Adrienne deWolfe Read Online Free

set into the copper of his face.
    "Did you know Sheriff Boudreau, Mr. Rawlins?"
    "No, ma'am. I've heard talk of him, though."
    "Gator was a good man. A decent, Christian man," she added firmly, knowing firsthand the damage gossips could do. "You would never have found him behaving like one of those rude, uncouth Rangers he often kept the company of."
    A hint of amusement again crept across Rawlins's chiseled features. She noticed for the first time that he had a smattering of freckles on his nose. They blended almost to perfection with his tan.
    "Do you know a lot of Rangers, ma'am?"
    "I know a lot of lawmen, Mr. Rawlins. And I can't think of a single one—other than Gator—whom I'd consider trustworthy."
    Rawlins frowned. His eyes bored into hers, and for a moment, she had the unsettling feeling that he knew more about her suspicions than she wanted to reveal.
    Shae, for heaven's sake where are you? She wished the boy would come home. He'd been so furious with her for interfering in his fistfight that he had driven them back from town and unloaded the wagon without a single word to her. Then he had stalked off for a sulk.
    Of course, Shae or no Shae, Rorie would do what had to be done to protect the children. She certainly would feel better about martyrdom, though, knowing Shae's shotgun was guarding the cellar. Even Gator hadn't been able to beat Shae in an honest shooting match.
    "I'm real sorry, ma'am," Rawlins said, "about the way Sheriff Boudreau passed on." He inclined his head. "You must have been right close to him, Mrs.... er, Miss...?"
    "For the last time, Mr. Rawlins, what do you want?"
    She had amused him again. There was a winsome charm in his smile, a youthful appeal that was more than a little disarming. She tried to steel herself against it. She recalled Gator's tales of Billy the Kid, a young man who had always smiled before he killed.
    "Well, for starters," Rawlins said, "how 'bout putting down that Equalizer before you shoot your foot off?"
    "I assure you, Mr. Rawlins, I am not the one in danger. Now I suggest you ride on."
    "You' re not from around here, are you, ma'am?" Leaning forward, he winked in a conspiratorial manner. "I can always peg a Yankee lady by the way she doles out hospitality."
    Rorie felt her face flame. Well!
    " 'Course, I meant no offense," he continued, with that lilting vocal swagger of his. "And I sure don't want to put you out any. It's just that I've had a long ride and I'm real thirsty. Do you think we might call a truce so I can get a dipper of water? Shoot, I'll take my gun belt off, if that'd make you feel better."
    Oh, he was a clever one, this Wes Rawlins. He'd gone straight to the heart of her female pride—her hospitality. How in good conscience could she refuse him water? By the looks of him, he had had a long ride. And the nearest body of water, Ramble Creek, was another mile to the west.
    "All right," she said. "You may go to the well. But keep your hands away from your guns."
    "Sure thing, ma'am. Whatever you say."
    He was humoring her. She felt it as surely as she felt the growing fatigue in her arms. She worried she wouldn't be able to draw a straight bead on him much longer. She worried, too, about the heat and the darkness in that cellar. Poor Ginevee probably had her hands full, trying to ease the qualms of a dozen monster-fearing children.
    "Please hurry, Mr. Rawlins, before my well and my patience dry up."
    He swung a leg over his saddle, and her heart quickened as he unfolded. True to his word, he kept his hands high, but his cooperation wasn't what imprinted itself on her senses. She realized suddenly that he was taller than Shae—at least four inches taller, and Shae was six-foot! She couldn't remember the last time she'd had to tilt her head back to look a man in the eye.
    Rawlins bent his head and grinned down into her flushed face. "You mind if I use my hands now? On the dipper, I mean."
    Her insides fluttered at the provocative warmth in his voice. "Of