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  A wide grin spread across Warren's face when he realized what Adam wanted to do. "Hell, if I am!" he countered. "And you just got lucky that time at Fort Smith. I've been practicing, I can beat you now."

  "Prove it."

  Warren lowered the rifle to the ground, splayed his legs and positioned his hands as if to ready himself for a fast draw. Adam did the same.

  "Tillie, what on earth is going on out there?" Blair asked, her voice so low it barely broke the heavy silence that had descended over them.

  "Ah don't know, Missy. Ah surely don't," the woman replied uneasily. "It's my guess they've taken leave of their senses. 'Cause unless Ah'm mistaken, they are 'bout to have a shoot-out! But how can they? They don't even have guns!"

  Tension hung over the men like a cloying mist. They stared at each other, but kept their hands poised over invisible gun holsters as though their lives depended on it. Each waited for the other to draw first. Then, simultaneously, they made a play for their invisible guns. Sounds of make-believe gunfire filled the air.

  The scene seemed so realistic to Blair, she almost expected to see either Warren, or the stranger, fall wounded to the ground. All she could do was stare at them uncomprehendingly when they began laughing and greeting each other like long-lost friends. It was then that she knew the man had been telling the truth, and with that knowledge came a maelstrom of emotions.

  Chapter 7

  Blair did not know what to do. Obviously from their reaction, this Adam Cahill and Warren were very good friends; and that being the case, he must be precisely who and what he claimed to be. That meant she owed the man an apology, yet . . . that idea was not appealing. Not because she was too stubborn to admit her dreadful mistake. It was the man's arrogance and insolent manner that made her reluctant to admit she had been wrong. Blair sighed heavily. Nevertheless, an apology was in order.

  Suddenly her face went grim. Regardless of their pleasant meeting, when Warren learned the truth about her coming home, he would be furious, and now that she had inadvertently mistreated his friend, it would make him even more angry. Unless ... she could do something to prevent it. A mischievous gleam came into her eyes. Since they were so good at playing games, maybe she could play one of her own.

  Before she could change her mind, Blair slammed out the back door and marched over to the men. Rolling her eyes at their hearty laughter, she crossed her arms and muttered sarcastically, "I wish someone would tell me what is so amusing, perhaps I would laugh, too. Why, I’ve never seen two grown men behave so foolishly!"

  Still laughing, Warren took Blair by her arm. "That bit of tomfoolery stems from the time we first met. There were two little boys playing gunfighters in the street and when it started getting out of hand . . ."He shook his head. "It's a long story and not that important. Come on, I want you to meet a good friend of mine. Blair, this is Deputy Marshal Adam Cahill. Adam, my little sister, Blair." His mouth twitched with amusement at the thought of such a tiny snip of a girl taking a man like Adam Cahill from behind. He could barely conceal the hilarity of it all when he added in a mocking tone, "But then, I understand you have already met."

  Blair could feel herself blushing fiercely. She was painfully conscious of the fact that the devastatingly handsome man's eyes raked over her with a distressing boldness. Although her heart suddenly started pounding rapidly, Blair forced a demure smile and acknowledged the introduction without speaking.

  Adam had difficulty believing this beguiling young woman was the same half-civilized little savage who had marched him to the ranch at gun point the previous evening. His fascinated gaze narrowed imperceptibly as it meandered over her form from head to toe. In his mind's eye he remembered how her breasts strained against her blouse, how her slightly rounded hips had stretched the trouser fabric to the bursting point. There was an all-encompassing stirring of his senses, and he was none too dismayed to realize the rampant passion flaring to life was more powerful than any he had ever experienced before. What the devil was there about the girl that prompted such a reaction, he wondered.

  Then, a dark scowl turned the corners of his mouth downward as he remembered this girl was his friend's sister!

  Frustrated, Adam deliberately glowered at her and replied with biting sarcasm, "Yes, I had that pleasure yesterday. And while I was locked up in that cold, musty cellar last night, I also had plenty of time to realize how fortunate I was to meet her."

