Whirlwind Groom. Debra Cowan
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For that hour, Josie had been unable to watch the jail. As far as she knew, McDougal hadn’t been let out other than for a trip to the outhouse.
The sheriff hadn’t even allowed McDougal to close the privy door. Whenever Holt escorted his shackled prisoner outside, Josie noted it was with a posture that hinted at quick reflexes and an unstinting alertness. The rugged man caused her tongue to twist on itself, but so far he hadn’t shown any inkling of knowing the real reason she was here.
As she lifted her hand to knock on the door of the sheriff’s office, it opened and he smiled down at her. His eyes were a piercing blue in the evening light. “Good evening, Miz Webster. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you. I truly appreciate you taking the time to give me these lessons.”
“You’re welcome.” He reached behind him to shut the door. “I’ll be back around dark, Jake.”
“Take your time,” a deep masculine voice answered.
As Josie walked down the steps in front of the sheriff, he asked, “Do you ride or should we take a wagon?”
“I ride. Where are we going?”
“About two miles outside of town.”
She nodded, struck by the intense way he studied her. He appeared to be anticipating a reaction from her, but about what?
The sheriff had borrowed a black mare for her from the livery and moved to help her into the saddle, but she had already mounted. She had worn her dark blue split skirt so she could ride astride.
As they left Whirlwind behind, Josie tried to keep her attention on the patches of yellow and purple wildflowers spotting the flat landscape and not the way the muscles in Davis Lee’s thighs flexed as he guided his horse.
But the burlap bag full of clanging tin cans that he carried behind his saddle drew her attention to him repeatedly.
She needed to remember that he and these lessons were just her way of trying to find out information about Ian McDougal. Her next attempt on the outlaw wouldn’t be hindered.
As they rode leisurely down the dirt road, Davis Lee glanced at her. “I heard this morning that a big hurricane hit Galveston last night.”
Concern flared for all the friends she’d left behind. When she was thirteen, a vicious storm had hit Indianola, killing one hundred and seventy-six people in the city down the coast from Galveston and entirely flooding her city. “Was anyone hurt or killed?”
“I haven’t heard yet. All of their telegraph wires are down.”
Which happened in almost every hurricane. Josie frowned. “So how did you know about the storm?”
“Some folks from Houston spread the word. The sheriff there sent a wire to several counties to the north and west.”
“Oh.” Josie decided she should keep her mouth shut. Davis Lee wiring the Galveston County sheriff was something she hadn’t considered. The very real possibility that he might ask Sheriff Locke about her made her squirm in the saddle.
About ten minutes later, Davis Lee urged his buckskin mare off the wagon-rutted road and into the prairie’s short grass. Josie followed, reining up a good distance from the road when he did.
She dismounted, noticing a small stone in a cleared patch of ground just on the other side of her horse. A clump of blue wild verbena grew at the stone’s base.
“The McDougals killed our stage driver here,” Davis Lee said when his gaze followed hers to the stone. “You met his wife yesterday. Cora Wilkes?”
“Yes.” Josie stared at the small memorial the woman had erected, pain flooding her at the similar losses she had suffered. She struggled to keep her face blank as rage grew. How many people would McDougal kill before he was stopped?
“That gang also nearly killed my sister-in-law as well as Catherine Donnelly.”
Shocked, Josie spun.
“They nearly ran Susannah to ground with their horses and they kidnapped Catherine.” Davis Lee’s eyes glinted dangerously. “My cousin is a Texas Ranger who’d been chasing the McDougals for almost two years. The two of us, along with my brother, Riley, and my deputy took care of three of them in a shoot-out several months back. Ian managed to escape, but he’s in jail now. He’ll pay for what he’s done.”
Recognizing the same stern determination in Davis Lee’s voice that she often felt, she edged closer to him.
His gaze locked onto hers. “They killed Jericho’s friend, another Ranger and nearly did Jericho in, too. If it hadn’t been for Catherine’s nursing skills, he would’ve died.”
Images of her parents’ and William’s bodies burned in her mind. “You’re lucky they didn’t kill him.”
The keen interest sharpening his blue gaze made her suddenly nervous and she blurted out, “What about your parents? Did the McDougals…?”
She fervently hoped not.
“No, they passed away without any help from those polecats.”
Josie nodded.
“The rest of my family is in Whirlwind. You met my brother yesterday. And my sister-in-law and niece.”
“Lorelai. What an angel,” she said with a soft smile.
“Yes. And Jericho plans to put down roots here with Catherine after their wedding.” Davis Lee walked through the short prairie grass and stopped several yards away. As he lifted, moved and stacked a few flat rocks, the tin cans in his burlap bag clanged. “What about your family? Who did you leave behind in Galveston?”
“No one. Have you always lived here?”
“Except for a couple of years I spent up in the Panhandle.” Curiosity darkened his eyes as he approached with the now-empty bag. “I was the sheriff in Rock River.”
Just because he blabbed on about his past didn’t mean she would. Her hair was pulled back with a ribbon and she brought a thick skein over her shoulder to twist around her finger. “Did you always want to be a sheriff?”
His eyes narrowed at her nervous gesture. “As far back as I can remember.”
“Your brother didn’t?”
He shrugged. “Riley would rather be with the horses. And, as our pa used to say, I’d rather be with the horses’ ass—back ends.”
She smiled, her gaze going to the six tin cans perched on mounds of rocks.
“My grandpa was Whirlwind’s first sheriff. I wanted to continue the tradition.”
“Have the sheriffs of Whirlwind always been Holts?”
“No. For a dozen or so years there was another man here, a good man. When he decided to move farther west, I applied for the job.”
Davis Lee had to have noticed her reluctance to talk about her family and the less-than-graceful way she changed the subject. He said nothing yet Josie felt uneasily as if she were being sized up.
Dropping the empty bag to the ground, Davis Lee slid a revolver from the small of his back. His own remained in the holster strapped low on his hips. Keeping the barrel pointed at the ground, he handed her the gun. “This Colt may be a little heavy for you. It’s a .45 caliber. What do you think?”
She awkwardly balanced the weapon on her hand, surprised at its weight. “I guess I’ll get used to it.”
“If you decide to buy one, I can help you. Smith & Wesson makes a .32 caliber that might fit your hand better. They call it a pocket revolver.”
She nodded, clasping the butt in both hands and raising it to eye level.
Davis Lee reached out and gently pushed the barrel down so that it was directed at the ground. “Don’t point