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Harlow nodded. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. If he caught Frankie or one of us sellin’ booze in town, he’d be bound to arrest us. He wouldn’t like it, but he’d do it.”

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “Could be he’s turnin’ a blind eye to Loomis’s secret saloon in that old barn. Surely he’s heard rumors about it by now.”

“Mebbeso,” Harlow said. “I wouldn’t want to risk it, though. That’s why we only make our deliveries at night, and we’re mighty careful about it even then. Or Frankie is, I should say.” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “Well, if you gents are ready to turn in, don’t let us keep you up. Alf, get these fellas some blankets to take out to the barn. Plenty o’ hay in there you can bed down on, and there shouldn’t be any varmints. Got a couple o’ old cats that’re damn fine mousers.”

“We’re much obliged for the hospitality,” Sam said.

“We’ll figure out some way to pay you back,” Matt added. “Maybe give you a hand with your troubles.”

“Matt…” Sam began.

Thurman Harlow held up a hand. “Don’t you two go to squabblin’ again. Ain’t no need for that. We’ll be fine. We’ll figure out some way o’ dealing with Cimarron Kane.”

Alf Harlow came back with an armload of blankets. He handed them to Matt and Sam, who took the bedding and said their good nights. They headed out to the barn.

“You’re bein’ downright rude,” Matt said as they walked through the night.

“How?” Sam asked. “By not wanting to get us mixed up in a shooting war that’s none of our business?”

“You saw for yourself in town what Kane’s relatives are like. And then tonight the rest of them ambushed a helpless girl!”

“Frankie didn’t look all that helpless when she was shoving a gun against your throat.”

“She wouldn’t have stood a chance against Kane and his bunch, though, and you know it.”

“I reckon you’re right about that,” Sam agreed. “I don’t like it when anybody attacks a woman, no matter how good she is at defending herself.”

“You see? You heard what Mr. Harlow said. The Kanes have them outnumbered two to one. They’re in for a heap of trouble.”

“Well…they wouldn’t be if they gave up making moonshine and let Kane take over the illegal whiskey trade.”

Matt growled in frustration. “You just don’t understand, do you? Since when did you become such a champion of law and order? I seem to remember you bein’ right beside me a few times in the past when we were bendin’ a few laws.”

“That’s true, but we were trying to help folks who needed our help. People who were the victims of injustice, or who couldn’t defend themselves.”

“I’d say it’s an injustice for Cimarron Kane to try to murder these good folks.”

“Good folks who are making illegal whiskey.”

Matt threw his hands in the air. “I give up! I don’t know what’s got into—Wait just a damned minute.”

“What?” Sam asked.

Matt came to a stop and faced his blood brother. “This is about Hannah Coleman, isn’t it? You still want to help her father because of how you feel about her.”

“Hannah’s got nothing to do with it,” Sam insisted.

“Sure she does. You’re sweet on her. I said it before, and I still believe it.”

“You can believe whatever you want,” Sam said stiffly. “That doesn’t make it true.”

Matt grunted and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s it. I see it all now.”

“I’m not sure you see anything…except the way Frankie fills out those jeans she wears.”

“Blast it, Sam, you’ve got no call to go talkin’ like that!”

“Just let it go, Matt,” Sam said with a sigh. “I’ve got a hunch we’re not going to be able to see eye to eye on this argument.”

“Huh. Bet a hat we won’t.”

They went into the barn and found a couple of widely separated places to spread the blankets Alf Harlow had given them. Then they curled up in the hay to sleep. Both of the blood brothers had trouble dozing off, though. Each was thinking about the trouble they had unwittingly ridden into here in western Kansas.

Each had the image of a beautiful young woman floating in his mind, too. In Matt’s case, a fiery, pistol-packing brunette; in Sam’s, a more demure but no less lovely blonde…

Matt wasn’t really aware of going to sleep, but he knew when he woke up because his senses alerted him that something was wrong. His eyes opened and his ears listened intently. Someone moved close by, the hay stirring faintly under the weight of someone’s feet. In absolute silence, Matt’s hand reached out and closed around the butt of one of his Colts, which rested near his head where he had coiled his shell belts. With a whisper of steel against leather, the revolver came out of its holster.

Then Matt exploded into action, lashing out with one leg and sweeping the legs of whoever was sneaking up on him out from under them. With a startled cry, the lurker fell into the hay next to him.

Like a flash, Matt was on top of the person, earing back the hammer of his gun and warning in a harsh whisper, “Don’t move or I’ll shoot!”

That was when he realized that he was sprawled atop the undeniably shapely curves of a woman.

Chapter 14

Since there was only one gal on the Harlow place as far as Matt knew, he went on in a whisper. “Frankie?”

It was unmistakably her voice that answered, “Get off me, you damn oaf!” as she pushed at his chest.

Matt lifted himself onto his hands and knees and then sat beside her in the hay. “What’s goin’ on here?” he asked. “What are you doin’ out here, Frankie?”

“What do you reckon?” she whispered back. “Didn’t you ever wind up in a pile of hay with a girl before?”

“Well, uh, as a matter of fact…” The question embarrassed Matt a little, although he wasn’t sure why. He went on. “What I’ve done before in a pile of hay ain’t any of your business.”

Before Frankie could say anything else, Sam called from the other side of the barn, “Matt? Everything all right over there?”

“Yeah, sure,” Matt replied. “One of those, uh, cats that Harlow mentioned came nosin’ around and woke me up.”

He gritted his teeth to keep from yelling as Frankie reached out blindly in the dark, found his arm, and pinched it hard.

He jerked his arm away from her. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he breathed as he leaned closer over her.

“A cat, am I? I know what you’re saying, you…you…”

“Well, you’re the one who snuck out here to throw yourself at me.”

Her hand came up and took hold of the back of his head. “Shut up,” she whispered as she pulled his mouth down to hers. “Don’t talk anymore.”

They didn’t talk for a few minutes. Kissing Frankie Harlow was a lot more pleasant way to use his mouth, Matt thought. But he fought down the impulse to take things any further than that.

“Listen,” he said when he broke the kiss. “What is it you want?”

“Are you gonna make me say it, Bodine?”

She tried to pull his head down again, but he wouldn’t let her. “I want to know if you think you can buy my help against the Kanes this way.”

“What if I do?”

Matt took Frankie’s arms from around his neck. “Then I’ll say no, thanks. I offered my help, free and clear. You don’t have to do this to seal the deal.”

“Yeah, well, Two Wolves said no.”

“Sam doesn’t speak for me.”

“Prove it.”

Again he felt a surge of irritation. He couldn’t understand why Frankie wasn’t prepared to just accept his help without either bribing or tricking him into it. She must not trust anybody, he thought. Her life must have been pretty rough to make her feel like that.

He sat up again. “Look, you’re a mighty pretty gal, Frankie,” he told her, “and I enjoy rollin’ around in some hay with a pretty gal as much as the next fella does. But when that happens, I like for it to be because the gal wants me…not my gun.”