The Horseman's Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Why bother?” he asked. “In the time it takes the marshal to get here, those ruffians could be halfway to the next county.”
    “But what if they try to rob somebody else?”
    “They’re unarmed, Mary. And they know we can identify them. Trust me, all they’ll want to do is hightail it out of here, as far away as they can get.”
    Beside him, Clara studied the chiseled profile, the narrowed eyes and tense jaw. Where she stood againsthis side, she could feel the pounding of his heart. If her grandmother called the marshal, she sensed Tanner would slip away and be gone—along with his beautiful stallion, and a wound that could be fatal if left untreated.
    He had just rescued them, possibly saving their lives. Would it be so wrong to keep him here a little longer?
    “Tanner’s right, Grandma,” she said. “Once those men are outside the marshal’s jurisdiction, there’s nothing he can do. Why waste his time?”
    His eyes flashed toward her, caught her gaze and held it. In those fathomless blue depths she read gratitude, suspicion and a world of questions.
    Mary sighed. “Oh, that makes sense, I suppose. But I hate the thought of that awful pair getting away. I’d have aimed lower but I didn’t want to hit that poor horse.” She opened the screen door and hurried into the house.
    Clara supported Tanner as they covered the short distance toward the porch. “You don’t need to hold me up,” he muttered. “My legs are fine.”
    “Don’t be so proud!” she scolded him. “You’re in shock. You look as if you could pass out any second, and you’re about to drop that pistol.” She took the heavy .38, which was barely dangling from his fingers. “Here, sit on the steps. I’ll get you something to drink.”
    “I’m guessing there’s no whiskey.” He sank onto the middle step with a grunt of pain. His left hand clutched his right arm, the fingers tight below the wound.
    “My grandmother does keep a little—strictly for medicinal purposes. Will you be all right while I get it?”
    “Just get the blasted whiskey!”
    “Hang on.” She dashed into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind her.
     
    Only after she’d gone did Jace give vent to the pain that pooled like molten lead around the knife in his shoulder. A string of obscenities purpled the air. If nothing else, the muttered oaths braced his courage. The wound itself didn’t appear that serious, but if that blade was as filthy as the bastard who’d thrown it, he could be in danger of blood poisoning.
    The girl had surprised him, standing there like a defiant little cat pitted against a pair of mongrel curs. He’d been in the woodshed looking for gate timbers when the two ruffians appeared. It had taken him precious minutes to circle around and retrieve the pistol he’d hidden in his bedroll. He’d returned to find her with her shirt gaping open as she threatened two armed criminals with that silly little paring knife.
    His mouth had gone dry at the sight of her.
    He’d be smart to banish the image from his mind, Jace lectured himself. Clara Seavers was a lady. Her courage and fighting spirit merited his respect. But the memory of her standing there on the porch, her proud little breasts straining against the wispy fabric that covered them, would fuel his erotic dreams for nights to come.
    Damn!
    He shifted his weight on the step. The movement shot pain all the way down to his fingertips. Biting back a moan, he focused his gaze on the circling flightof a red-tailed hawk. Beyond the pasture, where the road stretched into open country, the two intruders had long since vanished from sight.
    What would have happened if he hadn’t been here? The thought sent a dark chill down his spine. He found himself wanting to catch up with the miscreants and rip them limb from limb. If either of them had so much as laid a hand on her…
    Jace shook his head, silently cursing his own helplessness. He should be counting his blessings that the