Harry, admiring the setting sun, relaxed against the porch's white post, his head still aching where the skillet had hit him. Glancing at Ginny's thoughtful profile as she gently rocked the porch swing, he wondered exactly what the relationship was between her and Braeden Campbell. Sure, they were engaged, but they acted more like brother and sister than two people in love. And unless he was mistaken, Miss Sarah Bishop and Mr. Braeden Campbell had eyes for each other.
But then, that wasn't any of Harry's business. He had simply come to help out a family friend, and he would be gone in the spring.
"Where do you want me to sleep Miss Weasley?" he finally asked.
The last glint from the setting sun made Ginny's red hair glisten with a jewel-like life of it's own. She rubbed the top of her nose and anxiously looked at him. "I don't think it would be proper for you to stay in the house with Momma Kate and me. Folks in town would find out and start talking."
"We don't want that now do we?" Harry smiled mischievously, and his left eye protested in pain.
Ginny, raising her chin, stared at him with matronly reproof. "No, we don't."
He cocked his head toward the yard. "So I guess that leaves that big oak tree or the barn."
"Take your pick."
"Well I guess I'll take the barn."
Straightening her blue work shirt, she stood; her prim expression vanished and uncertainty took it's place. "Don't get me wrong Mr. potter. I… do appreciate your helping me with the ranch. I… it's just that a lady can't be too safe when it comes to her reputation."
Even in the dim light, Harry saw the faint rush of color to her cheeks. "Now Miss Ginny, please don't think for one minute I would do anything to harm your reputation. The way I see it, our parents were such good friends that I have a responsibility to you. I guess I'm more or less your guardian angel."
"My intended wouldn't appreciate you saying things like that." She raised her chin again.
"I didn't mean anything by it. You know I've got a lady back home. I came out here thinking of you like my sister. I-"
"I didn't have anything to do with… my brother…"
"About out arranged marriage?"
Ginny nodded curtly.
"I didn't have anything to do with it, either. I guess when you were born, your brother and my pa just got carried away and decided we should get married. Well, nobody bothered to ask wither of us about it, and it's very clear we think otherwise. So I say we should leave it at that. You've chosen your husband and I've chosen my wife."
"Braeden doesn't know about that part of the letter yet."
"I gathered that. No man worth his salt would let me stay here if he knew." He ran his hand through his hair.
"Well, you told Braeden you were staying whether anybody agreed to it or not. Didn't sound to me like you gave him much of a choice."
"I did promise your brother, and a gentleman always stands by his word."
"You're right. I imagine Braeden would do the same."
"Well, I'll get you some blankets, Mr. Potter," she said, bustling through the front door.
Harry picked up a nearby match, lit the lantern sitting on the porch railing, then stepped off the porch, lantern in hand. His worn boots scuffed against rain-deprived grass, and the lantern's hinges squeaked with every step he took.
When Harry had arrived this morning, all four of Ginny's hired hands, David Cosgrove, Gunther Peterson, Tyrone Burks, and Mac Dixon, had been out branding cattle. Harry met them when they came in for lunch, and he strongly suspected that one of them could be involved in Ginny's theft and arson.
However, he had not revealed his thought. Instead, as long as his aching body allowed, he had tried to clean up around the burned barn. He sensed that Braeden was not very happy about his staying with Ginny. What man would be? He wondered in Braeden suspected Ginny's hired hands.
Harry, entering the sprawling barn, raised the lantern to illuminate the building. The loft was well stocked with fragrant hay; six occupied horse stalls lined the back wall. A tin milk can sat against the barn's side door, which led out to the cow pasture.
When the door creaked open behind him, Harry stilled in fear, Out of instinct, he whipped his new Colt Peacemaker from it's holster, spun around, and had the weapon cocked before he stopped.
Ginny stared at him like a startle kitten.
Smiling tightly, he let out a pent-up breath and placed his gun back in his holster., "Sorry, I'm a little jumpy with all that's gone on. You startled me.
"Pulling guns on people can be dangerous."
"You're right, but not pulling guns on people can be dangerous, too."
"I guess I'll call out your name from now on. You'd have a hard time explaining to Braeden-"
"I don't shoot carelessly, if that's what you're implying," Harry snapped. Anger tightened his chest as a horrifying memory washed over him, the same memory that had slept with him every night for a year. He could not forgive himself.
"Here are your blankets," she said and then walked toward him.
Teeth clenched, he took the bedding.
"I didn't mean to imply… It's just, you scared me."
Harry nodded and took in the smell s of hay and leather.
Would he ever recover? Would the guilt ever end? "It's okay. I guess we're both a little on edge."
"I guess." She glanced around the barn as if she wanted to say something else but didn't quite know how to say it.
