IS HAND WAS JAMMED ACROSS HER mouth so hard her lips were crushed against her teeth. So much for screaming, Emily thought desperately. Twisting and writhing, she fought him, unable to break free.

For a split second, a jumble of thoughts spun through her mind. Was it John Armstrong? Had he somehow followed her and Joey? Or was this some enemy of Uncle Jake … or Pete … or Lester…?

Or just an outlaw passing through, looking to steal some money or a horse, or seeking a place to hide out? she wondered through the roar of blood in her ears. Or maybe there was more than one … maybe a pack of them, like wolves…

It didn’t matter, Emily told herself, struggling against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her, fighting the bile and the gut-punch of fear. Whoever this was, she wasn’t going to let him hurt that little boy sleeping in the back room. She’d stop him. Somehow …

Suddenly he began dragging her toward the barn, around the side, and with easy strength pushed her up against the wall. For the first time she had a glimpse of him: a big man, well over six feet, wearing a black Stetson and a gray duster that billowed about his powerful frame. He suddenly eased his hand from her mouth and pinned her against the barn.

“The Spoon gang. Answer me. How many are inside?”

Emily stomped down as hard as she could on his foot.

He grunted in surprise and for a moment his grip on her slackened. It was all she needed. She shoved at him and made a grab for the rifle. He held on without any apparent effort as Emily fought desperately to wrench it away.

“Get… off… my … land!” she gasped, still clinging to the gun, though it was clearly under his control. “I don’t know … who you are … or what you want… but if you don’t leave now, you’ll be sorry!”

He stared down at her and in the faintness of pearly moonlight she saw keen, storm-blue eyes that were colder than glaciers, set within a rough, unshaven face. His jaw was lean, his features sharp and handsome. Heaven help her, she’d never seen a man so handsome. He exuded an overall impression of strength and will and power, perhaps because he was so tall, she thought dazedly—taller than either Pete or Lester or Uncle Jake. But there was something more—something indefinable, something that breathed danger.

He looked like a man who always got what he wanted. A man who didn’t scare easily—if at all.

Not surprisingly, her threat didn’t seem to frighten him. In fact, after she voiced it, he visibly relaxed, though his grip on the rifle remained as firm as ever.

“You’re alone then,” he said softly.

“I… no. Yes. I mean, what makes you think that?” Emily blurted.

He yanked the rifle out of her reach with finality. “If someone else was here, you’d have screamed for help.”

“You told me not to.”

“Never yet met a woman who did what any man told her to do.”

“Especially a man who attacks a woman on her own property in the middle of the night!” Emily was about to kick him again, but one look at those intimidating eyes made her think better of it.

“This your property?” The stranger’s gaze narrowed on her. Even through the darkness, only faintly broken by the luminosity of stars and moon, he could see how pretty she was. Blue-black hair, wild and wavy, sweeping to her waist, a slender figure beneath that dark gingham gown, with mouthwatering curves in all the right places, and a face like an angel. But those smoke-gray eyes with sparks shooting out of them were pure devil. Not to mention that soft-looking mouth of hers that was temptingly parted and trembling just a little …

What the hell does this gorgeous woman have to do with the Spoon gang? he wondered, and then his stomach tightened. Don’t get distracted, he told himself. Or you’ll end up dead. Jake Spoon and the boys could still be hidden here somewhere and they’d shoot you in the back just as soon as look at you.

And this girl would probably fix them coffee while they buried you … if they bothered to bury you …

He jerked a thumb toward the cabin. “I have it on good authority that the Spoon gang is living here. So just who are you?”

“Who are you?”

Emily’s heart was still thundering like a runaway train, but some of the fear was subsiding. This was not that low-down cowardly bully John Armstrong, thank heavens. She didn’t know who he was, but at least he wasn’t after Joey. He was looking her over as if she were an apple he was deciding whether to pick, eat, or toss aside as wormy and beneath notice. Her chin came up. He had her cornered here, hemmed in, outsized and outmatched in strength—he had her gun, and she was alone—but she’d be damned if she’d let him see her snivel and cower.

“You heard me,” she repeated, icy as Mrs. Wainscott in her haughtiest mood. “Who are you?”

“I’m the one with the gun,” he said coolly, “so I reckon I’ll ask the questions.” He gripped her arm. “Let’s just go back to the cabin and step inside and—”

“No!” She wrenched free of his grasp.

