The Gunslinger's Untamed Bride. Stacey Kayne

rather not,” he said.

      Juniper gave a nod, figuring he’d bide his time. “Think I’ll stop in and see Emma.”

      “That’s a real fine idea,” Frank agreed, telling Juniper that Calvin had indeed gone to see his sister, Widow Donnelly.

      “I appreciate your cooperation, Frank.”

      Cooperation? Lily gaped up at the supposed sheriff, unable to believe he’d forgo further questioning simply because the man preferred not to answer. Mr. Dobbs had been killed. Juniper should be demanding answers!

      “Where’s Deputy Griggs?” he asked.

      “He rode out this morning,” said Frank, his gaze moving slowly over Lily. “Said he’d received a wire from a U.S. marshal looking to bring in that highwayman who robbed the stage last month.”

      “Let’s hope this marshal can stick around,” said Juniper. “This is Miss Palmer and her cousin Reginald.”

      “Good day,” greeted Reginald.

      Lily simply stared up at Juniper, his choice of title having caught her off guard. It had been years since anyone had referred to her as Miss Palmer.

      “Miss Palmer,” said Frank, “I sure hope they didn’t hurt you none.”

      Realizing Frank was staring at her dress, she glanced down and was reminded of her tattered state. “I appreciate your concern.”

      Juniper’s long arm curved around her shoulders. “She’s a little the worse for wear, but otherwise fine. We’ll be back shortly for those horses.” He wheeled her around, giving her no choice but to follow his lead or be muscled off the ground.

      “I’ll wait here,” Reginald offered, slumping onto a crate outside the wide double doors of the stable. He swabbed a silk handkerchief over his sweaty brow.

      Juniper glanced back at Frank and tipped his head toward Reginald, as though silently asking the livery man to keep an eye on him. Frank gave a nod before Juniper started down the street, his hold on her shoulders forcing her to keep up with his long strides.

      “Mr. Barns—”

      “Sheriff Barns,” he corrected, the irritation in his gaze suggesting he’d noticed her refusal to use the title. As far as she was concerned, he was no longer the sheriff of Pine Ridge.

      “I’d like to know how you intend to catch up with those men much less recover my cash box when you allow your questions to go unanswered.”

      “All in good time,” he said, an easy grin sliding across his lips.

      She shrugged off the weight of his arm. “You are wasting time. You’re intentionally allowing them to get farther away.”

      He tucked her right back against his side as they turned a corner. “If Frank had anything other than a general direction to give me, he’d have said so. Don’t suppose you noticed the local blacksmith had his shop locked up tight when we rode through town?”

      No, she hadn’t. Nor had he offered any insight to his plans or observations!

      “If that lock box was opened,” he continued, “I truly doubt Calvin would have left without giving a cut to his sister. With any luck, Emma will know where they were headed, and we’ll start rounding up any prematurely distributed payroll.”

      “Prematurely distributed? You say that as though no crimes have been committed!”

      “If no crimes had been committed,” he said, his tone low and biting, “you’d already be up at camp packing your gear. You have no idea how badly this community needs that payroll. Do you really think I’d allow them to steal from the citizens I’ve sworn to protect?”

      Judging by the reactions of the townspeople to Juniper’s arrival, they were terrified of him. His barbaric treatment of her thus far confirmed his use of tyranny and intimidation.

      “Must you drag me along as though I’m your captive?”

      “Like the rest of these citizens, you’re under my protection.”

      She stopped beside a yard with a white picket fence and pulled away from him. “I do believe I fired you, Mr. Barns. I prefer to seek the assistance of another sheriff.”

      His slow smile nettled at her frayed nerves.

      “Sorry, darlin’, you’re stuck with me. I don’t work for you down here. You’re in my territory now. Down here I am the law.”

      A manipulator of the law was more like it. A common outlaw posing as a sheriff. Utter madness.

      He turned away from her and walked through the open gate of the picket fence, heading for the tiny white house at the center of a small yard.

      “Where are you going?”

      “Exactly where I said I’d be going. To see Emma Donnelly.”

      He shuffled up the steps and rapped on the door, forcing Lily to hurry after him or stand in the street like a vagabond. The door opened as she reached his side.

      A tall and rather attractive woman greeted them, her dark eyes flaring wide at the sight of Juniper. Looking up at Mrs. Donnelly’s sweeping honey-wheat hair tucked into a neat bun and her modest black dress, Lily became startlingly aware of her own tattered appearance. Her hair trailed down her back in a mass of tangles, the torn waistcoat revealing her white chemise and a flash of pale skin.

      Mrs. Donnelly glanced cautiously at Lily before looking back at Juniper. “Sheriff Barns,” she said, her smile clearly forced. “It’s … good to see you.”

      “Hello, Emma,” Juniper said, smiling gently.

      The flutter in Lily’s stomach made her wonder if he intended to charm the information out of the pretty widow.

      “I’m afraid this isn’t a good time,” she said. “I’m in the middle of preparing supper and have the baby to feed soon, so if—”

      “I won’t stay long,” he said, sliding a boot over the threshold. “We had a problem on the mountain today.”

      The frown already pressing into her brow deepened. “Oh?”

      “Mrs. Donnelly?” Lily said, budging Juniper’s shoulder out of her way. “I’m—”

      “This is Miss Lily Palmer,” Juniper interrupted, all but scooping her into the tiny house as he stepped inside. “She’s with the reform committee and is here to help straighten out the back wages.”

      A partial truth, she thought. Her gaze landed on a rug at the center of the room. Multicolored braided rags made into coils created a large oval on the wood floor. Very similar to a rug her own mother had owned. Beyond the few furnishings in the front room, four wide-eyed children sat motionless at a kitchen table covered with flour, pie plates and other baking dishes. The sight put an ache in her chest, reminding her of a warm kitchen, conversation, her mother’s laughter.

      A boy around the age of nine or ten held a potato and a paring knife. His three sisters appeared to be between the ages of seven and three, the youngest with a smudge of flour on her chin and nose.

      “Hi, Juniper,” chirped the little flour-smudged girl. She beamed a bright smile at him.

      Lily glanced at the man beside her, failing to see the benefit of hiding her true identity from this woman and her children.

      “Hello, Calley,” he said. “I see you’re all helping your mama with supper.”

      The girls smiled. Their older brother remained stiff and stoic, his concerned gaze moving between Lily and his mother.

      “Who wants a peppermint stick?” Juniper asked, holding up a coin.

      “I do!” the girls shouted in unison. All three abandoned