Two parallel rows of rooftops marking the settlement came into view, and Juniper’s mind raced for a solution. He’d met all the residents of this town at one time or another, having served as their local sheriff for nearly two years before he’d moved up to the high Sierra camp. In the past few years he’d spent his days beating the trail up and down this mountain.
Juniper veered off the wide stretch of road. Below, individual rooftops fanned out on either side of the shops on the main strip. Homes spotted the uneven hills tucked into the mountain crevasse. Descending a high stretch of ground, he caught sight of a cluster of residents gathered beneath the narrow awnings of the main strip, spilling out into the street.
Spotting his approach, the dense crowd scattered like a clutch of spooked chickens, rushing off in all directions. Not his usual greeting.
Something’s definitely up.
His gaze swept the deep valley, searching the passes in and out of town. Thick foliage covered the steep ridges spiking up on three sides, offering ample shelter and few outlets. He truly doubted the band of timbermen had stuck around for his arrival, knowing he was in pursuit and that a man lay dead up on the mountain. Then again, if their intentions had been relief for the community rather than greed, he should find them passing out wages at McFarland’s office. Somehow, that didn’t seem likely.
Experience told him that no matter what their initial intentions had been when they’d descended upon that wagon, the moment their hands had been on the money, greed had kicked in. If they’d taken a mind to keep the loot for themselves, the township posed as great a threat as the law. The stolen money was rightfully the townspeople’s. Juniper’s impending approach would be a good excuse for them to keep riding—only if they’d managed to rally support from those they’d come into contact with, convincing them that their sheriff was the greater threat. Not a position any sheriff wanted to be in.
He pulled up on the reins and glanced back at his meager posse. The sight of Lily barreling down on him brought an abrupt shift of focus—and damn near took his breath away. Her hair flowed out behind her like a shimmering mane. Attraction prowled through his body, tensing his muscles as she came up beside him, her squared shoulders and raised chin giving off a flare of confidence.
Even snagged and scuffed, she stood out in these mountains like a swan in a duck pond.
There’s no way to hide her, to make her blend in. Reginald wasn’t much better in his ruffled shirt and brimless black hat. What the hell good was a hat that didn’t even shade your face? Both reined in beside him, exhaustion clear on their faces. He imagined neither were used to spending hours on horseback, much less keeping up the rigorous pace he’d demanded.
“Mr. Barns—”
“Stay beside me,” he said before Lily could get another word out. “I want you both tight on my flank.” He urged Scout on, giving no time for Lily’s rebuttal. They murmured behind him before moving into position, their horses just visible from the corners of his eyes.
In a town usually humming with activity, the streets were nearly deserted. Folks peered out through open doors and shop windows. Only the general-store merchant stood in the entrance to his shop, twisting one upturned end of his fancy mustache.
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” Deke Winton said with a wave.
“Deke.”
Juniper rode on toward the livery, which marked the far end of town. Frank would know who’d been in and out of The Grove. If the men had ridden out, they’d likely taken fresh horses.
On the second block the wide doors to Jonas’s blacksmith shop were shut tight, a sight he’d never seen before in the middle of the afternoon. A nagging chill wormed up his spine. More than likely, Jonas’s last clients had been a band of timbermen needing help with a locked box.
“On my flank,” he repeated, Lily and Reginald falling out of his peripheral vision. Both closed in.
Juniper wasn’t pleased to see the sheriff’s office locked up, shutters drawn. He wondered if his deputy had caught wind of the trouble or was off on other business.
Reaching the center of town, he slowed. He glanced past Lily’s mount and honed his gaze on the small white house located on the edge of town.
“Mr. Barns, would—”
“Pipe down,” he said offhandedly, cutting off Lily’s question as his gaze swept the yard and nearby fields of tall grasses. He didn’t see any sign of visitors outside Widow Donnelly’s home, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking about.
He continued toward the livery.
Residents who were usually quick to greet him peered through windows. Those who’d ventured out onto the boardwalks ducked back inside as he approached. He stopped in front of the large stable.
“This is a livery,” Lily said from beside him.
Her pristine pronunciation coupled with the bafflement buried in her crisp tone brought a grin to Juniper’s lips. “Sure is. Our horses are done for today. We’ll need fresh mounts.” He swung out of his saddle and began to quickly remove the pack of leftover supplies from his trip into the high country.
“Should I presume we are about to embark on another of your brilliant schemes?”
A quick side glance at her pursed expression told him to focus on removing his saddle if he wanted to keep a hold on his temper. He usually had the patience of a priest, yet one look at Lily’s cold stare and slender, arching eyebrow snapped at his nerves.
It’s your guilty conscience, he told himself, knowing he’d made a rash mistake sending her down the mountain in the wagon the way he had.
“I would think you’d have apprehended half the town by now, being so quick to use handcuffs and handkerchiefs with me.”
“Give the sheriff a break, Lily,” Reginald said in a dull tone. “He did rescue you.”
Lily dismounted and turned her sour expression toward her cousin, her hands fisted against the alluring curve of her hips. “From the situation he put me in!”
Juniper quickly averted his gaze from her shapely body, telling himself he’d liked her far better while she’d been unconscious.
She needs to get off my mountain.
“An honest mistake by the sound of it,” said Reginald. “Though I can’t imagine how you’d neglect to inform him you own the lumber camp.”
“Hush,” Juniper ordered, glancing around for anyone within earshot as he moved in close between them. “Do you two still not get it?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “The name Carrington has brought these people nothing but further hardship.”
“But I—”
“I know,” he cut in. “You’re here to set things right. Until you do, I suggest you keep your lips pinched tight. Am I under stood?”
Lily drew herself up, making the most of barely five feet—hardly a sign of compliance.
“We are due a briefing, Mr. Barns, as I’ve found your judgment to be severely lacking thus far.”
“Sheriff Barns.” Frank stood at the open end of the barn, his thumbs hooked behind his suspenders.
“Afternoon, Frank,” Juniper said, walking past Lily. “Our horses need a cool down, and I’ll be needing three fresh mounts. Or have you been cleaned out?”
“Figured you’d be coming down the mountain like a flash of lighting,” he said, sounding surprisingly chipper. “I’ve got a few left. Saved the best of my stock for you.”
“I am obliged. They all rode out, then?”
“A dozen mares rode out in two directions nearly twenty minutes ago.”
“Can