Badlands Bride

“Stood there pretty as you please with her skirts hiked up and her prissy white drawers bared to all nature—whoo-ee!” A gleeful cackle followed. “And when that fella reached for her, she all-fired brung that skinny knee up and busted his nose! He couldn’t absquatulate fast enough!”

Men’s chuckles followed.

Hallie burned with embarrassment and aggravation. Why, that dirty, low-down coot! Mr. Tubbs had treated her with the utmost respect and dignity, only to turn around and make jest of her nearly disastrous episode with the bandits! She ought to go in there and give him a piece of her mind.

Glass sounded against glass and a belch erupted.

“Don’t get too corned, Ferlie. You gotta head that stage out in the mornin’.”

“Never was a mornin’ I couldn’t sit atop a horse or a stage, no matter how many jugs or women I polished off the night afore.”

Laughter erupted once again.

The saloon. She backed away. She’d been around enough men in her life to know not to draw attention to herself when they were drinking.

Hallie stole away from the tent and found her way in the moonlight. The livery was dark. Imagining the huge black-haired man watching her from a crack in the wall, she switched her valise from one hand to the other and continued on. A beckoning yellow glow burned from the window of DeWitt’s home, and she followed it easily.

She had no idea what time it was, her timepiece having been stolen, and wondered if he was asleep—she paused several feet away—or back at the saloon.

The barn wasn’t lighted, but she found it easily enough. A sliding barrier now covered the wide opening he’d pulled the wagon through. A regular door stood to the side. She rested her fingers on the latch.

Did they tie their horses up in here or would she be trampled? Was Jack in here somewhere? This no longer seemed like such a good idea.

“We hang horse thieves out here.”

Hallie gasped and dropped her valise, whirling to face the man who’d spoken at her ear. Beneath the palm she flattened against her breast, her heart beat wildly. A broad-shouldered, unmistakably masculine form was silhouetted against the moon. “Mr. DeWitt!” She dropped her hand and caught her breath. “You nearly frightened me to death!”

“Better than hanging.”

“I wasn’t going to steal a horse!”

“No? What are you doing sneaking into my barn, then?”

Hallie’s confidence had taken a beating. She struggled for poise. “I—” she didn’t want to admit this “— I was just going to spend the night.”

“And abandon your cozy spot by the river?”

She gaped at him in the darkness. “You were spying on me?”

“Spying?” he asked, and his head tilted uncertainly.

“Snooping? Watching without permission?”

“I was spying,” he agreed.

“Well!” She adjusted her jacket and stood straighter. Good heavens, had he even known when she’d hung her backside in the weeds? Hallie’s posture went slack. She scratched absently at the place she’d just thought of.

“Come.” He picked up the valise and reached for her arm.

Hallie pulled away. “What are you doing?”

He wrapped his fingers around her arm and hauled her forward. “You can’t stay outside all night, and you can’t stay in the barn.”

Through her jacket his touch was just firm and unyielding enough to not hurt. “Is Jack in there?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my house. You’ll stay there, and then I’ll get some sleep.”

“I can’t stay with you! You’ve already said it’s highly improper.”

He stopped before his door and released his hold. “Proper doesn’t hold much water out here.”

She realized that. But she wasn’t from here. She was from the East, where propriety meant everything. She glanced back out at the unending expanse of darkness. But then, Bostonians didn’t have to deal with wild animals and Indians, did they? “Are there any bears near?”

He reached for the latch and opened the door. Welcoming light spilled across the threshold and revealed his muscled body in the buckskin clothing. “Grizzly.”

More afraid of bears than of him, Hallie hastily stepped past him into the room. “You’re right. Proper doesn’t even seem wise at this point.”

He carried her valise to the room where she’d washed earlier and returned with an enormous roll of furs.

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to the room. “I’ll sleep here.” He pointed to the floor by the fireplace.

Hallie glanced from the room to the furs. She hadn’t meant to put the man out of his bed.

“I’ll sleep in the barn if you want,” he said, as though he misunderstood her hesitation.

“No.” She scratched at her jaw. “I don’t want to impose on you. I could sleep here.”

“You’ll have the room to yourself. I’ve slept on the ground most of my life.”

She looked at him curiously. What kind of family and upbringing had he come from? “You have?”

He frowned and stepped closer.

Hallie felt herself shrink from his immense form.

Gently, he took her hand and inspected the bites, dropping it to tip her chin up and study her neck and jaw with a warm blue gaze. He released her, and her skin tingled where he’d touched her. He brought water from the stove. For such a large man, he moved gracefully, without a sound. She glanced down at his knee-high moccasins. “This is still warm,” he said. “Go wash. I have something for the itch.”

Hallie accepted the pan and closed the door behind her. She stared in surprise. Her trunk stood against the wall. Why had he brought it in? Grateful he had, she removed the broken lock and opened the lid, sorting through the jumbled contents. Her clothing was dusty and wrinkled, but cleaner than what she was wearing. She slipped out of her traveling suit, washed and dressed in a nightgown and modest robe.

She opened the door and peered out.

DeWitt waited near the table. “Sit.”

Approaching him made her feel small and at his mercy, a feeling she didn’t like. Hallie studied his well-carved, sun-burnished face. Tonight she was at his mercy. She sat. Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest.