“Thunderation, but fortune was smiling down on him now! He straightened after he tied his mount’s reins to the hitching post outside the jail, and found Brookfield studying him again. The Englishman’s gaze was penetrating—too penetrating. It was as if he could see straight through Sam and into his not-so-admirable past. “You watch yourself with Miss Prissy—Miss Priscilla, that is,” he told Sam, and those eyes were as chill as the winds of a Texas blue norther. “Don’t even think of trifling with ...her, or make no mistake, you’ll wish you’d never ridden into Simpson Creek.” “You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Brookfield,” Sam said, deliberately using “mister” instead of “sheriff” to subtly remind the other man he was no longer acting sheriff. “I find Miss Gilmore charming—who wouldn’t? She seems to like me, too. But just what is it you don’t like about me?” he said. It was best to get it out in the open, so he could counter it. “I don’t dislike you, Bishop, but I don’t think you’re being entirely honest about why you’ve come.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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