breasts.

“Pardon me, Sheriff,” she said archly.

“Davis Lee.” A wicked grin spread slowly across his face as he held up his hands in mock surrender, his gaze dipping again to her chest. “You’re not gonna pull that blade on me, are you?”

“Are you going to give me a reason?” Her heartbeat kicked wildly against her ribs and she found she couldn’t look away from the heat of his blue gaze.

“I plan to tell you what I’m doing every step of the way. Don’t want to spook you and end up begging for mercy.”

She didn’t want to find his grin so charming. Or him either for that matter. She turned her attention back to the weapon. “Bullets?”

“Yessirree.” He slid six from his gun belt and dropped them into her waiting hand.

Again he covered her hand with his, this time pushing against a rounded part of the gun right above the trigger. A cylinder popped out, revealing six empty slots.

“Those chambers are for your bullets.” He plucked one from her hand and slid it in, indicating she should finish.

After she did, he clicked the cylinder back into place. “All right, you’re ready. Be smart. Until you’re going to use it, keep the gun pointed toward the ground or away from people. Now go ahead and see if you can hit one of those cans.”

Knowing that she stood in the same place where the McDougal gang had killed yet another person affected Josie’s concentration, but she tried to focus on the targets in front of her.

“When you’re ready, squeeze the trigger steadily.”

She did and the gun kicked, causing her to flinch. The bullet flew off into who-knew-where. “Oh, fiddle.”

He chuckled. “You’ll hit the target sooner if you keep your eyes open.”

“Oh.” She smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t realize I’d closed them.”

“It’s okay. You have to get the feel of it. That’s why it’s a good idea to practice.”

She nodded, biting her lip as she aimed again at the can. The slight breeze cooled her nape. The flutter of grasshoppers in the calf-high grass and the call of a hawk circling overhead shifted to the distant part of her mind.

She fired all six bullets and hit only air.

“Do it again,” Davis Lee said.

She loaded the gun as he’d shown her then brought it up and sighted the middle can. She didn’t flinch this time. At least she thought she hadn’t.

“You gotta stop flinching.” He pushed his hat back then resettled it on his head. “It’s no wonder you can’t see the target.”

She tried again. She had to learn to do this. Ian McDougal wasn’t getting away from her again. Still, she hit nothing.

Davis Lee patiently watched her reload and fire, over and over. “Don’t quit,” he said when she dropped her arms to rest them.

Her forearms throbbed. Who knew it took such strength to shoot a gun?

“You’ll get it,” he murmured. But half an hour later, he looked at her, looked at the cans sitting exactly where he’d placed them. “Can you see the targets?”

“Yes.” A blush heated her face. Why couldn’t she learn this?

He looked genuinely puzzled. “Are you concentrating?”

“Yes.”

“I guess this is gonna take a while,” he muttered.

She loaded the gun again, anger at herself growing in the place of her earlier determination. Maybe the lanky man beside her was the reason she was doing so poorly.

When he stood so close to her, she could smell the strong fresh scent of lye soap and a faint whiff of leather and horse. She didn’t know why he affected her so, but the man could make a painted lady nervous.

Josie tried to push away the overwhelming sense of his presence and focus. She fired, pausing between each shot to take aim. She hit nothing. “I see why it takes a lot of practice to become good with one of these things.”

“I’m assuming you’ve got better aim with that blade you carry.”

He offered more ammunition and she pushed the bullets into the chamber.

“Those are my last bullets,” he said.

“I need more!”

“I didn’t think it was gonna take this many.” He grinned.

She smiled up at him then looked away when she saw the smoldering interest in his eyes. Was he watching her with such fascination because he suspected her real reason for coming to Whirlwind? Or because he felt the same unsettling awareness she felt?

Gripping the revolver with damp hands, she fired until it was empty. She risked a glance at him, catching a pained look on his face.

“That’s enough for today.” He walked to the rocks and began gathering up the cans. The cans she hadn’t come close to hitting.

She waited in a patch of buffalo grass, unwillingly admiring the fluid way he moved, the broad hands that completely covered the cans. “Are you ready to give up on me?”

She held her breath. If he said yes, what would she do? Her skirt caught on a clump of grass and she tugged it loose.

Davis Lee started back toward her, holding the burlap sack full of cans. “It’s all in the practice—” He froze midstep. “Don’t move.”

“What are you—”

“Don’t. Move.”

She frowned at the hard command in his voice, freezing as he’d ordered.

“Snake. I must’ve stirred him up by moving those rocks.”

“Where?” A sudden crackling noise caused her to involuntarily flinch.

Davis Lee cried out, “No!” The bag fell to the ground, cans clanging together.

She recoiled against a sharp blistering stab above her ankle that felt as if a needle had been jabbed into her flesh. A burning shot up her leg.

