Whirlwind Groom (12 page)

Mitchell muttered something Davis Lee didn't catch.

Josie tried to wrestle her arm out of his hold. “I don't know what you think you're doing.”

He didn't ease up, just dragged her back into the lobby. He wanted to talk to her in private, but where? Not outside. Too many interruptions. Her room? That wouldn't do for her reputation.

Seeing the door behind the registration desk that led to Penn's small office, Davis Lee snatched up a lit candle from the corner of the wooden counter and hauled Josie behind it.

“What is going on?” She pushed at his hand with her free one, trying to pry his fingers loose.

“Get in there.” He released her to open the door.

She lunged away in an attempt to run, but he easily grabbed her around the waist and picked her up.

She gasped, shoving at his arm. “Put me down this instant!”

He elbowed his way inside the dark, windowless room then kicked the door shut and set her on her feet. The candle
provided only enough light to see her face. Immediately he was hit with the softness of her scent, the isolation of their location. “I want to talk to you.”

“Not in here.” She reached for the doorknob. “We're alone.”

He slammed a palm against the door and said through gritted teeth, “You don't want me asking these questions in front of an audience.”

“What questions?”

He nudged his body between her and the only way out, forcing her back one step then another. The candle's flame flickered with his movement. Even in the poor light, her eyes were luminous, her skin polished like pearl.

Irritated at himself for even noticing, Davis Lee cornered her the way he would a stray cow, crowding her without touch to move to the place he wanted her. He backed her the few feet across the room and set the candle down on Penn's small rolltop desk. The tiny flame threw a small oval of light against the wall.

“I don't like you dragging me off like that.” Josie rubbed at her arm, glaring at him. “People will talk. You heard Esther—”

“Where were you a while ago?”

She closed both hands over the edges of her shawl. “You saw me. In the dining room, remember?”

“No, when you were walking back to the hotel. Where were you coming from?”

“Here.”

He folded his arms and gave her a flat stare.

Wariness slid into her eyes. “I was,” she said evenly. “I walked out of the hotel and started toward the fire but came upon Charlie and Mitchell. They told me it was out so I turned around and went back to the hotel with them to tell Esther and Penn that everything was all right.”

She looked concerned. “Everything is all right, isn't it?”

“Not if you were at the jail just now.”

She blinked. “I told you—”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

“What's this about?” She edged down the wall and he copied her movement, keeping himself between her and the door.

She could easily have slipped out of the hotel, started the fire, waited for his attention to be diverted then made her way back to the jail. But she could just as easily have been returning to the hotel, as she'd said.

His eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the room so he could see her features, but he wanted to see her eyes. He angled his body so that she scooted back toward the desk. The air was thick and Davis Lee felt hot all over, which he figured was on account of being riled up. Not because he was close enough to count the freckles on her nose or see the rapid tap of her pulse in the hollow of her throat.

She watched him with wide eyes. “People saw us come in here,
alone.
”

“If you'd keep your voice down, no one would know where we are. Can you account for your time tonight?”

“Why?” The puzzlement in her eyes looked genuine. “You're making me nervous.”

The hand holding the edges of her shawl curled beneath the top of the light wool. Between her breasts.

“Uh-uh.” He covered her hand with his, squashing the flare of heat that moved up his arm when his knuckles brushed the soft swell of her breasts. “You keep away from that scalpel.”

Her eyes flashed, her hand tightening under his. He could feel the skitter of her pulse beneath his touch. If she thought she could get to that weapon, he knew she'd take the chance.

With one swift motion, he plucked the shawl from her.

She grabbed for it. “Give that back!”

“I'll just hang on to this so I can be sure you're not gonna try gettin' at that blade.”

Glaring at him, she wrapped her arms around her waist. The movement pushed her breasts up and against the plaid fabric of her bodice. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her hair sliding over her shoulder. His gaze unwillingly tracked down her body and back up, stopping at her breasts. Her nipples were hard; he could barely make them out in the pale light but there was no mistaking it.

She was enough to make his mouth go dry. Didn't she have on any undergarments under there? It registered now how soft and unrestrained she'd felt when he picked her up a minute ago. Hell.

