She folded into a chair, relief weakening her knees. “What’s your name?”
“Just call me Braddock.” He escaped out the door before she could question him further.
Lorelei sorted through sugar, flour, coffee, cornmeal, and a large quantity of dried beans and rice, but she didn’t mind having so much of the same thing. In fact, she could kiss him. She instantly banished the thought and its appeal. Even Braddock’s generosity would not make him the kind of man that she should let slip past her defenses, however weak they were.
He strode back through the door, a roll of blankets under his arm. The flannel bundle he tossed onto the bed appeared well worn but thick and comfortable.
“That’s yours,” she said, standing. “You’ll need it.”
“I never use a bedroll. Too hot.” He walked over to the table. “Got everything you need?”
And then some. She looked up at him and found the courage to study his eyes for the first time. The darkness she’d first noted hid shards of green.
“Why all this? I can’t possibly pay you back.”
He held her gaze but said nothing. His stare smoldered with a hunger that made her want to blush, especially since she felt the same heat flare in her stomach. Then it occurred to her—maybe he had no intention of helping Corey, and this was his way of easing his conscience while he carted her brother off to jail.
“I can’t accept any of this,” she decided.
“You’re too smart of a woman to starve over principle.”
She met his direct gaze, daring him not to be honest with her. “Do you still plan on helping Corey?”
He didn’t blink. “I said I would, didn’t I?”
“Then I guess I’m in your debt. I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem enough.”
He crammed his hat on his head. “Just stay out of trouble and let me handle your brother.”
And without even a nod of good-bye, he strode out the door.
Lorelei followed, lured by the strange pull he had on her. She paused on the porch and watched him mount his horse, afraid he would ride away without another word. “Next time I see you, I’ll make you a nice dinner. I’m a pretty good cook.”
He gathered up his horse’s reins. “Sweetheart, next time we meet, I’m going to be looking for a lot more than a meal.” He shifted his weight, his horse bolted, and they disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER THREE
Lorelei stood in her sleeveless chemise while the deputy marshal tore apart what she had spent most of the night putting back together. No longer was she relieved it had been the law that burst past her door and startled her from a heavy sleep. The faceless outlaws that Braddock had warned her about couldn’t be any more threatening than the man who now pawed through her meager possessions.
“Can I get dressed?” she asked his hunched back, his head stuck in a trunk she had brought from Kentucky.
He glanced at her over his shoulder but quickly looked away. “Don’t move. I won’t shoot you if I don’t have to. But you should know Mulcahy’s gang’s wanted dead or alive. So don’t get any funny ideas.”
“I’m not wanted for anything.” She put her hands on her hips, despite the fact that the blush around his ears assured her that her chemise had grown transparent in the harsh morning light.
“You’ll be singing a different tune when I find the gold.” He dumped the contents of the trunk on the floor, then started beating its sides as if looking for a secret compartment.
“I don’t have any gold. Please, those things are old and delicate.” Among the embroidered tablecloth and napkins tossed in the dirt sprawled her mother’s wedding dress. The antique gown of gold silk and cream lace had always been treated with the utmost care. Lorelei clearly recalled the last time her mother had sewn fresh lavender and rose petals in the hem. She had so wanted Lorelei to wear the gown someday, and now the marshal’s boot stood within inches of desecrating both the garment and her memory. Lorelei reached for the dress.
Before she could wrap her fingers around the delicate silk, the marshal swiveled in her direction, his gun drawn. “Get back.”
She froze in mid-crouch, then slowly straightened. “That belonged to my mother.”
He leaned over and snatched up the dress. With the gun still pointed at her, he worked the material through his other hand. When his fist wrapped around the sachet lovingly placed in the bottom, he smiled.
“What’s this, missy?”
“It’s a sachet to keep it fresh.”
The marshal draped the gown carefully over a chair back. Lorelei began to relax until he pulled handcuffs from his pocket.