As he neared the meadow, Bear stopped abruptly and lifted his nose into the wind.
Caleb immediately froze.
In the darkness at the edge of the forest, another rider—wearing a bowler and a canvas duster—was peering out at the unfinished cabin and the saddled horses grazing in the silvery field.
Caleb silently looped the reins over a low branch and raised his Winchester.
“All right,” he called coldly.“Raise your hands where I can see them.”
Slowly, the rider obeyed.Bear trotted forward and sniffed curiously at the stranger’s boot.
“Start talking,” Caleb demanded.
The rider turned slightly in the saddle, and a shaft of moonlight illuminated her face.
A woman’s face.
And a beautiful one at that.
For the first time all night, Caleb found himself caught completely off guard.
“I was coming after you, Mr.Marlowe,” she said, gesturing toward the grazing animals.“But the men who were riding those horses got here first.”
ChapterTwo
Caleb approached the woman cautiously.Right now, he was trying to ignore the hollow feeling that always followed violence.The shooting was over, but the tension still clung to him like gun smoke.And even though his instincts told him this rider meant no harm, he had no assurance she wasn’t carrying a firearm beneath that canvas duster.
“You are Mr.Marlowe, aren’t you?”
“I am.What’s your connection with those fellas, ma’am?”
The rider tilted her head slightly.“Oh, I have no connection with them whatsoever.I was coming to find you when I saw them leaving Elkhorn ahead of me.”
“And you followed?”His tone sharpened despite himself.Following six strangers through mountain country in the middle of the night was reckless enough to get a person killed.
“I heard one of them mention your name.”She matched his tone easily enough.“I assumed following them would be the quickest way to find your ranch.Though I’ll admit they looked rather dangerous, so I stayed well behind.”
There was intelligence in her voice.Determination, too.But not much caution.
He studied her a moment longer.The moonlight silvered the brim of the borrowed bowler and softened the sharp edges of her expression.She sat straight in the saddle despite the late hour and rough country, as though she’d spent her life riding through dangerous mountain passes.But something about her told Caleb that she was a newcomer from back East.
And too proud to show fear, he thought.
“I must admit,” she continued, “when they left the road and entered the forest, I became rather lost.Then I heard the gunfire.”Her gaze drifted toward the meadow.“I hope there was no serious trouble.”
Caleb nearly laughed at that.
“Depends on who you ask.”He nodded toward the horse beneath her.“Ain’t that Doc Burnett’s gelding?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Who are you, ma’am, and what are you doing with his horse?”
She removed the bowler, and a thick braid tumbled over one shoulder in the moonlight.
“I’m Sheila Burnett.Dr.Burnett is my father.From his letters, I understand you’re a friend of his.”
Caleb blinked in surprise.
