The Gunslinger's Untamed Bride. Stacey Kayne
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now.” Warm hands closed over her shoulders and eased her back down. “You took a swift blow to the head.”
Eyes of the palest blue gazed down at her. She had a vague recollection of peering up into those cerulean depths once before.
“How’s the eyesight?” he asked.
Her gaze moved over his tanned features, sharp jawline and wavy blond hair with startling clarity. He held one hand up, two of his long fingers creating a vee.
“How many fingers do you see?”
“Two,” she said, smiling despite her headache. She sat up, slowly this time, and leaned back against the wall.
His swift smile didn’t help her wooziness. The handsome stranger eased back. Light glinted off the silver star pinned to his dark leather vest.
The sheriff. She glanced past him and noticed the metal bars.
“Am I in jail?”
Warm throaty laugher drew her gaze back to sparkling blue eyes. Flutters erupted low in her belly. She definitely remembered him, and was quite certain she’d found him just as striking the first time she’d looked into those sky-blue eyes.
A sudden heat flooded her face, and Lily averted her gaze.
“You’re getting some color back in your cheeks,” he said, which only increased the heat flaring into her face.
Good gracious. Lily Carrington did not swoon over men!
Glancing back at the sheriff, she now knew why. Lily Carrington had never been in the presence of a man like the sheriff of the Pine Ridge Lumber Camp.
He took a step back, his broad shoulders seeming to block out the rest of the world as he leaned against the metal door frame. He crossed his law-enforcing arms over his strong chest, creating a formidable barrier between her and the open doorway of the cell.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing up here, Lily?”
Her eyes surged wide. How did he know her name?
“Don’t remember telling me your name?”
“No,” she said, lightly touching the tender spot on the side of her head. “I’m not even sure how I ended up in here.”
Golden eyebrows pinched inward, a look of concern narrowing his eyes. “Do you know where you’re at?”
“The Pine Ridge Lumber Camp.”
He smiled at her answer. The reaction caused an alarming effect on her pulse.
“Yes, ma’am. How many women do you reckon we have here at the lumber camp?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“None. Do you know why, Lily?”
“No.”
“Same reason this logging camp has to employ its own sheriff. It’s not safe. I have enough work cut out for me without our rowdy crews fighting over a woman.”
She certainly wasn’t a woman willing to be fought over! “This is all a terrible misunderstanding. I’ve come to Pine Ridge on business.”
“I am aware.” The corners of his mouth slid upward again, and Lily was quite certain she’d never known a more handsome man with such a charming disposition. “Or was that pistol in your pocket purely for protection?”
Her mouth dropped open. Her hand slid to her empty skirt pocket.
“It’s on my desk.”
Her gaze darted to the side. Her father’s gun sat atop a stack of papers on the sheriff’s desk.
Oh, dear.
“If that revolver wasn’t so polished, I’d worry about the missing bullet.”
Lily groaned and slumped back onto the cot.
“Lily, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”
She stared into his gentle blue eyes and wondered if he used such charm to interrogate all his prisoners.
“I can’t cut you loose in this lumber camp, but if you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”
Yes, perhaps he could. “I’m—”
“Sheriff Barns!”
He glanced over his shoulder as Davy burst in through the door.
“What is it, Davy?”
“Barns?” said Lily.
The sheriff looked back at her, and Lily realized she’d spoken the name aloud. “That’s right,” he said. “Juniper Barns.”
Lily couldn’t draw her next breath. His narrowing blue eyes suggested her expression revealed her shock.
He can’t be.
“Well, heck. You already found her,” Davy said before stepping back outside.
Sheriff Barns didn’t take his eyes off her, eyes that didn’t seem quite so warm and gentle as a moment ago. “Heard of me, have you?”
He wasn’t much older than her, far too young. She’d been only twelve years of age when her father had been killed, nearly thirteen years ago.
“Does your father work up here, Sheriff Barns?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve got no blood kin left to speak of. My father died in Missouri nearly fourteen years ago.”
His emphasis on Missouri throbbed through her mind as chills raced across her skin. Her gaze dropped to the holster strapped to his lean hips, the pearl grip of one of his guns visible beneath his vest.
Gunned him down with those pearl-handled six-shooters.
Oh, God. She glanced up and fear shivered through her.
She’d come to Pine Ridge to kill the sheriff.
And he knew it.
“Where are you from, Lily?”
He’d killed her father. “San Francisco.”
“Born and raised?”
There was no running from the situation. She’d waited twelve years for this day, to meet the man who’d stolen her life.
“No.”
“Hell,” he muttered, dropping his gaze. “Why can’t the past ever stay where it belongs?”
Lily couldn’t stop staring at him, the clear blue eyes that had seemed so warm a moment ago, such handsome features. He just didn’t fit.
“Guess that explains why you’d be foolish enough to show up alone in a camp full of lumberjacks.” He swore beneath his breath.
“You can’t be the Juniper Barns from Missouri.”
“I am, though I haven’t stepped foot in Missouri since I was fourteen.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I’m assuming you knew at least one of the men who fell to my guns.”
“My father,” she said, her mind still refusing to comprehend that this man was the callous killer who’d murdered him. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest as he stared back at her, his gaze so intent she could hardly draw breath.
“My God,” he said in a whisper. “You’re Red’s daughter.”
Her eyes surged wide.
“Lily,” he said reflectively, as though he’d just recalled her name. “Lily Palmer.”
“None of this is right,” she said, fighting the sudden