Lonesome Rider and Wilde Imaginings by Heather Graham

we’ve found them,” she said. She stood. “I guess—”
    â€œDon’t guess!” he warned her, aware that there was a harsh edge to his voice. “What you’re holding now is dangerous evidence against a powerful man. Manson Jenks was here last night. He surely told Harding that he knew you had come, and just as surely, Harding is going to realize that your husband had evidence against him, and he’s going to be wanting to make sure that you don’t get your hands on it, either. When Jenks doesn’t appear, Harding is going to be very worried. He’s going to have to come after you.”
    â€œBut I’ll just see that someone else gets the letters!” she exclaimed.
    â€œHe’s a colonel now, Jessy! We’ve got to go above him, we’ve got to find a general.” He paused for a moment. “Sherman has been riding out here. After the Indians,” he added wryly. “We’ll go into town first thing in the morning, and you’ll go in with Mrs. Peabody, and don’t you even think of moving out of her place until you hear from me again, do you understand?”
    â€œBut what—”
    â€œI’m going to find Sherman,” he told her.
    â€œYou want me to just sit and wait?” Jessica asked.
    â€œNo. I want you to order more supplies and wait. But I don’t want you away from Mrs. Peabody for a minute, do you understand?”
    â€œI—”
    â€œJessy, damn you, you paid a high price for me to protect you, remember? Let me do it.”
    Her chin set and her face paled. She stood up and walked across the room to the bedroom door. “Good night,” she said icily.
    He nodded and watched her go. He stared at the fire, and at the leather satchel. He shoved the satchel under the sofa and stretched out upon it.
    It suddenly occurred to him that, if he were caught, this might be his last night with her. He couldn’t be caught. But there were still a lot of Yanks out there who knew him. It wouldn’t matter he tried to tell himself. Not if he could take a few of them down with him.
    No, if he were going to take anyone down, he wanted it to be the right men now. The war was over. He was tired of the fighting. He was even ready to make peace with an army ready to decimate his mother’s people, he realized. He just wanted revenge on a few.
    To help Jessica, he might never get that chance.
    He rolled over. He couldn’t hold on to the letters. Once they were delivered into the right hands, Jessica would be out of danger. He tossed on the sofa again, onto his back. He heard a sound in the night. His eyes flew open instantly.
    Jessica. He half-closed his eyes and waited. She was wearing a soft, sheer gown. Her hair was free, newly brushed, cascading all around her in a rich golden fall. She hesitated by his side, and must have seen his eyes closed, he thought, because she started to turn.
    He reached out for her, caught her arm, pulled her back. He swept her down beside him, held her, kissed her. He enwrapped her in his arms. He held her close and stared at the ceiling, praying. Please, God. Please, God. He wasn’t even sure what he prayed for.
    Just a life with which to hold her again.
    Mrs. Peabody was delighted to see them. She was startled when Blade said that he couldn’t stay to supper. “You’re headed over to the saloon, I’ll wager!” she chastised him immediately. But he smiled, and assured her that he was not, his eyes touching Jessica’s.
    â€œI’m not, Mrs. Peabody, I mean, Rose. I’ve got a ride ahead of me tonight.” Jessica was standing next to Mrs. Peabody. Tall, slim, shapely, her eyes steadily upon his, so anxious while she tried so hard not to give away the emotion.
    Blade tipped his hat to them both and turned, starting down the two steps to reach his big bay in the street. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised.
    He mounted quickly