Chapter One

Bright rays of sunlight led Naomi Brecker forward. The click of her shoes echoed down the narrow hallway, reminding her of a runaway train. Clickedly, clack, clickedly, clack. As she neared the ominous, closed door, her heart rose in her throat. Three days ago, Warden Campbell had notified her she’d been pardoned by the governor, and he awaited receipt of her final papers. Now, since he’d sent for her again, she could only hope he’d received them. Yet, she was afraid to face him for fear something had happened to prevent it.

“Sit here,” the guard ordered. With a glare at her, he pointed at the wood bench across from the door. “I’ll be right back.” He opened the door and disappeared inside.

Naomi took a deep breath and gathered her courage, what little bit she could muster. She couldn’t face this prison, and her tiny cell, any longer, yet she was also afraid of what the outside world held for her. Most, if not all, of her friends had believed she’d done the unspeakable and had deserted her. She faced the future alone. At the thought, a shudder raced down her spine.

It seemed like an eternity until the guard returned, but in actuality, it was only a few minutes.

“The warden will see you now.”

As Naomi shoved herself to her feet, her knees threatened to buckle under her. Her hands trembled as she opened the door. The tall, white-haired man behind the desk stood. With a nod of his head, he motioned her toward the chair in front of the ornate mahogany desk. She perched on the edge of the seat, clutching her hands together to hide the tremors.

The warden set a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, picked up a file, and leafed through the papers. “Well, Mrs. Brecker, I’ve received your pardon papers from the governor’s office. They appear to be in order.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. “That’s wonderful, Warden.”

“Let’s take a look at your file.”

She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. There should be nothing in her file to prevent or delay her release, but until she walked out the gates of this prison a free woman, she couldn’t rest easy. The warden continued to inspect her file as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever read. The urge to scream at him to get on with it surfaced, but she bit down on her lips. Angry words would serve no purpose.

A slight movement by the fireplace caught her attention. A man stood there, watching. Condemnation sat on the stern line of his lips. She fidgeted under the piercing stare.

She turned her attention back to the warden who was still engrossed in her file. After a few moments, she sneaked a peek at the other man. He was a handsome devil, tall and rangy, but broad-shouldered and powerful. From this distance, his eyes appeared to be blue, longish coal black hair curling over his collar. A thin scar sliced through his right eyebrow and down his cheek. A shadow of a beard darkened a jaw that looked as hard as granite. In black pants, blue shirt, and black vest, he looked the typical cowboy, but, instinctively, she knew he wasn’t. Even though he didn’t speak, his presence filled the room. From the confident set of his shoulders, she could tell he was a man used to being in charge. The tied-down gun on his thigh told her he could back it up. He turned slightly, and she saw it.

The badge.

The tin star.

Butterflies churned in her stomach. Why was he here? Did it have something to do with her? With her pardon? She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, then winced.

At that moment, Warden Campbell cleared his throat. Naomi whirled to face him, almost falling out of her chair.

“Well, Mrs. Brecker, I see you’ve been a model prisoner. There’s no record of any trouble or incidents.” He peered at her over the wire rim of his spectacles. “Very good. I wish more of the inmates were like you.”

He paused, seeming to expect a response, so she nodded. “Thank you, Warden.”

“I’m sure that contributed to the governor’s decision. Now that you’ve paid your debt to society for your crime—”

“I’ve committed no crime, sir.”

His lips pursed into a frown. “Well, the jury felt that you did—they convicted you.”

A thousand angry words ran through her mind, but again she bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at him. Losing her temper would serve no purpose. What he said was true—she had indeed been tried and sentenced for a horrendous crime. So she merely nodded. “Yessir, they did, but they were wrong.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “What are your plans?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why, I plan to return to Gila Bend of course. My home is there.”

“I understand, but do you think that’s a good idea? Of course, it’s your decision, Mrs. Brecker, but you may not find yourself very welcome back there. Your husband had a lot of enemies in that area. Do you have somewhere else to go? Do you perchance have any relatives back east?”

Naomi clenched her hands into fists, again reminding herself it would do no good to protest her innocence. She would return to Gila Bend and find the sonofabitch who’d killed her husband and his alleged mistress and framed her. Whatever it took, no matter who she had to face or fight, she was going home. Her need for revenge would see her through. “There is no one, but thank you for your concern. I’ll be fine.” She rose to her feet. “Am I, am I…free? Can I go now?”