He whipped out his own gun and fired twice in rapid succession, aiming between her feet. It happened too fast for Josie to react at all.

She stumbled back a step, hardly able to make herself look down, but she did.

A blackish-brown snake with dark, indistinct-shaped markings protruded from beneath her skirts. Even she could identify the alternating black and white rings on its tail, and the rattle at the end. Nausea rolled over her. “Oh, dear.”

She wobbled.

“Are you bit?” Davis Lee rushed up. When he saw that the snake lay unmoving, he holstered his weapon. “Rattlesnake.”

Josie stared hard at the reptile as if she could will it to remain motionless.

“Josie, are you bit?”

“Yes.” She lifted her gaze to his, feeling detached from her body.

He cursed and scooped her unceremoniously into his arms, carrying her a safe distance away. “I’ve got to get the venom out of your leg.”

He reached their horses and tugged a rolled-up trail blanket from behind his saddle, snapping it open and wrapping it around her before carefully depositing her on the ground. He went to his knees beside her. “Is your vision blurring? Are you nauseous?”

“No.” She dragged in air, trying to calm her racing pulse and recall what her father had told her about treating snakebites. “It may be ten minutes or so before that happens. We need to work fast though.”

She already felt short of breath, but maybe that was because she was close to panic. A rattler. She had been bitten by a rattler. She had never even seen a snake, but thanks to her father she knew how to treat a bite. She had to stay as calm as possible.

Pulling the blanket around her to keep warm and try to combat the shock she knew would come, she reached for the hem of her skirt the same time Davis Lee did.

“Lie down,” he ordered. “You need to be still and quiet.”

She knew he was right but needed to do something herself. Pain seared her lower leg as if scalding water had spilled on her.

“Is it burning?”

“Yes.” Tears stung her eyes.

“It’s starting to swell, too,” he muttered.

“Do you know what to do?”

“Yes.” He lifted her skirts to her knees, pushing up the hem of her drawers.

She saw several cuts and scratches around a single puncture just above the top of her boot, the bloody blister forming at the bite that was a few inches above her ankle.

Her breathing grew labored and the burning in her leg intensified. Forcing away the panic that clawed at her, she focused on remembering her father’s instruction. Her hands moved to her bodice. Any constrictive clothing could increase the swelling and push the flow of venom through her blood faster. She shook so violently she could barely unfasten the buttons, but she managed to spread open the cotton fabric then reach for the fastenings on her corset. Sweat broke across her nape and between her breasts.

Davis Lee stared at her leg, jerking off his hat. “I’m going to have to cut you and suck out that poison.”

“I know,” she mumbled. Biting back a whimper at the voracious fire in her lower leg, she fumbled with the hooks down the front of her corset, hoping this would sufficiently loosen her clothing.

He glanced up then froze. “What in the hell are you doin’?”

“Constricts my breathing.” She struggled with the last closure just below her waist. “Anything too tight will spread the venom faster.”

He frowned, but pulled out his whittling knife with its four-inch blade and reached toward her. The whetted steel sliced easily through the thread securing her corset hook. The loosened garment relaxed, freeing her breasts, her ribs, and she dragged in a deep breath.

He moved back to her leg with the big knife. Josie gasped and lifted herself onto her elbows. “No, not yours. Mine.”

“There’s no time—”

“Use…mine.” Sweat dampened her palms as she reached for her scalpel and handed it to him. “If you butcher me with your knife, you might damage my muscle. Use this.”

He took the instrument, pushing her back down before leaning over her leg and aiming intently for the bite.

“Tie your kerchief around my calf about two inches above the puncture, just so it forms a light band. Keep the incision small and in the bite. That will help minimize the damage.”

“I know how to do this. How do you—never mind.” He applied the bandanna.

She shakily slid two fingers beneath the fabric to make sure it wasn’t too tight then turned her head away as he made small, shallow cuts in her leg. Between the burning agony of the wound and the slices into her flesh, Josie nearly passed out.

She was vaguely cognizant of the fact that a man she barely knew had lifted her skirts.

His lips touched her leg, the heat of his mouth lost under the fever of her skin. She felt the starch seep out of her. Her breathing grew more forced; her pulse raced. The wound throbbed ceaselessly.

“Hang on.” Davis Lee sucked at the wound and spit so often that Josie lost track of time.

She curled her fingers into the blanket trying to keep from passing out. The inside of her mouth tasted as rusty as if she’d chewed old nails for breakfast. Fever built in her leg and moved through her body.

After long minutes, she laid an unsteady hand on Davis Lee’s knee. “You’ve done all you can. It’s probably all right to start for the fort doctor now.”

