Lone Wolf's Woman. Carol Finch
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gotten home safely and had fallen asleep. Maybe she had simply forgotten that she had offered the suite to him. But whatever the reason, he was going to wait until morning to find out.
In the meantime he had placed himself in the perfect position to protect her from an intruder. Until this feud was resolved, Lone Wolf promised that he was going to be the Prestons’ bodyguard and hired gun.
Furthermore, he was not going to forget his place. If he did, society would certainly remind him of it quick enough. So-called decent folks had been doing it for years. He just hoped Julia could withstand the strain of censure that was sure to come her way because of their pretend marriage.
Another wave of guilt buffeted Lone Wolf. Damn it, he never should have stipulated a pretend marriage, even if it was a practical way to protect Julia and to satisfy his personal vendetta against Sol Griffin.
Lone Wolf made a pact with himself to find another way to protect Julia. He would retract his request come morning. He simply didn’t have the heart to seek vindication on Sol at Julia’s expense. In addition, Julia needed to know the truth about his connection to Sol. The longer Lone Wolf waited the worse her reaction would be.
He would tell her in the morning, and she would send him packing because of his family ties to her worst enemy.
Lone Wolf cast one last glance at the intriguing woman in bed, sighed in exasperation and told himself to go to sleep. Tomorrow he would be on his way to Colorado and she would find someone else to resolve her problems.
The next morning Julia came slowly awake. She stared up at the overhead canopy—and realized that she had plopped onto her own bed instead of the one in the guest room. Alarmed, she peeked to see if Lone Wolf had assumed she was issuing an invitation for him to sleep with her.
She sagged in relief when she noticed the other side of the bed had not been disturbed.
Tossing back the sheet, she sat up to survey the room. Nothing was out of place and Lone Wolf was nowhere to be found. Julia dressed in her shirt and breeches, then hurried in to check on Adam. She stumbled to a halt when she saw Lone Wolf straddling a chair backward, visiting with Adam, who was propped up on a pile of pillows, sipping coffee. There was a tray of bread and canned peaches beside him. Obviously Lone Wolf had been tending the patient and was taking his duty as bodyguard seriously.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Adam said with a wobbly smile.
She returned her brother’s grin, then cast Lone Wolf an awkward glance. His expression was carefully neutral. If he was wondering what she had been doing in the bed she had offered to him it didn’t show on his ruggedly handsome face.
“Adam has been giving me more background information on the rift with your neighbor,” Lone Wolf remarked. “He agrees that Sol Griffin is the most likely suspect. But we aren’t going to limit our search to just him.”
“And we aren’t going to breathe a word of this to Maggie until we know for certain,” Adam declared adamantly. “No sense turning her world upside down until absolutely necessary.”
Julia glanced out the window toward Griffin Ranch, which sat in the distance. Her eyes narrowed and she muttered furiously when she spotted a man wearing a long canvas duster and wide-brimmed hat. He had emerged from the shadows of a grove of cedar trees that lined the spring-fed creek on Preston property. Although he was riding a sorrel gelding this time, she suspected he was the same man who had shot Adam.
“He’s back. The vulture is probably trying to find out if he managed to kill Adam last night.” Julia wheeled around and took off like a shot.
“Damn it, Jules, be careful!” Adam called out hoarsely.
Julia paid him no heed. She was intent on tracking that sidewinder cross-country to see if he headed to Sol Griffin’s house. She didn’t hear but rather felt Lone Wolf’s presence behind her as she bounded down the steps.
“Slow down, woman,” Lone Wolf grumbled. “Think. That sniper might be trying to lure you out.”
“Maybe dashing off half-cocked isn’t the wisest course of action,” she muttered. “But I want revenge so badly I can almost taste it.”
“Back door.” He clutched her arm and herded her down the hall. “Better yet, you stay here and let me track the hombre.”
“No, I’m going with you and that’s that.”
He noted the determined tilt of her chin and remembered that Adam had told him Julia had run wild after their father’s death. She had become daring, reckless and impulsive while she dealt with her grief.
Judging by the look on her face, she refused to be frightened off by the thought of personal danger. He’d have to resort to tying her up to prevent her from going with him.
Julia burst ahead of him to lead the way across the back lawn. “I didn’t mean to take your bed last night,” she blurted out. “Old habit, I guess. Where did you sleep?”
“On the floor so I could keep an eye on you and Adam,” he replied as he grabbed her hand and sprinted toward the barn.
To his surprise she didn’t bother to saddle a horse, just grabbed a bridle and bit. Lone Wolf was willing to bet this wasn’t the first time Julia had galloped off bare-back. Not that he minded, of course. He had grown up in a Cheyenne camp, learning to ride expertly at a young age.
He grabbed her reins and led both horses through the back exit of the barn. “We’ll circle to the south so our friend won’t realize that he’s being tracked.”
“He’s no friend of mine,” Julia muttered bitterly. “He and Sol became my sworn enemies when they blew Adam out of the saddle last night.”
Lone Wolf winced inwardly. He couldn’t delay telling Julia about his connection to Sol Griffin. But considering her present frame of mind, he didn’t think now would be a good time.
After boosting Julia onto her horse, Lone Wolf swung onto his pinto. Giving Julia a direct order to follow behind him, he headed for the underbrush and willows that lined the creek.
“He’s still there,” Julia scowled, glaring at the silhouette that lurked in the trees. “Maybe we should just wing him a couple of times then fire a few questions at him.”
Lone Wolf swallowed a smile. “Don’t you think it would be wiser to figure out if the sniper is working alone first?”
She grumbled sourly, “I suppose you’re right.”
Julia simmered down a bit as they picked their way along the creek bank. Five minutes later the unidentified rider had disappeared completely from sight.
“There. You see? This is what comes of being cautious,” she muttered in disappointment. “He’s vanished again.”
“But he left tracks,” Lone Wolf said encouragingly. “Sometimes that’s better than the direct approach.”
“I would be a dismal failure in your profession,” Julia admitted. “Absolutely no patience.”
“Most of the deceased bounty hunters I used to know had the same flaw. This profession separates men from their mistakes. You have to learn to outwait and outwit your quarry.” He sent her a pointed glance. “If you can’t do that then go home where you should have stayed and let me handle this alone.”
She kept quiet while he slid from his horse to study the hoofprints. “He’s almost the same size as I am,” he informed Julia.
She blinked, baffled. “How do you know that?”
“Depth of the indentation and the stride of the horse. Your horse can manage long strides because of your smaller size. Mine can, too, because I selected this piebald pinto for his muscular strength, stamina and agility. White men don’t always take that into consideration.”
“You leave nothing to chance, do you? I’m impressed,” Julia murmured.
“Don’t