Cowboy of Mine Read online

  Laura just giggled and held her husband’s arm again.

  “If my biscuits burn, I’m blaming you, Tom.”

  Tom’s scowl improved. “Why me? I didn’t ask you out here.”

  One more frown was targeted at Tom, then Mr. Wan smiled at Laura. “Mrs. Casper, always a pleasure to meet your friends.” Then he disappeared through a swinging door at the back of the room.

  “That’s my cook. Don’t you think he’s wonderful?” Laura said sing-songedly.

  Jake glanced at Tom, who still scowled, but Jake thought the glares between the two men were more jests than anything else. So he nodded. And something nudged at him. Mayhap this place wouldn’t be so bad to stay. Not stay for good, of course. He had to get back to his brothers some time. Soon.

  Lord, when would the blue-eyed man come back for him?

  Scooping the last bits of egg and potato onto his fork, Jake caught the tempting aroma of bread. This wasn’t the scent of Mr. Wan’s biscuits. This was thick, crusty, made from someone’s heart and hearth kind of bread. He nearly cried at the scent, remembering his mother and the taste of wheat and yeast smothered by butter and laughter with his brothers.

  “Meredith’s here,” Laura hummed.

  Tom grunted, still staring at Jake’s now empty plate in wonder.

  Laura stood and walked toward the clatter of tiny heals approaching.

  “Meredith, you didn’t.”

  “Well, after yesterday, I hoped to do something to help stop the fighting. But all I can do is bake bread, it seems.”

  That voice was...surprisingly rough for a woman’s, yet completely feminine nonetheless. Jake glanced up and saw a fae. Or, at least, she looked so much like a wee fairy.

  She placed a giant basket of bread on a nearby table while he took her in. A thick pink and black plaid wrapped around her shoulders and head. That blanket almost grazed the floorboards, even though she wore a large hooped gray skirt. She was a tiny thing. But it had been her face that made him think of the fae—heart-shaped with a just a few freckles on a slightly upturned nose, heart-shaped lips, and dainty dark brows graced gigantic eyes. The color, he couldn’t describe. Mayhap violet.

  He swallowed and tried to stand but found his knees buckling fast.

  “Oh, Meredith, you wise women,” Laura said. “The best way for the groups to get along is by breaking bread together. Still, we’ve hired a sheriff. Come and meet him.” Laura beckoned and trailed her way beside the table, where Jake finally had his body under volition and stood.

  “Meredith Peabody, this is Jake Cameron, our new lawman.”

  The wee lady floated closer to him. He had to be at least a foot taller than her. Even Laura towered over her. As she got closer, she extended a white-gloved hand while her gaze scrutinized him.

  “Nice to meet you.” Her voice again made a deep impact on him—coarse yet unmistakably female.

  He caught her fingers and tried to tug her close to kiss her gloved knuckles. But she began shaking his hand, and he glanced again at the way she studied him.

  It hit him through his gut then. He’d forgotten once more how ugly he was. How a woman like her might view a monster like him. Of course, she wouldn’t want him to kiss her hand. He was repellent.

  “Likewise.” His own voice had gone a bit too deep and rough.

  She kept shaking his hand, staring at him. And he let her. He let her soak it in, that he was revolting, but he would still protect her in this land, from the conflict, from anything that might harm her.

  After a moment though, he wondered when she would stop holding his hand, her ethereal eyes glimmering deeply into his own.

  “Meredith, honey, you have to let the man go,” Laura whispered.

  Meredith grimaced and retracted her hand as though he was a beast. However, she did say, “Sorry. I just...I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. By now he should have been used to the stares, the odd behavior, but coming from her, it somehow punctured his pride a bit more than usual. He sniffed, trying to act nonchalant.

  “So, Meredith, you brought the feuding miners some bread.” Laura was obviously trying to keep Meredith from staring at him, and finally she snapped and turned back to Mrs. Casper.

  “Yes. I baked some last night and some this morning.”

  “Honey, are you sleeping?”

  Meredith glanced back at Jake, her exquisite brows drawn together. Those enormous eyes of hers sparkled with a fleeting anxiety. But she peered back at Laura, one side of her pink, pink lips edging up.

