Mountain Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) (12 page)

He whistled and Maggie spotted the moving patches of brown and white, his horse walking along the other side of the trees and scrub. She couldn’t just stand here in the brush like a frightened rabbit. Facing his anger couldn’t be worse than the past weeks of heartache and worry.

As she stepped into the open he pulled her gun from a scabbard beside his saddle. His ivory shirt and the pale hair beneath his hat made him stand out like a beacon in the afternoon sun. He looked back and smiled at her, and Maggie’s heart skipped a few beats. He strode toward her, all stealth and brawn, far more handsome than she remembered. His clean-shaven jaw was no less appealing than his short beard had been. She couldn’t close her eyes during the past two months without seeing those rugged features. His voice haunted her dreams.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her the long gun.

“Thank you.” She lifted the straps from her shoulders and let her pack hit the ground at her heels. She shoved the gun into the sleeve sewn into the side, beside the brown fur coat she’d strapped to the outside. Garret watched her, the brim of his hat shading his eyes, his expression uncommonly vague.

He had to know.

“You sure took your sweet time in coming off that mountain. I was starting to think you’d decided to keep Boots for your own.”

“I was tempted,” she said, wondering where his anger had gone. “He’s a good dog.”

“The best, and a vital part of my crew. Boots does the work of two riders. A few more days and I’d have come for him.”

“We’ve been slow moving and we took a longer route.”

“I noticed. When did you start down?”

“Four days ago,” she said, taking another step back, anxious to be on her way. “The south side has more coverage.”

“Also made it real easy to avoid me,” he said.

“Well…I tried,” she said, figuring there was no point in lying to him.

“Why?”

The question was more of a demand.

The sound of an approaching horse stole her attention. She stepped back into the shadows of the shrubs behind her. Garret followed her gaze.

“It’s Everett,” he said as the horse and rider topped a nearby hillside. “One of my ranch hands.”

Didn’t make any difference to her who the man worked for—she didn’t know him. She wasn’t in the habit of allowing anyone to be near her. Plenty of men had tried to catch her, even before there was a bounty on her head.

“Everett’s a good kid,” Garret said, moving in beside her. “He’s no threat to you.”

She didn’t look away from the rider closing in on them. His eyes widened when he spotted her near the trees. His gaze shifted between her, Garret and the dog standing between them as he reined in.

“I, uh…thought I heard Boots barking.”

“You did. Everett Perish, this is Mrs. Danvers.”

Her gaze whipped toward Garret.
Mrs. Danvers?
No one had ever addressed her by Ira’s last name.

“Ain’t you Mad Mag?”

“Everett.”

The young man stiffened at the harsh tone of Garret’s voice.

“Apologize to Mrs. Danvers.”

“I apologize,” Everett obediently replied. His twisted expression showed he wasn’t rightly sure what he was apologizing for. “I didn’t mean no offense.”

“None taken,” she said, though she didn’t attempt a hospitable expression.

“I left your supper on the stove,” he said to Garret.

“I appreciate it. If you’ve eaten go ahead and get started on the next section of roofing.”

“Yes, sir.” He briefly met her gaze as he tugged on the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.” He turned his horse and made a fast retreat.

“That wasn’t necessary,” she said to Garret. “He didn’t say anything that’s not true.”

“Your name isn’t Mad Mag. It’s
Mrs.
Maggie Danvers.”

“As with most gossip, you’re only half right.”

“You’re married,” he said with bold accusation.

“I’ve never married. I was kept. Hell of a difference if you ask me.” A difference he’d shown her in such a short time.

His expression softened. “Are you still?”

“Am I still what?”

“Are you still
kept?
”

Caution pricked at her skin. Only one person on this earth knew the truth about Ira. It appeared Chance Morgan had kept his word.

“Well, are you?” Garret demanded.

She couldn’t lie to him. “Ira’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, though his expression showed clear relief. “When did he die?”

“Seven years back.”

His eyes flared. “You’ve lived alone up there for seven years?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

“Why wouldn’t it? You had to be so young. How old are you?”

“Same age as you, I suppose.”

