“I’ll keep you fed, angel.” His insides squirmed as she blushed a delectable pink. The same pink he’d seen every time he called her angel. He wasn’t likely to stop. “And I wish you’d call me Bobby.”
“It’s not proper, and you know it, Mr. Morgan.” Naomi took another bite.
“You can clean the bones like no man I know.”
She blushed again and his groin tightened. Damn, she was about the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“I have a healthy appetite,” she said, her tone haughty. “I’ll not apologize for it.”
“Who asked for an apology?” He tossed his bones in the fire.
“It’s difficult to eat without a plate,” she said as she followed suit, flinging the remains of her meal into the flames. She stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a drink from the creek.”
“I’ll come along.” He rose. “The sun is settin’ and I don’t want you wanderin’ about in the dark.”
“For goodness’ sake, Mr. Morgan, it won’t be pitch dark for another hour or so. I’ll be perfectly fine. The creek can’t be more than five hundred yards away, and Barney’s hobbled down there.”
“I said I’m going with you, and that’s that.” He held out his arm.
And was beyond surprised when she took it.
Was she beginning to believe he meant her no harm? Maybe it was time to tell her again.
“Angel?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to know how sorry I am about all this. Really. If there’d been any other way—”
“There was another way, Mr. Morgan. See the system through to the end and let justice prevail.”
“The system?” He stopped walking and turned Naomi to face him. He stared into the violet depths of her eyes as he grasped her arm hard.
She shrugged to free herself but he held fast.
“There ain’t no system in these parts, darlin’. There’s a sheriff who don’t know shit”—Naomi cringed against him—“and a dirty jail cell in a podunk town where men shoot each other for sport on a regular basis.”
“Mr. Morgan, there is a judicial system in this country. Our forefathers—”
“You’re naive if you think our forefathers had the foresight to understand what goes on out here. This is the west, angel, not Philadelphia.”
“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child.” She shook her arm free, but only because he allowed her to. “I was graduated from our county school, you know. I even took the state teacher’s examination and was awarded a second grade certificate. I spoke on the history of our country at a school exhibition.
I know whereof I speak.”
Bobby shook his head. “You know theory, Naomi. Theory. Here’s the reality. Dugan didn’t even have law the last time I passed through, and that was nigh six months ago. You say I should trust the system. What kind of system locks up an innocent man on the word of five drunks? And where’s the courthouse? You got no judge in Dugan. You’d have to send for one. How long would that take? How long am I expected to rot in that cell for a crime I didn’t commit?” He kicked at the dirt. “I got things to do. They took my guns and my horse. My property. Left me without means to support myself.”
Naomi’s eyes widened, and black circles formed around her amethyst irises. Bobby wanted to kick himself. He’d gotten his dander up and he’d said too much. He knew what was coming.
“Just how do you support yourself, Mr. Morgan?”
Bobby cleared his throat. He wasn’t ashamed of the way he made his living. He didn’t steal—not any more—and he’d given his share to help others over the years. He provided a valuable service to society.
“I hunt criminals,” he said. “For money.”
He waited for her reaction. He never apologized for his line of work, but for some unexplainable reason, he cared what Naomi might think.
“So you’re a bounty hunter.”