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  “Mr. Levens, please—”

  He glared at Claire. “If you stick your nose in my business again, I’ll break it.” He turned to leave, jerking Anna’s arm so hard she fell to her knees.

  Claire reached out to help her stand. Larry slammed his palms into Claire’s chest so hard it slammed her against the wall of the house. The impact knocked the breath out of her.

  Black dots danced through her vision, and pain radiated outward from her spine. She heard a shout from across the street then the sound of feet thumping across the snow-covered road.

  A second later, Boyd Grayson vaulted her porch steps with a murderous rage blazing in his eyes. He grabbed two fistfuls of Larry’s coat and drove him into the wall beside her. The house shuddered, and Claire sagged away from the men. “If you’ve hurt either of these women, I’m going to break your arms, mister.”

  Larry swung his fist into Boyd’s side just as Sheriff Grayson mounted the steps. Several patrons from Boyd’s bar stood in the street watching.

  “What’s the problem here?” the sheriff asked, helping Anna to her feet. He was tall like Boyd, but broader and thicker-limbed, a virtual bull of a man. Larry stood a good three inches shorter than Boyd and the sheriff, but he looked like a wild dog with his fur up and his teeth bared.

  “I came to get my wife,” he said, shoving Boyd away from him.

  “You ladies go inside,” the sheriff said, but Claire and Anna were rooted by fear.

  Boyd stood firm and unyielding, like the sturdy wood columns on her porch. Power emanated from his tall, solid body as he glared at Larry. “Anna doesn’t want to go with you.”

  “She’ll go if I tell her to.”

  Boyd’s patrons crowded around the porch.

  “This isn’t your business, Sheriff. It’s between me and my wife.”

  “You’re trespassing on Mrs. Ashier’s property,” the sheriff said. “That makes it my business.” He slapped a handcuff around Larry’s wrist.

  “What are you doing?” Larry demanded.

  “I have a warrant on my desk requesting your return to Pittsburgh. “

  Larry wrenched his arm away and swung his cuffed wrist at the sheriff. The sheriff sidestepped the flailing metal and shot his fist up under Larry’s guard. The blow snapped Larry’s head back, but instead of buckling his knees, it enraged the man. He fought like he was fighting for his life, but Boyd and the sheriff out-muscled him. With an enraged growl, he lunged for Anna.

  The sheriff grabbed Larry’s wrists and dragged his arms behind his back. Boyd helped his brother take Larry to the floor. The sheriff pinned him with a knee in his back and finished snapping the cuffs on him.

  All three men were covered in snow when the sheriff hauled Larry to his feet.

  Steam left his nose in angry bursts as he glared at Anna. “I’ll be back.” He gritted his teeth as the sheriff and Boyd nudged him down the steps and marched him toward town.

  When they returned thirty minutes later, Claire and Anna were huddled near the kitchen stove, trying to shed the chill and fear that had left them both shaking. Anna was holding a snow pack to her cheek.

  “Are you ladies all right?” the sheriff asked.

  Claire nodded, but she knew Boyd could see through her bravado.

  The sheriff’s keen eyes studied Anna, as if checking for injuries. “Larry won’t be bothering you again,” he said. “I’m taking him back to Pittsburgh tomorrow where he’ll be tried for the murder of two men.”

  “Two?” Claire cut her eyes to Anna.

  Anna lowered her lashes. “Larry shot the deputy sheriff when the man tried to take him to jail,” she said, her voice quavering.

  Claire sighed, wondering how much worse the situation could get. “I’m afraid I have another problem, Sheriff. Someone ransacked my house this afternoon while Anna and I were marching.”

  “Why didn’t you come get me?” Boyd asked, his scowl full of concern.

  The sheriff frowned and followed her into the foyer. “Was anything stolen?”

  “Not that I can tell, but as you see,” she said, gesturing to the papers spilling from the open desk drawers, “I haven’t put things in order yet.”

  She took Boyd and the sheriff through the house to show them the extent of the intrusion then returned to the foyer.

  “What were they looking for?” the sheriff asked.

  “I have no idea,” she said, feeling exhausted. “I have no valuables and they didn’t take my money.”

