Deep Trouble by Mary Connealy

I served in the cavalry in the Southwest for a while.”
    “But still you’re afraid of the dark?” Hosteen tilted his chin and had the regal look of a Navajo holy man. His long black braids, streaked with gray, practically quivered with indignation.
    “No, she just needed to rest and recover from the trouble she’d been in.” And now she was in more trouble. Gabe could see in the holy man an unhappy frown, and even more in Hosteen’s fiery eyes.
    “So, you spent the night together?” The parson wove his fingers together across his chest.
    “Yes, parson.” Shannon decided to do some talking. Well, it was about time she spoke up. “But we only slept.”
    “You admit you slept together.” Hosteen jumped on that. The woman beside him gasped and covered her mouth, her wrinkled eyes wide with shock.
    Hosteen rested his hand on her shoulder. “Be strong, Mother Hozho.”
    “No, we didn’t
sleep
together!” Shannon sounded scandalized.
    “So you stayed
awake
together then?” The parson sounded even more so.
    “Yes! Wait, no.”
    “Which is it, miss?”
    “It’s—” She swallowed so hard Gabe heard it. “Neither.”
    “I don’t believe
neither
is a choice.” Hosteen looked sideways at the elderly woman with him. Both shook their heads and looked back at Shannon.
    “You were either asleep or awake.” The parson slapped his hands together behind his back and scowled. “And you were by your own admission together.”
    “It’s just that I wasn’t up to travel.” Shannon laced her fingers together. But Gabe thought the way she did it looked like she was begging the parson and his friends to believe her. Gabe thought begging was an idea with merit.
    “But you were up to sleeping… and not sleeping.”
    “Our time together was perfectly innocent, Parson,” Shannon insisted.
    Mother Hozho made a sound that was amazingly rude.
    “So nothing sinful passed between you? Two attractive young people alone overnight? Two young people that I saw with my own eyes were holding each other very close?”
    Gabe should’ve put her down right away for sure.
    “Well…” Shannon swallowed, if anything, even
more
loudly and caught Gabe’s arm with both hands as if to keep from falling over. “Nothing… much.”
    Gabe thought under the circumstances she should have kept her hands off of him, but he couldn’t just knock her down, now could he? So he let her hang on.
    “Nothing
much
?” The parson’s voice rose an octave. Gabe knew about octaves because of his mother and her love of playing the piano. The parson was hitting very close to a high C. “Explain this
nothing much
to me.”
    “I have young children here, Mr. Lasley.” Doba decided he needed to get involved with the conversation.
    Thank you very much, Doba
.
    “Is Parson Crenshaw here?” Gabe asked. He sounded like a merciful man.
    “He and his wife are visiting a sick woman a few miles to the north,” Doba said.
    “Our whole community saw you ride in here with her in your arms.” Hosteen’s mouth curved down so it was nearly lost in the layers of wrinkles.
    “Impressionable young children, Gabriel.” Doba shook his head.
    Gabe never got called Gabriel except when he was in trouble. By his ma. But it was looking like he was indeed in trouble right now. He decided to interrupt before he found himself married to the woman and then shot just for good measure. “We couldn’t travel, Parson. Shannon needed a chance to recover.”
    “She was injured?” The parson’s brimstone eyes fastened on a very healthy-looking Shannon.
    “Sh–she—yes.”
    “I see no injuries.”
    “Well, she had a nosebleed—” Gabe pulled her closer. He’d been protecting her ever since they’d met. He wasn’t about to stop now.
    “I have one of those on occasion,” Doba said. “I hold my nose for a few moments then I continue to work.”
    The nosebleed sounded like a poor excuse even to Gabe. He was sure the parson agreed. “And besides, she’d been