Page 50 of If the Boot Fits

His jealousy waned when he came close enough to recognize Clinton Dearing, but his gut remained tight. He might not have to worry about any courtship competition from that quarter, but the kid still posed a threat. One he needed to neutralize one of these days if he decided to stick around and make a serious bid for Samantha’s hand. He would have to confess his actions on the night of the ball, but not until he had Mama Bess set up. If Eli Dearing chose to make an example of him and have him taken before a judge for trespassing, whatever fine resulted could leave him without the funds necessary to complete the repairs. And if he couldn’t afford the resulting fine? Well, he’d want to have the repairs finished before they confiscated his horse and saddle and sent him to a poor farm to work off the remainder of his debt.

Samantha’s welcoming smile banished his punitory musings and replaced them with much more pleasant ideas. When she hurried forward to meet him, he immediately dismounted, wishing he could take her hand or set his hand at her back. He did neither of those things, of course, just smiled at her in return.

“Mr. Ellis is here now, Clint,” she called over her shoulder. “You can meet up with Martin now and head back to the ranch.”

“Not before I have a word.” The kid might only be twelve, the same age as Jack, but he carried himself with all the protectiveness of a man fully grown, one determined to watch out for his sister.

Asher could respect that. He’d likely feel the same if he had a sister. He braced his legs apart, ready to accept whatever lecture Clint felt like giving about preserving Samantha’s reputation.

“She’s not to go anywhere alone.”

Whatever Asher had been expecting him to say, that definitely wasn’t it.

“When she’s in town,” Clint continued, “we need someone watching over her. She’ll be eating dinner at Aunt Regina’s house instead of driving home between your riding lessons and her tutoring sessions with Jack. Are you available to keep an eye on her, or do Martin and I need to hang out in town until she’s ready to head home tonight?”

“For heaven’s sake, Clint, you make me sound like a troublesome toddler who can’t be trusted not to get into mischief the moment your back is turned.” Samantha shot Asher an apologetic look before resuming her sisterly admonishment. “Father only wanted me escorted when I traveled between town and the ranch. I’ll be perfectly fine in Palo Pinto with all the people about. You don’t need to task Mr. Ellis with guard duty. He has enough to do already.”

Asher glanced from one to the other before his gaze settled on Samantha. His throat tightened a bit as he squeezed out words he didn’t want to believe could be true. “Are you in danger?”

“There was an . . . incident on Saturday when I was driving home.”

“It was more than an incident.” Sarcasm dripped from Clint’s voice as he glared at his sister. “It was an attack.” He turned to Asher, his face set in uncompromising lines. “Some coward in a mask rode up beside her wagon and threw a sack of rattlers at her feet before galloping away.”

“There was only one rattlesnake,” Samantha corrected, but her fingers trembled as she raised them to fiddle with the button at the neck of her blouse. “But he was exceptionally large.”

Land sakes! She could have been killed. Icy dread hardened his gut, then crept through each limb, leaving an unsettling coldness in its wake. He’d known this woman such a short time, yet imagining his world without her vibrant spirit sparkling in it left a bleak hole in the middle of his chest.

Asher believed in loving his neighbor and turning the other cheek, but at the moment, all he wanted to do was hunt down the man who’d attempted to murder Samantha Dearing and beat him to a bloody pulp.

The vision of a man laying hands on her outside the saloon crystalized in Asher’s memory and turned his gut to stone. “Was it Thompson?”

“I don’t know.” Samantha’s calm tone softened the violent edges of his rage. “Nothing about the man who attacked me seemed familiar, but I only got a brief look at him. He wore a bandanna over his face, so I can’t even give you an accurate description. Leroy is the only person I can think of who might wish me harm, but he was so drunk on Saturday I don’t how he could have pulled it off.”

Her gaze finally met his, and Asher’s breath left his lungs. The incident had shaken her. Badly. Not just the attack itself, he was sure, but the idea that someone actually wanted her dead. He couldn’t imagine what that did to a person. Yet here she stood, out in the open, brave enough to continue living despite all that had happened.

He wanted to pull her into his arms, to comfort both her and himself, but Clint’s presence kept his arms hanging dutifully at his sides.

“Daddy reported Leroy to the sheriff this morning,” Clint said, “along with the fella who broke into our house on the night of the ball. My money’s on Thompson, but until he’s caught and confesses, we’re taking no chances.”

Asher’s chest went cold. They suspected the trespasser? He’d never hurt Samantha. Ever. But, of course, they didn’t know he and the trespasser were one and the same. And if they thought that intruder capable of murder, confessing could mean a lot more than a fine. It could mean a noose.

But saving his own hide wasn’t as important as ensuring Samantha’s safety. He might have it on good authority that the trespasser wasn’t trying to harm Samantha, but someone obviously wished her ill, and Asher wasn’t about to leave her exposed to danger if it was in his power to reduce the threat.

He pivoted to face Clint and thrust out his hand. “I’ll watch over her. You have my word.”

Clint shook on the agreement, then strode to his horse and mounted. “Take care of my sister, Ellis. She means an awful lot to me.”

“I will.” Asher tugged on his hat brim as the young man rode past.

She means an awful lot to me, too.

23

Asher had proved an effective guard. Maybe too effective. Samantha sighed as she packed a basket filled with ham sandwiches, a cheese wedge, a tin of crackers, hard-boiled eggs, and at least two dozen cookies. A watermelon would be joining the party as well, but it was too heavy to pack in the basket, so it would travel in a separate crate.

The idea of having Asher watch over her had seemed wonderfully romantic yesterday, but the reality failed to live up to her fairy-tale expectations. His vigilance during her riding lesson had left no room for laughter or tender glances. When he wasn’t instructing, he was watching—but not her. At least not in the way she wanted him to be watching.

They’d enjoyed a nice moment of connection when she’d taken Bruno’s reins on her own for the first time. He’d cheered her progress, and his pride in her achievement softened her heart to the consistency of pudding. And that smile. Intimate warmth had radiated from his eyes as he let his guard down, and in that moment, she’d forgotten about the dark cloud looming over her. Until his smile flattened back into a militant line, and his attention skipped over her to analyze the terrain behind.