He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, studying her face as if deciding whether to stop. “I’ll take you to Catherine. She’s closer and will know what to do. She’s a nurse.”

Josie nodded weakly. If they hadn’t acted quickly enough, it wouldn’t matter what a doctor or a nurse did for her.

Davis Lee dropped her scalpel in his saddlebag then moved to her side. “We’ll have to ride double.”

She nodded, so drowsy that she was hardly able to control the movement. Another sign of a poisonous snakebite. She tried to remain calm, knew she had to.

Davis Lee reached to button her bodice but her gaping corset prevented him. He cursed, grabbing hold of the stiff undergarment and dragging it off her body. “You don’t need this damn thing anyway,” he muttered.

Josie didn’t even care that he’d removed it; she only cared about breathing. He clumsily fastened several buttons, half of them in the wrong loop, but her bodice was mostly closed. She found his attempt endearing.

He stood, settling his hat on his head as he stuffed her corset into his saddlebag. “I’m going to lift you into the saddle then climb on behind.”

“I can stand.” Her tongue tingled.

“That’s a damn fool idea.”

“The important thing…is to keep the bite below my heart.”

“You’re fadin’ fast. We’re doin’ this my way.” He knelt and gathered her, blanket and all, in his arms, then gently sat her in the saddle.

Wobbly, she curled her fingers into the sleeves of his shirt. He gently pried them off and folded them around the saddle horn.

“Hang on,” he said.

“All right.”

He slowly released her then climbed up behind her, settling her in the cradle of his thighs. Her vision blurred as the drowsiness leeched her energy. Her head fell against his chest.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry about trying to hold on.”

She snuggled one shoulder under his arm, her fingers closing weakly on the pommel.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

He turned his horse, moved toward hers to pick up the reins and they started for town.

“What about your cans?” she asked sleepily.

He looked down at her, sounding amused. “I can get more.”

Agony seared her leg and she felt herself waning, the green grass blurring as they moved. Davis Lee’s strong arm circled her waist and she leaned into him. He was hot. And hard.

The pain jumbled the thoughts in her head. Memories of her parents’ lifeless bodies. Of the first time William had kissed her. Davis Lee’s eyes glittering with suspicion.

With her cheek cradled against his broad chest, she felt safe. And torn. If she survived this, it would be because of him. She didn’t want to owe him. It would only complicate matters once she killed his prisoner.




Chapter Four


H e talked to her all the way to Whirlwind about everything from shoeing horses to whittling. A couple of times he thought she lost consciousness, and by the time they reached town, she had.

Dusk settled around them as he guided his buckskin up the main street and toward the Whirlwind Hotel. Davis Lee barely paid any mind to the attention he attracted from the few people who were still about. He saw Matt and Russ Baldwin coming out of Pete Carter’s saloon and hollered for both of them. The dark-haired brothers, easily the biggest men in Taylor County, hurried out to meet him.

Matt, the youngest by a year, reached Davis Lee first. “What’s happened?”

“One of you go for Catherine and one of you come help me!”

Russ, the quieter of the two, turned back and unhitched his bay mare then vaulted into the saddle.

“Tell her I need her for a snakebite.” Davis Lee thought he would never reach the other end of town, but he finally reined up in front of the hotel.

Matt met him there, taking the reins of Josie’s horse and flipping them over the hitching post. His gaze skated over her and interest flared in his eyes. “Who is she?”

“Her name’s Josie Webster.” Davis Lee shrugged off his annoyance at Matt’s fascination. The Baldwin brothers were well-known ladies’ men. “Here.”

When Matt came forward, Davis Lee handed her down carefully then swiftly dismounted.

“Why haven’t I seen her before?” The other man stared at her. “She’s a beauty—”

Scooping Josie out of Baldwin’s arms before Matt could even turn toward the hotel, Davis Lee took the steps at the end of the landing.

Matt hurried behind him. “Why are you bringing her here?”

“Her room is closer than Catherine’s house.”

“She sure is a little thing. Is it bad?”

“I think so.”

The other man opened one side of the double glass-front door. “I’ll take care of the horses.”

“Thanks.” Davis Lee glanced down, concern growing that Josie wasn’t waking. Beyond the staircase, three guests sat in the dining room. He stopped at the registration desk and hollered at the man behind it who was slumped and snoring in his chair. “Penn!”

The old man came slowly awake, blinking.

“Get Esther to meet me upstairs!”

Confusion slowly cleared from the clerk’s lined features as his gaze went to the woman in Davis Lee’s arms. Penn’s eyes widened and he pushed himself out of his chair. “That’s Miss Josie!”

“Yes.” Davis Lee rounded the corner of the desk and started up the staircase.

“What happened?”

“Snakebite,” he said tightly.

Penn shuffled toward the dining room. “Esther! Come quick!”

