Lawman by Lisa Plumley

father
innocent. However unworthy the damned knuck was. And in Gabriel's
estimation, dangerous usually rode in on desperate, sooner or
later. He meant to be ready when it closed in on the woman beside
him.
    Until then, he'd stick as tight to her side
as the twin satchels and frilly parasol she'd insisted on lashing
to her sidesaddle for the trip to town. They bounced as she rode,
flopping up and down in concert with the close-curved brown bustle
on her dress. For a woman reportedly raised in the west, Gabriel
noticed, Megan rode remarkably poorly.
    In an effort to accommodate her, he slowed
his horse to a walk as they neared the center of the presidio . Here, wood and water vendors filled the streets,
driving their goods-laden mules between freight wagons and
pedestrians as they plied their wares in English and Spanish and
occasional Chinese.
    Speaking loudly to be heard amidst their
singsong calls and the rattle of a stage passing nearby, he turned
to his unwilling companion and asked, "How long have you lived in
the Territory?"
    From beneath the wide straw brim of her
geegaw-bedecked hat, she gave him a surly look. "Long enough to
know that innocent men don't always go free around these parts,
especially once word gets around and vigilante justice takes up the
case."
    As a punch to his sense of integrity, her
reply found its mark. Nevertheless, he kept his voice calm. She'd
realize the truth soon enough—if she hadn't begun to already. Facts
didn't lie.
    "A long while, then," he said mildly.
    "It's only seemed so since this
morning."
    Gabriel frowned and guided his horse past a
group of Indian women carrying earthen ollas toward the
center of town. Several cowboys rode past, spewing dust from their
horses' hooves. On either side of the packed-dirt main street,
whitewashed adobe shops and saloons squatted side-by-side, almost
identical in their flat roofs and peeled-log ramadas . Given
the warm autumn weather, the meager shade they cast felt welcome as
a cold drink of well water.
    Even so, the shadows they rode through
weren't half as cooling as the chilly demeanor of a woman who
thought she'd been wronged. He cast a sideways glance at the
daughter of his likeliest suspect, and all but shivered at her
schoolmarm's posture and tight-lipped survey of the people and
buildings surrounding them. She didn't want to be here.
    Especially with him.
    That made them even, Gabriel figured. He
didn't want to need her here. But he did. And until the case was
solved, he'd have to make the best of it. After nightfall, he'd
track down McMarlin and send him to follow up on the search of
Kearney station he'd been forced to postpone. In the meantime, he'd
have to do his damnedest to thaw out Miss Megan Kearney.
    He searched his mind for a neutral topic of
conversation, something he could use to take some of the starch out
of her expression. Once he'd found one, Gabriel turned his most
charming smile in her direction.
    "A woman like you must have several beaus
here in town," he remarked. "If I stop to kiss you again—" He
snagged her mare's reins in his hand and halted their progress
beneath the shelter of a newspaper office's ramada . "—will
someone be riding out from behind one of these sun-baked buildings
to avenge your honor?"
    Her startled gaze met his. As though sensing
her unease, her horse skittered sideways, forcing him to draw the
animal closer—along with its rider.
    Turning her face quickly away, Megan raised
her chin. He doubted she realized the provocative way the gesture
lengthened the vulnerable column of her neck. Or the way it
loosened the prissy, high-buttoned collar of her dress. Or the way
it revealed the telltale flicker of her pulse beating wildly at her
throat.
    Gabriel did. And vowed to remember.
    "Avenge my honor? Only if I'm lucky," she
said. A hint of pink stained her cheeks as she added, "If I'm
exceptionally fortunate, one of them will challenge you to a
duel—"
    "Ahh. You're a romantic, then?"
    "—and