Her Dearly Unintended (10 page)
Widow Sanders' eyes widened. “I never said that. I never told anyone he died. He was just goneâ¦for a very long time.”
Betsy wanted to pry, but the fear in Widow Sanders' eyes stopped her.
“You weren't on the train,” the cowboy said. “How'd you get here?”
Still reeling from the notion that Mr. Sanders was alive, Betsy could only now stop to wonder about the handsome one. Who was he?
“I walked clear from Indian Territory,” Mr. Sanders said. “But if you'uns don't mind, it's getting late, and my wife and I have a lot of catching up to do.” He stepped forward, directing them away from the house.
The cowboy's jaw hardened. His gaze caught Widow Sanders dead to rights. Betsy shivered at the pent-up strength. “As long as you're alright, Mrs. Sanders. I can stay if you'd rather.”
Betsy's jaw dropped open. This man had just stepped out of the bushes, and here he was acting like it was his job to protect WidowâMrs.âSanders. The nerve.
The former-widow Mrs. Sanders watched her husbandâBetsy couldn't quite wrap her mind around that wordâwith wary eyes, then nodded. “I'll be fine.”
The words thank you hadn't left her mouth before the door shut, throwing Betsy and the stranger into the shadows.
They stood side by side, looking at the closed door. Already Betsy was running through her mind the conversation she'd have with Uncle Fred. Imagine, Widow Sanders had a husband! But maybe Uncle Fred knew already. Was this one of those things adults didn't discuss in front of the children and then forgot to tell you once you grew up?
“What made you think he was the deputy?” the cowboy asked, obviously unconcerned with the very important internal discussion going on in Betsy's head.
She looked him over again. On occasion, Betsy was known to overindulge on candy and sweets, then later have a bellyache and wish she hadn't gorged so. That was what she feared now, studying
him. Tomorrow she'd need some coffee and jerky to chase away all the fluff.
Only then did she notice the pistols gleaming from his gun belt. Another look at his cowboy hat and fancy boots, and a piece of information surfacedâ¦a deputy from Texas. A handsome, young deputy from Texas.
The inspiration for her story had just arrived.
If the train had arrived on time, Joel would've met with the town fathers and would already be in his room, turning in for the night. Instead he'd stumbled into a bewildering maze of crooked trails, dense forests, and strange characters marauding through the night. He'd been told that another deputy had already arrived and then found that man involved in terrorizing a widow. Even worse, it looked like his best hope for an introduction to town was this starry-eyed miss. And Joel had sworn off starry-eyed misses.
She kept throwing him sidelong glances, watching him through a stray lock of blond hair that danced in the breeze. A coy smile played about her lips. Uh-oh. She was fixin' to be cute.
“I just figured he was the deputy because he was slightly overweight, dull-witted, and smelled like he'd been sleeping in a vat of pickles.”
Whatever surprise had rendered her speechless earlier had clearly lost its effect. Joel was tired, it was late, and he didn't have time for this. “You must be very observant,” he said. “So I reckon you could direct me to the nearest boardinghouse?”
“Without introductions? I don't know how it's done in Texasâ”
“Who said anything about Texas?”
He'd caught her off guard. She waved her hand before her face. “Did I say Texas? I meantâ”
“And if you know I'm from Texas, then you've already figured out I'm the new deputy. You can call me Deputy Puckett. And you areâ¦?”
She paused just long enough to give weight to her words. “Going home.” She flashed a devastating smile and spun on her heel. “Good night,” she called over her shoulder, “and good luck.”
He hadn't seen that coming. But she was disappearing down the hill, her sure steps never faltering on the uneven terrain, and if he had any hope of finding a roof for his head, he couldn't let her get away.
“Wait a minute.” He jogged to catch up with her. She walked with the easy stride of young boy but with the prickly attitude of a railroad baron's daughter. “The boardinghouse, if you don't mind.”
“Behind us. Widow Sanders is the only one who takes in boarders, but I doubt she's looking to take anyone in tonight.”
They'd reached a small hamlet. A few houses dotted the lane while lights shone between the trees, evidence of more buildings ahead.
The lady had slowed, seemed to be listening for something, and then he heard it. An echo, a cry, surely the ruffians he'd seen at the train station. Why hadn't he insisted on bringing his horse?
Holding onto her hat, the young woman tilted her head back, almost like a wolf sniffing the air. The moonlight fell on her face. Quick eyes, intelligent brow, and a mouth designed for mischief. Did she have connections with the gang? She could've been sent to keep an eye on him while they conducted their devilment.
“Where can I find Sheriff Taney? Surely he'll help me make arrangements,” he said.
“Sheriff Taney lives out past Dewey Bald. You won't want to walk out there tonight.”
“Why not?”
“That's where the gang is right now.”
“Where the sheriff is? Then he'll need my help.”
“To do what?” she asked. “Sit by the fire and pretend he doesn't hear them? I'd say he's doing that well enough alone.”
“Then I'll go by myself.”
“It's not safe.”
“Says the woman who's traipsing alone after dark.”
She dismissed that comment with a wrinkle of her nose. “I used to have a pet skunk. It behaved itself right smart as long as you acted real calm, but the last thing you wanted to do was to surprise it. Once Jeremiah ran up on it⦔
“I'm not in the mood for a story, Miss Huckabee.”
There. He'd surprised her again.
“How did you know my name?” Her eyes narrowed before widening in realization. “Mr. Sanders. He said it, didn't he? See, you're not all that clever. A clever man would've made arrangements before nightfall.”
No use in reminding her that the train was late. He'd find no sympathy, nor did he desire it. Dark cabins lined the street on both sides of them, and a cleared green of some kind waited aheadâthe town square, from the looks of it. He raised his head to follow the silhouette of the mountains before him. More cheers rang out, thinned over the distance. A dog barked incessantly, and a volley of gunshots made his teeth grind.
She sighed. “Sounds like the fun is over and I missed it again.” She lifted a hand and flopped it in his direction. “Jailhouse is straight
ahead. Probably locked up, but you can catch some shuteye under the hanging oak if the raccoons don't bother you. Just stay out of sight from the road. Loitering after dark isn't admired around here.”
She shivered and tucked her hands into her coat pockets, making for the nearest cabin. Just before she slipped inside, leaving Joel stranded in the middle of the street, she gave him another one of those devastating smiles.
“Sleep tight and welcome to Pine Gap.”
We hope you've enjoyed this special sample of
For
the
Record
by Regina Jennings. For more information on this book, please visit
www.bethanyhouse.com
or your favorite bookstore.
Regina
Jennings
graduated from Oklahoma Baptist University with a degree in English and a history minor and has been reading historicals ever since. She is the author of
A
Most
Inconvenient
Marriage
, which won the National Readers Choice Award for Best Inspirational Novel of 2014, as well as
Sixty
Acres
and
a
Bride
and
Caught
in
the
Middle
, and contributed a novella to
A
Match
Made
in
Texas
. Regina has worked at the Mustang News and First Baptist Church of Mustang, along with time at the Oklahoma National Stockyards and various livestock shows. She makes her home outside Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, with her husband and four children and can be found online at
www.reginajennings.com
.
Sixty Acres and a Bride
Love in the Balance
Caught in the Middle
A Most Inconvenient Marriage
At Love's Bidding
An Unforeseen Match from A Match Made in Texas: A Novella Collection