'Did you notice the full moon tonight?" Harry asked. The rising moon's mellow glow spilled in from the open door, ignited Ginny's waist length wavy hair, and softened her freckled cheeks.
Ginny Weasley was not a blazing beauty he had seen on the East Coast or even the kind of his fiancée, Emily McCall, was. "Fresh" was the word to describe Ginny. Fresh, like a cool tangy breeze wafting in from the ocean. He chuckled to himself-an ocean breeze with a stubborn streak. And Harry, a featherlike caution stirring in his chest, imagined Ginny's pristine charm could twist into a man's heart, into his very soul, and forever transform his world.
But Miss Ginny Weasley 's pristine char, was none of his concern for his obligation lay with Emily McCall. Fate had decided that, and nothing or no one would ever change his pledge of duty. However, there were some things a man, regardless of his obligations, found hard to ignore.
"I…I hope the coyotes don't get to noisy for you. They sometimes get rowdy when the moon's full."
"I never minded a few Coyotes. It's the panthers I mind."
"I haven't seen a panther in a good six weeks. But Bug, my dog, doesn't like them either. He'll let us know if one shows up."
"Where is Bug?"
"On my way out to the barn, I saw him sniffing around the west woods. He makes his rounds every night then settles down under the house."
"Good. I want him close. Sometimes a dog can save your life."
Nodding, Ginny hesitated. "Momma Kate seems to think it's an awful shame for you to sleep in the barn, but…"
A slow easy smile tugged the side of his mouth. So she was at least slightly concerned about his well being. Harry was beginning to think she didn't care whether he lived or died. "Don't worry about me Miss Ginny. I've slept in a barn or two before."
Ginny grinned, an obvious relief in her relaxing brows. "I hoped you wouldn't take it personally." She rubbed those freckles again, and Harry expected them to fall off at the rate she was going.
"Nothing personal taken."
"Well goodnight then, Mr. Potter."
"Good night."
She walked toward the door.
"oh, and Ma'am…" he started.
Ginny turned back to face him.
"My name is Harry." Why did he say that?
"I don't think Braeden would-"
"Of course not. And we wouldn't want to upset Mr. Campbell." And where had that come from?
"Ginny, blinking once, peered at him in cold appraisal. "what's your intended's name?"
"Emily McCall."
"Would you want Miss Emily McCall getting' too…too friendly with another man?"
"Of course not, I apologize. I shouldn't have said that. I guess I'm slightly irritable from being so sore."
Warm concern replaced the coldness in her eyes. "Are you going to be all right? Momma Kate said we could probably scratch up an old tick for you to sleep on instead of those blankets."
"No, don't go to all that trouble. These blankets will be fine. I'll be fine. It's just going to take me a few days to get over that beating. It seems the closer I get to thirty, the longer I stay sore."
"Well, all right," she said, then closed the squeaking door behind her.
Shaking his head, Harry wondered what he had gotten himself into. Seemed like every time he opened his mouth, he had said the exact opposite of what a gentleman would say. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day for conversation, but right now he was beat .
Harry spread out one of the blankets on what he hoped was the softest pile of hay. Just as he was ready to remove his gun belt, the door slowly creaked open again.
Ginny walked in, her slender hand pressed to her heart. "Mr. Potter, somebody's prowling around the burned barn."
All remnants of sleep vanished. Harry double-checked his holstered Col, the turned out the lantern. "You stay here Miss Ginny," he whispered, then rushed outside.
Harry, fear in his gut, cold sweat trickling down is back, tiptoed in front of the barn. Did the intruder have a gun? He sucked in the smell of Texas dust and cherished what could be his last breath.
In seconds he reached the barn's corner, flattened himself against the rough wood, and quickly surveyed the yard. Just as Ginny had said, a shadowed figure lurked near the burned barn, digging. Like a ghostly gravedigger, a man rhythmically placed a shovel deep into the earth, emptied it, the went back for more. Harry slowly pulled out his Peacemaker.
Scanning the yard, he searched for a better vantage point and found one: Kate's summer log kitchen, to the right of where the man dug. It was in the barn's shadow and was the perfect place from which to take aim.
With a quick breath, he inched around the corner. Then he heard something behind him. A sniff? Glancing back, Harry peered down into a pair of round eyes. 'What are you doing here? I told you to stay in the barn." he hissed.
Ginny raised her chin. "This is my barn and my property. If I want to follow you, then I'll follow you," she whispered.
Just what Harry had suspected, obstinance. And if Miss Ginny Weasley were as strong as her will, that would be a problem. But as things stood…
Without another word, he replaced his gun, grabbed her small waist, and picked her up with little effort.
Eyes widened and a mouth opened in shock were the last things he saw before he threw Ginny over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Put me down!" she demanded, beating his back and squirming like a cornered animal.