Davis Lee reached the second-story landing, then Josie’s room. The door was locked. He stepped back to lean over the wooden stair railing. “Get me a key!”

“Coming, Sheriff.” It was Penn’s wife, Esther, who answered him.

He heard frantic muttering, then saw her iron-gray hair as she breathlessly mounted the stairs. As round and soft as Penn was narrow and hard, Esther had a sweet disposition and good hearing, for which Davis Lee was thankful.

He stood aside so the older woman could open Josie’s door. When she pushed it wide, he strode across the room to the bed in the corner. Josie was still limp in his arms. Her skin was waxy, pale as a cloud and Davis Lee’s chest squeezed.

He laid her on the mattress, sitting on the edge of the bed to tuck his trail blanket tightly around her. He wished she would open her eyes or moan or something.

“Should I send Penn for Miss Donnelly?”

“I sent Russ to fetch her.” A trained nurse who had come to Whirlwind only a few months ago, Catherine was the first woman Davis Lee had been in danger of falling for since Betsy, but she’d fallen hard for his cousin, Jericho. And he for her.

Esther moved up behind Davis Lee, peering at Josie over his shoulder. “Poor thing. What can I do?”

“Probably ought to get her boots off.” What had she said about things constricting her? Maybe he had wrapped her too tightly. He loosened the tight cocoon of blanket.

Esther moved to the foot of the bed and unbuttoned Josie’s black boots, slipping them off. Davis Lee lifted the blanket and tugged her skirts up enough to see the wound. Her golden-peach skin was stretched taut and thin. He thought her calf looked more swollen than before but he couldn’t be sure.

Aware that Esther stared disapprovingly at his hand on Josie’s leg, he pushed her skirts back down. “Josie?”

Her eyes remained closed. He took her hand. Finding it clammy, he tucked it between both of his and rubbed. She was in shock. Maybe he shouldn’t have loosened the blanket. Where the hell was Catherine? All he knew to do was keep trying to wake Josie. He kept her small soft hand in one of his and lifted the other to her face, patting her cheek.

“Josie? Wake up.”

He cursed under his breath. She was so slight, looked so defenseless lying there. Her lips were barely parted, her lashes dark crescents against her pale cheeks. The rise and fall of her chest was rapid, too rapid.

She opened her eyes.

“Josie?” He leaned over her.

“Sheriff?” she croaked, looking at him through slitted, pain-filled eyes.

“I sent for Catherine. You passed out.” He awkwardly patted her shoulder, his stomach dipping like he’d been thrown from a horse. “She’ll be here soon.” It needed to be now.

“I…can’t see you very well. I’m thirsty.”

Esther hurried out of the room. “I’ll get some water.”

Davis Lee squeezed Josie’s hand, using his other to tuck the blanket snugly around her once more.

“Hurts.” She sounded breathless; her eyes drifted shut.

“Josie, don’t go. Stay awake.” He tapped her chin gently with a knuckle. “Josie.”

Where was Esther? Hell, where was Catherine? What if he hadn’t sucked out enough venom? For all he knew, that stuff was leeching the life out of Josie. The sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs had him looking over his shoulder. Relief pushed through him as Catherine hurried inside, skirts swishing.

“Russ said there was a snakebite.” The raven-haired nurse hurried around him, shoving a small black bag into his chest. She placed a hand on Josie’s forehead.

He stood and stepped back to give his friend some room.

“How long has she been like this?”

“She woke up just a minute ago, but before that at least ten minutes.”

“Where’s the bite?”

“Her left calf, on the inside.”

Rolling up the sleeves on her pale blue bodice, Catherine folded back the blanket and reached for Josie’s skirts. She glanced at him. “I need to look at the wound.”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the soft crest of Josie’s cheekbones, the delicate winged arch of her dark brows, the freckles scattered across her fine-boned nose. Her lips were bloodless. She was still so pale. What if he hadn’t gotten help on time?

“Davis Lee?”

“Huh?”

Catherine twirled her finger. “Turn around.”

He did, biting back the impulse to tell her that he’d already done more than see her patient’s trim, uncovered ankles. He’d ripped the woman’s damn corset off.

“Maybe I need to have a look at you, too?” his friend asked in her calm, soothing voice.

“I’m fine, but I’m afraid she’s real bad.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You cut her.”

“I had to. Is it too deep? Will it scar badly?”

“It’s hard to say. Did you suck out the venom?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

He massaged the tight muscles across his nape. “I don’t know. It seemed like a long time. She told me when to stop.”

He wanted to turn around, see Josie’s face. “Catherine, has she opened her eyes again?”

“No, not yet.”

“She was awake just a minute ago. Said she was thirsty. Esther went to get her some water.”