She glanced down and drew in a breath. Even in the dim light, he could see her flush. Folding her arms so that her breasts were hidden, she pressed back into the wall. That grating note of cool slipped into her voice. “Just what is it you think I've done, Sheriff?”

“Tell me how you spent your time tonight.”

Her chin lifted stubbornly and for a long moment he thought she wouldn't answer. That went all over him. “If you'd rather take this to the jail—”

“I had dinner in the hotel dining room, then I went to my room and cut out the bodice for Catherine's wedding gown and then I went to bed.”

“What time?”

“I don't know.” At his arched eyebrow, she said, “An hour or two ago.”

“Your lamp went out only an hour ago.” The scent of her drifted into his lungs and his fingers curled tighter into her wrap.

She exhaled loudly and spoke with exaggerated patience. “If you know that, why are you asking me?”

“To see if you're telling the truth.”

She stilled. Just as she had during Cora's questions the
other night. Just as she had when Davis Lee had asked her about what she'd said during her fever.

“What do you think I've done?”

“I think you just came from my jail.”

“I didn't!” She held his gaze steadily, but he caught a flash of fear in her face.

“Someone took a shot at Ian McDougal tonight.”

Her eyes rounded. “Is he—?”

“No,” Davis Lee bit out. “He isn't dead.”

“I heard a gunshot,” she said slowly. “So did Esther and Charlie and Mitchell. None of us knew what it meant.”

“Don't you?”

“I said I didn't.” Hurt darkened her eyes.

He didn't want to notice that or feel regret over causing it. “McDougal wasn't even hit.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Then what's all this about?”

“Whoever set that fire did it to get me away from the jail so they could go after my prisoner.”

“And you obviously think it was me.”

He leveled his gaze into hers. “I'm wonderin' why you didn't want to resume your shooting lessons tonight.”

“Maybe I had something else to do.”

“Like try to kill my prisoner?”

For one instant, raw pain filled her eyes. Her mouth tightened.

He stared flatly at her. “Josie?” he snapped.

Anger vibrated in every line of her slender body. Despite the way she narrowed her eyes, Davis Lee wasn't prepared when she said, “Okay, I did it.”

“What?”
He stiffened.

“I tied my sheets together and climbed out of my hotel window. Right in plain view of everyone. Then I ran to the other end of town and started a fire. Then I dashed over to the jail to shoot McDougal and managed to get back to my
room and come downstairs with Penn and Esther.” Her voice, trembling with anger and hurt, sliced at him. “And I was so sure you wouldn't catch me. Aren't I silly?”

His blood boiled. He leaned toward her, perversely glad when she pressed harder into the wall. “Why don't you tell me what I want to know?”

She angled her chin at him but he swore he saw fear in her face again. Her gaze flickered to the door. For the first time he wondered if she were afraid of
him,
rather than what he might find out.

“It sounds like you want me to say I tried to shoot your prisoner.”

“Did you?”

“You really think
I
shot at him?” She looked incredulous.

“Do you have a gun on you?”

She spread her arms wide, looking down at herself. “Do you see one anywhere?”

She clamped her lips tight as if she hadn't meant to say that.

“There's not one hidden in the pocket of your skirt?”

“No,” she said shortly, crossing her arms again. “And don't even think you're going to feel my…touch my…do what you did before.”

If his whole body hadn't been hard before, it was now.

“You, of all people, know I'm a terrible shot. You said so. I've only had one lesson. How could I hit anything?”

“Whoever shot at McDougal missed him.”

“Oh.” For a long moment, she was silent. “Well, it wasn't me.”

The way the light slid down her throat, played at the edges of her standing white collar had Davis Lee's fingers itching to touch her. He'd better get out of here before he did something stupid.

“If I find out it was you, I'll stick your pretty little hide in jail.” He turned, stepping toward the door.

He heard her rush at him and spun, expecting to see the glint of her blade. Grabbing her around the waist, he yanked her tight against him, restraining her. “When are you going to learn your lesson, Josie? I've taken that blade from you before. I can—”

“Give me my shawl,” she said thickly, her hands flattened against his chest. Pushing at him.