  The sheriff scanned her desk with a distant look on his face that suggested he was taking in the whole of her house, thinking, mulling over the possibilities of who had done it and why.

  Boyd eyed the door and splintered frame. “I’ll get some wood and tools to fix this,” he said, wrenching open the door before bolting into the cold.

  “What’s the trouble between you and Larry?” the sheriff asked Anna.

  She lowered her hand and sighed. “I didn’t want to stay in our apartment alone while he was in jail.”

  Claire bit her tongue. She understood Anna’s hesitation to pour out her troubles to the sheriff, but who else was going to help her? Larry had made it painfully clear that Claire would pay a high price if she continued to shelter Anna. They had no choice but to ask the sheriff for help.

  Anna may be too frightened to reveal the ugly truth about her brute of a husband, but Claire wasn’t. “Larry is a violent man,” Claire said. “He has hurt Anna, and could easily kill her the next time he beats her. Believe me, there’s always a next time, Sheriff.”

  Sympathy filled his eyes. “I don’t condone Larry’s treatment of you, Anna, but by law, a husband has the right to bring his wife home if he chooses.”

  Claire slapped her palm on the desktop with a loud crack. “No law should force a woman to stay with a man who beats her.” She clenched her fists, suddenly furious enough to march to the jail and hit Larry over the head with a liquor bottle. “Anna cannot go back to that bully. If he dares darken my door again, I’ll... I’ll shoot him.” Speaking the words felt wonderfully freeing, but inside, Claire trembled with doubt. She didn’t know how to defend herself against a violent man like Larry.

  She’d been defenseless in the face of Jack’s rage. Larry terrified her. Boyd’s anger had frightened her too. If he ever turned that rage on a woman, the damage would be worlds worse than Jack had ever inflicted. Yet, Boyd’s strength had saved her and Anna this evening. He’d protected her.

  “You ladies stay inside tonight. Your marches have upset a lot of men, especially this week with your push to get their licenses revoked. Someone has broken into your home, and it may not have been Larry. I’m going to rent a room from you tonight so I can keep an eye on things.”

  She exchanged a glance with Anna, who looked relieved. Having the sheriff under her roof would allow Claire to sleep better too. “That would be generous of you, Sheriff. I’ll make up the blue room for you, but you certainly won’t be paying for it.”

  “Generous of you, too, Mrs. Ashier. I’ll have my deputy keep an eye on Larry tonight. I’ll be back later this evening.”

  The instant he stepped outside, Anna burst into tears, “Larry will find a way to come back here. He will. And he’ll kill me next time.”

  After Boyd finished repairing Claire’s door he went to the kitchen needing to be certain the women were both unharmed. “Where’s Anna?”

  “In bed with a snow pack on her shoulder.” Claire crossed to the stove.

  Boyd could see that her gait was stiff and she favored her left side. Anger surged through him and he ached to avenge the insults Larry had inflicted on the women. “Why did you put yourself in the middle of this mess with Anna?”

  She stared at him as if he’d gone daft. “How could I not? I couldn’t turn her away any more than you could stop from interceding when Larry was dragging her off the porch.”

  “It’s different for a man to step into a dangerous situation like that. It’s foolish for you to put yourself in
jeopardy.”

  “Foolish?” She planted her hands on her hips and winced as if it pained her. “What is foolish about giving a beaten woman a safe place to stay? What is foolish about trying to help a friend?”

  “Claire,” he said, trying to reason with her, “you can’t save Anna. She must have family who can help her.”

  “She’s ashamed to tell her family about Larry.”

  “Why should she be ashamed? Larry is the one with the shameful behavior, not Anna.”

  “No woman wants to admit that her husband beats her and that she made a dreadful mistake marrying him.”

  “Anna’s life is more important than her pride.”

  “Of course it is, but if Anna goes to her family for help, they’ll have to defend her. She’s afraid that Larry will hurt them.”

  “What about your safety? Why didn’t she consider that when she led Larry to your door?”

  “She had no idea that Larry would have her followed. He didn’t know me. Anna thought we’d both be safe here.”

