Reaper's Vow by Sarah McCarty Page A

what you did for her.”
    He wondered which tale they were talking about. “Then you also know I mean what I say.”
    A shiver preceded her nod.
    Hell, the woman would probably catch pneumonia while he wasted time arguing with her.
    â€œYou need to get into something dry.”
    She didn’t move. “I will.”
    The “after you leave” hung silently between them.
    â€œThen I’ll get going and let you get to it.”
    He grabbed his saddlebags and headed for the door. With his hand on the knob he looked back.
    Miranda was still standing by the bed, fingertips on the coverlet, tension in every line of her body. Wendy stood by the fire. Both of them looked at him with identical big brown eyes. Both of them looked lost and scared. Hell, even Dolly looked scared.
    It’s complicated.
    Cole had the incredible urge to go back and gather them close. To tell them it would be all right. He shook his head at his own foolishness. What the hell was he thinking? It likely wasn’t going to be all right. They weren’t his responsibility. Still the urge pressed. Still he resisted. With an inaudible “hell” he opened the door.
    A softly whispered “Be careful” stopped him dead in his tracks.
    Cold air rushed past him, sending goose bumps chasing over his skin as he turned. “Why?”
    Miranda licked her lips. She looked scared to death but determined. “Clark’s not . . . right. He won’t take well with you interfering in his plans.”
    Cole shrugged. “Won’t be the first time someone’s taken exception to my decisions.”
    â€œHe won’t fight fair.”
    â€œHe’s sneaky,” Wendy piped up.
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind.” But he was still sleeping elsewhere. Tipping his hat to both, he ordered, “Drop the bar on this door when I leave.”
    He had barely cleared the stoop when he heard the board thunk. At least the woman knew how to take an order. He remembered the way the rain plastered her dress to her chest and the full breasts it revealed. And those beautiful steal-your-soul eyes. And that courage that came out of nowhere, backed by the same fire so much more visible in Wendy. It was an intriguing combination. Adjusting his position he smiled. And the lady wasn’t married, which meant there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t take any order he cared to give. He pulled his hat down over his brow, letting the rain run off the brim. She just might be his type. And his time here might not be as tedious as he’d thought.
    A pulse of energy came out of the storm. The hairs on the back of Cole’s neck stood on end. His smile slipped. Clark. Cole could only think of a few reasons the Reaper would be out in the storm. None of them good.
Shit.
    Continuing on his path, Cole tracked Clark’s energy, which paced him. Cole loosened the tie down on his revolvers. Entering the barn, he took his saddlebags and put them down in a pile of clean hay in the corner. Clark’s energy held steady. Cole untied his slicker from the bags, a little late but better late than never. Drawing it on, he buttoned it closed.
    As he felt Clark slip away, he followed, tamping down his own energy, not wanting to project the way the Reaper was. A bit shortsighted of the man to think he was undetected, but Cole was used to men overestimating their abilities and underestimating his. In a fight it didn’t matter as much who was bigger as it did who was meaner and more skilled, and he had a lot of skills.
    Cole followed Clark until he went back to his house. Miranda seemed to think her association with Isaiah was protection. He wasn’t so sure. A man like Clark didn’t take “no” well, and the appearance of another man in his woman’s vicinity had to put his temper on edge. Clark didn’t seem like he had ahold of much—his sanity or his temper.
    Cole took up a position at