Authors: Jillian Hart
Calico Bride (15 page)
"There's no hope for this pup." The old man laughed. "No one is gonna help you but me, boy. Don't listen to a lawman's lies." He spat.
He knew Cheever was right. No one cared, no one would help him. He also knew that the outlaw wouldn't, either. He was alone, like always. He would always be alone. The hope for anything more was gone.
He couldn't shoot. His finger didn't move and he didn't want it to. Maybe he was going to die anyway, and he wasn't going to have to explain to God, if there was one, that his last act had been to gun down an innocent man.
"Shoot."
The old man's hand closed over his in an instant. Fast as lightning, Cheever's forefinger pressed his against the trigger. There was no stopping the inevitable.
No!
Burke's soul cried out in horror. In the fragment of the second it took the rifle to fire, he shifted the barrel hoping to miss the heart. The shot deafened him, the gun's butt kicked hard against his shoulder and the Rider fell.
"He's down!" one of the gang called out victoriously below. "Good job, kid."
Revulsion twisted through him. The Winchester tumbled from his hands. He never wanted to touch that rifle again. Vaguely he was aware of men stepping out from behind rocks and tree trunks, applauding before heaving open the coach's doors. Olly's pa stood up and stuffed a plug of chew into his cheek. "That wasn't so bad, was it, boy? You're a wanted man now. There ain't no goin' back. Decent folks won't want you near them. You are no good. You are a marked man."
The Rider he'd shot lay like a lump at the side of the road. He'd tried to miss his heart but it looked as if he'd failed. Shock rattled him. Disgusted at what he'd done, he rolled over on his side and retched. He'd taken a life. His soul bled, torn apart, and he swiped sweat from his face. Realized too late it was tears.
"You did good, Burke." Olly slapped him on the back. "I hesitated with the first one, too."
Old Man Cheever spat out a stream of tobacco juice. "The second one is easier."
It had been. Burke hung his head, the near decade-old rip in his soul smarting. Lucky reached around to dig his teeth in Burke's shirt.
"Sorry, buddy." He returned to grooming, the rhythmic motion calming, but nothing had been able to erase the stain on his conscience. He'd been young, he'd been vulnerable and he'd been forced to do it. Every shot he'd taken with that Winchester had been with a rifle at his back or a gun pointed to a hostage's head, but he'd done it all the same. At the time he had believed Cheever was right. That no one would want him, there would never be a normal life for him. But now he wanted it, Heaven knew he did.
What was he doing beauing Lila? He knelt to curry down Lucky's front legs and belly. By not telling her about his past, it was as good as deceiving her.
I know what to do, Lord.
He straightened and switched the comb for a brush.
I just don't want to do it. I don't want to end things with her, not yet.
The horse in the neighboring stall nickered. Down the aisle another horse answered. He brushed Lucky's forelock and tail. It didn't matter what he wanted. It was time to do what was right.
When he was done, he gave Lucky a pat and set aside the brush. He wouldn't think about losing her. He wouldn't allow himself to imagine the loving light fading from her beautiful green-blue eyes when she looked at him. If he did, then he couldn't get through it. He'd chased felons through treacherous mountain passes in the dead of winter. He'd tracked soulless outlaws in the heat of summer through the badlands with no sleep and a single canteen of water. He'd been shot, dragged from a horse, survived fistfights, gang fights and his past, but he wasn't tough enough to face losing her.
One step at a time, Hannigan. He blew out a breath, grabbed Lucky's lead and guided him down the aisle. The oldest Dane brother didn't hurry looking up from his forge.
"Got the buggy in back," was all he said with a cold drip of disdain before jamming a horseshoe into the fire with a big pair of tongs.
While Burke hitched up Lucky, he kept his mind on his job. He'd done some good in this town. Because of what he'd tracked down on Dobbs, an innocent man in the territorial prison would go free and another would receive a lighter sentence. Roger, who had been threatened into giving part ownership of his bar to Dobbs, would no longer live in fear. Lila's father might get his wagon and horses returned. Lorenzo Davis might get some of his cattle back. There were more long-term wrongs that Burke wasn't able to track down the evidence for, but his boss was aware of them. Once Dobbs was indicted, more folks would feel safe enough to speak up.