  “Well, you’re not.”

  “I know.”

  “You need to send her to her family, Claire.”

  “I can’t.”

  He clenched his teeth to bite off his curse. “You’re getting involved in a situation that is going to get you hurt. Or worse. Dead.”

  “I know exactly what the danger is. That’s why I’m giving Anna a place to stay. If I don’t, it’s quite possible she’ll end up dead.”

  Boyd froze. How could she know the danger unless...? He pinched the bridge of his nose, sickened by the thought, furious with the situation and Claire’s stubbornness. “I’d like to talk with Anna tomorrow.”

  “I won’t change my mind about letting her stay here.”

  “Well, I’m afraid Larry, or one of those men you’re irritating with your temperance nonsense, will try to change it for you.”

  He stepped outside, his body shaking with fury. The woman was just begging for trouble. She had just tangled with a murderer. She could have been killed!

  Worry tightened Boyd’s chest and he knew he was in trouble. He cared too much for Claire, had gotten in too deep to walk away from her and her volatile life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At five o’clock Tuesday morning, Claire wrapped her heavy velvet robe around herself and crept down to the kitchen. Shivering, she opened the thick iron door of the stove and quietly built up the fire, wanting to have the kitchen heated and coffee on before the sheriff or Anna got up.

  It was the least she could do in return for the sheriff’s kindness. He came in late last evening while she and Anna were getting ready for bed. He’d apologized for keeping her waiting then checked the doors before going up to his room.

  The aroma of fresh coffee wafted from the percolating pot as she huddled close to the stove, loving the quiet morning and the homey feel of her grandmother’s kitchen.

  But she no longer felt safe here.

  How long would Larry stay in jail this time? Would he send one of his nasty friends to fetch Anna? Knowing he or one of his cohorts could beat on her door at any moment terrified her. Boyd was right. Even if Duke planned to transport Larry to Pittsburgh for trial and incarceration, Larry wasn’t going to give up and go away. She’d lain awake most of the night imagining every horrible possibility. What if he broke out of jail again and came back when the sheriff and Boyd weren’t here?

  She moved closer to the stove, regretting the dreadful mess she’d gotten into. How she longed to return to the safe, solitary life she’d begun building before Anna came seeking sanctuary. But that life hadn’t included her new friendship with Anna, and Anna’s desperate need.

  She couldn’t ask Anna to leave.

  If her financial situation didn’t improve, though, she and Anna might find themselves on the street. Without a paying boarder soon, she wouldn’t be able to afford wood for her stove, or coffee for her breakfast.

  The crackling fire and the percolating coffee soothed her. She would face each day as it came, and do what she must to survive. Pray to God she would never have to sell her grandmother’s house; it was the only home she’d known in many long years.

  The hurried tread of feet on the oak floor startled her. She expected to see Anna rushing into the kitchen, but to her astonishment, Sheriff Grayson stepped through the doorway, revolver drawn, eyes squinted against the lantern light illuminating the room.

  He wore ankle-length cotton drawers and nothing else.

  Over six feet of partially clothed man stood before her. She was so stunned, she could barely speak. “G-good morning, Sheriff.”

  His eyes widened and he spun to face her. “I beg your pardon,” he said, his voice gruff from sleep. “I heard a noise down here and thought someone was forcing the door.”

  He was so apologetic that she couldn’t stop her smile. “That would explain the gun.”

  He lowered his revolver to his side. “I apologize, Mrs. Ashier. Excuse me.” He started to back out of the kitchen, but a thump from the woodshed snared his attention.

  He took two steps toward the door and it swung open.

  Boyd stepped inside, jostling an armload of wood. Confusion marred his handsome face, but when he saw Claire standing by the stove in her robe, he nearly dropped his armload of wood. His eyes registered her state of undress then flew to his brother, who was still standing in his drawers. “What is going on?”

  The sheriff glanced at Claire then back at Boyd. “We were about to have coffee,” he said nonchalantly.

  She opened her mouth to correct Boyd’s obvious assumption, but the sheriff winked, as if warning her to let him do the talking.