“Something you don’t want me to see inside?” Those hard eyes pierced her. If she’d been naked, he couldn’t have studied her any more closely. “Or someone?”

“No!”

Suddenly, he had the rifle up, leveled in the direction of the cabin. “Then let’s go. You first.”

“They’re not here, really.” If Joey woke up and saw this man, saw the gun, he’d be terrified. “There’s no need to go inside,” Emily said desperately.

“I reckon we’ll see about that.”

He gave her a push toward the door. That’s when the moonlight glinted off something pinned to his duster—and she saw it. A star. A silver star.

Shock hit her like a brick. “You’re … the law!” Emily gasped. She stopped dead, fury sweeping through her. “I should have known!”

“You have something against the law?”

“You’re damned right I do. Get out of here. Get out right now.” Emily’s fists clenched. “You can’t just barge into someone’s home—”

“And here I thought you were inviting me.”

He had the nerve to smile, a cold, hard smile that made her long to punch him.

“I’d rather take a bullet than invite a lawman into my home.” Her fury was making it difficult to breathe. Her blood seemed to be on fire. The law.

“How dare you come here. My uncle served his time, damn you. Now he’s free to do as he pleases. You just leave him alone!”

Potent heat, all fury and passion, seemed to blaze from her. Those big gray eyes smoldered as if they would incinerate him with silver fire.

“Jake Spoon is your uncle?” he asked, forcing himself to concentrate on her words, not her beauty.

“I’m not answering any of your damn questions. Give me back my gun and go!”

“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

He caught her arm as she made a grab for the rifle. Even through the gingham, Emily felt the warmth and strength of his grip, though he didn’t hurt her. But he didn’t release her either.

“Let me go”

“I’ll think about it. Look.” Suddenly his voice sounded weary. And patient. As if he were a teacher speaking to a recalcitrant and not very bright child. “I just got back into town. I’m tired. I’m not in the mood to fight with you. I just want to ask your uncle some questions.”

“He’s not here. You’ll have to come back another time—maybe in daylight, out in the open, instead of skulking around in the dark, like a… a rat! Unless you’re too frightened to ride up and show yourself?”

A short laugh broke from him. Emily realized how foolish she sounded. From the swift, sure way she’d seen him move and the tough, dangerous glint of his eyes, he didn’t appear to be a man who was frightened of much in this world. Maybe of nothing.

“I learned early in this job to be cautious,” he said softly. “It’s what’s kept me alive.”

“Isn’t that a pity?” She glared at him, wishing he would let go of her. His touch was disconcerting. It wasn’t just that he was so strong, she thought, it was something else. Something indefinable.

In the darkness, he lifted a brow.

It annoyed her that he didn’t seem to mind her animosity in the least. In fact, he looked almost amused. But still wary, careful. Almost as if he were expecting someone to jump at him or shoot at him out of the dark. Something told her that if someone did, he’d be ready for it.

“The thing is, like I told you, I’ve been away,” he continued in a quiet tone. Without her even realizing exactly how he did it, he backed her against the barn wall again, his body hemming her in. “Just rode in this evening. And first thing, before my horse is even unsaddled, one of our citizens tells me Jake Spoon showed up in the general store. He was followed back here, to the Sutter place.”

“So? What of it?”

Her tone was defiant, but her heart was sinking down to her toes. Emily had been hoping against hope they could just kind of settle in, blend in, that no one would really notice or care that three members of the Spoon gang were setting up ranching outside of Lonesome. But if folks were already noticing—and following—and sending the sheriff…

“We don’t want any trouble.” She tried to control the quaver in her voice, but it escaped and she flushed, hating the sound of it.

The lawman’s cool blue gaze fixed itself on her face. “Folks in Lonesome don’t want any trouble either,” he said evenly.

Suddenly he released her arm. Then to her amazement, he handed her back the rifle. “You heard of the Duggan gang?”

She nodded, her fingers clutching the rifle, even though she knew he could take it away again if he chose to.

“They took over Lonesome a while back. The town hired me to clean them out. I did.”

“If you want a medal, go to the governor.”

For an instant she saw the quick spark of amusement in his eyes, then it was gone. His voice stayed even, maddeningly even. “Lonesome has been quiet since then—a nice, clean, upstanding town—real safe. Folks like it that way. So do I.”