  “I made some soap too. I thought Mr. Gerdenson might want it.”

  Laura laughed loudly at that. She even held a hand to her slender belly. “Oh, he needs it, that’s for sure. I will pass it on to him and hope to God he’ll accept it.”

  Jake had no clue who or what they were talking about, but couldn’t seem to help himself and stare at Meredith. She bowed her head, pursing her lips in an effort not to join in on the laugh, but a minute grin appeared nonetheless. And that smile, although so tiny like the owner, plowed straight through him, through his heart, his innards, then fell into his nether region.

  Once again he wished he wasn’t such a demon, such a monster. If only a woman like that would look at him—him, not his skin—and see...Ah, hell, did it matter? He was what he was. His skin seemed to reflect his interior, all his failures, what he’d done wrong. So mayhap, it was for the best she thought him disgusting.

  At least that’s what he tried to tell himself as he caught himself staring at the pixie woman. Then Meredith turned to him a perfect brow arched.

  “Do you like bread, Mr. Cameron?”

  Aye. But he caught himself and his instant reaction. “Yes, I do. I love bread in fact. Always have. Smells wonderful.”

  “Ha!” Tom suddenly joined the conversation from his seat at the table. “I think that’s the most Jake has said this whole time.”

  Embarrassment, hot and heady, speared through Jake’s chest and started to lance up his neck.

  “Tom,” Laura reprimanded. Then she glanced up at Jake. “Well, I love bread too. Love Meredith’s bread especially. Wait ‘till you eat it, Jake. That will fatten you up some.”

  “The man eats more than I do and look at him. No gut.” Tom shook his head and finally stood, a heavy hand landed on Jake’s shoulder. “I envy you, I do.”

  Jake tried to smile, but couldn’t help catching Meredith’s stare once more. This time she seemed to take heed of his stomach, making him burn where her eyes flittered. She tucked her chin, then ascended her gaze to his. Looking at him through dark, thick, long lashes, again, Jake felt she pommeled his gut with the way she glanced at him. And it almost seemed as if she could...see past his skin. But that, more than likely, was his fancy running amok.

  “Come on, son, I gotta show you to the mine and your job,” Tom said as he stalked close to his wife, then kissed her on the cheek.

  “You boys have a good morning. I’ll see you at noon for lunch.” Laura kissed her husband on the lips, and Jake looked down to the floor.

  But not for long. He risked it and peeked once more at Meredith. She was still eyeing him. Blinking, she tucked her chin once more, and the most delicious pink color, so like her lips, spread on both cheeks.

  “I can make you some special bread, Mr. Cameron. Do you like anything in particular?”

  His mouth went dry. His solar plexus exploded with fireworks.

  It wasn’t as if she were asking if he’d like to spend the afternoon with her, or asking if he’d walk out with her, or even asking to kiss her. It wasn’t like she asked something taboo. But his body sure thought as much. Wanted as much.

  “Sweet bread. I miss the taste of sweet bread.” The words had come out of his mouth faster than he thought they could. And he caught the way he’d pronounced his R a bit too—well, a bit too much.

  “Sweet bread it is then.” And Lord have mercy, she smiled, wide and targeted right at him, making his knees want to give way again. Damn.


  “Come, Jake. Must show you the town and such,” Tom said, while waving a hand impatiently.

  “Yes, sir.” He couldn’t help it any more, his mouth moved of its own accord. “Nice to meet you, Miss Peabody.” He wanted to grab her hand and kiss it, but he fetched his hat and while placing it on his head, tipped it at her.

  Her smile widened.

  As he started to leave, awash with the electricity that was Meredith, suddenly the inebriated Mr. Matlock at the bar sat up and started laughing. He pointed a finger at the ladies. “Mad Mere’s here! Mad Mere’s here! Crazy as a loon, Mad Mere’s here!”

  “Oh, you shut up, you old fool,” Laura hollered and wrapped an arm around Meredith, protectively hiding her from the woken drunk.

  Jake faltered in his step, catching Meredith’s visage duck into the plaid, her eyes clenching closed. That was the face of deep shame. Jake ought to know. He’d felt it on his own many a time.

  He wished he knew Meredith well enough to tuck her into his arms. He already wished that.

