Nights with the Outlaw. Lauri Robinson
And you aren’t going to, she reckoned. It didn’t matter, not out here. Drifters often roamed through her acreage on their way to parts unknown. Usually, she’d offer a meal before sending them on their way. Once in a while she’d offered one a chance to earn enough provisions to see him to his next stop. Her instincts were good, and she trusted them. Clint Turnquist was no different than a dozen others she’d encountered.
Liar, her mind refuted.
Doreena couldn’t protest, and that muddled her usual straightforward logic. The anticipation running in her veins at having this particular stranger’s company for a bit longer confused her.
“Over there,” he said, drawing her attention to a patch of bramble brush.
She slid her long riding crop out of its spot behind the saddle. “Just get him between the two of us, then we’ll drive him home.”
As a team, they rousted the hog out of the underbrush, and once it was trapped between the horses, she tapped the pig’s rump with the leather tip of the crop. The hog attempted to jut sideways, but seeing Clint’s horse, quickly changed its mind. “Herding pigs is easy when there are two of you,” she said, “but with just one, it’s like chasing a bumblebee.”
He cracked a slight grin, and the humor sparking in his eyes made her breath catch.
Doreena kept tapping the pig, making it maintain a trot between the horses. She caught Clint looking at her more than once, and the way he’d quickly pull his gaze away had her insides quivering. She remained quiet, pondering the man a bit deeper, while the ride home went by without another mishap.
At the ranch, he dismounted and opened the gate as she guided the pig into its pen. She was swinging out of the saddle when three fast shots rang out. Air swooshed out of her lungs as she suddenly hit the ground covered by the protective weight of Clint’s body. Stunned by his unexpected actions, she fought to breathe as Clint, still on top of her, pointed his pistol in the direction of the shots.
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