“I already have them,” she answered.
And then, without hesitation, he shot. A telltale rattle shook for half a second before going silent. The horses startled, but Josie held them both and spoke reassuringly to them. Turnip rose from his crouch and stepped merrily toward Josie, as if nothing was amiss. Meanwhile, Arlen bumped the snake with the toe of his boot, and, seemingly satisfied that it was dead, holstered his pistol and returned to Josie and the horses.
“How did you see that?” she asked. They’d been so far away, and surely he hadn’t heard the rattle over the sound of his horse.
“I didn’t,” he replied, reaching down to scratch Turnip between the ears. “I once had a dog, a good sheepdog named Ernest. And he cornered a rattler in just the same way. When I saw Turnip, I assumed what might be happening, and, well . . .”
“You saved his life,” Josie said, more awe in her voice than she would’ve liked to admit. She loved Turnip fiercely, more than Arlen could have known. If that rattler had gotten him . . . She shuddered as she slid down from Gretchen, sat right on the ground, and took the beagle in her arms. He panted loudly in her ear, and she giggled. “Thank you,” she said as she looked up at Arlen.
A soft, genuine smile crossed his face. “You’re welcome. He’s a good dog.”
Taking full advantage of Josie fawning over him, Turnip rolled over, showing his belly. She laughed and gave it a good rub. Arlen knelt beside her, grimacing a little as he braced himself against the ground with his left hand.
Josie’s hand stilled on Turnip’s belly. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Not recently, anyhow.”
Faith’s advice to learn more about Arlen and his past flitted through Josie’s mind. She tucked her legs more comfortably beneath her and asked, “What do you mean?”
He hesitated. “It’s a somewhat grisly story.”
“Do I appear to be the sort of girl who would faint at the mere mention of blood?”
Arlen smirked at that. “Not at all.” He paused, and then launched into his story. “A few months ago, I was handling a situation in which a group of men—outlaws, really—had claimed a ranch for their own.”
“Handling a situation?” Josie repeated.
“Professionally. As a sheriff.” Arlen tilted his head at Josie’s puzzled expression. “Surely your brother told you that I served as a county sheriff in Wyoming Territory?”
That explained his self-assurance and his easy way with just about anyone he met. Not to mention, she thought wryly, the way he sought to claim whatever he wanted as his own. “He told me nothing at all about you, as you might remember.”
“Right,” Arlen said, as if he’d just remembered that fact. “Well, I was sheriff of Albany County for four, nearly five, years. This particular ranch had sat empty for a handful of months. Its owner waffled on whether he’d return east or continue to make a go of it. He’d decided to return when he found this group of men had moved right on in and claimed the land as their own. It was my job to remove them.”
“And you did.” It wasn’t a question. Josie already knew that Arlen wouldn’t have settled for anything less than what he’d set out to do.
“We did, me and my men. At the cost of a bullet in my shoulder, though.”
Josie bit her lip, unable to imagine the pain he must’ve felt. “Is that also how you got your limp?”
He gave her a pained smile. “No, that was the first time I was shot, not too long after I started as sheriff. That one was a road agent robbing a stagecoach.”
“The first time. How many more timeswerethere?” Josie couldn’t fathom continuing in a line of work that resulted in one being shot at multiple times.
“Three,” he replied.
Her eyes widened.
“When I saw the advertisement from the ladies of your town, I thought it sounded like a good opportunity. I didn’t act upon it immediately, but I kept thinking of it, until one day I gave in and sent a letter. A letter, I suppose, that your brother picked up for you.”
“You presume correctly,” Josie said, her irritation at George’s interference in her life not entirely gone, despite how amiable—and interesting—Arlen had turned out to be.
“Tell me,” he said, settling himself so that he sat closer to her. “Why are you so decided against marriage? I understand not wanting to marry a man you don’t know, but what if you did know him? What if you grew to care for him?”
Josie felt herself go warm. She turned her attention to Turnip, but Arlen’s presence, so close to her, was all-consuming. “I resent having to turn my half of the ranch over to a husband. It’s my home, my parents’ home.” She paused. “I loved them both so much, even though my father could make me furious sometimes. This place was everything to them, and it is to me too. I’ve lived here, and worked so hard I’ve bled and sweat into this earth. It’smine. It’s all I have, save for George.” She dared to look up at him then.
His face was but a few mere inches from hers, so close, she could smell the leather scent of his clothing.
“But what if your husband didn’t wish to take the property from you?”