  But he thought she would recoil if he touched her. Sauntering past Laura to the intoxicated man, Jake hefted him by his collar.

  The man stank of beer oozing through his pores. His blurry red eyes met Jake’s.

  “I—I don’t know you,” he croaked with fowl breath.

  Jake smiled. Genuinely. Menacingly. “You will.” Then he picked up the man, slung him over his shoulders, and stormed out the Stop with Tom dryly chuckling behind.

  “I knew my wife was correct,” Tom said, catching up as Jake steered toward the jail. “You are the right lawman.” Striding in front now, Tom welded a huge ring of keys and opened the jail, Jake on his heels. “That there is Mr. Matlock. Town drunk.”

  “Only on Monday through Satur-Saturday,” Mr. Matlock said as he was jostled on Jake’s shoulders. “I drink in Great Falls on Sunday.”

  “Good to know.” Jake walked into the only cell and hefted his inmate from his back and onto a cot. He worked out a kink in his back as he crossed the other side of the cell door then slammed it shut.

  Tom rocked back on his heels, a wide, eager smile on his ruddy face.

  Jake realized then he might have overreacted to the drunk’s calling Meredith mad but didn’t want to discuss it at the moment. Or ever. Besides, Tom had seemed to agree with what he’d done. But the man kept smiling at him like the Cheshire Cat.

  Finally, Jake sighed. “What?”

  “Meredith surely is pretty, ain’t she?”

  Chapter 2

  “Lord have mercy, did you just see that?” Laura asked.

  Oh, Meredith had, and she wished she’d recorded it to watch over and over again. The new sheriff, Jake Cameron—could a name be sexier?—had picked up Mr. Matlock as if he weighed nothing, hoisted him on his broad shoulders, and marched him out. All because Mr. Matlock, like usual when drunk, had chanted that awful nickname she’d earned. Mad Mere. When she’d first landed here, in this time, in this territory, she’d zigzagged down Main Street screaming. Naked. Yeah, that hadn’t been her finest moment.

  The fact was, maybe she was a little insane. She was here, after all. A little more than four months and she was still here.

  However, what she’d never told anyone was she deserved a lot worse.

  Meredith nodded and swallowed, still a little hazy after meeting Jake. God, the man was beautiful. Tall drink of water, she should call him. Probably a little more than six towering feet of him with powerful, lean muscles showing through his black waistcoat and matching coat. And the show of strength, hauling out Mr. Matlock as though he were a small sack of potatoes, had been spectacular. She’d never seen anything like that. Not in real life.

  But was this real life?

  Laura rolled in both her lips in an obvious effort to keep from smiling. “I think that handsome man fancies you.”

  Meredith blinked, even stepping a little away from Laura.

  He couldn’t. She was...well, she was a thief for one thing. He, an obvious sheriff. She was a liar, and one look into his steely eyes conveyed honesty. Strict adherence to morality. She’d bent the rules. And he...he just couldn’t have taken a fancy to her. There was no way.

  Besides, she was in her thirties, albeit early thirties. Not in her bloom as they would say from this time. In her own era, as much as there was a condescending sense of progression from times of past, who did the major magazines hire for their photo spreads? Sixteen year-olds, that’s who. Oh, how she wished to jot down her thoughts regarding the similarities of social norms then and now, how horribly little had changed in more than one hundred fifty years. But then she remembered how she came to this kind of understanding: she was stuck in the past.

  Meredith swallowed. Probably audibly.

  Laura hummed an all-knowing note. “Don’t you give me that look, missy. I know when a man wants a woman.”

  Meredith shook her head. “He’s—I’m—no, I’m terrible. I’m Mad Mere, remember?”

  Laura snorted a laugh, but quickly hid it. “No, honey. We’re all a little concerned with how you came to be here. Mr. Matlock, in his right mind, understands why you said the things you did when you...you know.”

  When Meredith had kept screaming in the middle of the dirt street in a downpour of vicious rain, when she’d yelled she wasn’t from this time. She was from an age where there were concrete for roads and no horse shit to step in, where she had pretty things to wear and owned. She’d shrieked until she was hoarse, then kept hollering, until she collapsed and cried.