Her hands were empty. There was no sign of the scalpel. She strained away from him, but her hip bumped his groin. The sudden smoky explosion of lust in his belly had him thrusting the shawl at her, releasing her so quickly she stumbled back as she clutched at the fabric.

“Remember what I said,” he growled, reaching around her to pick up the candle before opening the door of Penn's office. After a quick look at the lobby, he said, “No one's out here so you can go on back to your room knowing your reputation is safe.”

“I'm not going anywhere until you leave.” Her voice cracked, but she kept her eyes narrowed on him.

He could've sworn he saw tears. Why? Because she
had
taken a shot at the outlaw and Davis Lee had found her out? Or because he'd hurt her?

He didn't like the way his conscience pinged at him, didn't like that he wanted to apologize for dragging her in here, for accusing her of lying and attempting to kill his prisoner.

Apologize? For trying to find out what she was up to? No way in hell.

I
nfuriating, insufferable bully! That's what she thought of Davis Lee Holt. Approaching her in a group of people then hauling her behind closed doors! Josie was still fuming about it the next day as she settled into her place at the window of her hotel room.

The morning saw fat gray clouds scudding in from the west, but by midafternoon the sun was out, drenching the earth with soft warmth. Catherine's wedding was to be held in mid-October, less than a month from now. Josie made good progress on stitching together the wedding gown's back bodice. She worked the pale blue silk easily, which enabled her to pay ample attention to the jail.

She was not going for her shooting lesson tonight. Davis Lee Holt could wait until Judgment Day for all she cared.

As the day passed, Josie saw McDougal twice, both times when Davis Lee took the prisoner behind the jail to the outhouse. The sheriff's gaze rose straight to her on leaving
and
returning to the jail but she refused to look at him except when his back was turned.

The man made a rattlesnake look cuddly and more than once during the day Josie found herself wanting to scream in frustration. How dare he accuse her of shooting at
McDougal! She didn't like Davis Lee's attitude, his high-handedness, his certainty that she'd been involved.

His distrust of her stung deep. She didn't like him thinking that she had made an attempt on Ian McDougal's life, which was complete and utter nonsense because she'd come here to do that very thing.

Since
she
hadn't tried to kill the outlaw—yet—who had? Ian and his brothers had murdered several people throughout the state, and threatened even more. With the deaths of his three brothers a few months ago, Ian was left to accept the punishment for what they'd all done and Josie probably wasn't the only one who wanted to see him pay for the crimes. In Whirlwind alone, she could count three people who had good reason for vengeance.

Catherine Donnelly's fiancé, Jericho Blue, had more against the outlaws than their coercing and blackmailing her into doctoring Ian's tuberculosis. The McDougals had killed his partner, also a Ranger and injured Jericho severely.

Susannah Holt had escaped death only by luck when the gang and their horses rushed her wagon, causing it to crash. If her husband, Riley, went after Ian, Josie didn't think it would be under cover of darkness. Not if Riley was anything like his brother, the sheriff.

If Cora Wilkes, whose husband, Ollie, had been murdered by the outlaws, had been the one to shoot at McDougal, she probably wouldn't have missed. The woman seemed competent in every area. Besides, Josie couldn't see the woman taking the law into her own hands.

Since Josie planned to do exactly that, she needed to find someone else to teach her to shoot. There had to be someone who was willing, someone
polite
who didn't make her want to scream. Aggravated, she huffed out a breath. She needed someone with frequent access to the outlaw so she could continue to check up on him. That person was Davis Lee.

And if she didn't appear this evening for her lesson, he
would view that as an admission of guilt. It didn't matter that she'd told him she hadn't shot at McDougal. Davis Lee would think he'd been right about her. Which had her clenching her teeth.

The hurt she felt had nothing to do with the
sheriff's
opinion of her and everything to do with what Davis Lee,
the man,
thought of her. That realization didn't sit well. At all. She was forced to admit for the first time in two years that she wasn't sure she could carry out her plan.

Oh, but she
had
to. She might be the only justice her parents and William ever saw. Calling their faces to mind, replaying the horror of finding them dead in the house, had her spine stiffening and her heart clenching. The only man she'd come to Whirlwind for was Ian McDougal and she wasn't leaving until she got him. Davis Lee Holt was going to help her do that.