  Blair lifted her chin and met his icy gaze straight on. She had intended to offer him a sincere apology, but since he was going to behave so obnoxiously about a silly misunderstanding, an apology would be the last thing he ever got from her. "Mr. Cahill, I do not blame you for being slightly upset ..."

  "That, young lady, is putting it mildly."

  Blair continued as though she had never been interrupted, ". . . Although, I do find your reaction difficult to understand." She deliberately spoke as primly and properly as she knew how. "You should be mature enough to realize I was merely protecting our property against what I believed to be a dangerous intruder. I do regret any inconvenience I may have caused, but in all sincerity, I feel my actions were justified." Dismissing him without a backward glance, she turned to her brother. "Warren, Tillie should have the food prepared by now. I will instruct her to set an extra place for your friend." With as much feigned regality as she dared, she turned and walked to the house, acutely aware of the eyes that followed her.

  Completely perplexed, Adam watched her disappear into the house, then he looked at Warren who had the same bewildered expression on his face. "What in the hell is she?" he finally asked. "A chameleon? Yesterday when she had me in her rifle sight, she was wearing men's breeches, her hair was braided with parts of it sticking out, there was a smudge of dirt across her face, and she talked like she had never seen the inside of a schoolhouse. And today, well . . . hell, you heard her the same as I did." Suddenly, he eyed Warren suspiciously. "You don’t have two sisters, do you?"

  Warren's teeth worried with his bottom lip. "No, just one," he drawled slowly.

  "Does she always behave this strange?"

  He shrugged, obviously still confused. "I really can't say. This is the first time I’ve seen her in four years."

  "Four years?"

  "She's been attending a school back East," he explained. "I hated to send her away, but I had to do something. Except for the housekeeper, Blair was not receiving any female guidance and with her being raised by four brothers and a grandfather, she was getting so wild I couldn't do anything with her. From your description of her yesterday, apparently the schoolmistress didn't do much either." Chortling, he scratched his head. "Well, I suppose she learned how to be a prissy snob, and, to be honest, I think I prefer the old Blair better." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what she's up to, but I'd be willing to bet the girl you saw yesterday or the prissy little tart we just saw is not the real Blair. One thing is certain, though. You can bet she's up to something. Although she gave a good reason for coming home so suddenly, I can't help but feel there is more to it than what she said. But, she might have acted that way because she's embarrassed about misjudging you, and just too damn stubborn to admit it. I just don't know. . . ."

  "Maybe you're right. What galled me about yesterday though, is that she enjoyed herself so much at my expense."

  "I understand how you feel and don't blame you a bit. If it was me, Td probably want to turn her over my knee. "

  Grinning unabashedly, Adam said, "That same thought occurred to me several times." He reached for a cheroot. "I suppose this may sound strange, but I’m really not that angry. Humiliated, yes. The fact that a little dirty-faced girl got the drop on me is something I wouldn't want too many people to know. Then, too, you know as well as I do, if one of your brothers or one of your hands had brought me in ... we probably wouldn't even have given it a second thought."

  "You're right, we wouldn't have. It grates on a man's pride when a
woman gets the best of him. That's why I'm so puzzled about her behavior. It wouldn't surprise me if the little weasel is trying to outsmart the wise old fox."

  Adam understood his meaning. A genuine smile toyed with his lips. "Think so?"

  "I am almost positive. As I said before, she's been away for several years, but I doubt if she has changed all that much. I figure she's either up to something or trying to hide something from me. I'll find out, though. Later, if I ask a few misleading or strange questions, if necessary, just go along with me, all right?"

  "With pleasure, especially if it means getting a little revenge!" Adam stated emphatically.

  Warren clasped his hand on Adam's shoulder. "Before you tell me the real purpose behind your visit to these parts, which I'm sure is very important because I've been trying to get you out here for a long time now without any success, I'd like to ask you a question."

  "What's that?"

