only woman on the place. She’d undoubtedly had to forego what society saw as proper female behavior in order to measure up and hold on to her position. She would’ve needed to be physically strong, have a thick skin, and an even quicker wit to pull her weight.
She said her grandfather kicked her out at age eighteen. Had working for Ketchum been her only option? She must have seen it as such, and he could only imagine how difficult making that choice must have been. When Matt Ketchum came charging at her for comparing him to less than a ryegrass straw, Garrett’s first instinct had been to jump between them to protect her. He sensed the sheriff was of a like mind, but Spring had drawn the Colt with such deadly calm, neither of them got the chance to intervene. She didn’t need protecting. Watching her face Ketchum down so fearlessly made him want to cheer. He’d never seen a woman radiate such ice-cold purpose and doubted he ever would again. That Ketchum had used his fists on her made him furious. Had she been forced to service him? Was that the reason she wanted him dead? It was a disturbing question, one he had no answer for and with his return home on the horizon, probably never would.
Later that evening, after Anna went to bed and Regan put the baby down for the night, Spring sat with her sister-in-law in the parlor. The temperature outside had dropped so they built a good-size fire in the grate.
“Thanks again for coming to my rescue today,” the still-weary Regan voiced softly.
“You’re welcome.”
“So other than being a good sister to me, what was the other reason?”
Spring thought back on the altercation at the saloon. “Had a run-in with Ketchum earlier today.”
Confused, Regan sat up straight. “The Ketchum you told me about last year? The one you once worked for? I thought you said he died in a landslide?”
“Mitch Ketchum did. This is his son, Matt.”
“What happened?”
Spring relayed the incident.
“That’s what he said to you?” Regan asked angrily. “And you didn’t shoot his bastard arse?”
A small smile curved Spring’s lips. She loved her fiery sister-in-law. The fuming Regan switched to Spanish as she always did when her emotions ran high. In the year they’d been family, Spring had learned to pick out a few of the curse words but little else. “He’s still alive. For now.”
More angry Spanish was spoken before Regan calmed enough to ask, “Did any of the men there come to your aid?”
Spring shook her head. “My Colt did that. But . . .”
“But what?”
“Whit came in, along with McCray.”
“And?”
Spring shrugged. “I sort of wish McCray hadn’t witnessed and heard everything. That’s all.”
She met Regan’s eyes.
Regan studied Spring for a long, silent moment before asking in a wondrous voice, “Do you have feelings for this man, Spring Rain Lee?”
“Doesn’t matter. He’ll be going back East soon.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t know. This is all new for me, Regan.” She then admitted, “Maybe it’s simply lust.”
“Nothing wrong with lust—ask your brother.”
Spring held up a hand. “Stop. I don’t want to think about my brother in a sentence tied to lust.”
“Neither did he, at first.”
Regan laughed, and unable to hold back, Spring joined in. “Poor Colt’s up in Rock Springs wondering why his ears are suddenly burning.”
“Probably.”
After the laughter Spring said honestly, “The last thing I want in my life is a man cluttering up things.”
“As you said, he won’t be here long enough to do that.”
“But there’s something about him that makes me want to know more about him.”
“Then use the time he’s here to do that, and if you end up with him in your bed, whose business is it besides his and yours? Just make sure you don’t get caught. I know you don’t want children.”
“I’ll protect myself, that’s a given.”
Regan reached out and took Spring’s hands. “I’m aware you aren’t seeking my approval, but I’m all for any woman snatching happiness wherever she finds it—especially if the woman is my sister. And if it’s lust—so what?”
“Please don’t bring up my brother again.”
And they laughed once more.
“I won’t promise. McCray is quite handsome.”
“So is Matt Ketchum, but something’s drawing me to McCray besides his looks, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. He can be annoying. Asks far too many questions and won’t sit at the table until I’m seated. I don’t need a man to treat me that way. Sit down.”