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  "So now you're keeping more secrets from me." She was only teasing. But his smile faded.

  "I am. There are things you don't want to know about me. Believe me." He positioned a nail and drove it through the board with two blows from his hammer.

  She pulled a nail from her apron pocket and drove it home in three. "Maybe I want to know."

  Love wasn't an emotion he felt often or easily. But once he did, he loved with his entire heart. Therein lay the problem. His love for Garnet couldn't protect either one of them from a broken heart; it was inevitable. And his love for her couldn't change the man he was deep inside, a killer, a man who made his living with a gun.

  He wasn't good enough for her, and he wasn't civilized enough. Not for such a woman of quality. How could he change his basic nature? He knew it was impossible, no matter how much he wanted to.

  He pulled another board into place and they nailed it down, and then another. Garnet tipped her face to the sky, squinting across the landscape. She looked as if she belonged here, a vibrant woman in a wild, untamed country. The breeze shifted through her hair, and the sun glistened against it like light on silk. His fingers ached to wind through those midnight curls.

  "Looks like we'll have the roof finished in no time. I smell more snow in the air." She didn't smile, and there was strain around her eyes. Strain he'd put there. "I can't wait to start putting in a real floor."

  "Not many women can do carpentry work."

  She squinted through the sunshine at him. "There was never enough money to hire out the work, so if the roof needed repairing or if a window leaked, I had to figure out how to fix it."

  "You have your own money now, and a lot of it. What do you plan to do with it all?"

  "This and that." She gave him a little mischievous grin. "What about you and all that gold?"

  "Probably invest it, I guess. Maybe give part of it to a few charities. I think Ben would have liked that."

  "You've given it a lot of thought." She fished in her apron pocket for a nail, bowing her chin.

  "The gold isn't the only thing I misled you about." His confession felt like dust in his throat.

  "So you've said." She hammered another nail into the board. "Are you going to tell me you're leaving town?"

  "Something like that."

  "Then what are we doing building a roof for this cabin?"

  "Because I don't know if I can leave." He reached for another board and drew it snug across the width of the rafters before he dug for more nails. "I don't know how I can leave you."

  "Oh, Wyatt." Great tears filled her eyes. She walked toward him on the new boards that creaked beneath her weight. Her lustrous hair billowed in the ever-present wind. "Whatever is wrong, you can tell me."

  Could he? He had to. There was no choice.

  "I'm not a prospector." The words squeezed past the tightness in his throat. "I'm a deputy marshal investigating a murder."

  "Of your brother?"

  "Yes." She was going to hate the deception. He braced himself, preparing for her rejection.

  "You didn't trust me?" she whispered.

  He swept off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. He tried not to look at her, didn't want to see the disappointment on her face. He stared hard at his boots. "I was just doing my job."

  "You're a deputy marshal. As in a lawman. As in someone with a steady income."

  Was that a smile he heard in her voice? The glowing sound of approval? "Yes. I have a dependable job and a regular paycheck."

  "And you aren't a prospector and never want to be one, not even in your wildest fantasies."

  "The only fantasies I have are of you." He shrugged. Maybe he shouldn't have admitted that.

  "I should be furious," she said in a thin, trembling voice. She stood tall and willowy, the wind whipping her waist-length hair and snapping her dress. "You could have told me the truth, Wyatt. I know why you couldn't trust me because it was your job to deceive everyone. I also know you would never lie to me under any other circumstances."

  "You have too much faith in me."

  "Not enough. I loved you when I thought you were a man without a job, without permanence in his life. I can love you more knowing that you are the kind of man I can believe in, maybe even marry."

  "I wouldn't say that, Garnet."

  Her mouth opened, closed, opened, but she said nothing more. She looked as if she were afraid, as if she didn't know how to say what was in her heart.

  She loved him. He could see it, the color of forever in her eyes.

  But it couldn't be true. She just thought she loved him. Wyatt barricaded his heart before he became too vulnerable. Before he began to believe in such impossible dreams and tried to reach them again. And failed.

