Oklahoma Wedding Bells. Carol Finch

ground.” Her accusing gaze settled on Rooster.

      The animal tossed his head proudly and ignored her.

      Josie flashed a blinding smile that would have knocked Sol’s knees out from under him if he’d been standing. Her face came alive and her radiant expression nearly stole his breath. He glanced at Grant to see if he had experienced the same stunned reaction, but the commander’s focus was trained on the attractive brunette.

      “I’m perfectly fine, as you can see,” Josie assured her friend. “You’re okay, too, I hope.”

      Muriel nodded reassuringly. “I finally regained control of my mare while she sloshed through the shallows in the river. But I was so worried about you that I headed straight for the garrison for assistance.” She angled her head toward Holbrook. “Thankfully, I didn’t have to ride very far before we crossed paths south of the fort.”

      No doubt Grant had been on his way to their rendezvous site at Shallow Springs, Sol mused.

      “I asked the commander for permission to cross the border to ensure your safety,” Muriel added. “He came along in case you were injured and I needed help transporting you to camp.”

      Sol scrutinized the two women closely. Especially Josie. It seemed that Muriel had answered an unspoken question, because her friend relaxed in the saddle. Whatever passed between the two women was meant to exclude Sol and Grant.

      Here was yet another example of a puzzling reaction Sol didn’t understand. But then, he had spent considerably more time with men than women, so he couldn’t read their behavior quite as easily.

      “I had no intention of crossing the boundary line,” Josie assured Grant. “But the gunshots in camp frightened Rooster, and away he went without a care about what’s off-limits and what’s not.”

      “A rabbit bounding out of the grass and hopping across the prairie would set off Rooster,” Sol commented as he stared at the horse, which refused to stand still. If it was possible for a stallion to strut, Rooster could pull it off, he decided. “Give me two days with that cantankerous animal so I can teach him discipline.”

      Josie rolled her eyes, then glanced at her friend. “Muriel, this is Solomon Tremain.”

      She smiled cordially. “You’re the horse trader. I remember seeing you in town. And this is Captain—”

      “We’ve met,” Grant interrupted. “I checked Tremain’s special license this morning. He’s legal, but he’s making a killing off his livestock.”

      “The horses aren’t stolen, are they?” Josie asked, so innocently that Sol knew instantly that she was up to no good. “Heavens, I’d hate to think the man who saved me from fatal disaster was a thief.”

      Sol managed to maintain his trademark deadpan expression, but he inwardly fumed when Josie batted her eyes at him. What the hell was she doing? Fifteen minutes ago, she’d bitten his head off and insisted she didn’t need rescuing. Now she was hailing him as a hero for saving her. He was beginning to think there were two women housed in that luscious body of hers—a witch and an angel—and you could never know which one would show up at any given moment. She sure as hell had him buffaloed.

      “I’m not a thief,” Sol insisted, while Muriel stared at him and Grant bit back a wry smile. “I’m half Cheyenne, and my people are offering their well-trained herds of horses for sale to the invading whites. We might as well make money off this outrageous theft of our land. Not to mention another peace treaty broken by the white government.”

      Sol shut his mouth so fast he nearly bit off the end of his tongue. Why had he blurted that out? He waited for Josie’s and Muriel’s reactions to his mixed heritage, and told himself he didn’t care what they thought.

      To his surprise, neither woman recoiled in repulsion, just stared at him for a few moments before nodding in acceptance of his announcement.

      “That explains it,” Josie said eventually.

      “Explains what?” Sol demanded, a little too defensively.

      She grinned at him, which made him nervous, because he couldn’t figure her out … and it aggravated him that he wanted to be able to.

      “That’s why you dislike me,” she continued, still smiling. “You resent my intrusion on Cheyenne-Arapaho land, and you’re also taking your dislike out on my horse.”

      Sol snorted. “I find fault with that stallion because he is a disaster waiting to happen. Do yourself a favor and buy one of my horses. You’ll be safe instead of risking your neck on that unpredictable misfit.”

      “You two will have to continue your debate elsewhere,” Grant interjected. “You are on the wrong side of the boundary line and I have a meeting to attend.” He glanced at Muriel. “Can you and your friend return to camp without an escort?”

      “We’ll be fine,” she assured him crisply. “I already told you that in most instances we are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.”

      “But you should ignore the gunshots you’ll hear coming from camp when we return,” Josie suggested flippantly. “I plan to shoot the men who fired their pistols, spooked our horses and sent them racing out of control. I expect Muriel will stab those inconsiderate hooligans with her knife a few times for good measure, too.”

      Grant glanced at Sol after the women trotted off, with Rooster still tossing his head. “She’s kidding, right?”

      How was he supposed to know? Sol couldn’t figure Josie out. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He frowned when he noticed Grant was watching Muriel intently. “I thought you didn’t like the brunette.”

      The commander swung his head toward Sol. “I don’t. Personally, I think she delights in all that male attention, despite her claim that she isn’t interested in accepting a marriage proposal before the race for land.”

      “Why do you care one way or the other?”

      “Didn’t say I did,” Grant muttered defensively.

      Sol let the matter drop, since the man appeared to be highly sensitive about the brunette, regardless of his insistence to the contrary.

      “Did you find out anything about the gunslingers we spotted in town?” he asked as he led the way to their secluded rendezvous site near Shallow Springs.

      Grant nodded soberly. “The gunmen met up with a Texas rancher named Carlton Bradley at the Oasis, a local brothel. Later, I saw Bradley chatting with several hopeful settlers at one of the tent communities while I was making my rounds.”

      “Which camp?” Sol questioned as he walked Outlaw into a copse of willows near the rippling springs.

      “I think he’s camped just north of the one where Josie and Muriel are staying.”

      Sol nodded pensively. “I need to find out what Bradley and his small army are up to. Robbery, maybe. He might be trying to familiarize himself with the settlers’ routines. There are a lot of people about, carrying their life savings to make improvements on the land—if they manage to stake a claim without getting killed during the race.”

      “I talked to Sam Colby, the city marshal, this afternoon,” Grant commented. “He mentioned that robberies were occurring with alarming regularity. Bradley and his thugs might be stealing all the money they can get their hands on before hightailing it back to Texas.”

      “The same sort of things happened in the two previous land runs,” Sol reported, then frowned curiously. “What does this Bradley character look like?”

      “He’s about your height, with reddish-brown hair, a false smile, gray eyes and a square face.” Grant rattled the description off. “I think he is as fond of females as he is of money. I see him flirting constantly with married and single women alike.”

      “Maybe we should sic Josie on him,” Sol said drily. “I just met