Page 13 of A Dangerous Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #4)

“I got one!”

Eli hooted. “That’s a big one! Swing it over here, and I’ll take it off the hook for you.”

Isaac heard the boys’ voices before he could see them.

“It’s the biggest one today. Bigger than yours.” No mistaking Ben’s enthusiasm.

“Might be.”

Their innocent laughter reminded him of his nephew and nieces. David, Jo, and Tillie were as innocent as they came. But they were still caught up in this mess with Quade and the land.

Isaac dismounted Bullet and led him to the riverbank. The two boys came into view, both knee-deep in the river—Ben gripping a slightly bent rod, and Eli holding the thin line at eye level, inspecting the foot-long trout.

Isaac had spent the morning on Drew’s homestead, patching and painting the big barn.

It was a job that needed doing before winter set in, and it’d taken all the brothers, plus David, to accomplish it.

Isaac had spent hours on the tallest rungs of the ladder, the only place he could keep his distance, but it hadn’t kept him from overhearing Nick grumbling.

Nick had met with the attorney in town, and the news wasn’t good.

“It’s legal,” Nick had said. “At least in the way that slimy snake is going about it. He can move the dirt around on his land, reshaping it any way he sees fit. And if it just so happens the river is rerouted in the process, the legal precedent is that Quade isn’t breaking any laws.”

There’d been a heavy silence. In the process of dipping his paintbrush, Isaac had glimpsed Drew’s devastated look before he’d blanked his expression.

“There’s got to be some way to link that bandit who tried to kill Rebekah to Quade,” Ed muttered, his paintbrush forgotten at his side.

Isaac knew that Marshal O’Grady would’ve found it if there’d been any evidence. It was too big a coincidence that the bandit had been found dead in his cell after being arrested. Quade claimed he’d been fired from the spread months ago, and with the bandit dead, there was no one to argue with him.

Ed’s fingers tightened around his paintbrush until his knuckles turned white. “We have to do something.” He spoke with angry conviction. “An eye for an eye. Isn’t that in the Bible?”

Isaac knew better and so did Ed. But Ed hadn’t gotten over nearly losing Rebekah.

“Remember what happened in Johnson County?” Nick asked, the voice of reason. “Sheep herders and ranchers taking the law into their own hands. All that got them was bloody battles and lives lost.”

Isaac kept his eyes on the patch of wall in front of him as images of other lives snuffed out vied for his attention.

Then he realized the section was done. Painted.

He needed to move the ladder. He was on the second rung, almost to the ground, when Drew spoke in a quiet, resigned voice.

“We may have to fight. We can’t lose the water. ”

Desperation was a dangerous thing. It drove men to do unspeakable things. The McGraws owned the land that the river flowed through. If Quade rerouted it, stole it…What would a desperate Drew do to protect and provide for his family?

“They can’t use their shovels and picks if we fire on ’em,” Ed said.

And Isaac lost his careful composure. “You want to put a rifle in David’s hand?

” he demanded, voice too loud, out of control.

“Put a target on him for Quade’s hired guns?

Because it won’t just be you three that become the target when Quade’s men decide to shoot back.

He’s got a dozen hired guns—money to pay for more.

Those men will come for you—and your families. ”

He’d stood there, red-faced and shaking, as seconds had ticked by. His brothers had stared at him, then he’d stormed off and spent a few minutes in the bunkhouse cooling off. When he’d returned and climbed the ladder again, they’d turned their quiet conversation to mundane things.

It hadn’t kept his mind from spinning the whole ride back up to his cabin.

His brothers resorting to more violence wasn’t the answer.

Quade’s men outnumbered the McGraws four to one.

If it came to a shoot-out, his family didn’t stand a chance.

Especially since Isaac couldn’t draw on a man. And couldn’t pull the trigger.

He couldn’t see a way forward.

“He’s a slippery one.” Eli’s words to Ben shook Isaac out of his dark thoughts. “I’ll take it off the hook for you,” Eli offered as the boys slogged back to the bank.

Ben spotted Isaac and waved to him excitedly. “Come see my fish. It’s a big one.”

Isaac dismounted, taking in the cutthroat trout and the pleased expressions of both boys. “That will be some good eating tonight. Either of you know how to fillet your catch?”

Ben’s chest puffed out with pride while Eli wrinkled his nose.

They shook their heads.

“I’ll show you when you’re done fishing.”

Ben whooped.

