'Killing ain't likely to get easier for you with practice,' Marshall says. Strong fingers curl around his nape, not threatening, just a reassuring pressure that-impossibly-steadies Bram and lets him take a firmer grip on the reins. He startles at the warm weight of Marshall's hand at the back of his neck. Now, with the violence behind him and calm still out of reach, he's not sure whether it's the dead bandit or Cooper's body in the coach upsetting him so badly. He's never been this close to any kind of death, even traveling with his father. Those eyes feel like they're looking straight through him, and it takes Bram a moment to find his voice and answer. He asks the question quietly, and the sound of his voice sends a surprised shiver along Bram's skin. There's something straightforward in his tone, some genuine curiosity. 'How old're you, kid?' Marshall's voice cuts straight through him, low and rough. He hates not being able to still himself by force of will. Bram curses inwardly when Marshall's gaze cuts down to Bram's hands he hates the thought of this man thinking him a coward. When the stage doesn't start forward, Marshall glances at him-a fleeting look first, but a longer one when their eyes lock. Somehow, Marshall's proximity isn't helping.

He should put his eyes on the road ahead and get the horses moving, but his hands are still shaking. Bram finds himself staring again, and this time he can't bring himself to look away. When he climbs onto the bench beside Bram, it's with a freshly loaded shotgun in hand he looks like a man ready for anything. Instead of mounting, he simply hitches his horse to the back of the coach. Marshall returns quickly, on foot, kicking up dust as he leads his horse into the road. He wishes it were enough to settle his anxious nerves as he climbs back into his seat, reins in hand. Well, that and the rescue for which Bram is plenty grateful. He's got no reason to trust him beyond the fact that so far the man hasn't tried to shoot him. But if Marshall wants to stick around after the gunfire fades, Bram's not going to complain.īram doesn't really consider leaving when Marshall disappears to retrieve his own horse but his heartbeat is a confused racket in his chest, and he's none too sure why he stays.

Right place, right time, that's all this is.īram Caldwell sure as hell didn't expect to need rescuing.

Sage & Sand by Yolande Kleinn