A single blond eyebrow quirked up.

“Old enough.”

His lips hinted at a smile. “I swear, if you ever gave me a direct answer I’d likely have heart failure.”

“I’m twenty-seven. How old are you?”

“You can’t be the one with all the secrets. How did Ira die?”

“Bear. Caught him by surprise. Ira was strong, but he wasn’t a young man.”

“You weren’t much more than a child. How did you end up with him?”

“I was…in trouble. He helped me.”

“Where’s your family.”

“Dead,” she said, knowing her father had been the only person who’d ever truly cared about her, and the only one she considered family.

“You must have a last name.”

“I don’t.” She gave up her last name when she’d been given away.

“I don’t even know what to call you,” he said, his hushed tone jabbing at her conscience.

“I didn’t lie to you, not really. My name is Margaret Grace. Most call me Maggie. Or Mag. Mad Mag to some,” she said with a shrug. “I suppose Maggie would do. Or Grace. Hell, I don’t care.”

“I think I’ll call you Magpie.”

“A
bird?
”

“It’s a compliment,” he assured her, the smile she’d come to love making her weak in the knees. “Why don’t you come on up to the bunkhouse and have dinner with me?”

Maggie stared at him in disbelief. She’d just admitted to being Mad Mag and he was inviting her to his ranch?

“You walked a long way to get here. You’ve got to be hungry.”

She was, but not hungry enough to be lured up to his ranch.

“Thank you, but, no.”

“Why not? The rest of my men won’t be back on the ranch until nightfall. You already met Everett.”

“I can’t. I’ve got—”

“I’d appreciate the company. It’s been too long since I had anything to look forward to.”

“Dinner with me is hardly something to look forward to.”

“Can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more.”

Sensation swirled low in her belly. “If you’re looking to repeat what happened that last night, I’m not—”

“I’m inviting you to supper,” he said, irritation darkening his eyes, “not my bed. You’re headed to my sister’s place, aren’t you?”

She hesitated. She’d never thought of Morgan’s ranch as his sister’s place. “Yes.”

“After we eat I’ll lend you my horse.”

“I can manage on my own.”

“You’ll manage better in a saddle. It’s only an hour ride through the canyon passes on horseback.”

“Wouldn’t be right,” she said, shaking her head.

“You kept my dog for over two months. I don’t see how sharing my supper and borrowing a horse could be improper. Besides, we’re friends.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“Only ’cause you haven’t met the right people.”

Maggie nearly smiled. “You think you’re the right people?”

“Yes, ma’am. I know I am.”

His confidence and easy charm impossible to resist, a smile worked its way across her lips.

Not waiting for her reply, he lifted her backpack, shifting the heavy weight onto his shoulder. “What do you have stuffed in here?”

“A winter’s worth of work.”

“No wonder it took you four days to get down here. This pack must weigh more than you.” He hoisted her supplies toward his saddle, draped the straps over the saddle horn and Maggie realized she was being railroaded.

“Garret, I haven’t—”

“At least walk back to the ranch with me.” He grabbed his horse by the reins and held his hand out to her.

Staring at his open palm brought back the memory of the last time she’d taken the hand of another.

You old enough, Margaret Grace?

She could still feel Ira’s big, rough fingers closing over hers. She couldn’t have guessed where taking his hand would lead her.

Run, Maggie.

She had, blindly following him into her new life. Some days, like today, it seemed she’d never stopped running. Wasn’t anything she could do but trudge forward—it was too damn painful to look back.

“Maggie?”

She looked up at Garret’s handsome face. His smile gentle, his green eyes seeming so disarming, she wondered where taking his hand would lead. The fact that he could still look at her with affection in his eyes truly amazed her.

“Why aren’t you put off by me?”

“Why should I be?”

She could only glance down.

“A bit of buckskin doesn’t hide the fact that you’re pretty as a magpie. I’ve also seen you wearing nothing but a smile while I kissed every inch of soft skin hidden beneath those clothes.”

Heat rushed to her face. “How improper of you to say so.”

Garret chuckled. “Propriety has never carried much weight in the Daines family. Hard work and honesty, now those are qualities to live by.”

