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  A vicious wallop against Will’s jaw caught him by surprise. His vision shattered in a haze of red. Squinting through the pain, he swung his fist, catching the attacker beneath the chin. The man’s knees twitched then buckled beneath him. Unconscious, he flopped onto his back.

  The second outlaw pushed off from his prone position. He clawed for Tomasina, and she scooted back, kicking at his reaching hands. Will crossed the distance in three pounding strides.

  As he reached her side, she planted her booted foot in her attacker’s chest and pointed her cocked pistol between his eyes.

  The outlaw went still.

  “You owe me a new tent, mister,” she declared.

  Flexing his aching knuckles, Will shook out his throbbing hand. Now that the immediate danger had passed, he caught his breath.

  He glanced around and realized the drovers had abandoned their rowdy fight and were gathering around the new drama.

  Will rubbed his tender jaw. “Two bits to the man who fetches the sheriff.”

  “I’ll go,” a young man eagerly volunteered. He touched two fingers to his hat and dashed off.

  The outlaw staring down the barrel of Tomasina’s gun frantically shook his head. “This is all a mistake, Miss. You got this all wrong.”

  One of the cowboys sidled away from the crowd. Recognizing the man, Will elbowed his way through the drovers and blocked the man’s exit. “Not so fast.”

  “Me?” The man rubbed at his rapidly swelling eye. “I didn’t do nothin’. I had my own fight. Everyone here saw. They can tell you. I had nothing to do with this.”

  “I’ll wager you started that fight as a diversion.” Grabbing the cowboy who’d started the fight by the scruff of the neck, he yanked the third man toward his friends. “And I’m growing heartily sick of staged diversions.”

  The unconscious attacker groaned, and his eyes fluttered open. “What happened?”

  Will shoved the third attacker forward.

  Having barely regained consciousness, the first man blinked in confusion a few times. “What happened, John? Where’s Frank?”

  John groaned. “Shut up, fool. You’re giving us away.”

  “I guessed as much.” Will glanced between the two men. “I only had to see two licks of that fight to realize you weren’t giving it your all. Then I saw these two skulking around the tents. Figured the three of you were up to no good.”

  The old-timer Will had spoken with earlier chortled and elbowed Tomasina in the side. “Good thing this fellow was around to save you.”

  “I can take care of myself.” Tomasina holstered her pistol and glared at Will. “What were you doing here anyway?”

  “Checking on you.”

  The men gathered around them snickered. One drover nudged his companion. “Looks like Tomasina has a fellow.”

  Whistles and hoots followed.

  “He’s not my fellow.” Tomasina’s glare could have melted iron. “He’s...he’s...he’s the fool who owns the hotel in town.”

  Sheriff Davis chose that fortuitous moment to make an appearance. “Heard you had some trouble here, Will.” He caught sight of Tomasina and jerked his head in a nod of greeting. “Miss Stone.”

  “Sheriff Davis.”

  Will straightened. “Quincy, these three men were attempting to abduct Miss Stone.”

  “It ain’t like that at all,” John insisted. “We were just having some fun. I heard from the fellows around here that Texas Tom is good for a laugh. She knows we didn’t mean any harm.”

  Will flicked the cut edge of her tent with his cane and flashed the knife he held in his opposite hand. “You want to reconsider your story?”

  The sheriff turned toward Tomasina. “Do you know any of these men?”

  “Nope.”

  “Which outfit you fellows ride in with?” Quincy asked. “Anyone here want to lay claim to these guys?”

  “They ain’t from around here,” one of the cowboys in the crowd shouted.

  “They rode in this morning,” another called. “Said they was looking for work.”

  Sensing a change in the mood of the crowd, Frank’s gaze darted between Sheriff Davis and Will. “I’m tellin’ the truth. This is just a misunderstanding. We’re here to work. We were just playing around.”

  “Change of plans,” Will declared. “You’ll be spending time in jail before moving on.”

  “Wait just a second,” John demanded. “What’s the charge?”

  “I think we all know what you fellows were planning,” Will said through gritted teeth. “You want me to say the words?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” John held up his hands. “I ain’t going to jail for her. She’s riding with a bunch of men. She knows what that means.”

  Will clipped the man beneath chin, neatly leveling him.

  Quincy raised an eyebrow in question.

  Shrugging, Will said, “He talked too much.”

  “He was bugging me, too,” the sheriff replied easily.

  A bucket of water was fetched. The man came up sputtering and hollering. All three men’s hands were tied and a rope strung between them before the sheriff marched them into town. Now that the excitement was over, the drovers gradually dispersed to their fires and tents.

  Will turned to Tomasina. “Pack up your stuff. You’re coming with me.”

  “No.”

  Her stubborn reply only hardened his resolve. “It’s going to rain tonight, and your tent isn’t fit for habitation.”

  She stuck out her chin. “I ain’t afraid of a little rain.”

  “Please,” Will said, feeling more tired than he had in ages. What if he hadn’t come along when he had? Would anyone else have noticed? The others had been more interested in the fight than keeping an eye out for the lone woman in their midst. “After what happened tonight, I can’t leave you here. Seeing to the welfare of the town is part of my job.”

  Tomasina scuffed at the dirt. “I’m not part of your town.”

  “As long as you’re living in Cowboy Creek, you’re a part of this town.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a long day. I don’t want to argue with you.”

  Her mutinous expression faltered. “I’m fine here.”

  “I’ll tell you what.” This situation called for diplomacy, and diplomacy was all about give-and-take. He had something she wanted; she simply didn’t know it yet. “As long you stay at the hotel, I won’t harass you about your guns.”

  Tomasina squinted. “What are you getting at?”

  “What I said. Clearly you need to protect yourself. If you want to keep your guns, I’ll see that no one questions you. But only if you’re living at the hotel.”

  “I already have a deal with the sheriff.”

  “And the sheriff answers to me.”

  “Fine.” The stubborn set of her jaw remained. “But don’t go acting like you won or something. I’m staying in town because it’s late, I’m tired and I don’t feel like sewing up my tent in the dark.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll pay my own way at the hotel,” she said in a clipped tone. “I’ve got money. I won’t be beholden to anyone.”

  “Of course.”

  A wary silence stretched between them. With the ruckus over, the small tent city had grown hushed once more. Only a hint of moonlight filtered through the gathering clouds.

  A drover tossed a piece of kindling onto his fire, and embers shot into the sky. The mournful wailing of a harmonica sounded in the distance. Will didn’t push her. He let her mull over her options.

  Tomasina huffed. “Give me a minute to pack my stuff.”

  His sense of victory failed to materialize. There was something wrong. She’d given in awfully easily. He stepped closer, studying her face in the dim moon
light. The evening’s events had transpired too quickly, and he hadn’t taken the time to look at her—really look at her—since the attack. Was she injured? His pulse thudded.

  “Wait.” He caught her hand and tugged her closer. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  “They didn’t hurt me.”

  She slowly closed her eyes, her shoulders drooping. For a moment he thought he caught a hint of tears glinting on her eyelashes. Her chin wobbled. Without giving himself time to regret his actions, he folded her close. She sagged into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his middle. A fierce need to protect and cherish this woman overwhelmed him. She trembled, and he tightened his hold.

  “It’s over,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “They’re gone. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “I know. It’s not that.”

  “What, then?” He put some space between them and wiped at the tear glistening on the apple of her cheek. “What is this for?”

  Without meeting his gaze, she slumped against him once more. “No one has ever asked me that question before,” she said, her words muffled against his shirt. “You know, asked me if I was all right.”

  His breath seized. “They should have.”

  “This has been a really, really long week.”

  “Yes.”

  A person could only be strong for so long, and she’d reached her limit. He rubbed her back in soothing, rhythmic circles. Her hair tickled his nose, smelling of warm sunlight and lazy spring days. Because of her fiery personality, he sometimes forgot how petite she was, how delicate. Standing amid the sea of tents, he sensed her loneliness. Her sorrow stretched between them like a thread. They’d all lost people. He understood better than most the heavy burden of unshed tears.

  She sniffled loudly. “If you go blabbering about this, the deal is off.”

  “A gentleman never blabbers.”

  She’d had a fright this evening, and now wasn’t the time for asking about her father. He sensed a certain restraint in her; a wariness he didn’t always understand. He was hesitant to push her further. Though open and forthright in most matters, she kept a part of herself hidden. He had a gut feeling if he pressed her too quickly, she’d withdraw and shut him out completely. The past few days had sapped them both. He’d approach her later, when she was rested, when some of her strength had returned.

  Their gazes met and locked. Her lower lip quivered, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb against the trembling. “You have quite a left hook.”

  A little of the spark returned to her eyes. “He never saw it coming.”

  Only a complete blackguard would kiss someone in her vulnerable condition. Too bad he was feeling more and more like a blackguard these days.

  Sensing the shift in mood between them, her gaze grew watchful. She was a delightful mix of contradictions. One moment she was drawing her six-shooters, the next she was trembling in his arms because he’d asked a simple question. How could she embody tough and innocent at the same time?

  She sniffled quietly and gently shoved him away. “I can’t have anyone thinking I’ve gone soft.”

  Suddenly bereft, his arms hung in the air another moment, keeping the memory of her shape. There was no easing her pain. Only time healed those wounds. He’d keep her safe instead. With added security at the hotel, he’d ensure her well-being. At least for now. She was too independent to stay in one place for long.

  Oblivious to the effect she had on him, Tomasina quickly gathered her belongings, and they collapsed her tent.

  With her pack slung over one shoulder, he accompanied her to the hotel. “I want to apologize for my behavior the other day. Little Owen is no worse for wear from his ordeal.”

  Her skepticism was obvious. “Are you admitting that you were wrong about something?”

  “You’ve earned the right to gloat.” He paused. “Don’t overdo it. There’s substantial evidence to prove the diversion was created by the Murdoch Gang. You’ve heard by now we’ve captured Zeb.”

  “I heard. How’s he doing?”

  “Not well. I don’t know if he’ll pull through.”

  “If he lives, will the Murdoch Gang come for him?” Tomasina asked.

  “I reckon so.”

  She paused and caught his gaze. “The cowboys should have been watching the gate. The Murdochs never should have gotten that close.”

  “What happened was my fault,” he said grimly. “I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

  “I accept your apology.”

  “Good.”

  “And part of the blame.”

  He quirked a brow. “Tomasina Stone. I thought you’d embrace gloating with more enthusiasm. Must you always have the last word?”

  “Yep.” She grinned, her white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

  She’d gotten him again. At least she’d let him apologize. Sort of. She was staying at the hotel, too, which eased some of his worries. Will heaved a sigh at this small victory, although he didn’t linger over his short-lived relief. He’d sort out the rest when the time came.

  They reached the hotel, and Simon arranged for a room and fetched a key.

  Will followed their progress up the carpeted stairs. “Try to stay out of trouble for the next few hours, would ya? Simon needs his beauty sleep.”

  His porter shot him a blistering glower.

  “Hey, Will,” Tomasina called.

  He paused. “Yes?”

  “Word.”

  Grinning, he allowed her the last word. He’d been in enough battles to realize this war was far from over.

  Chapter Seven

  Tomasina woke early the next morning and stared at the ceiling. Sleeping on the soft mattress had proved difficult, and she’d finally moved her bedroll onto the floor. After years of sleeping on the trail, the solid wood was more comfortable than soft tick.

  Crossing her ankles, she threaded her hands behind her head. She’d only be here a day or two, just until she found work. She had a little money stashed, sure, but there was no sense in wasting her savings on a fancy room when she had a perfectly good tent that only needed a little mending.

  After last night she’d reconsidered returning to droving. Her pa and James had both warned her, but she’d been too stubborn to listen. She’d let down her guard because she hadn’t expected an attack quite that soon. She’d been naive, assuming she’d be safe among the men she’d ridden beside for years. At least she’d discovered her mistake sooner than later. Though it galled her that Will had witnessed her troubles, she had to face the truth.

  Alone among the men, she was a target.

  Despite her embarrassment, she recalled feeling safe, almost cherished. The instant he’d held her in his arms, the loneliness she’d felt since her father’s death had abated.

  Either way, what she needed was a new profession.

  With that thought in mind, she dressed and set off to search for a new job. Considering her odd list of skills, she was expecting a long search. As she crossed the lobby, she caught her reflection in the oval mirror once more. Pausing, she examined herself. This morning she’d dressed in her usual drover’s uniform of dungarees, chaps and a chambray shirt. She’d never considered altering what she wore because her clothing suited her job as a drover. However, now she had a bad feeling her current mode of dress would be an impediment to her future employment.

  Her brow furrowed, and she searched the people milling around the lobby. The maids and the housekeeper wore black dresses with starched white aprons. Simon had donned his familiar bottle-green uniform, and the hotel manager was crisply dressed in a dark suit. While she’d never heard anyone admit as such, people tended to dress in a uniform that indicated their position in society. Since she was temporarily giving up her role as a drover, she’d best pick a new uniform.
/>   Only two ladies were present in the restaurant. One of them was dressed in a simple calico print; the other wore a fancy, bright blue dress. Of the two women, the one in blue had obviously spent more time on her appearance. She was young, too; about the same age as Tomasina. Petite, she wore her strawberry-blond hair braided and tucked beneath a pert blue hat decorated with a peacock feather.

  Tomasina rubbed her hands together. This was definitely the woman she needed to see. If you wanted something done right, you picked someone who knew what they were doing.

  Tugging on her sleeves, Tomasina approached the lady in blue. “Where can I get a dress like that?”

  The woman blinked rapidly, and she touched her chest with one gloved hand. “Well, uh, I’m afraid I purchased this dress before I arrived in Cowboy Creek.”

  “Never mind.” Tomasina shrugged then squinted. “How’d you get your hair like that? Can you show me?”

  Her own hair was definitely a problem. She’d never had much luck taming her curls. She’d cut it short some years back, but that had only made matters worse. Her sheared curls had given her a wild, red halo. After that she’d settled for ripping a length of fringe from her chaps every so often and tying the heavy mass in a queue at her neck.

  “First things first.” With a smile, the woman held out her hand, palm down. “Perhaps we should begin with an introduction. I’m Pippa Neely.”

  Tomasina awkwardly pinched her fingertips. “Tomasina Stone.”

  Pippa was petite and willowy with bright hazel eyes and lustrous hair that lay smooth against her head. Tomasina touched her own unruly curls. What she wouldn’t give for locks that could be wrangled into place.

  The elegant woman inclined her head with a smile. “Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Stone, and tell me why you need a dress.”

  Tomasina flopped onto the opposite chair. “I need a new uniform. I need to look like a girl.”

  Leaning forward, Pippa rested her elbows on the table and balanced her chin on her threaded fingers. “And why is that?”

  “I’m not sure I can be a drover anymore now that my pa died.” Saying the words out loud took away some of their sting. “Pa warned me things were going to change. It used to be him and me and James Johnson. Now Pa is dead and James has turned into a real jerk.”