“Did you clean the wound?”

“No.” He should’ve done that. Why hadn’t he thought to do that?

His friend stood and reached for her bag, then had to pry it gently from Davis Lee’s tight grip. She opened the satchel and removed a thick folded square of linen and a brown bottle marked Carbolic Acid.

Damn this anyway. Josie’s ankles were the least of what he’d seen today. He turned around, willing her to open her eyes. “We were out by Ollie’s marker. She lost consciousness a couple of times on the way back to town. We weren’t more than ten minutes away.”

“Has she been unconscious ever since?”

“Except for that short time a while ago.” He didn’t think Josie looked any better. “She’s still shaking.”

“It’s shock,” Catherine told him. “She needs to stay warm.”

Esther walked back into the room carrying a glass of water and an earthen pitcher.

Catherine opened the bottle of carbolic acid and dribbled some of the liquid onto the cloth then gently cleaned the puncture wound and surrounding cuts.

“What do you think, Catherine? Tell me what’s going on,” he demanded. “Is she gonna—”

“Not if I can help it.” She cleansed the wound again.

“Should I have brought her to you instead of here?” The thought that his decision might cost Josie her life had his chest pounding so hard it hurt.

“No. The hotel was closer.”

That had been his first instinct, but since Betsy, Davis Lee hadn’t trusted his instincts about much.

Josie’s eyes fluttered open again and her pain-clouded gaze locked with his. “Where am I?” she croaked.

“Your room at the hotel.” Relief deepened his voice. “Catherine’s here. She’s going to help you.”

Josie licked her lips and Catherine held her head so she could drink from the glass of water Esther had brought. When she finished, Catherine eased her head back down and handed the glass to Davis Lee. “Esther, help me get her under the sheet. I want to wrap the blanket on top of it. That should keep her warm enough.”

Catherine competently rolled Josie toward the wall and Esther struggled to pull the sheet from beneath her split skirt. Davis Lee made an impatient sound and scooped Josie up in his arms. When the sheet was turned down, he laid her back on the mattress.

Esther unwrapped the blanket from around Josie then spread it on top of the sheet. Catherine tucked the covers close to Josie’s body, making a cocoon.

Her fevered gaze locked on his. He didn’t see blame or fear there. He saw trust. Something hot and sharp grabbed him deep inside.

He cleared his throat. “She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?”

“Without knowing how much venom is in her system, we have to wait and see,” Catherine said softly.

She gave her patient another sip of water. “I’m going to make a poultice, Josie. And a tea.”

Catherine was so composed. Even Josie seemed calm while his insides tangled like rusted barbed wire. He made a frustrated noise and splayed his hands on his hips. Her eyes were closed again. He wanted to do something, wanted her to be all right.

Catherine glanced at him. “The incision you made is small. It’s good you didn’t use your big knife on her.”

“She wouldn’t let me. She wanted me to use her scalpel.”

“Her scalpel?”

“She carries one with her for protection.”

“All the time?” Catherine looked bemused.

“Yeah.”

“How strange,” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

“I think we’ve done all we can right now. Unfortunately, we’ll just have to wait for her symptoms to peak.”

“How long will that take?”

“Probably three or four days. Hard to know how much poison is in there, but from what you’ve told me about her being unconscious, I think she was bitten pretty good.”

Discomfort flashed across Josie’s features and Davis Lee lowered his voice. “Will it be painful? Worse than now?”

“For a bit,” Catherine murmured. “She’s clammy right now, but a fever will probably set in soon. Then the sweats. She’ll be weak and perhaps disoriented.”

Needing to do something with his hands, Davis Lee jerked off his hat and crushed it, staring at her. “We were out shooting,” he said hoarsely.

“Oh?” Catherine looked up at him, curiosity plain in her eyes. “Are you and she—?”

“She wants to learn how to handle a gun. I said I’d teach her.” He shook his head. “I never thought something like this would happen. I go out there all the time. So does Cora. I’ve seen snakes there before, but they skedaddle at the first sign of humans.”

“It’s not your fault, Davis Lee. You’re not thinking it is, are you?”

He shrugged. “No, just wishing it hadn’t happened.”

She lightly squeezed his arm. “You did fine. You kept her calm, got the venom out and got her back here.”

“She was calmer than I was.”

“You were smart to loosen her bodice.”

“She did that. She did everything.”

“You sucked out the venom,” Catherine said.

Josie nodded weakly, her lashes lifting, her green gaze etched with pain.

But had he done enough? Had he done it in time? His hands closed even more tightly on the brim of his hat. “What can I do? What do you need? Tell me and I’ll get it.”

“I need some snakeroot.”

He frowned. “Snake-what?”

