The farmer’s wife slipped beside her and tucked two bunches of carrots among the tomatoes and greens in Winnie’s basket. Beneath a worn bonnet, crinkles fanned the corners of bright eyes and bracketed up-tipped lips. “For you, we always have extra. If you hadn’t told us about the land—”
“I’m thankful someone loves the place again.” The homestead had sat abandoned for too many years, decaying in step with a ruined old man. She dug for a smile beneath the horror of Comanche arrows and flames. “Henry is, too.”
Roy would be, as well, if he ever found his way through contempt.
After accepting a hug from Mrs. Gunderson, she stepped away from the wagon. “I should be going. I’ll unbar the alley door for your husband.”
She turned on her heel and, for a moment, returned the brazen stare of the armed guard her friends and neighbors didn’t want; didn’t need. She closed her eyes and convinced her feet not to run. The first step would be the hardest.
The wall into which she plowed when she swung to set off for the café proved even harder.
Her eyelids flew open, and her gaze climbed a field of deep blue. Two columns of brass buttons, a pair of golden bars on each shoulder…
In the shadow of a slouch hat decorated with gold braid and crossed sabers, a courtly smile sucked the vigor from her veins.
The officer stepped back and tugged the hat’s brim. “Pardon my inattention, Mrs. Edmonds.”
“Captain Dunleavy. How nice to see you this morning.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”
“I appreciate your gallantry, but—”
“I insist.” A gauntleted grip claimed her basket.
Clasping her fingers, he laid her palm in the crook of his elbow. The scratch of Union-blue wool sent a shudder up her arm.
“My men behaved despicably yesterday.” The apologetic tone drew her attention to the kindness, the offer of protection, in the bluebelly’s expression. “They won’t trouble you again. We’re not here to harass honest—”
“Dunleavy.”
The shout snapped the officer’s gaze over his shoulder. He dropped an inscrutable glance into her eyes and continued their stroll.
Roy caught up, then passed them. Badge glittering in the sun, he walked backward a few steps and stopped, blocking the Yankee’s path.
A spare breeze fluttered the ostrich plume curling along the brim of the captain’s hat. “Marshal Halverson. Just the man I wanted to see.”
Roy’s smile showed too many teeth. Stare locked with Captain Dunleavy’s, he extended a hand to her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll chaperone my fiancée.”
Fiancée? The term rankled, but she wouldn’t correct him mid-rescue.
The officer relinquished the hostage vegetables but trapped her palm against his forearm before she could withdraw. “We need to speak, Marshal.”
Roy glanced at the gauntlet covering her fingers, then resumed the staring match. His too-friendly smile never dimmed. “I’ll be along shortly.”
“I’ll look forward to your visit.” Captain Dunleavy released her and performed a precise about-face. Dust puffed around his boots as he marched toward the headquarters he’d commandeered at the edge of town.
Winnie latched a grip around Roy’s arm.
Without moving his head, he swept his gaze from boardwalk to boardwalk as he enforced a slow saunter. A strident whisper delivered a command. “Stop shaking, honey. I don’t want to have to pick you up off the ground.”
She matched his tone. “What does he want with you?”
“Won’t know ’til I talk to him.”
“You don’t think—”
“I think he knows a pretty widow when he sees one.” Roy returned a passing corporal’s nod, then resumed scanning the street. “Four days, and we’ll be gone. I’ve found a little rancho down near Brownsville.”
“Brownsville?” A sudden chill thinned her voice. “In the Nueces Strip?”
“It’s not half as bad as you’ve heard, and the army’s been ordered to stay away from the border. We’ll be safe there.”
She pressed fingertips to the bridge of her nose, hard, but the throb behind her eyes refused to be tamed. “Roy—”
“We don’t have the luxury of choosiness. When I got the chance to buy the place, I jumped.”
“Buy the place?”
Without so much as a glance in her direction, he answered with a curt nod. “Marry me, honey. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”
Why did she hear a demand, not a promise? The headache claimed her cheekbones, then her teeth.
Roy stopped at the steps to the café, handed her up onto the boardwalk, and thrust the basket of vegetables into her hands. “I’ll be back this evening. We’ll talk.”
As he retreated, Winnie studied broad shoulders, the pistol slung on one hip. In the dozen years of her marriage to Mark, they’d barely scraped by on a marshal’s salary. How had Roy saved enough to buy a ranch?
We’ll be safe. In a lawless no-man’s land? Only the worst kind of people found sanctuary in the Nueces Strip. Desperadoes like the man in the jail.
Cutthroats, killers, and thieves.
****