She was in some cabin in Stinking Creek, Montana, that awful mining town, all of which could use a good washing.
She summoned the strength to toss the odoriferous blanket off her. She wished she knew how she'd gotten into this bed and who had placed her here.
"Golda?" she whispered into the darkness.
A man's single snore answered.
Well, Golda did not snore, so whoever it was sleeping over there in the darkness could not be her. That meant . . . yikes. She was alone in a cabin with a strange man. Was Golda missing? Or was she unconscious?
Garnet feared for her baby sister, the girl she'd practically raised since their mother's illness and then death. Garnet was a woman who took her responsibilities seriously. "Golda?"
Another low nasal snore.
She remembered a demon-man dashing out of a small grove of trees, but that was all. Panic pulsed through her chest. She had to calm herself. She had to think rationally. She'd learned in her twenty-six years of living that there was always a logical solution to any problem, great or small, if only one took the time to think about it.
Well, if her captor was sleeping so soundly, there was only one thing to do. Escape.
The bed ropes creaked when she shifted her weight. Garnet froze, waiting, but the snoring continued. Relief washed over her. She hadn't awakened her captor, so she dared to stand. A light-headed buzz fluttered through her head, but she fought it. A little dizziness wasn't going to stop her.
White-hot pain speared through her thigh each time she put weight on it. Garnet drew in a slow, steady stream of air, refusing to give up. She hadn't failed at anything before this, and she hadn't come all this way to Montana Territory to lose her freedom and her sister all in one night. What was a little pain when compared with one's life?
A gray light crept through the cracks around the door, guiding her way, and luckily the door was unlatched. It whispered open on leather straps, opening to the sounds of the night. Crickets and owls and wind. Freedom beckoned to her and, grateful her captor was a heavy sleeper, she took a step. The wood creaked beneath her feet as she limped across the threshold.
Stars peeked between scattering clouds, casting some light upon the earth. She could make out the line of majestic trees and the thin ribbon of the road. The snoring behind her continued, and, assured of her chances, she hobbled down the worn path.
"Going somewhere?" A man's mocking voice cut through the night.
Garnet's heart pounded with the fury of a chugging steam engine. It couldn't be. Her captor was snoring up a storm back in the cabin. She twisted around when she heard footsteps, just a couple, light and nearly weightless upon the earth.
Sweet heavens! The man stalking toward her was the same one who'd dashed out of the woods with a gun. Now she remembered there had been two men, one mounted on a big dark horse, another dashing out of the woods with a blazing gun.
"Where's my sister? What have you done with her?"
His silence infuriated her. "She's a mere child. Not even sixteen years old. If you've harmed her, I swear I'll . . . I'll . . . well, I don't know what I'll do, but I will make you pay."
He strode closer with the physical prowess of a hunting wolf. "A bullet might stop most men, but not you, I see."
"I'm tougher than I look," Garnet challenged, but the fine hairs at the base of her neck prickled. She heard nothing, no soft footfalls in the inches-thick dust, no whisper of clothing . . . but he advanced on her anyway. Powerful. Dangerous. Captivating.
She'd never seen a man with such broad shoulders. Not that she made it a habit to look at different anatomical parts of men's bodies. Heavens, she was a proper sort of woman and a schoolteacher to boot, but this man . . . why, he made her stomach flutter.
Ah, don't go dreaming again
, Garnet reminded herself. No man thought she was worth a second look. She knew she was no beauty; certainly she'd heard that often enough back home, where all the broad-shouldered men crossed the street to avoid her and even the pasty, greasy-haired men ran in the opposite direction.
Their indifference hurt, but she'd gotten used to it. Men liked females who were pretty and simpering, things she could never be, no matter how hard she tried.
But Golda was and she needed protecting. And no fine pair of male shoulders should distract Garnet from her responsibilities. "Answer me. What did you do with my sister?"
"She ran for cover when you were shot. I haven't seen her."
