CHAPTER 8

Troy escorted Gabriella from the house towards his work place.

He said good morning to the people passing them and horses with carriages trundled down the main road, kicking up dust.

Ryder skulked by them and tipped his hat to Gabriella but he seemed to be taking heed to Troy's warning for the man didn't stop to converse for which she was grateful.

She clutched his elbow a little tighter and he checked on her, seeing her accustoming herself to this new bond between them. Accustoming herself to being on his arm.

"Where is your home?" She asked as they passed a few town houses to head towards his office.

He smirked. "None of these lovely places," he admitted. "My little shack is around the back."

"Can I see it?" She wondered.

He pursed his lips. "Are we courtin'?" He asked back.

She frowned. "We can't…" she denied. "I'm your prisoner…"

He lifted his brows. "That's hardly true any more."

She conceded he was right. Last night when he had captured her, she was free and she knew it. Free to make her own choices, free to leave if she had really wanted. But she had chosen to stay there, locked in his arms while he showed her how special he could make her feel.

She stopped walking and turned toward him. "Then you want me to be your lady?" She asked.

He smirked.

"I think I made that plain obvious." He countered.

She sucked in a breath. This was all too much, too much to think about, too much to imagine. She felt a warm palm bring her face up.

"Don't you start worryin' now," he teased.

She smiled apologetically.

"It's too soon," she vocalized her thoughts.

"Too soon for what?" He wondered.

She swallowed. "Making love…"

He smiled and checked about them, leaning down to steal a kiss.

"I'm not talkin' about that," he assured. "I'm just talkin' about making this official."

She darted her eyes to him. "How?"

"I'll file papers to have your name cleared," he offered easily.

She o'd her mouth. "What?"

"You can work with me on the 'Children of Mexico' campaign and you can stay with Taylor while I move back home," he suggested.

"Troy…" she began her wave of dissent, but a townsperson interrupted her.

"Sheriff Bolton, how lovely to see you walking with a woman!" Poppy Miller sang as she stopped before the couple.

Gabriella blushed shyly and leaned into his side.

"Mrs. Miller," Troy tipped his hat. "This is Miss Gabriella Montez," he introduced.

Poppy smiled at the shy young girl.

"How do you like it here in Tennessee?" The lady asked her.

Gabriella looked up to Troy to check she should reply back and he smiled bemusedly and nodded his encouragement.

"It's beautiful, Mrs. Miller," she took the name Troy had addressed her with.

"The Sheriff certainly has a smile on his face in your company," Poppy teased.

Gabriella blushed again. "As do I," she offered gracefully.

Poppy laughed. "I'll let you young things finish your walk," she said as she moved away and Gabriella swallowed nervously at her exit.

"She's going to tell everyone about us…"

Troy merely grinned. "Yep."

"Doesn't that bother you?" She beseeched.

"Nope…"

"It should!" She argued as he moved them off again.

"Why should it?" He challenged.

"I'm Latina and living in a whore-house," she presented. "Your reputation-"

"I don't care," he admitted. "I know it don't look proper and you're all about propriety, but Gabriella, I want to walk with you," he assured. "I don't do things like I did to you last night very often you know," he added. "I want people to know."

She ducked her head at his mention of their night of sensuality again. She felt the same. She wanted to walk with him, too, but their courtship could cause trouble here and she worried for him. She decided not to speak those concerns aloud as they came into his office.

"Okay, let's get this place cleared," he instructed. "We have a plan to make…"

/

"Sheriff, I have a crime to report!" A puffed out Gregor Halford stepped into the office and immediately straightened. "My apologies, I wasn't aware a lady was present," he said of Gabriella who was busy tidying papers behind Troy who worked at his desk.

Troy smiled. "She's my secretary and my lady," Troy told the man.

Gregor nodded. "Perhaps we could step outside?" He suggested of the female presence.

Troy obliged, rising and putting his hat on to join the man on the porch.

"I was at the whore house the night before last," Gregor shared in whispered tones. "I left the following afternoon but I noticed something missing…"

Troy's brows rose. "You didn't leave until the afternoon?" He checked. That wasn't usual for Taylor's customers.

The man ruddied. "I'm widowed, forgive me," he blustered.

"Alright, so what did you notice missing?" Troy asked, leaning his fingers on his hips.

"My pocket watch…It's a family heirloom," he added.

"And when did you notice it missing?" Troy wondered.

"Not until this morning when I went to put it onto my waistcoat," Gregor explained.

Troy twisted his lips.

"Anyone could have gotten to it between yesterday afternoon and this morning, Greg," Troy familiarized with the man.

Greg shook his head. "I live alone."

Troy sighed and wiped a hand down his stubbled face.

"I heard that the Latina- your lady friend- I heard she just joined the house recently…" Greg venture nervously.

Troy drew his shrewd gaze upon the man. "I'll look into it," he assured.

Gregor stood for another moment.

"Is there anything else?" Troy checked.

The man swallowed. "I hope for your sake it's not her."

Troy pressed his lips together and watched the man walk away.

"Me too," he murmured to himself. "Me too…"

/

The look on Troy's face as he stepped back inside instantly had Gabriella on edge. She stood tall and looked him in the eye.

