The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride. Debra Cowan

      Ever since he had confessed to murder, Gideon had waited for revulsion to darken Ivy’s eyes. He searched her face for it now, but she seemed intent only on the dog.

      “Earlier, you said you had no family.”

      And that he’d killed a man. Was that where she was headed?

      “When did you lose them? In the war?”

      Because the question wasn’t what he expected, it took a second for him to answer. The war had taken so many, entire families in some cases, though not from Gideon. “Never had a family.”

      “You’re an orphan?”

      He nodded. Her brother was the closest thing to family Gideon had ever had.

      “Smith didn’t tell me that.”

      He figured there was a lot Smith hadn’t told his sister. As long as Ivy didn’t ask about their prison time, Gideon didn’t mind answering some questions. Although he wouldn’t talk about the man he’d killed, or that he’d done so because of Eleanor’s lies.

      Ivy was quiet for a moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Where did you grow up?”

      “In Kansas.” His gaze traced her features, the ivory satin of her skin.

      “Did you live with anyone?” At his frown, she clarified. “Did you have a home?”

      “When I was ten, a widow lady, Ruby Whitten, took me in, but she passed away after about two years and I was on my own again.”

      “Then what did you do?”

      Though she appeared genuinely interested, the anxiety squeezing his chest didn’t ease. If she were going to ask more about his crime, he wished she would get on with it. “I hired on at a ranch.”

      “How old were you?”

      “Twelve, but I looked older.”

      “You were bigger than other boys your age.” Her gaze traced slowly over his shoulders and arms, making his body go tight.

      Want tugged low in his belly, and he knew by her sudden flush that she felt it, too. He cleared his throat, wishing she would step out of the circle of his legs. “Yes.”

      Damn, he wanted to touch her. He refocused his attention on the small animal in his hand. The poor thing weighed about as much as a baby bird.

      “Did you fight in the war?”

      “Didn’t everyone?” Even seven years gone, the thought made him tired.

      “Sure seemed that way.” Sadness pulled at her features as she stroked the pup’s head. “Did you work at another ranch after the war?”

      He nodded. Hiring on with Eleanor’s daddy had been the beginning of his journey to hell.

      If she was going to ask so many questions, Gideon had some, too. “Did your husband fight?”

      She stilled for a heartbeat. If he hadn’t been so close, he would’ve missed her reaction.

      “Yes, he did.”

      “Earlier, you said his family was from Chicago. How did the two of you meet?”

      “Before the war, he came to Mimosa Springs looking for land,” she said stiffly. “He wanted a place that wasn’t settled, so he looked farther east and decided on this area.”

      When her eyes hardened, Gideon knew it had to do with her past, not his. She stepped back. “Tomorrow, I’ll go to town and speak with the mayor about the dead horse.”

      That had sure been a quick change. Was it still too painful for Ivy to talk about her husband? The frantic tapping of her pulse in the hollow of her throat told Gideon the subject obviously vexed her.

      “I’ll see you at supper.” She turned and walked out the door.

      Gideon watched her go, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts. Whenever she was around, his brain seemed to engage a second too late. He was here to protect her, and that was all. Instead, he had an insane urge to hold her. To comfort her.

      Hell. Not getting drawn in by her was going to be more difficult than he’d thought.

      * * *

      Why had she told him anything about Tom? She didn’t like talking about her dead husband, ever.

      After breakfast the next morning, Ivy and Gideon set off for town. They had left the pup in her crate, inside the house. The wagon bumped along the rutted road now dried out from the rain. The wooden seat creaking, she stared blankly at the grass and trees they passed.

      She wanted to believe her guard had been down last night because of Tug, and maybe that was part of it, but she also knew it had to do with Gideon. For those moments in the barn watching him feed the pup, Ivy had been aware of only him.

      No man had ever looked at her like that, as if his next breath depended on her. Which explained why she’d had trouble falling asleep. That and the times she’d gone to the window, wondering if more of her animals were in danger, if someone was out there watching her house.

      She smoothed her navy-and-white-striped skirts, and settled her navy reticule in her lap.

      Maybe Gideon’s being here was good. Maybe a man of his size could discourage the low-down snake who was making trouble for her. Though she didn’t like the thought of needing a man for any reason, Ivy couldn’t deny that he’d been only help so far.

      Neither of them spoke much during the drive to Paladin. The scents of grass and dirt and clean air drifted around them. The occasional purple flower dotted the green alfalfa fields that spread as far as the eye could see on either side. Once, a redbird swooped over the wagon road.

      She was uncommonly aware of the man beside her. More aware than she’d been of any man since Tom’s death. As much as she tried, she couldn’t ignore the granite-hard line of his thigh against hers, the leashed power in his massive frame, the large callused hands that worked the reins so easily. Those same work-roughened hands had handled the pup as gently as she would have.

      She sneaked a glance at him. He smelled of leather and soap, and she could see a tuft of dark hair in the open V of his homespun work shirt.

      Ivy didn’t want to notice any of those things about Gideon Black, yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. Feeling suddenly hot, she fiddled with the button at the neck of her white bodice. She might be attracted to him, but the first time he showed his true colors—and he eventually would—her interest would fade.

      The day was clear and bright, and they arrived in Paladin before noon. Laid out in a quasi-horseshoe shape with the church at its apex, the small town was bustling as people made their way around town or across the wide main street. At the blacksmith’s shop attached to the back side of the livery, a hammer rang against metal.

      Besides the mercantile, smithy, bank and jail, Paladin now boasted a telegraph office, a gristmill, a hotel and a sawmill. Nearby, both Little River and Kiamichi River provided water for the town and surrounding farms. Tom wouldn’t have liked how the town had grown, how many people had moved here. She’d learned the hard way that wide-open space wasn’t the only reason he had wanted away from her family.

      She and Gideon braked the wagon in front of the livery and walked around the building. Just outside of town and a few yards away was Mayor Jumper’s lumber company. Behind the main office, saws whined and boards cracked; sawdust and wood chips shot into the air. Ivy felt more urgency to go to the bank for a loan to restock her horses and poultry, but she preferred to get her conversation with the mayor out of the way first. She didn’t look forward to telling Leo about his dead horse.

      She and Gideon stepped inside the lumber company’s small, neatly kept office. Outfitted with a standing desk as well as a small corner desk and chair along the back wall, the space was spotless. A couple of ledger books were stacked neatly across the top of the taller desk and just behind it squatted