A Cowboy's Heart. Liz Ireland

let her go and so arrogantly pronounced her to be in love with somebody else!

      How could Will possibly think she was in love with Trip Peabody! Not that Trip wasn’t perfectly nice—but have a romance with him? That idea sidled right up to the outrageous. Besides, the whole world south of the Red River knew Trip was in love with Tessie Hale. Will hadn’t been gone to Kansas so long that he should have forgotten that longstanding state of affairs.

      And did Will think she went around kissing just anybody? To her, it seemed that all the feelings she’d had stored up for Will all these long years had come rushing out during that kiss, almost as bold a declaration of her love as if she’d just told him so flat out. She could have held on to him forever. But Will hadn’t sensed her feelings for him. He hadn’t sensed anything at all, apparently.

      Trip sat back on his heels and took a long drink from his tin cup. “He didn’t look like he wanted company, Paulie.”

      She threw a glance to the tree under which Oat sat, snoozing. “Probably Will wanted some time to daydream about Mary Ann,” she said, trying not to let her sore feelings seep into her tone.

      “Probably,” Trip agreed. “Love requires a heap of brooding, I’ve found.”

      She had firsthand knowledge of that fact, too. “Only when it goes wrong, Trip. I dare say there are some romances out there that go off without a hitch.” Oh, how she wished she and Will could have one of those! Unfortunately, things had already turned so odd between them, she doubted they would ever have a normal relationship.

      Or any relationship. Not when he could kiss her without feeling anything more than he would if he were kissing a rock. And not while he was so obsessed by Mary Ann that he had to go tearing out at the strike of dawn by himself.

      “Well,” Trip said philosophically, “I guess it’s like my old daddy said. Anything worth havin’ is worth fightin’ for.”

      Paulie dropped the pot back on the fire and crossed her arms. “Your daddy said that when he was marching off to war in sixty-one, Trip. Brooding about Tessie Hale all day isn’t exactly the equivalent of a pitched battle.”

      “Maybe not, but it sure wears me out sometimes.”

      After her sleepless night, she could vouch personally for the exhaustion brought on by unrequited love. She poured herself another cup of coffee and drank down half a cup in one swig.

      “Ain’t you goin’ to eat anything, Paulie?”

      “I can’t eat,” she said, staring at the biscuit she’d been holding in her hand since she’d made the batch and feeling almost queasy at the thought of actually swallowing it. Lovesickness seemed to have caused her heart to swell overnight, forming a physical barrier between her mouth and her stomach.

      Trip shook his head, misinterpreting her digestive woe. “Whether you eat or not won’t make much difference whether we run into Night Bird.”

      At the sound of the dreaded name, Oat jolted into wakefulness. “Night Bird?” he said, his hand reaching for his gun. His rheumy eyes were wide with fear.

      “We were just talking, Oat,” Paulie assured the older man. Lord only knew what he would do if Night Bird ever did come riding over the hill.

      Lord only knew what any of them would do!

      “Then what’s that I hear comin’?”

      It wasn’t until Oat mentioned them that Paulie heard the hoofbeats thundering toward them. She scrambled for her rifle, as did Trip, who stood on wobbly legs, but with a cool head, watching. How could he be so calm? She wasn’t sure what was coming at them, but it didn’t sound good.

      Just as she was readying her gun for a battle, the rider crested the gentle hill in front of them. It was Will, riding as if Beelzebub himself were nipping at his heels. Paulie waited, looking to see what was following him, but nothing appeared to explain the crazed way he had galloped into their calm little camp.

      He brought his horse to a quick stop just a few feet away from them and quipped, “Thought I might need to wake you all up.”

      Paulie put her hands on her hips, half in anger, half to steady herself as she stared into his whiskey-colored eyes. Heavens, Will was a handsome man! Of course she’d known that already, but now she had the additional bonus of knowing how it felt to be in those strong arms of his. And with his dark hair wild from his ride, and his eyes shining as if lit from some internal fire, he was even better-looking than he’d seemed the night before, when he’d kissed her. She felt dizzy from the mere memory of it—light-headed and weightless.

      It was hard to keep her thoughts straight, being so close to him. She just couldn’t allow herself to think about that kiss, not right at the moment.

      “You’ve got a lot of nerve, riding in like that and scaring us half to death!”

      Will swung off his horse. “Good morning to you, too, Sprout.” He seemed to look right through her, as though he didn’t want to deal with her at all. Like last night had meant nothing to him!

      Well, he would soon find out she wasn’t so easy to ignore. “Do you realize we were poised to shoot whoever was coming? You could have got yourself killed just now!”

      He turned on her, eyes flashing. “If you can’t keep a cool head, you shouldn’t be here.”

      Her blood shot from hot to the boiling point in nothing flat. “You’re the one who’s been flying off the handle all the time, Mr. Hothead,” she said. She almost added that it was his jumping to fool conclusions about his lady love’s abduction that was leading them off on this crazy mission to begin with, but decided to refrain, for Oat’s sake.

      Will turned to her with a retort on his lips, but was cut off by Trip.

      “Any sign of Night Bird?”

      Will pivoted toward Trip—dismissing Paulie as easily as he would swat a bothersome gnat away. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

      “Where are we goin’ today?”

      “I thought we could head into Vinegaroon.”

      Paulie’s ire evaporated at the mention of that town. “Vinegaroon!” she cried. “There isn’t anything there but a saloon.”

      “You’ll be thirsty by the time we get there,” Will told her with a wry smile.

      The reply poised on the tip of Paulie’s tongue was interrupted by Oat, who was nodding in agreement with Will. “Roy Bean’ll know if Night Bird is crawling around.”

      “That’s what I’m counting on,” Will said.

      “Judge Bean, you mean!” Paulie had heard about Roy Bean, but had never met the man. He had a reputation for running a hell of a saloon, and, since being appointed judge, or appointing himself—no one was ever quite sure which—he’d also become known for doling out swift justice. She wasn’t sure she would like him. “I’ve heard of innocent men wandering into that place in the morning and ending the day swinging by a rope.”

      Will looked at her, really looked at her for the first time that morning, and she could have sworn there was laughter in those brown eyes. “Well maybe if you mind your manners and keep your mouth shut, we won’t have to waste time cutting you down at sunset.”

      Then he turned, missing by inches the hard biscuit that Paulie sent whizzing past his ear.

      If Trip wanted Paulie Johnson, he was welcome to her. And good luck to him!

      Will snorted to himself and spurred Ferdinand just a little faster, knowing that the others would keep up, no matter what. Paulie would die before she let out a whimper of complaint about their pace, or her hunger, which she was probably feeling keenly by now. The fool girl should be eating more food and throwing less of it. Trip said she hadn’t eaten a bite at breakfast. Probably just more evidence of her lovesickness, he thought, feeling a now familiar prick of unease at the thought of the pair of