Jake's Angel. Nicole Foster

Coulter…Jake—”

      The sound of a downstairs door slamming and a clatter of footsteps up the stairs stopped whatever Isabel intended to say.

      There was a scuffling noise outside Jake’s door, and a flurry of whispering before Nate poked his head inside. He darted a quick curious glance at Jake, then looked at Isabel, his face suspiciously innocent.

      “We wanted to know if we could have jam tarts. Nana made them, but she’s visiting Mrs. Parker, and well…we thought we’d ask.”

      “Did you now?” Isabel shook her head, unable to hide her smile. “It sounds to me as if you needed a reason to come upstairs and meet our new guest.”

      “It was Nate’s idea,” Matt piped up behind him. “He wanted to see the gunfighter.” He peeked around the corner, wide-eyed. “But we would like jam tarts, too.”

      “Ah, I see. Matt, Nate…” She took their hands and led them just inside the room. “This is Mr. Coulter. He’s not a gunfighter,” she said, praying she didn’t lie, “and he’s going to be staying with us until his leg is healed. He’s not feeling very well, so he won’t be up to having any visitors for a while. Now go downstairs to the kitchen. I’ll be along in a minute and I’ll help you eat those jam tarts Nana left for you.”

      Before Jake could respond, Isabel shooed her sons out the door and the boys scampered off, clattering noisily down the stairs. “You didn’t tell me I was contagious,” he said, watching after them.

      “They’re very impressionable,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze. She quickly gathered up her supplies and put them back on the tray. “They’ve already decided you’re a dangerous outlaw and that you can tell them all sorts of exciting stories about gunfights and stolen gold. I don’t want to encourage them.”

      “I don’t know any stories about stolen gold.”

      “At least you don’t deny the gunfights.”

      “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

      “No, I wouldn’t. Unless you want to confess you shot yourself in the leg.” Returning to his bedside, Isabel handed him a cup. “Drink this. It will help the pain.”

      Jake sniffed warily at it, not liking the smell or the look of the pale-green liquid. “By the time you’re through with me, I’ll have tried every weed in the territory. Whiskey would be kinder.”

      “Not to your head.” She waited until he’d downed the herbal brew, then gently pushed him back on the pillows. Her fingers brushed his forehead, pushing aside a heavy dark wave of hair that stubbornly refused to stay aside. “No fever. I think you’ll do, Mr. Coulter. A week or so and you’ll be up and around again.”

      Her fingers lingered for a moment on his skin and Jake captured them with his own, absently rubbing her hand, enjoying the smooth feel of her. “Is that a promise, ma’am, or a threat to throw me out then?” he asked, his voice low and dark, teasing her.

      “Perhaps both,” Isabel said, freeing her hand from his disturbing touch. “I must go. The boys will be waiting, and you need to rest. I’ll be back in a few hours with supper.”

      Jake stared after her, wondering what had caused the crack in her cool facade, and why he found it so pleasing to know he’d played a part in it.

      Isabel had just finished cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, and was getting ready to make certain the boys had fed and watered all their animal boarders for the night when a loud rapping sounded at the front door. Pushing her hands down her skirts to dry them, she hurried to answer it.

      “Cal,” she said, opening the door to a tall, squarely built man holding a battered hat between his hands. “What brings you here this time of day?”

      Isabel forced herself to sound casual, but she’d known Calvin Reed all her life, even before he’d taken over as sheriff in Whispering Creek, and knew he wouldn’t be stopping by twice in two days simply to chat. She remembered her grandmother’s talk about Jerico Grey and wondered just how much of it had been rumor.

      “Wearin’ out my welcome, am I, Belle?” Cal asked.

      Isabel smiled a little over the familiar nickname, one only Cal used. He’d taken to calling her that ever since she was a little girl and Calvin Reed had been a young deputy, paying court to her mama after her papa had abandoned them.

      “Of course not,” she said, leading him inside with a hand on his arm. “Come inside and I’ll get you some coffee.”

      Cal ran a hand over his graying hair. The lines in his face seemed deeper, and his eyes sober, telling Isabel more than any words he was worried over something.

      “I hate to turn it down, but I’d best get my business out of the way first. I need to speak to your new boarder, if he’s in any shape to have a conversation. Elish tells me you slipped him one of your fine elixirs to get him out of the Silver Rose this mornin’.”

      “He’s well enough to talk to you.” Isabel hesitated, then started, “Cal…”

      “Now don’t you worry, honey. I just want to see what his business here is. With this recent string of robberies at the mines around here, I can’t be too careful.”

      “Do you think…” Isabel stopped, not certain if she wanted to put her fears into words. But it would be better to know. “Is it Jerico?”

      “Now Belle—”

      “Is it? He did it before. He was robbing camps all over these mountains before he fled the territory.”

      “Don’t you worry, now. I know you were sweet on him once. Don’t bother to tell me it’s not true,” he said, holding up a hand to ward off her protest.

      “I was a girl, in love with the idea of loving a dangerous man. You can trust my illusions about Jerico faded quickly. If you’re thinking he’d come back to Whispering Creek for me, you’re mistaken.”

      “You’re probably right. I suspect his reasons for headin’ this way have more to do with him havin’ the law on his tail in Texas.”

      Isabel saw a shadow of doubt in Cal’s eyes and put her hand on his arm, looking straight at him. “If I knew anything, I would tell you. The thought of Jerico coming back here, after all these years—” She shook her head, trying to rid herself of her uneasiness. “I seem to have a knack for attracting the wrong kind of man,” she said with a small smile.

      “Like your new boarder? Well, now, he’s probably just what he appears to be, one of them thorns in a sheriff’s side whose luck’s run a little muddy. I’ll have a talk with him, but I doubt he’s too dangerous.”

      “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Isabel said more to herself than Cal as she turned and led him up the staircase, to the loft.

      She knocked once at Jake’s door then opened it halfway and looked inside. Slouched in the rocker he’d shoved next to the window, he was looking out at the deepening evening, a slight frown tensing his face. He’d pulled on a man’s robe he’d found draped over the bed, loosely tying it at the waist.

      He turned slightly when he heard Isabel step into the room, and then looked back to the window with a view of the rear garden. “Back again with your weeds so soon?”

      “No,” Isabel said, watching him carefully for his reaction. “You have a visitor. Sheriff Reed wants to meet you.”

      “Yeah, I’ll just bet he does,” Jake drawled.

      He shifted to look at Cal and surprised Isabel by grinning. “I suppose you’ve decided I’m responsible for robbing every mining office between here and the Texas Panhandle.” Rubbing a hand through his hair, he gave a wry shrug. “Can’t say that I blame you.”

      “Then maybe you can tell me why you are here in Whispering Creek, and we can get this settled and