"Now do you understand? You can't stay here," the marshal said. "It's too dangerous."
If nothing else, she'd made one decision since Caleb died. Never again would a man tell her what to do. Whether she was right or wrong, she would make her own decisions. "That's where you're wrong, Marshal. I'm not leaving." She glared at him, daring him to argue further.
He leaned forward, trapping her gaze with his. Gold flecks twinkled out of his hazel eyes, and he was close enough that she noticed a small chip out of one of his teeth, the only flaw in an otherwise perfectly white set. And lips that she sensed would be both gentle and demanding all at the same time. She couldn't keep her eyes off them.
"Tyler Boone has a reputation as one of the most vicious men in the state," the marshal went on. "Once he finds out Caleb's dead, you're his only lead to the money. He won't take kindly to you holding out on him."
Maddie laughed. He must be joking. "In the first place, I'm not alone. My mother is here with me. She's quite ill, but she's still very capable. And in the second place, take a good look around, marshal. Does this place look like I have any money?"
The marshal turned away from her and looked out, and Maddie followed the direction of his gaze. Then she turned her attention back to him, noticing his brow crease in a frown. Surely she'd finally made her point.
His gaze swept the yard, and for a moment she was a little embarrassed at the disrepair of the homestead. The chicken coop needed fixing, the barn roof leaked like a sieve, and the paint on the front porch had peeled off in places, leaving the bare wood to the mercy of the Wyoming climate. One of the porch stairs was cracked, and if she wasn't careful where she stepped, one of these days she'd fall right through and probably break her leg.
Finally, he turned back to her. "Even so, he'll be back. And if you don't tell him where the money is, he'll kill you. You need me, and I intend to protect you and your mother whether you want me to or not. It's my job."
She glared at him. "Wrong again, Marshal. I don't need you to protect me. I don't need anybody. I can take care of my mother and myself quite well."
A hint of a smile quirked the corners of his lips. "I'm sure you can. But right now I'm in charge. I want Tyler Boone. And I'm not leaving here until I get him. If you insist on staying here, stay out of sight."
"I will not. I told you, this homestead takes work, from morning until night. I don't have time to stay indoors in case Caleb's brother shows up here. This is my land, and I have every right to shoot trespassers."
She reached down and picked up the rifle. Somehow, feeling the cold metal in her hand gave her courage. "Right now, you're coming very close to taking a bullet. If you want to catch Tyler, do it somewhere else. This is a big country. You can set up camp anywhere you please, as long as it's not on my land. Now get out!"
"No." He stood up then and moved towards her. Her heart began to pound. Why she would react this way, she didn't know, but she didn't like the feeling one bit.
"I mean it," she repeated, louder this time. "I'll shoot you right where you stand."
"Sorry, ma'am. I'm not leaving. So you'd better just fire that thing and get it over with, or put it down before you hurt yourself."
The man was daring her to fire! Of all the arrogant, egotistical--
She couldn't shoot a man. Lord knows she'd had reasons to in the past, but even then, she couldn't bring herself to take a life. Damn him if he hadn't seen right through her bold talk and recognized just what a coward she really was.
"Fine," she ground out. "You can stay. But you'll earn your keep. There's enough work around here to keep three men busy. There's oats and hay in the barn for your horse, and you can sleep in there, too. Supper's at six o'clock. Sharp."
With a final glare at being outmaneuvered, she turned and stomped into the house, giving the door a heavy shove to make sure it slammed behind her.