battleship at full steam. "Because when my husband gets gunned down by a vigilante granger, I shall see that your head rolls!"
Sid blinked.
Cass coughed to hide his amusement. He suspected no woman had ever talked to Sid in such a manner, especially in his office.
But Poppy's temerity was born from confidence. Petite and slender, with a mature beauty that could still turn men's heads, the 41-year-old social maven thrived in her role. As the wife of a rich and powerful senator, she didn't resort to eye-batting, tears, or swoons to control "lesser men"—which was the term she used to describe anyone who ranked lower than Baron in public office.
"In precisely one hour, my husband is due to give his speech at the sodbuster's convention," Poppy announced in an imperious manner. "Considering the way tempers are simmering in this town, Mr. Cassidy's guns may be the only things that stand between my dear, beloved Baron and a bushwhacker's bullet. I want you to release Cass this minute. This minute, do you hear me?"
Collie never missed a stroke with his whittling knife. "Don't put yourself out on my account, ma'am."
Cass nearly snorted java up his nose.
"Now see here, Mrs. Westerfield." Sid didn't look half as amused. "Cass and Collie got charged with vandalism and three separate counts of disturbing the peace by the Adjutant-General himself—"
"Rexford Sterne retired from the Ranger Force nearly a month ago," Poppy fired back, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "To challenge my husband's re-election campaign, as you'll recall. Unless, of course, you've been apprised of some palm-greasing skullduggery that Baron should bring to Governor Ireland's attention?"
Sid's bearded, sun-weathered face grew as red as his suspenders, which strained across a beef-fed belly. Ranger or no, Sterne was a man to be reckoned with in Texas. Nowhere in the Lone Star State did the former Adjutant-General hold more sway than in his birthplace of Lampasas. Ever since Baron had gotten the notion to prove his clout by "taking the waters" and wooing Lampasas voters away from Sterne, Sid had been walking a tightrope between two looming shadows: the Ranger's and the senator's.
"Now Mrs. Westerfield, don't go putting words in my mouth," Sid backpedaled. "Retired or no, Rexford Sterne is still called general around these parts."
"Erroneously." Poppy sniffed. "It wouldn't surprise me one bit if he was encouraging those granger assassins you're incapable of controlling in this town."
Sid looked like he wanted to knock her on her bustle. "Allow me to reassure you, Mrs. Westerfield. I hired six extra deputies to supervise the Texas Volunteer Guard as they patrol the convention and the hotels. You are perfectly safe in Lampasas. And so is Senator Westerfield."
"Forgive me if I don't share your faith in your pack of amateur tin-stars." Poppy wrestled a folded paper from her reticule and tossed the document, along with a $20 gold piece, on Sid's desk. "You're wasting my time. My husband and I are due at the luncheon. Release Mr. Cassidy."
Sid grunted when he read the letter. He even looked relieved. "Looks like you got yourself an attorney, Cass. Mrs. Westerfield's attorney," Sid added archly, turning an oversized key in Cass's cell door.
Cass darted a measuring glance at Poppy. She stood like an avenging angel, limned in her triumphant corona of sunbeams beneath the block-style letters that read, Marshal's Office, on Sid's window. When Cass's gaze collided with hers, her great bosom heaved. He was quick to notice the flush rising in her cheeks. A man like him didn't need much imagination to guess what a love-starved matron like Poppy wanted in exchange for her favor.
Next, Cass glanced furtively at Collie. Apparently, Poppy hadn't bothered to post the boy's bond. The kid sat cross-legged on the limestone floor of the adjacent cell with his half-whittled critter and his ring-tailed bunk mate.
"An attorney, huh?" Cass settled more comfortably on his cot
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes