dumb enough to get snared.”
“I expected as much,” Sam said with a defeated sigh. “I was right, you are a—”
“…Heartless bastard who’d shoot a woman, then send her to jail,” Colt finished, an amused smile crinkling the lines around his eyes. “I’ll try to live up to your high regard.”
“You have already exceeded my expectations,” Sam retorted. “Will I be allowed to take a few of my belongings with me?”
“Take anythin’, darlin’, as long as you can stuff it in a saddlebag. Goodnight, Sam.”
Bewildered, Sam stared at Colt’s departing back. After acting like a no-account polecat he did something so totally out of character it left her stunned. If only things had turned out differently. If Ranger Colt Andrews hadn’t been on that stagecoach she’d still have her ranch and Will wouldn’t be halfway to Loredo. Sam felt no remorse over stealing from Calvin Logan. If he hadn’t foreclosed on Pop’s loan she wouldn’t be in this fix now.
Of course, she could have married Vern Logan and lived a comfortable life as a banker’s wife. Perhaps she might have persuaded the elder Logan not to call in the loan and she and Vern could have lived here until Will reached his majority and took over his inheritance. But she didn’t love Vern. Though he was nice enough to her, something deep inside told her he couldn’t be trusted. Months ago she’d learned about the woman he kept at the Palace Saloon, and that hardly endeared him to her. No, marrying Vern Logan was not the answer, Sam reflected, sighing wearily as she turned over, trimmed the wick on the lamp, and finally drifted off to sleep.
Pacing restlessly in the bedroom across the hall, Colt was not so lucky. It rankled to think that this woman, a young, inexperienced one at that, could penetrate the carefully constructed wall shielding his emotions—a barrier that had taken years to erect. He had racked his brain trying to decide what to do with Sam. Since Sanchez and her foolish brother bolted, he couldn’t leave her on the ranch by herself. The Crowders might get wind of it and pay her a surprise visit. Or an Indian raiding party might come down out of the hills and attack the house. Yet placing her in Sheriff Bauer’s jail was completely out of the question now that he knew what would happen to her under the man’s dubious care.
Taking Sam to San Antonio was an alternative Colt considered. He knew Sheriff Cole well enough to know he wouldn’t harm Sam. But he had no time for a trip to San Antonio, nor the inclination to see Sam behind bars. She was just a silly little girl struggling to hang on to a ranch for the sake of her young brother and had chosen the wrong way to go about it. True, he was a Texas Ranger sworn to uphold the law, but Rangers were notorious for bending the law to fit their own purposes. The best thing to do, in Colt’s estimation, was find a suitable place for Sam to stay where she would be properly cared for.
Sam found she could easily manage her own dressing when she arose the next morning. Disdaining the accepted woman’s garb she considered too frivolous for ranch work, she donned tight buckskin trousers much like Colt wore and a plaid shirt. A pair of sturdy boots completed the outfit. Pop preferred her in dresses, but she had neither time nor inclination for fancy fripperies. Actually, Sam had no idea how seductive she looked with the tight pants hugging her round little bottom and long sleek thighs. In keeping with her no-nonsense mode of dress, she braided her long hair in a fat plait that hung down her back.
Though dressing had taxed her meager strength, Sam found it easier than she had expected. Four days in bed allowed sufficient time for recuperation, and she was able to move around with surprisingly little discomfort. Say what you want about Colt Andrews, he was a good doctor. As well as a complete enigma. Sam seriously doubted that any woman or man alive knew him well enough to judge his
“I expected as much,” Sam said with a defeated sigh. “I was right, you are a—”
“…Heartless bastard who’d shoot a woman, then send her to jail,” Colt finished, an amused smile crinkling the lines around his eyes. “I’ll try to live up to your high regard.”
“You have already exceeded my expectations,” Sam retorted. “Will I be allowed to take a few of my belongings with me?”
“Take anythin’, darlin’, as long as you can stuff it in a saddlebag. Goodnight, Sam.”
Bewildered, Sam stared at Colt’s departing back. After acting like a no-account polecat he did something so totally out of character it left her stunned. If only things had turned out differently. If Ranger Colt Andrews hadn’t been on that stagecoach she’d still have her ranch and Will wouldn’t be halfway to Loredo. Sam felt no remorse over stealing from Calvin Logan. If he hadn’t foreclosed on Pop’s loan she wouldn’t be in this fix now.
Of course, she could have married Vern Logan and lived a comfortable life as a banker’s wife. Perhaps she might have persuaded the elder Logan not to call in the loan and she and Vern could have lived here until Will reached his majority and took over his inheritance. But she didn’t love Vern. Though he was nice enough to her, something deep inside told her he couldn’t be trusted. Months ago she’d learned about the woman he kept at the Palace Saloon, and that hardly endeared him to her. No, marrying Vern Logan was not the answer, Sam reflected, sighing wearily as she turned over, trimmed the wick on the lamp, and finally drifted off to sleep.
Pacing restlessly in the bedroom across the hall, Colt was not so lucky. It rankled to think that this woman, a young, inexperienced one at that, could penetrate the carefully constructed wall shielding his emotions—a barrier that had taken years to erect. He had racked his brain trying to decide what to do with Sam. Since Sanchez and her foolish brother bolted, he couldn’t leave her on the ranch by herself. The Crowders might get wind of it and pay her a surprise visit. Or an Indian raiding party might come down out of the hills and attack the house. Yet placing her in Sheriff Bauer’s jail was completely out of the question now that he knew what would happen to her under the man’s dubious care.
Taking Sam to San Antonio was an alternative Colt considered. He knew Sheriff Cole well enough to know he wouldn’t harm Sam. But he had no time for a trip to San Antonio, nor the inclination to see Sam behind bars. She was just a silly little girl struggling to hang on to a ranch for the sake of her young brother and had chosen the wrong way to go about it. True, he was a Texas Ranger sworn to uphold the law, but Rangers were notorious for bending the law to fit their own purposes. The best thing to do, in Colt’s estimation, was find a suitable place for Sam to stay where she would be properly cared for.
Sam found she could easily manage her own dressing when she arose the next morning. Disdaining the accepted woman’s garb she considered too frivolous for ranch work, she donned tight buckskin trousers much like Colt wore and a plaid shirt. A pair of sturdy boots completed the outfit. Pop preferred her in dresses, but she had neither time nor inclination for fancy fripperies. Actually, Sam had no idea how seductive she looked with the tight pants hugging her round little bottom and long sleek thighs. In keeping with her no-nonsense mode of dress, she braided her long hair in a fat plait that hung down her back.
Though dressing had taxed her meager strength, Sam found it easier than she had expected. Four days in bed allowed sufficient time for recuperation, and she was able to move around with surprisingly little discomfort. Say what you want about Colt Andrews, he was a good doctor. As well as a complete enigma. Sam seriously doubted that any woman or man alive knew him well enough to judge his
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