Lone Wolf's Lady

Tom stopped long enough to turn and say, “I’ll be back.”

But that didn’t seem to appease Sweet Heather, because she grabbed a vase and threw it at Miss O’Malley, who ducked just in the nick of time.

As the glass shattered on the floor, Sweet Heather looked as smug as a fat cat with its paw pressed down on a mouse’s tail. “The next thing I break will be your teeth.”

Tom sighed heavily. He sensed a real fight coming, and, in spite of his better judgment, he sauntered toward the redhead, lifted her feet off the floor and threw her across his shoulder like a sack of grain.

He’d been prepared for the weight of her—but not the delicate scent of lilac on her clothes and hair.

“Put me down this instant,” she cried, her words coming out in raspy shrieks. She kicked her feet and pounded her fists on his back like an ornery cougar kit that had been caught and placed in an empty feed sack.

As feisty as the former schoolmarm was, she might actually hold her own in a tussle with Sweet Heather.

He wrapped one arm around her knees and tried to still her flailing legs as he carried her outside and down the porch steps to the lawn in front of the brothel.

“I said, put me down!” she shrieked.

“Stop fighting me and I will.”

She took a deep breath, then groaned in exasperation before ceasing her struggle. He took in one last whiff of lilac, then lowered her to the ground. As he did so, she slid down the front of him, leaving them both standing in awkward silence.

Their eyes locked, and for one brief moment, something passed between them, something that stirred the senses. But Tom didn’t have time to lose his focus.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your presence was creating more trouble than either of us need. Now get out of here before the sheriff is called and your reputation is in shreds.”

“I don’t give a fig about my reputation right now. I’m going back in there, even if I have to climb in a window or slip down the chimney.”

If that were the case, Tom would either have to let her go—or wrestle her himself. And right now, tangling with her any more than he already had didn’t seem to be a wise option. Still, maybe he could ease her mind and send her on her way.

“Don’t worry about Sarah Jane,” he said. “I’m taking her someplace safe.”

“That’s not necessary. I already have plans to take her and Daisy to Wyoming just as soon as Daisy has recovered enough to travel. They’ll both be able to make a fresh start there. Daisy will find respectable work, and Sarah Jane will have...well, rest assured that I’ll provide her with opportunities she’d never have otherwise.”

Tom lifted his hat, then readjusted it on his head. “First off, I don’t think it’s in either of their best interests to remain in town long enough for Daisy to recover fully. And, secondly, while I appreciate your concern for the child, I have reason to believe that she has family in Stillwater.”

That gave Miss O’Malley pause. “You have reason to believe? You’re not sure?”

Actually, he knew that she had a great-grandfather. But he wasn’t convinced the dying old man would welcome her with open arms. “Let’s just say that I’m sure enough.”

The schoolmarm seemed to think on that, and as she did, she worried her lip. All the while, the sun continued to shine on her hair, dancing upon the glossy strands.

The autumn color was remarkable. Tom wondered what it looked like when she removed the pins, brushed out the tresses and let them hang long.

When she finally glanced up, her expressive eyes, the shade of bluebonnets, caught his. “But if she has a family, where have they been all her life? Why is she living in a place like this?”

“I’m still trying to figure out how that might have come about.” He’d tried to talk to Daisy earlier, but her throat had been badly bruised by the near strangling. The doctor had given her something for pain and to help her rest, and she’d dozed off before he could get anything out of her.

“What if that family Sarah Jane supposedly has doesn’t want her?” Miss O’Malley asked.

He’d thought of that possibility more than he dared to admit. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Apparently, that wasn’t enough to appease her, because she crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. “I won’t let you take Sarah Jane anywhere.”

Tom snorted at her hollow challenge. “I wouldn’t recommend fighting with me, Miss O’Malley.”

She studied him a moment, as if calculating the odds, then softened her stance. “Daisy is Sarah Jane’s guardian. And the two of us have reached an agreement. We’re taking Sarah Jane to Wyoming.”

“Daisy also goes by the name of Erin Kelly,” he said. “Did you know that?”

A twitch at the corner of a single blue eye suggested that she didn’t, yet she brushed off his comment. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t think her name was actually Daisy Potts.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

She stiffened. “I’m sure that’s true. Nevertheless, Daisy—or whatever name she’d prefer to go by—has agreed to go with me to Wyoming. And I plan to leave town just as soon as Dr. Hennessy says she can travel.”

“I’m afraid her plans changed when she was attacked and nearly killed.”

“It seems to me that would be all the more reason for her to want a new life. And I can help her attain that dream—in Wyoming.”

“And just whose dream is that, Miss O’Malley? Yours or Daisy’s?”

She seemed to ponder that a moment, as if he’d finally tossed something her way that she hadn’t expected. Then she seemed to shrug it off. “Does it matter? Some people become so downtrodden that they forget how to dream.”

The fool woman had an answer for everything.

“At this point,” he said, “the only thing that matters is getting Erin and Sarah Jane out of town before that man comes back and tries to finish what he started.”

Her lips parted, and the color in her cheeks drained. “Do you think the man will come back and try to kill her?”

“Come now. You’re a bright woman. Think about it. The man attacked a woman and child in broad daylight. He certainly wasn’t a drunken, unhappy customer. And when another woman interrupted the attack, he ran off before she could get a good look at him. But as far as the attacker knows, there are still two witnesses.”

She bit down on her bottom lip again as she considered what he was suggesting, so he continued to make himself clear. “From what I’ve been told, Erin has no memory of the attack—at least, not now. And Sarah Jane hasn’t uttered a word since that morning. The doctor thinks she’s traumatized by what she saw, and who knows if or when she’ll speak again. But the attacker doesn’t know that.”

Tom didn’t see any point in telling Miss O’Malley that he’d been following Caroline’s trail for the past three weeks, from Casa de Los Angelitos in Mexico, where Sarah Jane was born, to the town of Taylorsville, where Caroline had died after a fall down a flight of stairs.

And that was another thing that just didn’t sit right with him. Caroline had been a healthy and vivacious twenty-four-year-old. How had she managed to take a fatal tumble like that? And why had Erin left right after the funeral?

Something about that just didn’t make sense. The women had put down roots several different times in the past six years. And then all of a sudden, they would up and move again.

Had one or the other been running from something?

Or from someone?

If so, Tom didn’t like the idea of Sarah Jane being caught up in the backlash of whatever the adults in her life had been involved in—or running from.

He hoped he was wrong, but the only one who could answer his questions was Erin, and she was in no condition to talk yet.

“How do you plan to travel with a child and an injured woman?” Miss O’Malley asked.