He rose and tossed her file on the desk. “Yes, you’re free to go. Is someone meeting you?”

“No.”

“I’m afraid the supply wagon has already left. As you know, it only stops here every other week.”

A groan slipped out before she could stop it. “Perhaps I can rent a wagon, or buy a horse.”

“Do you have any money to do that?”

She heard the hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I believe I had some money when I first came here.” She notched her chin up. “Do I get it back?”

The bushy eyebrows lifted. “Well, let’s see.” He picked up her file. After a moment, he nodded. “Yes, there was some money, and a few personal belongings. I’ll have the guard fetch them for you.” With those words, he left the room.

Alone with the silent, hard-eyed lawman, she dared a glance at him.

And found him staring at her.

Squirming under his scrutiny and unable to stand there any longer, Naomi walked over to the window. From here, she could see prisoners in the exercise yard. She also had a clear view of all the buildings, including the fences and high walls that had held her prisoner for three years. A lump rose in her throat, almost choking her.

From behind her, footsteps sounded, and she sensed him by her side. His commanding presence, as well as his sheer size, intimated her. He stood four or five inches over six feet, towering over her five foot six inch frame.

And his eyes were blue.

A very icy blue—and fringed by eyelashes so thick a woman would die for them.

But with a hint of…interest?

She inched away, very much aware of her plain appearance and ugly prison garb. Just being in the same room with him made her stomach churn.

“Nice day,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes, yes, it is.”

“Since the Warden didn’t introduce us, I’ll have to introduce myself. I’m Wes Cooper. U.S. Marshal Wes Cooper.”

“Marshal,” she acknowledged, “I’m—”

“Naomi Brecker. I know. Or should I say Barker?”

The insolent way he said her name brought a heated flush to her face. She glared at him. “It’s Brecker. I’ve heard of you, too. They say you’re a fast gun, and you always get your man—dead or alive.” She lifted her chin in a challenge. “And you don’t care which way it is.”

A muscle clenched along his jaw, and she knew she’d hit a raw spot. A smug smile touched her lips.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he retorted, his voice cold and hard. “I read about you in the newspaper,” he continued. “Most interesting article.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the paper.”

“Touché.” He grinned and arched a dark eyebrow at her.

“Well, I’m glad you found it such exciting reading, Marshal.” With conscious effort, she laced her voice with sarcasm. “I can’t say I feel the same.” His scent, that of soap and tobacco, circled around her—like a noose. She took another small step away from him.

He chuckled, jerking her attention back to him.

“Why are you laughing? I see nothing to laugh about.”

“Oh, no reason. It’s just that you seem awful nervous.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m just anxious to get out of here. That’s all.” She tucked a stray wisp of hair back into its confining chignon.

“Tell me, Mrs. Brecker, were you aware that your husband, Roy Barker, was one of Arizona’s most wanted outlaws? The newspaper said you denied any knowledge or involvement in the crimes your husband’s gang committed.”

Stars swirled before her eyes. She grabbed the window sill to steady herself. “I don’t wish to talk about this, Marshal. My trial is over. I’m not guilty of anything. Besides, as you just heard, I’ve been pardoned.” She turned her back to him. “Now would you please leave me alone?”

“The article also said he had a mistress, you found out, and that’s why you killed him—and her.”

She whirled to face him, her hand, as if by its own volition, rising to strike him. He grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.

“Now, now, Mrs. Brecker. Assaulting an officer of the law could put you right back behind bars.” He smiled at her, a smile without humor.

“Oh, how dare you. You, you…you’re despicable.” She pulled her hand free. “Stay away from me.”

The door opened, and the warden entered the room. She’d never been so glad to see him before. She returned to stand at his desk.

“All right, Mrs. Brecker, here’s your money and your personal property. Please check and make sure everything is accounted for.”

He held out a valise and an envelope. Although she wanted to count the money, she stuck the envelope in the pocket of her skirt. “Thank you, Warden. I’m sure everything is there. I’ll be leaving now.”

“I wish you the best of luck, Mrs. Brecker.”

“Thank you.” She scurried to the door. She could hardly wait to get out of this office—away from the cold blue eyes. She told herself to get used to the censure. Since everyone in Gila Bend thought her guilty, she would probably be ostracized. Her so-called friends had disappeared at her trial.

But if she could survive three years of prison, she could survive anything.

She slammed the door behind her.