She would go for her shooting lesson if for no other reason than to prove he was wrong about her.

After dressing in her dark blue split skirt and a plain white bodice, she braided her hair. She left her hotel room just before six o'clock and paid a visit to Jed Doyle, the town gunsmith. By the time she knocked on Davis Lee's office door at five minutes before seven, she had corralled her emotions. Mostly. Seeing the fleeting astonishment in his blue eyes when he opened the door to find her went a long way toward soothing her wounded pride.

He really hadn't expected her to show up. Well, she had, and now he would have to deal with her.

He was without his hat, his walnut-dark hair furrowed as though he'd run his hands through it repeatedly. One thick lock fell over his forehead, making her want to smooth it back into place. He studied her for a moment, some undefinable emotion in his eyes.

Wishing her pulse would stop jumping around at the sight
of him, she cocked her head and asked in her sweetest voice, “You didn't forget about my lesson, did you, Sheriff?”

He leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb, his gaze speculative as if he didn't quite know what to do with her. “I didn't forget.”

“You look surprised to see me.”

“I wasn't sure you'd come.”

Knowing she'd been right didn't dim the hurt she still felt over the fact that he believed her guilty of last night's shooting. “I knew if I didn't, you'd think I was off shooting someone again.”

Was that regret that flashed across his face? Unlikely. And why did she care anyway? “I'm ready if you are.”

Stepping back, he opened the door wide and jerked a thumb toward a brawny, black-haired man who sat on the far corner of Davis Lee's desk polishing a rifle. “This is Jake Ross, one of my deputies. Jake, this is Josie Webster.”

She leaned into the room and smiled at the man who appeared to be about Davis Lee's age. “Hello.”

“Ma'am,” the man said gruffly, his dark gaze barely meeting hers before skipping away shyly.

Davis Lee motioned her inside. “Come in while I get your gun.”

She wasn't moving any closer to him than she had to. “If you're getting the .45 for me, there's no need.”

Reaching his desk, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Why not?”

She patted the pocket hidden in the front of her skirt. “I took your advice and bought one of those pocket revolvers.”

He turned, looking confounded for the second time since she'd arrived. “Did Jed help you?”

“Yes.”

One of Davis Lee's big, sun-weathered hands slid down the inside of his thigh to check the leather thong of his gun
belt. At the sight of his hand there, she got a funny ache in her throat. She jerked her gaze back to his face.

“Did you get bullets?”

“Even though I'm new at this, I'm pretty sure you need them for target practice,” she said coolly.

His mouth tightened a fraction and Josie heard a smothered sound from his deputy.

She lifted a small package wrapped in brown paper. “I have two boxes here.”

He nodded. Sweeping up his hat from his chair and settling it on his head, he started toward her. “Jake, I'll probably only be about an hour.”

“No hurry,” the other man said in a quiet drawl. “Nice to meet you, Miz Webster.”

“You, too.” She smiled again then moved down the steps as Davis Lee shut the door to the jail and followed her. “Are we going back to the same place outside of town?”

She had worn her split skirt again so that she could ride.

“No. We're going out behind Catherine's.”

As they stepped into the street, Josie frowned up at him.

“I've already asked and she said it would be fine. The chances of seeing a snake there are much less.”

“Oh. That's good.” She didn't know if his thoughtfulness was out of deference to her snakebite or the fact that he didn't want to be too far away from town. Either way, she was glad.

Davis Lee started east in the direction of the hotel. “Catherine and her brother live just up the hill past the church.”

Josie fell into step with him, wishing she knew what he was thinking, then in the next breath, glad she didn't. She waited for him to say something about her watching the jail today from her window, but he didn't. Since the hotel was situated at the edge of town, they were out of Whirlwind quickly and passed no one on their way to Catherine's. Da
vis Lee remained quiet during their walk to the small pale yellow house.

It wasn't anger she felt from him but something she couldn't define. Catherine and her brother weren't home so Davis Lee led Josie around the house, past a root cellar, a small garden and a springhouse. They angled toward a nice-size barn, its double doors pushed wide.

