Free Wildfire in His Arms by Johanna Lindsey Page A

“I didn’t shoot you.”
    â€œWell, if you’re counting still standing here alive, I didn’t slit your throat last night either. But you’re going to be getting a ridiculous amount of money for me, so the least you could do is one tiny favor for me first.”
    She squeezed out a few tears to help her plea, but he merely raised a black brow. “Don’t bother, tears have no effect on me.”
    He didn’t display any disgust at her effort to manipulate him. No amusement either. Was he really so dead inside from his line of work that he’d lost the ability to feel? Not her, and she grinned now to show it. “Well that’s a relief. I detest them m’self. Had to try though, you understand?”
    â€œCertainly.”
    â€œBut here’s the thing. It’s been nearly two years since I left home and I haven’t heard how my family is in all that time. Nor was I able to let them know I’m still alive. The one time I snuck back, there were deputies at our house, so I couldn’t get close enough to talk to my grandmother. I even waited in the woods for my brother to go hunting, but some other men from town showed up instead, so I couldn’t linger there when Johnny might not come that way at all. He never liked hunting like I do. I couldn’t risk sending a letter with my name on it to Bingham Hills either, or have one sent back to me, and I never met anyone I could trust to do it for me—until now.”
    Still pointing his gun at her with one hand, he quickly unhobbled her horse with the other. “I don’t stay in one place long enough to receive letters, and you likely won’t be in Helena long enough to receive one either. Mount up.” He took her reins.
    â€œI wasn’t asking for you to do it. Luella’s the first friend I’ve made since I left Texas. She sent my letter off well over a month ago. I expected her to have my grandmother’s reply the other day when I visited her. She didn’t, but she could have it now. Can we at least stop by her place to see if she’s got that letter for me—and give me a chance to say good-bye to her?”
    He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either, so she held her tongue as they started down the hill. She was surprised he hadn’t retied her for the ride into town and that he thought holding her reins was enough to keep her behind him. Maybe it was, but she was still thinking of ways to get around that. If she spurred her horse forward into a gallop to pass him, the reins would be ripped from his hold—if he was still holding them. He might have tied them to his pommel instead. She couldn’t tell with his broad back in front of her. Of course her back would make a large target. Or he might shoot her horse instead.
    As if Noble could read her mind, she leaned forward to rub his neck and whisper, “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to bring bullets our way.” She wouldn’t mind sending them toward Degan though.
    He’d attached her rifle to her saddle, probably because he didn’t have a ring for it on his saddle. Gunfighters didn’t bother with rifles, and she would bet her horse that Degan Grant had never needed one to hunt his own food. He probably stopped to eat in every town he came to, while she’d had to avoid most towns. She was so sure the rifle was empty that she didn’t even bother to check it. But she leaned back carefully to check the saddlebag where she kept her extra ammunition. Her hand came out empty. He’d even thought of that! But she could ride close enough to him to bash him over the head with the rifle . . .
    â€œGet your hat and make no mistake. I’m not going to kill you, but I don’t have the least qualm about putting a bullet in your leg if you try to run again.”
    Max looked down at the ground and saw her hat lying there between them. She hadn’t