listened to his breathing, which slowed, then became calm before it turned rhythmic and deep. He slept quickly, and she studied his face and his skin.
How in the world had she come to this?
Just over a year earlier, she’d been singing in a saloon in Fort Worth. The crowds had been receptive, and the money had been good. So good, she’d had a new dress made. It had been red as blood, which was a striking color against her hair. Designed to please, the dress had been cut to show arms and shoulders and cleavage and leg. The moment she’d slipped into it, she’d heard the sound of gold coins jangling.
Give them what they want, sweetness.
The green eyes of the man she chased came to mind. Once, she’d thought his eyes were beyond beautiful. They’d held promises and dreams of mansions and wealth, which Emma could use to flee the sometimes dreary reality of life out west. For anyone at all, it was risky. If the criminals didn’t rob you and the fever didn’t get you and you managed not to starve to death, you just might survive. For a woman, it was extra dangerous. Grossly outnumbered by men, women often found themselves on the wrong end of attention they didn’t want, and came to bad ends. There were bad men in the world, and it was often hard to tell who the good ones were. Emma had dealt with the good, the bad, and the ones who were somewhere in between, but she’d survived.
The green eyes, along with the man who possessed them, had vanished.
Along with them had gone her money, that magnificent red dress, and the only piece of jewelry she had from her mother—a pin with small stones in the shape of a sparrow.
The sparrow she had worn, so The Sparrow she had been called.
What would the man lying next to her think if he knew her story? Would he flee from her, or would he stay by her side and hold her against his broad chest in the comfortable way he did right then, like they were made to lie together?
Bill sighed in his sleep, and a little smile came to his mouth.
Emma nuzzled herself into his shoulder and figured she’d think about those things later. For now, she wanted to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of him against her skin, along with the heat of the popping fire in contrast to the cool night air.
CHAPTER TEN
Bill
“You keep whistling like that, and I might have to shoot you,” Andrew grumbled as Bill made his way to the horses in the morning. “Too damn early.”
Not even Andrew’s complaining could ruin Bill’s mood. He’d made love to a beautiful woman he was crazy about, then lain with her for hours before sneaking back to camp and sliding into his own bedroll so as to not raise suspicion. He’d slept tight against her, skin-on-skin, feeling the softness of her body. There, he’d slept the sweet sleep of satisfaction.
Emma the Sparrow, from Virginia.
Lord, she was the kind of woman who made a man have to whistle. He’d been whistling “Susannah” since he’d woken up to find Emma next to him, her red waves of hair askew, and her face relaxed. He’d watched her breathe, the soft way her chest rose and fell, and traced his fingers along the delicate strength of her arms. It was obvious to Bill that she belonged in a big brass bed in a fine room instead of on a worn bedroll. Still, he wouldn’t feel sorry that she’d found her way to him, regardless of the crazy circumstances.
Though he’d lived each day of his life, he began to think maybe he’d never been truly alive until Emma had come out of the woods in his arms.
“You’re taking her to Cricket Bend, I suppose.”
Andrew’s question stopped him for a moment.
“That’s right. We discussed it while you were off cheating men out of their money.” Why the plight of the Sparrow was of any interest to his brother, Bill didn’t know, but it raised his hackles. “She’s my responsibility. Besides, any of the rest of you show up in Cricket Bend, Sheriff Anderson will hang
How in the world had she come to this?
Just over a year earlier, she’d been singing in a saloon in Fort Worth. The crowds had been receptive, and the money had been good. So good, she’d had a new dress made. It had been red as blood, which was a striking color against her hair. Designed to please, the dress had been cut to show arms and shoulders and cleavage and leg. The moment she’d slipped into it, she’d heard the sound of gold coins jangling.
Give them what they want, sweetness.
The green eyes of the man she chased came to mind. Once, she’d thought his eyes were beyond beautiful. They’d held promises and dreams of mansions and wealth, which Emma could use to flee the sometimes dreary reality of life out west. For anyone at all, it was risky. If the criminals didn’t rob you and the fever didn’t get you and you managed not to starve to death, you just might survive. For a woman, it was extra dangerous. Grossly outnumbered by men, women often found themselves on the wrong end of attention they didn’t want, and came to bad ends. There were bad men in the world, and it was often hard to tell who the good ones were. Emma had dealt with the good, the bad, and the ones who were somewhere in between, but she’d survived.
The green eyes, along with the man who possessed them, had vanished.
Along with them had gone her money, that magnificent red dress, and the only piece of jewelry she had from her mother—a pin with small stones in the shape of a sparrow.
The sparrow she had worn, so The Sparrow she had been called.
What would the man lying next to her think if he knew her story? Would he flee from her, or would he stay by her side and hold her against his broad chest in the comfortable way he did right then, like they were made to lie together?
Bill sighed in his sleep, and a little smile came to his mouth.
Emma nuzzled herself into his shoulder and figured she’d think about those things later. For now, she wanted to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of him against her skin, along with the heat of the popping fire in contrast to the cool night air.
CHAPTER TEN
Bill
“You keep whistling like that, and I might have to shoot you,” Andrew grumbled as Bill made his way to the horses in the morning. “Too damn early.”
Not even Andrew’s complaining could ruin Bill’s mood. He’d made love to a beautiful woman he was crazy about, then lain with her for hours before sneaking back to camp and sliding into his own bedroll so as to not raise suspicion. He’d slept tight against her, skin-on-skin, feeling the softness of her body. There, he’d slept the sweet sleep of satisfaction.
Emma the Sparrow, from Virginia.
Lord, she was the kind of woman who made a man have to whistle. He’d been whistling “Susannah” since he’d woken up to find Emma next to him, her red waves of hair askew, and her face relaxed. He’d watched her breathe, the soft way her chest rose and fell, and traced his fingers along the delicate strength of her arms. It was obvious to Bill that she belonged in a big brass bed in a fine room instead of on a worn bedroll. Still, he wouldn’t feel sorry that she’d found her way to him, regardless of the crazy circumstances.
Though he’d lived each day of his life, he began to think maybe he’d never been truly alive until Emma had come out of the woods in his arms.
“You’re taking her to Cricket Bend, I suppose.”
Andrew’s question stopped him for a moment.
“That’s right. We discussed it while you were off cheating men out of their money.” Why the plight of the Sparrow was of any interest to his brother, Bill didn’t know, but it raised his hackles. “She’s my responsibility. Besides, any of the rest of you show up in Cricket Bend, Sheriff Anderson will hang
Similar Books
