Free Would-Be Wilderness Wife by Regina Scott

that he was unarmed. McCormick was tall and lean, with close-cropped black hair and eyes the color of a worn gun barrel. He’d earned the reputation of being one tough character, having thrown off a rough beginning before riding down a number of outlaws in the two years he’d served as deputy. Drew didn’t like his chances if the lawman decided to take him on.
    Just then, one of the horses pushed forward, and Drew realized the rider was a redheaded woman. Though she wore a divided skirt so she could sit astride, the way she clutched the reins told Drew she didn’t have much experience with horses.
    â€œThen you won’t mind bringing her out, now, will you?” she challenged, sharp words softened by an Irish accent.
    Deputy McCormick relaxed in his seat. “Miss O’Rourke is particularly concerned about her friend.”
    Drew lowered his hands. “She’s staying in that cabin over there. If you’ll give me a moment...”
    â€œHold these,” the redhead commanded, tossing the reins at Drew. As he caught them, she threw one leg over the horse and slid to the ground. “I’ll just be fetching her myself.” She stalked across the clearing, gait stiff.
    â€œBit of a spitfire,” McCormick commented, watching her. His mouth hitched up as if he liked what he saw. “Still, there’s something to be said for a woman who speaks her mind.”
    â€œYeah,” one of his posse members threw out. “Spinster.”
    The others laughed.
    â€œBeing uppity seems to be a pretty common failing among those Mercer gals,” another commented, scratching his grizzled chin. “Doc Maynard said this Miss Stanway gave him an earful for some of his practices.”
    â€œShe gave us an earful, too,” Drew said, watching as Miss O’Rourke hopped up on the porch and rapped at the door. “And Ma is alive because of it.”
    That sobered them. McCormick touched his brim again in obvious respect. “I’m sorry to hear your mother was ailing, Wallin, but I’m glad to know she’s on the mend.”
    The door to the cabin opened. Catherine stood in the shadows, hair tumbled about her shoulders, his quilt bundled around her. Stocking feet peeped out from below. The sight hit him square in the chest, and breathing seemed impossible. One look at her friend, and she gave a glad cry and a quick hug before pulling Miss O’Rourke inside and shutting the door.
    Air found its way into Drew’s lungs. What was it about Catherine that made him react this way? He’d seen pretty girls before—not many and not often it was true, but still.
    â€œI thought you said she was stuck-up,” one of the men commented with a frown to his friend. “She looks mighty nice to me.”
    â€œI heard they started calling her the Ice Queen,” another agreed. “Looks as though the Wallins managed to thaw her out.”
    â€œMaybe that’s why she needs a quilt,” the deputy said with a warning look to his posse. “Either that or she’s trying to shield herself from the criticism of people who came West themselves to escape it.”
    His men had the good sense to look abashed.
    McCormick returned his gaze to Drew, shifting on the horse so that his gun belt brushed the saddle horn. “The way I figure it, what you do with the gal is between you and her, so long as she’s in agreement. If she has no complaints, we’ll be on our way.”
    Drew nodded, though he still didn’t like his chances, for Catherine had every right to complain. She’d been trussed like a calf on the way to market, thrown in the back of a wagon, jostled for miles, threatened with marriage to his brothers and exposed to a virulent fever. Though the last was probably common in her line of work, she hadn’t even been given the opportunity to prepare. If she voiced those concerns to the sheriff’s deputy, Drew didn’t like