Free Charlene Sands by Bodines Bounty Page B

what was the nature of his crimes? Surely, not murder, like Metcalf. If her grandmother had been honest, then her father had been a thief and his worst crime had been stealing her mother’s heart. “And what if you don’t have to?” she asked. “Would you take him alive?”
    Bodine stroked his beard again, running his hand down his face several times. “Take him alive? He’s meaner than a wild dog, Emmy. He’s already killed three men and he’s wanted in two states besides California. I doubt he’ll lift his arms in surrender.”
    Emma feared for Bodine’s safety, though she thought him capable of protecting himself. It was just that…she cared for him, perhaps more than she should. “He’s dangerous.”
    “It’s a dangerous job, but I’m careful and good at what I do.”
    Then a thought struck and Emma looked at the shoulder she’d tended, trying to visualize the injury again through Bodine’s wool shirt. “He was the one who shot you, wasn’t he?”
    Bodine winced. “I tracked him thirty miles outside of Cedar Flats and almost had him. But it was too soon after Josh’s death. I let my grief get in the way. Next time, it’ll be different.”
    Again she shuddered at Bodine’s determined tone and the coldness in his eyes when he spoke of his brother’s killer. “You’d be chasing him right now if it wasn’t for me.”
    He blew out a breath and admitted, “Actually I’d planned on healing up some with a bottle of whiskey and a wo—” He stopped up short and if Bodine could possibly look chagrined, it was at that moment. He darted his eyes away to look out the window. “No matter.”
    Color rose to Emma’s cheeks as she took up the dinner plates. “I see.”
    And the irony struck her immediately. Bodine was healing now, snowbound in a cozy cabin with a jug of whiskey and a woman.
    Only, it was clear Emma couldn’t entice a man like Bodine. Yet, for a quick, foolish moment, she wished she could be exactly the kind of woman he needed.
     
    “I’ll take the chair tonight,” Bodine said, grabbing the saddle blanket. “You get the bed.”
    Emma set her hands on her hips, prepared for this argument. She’d witnessed the resolute look on his face as he tossed the blanket onto the big hide-covered chair. “Bodine, I’m half your size and—”
    “I hadn’t noticed,” he said with slight amusement, sending her another one of his lazy looks that took her in from head to toe. His scrutiny made her edgy, even if it were more lighthearted than before.
    “Don’t be smart, Bodine.”
    “Don’t argue with me.”
    “I plan on arguing. The chair fits me better than you. I can curl up and be fine.”
    His amusement faded quickly and Emma received a dose of Bodine’s temper. “No. You’ll freeze your behind off out here.”
    Emma’s ire rose, too. She didn’t appreciate his stern tone, as if he were reprimanding a child. She guessed it was cabin fever, but it felt real good to lift her voice and release her frustration. “Well! You just speak your mind, don’t you?”
    “Don’t know any other way.”
    “You’re still healing. You need a good night’s rest. It’s ridiculous for you to sleep away from the fire tonight.”
    “Damn it, Emmy. I slept on the chair this afternoon.”
    “Yes, you did. And you were twisted up and uncomfortable.”
    “And you’d sleep that way, too, only you’d be frozen as well!”
    Emma closed her eyes. She’d never met a more stubborn man. It was clear that Bodine was accustomed to getting his way, but she couldn’t back down. Whether he thought so or not, he was still weak, and she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep knowing he was cold and achy all night. “This is all very simple.”
    “Simple?” Then Bodine’s stormy eyes brightened and he lifted his mouth into a cocky grin. “Well, I won’t let you sleep on the chair and you won’t let me, then what are you saying?” He softened his tone. “You want to sleep in that big bed with me,