Shane's Bride (Mail Order Brides of Texas #3) by Kathleen Ball Page B

woke and was on his feet instantly.  He scrambled out of the stall and followed her to the door.  He watched while Cecily peeked out and then he ran with her across the yard and into the house.
    “Poor Boy, I need you to keep watch out the front window.” She led him to one of the front windows and pointed out the man in the canyon.  “Keep an eye on him while I go fetch the guns.  I don’t know most people who live around here and it’s better safe than sorry.  If you recognize him holler to me.”
    Cecily ran from window to window quickly closing the shutters.  She grabbed the rifle which was placed on the mantle over the fireplace.  She didn’t know where the shells were.  Rushing into Shane’s room she was practically out of breath when she asked him where the ammunition was.
    “Whoa, darlin’, what’s got you so upset?”
    “There’s a man coming from the secret trail.  I know how to shoot.  I need ammunition for the rifle and I need your gun.”
    Shane groaned as he tried to sit up.  “Here help me up and grab a shirt for me.  Don’t argue with me I can sit in the chair by the front window with my gun.”
    Cecily nodded and quickly helped him to sit up while she hurriedly helped him into his shirt.  She grabbed his arm and placed it over her shoulders and led him out to the front room.  She left him leaning against the wall as she ran to grab a wooden chair for him.
    Perspiration formed on Shane’s brow.  “The shotgun shells and bullets for my gun are under my bed.  My gun belt is draped over my headboard.  Run and get them for me, Poor Boy.”
    Poor Boy nodded and ran.
    Cecily stood behind Shane and pointed out the man in the canyon.  “Do you know him?”
    Shane looked out the window for a bit before he shook his head.
    “Can’t rightly say I do.  Lucy isn’t back yet?”
    “No, she hasn’t been gone very long at all.  She said she was going to the mercantile but who knows.  Poor Boy, please hurry.”
    “I got them, I got all you asked for.” Poor Boy skidded to a stop right next to Shane’s chair.  “I never seen that man before have you, Shane? I’ll take the rifle if you want the gun.”
    Cecily widened her eyes in surprise.  “I’m a pretty good shot myself you know,” she said.
    Poor Boy stared at Shane waiting for him to make a decision.
    “Poor Boy, I’m gonna need you to reload.  I know you’re fast and I need someone fast.  Same goes for Cecily she’ll need someone fast to help her too.  Now no shooting until we see what this varmint wants.  But it wouldn’t hurt to be ready.  Cecily, do you have anyone coming after you? What about you, Poor Boy?”
    Cecily felt all color drain from her face, and it took all she had not to sway. 
    “Oh damn,” he said quickly.  “I’m sorry, both of you.  Of course you’ve had awful people in your life.  It was just the sheriff in me asking those questions.  I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or to blame either of you.”
    Cecily nodded and grabbed the gun.  She checked it and made sure it was fully loaded before she went to the other window.  Looking out the shutter hole she kept an eye on the stranger.  Breathing became labored as her fear grew.  Didn’t the man know that this was the Sheriff’s house? Time dragged as they waited for the man to get closer.  He didn’t look dangerous in his nice clothes.  He looked to be the same age as Shane, and he certainly seemed out of place.
    “Well, I’ll be damned.” Shane shook his head.  “We can put our guns down.  Poor Boy why don’t you open the door for me? Don’t worry, we’re safe.  It’s my old friend Elliott McManus from back home.”
    Poor Boy seemed stuck to the floor; he didn’t move.  Cecily set down the gun and opened the door, hoping—praying—Shane was right.  The man smiled, and his eyes lit up as he tipped his hat at her.  “Ma’am, it’s mighty nice to see you.  My name is Elliott, Elliott McManus,