"What's going on?"

Troy gave her an apologetic wince.

"One of Taylor's clients has lost his pocket watch," Troy shared. "Actually not lost...he claims it got stolen yesterday at the house."

Gabriella darted him a look. "I wasn't at the house yesterday."

He sighed. "I know."

"I was with you." She added defensively.

"I'm not accusing you," he assured.

"Aren't you?" She arched. "It seems to me you are…"

"He knows you're new," he admitted. "He has it in his head that you've stolen it."

Gabriella frowned. "And do you believe him?" She asked outright.

Troy gave her a long look and knew in his heart it wasn't her who had taken the damn thing, but what could he do? He had a job and he did it well.

"I'll have to question you," he conceded. "No matter what I believe."

She sucked in an indignant breath. They were supposed to be courting! This morning was supposed to be a new start for them both! If he questioned her then she may as well accept she would never be the kind of woman a Sheriff belonged with.

She lifted her chin. "Fine."

He stepped closer, as if wanting to reach out to her.

"What would you have me do, 'Brie?" He asked, shortening her name but the familiarization grated on her.

"I'd have you do exactly as you say," she assured in clipped tones.

"I have to follow procedure," he argued.

"Of course," she agreed.

"Don't look at me like that," he tempered, coming over and grasping her upper arms.

"Kindly unhand me," she stretched her neck to jut her chin.

He blinked. He wanted to handle her more than he liked to admit but this little stone in their wheel was going to put paid to anything of that kind, he realized. He sighed and let go.

"I'm sorry," he said, for touching her, for having to go through the motions. "I have to question everybody who was at that house."

She nodded tightly and sat down opposite him at the desk to answer his questions.

Questions he already knew the answers to.

/

Gabriella figured her life here was decided. She was ruined by a man's hands, rumoured to be a petty thief and assumed to be a whore due to her living arrangements and Mexican heritage.

She'd just experienced the shortest courtship known to man and she really didn't know what to do.

She had left Troy in his office to call in all of those who he needed to speak to about the pocket watch incident and she had walked away with her head held high. She could walk out of this town right now, but she would rather ride.

In Taylor's pantry she stuffed various food items into a towel and tied the edges, wondering if Troy would really miss Striker so much as she led the horse away from the house; much to the horse's bemusement. He kept turning and looking back for his owner and she kept assuring him she had consent to ride him alone.

Trouble was the damn animal was too clever and he refused to get a trot on as she mounted him once she had left the outskirts of the town.

She looked out on a horizon that for once frightened her. In her heart of hearts she really didn't want to leave but if Troy thought her capable of theft under circumstances that made it clear she wasn't then she had no choice.

There was no use courting a man who didn't trust her.

"Where you headin'?" A male voice struck up behind her with heavy hooves she hadn't noticed before.

She turned, half in hope that Troy had followed her, but her heart sank as she recognized Ryder cantering up beside her.

"Back home," she replied honestly, not sharing where that was.

He smirked. "You need an escort," he stated.

She shot him a look. "I've done worse than ride across a desert alone," she defended.

He nodded. "I'll bet…"

Gabriella frowned. So he knew, too. They all knew. Great.

"I'd rather ride alone," she broached.

Ryder didn't turn his horse away.

"You know, you intrigue me, little one," he began, making her bristle at his term for her. She couldn't help being small and it only reminded her of her precariousness out here alone without a man to protect her. Without Troy to protect her.

"I'm glad I could pique your interest," she barbed.

Ryder carried on regardless.

"You share your bed with the Sheriff and pass time with whores but you look as innocent as the day god made you…"

She darted her startled eyes to him. "How would you know?" She challenged, lost for what else to say.

"It's been a long time since I saw a woman that uptight," he commented of her tension and she swallowed down her urge to tell him to shut up. He had no business making something of her innocence. Innocence she had abandoned last night in Troy's arms. She could still feel his fingers, stroking her; still feel his kisses against her neck. She still ached deep inside for more. But more she would never get.

"You don't have to leave town if you had a fight," Ryder offered. "There are other men…"

"Like you?" She mused. Since one man had already touched her she didn't appreciate the thought of others following suit.

"I can be real nice to you," he promised.

"Thank you for the offer, but I really just want to ride alone," she insisted.

Ryder looked across at her. "You think you're gonna get far?"

She felt her hackles rise and prayed up above for help. Anyone, anything, just help. And it came. In the form of a Native.

She stared at the dark man with his long black hair and begged him to come closer on his horse.

"Hello!" She called urgently, steering Striker towards her potential saviour.

"Hello, beautiful woman," the Indian replied in his native tongue. Gabriella looked bemused but was grateful for his reply.

"Thank you for getting me this far," she twisted and told Ryder. "But I'll make the rest of the journey by myself."

Ryder looked at the native, then at her, seeing he was beat.

"Fine, have it your way," he reared his horse and galloped off, leaving a nervous Gabriella in the company of her Indian.

"Do you have somewhere I can sleep safely?" She asked, wondering if he would understand.

He nodded. "Follow me," he told her and turned and she did, for she didn't know what else to do.