Whirlwind Bride

She turned, gave him a cool smile that made her look regal and damn infuriating. “That won’t be necessary.”

His lips tightened and he stepped up on the boardwalk. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned a few minutes later and folded a room key into her hand. “Here you go.”

Her eyes darkened. “Thank you.” Matt Baldwin swept off his hat. “Let me escort you inside.”

Susannah smiled and took his arm. Russ shifted her valises to one hand and opened the hotel door.

Gritting his teeth, Riley stepped down into the street, then climbed into the wagon. “I’ll check on you later.”

“There’s no need. You’ve done enough.” If she didn’t wipe that haughty look off her face, he was going to come up there and do plenty more.

He nodded and clucked to the mare, glancing over his shoulder when he heard Susannah’s light laughter mix with the deeper sounds of the Baldwins’. She didn’t even glance Riley’s way as he turned the wagon and headed back up the street. As if he were invisible, as if they hadn’t discussed marriage.

She needed him about as much as a boar needed a teat. She was fine. He was relieved.

Relief was the last thing he felt, Riley admitted as he braked the wagon in front of the post office a few moments later. Irritation, sympathy, even a grudging fascination flickered inside him, but not relief.

He went inside to send a wire to Adam. With his blood doing a slow simmer, Riley found thoughts of Susannah harder to shake than a burr in his sock. When she’d realized he had no intention of marrying her, hurt had darkened her clear blue eyes. At the sight, a fierce protectiveness had flared in his chest. He seemed unable to squelch that, even after seeing her surrounded by the hulking Baldwins. Especially after that.

At least she wasn’t planning to stay in Whirlwind. St. Louis was definitely the place for her. The brutal Texas climate, the unforgiving land, the isolation of ranch life whittled away at women like Susannah. This land had killed his Maddie, hadn’t it?

After he’d turned eighteen, at his parents’ request, he’d spent a year in Boston at university. He hated that closed-up life, the air and sky squeezed out by buildings and countless homes. Except for the friends he’d made—Adam Phelps being one of the best—Riley hadn’t liked anything about the big Eastern city.

As Tony Santos read back his message, Riley thought about apologizing again to Susannah. But another apology, no matter how compelled to make one he felt, wasn’t going to erase the embarrassment between them, the awkwardness. Fishing another peppermint stick out of his shirt pocket, he broke off a section and slid it into his mouth.

Cutting off further thoughts of the curvy blonde, he told the rotund telegraph operator he’d pay extra to have Adam’s reply delivered to the Rocking H as soon as it arrived.

After he left, he walked past the Pearl Restaurant and to the jail for a quick talk with his brother. Davis Lee, older by almost three years, sat on the edge of his scarred, but polished desk, whittling. Wood shavings littered the otherwise spotless pine floor. A single door behind Davis Lee’s desk opened to the four cells of Whirlwind’s jail.

Riley stepped inside the building and closed the front door, noting the quick peel and flash of Davis Lee’s knife. Davis Lee liked to whittle; he was good at it. But he only did it when something bothered him.

“More trouble?”

The eldest Holt, lanky and two inches taller than Riley, looked up with somber blue eyes. “Just came from Cora Wilkes’s house. The McDougal gang held up the stage today and killed Ollie.”

“Damn. Anyone else?”

“No. He’d just brought in three passengers and was headed to Abilene to pick up some supplies for the fort.”

“They killed him on the way out of town?”

“Yes.”

That explained why Susannah hadn’t mentioned any trouble. Sharp relief stabbed at Riley’s chest.

He removed his hat, hit by sadness at the stage driver’s death. “I’m sorry to hear about Ollie.”

“Damn those McDougals. J. T. Baldwin happened upon the scene, sent Russ to town to let me know, but none of us could catch them.” Davis Lee stood, his wiry frame as taut as strung barbed wire. He and Riley had done their share of wrestling and fighting growing up. Despite the two inches in height he had on Riley, it was always a draw. “You should’ve seen Cora.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Check in with her off and on. With winter coming, she’ll need wood and someone to help with the chickens.”

Riley nodded, made a mental note to stop by and offer his condolences on the way out of town. And he’d help out often, too, even though he hated chickens.

Ollie and Cora Wilkes had lived in Whirlwind as far back as Riley could remember. Cora supplied all the fresh eggs in town. Ollie used to let him and Davis Lee ride the boot on short stagecoach runs.

“I’ve had all the trouble I want out of those outlaws.” Davis Lee slid his knife into the top drawer of his desk. Both brothers had blue eyes like their father, but Davis Lee’s dark brown hair testified to their mother’s brunette coloring, whereas Riley had their father’s sandy hair. “I spoke to a Ranger a week or so ago. He thinks they’re closing in on them. ‘Course, they’ve been chasing those Irish bastards as long as the rest of us have.”

“They need to be stopped,” Riley agreed. “I’ll join up if you want to put together a posse and track them.”

“We’re better served to patrol Whirlwind. I plan to do that twenty-four hours a day, especially after what happened today. The McDougals killed Ollie a scant two miles from here. It’s not like them to strike so close. I don’t want to leave the town unprotected.”

“I guess the Rangers are tracking them, anyway.”

“And every bounty hunter who hears about them.” Shaking his head in disgust, Davis Lee ran a practiced hand over the row of rifles in the open gun cabinet behind him. “I can help them out best from here. I’ve already deputized all three of the Baldwins, plus Jake Ross and one of your ranch hands, Cody Tillman.”

“Five deputies? Where do you think you are, Dallas?” His brother gave a small smile. “I need enough men so that someone can stand watch in town while others patrol. And I need someone here at the jail round the clock. I’ve got a murderer in the back, waiting on the circuit judge for his trial.”

Riley cleared his throat, his nerves still jumping at how close Susannah had come to harm. “Adam Phelps’s sister, Susannah, came in on the stage this morning.”

Surprise spread across the other man’s features. “What’s she doing here?”

Riley saw no reason to humiliate her or himself by telling his brother the truth. “Visiting, I guess.”

“Staying long?”

“No.” He walked to the window, wondering if she was settled into her hotel room or if she was off with one of the Baldwins. Whatever she was doing was none of his business, he reminded himself.

“Where’s she staying? The hotel?”

“Yeah.” A glint of blond hair drew Riley’s eye, but it wasn’t her.

“I’ll go say hello.” Davis Lee walked up next to him, looking toward the hotel.

“There’s no need,” Riley said quickly. Too quickly.

His brother sent him a sideways look.

“She probably won’t be here long, is all.” He wondered if she had any idea what trouble she courted by traveling alone, especially through the outer edges of Texas. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“See you Sunday for lunch?”

“Yeah.” Riley and Davis Lee never missed Sunday lunch together, especially since their father had passed on last year. Davis Lee still had a room at the ranch, but he’d taken to staying in town after returning from Rock River to Whirlwind and being elected sheriff two years ago.

Riley left the jail and headed up the street toward his wagon, which he’d left in front of the post office. Other rigs lumbered up and down the street. A group of boys, whooping and hollering, darted out of the schoolhouse.