“Snakeroot. It’s the same as birthwort. I also need some downy plantain. They’re herbs. Dr. Butler will have them at Fort Greer. I need enough for four days. Tell him it’s for a poultice and a tea.”

Davis Lee nodded, the air suddenly stifling. The walls pressed in on him. “Anything else?”

“That’s all for now. I’ll stay with her tonight.”

Davis Lee bit back his own offer to do the same. It wouldn’t do for him to be alone in here with her, but he hesitated to leave.

“I need to keep an eye on her symptoms,” Catherine said quietly. “Her leg will swell further and I’m very concerned that she may have trouble breathing. I’ve made her as comfortable as possible.”

“I’ll fetch what you need.”

“Could you also stop by the house and tell my brother Andrew I’ll be here overnight? He can stay with one of his friends, either Creed or Miguel.”

“Done.”

Davis Lee gave Josie one last look before walking out. As reluctant as he was to leave, he was glad to be doing something besides staring at her waxen face. She was in good hands with Catherine, so why didn’t the pressure in his chest ease?



Four hours later, Davis Lee had delivered the herbs to Catherine and seen Andrew settled with Miguel Santos, the nephew of the telegraph operator. He had also completed his nightly walk through town. It was a few minutes past eleven and all was quiet.

Jake was at the jail guarding McDougal and Davis Lee was free to head for his small house behind Haskell’s that had been provided by the town. Instead, he stood in the street staring at the soft lamp glow in an upstairs window of the Whirlwind Hotel.

When he had returned with the things Catherine wanted, Josie hadn’t looked any better. He wanted to check on her one last time, knew he wouldn’t sleep until he did.

Using the key Penn had given him so he could keep an eye on the hotel if he heard something after-hours, Davis Lee let himself in, moonlight marking his way to the corner of the registration desk. He lit the candle always kept there by the old man and carried it upstairs to Josie’s room.

Mindful of the other guests, he rapped softly with one knuckle. When there was no response, he knocked. Nothing.

He tried the door and found it unlocked, pushing it open to peer into the room. “Catherine?”

But it wasn’t Catherine in the chair beside Josie’s bed. It was Esther Wavers. The lamp on the bedside table threw a warm blanket of light around the room and Davis Lee stepped over to pinch out the candle on the dresser.

Josie was in bed, the blanket on the floor, the sheet down around her ankles. A splint braced her lower left leg and he saw the white gleam of the bandages Catherine had applied over the poultice. At the same time he registered that Josie wore only her chemise and drawers, his attention moved to the older woman who hadn’t reacted to his arrival. “Esther?”

He walked to the bed, his attention snagged on the dark hair spread like sable silk across Josie’s pillow. Smoky yellow light slid over her, tucking shadows between her breasts, her legs. Her gossamer-light undergarment fit close to her body, the flush of fever evident even in the muted light.

Davis Lee dragged his gaze to Esther, concerned that something was wrong. The older woman slumped in the chair, head bowed, hands resting loosely on a water-filled basin in her lap. The steady rise and fall of her chest told him that she was asleep. Relief that she wasn’t dead or unconscious mixed with a surge of irritation. What good was she doing this way?

Josie made a low, ragged sound, her breath catching in a way that had him turning. He was startled to realize she was crying in her sleep.

“Esther?” He kept his voice quiet and calm, reaching down to take the tilting bowl from her lap.

Moving fitfully, Josie threw a protective arm across her face. He eased down onto the edge of the bed.

Esther snuffled softly and his jaw tightened. He bumped the washbasin into her knee.

“Huh?” She jerked awake, blinking rapidly then squinting at him. “Oh. Sheriff?”

“Where’s Catherine?” he asked tightly.

She covered a yawn, her voice scratchy with sleep. “Pearl Anderson’s daughter-in-law finally went into labor and there was a problem. Pearl asked Catherine to come so I told her I’d stay with Josie.” Her gaze went to the bed, no doubt seeing the distress in Josie’s face and body that Davis Lee saw. Guilt darkened the older woman’s eyes and she snapped straight in her chair. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Is she worse?”

“I don’t know,” he said evenly. “Was she like this the last time you remember?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her wilted bun wiggling loosely on top of her head.

“Do you know what time that was?”

“No.”

Josie made more of those choppy sobbing noises. A hardboiled knot lodged in his chest. Was she dreaming or in pain? Catherine had said she might be disoriented, not that she might be delirious. It had to be due to the fever. He placed a hand on her forehead. She was burning up.

“I came by to check on her.” A rag floated in the bowl of water and Davis Lee scooped it up, squeezed it. He moved Josie’s arm down to her side so he could wipe her face.

“I’m so sorry.”

He wanted to reassure the older woman, but all he could think about was Catherine saying that breathing might become difficult for Josie. She might have suffocated before Esther ever woke up.