  He looked at Adam's bare feet and, forcing his voice to sound lighthearted, he asked, "Can't you talk Judge Parker into paying you enough to buy yourself a pair of boots? " Even though he had spoken in a jesting manner, he knew his friend's feet had to be causing him considerable pain. They were blistered, bloody, and raw. His expression grew somber. "Damn, man, what happened to them?"

  Adam managed to shrug and say offhandedly, "Well, I suppose in an indirect way, they are the reason I got myself in this mess." He glanced at the house when his stomach grumbled. "If memory serves me correctly, Little Miss High and Mighty mentioned something about food. You know me, I’m not the least bit bashful when it comes to eating. Show me to the wash shed and I’ll fill you in on all of the details while we wash up."

  Blair hurried to the kitchen hutch and removed another place setting for the table. She set the napkin, plate, silverware, cup and saucer on the table, stepped back then rearranged it several more times before she was satisfied that it looked just right. Tillie, who stood in front of the stove kept watching her expectantly, as if waiting for an explanation.

  "Well? Ah'm waiting! Are you going to tell me what went on out there or not?"

  "We're having a guest for dinner—or is it breakfast?" Blair asked, glancing at the food Tillie was spooning from the skillets.

  "If’ n you ask me, it ought to be dinner as late as it is, but Ah thought ham, eggs, toasted bread, and flapjacks would be quicker to cook. Put some more butter on the table, would you. Missy? And Ah'm still a-waiting to hear."

  "I'm afraid I made a mistake, Tillie. That man is who he claimed to be, and to make matters worse, he and Warren are good friends. And even though Warren mumbled something about two little boys in Fort Smith, I really have no idea what that little charade was about." Blair paused in front of the glass-fronted hutch and, frowning at her reflection, fussed with her hair and smoothed her dress over her slender hips.

  Tillie raised one brow and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Seems to me you don't find that notion 'bout them being friends too difficult to accept."

  Blair whirled about. "What makes you think something like that? It so happens I find his presence very . . . uncomfortable," she spoke as though trying to convince herself. "The way he looks at me, and the color of his eyes ... I don't know, it just makes me feel strange inside."

  "Like he's going to hurt you?"

  "Oh, no, it is nothing like that," Blair rushed to say. "Although, I'm sure what I did was terribly embarrassing for him; men are like that when it comes to their foolish pride. He'd probably like to throttle me for it, too, but I seriously doubt if he'll hold a grudge. I hope not anyway." She grinned at Tillie and wiggled her brows in a teasing manner. "I might as well tell you, you'll drag it out of me anyway. I think he is very attractive-in a rugged, masculine way."

  Tillie bustled about the table, her ample figure moving with ease. "After seeing you primp in that glass, that's what Ah suspected. You think ol' Tillie ain't got eyes in her head, but she does. She knows a good-lookin' man when she sees one and that young fellow out there is definitely handsome. You'd be right smart if’n you grabbed him up, cause there ain't nothing looks like him 'round these parts . . unless you think somebody like that Baker boy is fittin'. And if you think something like that, child, then you've done lost your mind!" Tillie wiped her hands on a tea-towel as a dreamy expression slipped over her face. "And Lordy, Lordy, wouldn't the two of you make some mighty pretty babies!"

  Blair was so startled by what Tillie said, she dropped a cup on the floor. Kneeling to pick up the pieces, she grumbled, "My goodness, Tillie, I don't even know the man, and here you have me married to him already!" Although her tone was scolding, it did not quite carry conviction. Blair could not help but think about what Tillie had said, though.

  Standing, she braced her hands against the back of a chair and chewed on her bottom lip, momentarily lost in her reveries. Her life was so chaotic right now, she certainly did not need a man like Adam Cahill to add further confusion. Even though she had tried desperately not to dwell on it, there was still the matter of the government opening Indian land to homesteaders. There was nothing she could do to prevent it from happening, but their lives would certainly be in turmoil for the next several months, or maybe even years. And if she expected to have peace in the family, she would have to meet with Warren within the next day or two and tell him the entire truth. Then, too, she needed time to forget about Albert, she needed time for her broken heart to mend.