  She’d been so scared. So alone.

  Then Laura had gathered her in her arms, muddy and disgusting, cleaned her, fed her, and looked after her since. Meredith often felt she owed Laura her life. Actually, she owed her more. Because nothing felt as good as the friendship Laura had instantly offered. Her generosity was something Meredith had never seen before, never felt. It was as comforting as if Laura had swaddled her in a newborn blanket.

  But it always kept coming back to haunt her—her past. All the mistakes she’d committed replayed over and over, until she’d wrap her arms around her bent knees and cry.

  Laura shoved her arm into Meredith’s side. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see our new sheriff spark up when I introduced him to you. And don’t tell me you didn’t shine like a new penny.”

  Meredith winced. She’d been rather obvious what with all that smiling she’d done. And she’d held his hand for at least thirty-seven Mississippis.

  “Should I make dinner for you two?”

  Meredith glowered. “No. Sheriff Cameron, he...he probably didn’t see me well under the blanket. Once he gets a good look at me, he won’t...There’s no need to...”

  Laura gingerly, as if she were approaching a wild bronco, caressed Meredith’s arm. “Oh, honey, I don’t know what happened to you, but whatever it was makes you see only ugly when you look in the mirror, huh?”

  Meredith glanced away.

  Laura retracted from the touch. “I would bet our new Sheriff Cameron thinks the same as me. See those marks on his face? Probably measles or some such. But I just saw a handsome man. I think you did too.”

  “He is handsome.” Meredith wanted to bite her damned tongue off for how breathy her voice had sounded.

  Laura smiled once more. “Well, I won’t push neither of you, but I think it’s fine the way the both of you looked at each other. Gave me goose bumps. Like your souls knew each other, but your bodies were meeting for the first time.”

  Meredith wanted to contradict, wanted to say something to the effect that no man would look at her, she was too old, she’d wasted too many years, she was a horrible person who deserved to have vicious names slung at her, to be whipped and ridiculed, to be put on a scaffold for people to throw their rotten vegetables at. She deserved to be branded a criminal.

  But it was too hard to admit to. And as much as she probably should confess her guilt, she wanted Laura to think well of her. And Sheriff Cameron, even if he was out of her league.
/>   Before Meredith could think of how to respond, a whiff of strong bay rum cologne wafted in, slightly preceding a man dressed head to toe in a top-of-the-line brown silk suit. His dark hair was smudged back with some strong-smelling oil, that same hair tincture on his glossy black, thick-as-a-walrus’s mustache. The dark-haired stranger looked too polished to be in a Montana log-cabin stagecoach stop.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” His accent untraceable yet smooth as velvet.

  Laura and Meredith turned to him, and he bowed, which most people had done away with, especially out here. But Meredith and Laura looked at each other and curtsied nonetheless, while they shrugged.

  He smiled broadly and extended a hand while walking closer. The hand reached out to Meredith. “You must be Mrs. Casper. I’ve been told you practically run this whole town and the mine. I am Martin Bruisner from the Butte Mining Company. I’m here to—”

  “I’m not Mrs. Casper,” Meredith interrupted, trying to take back her hand he’d snatched.

  He kissed it anyway with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Mr. Casper’s...How shall I say this...lady friend?”

  Meredith couldn’t help but laugh. “No. This is Laura Casper, Mr. Tom Casper’s wife.”

  The man glanced at Laura, a flash of disgust apparent. He blinked and stared at her for a beat more. Then he laughed.

  “Oh, you kid, funny lady. Of course, you are joking.”

  Meredith frowned. “No. I don’t kid. This is Mrs. Casper.”

  Laura forced a grin into place and extended her own hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bruisner. I’m Laura Casper. My husband is already out of the house, but how may I help you?”

  Mr. Bruisner never touched her. He stared once more, his dark brows knitted together. “But—but miscegenation is illegal in these parts, is it not?”

  “Seeing as how Mr. Casper owns these parts,” Meredith hollered, “I doubt very much he’d make his holy marriage illegal.”

  Laura lowered her proffered hand and turned to Meredith. “Please—”

  Meredith felt her brows probably arch into her hairline, surprised Laura could be so...polite.