Page 58 of If the Boot Fits

“As important as happiness is, surely safety is more so,” he said, watching her face for any clue that might offer insight to the workings of her mind. “This is your life we’re talking about, Samantha. You can’t take that lightly.”

“I don’t. I know what’s at stake.” She twisted to face him more fully, passion glowing in her eyes. “I’m not some fluttery debutante who faints whenever something disagreeable arises. I face challenges like my father, head on. But it’s my life, not his. If I’m willing to overlook a small misdeed, he should be, too.”

“A small misdeed?” Asher couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Samantha, he tried to kill you. There’s nothing small about that. I’ve already decided that I’m not leaving Palo Pinto until I’m sure whoever is responsible is behind bars.”

The fiery intensity in her gaze warned of an argument, but somewhere in the middle of his speech, confusion wrinkled her brow.

“You . . . you’d risk your position at the Bar 7 for me?”

He laid a hand over her arm. “I’d risk my life for you.”

She peered at him, and for the first time since this odd conversation started, he felt they were truly on the same page. “I pray it doesn’t come to that,” she whispered.

He stroked her sleeve, his chest tight. “If it does, I’m ready.”

A shy smile transformed her face and set his heart to hammering like a frenzied woodpecker in his chest. “You’re a good man, Asher Ellis.”

“Not really.” Shame had him ducking his head. He stared at his hand where it lay atop her arm, wishing he was the man she believed him to be. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes and poor choices.” One that might land him in his own jail cell someday. “But I fight for those I care about.” He raised his chin and met her gaze. “And you are quickly climbing to the top of that list.”

“Asher, I—”

A loud pounding on the front door cut off whatever she’d been about to say.

“That’s probably your father,” Asher said as he pushed up from the table. “I’ll go let him in.”

Mama Bess glanced at him over her shoulder. “Seat him in the parlor. I’ll bring a pitcher of fresh water and some glasses after I shoo Fergus outside.”

Asher nodded. Fergus didn’t need to hear the discussion that was about to take place, one that would likely contain more questions than answers at this point. Asher could fill him in on the key points after Dearing left.

Samantha rose and slipped her hand through the crook of Asher’s arm. “I’ll come with you.”

Asher made no argument, though he did wonder how long her hand would linger on his arm once her father entered the house.

Not long, as it turned out. But not because she released her hold. No, it was her bear of a father who swallowed her up in a hug so big it not only pulled her hand from Asher’s arm but lifted her feet from the floor.

“Thank God you’re all right.” Eli Dearing set his daughter down, his expression a mix of guilt, torture, and relief. “When Martin told me what happened . . . gracious, girl. I think I aged ten years in the last hour.”

Samantha gazed up at her father, her eyes moist. “I’m fine, Daddy. Martin did an excellent job of keeping us all safe after the . . . after the shooting.”

Asher’s hand found its way to her back, lending her what support he could. Her eyes found his, and her lips tipped up a bit at the corners in gratitude. It took several seconds for Asher to look away from her, but when he did, it ran straight into the pointed stare of her father. Asher fought the urge to flinch and instead held Dearing’s gaze, letting his intentions be seen. One of Dearing’s brows raised a smidge, but the cattleman turned his attention back to his daughter without further challenge.

“Clint wanted to come,” Dearing said, “but I made him stay at the ranch. After what Martin learned from the sheriff, I didn’t want to take the chance of him being targeted as well.”

That statement sharpened Asher’s attention. “What did the sheriff have to say?”

Dearing blew out a breath, then reached up to take his hat off. “Leroy Thompson ain’t our man.”

A dozen questions jumped to attention in Asher’s mind, but it was the slight stiffening of Samantha’s posture beside him that took precedence.

“Come in and have a seat.” Asher motioned her father toward the small sitting area behind him. “We can talk in here.”

Dearing nodded and strode into the parlor while Asher closed the front door. Mama Bess bustled in with a water pitcher, glasses, and a plate of cookies that had been left over from the picnic supplies. Samantha jumped in to help serve, pouring the water while Mama Bess took Eli’s coat and hat and offered him the place of honor in the armed chair nearest the hearth. She settled on the tufted stool usually reserved for Fergus and insisted that Asher and Samantha share the settee. Asher was more than happy to comply.

“Tell us about the sheriff, Daddy.” Samantha leaned forward in her seat. Her eyes were locked on her father, but her leg pressed against Asher’s as if seeking solace to help her bear the bad news to come.

He longed to place his hand on her back, to rub and soothe and support, but under the watchful eye of her father, he figured subtlety would be the wiser option and contented himself with shifting his weight slightly to bring himself a little closer to her side.

“Martin stopped by the sheriff’s office to report the shooting and to . . . express our displeasure over the lack of resolution in this case. Sheriff Jeter said he questioned the barkeep at the saloon who confirmed that Leroy had been in a foul mood and drunker than a skunk when he left the day he accosted you in the street, but he hadn’t been back since. Jeter notified other law enforcement in the area, giving them Leroy’s name and description. Got a wire this morning from the sheriff over in Parker County. Seems Leroy made it as far as Millsap. The local marshal brought him in for questioning yesterday, then locked him up when Leroy took a swing at him. Apparently, he accused the marshal of being on my payroll and enforcing a bunch of trumped-up charges. Anyway, what matters is that he couldn’t have been the one behind the rifle today. Not if he’s been locked up in Millsap for the last twenty-four hours.”