  "You mean you don't love me enough to marry me?" Her hand flew to cover the locket hanging between her breasts, over her heart. Her chin trembled.

  Damn, he'd made her cry. He reached out, but she backed away. She raised her chin, and he saw wetness on her cheeks. She was all tough determination, at least on the outside. He knew inside she was as soft and sweet as cookie dough.

  "We should discuss our future." Pride firmed her chin. "I want to stay with you, Wyatt, but if you don't want me, then you should just say it. I know I tend to be a little pushy–"

  "A little?" he questioned.

  "And I tend to take over and run things–"

  "I hadn't noticed."

  "–only because I've never been able to lean on anyone for help. And I know I'm not pretty–"

  "You're not." That made her meet his gaze. "You're beautiful to me. And you become more beautiful every time I look at you."

  "Why don't you want me?" So much vulnerability shone in her eyes, soft as morning light, gentle as dawn.

  "I never said that. I just said I couldn't marry you. I'm sorry. It's just not something I can do."

  Heartbreak weighed down her voice and furrowed sad lines into her face. "You certainly aren't the only man who's had that opinion."

  Was her heart breaking at the thought of not being with him?

  Could it be? Could she honestly love him that much?

  "I can't marry you unless you know the truth about me."

  "I know everything that matters."

  "I am a marshall. I use a gun for a living. I see parts of life I can't always forget when I come home for supper. Things that haunt me sometimes in the middle of the night."

  "But you uphold the law. You make it safe for children to play in their yards and walk through the town to buy candy at the store. You arrest men who threaten people. You make it possible for towns to be peaceful, for families to live without fear."

  "I also kill." He was good at what he did, and he would never work another job. Probably because he'd endured violence as a child and wanted to make damn sure no one else had to live that way. Sometimes, it meant pulling a trigger and ending a life. Too many times to count, enough that he didn't always sleep at night.

  "You shoot criminals." Her certainty shone in her voice, true and unshakable.

  Couldn't she see it made him unfit for her? She, with her proper life and standards and reputation awaiting her back home in New York.

  A twig snapped behind him and Wyatt spun around, his heart slamming against his ribs.

  "Don't make a move, Tanner, or I'll kill you, you nasty bastard." Barrett Carson stood in the yard, sunlight glinting off the cold metal of his Winchester rifle.

  Damn. He should have been paying attention. But scolding himself wouldn't solve the problem. His hand inched toward his hip where his loaded revolver was holstered. "What do you want, Carson?"

  "The gold. I want it now." The hissed threat sounded as final as death.

  Wyatt felt Garnet's fear. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her, pale and tense. Her jaw was clenched tight. She might be afraid, but she was angry, too. Just like he was.

  His gun was strapped at his thigh, but Wyatt doubted he could draw in time. Carson looked to be pretty handy w
ith that rifle. Especially with his finger on the trigger. So he lied. "The claim has panned out, just like the others along this creek. By spring this place will be a ghost town."

  "You can't fool me, Tanner. The man who owned this claim before you took out bags and bags of gold. I didn't find any on him after he died, and that means you must have them. Show me where you stashed the nuggets."

  "I'm going to have to climb down to do it."

  "By all means." Carson edged closer. "But Garnet, you first. Tanner isn't going to try anything with a rifle pointed at you."

  Damn. Wyatt hated watching her go, hated that Carson had a gun trained on her. He escorted her to the ladder and held the top steady while she descended. She gazed up at him, a question in her eyes. She trusted him to protect her, to know what to do. He liked that. Very much. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had that much faith in him.

  "Throw down your gun belt first, Marshal Tanner." Carson laughed. "Yes, I figured out who you were. I saw your badge when I ripped apart your cabin."

  "Then you've also figured out Ben was my brother." He reached for the buckle and tossed the gun to the ground.

  "A lot of dead men have brothers. Don't worry, soon you'll be one of them."

