She turned around in time to see Jake toss one of her trunks down to Lucius.

“Mr. Redman, please take care of my belongings.” Jake hefted the next case and tossed it to a grinning Lucius. “Yes, ma’am.”

Biting down on her temper, she waited until he jumped down beside her. “Notwithstanding my earlier sentiments, I’m very grateful to you, Mr. Redman, for coming to our aid. You proved yourself to be quite valiant. I’m sure my father will want to repay you for seeing that I arrived safely.”

Jake didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone talk quite so fine since he’d spent a week in St. Louis. Tipping back his hat, he looked at her, long enough to make Sarah flush. “Forget it.”

Forget it? Sarah thought as he turned his back and walked away. If that was the way the man accepted gratitude, she certainly would. With a sweep of her skirts she moved to the side of the road to wait for her father.

Jake strode into the rooming house with his saddlebag slung over his shoulder. It was never particularly clean, and it always smelled of onions and strong coffee. There were a couple of bullet holes in the wall. He’d put one of them there personally. Since the door was propped open, flies buzzed merrily in and out of the cramped entrance.

“Maggie.” Jake tipped his hat to the woman who stood at the base of the stairs. “Got a room?” Maggie O’Rourke was as tough as one of her fried steaks. She had iron-gray hair pinned back from a face that should have been too skinny for wrinkles. But wrinkles there were, a maze of them. Her tiny blue eyes seemed to peek out of the folds of a worn blanket. She ran her business with an iron fist, a Winchester repeater and an eye for a dollar.

She took one look at Jake and successfully hid her pleasure at seeing him. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said, the musical brogue of her native country still evident in her thin voice. “Got the law on your tail, Jake, or a woman?”