Josie waited outside the barn while he went inside and returned with a hay bale hoisted on each shoulder.

“What are those for?” she asked.

“Thought we'd try something besides cans this time.”

“A bigger target?” Her mouth quirked. “Do you have hopes I might be able to hit one of these?”

“Yes.” He smiled, causing a tickle in her stomach.

She looked away, making herself recall the way he'd spoken to her last night. He strode behind the barn, walking into the pasture beyond. Late-day sunlight, the color of old gold, shifted across the prairie, running over the tips of endless buffalo grass. The muscles in his arms strained at the sleeves of his blue shirt.

Several yards away from the weathered building, he stopped in a gentle dip of ground and dumped one rectangular bale on top of the other.

He started past her toward the barn again then stopped. “Josie?”

She looked up, her nerves prickling at the intensity in his eyes.

“I'd like to apologize.”

She blinked. “W-what?”

He braced his hands on his hips and faced her, his eyes glittering beneath the brim of his hat. “I was too harsh last night. I shouldn't have handled things that way and I'm sorry.”

Stunned, she stared at him. “You obviously thought I was guilty.”

“I did. I don't now.”

“Why not?”

“I just…don't think so.”

“So you do believe that last night I was where I said I was?”

“Yes.”

Why did he believe her now? She shoved down the pleasure she felt at his apology. “I don't understand.”

“If you were guilty, you wouldn't have shown up tonight.”

“And if I really had been the one who took a shot at McDougal, I probably would've left town after your accusations.”

“I figure that's right.”

Though she was glad Davis Lee no longer suspected her, there was something… “I understand,” she said softly, stifling a twinge of disappointment.

“Understand what?”

“The reason you believe me isn't because I told you I didn't shoot at him. It's because you watched the hotel all night to see if I would go anywhere. And since I didn't, you've decided maybe I was telling the truth.”

He kept his gaze trained on hers and she knew by the implacable look on his face that she was right. Why did that hurt so much?

“Did anyone see me last night who could confirm where I was?” Her voice sounded ragged. “I'm sure you asked around.”

He nodded. “I'm apologizing because I was too harsh.”

“And arrogant?”

After a slight pause, he acceded with a nod.

“And a bully,” she added.

“Going for blood?” He grinned. “And a bully.”

His admission had her lips curving, but as glad as she
was to hear his apology, he was much less dangerous when he wasn't being so likable. “Thank you. I accept.”

“Good.” He smiled into her eyes and her heart skipped a beat.

His fierce questioning of her last night had left her wondering. “If something happened to McDougal while he was here, would you be held accountable?”

“Yes. He's in my jail, after all.”

Josie didn't want that. Davis Lee had saved her life and now she could be endangering his job. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him, but McDougal had to pay for murdering her loved ones.

She watched him stride back to the barn, long legs eating up the distance. She wanted him to believe her because he
trusted
her. The admission sent a jolt of panic through her, had her backing up mentally. No, she didn't care if he trusted her or not. The reason she was here with him was twofold: to learn to shoot, and to use him to find out information about the man she intended to kill.

Davis Lee returned with two more bales, stacking them atop the others to make a straw tower. The pressed hay sat considerably closer to her than the cans had at her first target practice.

“Do we need to start at the beginning?” Davis Lee came to stand beside her.

“No,” she said shortly. “I remember what you taught me.”

She dipped into her pocket and pulled out her new weapon. She popped the chamber and held it up so he could see it was empty. “After I load it, I sight the target—do I just aim for a place on the bale?”

“I'll get something.” He walked back to the front of the barn and disappeared around the corner then returned with a burlap bag. Walking the twenty or so feet to the hay bales he stretched the feed sack the length of a bale and tucked
it beneath the thin rope that held the hay together. He turned the marked side toward her so that the name of a feed company and some words too small to read were visible.

“Aim for the circle of words.”

She nodded, desperate to hit the target today, to finally learn how to do this.

He moved up beside her. “What else do you remember from last time?”

You yanking off my corset.
“Don't point the gun unless I'm prepared to use it.”

He nodded. “Ready when you are.”

“All right.” She opened the box Jed Doyle had filled with bullets.