  Wyatt slid down the ladder and turned. He didn't see the rifle swing, but he did feel it slam into his jaw. Stars danced before his eyes, his vision dimmed. He fought it, but the pain dropped him to the ground.

  "You shouldn't have let down your guard, Tanner." Carson laughed, standing over him in brand new boots, nicely tailored trousers, and a long coat that caught in the wind. "I know you've got the best paying claim this sorry little creek has ever seen. Probably better than half the digging down at Alder Creek."

  "Probably." Blinking past the pain, Wyatt spied his gun, not even three feet away, lying in the mud. If he could just get to it, he knew he could take Carson.

  "I noticed you haven't been spending much of that gold in town. A wise move, Tanner. I can only imagine what riches you've found."

  "Let me up and I'll show you." And put you in jail.

  Carson's eyes slitted. "Move slow, marshal. My finger is on the trigger and I can't wait to blow you away. Think of how I'll be able to comfort dear Miss Garnet when her lover is dead. She will have no one else to turn to."

  "Mr. Carson! As if I am the kind of woman who would consort with a criminal."

  Then, to Wyatt's amazement, Garnet slapped the murderer across the face with the flat of her hand. Carson stumbled, surprised.

  Damn. He couldn't grab his revolver in time, so he snatched up the hammer and aimed. The handle struck Carson in the wrist. His gun fired wild as it flew from his grip.

  "Oh, my gosh!" Garnet's distressed cry pierced through his mind, but already Wyatt was diving toward his holster.

  He unsheathed the revolver and thumbed back the hammer. He pulled the trigger as Carson grabbed his rifle. He fired again when the Winchester's barrel flashed.

  Pain drilled into Wyatt's head and the impact of the bullet flung him back against the side of the cabin. He knew he was hit, but one thing was certain. Carson had slumped to the ground with two bullets in his chest.

  "Wyatt!" Garnet's voice, Garnet's hands at his face.

  He shook the blood off his forehead. "Don't worry, the bullet just grazed me. I've been hurt worse."

  "But you're bleeding." A handkerchief pressed against his brow, and the worry on her face made his heart stop.

  She'd seen what he was up close. Witnessed how easy it was for him to pull a trigger. He stepped away from her, expecting her rejection, and knelt down beside Carson's body.

  No pulse. This man had killed Ben, the only brother he had, but Wyatt never wanted to kill him. He'd only wanted the man tried for the crime and punished according to the law. Having to kill always left him hurting inside, sad for the loss of life, however undeserving.

  "Wyatt?" Garnet's voice sounded so weak and far away. He turned to see the ashen hue on her face. That's when he knew for certain he had truly lost her. She'd seen how violent he was, what he was made of, and she couldn't stomach it.

  Nothing he had endured, not even Ben's death, had ever hurt this much.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Snow began to fall when Garnet stepped foot out of the Virginia City jail. Wyatt followed her outside, grim from delivering Barrett Carson's body and writing up his report. In all, the rich merchant's son was responsible for six murders, including Wyatt's brother.

  "Do you think the stage will still be running?" she asked, gazing up at the silver-white sky. Tiny flakes fluttered into her eyes and tickled her face.

  "Doesn't look like it will turn into a blizzard." He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared down the street. He felt so distant, he seemed like a different man.

  But he wasn't. He was still her Wyatt, dependable and iron-strong. Although he no longer wore his miner's cotton shirt and Levi's. The tasteful black shirt and trousers, hat and boots set him apart from others on the street. Dangerous-looking men took a wide berth when they caught sight of him.

  Winter was coming. She had run out of time. Before the mountain passes filled with snow, she had to make a decision. To leave, or to stay.

  How could she stay? Wyatt didn't want to marry her. He had said those very words himself. It didn't matter if he was a miner or deputy marshal, he did not want her for anything more than a lover. He had a job. His lack of a stable profession was not keeping them apart.