In six easy, silent strides, Harry hauled her back to the barn like she was a half-empty bag of corn, for that's about what she weighed. Then with equal ease he deposited her on her backside into a pile of hay.
"Just what do you think you are doing?" she whispered, trying to scramble to her feet.
"I'm protecting you from yourself!" Harry reached for the long rope hanging from a nail and gently pushed her back into the hay. He jerked her wrists together and tried to place them at her ankles.
Ginny broke free and tried to grab the rope. "Give me that!'
Harry, gritting his teeth, regained his grip on her wrists and jerked them to her ankles. Then, on wrap, two wraps, three wraps, and the knot, just as if she were a calf he had roped.
"You-"
"Shh!" he commanded, "and don't move."
Trying to suppress the anger gripping his stomach, Harry tiptoed back to the barn's corner. She could have gotten herself killed, he thought.
Once again, his Colt ready, he peered around the corner. No shadowed figure, no digging, nothing, just as if he had been dreaming only seconds before.
Bug's bark muffled from the woods' depth shattered the silence.
Doubling his fist, Harry hit the first oak he passed, glad for the punishing blow of flesh against bark.
"Women!"
Knowing that tracking the man was pointless, Harry went after him anyway. He followed the direction of Bug's bark across the north pasture and toward the waiting woods. Scrubby dry grass and fragrant bitterweeds tore at his boots as Bug's barks grew closer. A breeze wound through the thick evergreens, oaks, and hickories. Shadows, foreboding and suspicious, lurked among the foliage. Harry slowed his pace. No sense taking any chances.
Then, out of nowhere, a small ball of fur raced past his feet. Bug was close behind, his coonhound bellow proudly proclaiming that he was on the trail.
Harry's eyes rolled in frustration. Some bandit is on the loose, and bug's chasing a rabbit.
A quick scan of the woods and pasture, then Harry gave up on tracking the man, who was long gone. Besides, Harry didn't like the woods at night because of the shadows that brought back too many memories. Memories splattered with Zach's warm blood.
His now stinging eyes went blurry, but a hard, determined blink held the tears in check.
He had not cried at the funeral; he would not start now.
Knowing he should go release Ginny, Harry trudged back toward the barn. I don't imagine she's very happy with me, he thought. But his father had promised Bill, and Harry refused to let her get hurt.
Ginny, her heart pounding out angered beats, struggled against the rope chafing her wrists. When Harry Potter comes back, he better be ready for a fight! She scanned the dark barn, looking for something, anything with which to cut the rope.
Bug, barking excitedly, neared the barn, and raced across the south field. Then a man's slow, crunching footsteps approached and halted outside the door. Ginny held her breath, hoping the man was Harry.
The barn door slowly creaked open to reveal an ominous shadowed figure who slowly approached with the brush of boots against hay. Ginny's stomach clenched in terror as she opened her mouth, ready to scream.
"I wasn't surprised when I didn't catch the intruder, but your staying quiet, Miss Ginny, now that's a surprise," the intruder said.
Relief, warm and comforting, flowed through her veins, which was quickly followed by white hot anger. "Harry Potter, you untie me right now! Do you hear me? Right now!"
Chuckling, Harry bent over her bound arms and legs, and, with one quick jerk of the rope, she was free. But before he had a chance to straighten, Ginny slammed her open palm against his cheek.
Ginny gasped; Harry stilled. And the two stared at each other nearly nose to nose in dead silence.
She had never slapped anyone before in her life, and now hot, accusing tingles spread from her palm to her wrist.
"Maybe next time, you should double your fist so I might feel it." Harry finally said, a genuine, infuriating quirk to his lips.
"Oh, you…you" Ginny stumbled to her feet. "I own this land you're standing on, and I'll have you remember it! And if you ever, ever do anything like that again, I'll have Constable Parker throw you off this property for good.! Do you understand me?"
"I was only trying to protect you!"
"Well, I don't need that kind of protecting!"
"Than why did you ask me to stay?"
"It wasn't so you could tie me up in my own barn!" Ginny's chest heaved with every churning breath, and she turned to stop toward the ajar door. Then, with more power than she dreamed she possessed, she slammed it behind her with a resounding boom.
Wincing, Harry whistled softly as he gingerly stroked his left cheek. Her slap had connected right under his bruised eye. He had tightened his gut to stop himself from yelling when she delivered the blow.
Yet now he laughed, a soft rumbling laugh that started deep and refused denial. Miss Ginny did have spunk, and that was something he admired in a woman. Earlier he compared her to and ocean breeze with a stubborn streak. Now Harry knew he had underestimated her. Ginny had hurricane potential. For the first time in his life, Harry felt a cold, coiling jealousy slither into the pit of his stomach…a jealousy of one Braeden Campbell.