If she could get on the far side of the big red steer, she’d be safer. The man might think twice about shooting his boss’s livestock.
“Yep, I couldn’t tell you the times I’ve seen the ornery cusses hurt or even kill folks who got in their way.”
“Why, you low-down, flea in a dog’s—”
A shotgun blast blew away the meanest thing Emma had ever said to anyone. The gun flew out of the foreman’s hand as if a twister had snatched it away.
The startled steer made a run toward Pearl, but the blind horse stood her ground. She lowered her head and snorted. The steer turned and bolted across the prairie with the rope snaking behind him.
Emma spun about to see where the shot had come from.
Matt stood halfway between the new house and the place where she had planted her trees.
He kept the rifle trained on Mr. Tucker while he walked forward. The prairie breeze lifted the hair trailing out from under his hat. The sun shone off his jeans with each long stride he took.
“Tucker, you’ve known me for a long time.” Matt stood at the edge of the turned earth with the rifle’s aim settled on the foreman. “You know I could have blown away a whole lot more than your sidearm.”
Matt never lowered his aim. He stood steady with his legs braced wide and his vest rippling in the wind. “Turn around and ride that pony hard. You’d best make it your personal business to be sure Pendragon’s beeves stay clear of my land.”
Tucker shot Matt a sullen look, but he turned his horse and trotted after the steer.
With the danger past, Emma became aware of Lucy’s sobs. The shotgun blast must have woken her with an awful scare.
Good old Pearl stood guard. She lowered her muzzle to Lucy and nickered at her hair.
Emma reached Lucy a step before Matt did. She swept her up in a comforting hug.
“It’s all right, baby.” Lucy snuggled her face into Emma’s neck. “It’s all right.”
Matt stroked Lucy’s back, but his gaze following Tucker’s retreat toward the Pendragon spread told her that everything was far from all right.
* * *
Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Matt figured the rain to be still some way off. There’d be another hour of sitting outside by the campfire before they’d all be driven into the dugout for the night.
The scene set out about him looked as cozy as anything he’d ever seen. Lucy slept in the dugout, a tuckered-out jumping bean, Jesse had gone back to the livery for the night and Rusty had gone home, but Emma, Red and Billy sat with him under the gathering clouds soaking up the cheer of the fire.
He needed some cheer. The threat that Pendragon had sent over this afternoon had him sitting uneasy. The man kept the marshal in his back pocket and pretty much ran free rein over the town. Matt had seen the things that happened to settlers who defied the powerful foreigner.
Emma would be safe for as long as he could act the part of her husband, but what would happen come autumn?
It struck him that it might be a fine thing for her to find a respectable man, one who would stand up for her once he’d gone. It struck him like a fist in the gut!
Matt sipped his coffee and watched her across the flames. He’d ripped his shirt before dinner tonight and now that shirt lay in Emma’s lap, as he wished he could do. Her delicate-looking fingers worked a needle in and out of the fabric in what seemed to him to be a caress. Firelight bronzed her skin and sparkled on the needle.
He sure would like to make up a song about the honey glow of her hair and the pretty way her lips puckered together while she concentrated on her mending.
In the end it would be best to let that song go. The singing of it later on might weigh too heavily on his heart.
When the time came, he needed to be able to ride off with no more than a friendly wave goodbye between them.
Out across the prairie thunder rolled and bucked, but it was still far enough off that they could remain gathered about the fire.
Red laughed out loud. The knife he used to carve a toy for Lucy went still while he listened to some story that Billy told. The words were low and whispered. It