He forcefully dunked the rag again, wringing it out before moving it gently over Josie’s face. “Why don’t you go on to bed, Esther? I’ll stay with her.”

“Oh, Sheriff, I’ll be fine now. I really didn’t mean to—”

“I insist,” he said quietly.

“But someone might find out you’re alone in here with her.”

And doing what? he thought ruefully. The woman was practically unconscious. He gave her a flat stare. “In light of things, I don’t really care.”

“She might.”

“I’m staying. Leave the door open. Hopefully Miz Webster will recover enough to take me to task herself.”

Esther hesitated, watching him wet the rag again and repeat the stroking motions on Josie’s face. “All right.”

She walked to the door. “I’m truly sorry, Sheriff. I don’t know what happened.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt, his attention on the slight figure in the bed.

Esther’s footsteps sounded down the stairs then faded away. The rag warmed with the heat of Josie’s flesh. The nearly transparent garment she wore wasn’t a chemise as he had first thought, but some one-piece thing that looked like a chemise and drawers combined. Except it wasn’t loose and shapeless like any shift he’d ever seen. This undergarment was fitted. Edged with delicate lace, it curved to her body like a second skin.

Especially damp as it was from repeated efforts to cool her down. The thin fabric clung to her breasts, revealing the darker flesh of her nipples, the dip of her navel, the shadow between her legs. Her breasts were small but full, and the perfect size for her petite frame. There was nothing wanting about them at all.

His mouth went dry and he grabbed the sheet, pulling it up over her. He dipped the cloth and ran it over her face, her neck, her chest. The faint tang of kerosene drifted from the lamp, but it was the scent of soft warm woman and honeysuckle that filled his lungs. Secluded with her like this, cornered by the night and the heat, Davis Lee felt his body harden. He lost track of how many times he wet the cloth, soothed her skin then repeated the motions.

He lifted her, applying the cool rag to her nape and the patch of skin on her back not covered by that infernal sheer piece of nothing. Her sobs quieted, but she twisted on the bed, kicking off the sheet.

He pulled up the cover and she moved it again. He couldn’t tell if her fever was coming down. High color still flushed her cheeks and chest. Her hairline was wet, her underwear and the sheets damp. He reached out and stroked a finger lightly against her temple.

She turned into his touch, moaning, “William.”

Who was William? Husband? Lover? Brother? She had never answered his questions about her family.

She mumbled incoherently, her arm slanting across her face again.

He murmured soothing words, lifted her arm to draw the wet cloth over her face and chest. She twitched beneath his hand, her head turning from side to side on her pillow. Her hair slid across her face and Davis Lee nudged the wet strands away.

“Blood,” she whispered brokenly. “So much blood.”

Another sob choked out of her and his heart caught at the deep-reaching agony of it. Blood? What was going on in her head? Just another question to add to the others he had about her.

He wished her fever would cool, that Catherine would return. He took her hand and dipped it into the water up to her wrist, spreading the wet rag on her chest for a moment. The tiny mole he’d glimpsed before at the edge of her collarbone teased him. And so did that damn transparent undergarment.

Davis Lee stared at her plump breasts and the dusky nipples that had drawn up like shy buds. Despite the fact that he knew she was lying about something, want pounded through him, low and fierce and hot. He moved his gaze from the flat of her stomach to the dark shadow between her legs. His breath hitched on the same sharp edge of desire he’d felt for another woman with lies in her eyes.

Davis Lee dragged a hand down his face, wishing he could erase this picture of her from his mind. He had no doubt he would carry this image to his grave. What he needed was to focus on getting her fever down, helping her through this. Then finding out her connection to Ian McDougal and why she had really come to Whirlwind.




Chapter Five


T he pain woke her, a searing agony that pulsed just below the surface of her skin. Her eyelids were heavy, and when she finally got her eyes open, her vision was slightly blurry. The tight heaviness against her lower left leg confirmed the splint she vaguely remembered Catherine fashioning. A bulky wrap of white cloth kept the poultice in place. The snakeroot must be drawing out the poison because her leg burned like fire.

Pale gray light tinged with the sun crept into the room. Trying to get her bearings, she stared at the dresser at the foot of the bed. She became aware of the damp sheets beneath her, the thick cotton feel of her mouth. The door was open.

Even with her senses dulled by pain and weakness she knew she wasn’t alone.

Her head felt too heavy for her neck and it was an effort to look over at the window. Davis Lee. Her mind stalled on that for a moment. She remembered shooting with him, resting against him on the ride here. Catherine Donnelly had put the poultice on her leg then the splint. That was the last thing Josie remembered.

Where was Catherine? How long had the sheriff been here? His back was to her. One broad shoulder braced against the wall as he stared out the window. He wore the same light blue shirt he’d worn yesterday. At least she thought it was the same.

