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POOR COWBOY SAVED A 22-YEAR-OLD APACHE GIRL — THEN THE WHOLE TOWN TURNED AGAINST HIM

Chapter 3

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No horse. No water canteen. No weapons except an empty leather bow case slung across her back, its strap snapped clean through.When his horse had drawn near, she had tried to stand. She had pushed herself up from the red dirt, her dark eyes flashing with a sudden, wild defiance, her fingers clawing at the earth. She had made it two agonizing steps toward him before her legs gave out completely and she collapsed face-down into the sand.Jake could have turned his horse around. He could have ridden back to his fence line, found his two calves, and forgotten he had ever seen a shape in the wash. Most men in Silver Creek—most men in the entire territory—would have done exactly that and slept soundly that night.But he hadn't. He had dismounted, lifted her onto his horse, and ridden straight into town. Now that single choice was rapidly becoming everybody’s business.Near sunset, as the gray light inside the cabin turned to amber, the girl finally stirred.Her chest heaved. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then her eyes opened.They were dark—deep, liquid obsidian—and instantly alert. For half a second, absolute terror flickered across her features. She realized she was in a wooden room, smelling of carbolic soap and unfamiliar men, and her body went rigid as iron. Her fingers twitched toward her belt, searching for a knife that wasn't there.Jake raised his hands slowly, palm out, keeping his movements smooth and unhurried."Easy," he said softly, his voice low and soothing, the way he spoke to a skittish horse in a tight corral. "Easy now. You're safe."She stared at him, her dark eyes tracking every line of his face. Then her gaze shifted to Dr. Reeves, who was sitting at his workbench rolling a bandage. Finally, her eyes darted toward the window, where the low, angry voices of the crowd outside still rumbled through the evening air.Her expression hardened. The panic vanished, replaced instantly by a cold, impenetrable wall of reserve. She knew where she was. She knew what those voices meant.Jake pointed a finger at his own chest. "Jake."She watched him carefully, her chest rising and falling in slow, controlled cycles. She didn't move a muscle for ten seconds.Then, slowly, her right hand moved up from the canvas cot and touched the center of her chest."Naelli," she whispered. Her voice was cracked, raw, like stone grinding on sand, but clear."Naelli," Jake repeated, making sure to enunciate the syllables softly.Something subtle changed in her dark eyes. It wasn't trust—trust was a expensive commodity in the territory, and neither of them could afford it. It wasn't relief, either. But it was a small spark of surprise that a white man had bothered to listen to her name and repeat it without a sneer.Jake reached for the tin cup, poured fresh water from the pitcher, and handed it to her.Naelli took the cup with both hands, her fingers brushed against his, and she drank deeply, letting the cold water spill down her chin onto the gray blanket.That should have been the end of it. A stranger rescued from the wasteland. A life pulled back from the edge of the grave. A simple act of human decency performed between two people under a hot desert sky.But Silver Creek had already decided otherwise.

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POOR COWBOY SAVED A 22-YEAR-OLD APACHE GIRL — THEN THE WHOLE TOWN TURNED AGAINST HIM

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