Chapter 6 #3
Caleb snorted, but it didn’t sound convincing, even in his own ears. He shook his head and glanced toward Doc’s house, wondering if Sheila was at home now.
Caleb had been trying to ignore the jumble of feelings Sheila Burnett brought out in him. He couldn’t quite fit her into any type of woman he knew.
When she arrived, no one knew it, but her father was being held by outlaws in the mountainous wilderness out beyond Devil’s Claw pass.
Right off, Caleb took her for an impulsive, high strung city girl of questionable intelligence.
He didn’t think she’d last a week in the rough Colorado mining town, considering she’d followed a bunch of rustlers onto his ranch in the dark of night.
She’d showed no understanding of the rough and violent ways of the frontier.
She’d also taken exception to the fact of life that a man had to protect his property, often with his gun in hand.
Sheila had showed more spunk than he expected, however, when she too had been dragged off into the mountains by the men who had Doc.
Left alone on foot in the middle of nowhere with almost nothing to protect herself against both wild animals and murderous road agents, she’d shown good sense and a lot of strength.
She’d survived that ordeal and even helped free her father.
But she was an ornery thing. As waspish as she was pretty. And that was going some.
Whatever or whoever she was, however, Sheila deserved more than him.
“Ain’t that third rocker up there new?” Zeke asked.
“I believe it is.”
“There you have it.” He slapped Caleb on the arm. “It’s the prospective son-in-law’s chair. Is that a ‘C’ she’s carved on the back?”
The sheriff looked off innocently into the distance, and Caleb seriously considered taking that rifle away from him and giving him a beating with it.
But he was right about the new chair, at least. There had only ever been two rockers on that porch. Doc had added the third after Sheila arrived in Elkhorn.
Since their adventure with them outlaws up in the mountains, Doc had confided in him that she’d left New York to escape a marriage arranged for her by her grandfather.
It was, apparently, an effort to secure family fortunes.
But Sheila had a fire in her belly and rebellion in her soul.
She was not about to be traded away like a prime breeding filly, and definitely not to a much older man, Doc told him.
His headstrong daughter had no plans of going back East.
If Caleb’s life were different and if he had any desire to settle—really settle—Sheila Burnett held charms that he couldn’t deny. But he had no such plans.
And he kept telling himself that.
He and Zeke scraped the street from their boots and climbed the steps onto the porch. Before they could knock, the door swung open and the young woman herself was standing in front of them. And damn, she was fine looking.
“Good day to you, Miss Burnett,” Zeke said, yanking his stovepipe off his head. Caleb thought for a second that the hairy little sheriff was about to bow to her.
Sheila was wearing the same dress she'd had on earlier, before the shooting started.
While Zeke was clucking at her like a mother hen, Caleb’s gaze settled on her face. She really was a pretty thing. Not in the polished, painted way of some women he'd known, but in a way that seemed to catch him off guard every time they came face to face.
Though she was paying attention to Zeke, Caleb could tell she was watching him out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she looked at him.
“Miss Burnett,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.
“Mr. Marlowe,” she replied. “Won’t you gentlemen come in? My father was expecting an official visit.”
“Yes, miss,” Zeke replied, going past her. “The judge sent us.”
As Caleb tried to follow the sheriff, she put a hand on his arm.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
His eyebrows went up.
“All the shooting. We could hear it all the way here.”
“You were worried about me?”
“No. Why should I? Isn’t this what you cowboys do? Start shooting before two intelligent words could solve a problem?”
“Oh, I see. I think it’s time for Doc to ship you back to New York.”
“I’m here, and I’m going nowhere,” she replied, eyes flashing.
For a moment they simply looked at each other.
Caleb had faced armed men that afternoon without a second thought, but there was something about the way Sheila Burnett looked at him that left him unexpectedly off balance.
Maybe it was the fire in her eyes. Maybe it was the fact that she never seemed the least bit impressed by him.
Whatever the reason, he found himself noticing the curve of her mouth and the stubborn tilt of her chin when he should have been following Zeke inside the house.
Her hand was still resting lightly on his arm. Neither of them moved.
“And I see you’re still very sensitive about the ways you settle your differences with people,” she said softly. “How many men have you killed today, Marlowe?”
The question landed harder than she knew. Caleb's gaze held hers for a moment longer before he looked away.
“More than I wanted to,” he said quietly.