She’d noticed that about him.

“I can also be a gentleman,” he said, stepping close and capturing her hand in his. “If I try real hard.”

Her skin tingled at the sudden contact, the jolt of sensation taking the air from her lungs, but she didn’t pull away. As he led her toward his ranch in the distance she strived to suck in a deep, calming breath. Boots trotted along beside them.

That mangy mongrel had gotten her into this.

“I can’t stay. I don’t want your ranch hand getting any notions about us.”

“Right. You being a woman who avoids scandal and all.”

She pulled her hand from his. “
I do.
I’m not known for being social.”

Garret wanted to snatch her hand right back but she tucked them away, folding her arms as she walked beside him. Her face hidden beneath the wide brim of her hat, he could only see the stubborn set of her jaw and loose, black hair. No more than he’d seen of her that day in town. Her heavy bearskin coat hadn’t given any indication of the delicate woman beneath. She’d been guarded by enough stench and grime to keep him from looking any closer.

“Darlin’, no one around these parts knows you at all.”

“I intend to keep it that way.”

Garret knew at least one man had been close enough to Maggie to know she wasn’t what she seemed. “Chance mentioned he housed your mare over winter. That’s a long spell to be without a horse.”

“I don’t mind walking. I miss the company, but Star also makes me more visible.”

“I noticed her right off when I saw you in Bitterroot Springs. I was told Chance had sold Star to Ira. I’m curious as to how he’d do that when Ira’s been dead for nine years.”

“Morgan was being helpful.”

“He knew about Ira?”

“He’s the only one who knows for certain. He helped me bury him.”

Old jealousy reared at the thought of Chance harboring her secrets, forging a relationship with another woman Garret had a mind to pursue. To be so close to her, Chance had to know the rumors of Mad Mag were unjust.

“He helped you bury your man and then abandoned you?”

Maggie looked up, her expression creased with confusion. “I wasn’t his to abandon. It was bad enough he’d approached me without my notice. If I hadn’t needed help with the grave, I likely would have shot him on sight. And he knew it. When we parted ways he was as glad to be rid of my presence as I was to be rid of his.”

“Chance must think highly of you to sell you his favorite horse.”

“I doubt that. More likely he was feeling guilty after running off his bride. I guess she had second thoughts about marrying him. She took a mind to trek over the mountain and Chance was grateful to get her back unharmed.”

Garret remembered that day quite well and didn’t care to reflect on his foolishness. He hadn’t known about Maggie’s involvement. The notion that anyone could be so close to her and not be struck by such delicate beauty and a vibrant spirit was a sheer wonder to him.

“A few weeks later I found Star in my yard with a note that said he’d house her over winter if needed. I was leery to accept the offer and he likely thinks me rude and ungrateful. I don’t really care what he thinks so long as he keeps his word and his distance.”

Seemed to Garret that Chance could have been a tad more elaborate about his involvement with Maggie. A mention of Ira’s passing would have eased his torment of the past two months, and his maddening urge to drag her from those moun
tains and demand some explanation. He supposed Chance’s silence was his meager way of protecting her.

“Did you know they put a warrant out for your arrest after your scuffle in Bitterroot?”

“Yeah. I saw the posters last fall.”

“Men like Strafford tend to bully those they don’t believe will shove back. Guess he learned his lesson.”

“Men like him never learn,” she said, her voice rough with anger. She looked up, her gaze accusing. “His death would have been a favor to gentle society. Why did you stop me?”

It was still hard for him believe it had been Grace standing beside him that day—or rather,
Maggie.
He recalled her hands shaking on the rifle as she held the barrel to Strafford’s chest. She’d knocked him out cold. If she had pulled that trigger she’d have been charged with murder.

“Because that mob would have caught you and you’d have hanged.”

“You didn’t know me. Why should you care if I hanged?”

“I knew enough. You were alone and you weren’t seeking trouble.”

“I might have turned my gun on
you.
”

“That thought did cross my mind. As you said, you’re not known for being social. I was more worried about an innocent woman coming to harm because of an arrogant jackass like Strafford.”