The lamp’s low flame burned beside the bed, giving a golden haze to the watery daylight seeping into the room. Her gaze skimmed involuntarily down the dark trousers that molded his lean hips and long legs entirely too well. She remembered how it felt to be cradled between his hard thighs, held against that brawny chest. Only then did Josie’s numbed brain realize that she was nearly naked.

The fine lawn of her combination suit clung to her body like wet tissue. The sweats that she and Catherine expected now slicked her still-fevered flesh, causing the thin cloth to cup her breasts and the tops of her thighs. Who had undressed her? Him?

The fabric was transparent. Josie could see her nipples, her navel, everything she owned. Which meant he had, too.

The heat that flushed her from head to toe had her easing herself up and reaching for the sheet.

“You’re awake,” he said, turning around.

How had he known that? Startled, she made a desperate grab for the linen and caught the corner, drawing it up to her chest.

“Every time I did that, you kicked it off.”

She frowned at the tired rasp of his voice. Dark stubble shadowed his too-strong jaw, sharpening the angles of his face. His eyes burned with blue fire and his coffee-dark hair was furrowed from his fingers. His hat hung on the chair beside her bed.

He moved over to her. She pressed the sheet to her breasts, mortified at the thought that Davis Lee had seen her nearly naked.

He reached for the pitcher on the bedside table. After pouring water into a glass, he bent down and slid one hard, hot hand under her neck to hold her head.

His touch was gentle, at odds with the no-nonsense line of his lips, the cool knowing in his eyes. She sipped, looking down to escape his intense gaze. The liquid soothed the parched heat of her mouth but didn’t quench her thirst.

She drank greedily and he pulled back a little.

“Easy,” he murmured.

Trying to slow down, she finished the rest. He lowered her head back to the pillow and returned the glass to the bedside table. Her body still burned with fever, but she could feel the brand of his touch on her nape. His gaze on her body.

Her eyes met his and she was struck by the hard glitter of want in his eyes. Jaw tightening, he stepped away, behind the chair.

She fastened her gaze on her hands. Weakness pulled at her. “I thought Catherine was here.”

“She was called away on an emergency.”

It took too much effort to nod so Josie just absorbed the information. The mildness of Davis Lee’s voice relaxed her unease enough that she glanced at him. No emotion showed now on his handsome face, but his body was taut with a subtle tension. She didn’t recall him coming back after he’d fetched the herbs for Catherine.

He gestured to her leg. “Still hurt pretty bad?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember much of what happened after I brought you here?”

“Not really. Catherine, the snakeroot.” Somewhere in her mushy brain, she recalled another woman. Older. “Was Mrs. Wavers here?”

“For a bit.”

Her body ached. She didn’t have the energy of a sun-warmed cat. “I was unconscious.”

He nodded.

“How long?”

“Ten or twelve minutes without coming to. Then you were in and out.”

She was thirsty and the pain in her leg radiated through her whole body. “I don’t remember anything else.”

“You were burning up.” He felt her forehead, his big, rough hand gentle on her skin. “Still are.”

“Yes, I remember the fever….”

And strong hands moving softly over her face, her chest. Her gaze flew to Davis Lee. It had been him. Touching her. Soothing her.

His gaze dipped, skimmed over her body.

She squirmed beneath the sheet. “So…how long have you been here?”

“A while.”

She wondered if this dizziness was due to the snakebite or the blue-eyed man standing over her. “Who’s watching the jail?”

“Your window has a perfect view of it.” His gaze sharpened like a newly whetted blade. “But Jake stayed with the prisoner.”

His pointed answer told her he was on to her spying, but she couldn’t summon the energy to care or to keep it in her head for more than a fleeting moment. She could barely lift the sheet to blot her damp forehead and neck. For the first time she wondered if Davis Lee could be held responsible for McDougal dying in his custody. She wouldn’t want that.

Despite her listlessness and dulled thoughts, she was well aware he had saved her life. He didn’t look all that pleased about it. Neither was she. She didn’t want to owe him, but she couldn’t dance around the fact that she did.

“I…thank you. For saving my life,” she said quietly.

His shoulder lifted. “You’re the one who knew what to do. I guess that’s because your pa’s a doctor.”

“I could’ve died out there.” She saw a flare of emotion burn through the guarded blue depths of his eyes.

Sober acknowledgment passed between them, and Josie felt a solid connection to another person that she hadn’t experienced since the deaths of her parents.

He gave her a crooked grin. “You cured of wanting those shooting lessons?”

“No.” She licked her parched lips and tried for a smile. “I might have to save you sometime.”

He chuckled. “Unless you use something other than a gun, I don’t have a prayer.”




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