The Outlaw's Bride. Catherine Palmer

tumbling down. Its mysterious, spicy scent would waft out into the air and—

      “There is my party, vaquero,” she said suddenly. “And your amigos, too. You see the fire?”

      Caught by surprise, Noah shook off his wayward thoughts. He had been on the trail with Chisum’s cattle many months. What else could be expected of a man who found his arms wrapped around a fine-smelling lady? He sent up a quick prayer to help him stay on task.

      Tunstall’s men were standing with the other travelers around the fire. There was Dick Brewer—Noah’s closest friend and Tunstall’s foreman—along with Billy Bonney and several others.

      “Miss Matas!” A young, spectacled gentleman hurried forward as Noah guided his horse into the clearing. “We’ve been worried. Thank you, sir. I’m sure Miss Matas’s family will reward you for saving her.”

      “Not necessary,” Noah said. “Glad to help.”

      “Oh, Isobel, are you all right?” A pale woman rushed to her side. “When we heard the shots, I was terrified for you!”

      Isobel’s expression softened. “I’m all right, Susan. I was walking in the forest.”

      “Did you see what happened, ma’am?” Dick asked her. “A man was shot and killed.”

      Noah dismounted and lifted his hands. Isobel slipped into his arms, but when her feet touched the ground, he set her aside. He had been distracted by the woman long enough.

      As Tunstall’s men gathered around, she lifted her chin. “The one called Rattlesnake shot first. Then Evans. The killers must be brought to justice.”

      “Yep, and you belong with your friends,” Noah spoke up. “Leave justice to these fellows.”

      “But, Noah,” Dick argued, “she’s a witness. She could help us. She could testify.”

      “Dolan’s men saw her,” Noah told them. “Snake swore he’d kill her. She needs to get out of the territory fast. Where are you headed, ma’am?”

      “To Lincoln Town,” she replied. “To speak with the sheriff.”

      “Someone murdered Isobel’s father here five years ago,” the pale woman, Susan, explained in a soft voice. “Isobel is determined to find out who did it.”

      Noah shook his head. “Bad idea. If you’re going to Lincoln, señorita, you can bet Snake will find you.”

      “If one of us could protect her,” Dick said, “we could use her testimony.”

      “How about you?” Noah suggested. “Your place isn’t far. She could lie low there until the trouble blows over.”

      Dick looked away, his gray eyes troubled. “Noah, they killed John. It’s not that I wouldn’t protect a woman, you know that. But I was Tunstall’s foreman and his friend. I’m going after them.”

      “We’re all going after them!” Billy Bonney stepped up. “C’mon, Buchanan, you can’t expect one of us to babysit the señorita. You’re not a Tunstall man, and Chisum’s in jail. Why don’t you take the job?”

      Noah held up a hand. “Not me, kid. I’ve got papers to deliver to Chisum and my own business to see to.”

      “But you told us John Chisum ain’t gonna sell you no land unless you can prove you’re willing to settle down and knock off that reputation you carry around. Now, say you come along with this pretty señorita—hey, what say you marry her? Chisum would sell you the land quick if you did that. You know how sentimental he is about families.”

      “Marry her?” Noah felt the blood siphon from his face. “Billy Bonney, you’re a fool. There’s no way—”

      “Can you be serious?” Isobel interrupted. “Never would I marry this…this dusty vaquero! I am betrothed to Don Guillermo Pascal of Santa Fe. Nor do I need a protector. I am a better marksman than most of the men in Catalonia and I ride like the wind. I shall go with you on this journey of revenge.”

      “You can’t come with us,” Billy exclaimed, eyeing Isobel as if she were possessed. “The men who killed our boss have the law on their side. And the law in Lincoln County is as crooked as this trail. You’d best get on up to Santa Fe and marry your rich muchacho.”

      “Not until I find my father’s murderer.”

      “Isobel,” Susan broke in, “please consider what these men are saying. The murderers have threatened to kill you, and you have no protectors. Why not take on Mr.—”

      “Buchanan,” Billy put in. “His name is Noah Buchanan.”

      Lest the conversation erupt into a shouting match, Isobel had agreed to walk a short distance from the men to discuss the situation with Susan.

      “Isobel,” her friend said softly. “Can you trust me?”

      Nodding, Isobel acknowledged the truth. Though she had not planned to get close to the others on the journey, they had won her friendship after all.

      “This is a lawless land,” Susan said. “If you insist on finding your father’s killer and getting your inheritance back, you must have protection. I know you ride and shoot well, but you’ll never survive against fifty armed men. If you won’t go to Santa Fe and get married like you should, let Mr. Buchanan watch over you.”

      Isobel glanced at the huddled group of men. Billy Bonney and Dick Brewer clearly were exhorting Noah to action. “Don Guillermo may not accept me now, anyway,” she murmured, finally admitting aloud her fear. “Without my dowry, I cannot push for marriage. By law he should marry me, but his family is powerful.”

      “Then you must get your rightful land. And to do that, you must let Mr. Buchanan look after you.”

      Isobel knew it was the right decision—the only possible conclusion. She gave her friend a quick hug and hurried across the slushy snow to the men.

      “Very well, Señor Buchanan,” she informed him. “If you agree to protect me, I shall bear witness to the authorities about the murder.”

      “Sure, I’ll take you on,” Noah said. “If you’ll marry me.”

      She gasped. “Marry you? Borrachón! What have you been drinking?”

      “Not a thing.” He studied her for a moment, then gave a nod. “We’ll get the preacher over there to hitch us up. I’ll tell folks you’re the wife I brought in from the trail. That’s true enough.”

      She stared at the blue-eyed man. “But I am already engaged.”

      “And the last thing I want is to get married.” He glanced at Dr. Ealy, a missionary who was standing quietly in the background. “We’ll get it annulled later. Extreme circumstances…marriage without parents’ consent…lack of consummation…we’ll think of something. Once I convince Chisum to sell me the land I’ve been after and you settle your business in Lincoln, you can go to Santa Fe and marry your don. Meantime, I won’t lay a hand on you.”

      “Whoa, Buchanan!” Billy laughed. “Don’t get carried away.”

      “Naw, kid. It’ll all be on the up-and-up.”

      Again Isobel assessed the bearded, brawny trail boss. Did she really need his protection? Probably. Her father had been murdered despite his armed guard.

      Could she delay marrying Don Guillermo? Certainly. Her fiancé had never even responded to her letter of intent to journey to America.

      Retrieving the stolen land-grant titles was her primary goal. More than anything, she ached to possess those rich pastures on which to graze cattle of her own.

      “Very well, Mr. Buchanan,” she declared. “If you will protect me while I search for my father’s killer and recover my family’s stolen land, I shall marry you and prove to Mr. Chisum that you are very settled. And I shall