  Seemingly unconcerned, the sheriff crossed his arms over his wide chest and braced his bare feet on the floor like a sailor on rough water. His chest and arms were small mountains of muscle and hair, his stomach tapered and flat, his legs long and solid-looking in his snug drawers. The sheriff was a gorgeous man and would have been the sensible choice for Claire’s attention, but he wasn’t Boyd.

  Discomfited by the awkward situation and her own thoughts, Claire’s face burned.

  Boyd’s snort of disgust told her he’d caught her looking at his brother.

  “Shut the door,” Duke said. “You’re letting in the cold.”

  Boyd shoved the door with his foot and just missed closing it on Sailor’s tail as the dog squeezed inside. Tension sparked from every inch of him. She glanced at Duke to see why he wasn’t trying to clear up Boyd’s suspicions, but he just reached down to scratch Sailor’s ears.

  “How you doing, clumsy?”

  He was purposely baiting Boyd. She would have never imagined the sheriff like this, but here in her kitchen he wasn’t a lawman. He was a brother. Duke was playing games and taunting his sibling and making her like him even more.

  The spark of humor in the sheriff’s eyes delighted her. In that moment, she sensed the two of them becoming friends. She understood quite clearly what thoughts Boyd was having that put the ferocious scowl on his face, but she wasn’t offended. She enjoyed making him wonder about the situation, about her. He deserved it after flaunting Martha Newmaine on his arm at the cantata.

  Boyd dumped the wood into the kitchen bin, but Claire was watching Duke, whose wide shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

  She pursed her lips to hide her own smile.

  Murder filled Boyd’s eyes when he stood to face his brother. “Why are you standing in Claire’s kitchen half dressed?”

  Duke shrugged. “Because I wanted a cup of coffee?”

  Boyd gritted his teeth and took a step forward, but Sailor started barking as if they were under attack.

  “It’s all right,” Duke said to the dog. He glanced at Boyd and burst out laughing. “Calm down, hothead. I took a room last night to make sure nothing happened.”

  Boyd glanced between them, his fists clenched. “That doesn’t explain why you’re standing in her kitchen in your drawers.”

  “I hear
d you rummaging around in the woodshed and thought it wise to investigate,” Duke said.

  Anna rushed into the kitchen, her eyes brimming with worry. “What is happening—oh, my...” Her eyes widened as her gaze swept the perfect form of Sheriff Grayson.

  Boyd’s face grew as purple as Anna’s house robe and he glared at his brother. “Get some clothes on and let’s take a walk.”

  Unperturbed by Anna’s perusal and Boyd’s ire, Duke chuckled and left the room.

  After his brother was dressed, Boyd followed Duke out of Claire’s house, wondering what was going on between Duke and Claire.

  “She’s one gorgeous lady.” Duke’s smug grin made Boyd want to rearrange his brother’s teeth.

  “You’re doing a fine job of irritating me this morning.”

  Duke threw his head back and laughed. “I knew it.” He chuckled again and ignored Boyd’s scowl. “You’ve finally met your downfall, little brother. Radford and Kyle are going to love this.”

  “My attraction to Mrs. Ashier is nothing more than my usual romance.”

  “We’ll see.” Duke headed across the Common. He chuckled three more times before Boyd elbowed him in the side.

  “I want you to deputize me.”

  “I have a deputy.”

  “I’m serious, Duke. Deputize me, and I’ll take a room at Claire’s.”

  Duke halted in the middle of the Common. “Now why would you want to do that?”

  “To keep Claire from getting hurt.”

  “And to seduce the lovely widow perhaps?”

  Boyd clenched his jaw. “If we weren’t in the Common, I’d punch you for that insult.”

  “I have a duty to protect those women. I’m not going to put a fox in the hen house.”

  “All right, I care about her. For some reason Claire feels a need to help Anna. She’s fool-headed and too stubborn to listen to reason.”

  “Claire seems like a smart lady, Boyd. Maybe she just doesn’t agree with your reasoning.”

  Boyd jammed his cold hands into his coat pockets. “She’s gotten herself into a mess with this temperance nonsense, and now she’s refusing to send Anna home to her family.”