A Cowboy's Heart. Liz Ireland

“Are you goin’ too, Paulie?”

      She nodded.

      Trip looked from Paulie to Oat. “Then it looks like I’m settin’ out again.”

      “No, you can’t,” Paulie insisted “Who’ll mind the bar?”

      “Heck, Paulie, I’m your best customer,” Trip argued. “Besides, you don’t have anything to sell.”

      Will let out an impatient sigh. “This is beginning to look like a posse.”

      Well, he thought, trying to keep his spirits up by turning to more practical matters, if he was going to search for Mary Ann and Night Bird, posses weren’t actually such a bad idea. After all, there was safety in numbers—even when that number included a cranky geezer, a switch of a girl, and a man who couldn’t stay upright.

      Chapter Three

      Paulie whistled four notes of “Oh! Susanna,” keeping her eye on Will’s ramrod-straight back. For the past four hours he’d been riding ahead of them, and was wound tighter than a pocket watch. Though so far their journey had been completely uneventful, Will was ever-alert, tense. She was just waiting for some part of him to snap.

      “‘I Gave My Gal a Penny Candy!’” Trip guessed.

      Paulie sent him a sidelong glance. “Honestly, Trip, you’ve got a tin ear.”

      He looked offended. “It’s you that’s got a tin whistle.”

      She whistled again, this time five notes. Their old game cut down on the endless monotony of the day-long ride, but every once in a while she thought she caught Will glancing back at them, annoyed.

      He looked close to madness already, in Paulie’s opinion. “Land’s sake, Will, don’t get your dander up. It’s just a song.”

      “Well, it’s a damned irritating one.”

      They stopped long enough for Oat to catch up with them. For the past few miles he had been trailing farther and farther behind. Paulie had begun to wonder whether the old man might be hoping that they would leave him so far in their dust that they would forget about him entirely and he could then go back to his safe house and warm his old toes by a fire.

      Right now, he just looked startled to find the three of them huddled together. “Night Bird?” he asked anxiously, trying to guess the reason for the holdup.

      “No,” Trip answered. “Just ‘Oh! Susanna.”’

      Will’s exasperation was bumped up another notch. “We need to be concentrating on the landscape—not some damned song. Now let’s get going.” He whirled and spurred his horse into a canter.

      Paulie exchanged glances with Trip and blew out a breath impatiently as Will rode ahead of them once again.

      “I wonder what’s eatin’ him,” Trip said.

      As if anyone had to guess! Paulie felt angry just thinking about how torn up inside Will must be over Mary Ann’s disappearance. Frankly in her opinion, Mary Ann just wasn’t worth all this fuss. She still had her doubts about Mary Ann’s being spirited off by Night Bird. It didn’t make sense. For one thing, they said Mary Ann had always been scared of being abducted by Night Bird, and in Paulie’s experience, the thing you’re afraid of happening hardly ever does. It’s the things you didn’t expect that sneaked up and changed your life for good.

      She kicked her horse into a gallop. In no time at all, she raced up alongside Will and skidded her little bay gelding, Partner, to a quick stop.

      Will didn’t appear glad for the company. “Don’t you ever stay quiet?” he asked.

      Paulie tried not to take the remark to heart. In better days, Will had always seemed to enjoy jawing with her. “Don’t you ever plan on acting civil again?” she shot back. “I swear, you roam around for months at a time, clear off to Kansas, then you ride back in and start barking orders at us like you’re paying us money to take them.”

      Her tart response brought a sheepish shrug.

      “Maybe I do stay away too long,” he said. “I know I did this time. But I’m back now, and I’ve decided to settle down.”

      Paulie didn’t know if she felt like dancing or weeping. It all depended on where Will planned on setting himself up. “You thinking of staying in Possum Trot?”

      “Probably not.”

      “Well then, where?”

      “That depends on Mary Ann.”

      For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. What was he talking about? He didn’t look at her as if he’d said anything odd; he wasn’t looking at her at all, in fact. Just staring straight ahead, his expression faraway yet strangely determined.

      “Mary Ann!” Paulie cried. “Have you gone crazy, Will?”

      His face remained stony. “Nope.”

      “She’s married, Will!”

      “Oat doesn’t love Mary Ann.”

      “Oat, Mary Ann’s husband, is riding just in back of us, in case you’ve forgotten.”

      “He didn’t want to come,” Will insisted.

      “But he did.”

      “He had to talk himself into it.”

      Paulie rolled her eyes. “So would anybody with any sense, Will! It’s because we’re going after a killer.”

      “A killer who has Mary Ann. His wife.” He turned his dark eyes on Paulie, his expression softening. “You were more resolute than that old toothless husband of hers, Paulie.”

      “That’s because—” She was about to say, because I was so worried about you. But she couldn’t. She’d already lied and told him that she was only coming along because she and Mary Ann were friends. And he’d believed her! Which just proved that something in the man’s mind had shook loose.

      “Because you care about Mary Ann,” he finished for her. “You see? That proves my point. Oat doesn’t care about his wife even as much as her friends do.”

      “Oh, Will, you can’t be sure of that.” Although she felt fairly certain that Oat wasn’t a head-over-heels newlywed, she hated to see Will eating his heart out over a woman who didn’t deserve him. And even more to the point, who wasn’t even available.

      And, she admitted to herself shamefully, who wasn’t herself.

      “You heard him talking, Paulie. He said he just lost her—the way a man would talk of misplacing his fountain pen. And it was almost as if he was hoping that she was lost.”

      Paulie had sensed the same thing. But she hated to think it. Because if Oat gave up on Mary Ann... Oh, it was selfish of her to want Will for herself—not to mention hopeless—but she couldn’t help it. As long as Oat was married to Mary Ann, Paulie at least stood a tiny chance of making Will appreciate her. “He’s married to her, Will.”

      “Marriages don’t always last,” he said tersely.

      Paulie couldn’t believe her ears. “Will, you’re talking crazy!” She’d thought all along that he looked half-crazy, but even so she’d had no idea that thoughts like these had been running through his head. And as he spoke, it didn’t even seem as if he wanted to wed Mary Ann; instead, it was almost as if it were something he had to do.

      He shot her a look that had a hint of desperation in it. “You can’t imagine what I feel, Paulie.”

      If only he knew! Maybe she would never work up the nerve to tell him about her own experience with unrequited love, but she could keep him from hatching these unrealistic plans.

      “You know what your trouble is?” she asked him.

      “No,