"You just left her alone in the–"
"You were injured. You still are." His words whispered along the back of her neck. "I did go back to look for her."
"Did you find–"
"Just tracks." Low and deep, that voice. He towered over her, a powerful flesh-and-blood man, his shoulders wide and his feet planted firmly. "I went through your valises. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, what kind of woman would be wandering around in this town at night."
"You violated my privacy? You–"
"You were trespassing on my land." He had a rude habit of interrupting. With his hands braced on his narrow hips, he strolled around her and into the sweep of starlight. He was dressed simply, like all miners. He wore Levi's and a cotton shirt stretched over a muscle-hewn chest. "For all I knew, you were a danger to me with a loaded gun hidden in your satchel."
"Sorry," she breathed, "but I was–"
"Looking for Eugene, I know." He no longer looked threatening, but that dangerous handsome quality cloaked him like the night shadows. "You're the old maid who's come to fetch him home."
Garnet had never met this kind of man before, so powerful he took her breath away. He looked like the sort of man a sensible woman should never trust. Besides, he was far too busy looking at the sky, the trees, the grounds, the cabin. At everything but her. A common habit with men, for she wasn't pretty.
Even a low-life, devastatingly handsome outlaw didn't find her attractive.
Heart aching, she stared hard at the ground. "Do you know where my pa is? We've been so long in responding to Mr. Tanner's letter, he could be dead by now or–"
"I'm still taking care of him."
Garnet shivered, her gaze drifting upward. She couldn't help it. There was no mistaking the steel strength of the man. It rang in his voice and burned in his dark eyes. "Then where is Mr. Tanner?"
"I'm Wyatt Tanner."
"
You
?" This dangerous loner who looked more powerful than a bear? This was the man caring for Pa?
She was doomed.
"Surprised, huh?" Wyatt struck a match to light a cigar. A small tongue of flame chased away the dark then faded. He watched her step back from his presence hiding her mouth behind one hand. So prim and proper. Just the sort of woman he'd never understood, never felt comfortable around.
He puffed on his cigar, breathed deep, savored the smoke. Women. He'd never developed a good opinion of the creatures during his lifetime. The West wasn't populated by all that many civilized women, but the few he'd seen over the years were enough to give him indigestion Or break his heart.
Truth was, he hadn't expected old Eugene's daughter to show up at all. No sensible woman would make such a dangerous journey across uncivilized land just to rescue an old cheater of a father who didn't seem to miss his family one bit.
Still, it spoke well for the woman. Garnet Jones had more courage and loyalty than most he'd met.
"There's a stage leaving tomorrow. There will be another one in a week, if we're lucky."
"What do you mean?"
"The first snows could hit these mountains at any time. You could be stranded here." She was shot, and the old man wasn't strong enough to travel. But they had to leave tomorrow, no matter what.
The last thing he needed was more bodies crowding his cabin, crowding his life. He had a job to do. And a past he didn't want to face.
"I'm not about to spend the winter in a tiny cabin with an old man and his maiden daughters." He tried to sound kind. "You won't like it. I won't like it. I want you on tomorrow's stage, you understand?"
"Yes, but–"
Her set chin was perfectly visible, hoisted up a notch so that her face tipped up toward the sky. He could see the trembling of that chin, as if she clenched her teeth to still the shaking, but couldn't quite control it.
She was afraid. She was injured. She said she was Eugene's daughter. Heaven help him. "No buts. No arguments. You can't stay here after tomorrow."
"I have to." How stubborn she was. "I must find my sister."
"I tried. Likely as not she'll show up come morning safe and sound."
"What if she doesn't? Please, you have to help me. She's my littlest sister."
Wyatt tapped the ashes from the tip of his cigar. He tried not to look at the woman, but he couldn't help it. There was a vulnerability in her that called to him. She was helpless and injured, hurt because he hadn't been fast enough to stop the man following her, to keep him from firing. Unlike some women he knew, she was loyal to family. She'd come here to care for her father.