***

Wes Cooper laughed aloud as the door slammed.

“Well, what do you think, Wes?” The warden pulled a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from his desk drawer. He splashed amber liquid into the glass and handed it to Wes. “What’s your impression of Naomi Brecker?”

“Well, she’s definitely not what I expected.” Wes lowered his big frame into the chair. “I expected someone older—and harder. She’s young, kind of pretty. With her hair all pulled back, you could see the strain on her face. Although you couldn’t really tell under that horrible dress you make these women wear, she has a nice womanly figure, a mite on the skinny side. I liked the color of her hair, like warm honey. I liked the dark green color of her eyes. I don’t know what it was about her eyes, but they looked kind of empty…vulnerable maybe. She sure didn’t seem to be a killer.” And even if she were, the idea of tracking a woman left a bad taste in his mouth, but it was part of the job.

“Yeah, I feel the same way. Definitely not the murderess type. She’s always come across as a real lady, well-mannered, educated. Very genteel. She’s got that air about her, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, but real ladies don’t murder people or condone robbing and killing.” For a moment, Wes wondered what had prompted this lady to kill. Killing a man wasn’t easy, even for him, a man of the law. What had caused her to step over the line?

“I guess not. She’s always sworn that she was innocent.” The warden’s lips curled into a half smile. “But then, everyone here proclaims their innocence.”

“Yeah.” Wes chuckled as he rubbed his jaw. “I imagine so. Did she ever have any visitors?”

“I don’t think so.” The warden picked up the file and studied it. He shook his head. “Nope. Not a soul.”

“What about mail? She ever write any letters?”

“No.”

“Did she ever receive any letters?”

“No.”

“Hmmm. Kind of strange. You’d think some relative would have come to visit or written her in three years. You sure about that?”

“Yes. We log in all visitors and open all the inmates’ mail before we give it to them. Maybe her family, if she’s got one, disowned her. Maybe they were too ashamed to have anything to do with her.”

“That could be. Still…I would have thought…but I’ve been wrong before.” Wes sipped his whiskey, then scrubbed his hand across his lips. She might protest her innocence, but her family and friends had evidently written her off as guilty. “Was she close friends with any of the other inmates? Ever talk much to anyone in particular?”

“Not that I know of. Not any one more than another. From what the guards say, she mostly stayed to herself.” The warden snapped the file shut.

“Not much to go on, Paul.”

“Sorry. The governor seems to think you can take care of this.”

“I’ll give it my best.” Wes raised his glass to the warden. “I must say you do serve a good glass of whiskey, Paul.”

“It’s my reward to myself for taking this miserable job out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“So tell me about this assignment.” Wes held his glass out, and Paul refilled it. “I thought Jake Burleson was supposed to take it.”

“He was, but he got himself killed trying to bring in Johnny Miller.”

Wes grimaced. “Hadn’t heard that. Jake was a good man.”

“Yeah, he was. Leaves a wife and three kids, too. Damned shame. Do you remember that robbery over at Fort Jameson? Where the military payroll and a couple of wagons of rifles and ammunition were stolen?”

“Yeah, I remember. From what I heard, they must have had an inside person. It was all too easy.”

“You’re right. One of the enlisted men finally came forward and admitted to helping Roy Barker’s gang steal the guns. For a price, of course. Then, a couple of months ago, some of those rifles surfaced in the hands of some renegade Indians. Stirred up considerable public outcry. The governor wants those guns found and soon. He thinks Mrs. Brecker may know where they are. Your job is to follow her and find them.”

Wes shrugged. “That may not be so easy. Even assuming she knows anything, that was over three years ago. They could be anywhere by now. Brecker’s gang hasn’t been seen or heard of for quite a while. Maybe they split up and went their separate ways. Rumor has it they may have even gone down to Mexico or up to Canada. Evidently, they made no plans to meet up with her.”

“We can only hope they left the country. They were a bad bunch. The governor’s convinced that they’re still in the area, holed up somewhere, or using this area as a home base. He wants them caught. If anyone can do it, Wes, you can.”

“I don’t know. The trail’s pretty cold. Brecker always seemed to stay one step in front of the law. But I appreciate the confidence in me.” He rose to his feet and ambled over to the window. Movement by the gate caught his attention. Naomi Brecker stood there, her valise in her hands looking small and helpless. Her hair caught the sun’s rays and gleamed in the bright light.