  The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up and a startled gasp escaped her lips. Why, she could not recall Albert's features. His countenance was just an indistinguishable blur in her memory. Was this just her way of easing the pain? Or, could Adam Cahill be responsible for this sudden mending of her broken heart?

  Pulling her mind away from such thoughts, she muttered under her breath, "Good grief, what on earth has come over me? I don't even know the man,and here I am behaving like a moon-struck schoolgirl."

  "What did you say, child?"

  "Nothing, Tillie, nothing at all." She turned and busied herself, then glanced up when Warren charged into the kitchen with his usual hurried gait. He held the door open for Adam, who took longer getting up the steps.

  Warren knew if Adam's feet did not receive proper care, it might cause blood poisoning. While he had learned quite a bit about medicines over the years, his knowledge was more limited to livestock, whereas Blair had a natural flair when it came to doctoring folks. Even as a young girl, under her meticulous care, cuts healed without leaving scars, aches and pains quickly disappeared after people drank her concoctions, and once, she had even set a broken arm and the man recovered the full use of his limb.

  "Blair, I’d like for you to look at Adam's feet before we eat. They're so blistered and sore, I don't know how he's able to walk on them."

  She glanced at him sharply, started to protest, then thought better of it. Right now, she wanted to keep Warren in a good mood. Although, this ruined her plans. It would be next to impossible to behave with elegant dignity while kneeling at Adam's feet.

  "Of course," she replied in what she hoped to be a congenial tone.

  Caught unaware by his friend's suggestion, Adam began shaking his head. If this was what Warren had in mind when he asked him to back him up, he wanted no part of it. His feet hurt too badly to allow that girl to get her hands on them. "No, that's all right. I'll take care of them later."

  "I insist," Warren said adamantly. "It shouldn't take long."

  Blair knew when Warren's mind was made up, there was no force on earth that could change it. "You'll have to sit down, Mr. Cahill," she said, pulling a chair from the table. Kneeling, she wanted to laugh but dared not to upon noticing that his pants legs were so long, he was actually standing on them. And men claimed women were vain! Their boots had such high heels, they had to purchase trousers several inches too long in order to accommodate the extra height.

  With the girl kneeling at his feet and Warren staring at him exp
ectantly, Adam had no choice but to sit down. However, he did so after sighing heavily to show his reluctance.

  Tugging upwards on the pants legs, Blair stared in horror when she saw the pitiful condition his feet were in. She could only imagine the extent of his pain. Finally, she stammered, "I have never seen blisters like these! What ... in the world caused them?"

  "I guess I walked too much yesterday," he said gruffly, receiving a great amount of satisfaction when he saw her flinch at his words. Then, the girl slowly raised her head, her brows were drawn in an agonized expression and her eyes had an unnatural shine, as though she had blinked back a sudden rush of tears. Suddenly, Adam felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. The walk to the ranch had not caused his blisters and for some strange reason, he could not let her think she was solely responsible.

  Her voice had an infinitely regrettable tone. "Yes, I suppose you did."

  Adam cleared his throat and continued as though he had never meant to imply the girl had been to blame. "It's my own fault, though. Whenever I have to spend a lot of time in the saddle, I wear specially made boots . . . Warren, you probably know what kind I’m talking about."

  "Yeah, I wear them myself quite a bit, but I always change into another pair whenever I have much walking to do. The damn heels are too high for that."

  Adam smiled. "Usually, that's what I do, but I didn't have a spare pair with me. When my horse first went lame, I suppose I should have put on my moccasins, but I was too reluctant to wear them-always have been whenever I am in rugged country and the snakes have just come out." Wiggling his toes, he shook his head. "I must have walked ten miles or better over the roughest country in the Nation."

  Blair was relieved that she was not the cause of his wounds, but regretted the additional walking she had forced him to do.

  Tillie had been listening as she walked around them, setting the food on the table. "And you were wearing them boots like Mr. Warren wears?"