Family loyalty. It was a concept he hadn't known much of in his life. He'd only had his brother, and now . . . He stared down at his empty hands, unable fix all that had gone wrong. Ben was gone.
Wyatt Tanner, whether he liked it or not, was alone. Meant to be that way. Meant to stay that way.
Chapter Three
Garnet turned toward the cabin and her courage ebbed. The structure wasn't far, but it felt like a thousand miles away. The thought of forcing her leg to carry her that far left her weak. Fear had driven her from the cabin, but now she didn't have quite enough to make up for the teeth-gnashing pain streaking through her thigh. She knew she might as well fly to the moon as hobble a few yards to that dark, stuffy cabin.
Well, Pa was in there, and the thought steadied her. Perhaps that was why she hadn't felt exactly alone in the cabin. He had been sleeping there, quiet and ill, in the dark where she couldn't have spotted him. "If I can't find Golda, then please let me see my pa."
His voice rose out of the darkness, blending with the shadows. "Your beloved father is sacked out in my cabin. I hate to say it, but I'm glad you're here. Now I can finally get rid of that"–he paused in the middle of criticizing her father–"of that gol darned–"
She couldn't believe her ears. Why didn't Mr. Tanner disparage her father? Could it be this tough man hid a polite nature?
She almost smiled. "You can call him whatever you want. I know Pa is–"
"A whining complainer of a man."
"You're being awfully polite. I would have used harsher words."
"What? I thought–"
"What? That I'm devoted to my pa?" Her good leg buckled and she slipped to her knees in the dust. The chalky smell of earth rose up to itch her nose, and she cried out as her injured leg slammed hard into the ground.
"You aren't?" Wyatt's fingers steeled around her elbow, helping her up.
"I'm honest when it comes to Pa." The iron strength of him vibrated through her. Her spine began to tremble, sending ripples of shivers through her limbs. But it wasn't from the pain. She'd never been this close to a man who wasn't a relative. Goodness, but it was a strange sensation. Warm tingles danced up her arm, fizzed in her blood.
"Here," he rumbled like thunder. "Lean on me."
His arm reached around her shoulders, rock-hard and immovable. He wouldn't let her fall, she knew. How had he gotten this strong? With every step, Garnet tried not to think of the way his iron-corded body moved against hers, so hard and hot she forgot all about her pain.
"That's right." Encouragement softened his rum-rich voice. "You don't have much farther to go."
Heavens, how could she think about something as mundane as walking when this distracting man was holding her tight? His touch burned like fire, his strong male presence chased all thought from her head. Something primal made her heartbeat drum thick and loud in her ears.
What was wrong with her? Had she lost so much blood that it was affecting her reasoning? What kind of woman did that make her? She had been able to resist all the men back home in Willow Hollow, but she felt tingly all over from the touch and closeness of this perfect stranger.
No matter how well-made the man, her primary concerns ought to be that her sister was missing and her father was ill.
"Men die of brain fever," she said now, trying hard to focus her mind away from this handsome, dangerous stranger and back on the pain in her leg. Yes, pain. That ought to make her think of something besides Wyatt Tanner's steely chest. "I can't thank you enough for all you've done. For saving Pa's life and mine. You knew nothing about me, yet you didn't leave me in the woods after I was shot."
"Well, I considered it, but truth was, I was afraid you would still be there come morning and scare my horse."
"So helping me was a convenience?" Oh, she saw right past his tough facade.
"Something like that. Watch the step up."
His protection washed over her like starlight. Garnet caught her toe on the step, and pain ricocheted through her injured leg.
His strong arms scooped her up against his chest before she knew what he was doing. How powerful he was! Goodness, she couldn't seem to breathe because her lungs felt so incredibly tight. A good percentage of her body was in direct contact with his, rock-hard and far too intimate. She could feel his every step, his every breath.
