Chasing Charity by Marcia Gruver

steady.
    Charity struggled to her feet. Her lungs had somewhat eased, and she sucked in short, gasping breaths. She longed to leap for the horse but knew if she did, he might bolt.
    The wolf held his ground, too blind-insane to be afraid.
    A shot rang out from a nearby wooded grove. The wolf yelped and lunged, straight for the legs of Buddy’s mount. The big bay reared, but Buddy held the saddle. The wolf died midleap and fell on the muddy trail with glazed eyes, teeth still bared. His tongue lolled to the side, and bloody foam rimmed his muzzle.
    Charity shuddered at the sight. Buddy rode his frantic horse a few feet away, leaped off, and ran to Charity. Oblivious to her mudcovered clothes, she threw her arms around his neck and hid her face against his chest.
    He held her and rubbed her back with both hands. “Are you all right?”
    “My legs won’t hold me.”
    “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
    She nuzzled closer and shuddered. “I was so scared.”
    “Me, too,” he whispered, “but it’s over now.”
    She raised her head and sought his eyes. “I’m sorry for being mad at you, Buddy.”
    He cupped her chin with his finger and laughed down at her. “Were you mad at me? Funny, I thought I was mad at you.”
    She smiled and pressed her cheek against the rough fabric of his shirt, for the first time aware of the clean, woodsy smell of him. He held her tighter.
    “You know,” he said, his breath warm against her hair, “next time you get peeved at me, you might want to let me in on it. Seems a shameful waste of anger if I don’t know.”
    She rose up and nodded at the wolf. “What happened? Who shot it?”
    He tilted his chin toward something behind her. “I think there’s your answer.”
    Charity looked over her shoulder. Three riders emerged from the trees, one of them Daniel Clark. He came alongside them, a rifle balanced across his saddle.
    “You all right, Charity?” His blue eyes moved over her, dark with an emotion she’d never seen there before.
    Aware that Buddy still held her, she drew a breath and moved away from him. “I will be.”
    Sidney Anderson spoke up. “We been trailing that wolf all day. Rabid, you know.”
    Buddy moved toward them, planting his feet carefully to give wide berth to the dead animal. “Yep, we figured that out.”
    Daniel motioned at the ground with his chin. “Sid, take a shovel and bury that critter. Put him deep. Cover the blood, too. Last thing we need around here is an outbreak of rabies. And, Jack”—he pointed down the trail—“follow Miss Charity’s horse and make sure it gets back to the livery.”
    Buddy nodded at Daniel. “Much obliged. I’m grateful you showed up when you did.”
    Daniel flashed a broad smile. “Oh, I reckon you could’ve handled the situation. We just came along at the right time. We’ve tracked that thing for miles.”
    Buddy grinned. “So you said.”
    Daniel leaned in the saddle to offer his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Daniel Clark.” He seemed to chew on the next part but said it anyway. “A friend of Miss Bloom’s.” His eyes shifted to her when he said it.
    She could tell he wanted to catch her reaction. She forced herself not to have one.
    Buddy seemed not to notice. He reached up and shook Daniel’s hand. “Buddy Pierce. I work for an oil company here in town.”
    “Glad to know you, Mr. Pierce.” Though he spoke to Buddy, Daniel stared at Charity. “Can I give you a ride into town, honey? You could use some cleaning up, and I’m headed that way.”
    The endearment stiffened Charity’s spine. Daniel Clark was cockier than a man had a right to be. No matter how black his hair or broad his shoulders, there were some things you just didn’t do. Besides, how did he know she was staying in town?
    She took a step closer to Buddy. “No, thank you. Mr. Pierce will take me.”
    Daniel’s dark eyebrows rose; then his gaze swept to Buddy. “I’ll leave you in his capable hands then.” He