Free Outlaw's Bride by Lori Copeland

surveyed the damage, outraged. “The hoodlums!”
    She was about to thank Johnny for protecting her when she noticed how his dark eyes followed the riders’ trail of disappearing dust. She frowned when she saw his features harden.
    “Mr. McAllister?”
    His eyes remained on the fading riders.
    “There…is there something you’d like to say?” Perhaps now that he’d almost been killed, he would drop his guard and offer a solution to this horrendous problem.
    His gaze went to the littered porch floor. “Green beans are getting cold.”

Chapter Fourteen

    S haken to the core, Ragan checked on the judge a second time and refilled the bowl with beans before they set off again. The evening was calm, the sinking sun a fiery glow in the west. Rattled though she was, Ragan tried to relax.
    “I meant to put salve on your hands,” she apologized as they walked to the Ramsey homestead. “Those pricked fingers will be sore by morning.” She bit back a grin. Needles could be painful when used incorrectly.
    “I don’t need any salve.”
    “Too girley, huh?”
    “I don’t use salve.”
    She glanced at him impatiently. He never thought he needed anything, much less attention. He was being obstinate again and for no reason. If he didn’t need salve for the nicks, then why had he flinched every time she passed him a bowl during supper? You’d think a man could accept a little concern without feeling threatened.
    “How long have the raids been going on?”
    Ragan was so surprised he’d initiated a conversation that it took her a moment to organize her thoughts. “Um…years. They had lessened for a while, but all of a sudden they’re back in full force.”
    “And the reason the town does nothing to stop it is?”
    “Not enough able-bodied men to fight them off.” Ragan shook her head. “We’ve tried, but there are too many different gangs and the men fear that if they’re shot their families will have no one to lookafter them. Folks have simply lost the will to fight. We’re all terrified they’ll burn the town down. Most of us have to live and work here. We can’t afford to lose everything.”
    “A shootist isn’t going to solve your problem.”
    She glanced at him. “Do you have a better idea?”
    “It’s not my place to have an idea.”
    “Saying a shootist isn’t going to help is having an opinion.”
    “Having an opinion is not the same as having an answer.”
    Conversation ceased, and they walked in silence until they turned the bend in the lane leading to the Ramsey place.
    “What you said about having no family—is that true?” The smell of honeysuckle hung sweet along the path in the fading twilight.
    He was quiet for so long she wondered if he would answer. Finally, he said, “Does it matter? I’m the one serving time, not my family.”
    “No, it doesn’t matter. I just wondered who you are. Family’s important to me. Is your family here in California?”
    “You could say that.”
    She could say that and still know nothing about him, and it wasn’t likely she ever would. Still, she knew she had no right to pry. Even a man serving time was entitled to his privacy.
    “Papa pastored the church here in town until a couple of years ago.” He didn’t respond, but she went on anyway. “The gangs burned his church, and then our house and barns. We were able to build the house back, but they just torched it again. Then my brother died, and after seeing everything go up in smoke a third time, Papa broke. He just couldn’t take any more.”
    She didn’t know why she was telling him about her problems. He clearly wasn’t interested, but talking made her feel better. She didn’t need him to say a word, just listen. Once again, the town had chipped in and built the house back, only smaller this time.
    “Mama died ten years ago, so with Jacob gone, it’s just me and my sisters. The money I earn working for the judge isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep food on the table and clothes on