Then, as if she knew he watched, she glanced up at the window. Maybe it was a flight of fancy, but she angled her chin up, shot him a defiant look, walked out the gate and across the street. He laughed to himself. A small town of sorts had sprung up around the prison. The slim figure headed for the livery.

“Well, I’d better get to work. Mrs. Brecker is on the move.”

“Sure wish you could stay and have dinner, Wes. I’m in need of some masculine company. I’m a little tired of females.”

Wes barked out a laugh. “Not many men would say that.”

“Probably not, but if they could change places with me for a while, I’m sure they’d say different.” The warden grinned, rose to his feet, and stuck his hand out. “Send me a report when you find anything out, and I’ll make sure the governor gets it.”

“Will do.” Wes shook the warden’s outstretched hand. He grabbed his hat from the chair, put it on, and tugged it down on his forehead. With a smile at the warden he left the room.

Five minutes later, he found her—and found himself wondering why he was so fascinated with this woman, a convicted murderess. She definitely wasn’t the type of woman he normally gravitated to.

As he rounded the corner of the livery, he saw her, a frown on her face, squared off with Nate Harper.

“Look, lady,” Nate said, then spat a wad of tobacco. “I done told you. Fifty bucks for the horse. Take it or leave it.”

“But—”

“Nate Harper,” Wes broke in, “you know that nag ain’t worth fifty dollars. At the most, she’s worth twenty.”

Nate frowned at him. “But I’m throwing in the saddle and saddle bags, Wes. They’re worth something.”

“Come on, Nate, give her a break.”

She glared at him. “I don’t need your help, Marshal.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say, ma’am. Go ahead—pay fifty for the animal. No skin off my back.”

She hesitated, looking from him to Harper and back. “Mr. Harper?” She lifted her eyebrows at the liveryman, her full bottom lip quivering. She looked so pitiful that even Harper caved.

A long sigh escaped Nate. “Oh, all right, but I tell you, it just ain’t fair. I caint abide a woman’s tears.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harper.” She sent him a brilliant smile, all the while ignoring Wes. “I really appreciate it.” She opened the envelope the warden had given her and counted out the money.

After she took out the twenty, Wes could see there was very little left. His admiration inched up a notch—she had grit.

“Can you ride, Mrs. Brecker?” She turned those amazing green eyes to him, and Wes found himself drowning in a sea of green.

“Yes, I can ride.” She patted the mare’s neck. “Mr. Harper, you said you had a rifle you’d sell me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He disappeared to the back of the livery. In a few moments, he returned with a rifle.

“How much?” she asked.

“Twenty-five dollars.”

“How about twenty?” she countered.

Nate cursed low under his breath. “All right. Twenty.”

“Ammunition?”

“You got to get that at the mercantile.”

“All right.” She examined the rifle, and from her sure movements, Wes could tell she was familiar with the weapon. “Seems to be in good shape.” With a nod, she counted out the money and handed it to Harper.

Jamming the gun in the scabbard, she turned to Wes. “Yes, Marshal, I can shoot, too.” She looped the handle of her bundle over the pommel and climbed into the saddle. With a wry smile, she smoothed her skirt down.

“I don’t like to butt in, ma’am, where it ain’t no concern of mine, but I think you should wait for the next supply wagon. It’s a long way to Gila Bend. Lots of varmints out there, both four-legged and two-legged.”

She locked gazes with him for a moment. She shook her head, tears misting in her eyes. With her sleeve, she wiped them away. “You’re right. It’s not any concern of yours. Although I hate to admit it, you’re probably right, Marshal. I appreciate your concern. That would be the smart thing to do, but you don’t understand. I can’t, I just can’t. That’s all I can say.”

Somehow, he understood. He couldn’t imagine being locked up for three days, much less three years. He’d be a crazy man by now. “I think I understand, but I still say it’s too dangerous for a woman to be travelling alone out there.”

“I’ll just have to risk it. I can’t stay.” She nudged the horse with her heels and headed down the street. As he watched, she stopped at the general store. In a few minutes, she walked out carrying a larger sack. Several drifters standing in front of the mercantile moved to block her. Wes tensed, ready to step in if there was trouble. But she stepped around them, tied the sack to the saddle horn, and, without a backward glance, rode out of town.

Wes uttered a low curse and pulled his hat down over his forehead. He didn’t fancy this job, yet the badge he wore gave him no choice.

“Get my horse, Nate.”