Over the past several days, Isaac had stepped into the unfamiliar role of teacher. Clare had come through on her promise that she and the boys would help with chores. This meant Isaac had needed to show them how he wanted things done. Just like his pa had shown him and his brothers.

Leading Bullet around a slight bend at the water’s edge, he caught sight of Clare standing in the shallows.

The hem of her practical work dress was soaked, her sleeves rolled up and revealing sun-kissed forearms. A soft breeze teased the strands of hair that had escaped from a low bun at the nape of her neck.

When she saw him, a happy smile spread across her face.

“Isaac. You’re back.”

His heart kicked up at the warmth in her greeting. He should’ve greeted her back. But his tongue felt too thick to form words, so he just lifted a hand.

A basket of damp laundry sat on the creek bank. He’d caught her in the middle of hauling more water for the wash tub.

She pulled the half-submerged bucket from the river and stepped carefully over the rocky bottom, pausing to reach down and grab something out of the gurgling water.

A familiar tube that made his heart drop to his boots—dynamite.

He swung down from Bullet and surged toward her, his boots splashing in the shallows.

“Give me that!” he snapped.

His sharp tone must have startled her. She looked up but at the same moment lost her balance, teetering in the current. He was close enough to grasp her shoulder and steady her.

“Give it to me,” he ordered softly.

Clare handed him the stick, brows creased. “There’s no blasting cap. It’s not dangerous. It was just floating downstream.”

He thought her rambling was due to nerves until he saw her eyes flick to the right. Was she hiding something again?

When she glanced up at him again, he saw only genuine concern in her expression. “Who’s blasting with dynamite?”

He didn’t bother to hide his scowl. “The rancher whose land is to the north of us, Heath Quade, is trying to reroute the river. Steal our water.”

He saw the flare of recognition behind her eyes, the wheels turning. Clare was a smart woman. They’d had two run-ins with Quade since she’d arrived.

She tipped her head. “I suppose you’ve already tried to reason with him. Compromise.”

He took the full bucket of water from her and gently gripped her arm with his other hand to steady her as they slogged toward the riverbank.

“McGraws tried the neighborly approach years ago. That didn’t work with Quade.

” He released her arm as they neared the laundry basket on the riverbank.

He held the bucket of water and watched as her gaze flicked to the boys and a wrinkle of worry appeared just above her nose.

“Drew will think of something,” he said. Not sure where the urge to comfort her had come from. He shifted his feet, disconcerted.

This is our legacy. Words his pa had said dozens of times beat inside him to the rhythm of his heart. It was true.

“We won’t give up. You’ll be safe here.”

For now.

He waited for her to react with fear. Instead, those hazel eyes sparked.

She shoved her hands on her hips. “You McGraws are a formidable bunch,” she said with a faint smile. “And you. I didn’t know what to think when I learned you were a marshal.”

Instinctively, he turned away from her.

You killed my boy .

The words of another woman echoed in his ears. A coldness slipped over him with the memory.

The boys came running up the bank, chattering about their catch. Eli carried a bucket and a string of fish. Ben’s homespun shirt stuck to his ribs, and his rolled-up trousers dripped with river water.

“You’re just in time to help me with the rest of the laundry.”

Ben’s face fell.

She stepped into the river, bent to cup some water in her hand, and splashed him. Ben shrieked.

“I need your shirt and pants?—”

Splash.

She laughed. Had she distracted the boys on purpose? Seen Isaac’s emotion?

“—completely wet”—she sent another wave of water Ben’s way—“before I add the soap and start scrubbing.”

Ben ran toward her. Eli, relishing the delighted shrieks, dropped the fish inside the bucket on the bank and sloshed into the river. He used both his hands to douse Clare. The water hit her full in the face. She let out a squeal of fake outrage.

“Oh, no fair. You guys can’t gang up on me.”

But they did, the water flying everywhere. She took a few steps toward Isaac, water dripping from her skirt.

“Better move back or you’ll end up soaked,” Clare warned him with a sassy grin. At that moment, the sunlight filtered through the trees and made her eyes sparkle. With her back to both boys, she couldn’t see their next move, but Isaac did. A wave of water hit her from behind.

She shrieked, arms flailing, almost losing her balance again.

Isaac laughed. The sound was rusty and surprised her as much as it did him, if her raised brows were any indication.

Something hot lodged in his chest, and he couldn’t pull his eyes from Clare—until a stream of icy water hit his cheek.

With a playful growl, he took off after her, the boys’ laughter ringing like a challenge behind him.

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