“I’m really not interested—”

“So if the Spoon gang has any ideas about—”

“My uncle isn’t the head of the Spoon gang anymore,” she interrupted. “There is no Spoon gang anymore. We’re just a family looking to set up ranching. We don’t want any trouble either.”

“Jake Spoon and his outfit are bad news.”

“Not anymore.” Emily met his gaze squarely. A sudden gust of wind lifted her heavy hair and blew it across her face and she shoved it back with a hand that shook, but her voice was steady. “If you and the rest of the stupid town just leave them alone, leave us alone, you’ll find out that they just want to go straight and make an honest living.”

His lip curled sardonically. “Ahuh. And I own a parcel of land in a Mississippi swamp that’s just brimming with gold.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“And you are?”

She lifted her chin. “Emily Spoon.”

Emily Spoon. There was something spunky and alluring about the name, just as there was about her. How in hell did Jake Spoon end up with such a beautiful spitfire for a niece? he wondered, vaguely distracted.

“And who else is living here with you and your uncle, Miss Spoon?”

“I’m not answering any more questions, Sheriff. It’s late, I’m busy, and you’re trespassing on my land.”

At this, his eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. Emily took a step back.

“Got a deed for it?” the sheriff asked, an edge to his voice.

“For … what?” Every time he got close, she seemed to lose her train of thought.

“The land.”

“My uncle has one.”

“Tell him I want to see it.” The lawman’s tone was curt. The weariness was gone from his face and he suddenly looked cold again, harsh, like a man who’s heard too much, seen too much. “Tell him to come into town and show it to me. I have a few questions.”

“I don’t have any idea when he’ll be back.”

“Where’d he go?”

“That’s none of your business either.”

Emily met his hard penetrating stare for a full minute while the stars glowed clear as diamonds overhead. She’d been through a good many things in her life and dealt with all manner of people, but never had she encountered anyone with as determined and steely a gaze as this tall lawman with his dangerous good looks. She forced herself to meet those penetrating eyes, forced herself to keep her head high, her back straight. But she wanted to weep in frustration, because she’d hoped this would all be easy, and it seemed now that it was going to be hard.

Yet she wouldn’t weep in front of any lawman. Certainly not this one.

“It’s time for you to leave now,” she informed him stiffly.

He studied her a moment longer, his expression unreadable, and then touched his hand to his hat.

“Good night, Miss Spoon. If you know what’s good for him, you’ll see that your uncle brings that deed to town.”

Emily stood rigidly, refusing to answer, refusing to budge even as he strode off toward the trees near the little knoll.

So, she thought, her knees trembling beneath her skirt. He hid his horse far enough away so that no one in the cabin would hear his approach. Then he crept forward on foot, no doubt to scout out how many of the “Spoon gang” were on hand—and where.

A cautious man. And a smart one.

The worst kind of lawman, Emily thought uneasily. Her stomach was churning. Even now, she could remember the strength with which he’d snatched the gun from her, held her. Standing alone beneath the moon, she felt again the power in those muscled arms.

And heard the deep flat politeness of his voice.

Still she didn’t turn away, not until she saw him mount, glance back once more at her and at the cabin—and ride off, a shadowy figure in the moonlight, a man who sat tall and easy in the saddle, riding a dark horse, riding him hard.

It wasn’t until she slipped back inside the cabin and bolted the door with shaking fingers that she realized Joey had awakened while she was outside.

To her horror, she found him with his face pressed against the window, the shutters drawn back. He was barefoot and trembling, his skin so pale she caught her breath. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Don’t let him hurt me!” he sobbed. “Don’t let him, Em-ly, please!”

“Oh, Joey, no! No one is going to hurt you ever again—it’s all right!” Emily set the rifle down and enfolded him in her arms, drawing him away from the window. “There’s no danger—nothing to be frightened of. That wasn’t the bad man—it was only the sheriff, paying us a visit. And he’s gone now. He rode back to town. Didn’t you see?”

“Yes, but… but I thought—” He took a deep breath, still clinging to her neck with all his strength. “Are you sure he wasn’t c-coming for me?”

“I’m very sure. I promise you. You’re safe here, Joey. Very, very safe.”

Emily spent the next half hour silently cursing the lawman, even as she reassured Joey again and again that there was no danger. It wasn’t until she had fixed the little boy a glass of warm milk, tucked him back into bed, and sat with him until he fell asleep again that she realized Lonesome’s sheriff had come and gone, scared both her and Joey half to death, left her with a warning … and never even told her his name.