  He was. He feared he wasn't good enough for her. For her!

  "Do you need me to recommend a hotel room?" he asked.

  "No, I can find one on my own." She didn't need his help, she needed him.

  Snow was accumulating on the brim of his hat and on the shoulders of his tailored black coat. His square jaw was set as if preparing to face an executioner, but his shadowed eyes revealed nothing. What was he feeling?

  "Are you going to return to Stinking Creek?" she had to ask, had to know. "Or are you going home to your job?"

  He bowed his chin and studied the ground. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. He looked rakish and respectable, dangerous and tame. Everything she could ever dream of in a man.

  "I haven't decided yet." He leaned against the wall of the jail, his back to the wood. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. "I want to make certain you get on the stage all right. It's the least I can do for nearly getting you shot at twice by the same man."

  "Mr. Carson was the man following Golda and me the first night we came to town?"

  "As close as I can figure. Maybe he was worried you had some information about the gold since you were heading for my claim." He swept off his hat and raked his fingers through those thick, dark locks. "I almost failed you today. I let down my guard. He took advantage of it and caught me from behind. I could have gotten you killed."

  "I'll try to forgive you." She teased him, the way she used to.

  But there was no smile quirking his mouth, no flicker of humor in his eyes. "How can you ever forgive me? You've seen what I do for a living."

  "What is wrong with being a deputy marshal? It's such an honorable profession."

  "The men I hunt down are criminals, Garnet. Some criminals are animals, but others are just desperate men. Men in bad circumstances, who made a wrong choice or showed bad judgment. Many of them aren't so different from me."

  She laid a hand on his arm. "It doesn't matter, Wyatt. I love you just the way you are. No matter what. And that will never change. You can bet on it."

  She didn't understand, Wyatt knew. She was a sheltered proper woman, just like Amelia had been, raised without knowledge of the bad side of life, of human nature.

  He loved Garnet. He wanted her to be his wife, to welcome him home after a tough day's work and fill him with her goodness, to hold him through the night and comfort him from those dreams he couldn't always shake.

  He wanted it so much, he knew he had to face his fears. And let them go.

  Garnet had watched him
shoot Carson. She knew what he was. And yet she still loved him, saw the honor he tried to bring to his job, to his life.

  Her hand touched his sleeve. "I am certain of my feelings for you, Wyatt. How do you feel about me?"

  "I love you. More than anything."

  He reached out and folded his hands over hers. Warm. Accepting. Filled with faith in her love, faith in their future together.

  "We can do whatever you want, Garnet. We can stay in our cabin at the claim through the winter. Or we can head back to my house in Bannack, or–"

  "You have a house?" she interrupted.

  "A respectable job, a steady paycheck, and a mortgage. Am I stable enough for you?" Now he was teasing her.

  She laughed, her chest filling with so much happiness she could hardly breathe. "I'll follow you anywhere."

  "Then you'll have to marry me. Because if you think I'm going to sleep with you and live in sin without the benefit of holy matrimony, you are dead wrong."

  "But I'm a free spirit now. I've learned to drink alcohol and play poker and pan for gold."

  "Stop teasing and kiss me."

  His mouth covered hers with a passionate brush of heat and lips. Sheer joy swelled in her heart. She wrapped her arms tightly around his broad, iron-strong shoulders. There was no greater treasure in all of Montana Territory. And he was hers.

  An Excerpt From:

  ">The Rancher's Return

  Chapter One

  "No!" Nettie felt the skin prickle on the back of her neck despite the heat and the sun. In a flash she halted the wagon, harnesses jangling, and hauled her two-and-a-half-year-old son onto her lap, shielding him from the sight before them.

  She recognized her neighbor, Jake Beckman, his big frame silhouetted by the bright red-orange disk of the harsh sun, his head bare. Nettie watched in horror as he drew his strong leg backward, his gaze trained on a downed man in the middle of the road, and slammed his boot into the fallen man's midsection with all of his oxlike strength.