He buckled the last of the rigging and hopped into the buggy. Lucky lifted his head, feeling the bit, his ears pricked and swiveling, eager for the command to go. When Burke released the brake and chirruped, the mustang stretched out into a snappy walk, glad to be out and about in the wind and sun. The sky was a clear robin's egg blue, although white thunderheads gathered in the south. The last of yesterday's storm had evaporated from the streets as he reined Lucky down Second.
Jed Black, his fellow deputy just starting his evening shift, didn't tip his hat as he patrolled the boardwalk. Their friendship had been strained recently. Burke tried not to let that bother him as he adjusted his hat to cut the sun, but it did. It always did. One would think he had been on the outside looking in for so long, he would get used to it. He hadn't.
He drove past the feed store. Devin Winters was out sweeping in front of his shop. The shopkeeper took one hand off his broom to shake his fist in anger. There was no mistaking the contempt on the man's face. No doubt the story about Lorenzo's experience in the sheriff's office had gotten around town by now, another story added onto the others. To them he was showing himself to be a bad seed, just like the sheriff, and they weren't all that wrong. He tightened his grip on the reins, steeled his spine and prepared himself for what he had to do.
Chapter Fifteen
I
t was like being in one of her favorite novels, Lila decided as she turned the sign over in the front window. Her official first day as a store manager had successfully ended and her unofficial job as Burke's assistant was still going strong. She kept an eagle eye on the street as she grabbed the dry mop and began to clean the day's dust from the polished oak floor. The skirts of the nearby display rustled as she guided the mop beneath the table.
She noticed Scarlet's sage-green straw bonnet out of the dozen others crowning the heads of women hurrying about the last of their errands. She unlocked the door and swung it open just as Scarlet swirled to a stop beneath the shop's swinging sign.
"I had to come see!" She tugged at her bonnet ribbons as she waltzed in. "Ma said you were doing a spectacular job, and she's right. You look as if you belong here."
"I feel that way." She eased the door shut and whirled her mop into the corner. "No pickled herring barrel to clean. No Eunice. I can sew or read if all my other work is done between customers."
"That's nice." Scarlet gestured toward the small front counter, where a paperback novel sat, pages ruffled. "You look happy, Lila. I'm glad for you. You have no notion how much I've been praying for you."
"And I for you." Her dear, dear friend. What would she be without Scarlet and the rest of the gang? She had grown up with them as her closest friends and they were a big part of who she was. She was a better woman because of them. The Lord had blessed her greatly that first day in Sunday school when they had met as small children and again the day Meredith first came to school. And finally, when Ruby joined them. "There have been so many changes lately, it feels like ages since we were all together."
"I think we should meet in your new rooms for our next sewing circle gathering." Scarlet stopped to admire the display of rich velvets in a dozen different colors. "I have enough lace made for a hat. Ma was right about this fabric. It would be perfect for brim lining."
"You have a new project to start on and I'" She glanced toward the window. A lone horse and driver pranced down the street, but it wasn't the bank robber. Her heart skipped because it was Burke.
"You're in love with him, aren't you? You don't have to say it. I can see that you are." Scarlet studied the ends of her bonnet's ribbons. "I think he's a bad man and I'm worried for you."
"He's not bad. He's a good man. One of the best." She watched the black mustang stride closer and then Burke on the buggy seat, holding the reins. Dressed in black, he appeared as dangerous as a bandit. A five-o'clock shadow darkened his angled jaw and his capable hands drew the horse to a stop at the hitching post. Dangerous, yes, but how could anyone not see the integrity radiating from him? "You don't know him as I do, but if you did I'm sure you would agree."
"Everyone has some good in them. That's not in question." Scarlet turned to watch Burke hop down from the seat. "It's a matter of the bad. I don't think a man like that is good for any girl."
Scarlet's heart-shaped face pinched in a perfect picture of loving concern. Her soft red locks floated with the hot puff of wind as she opened the door. "Don't be mad at me," she begged.
"I'm not. I love you, Scarlet." She was beginning to see what love really was. An action, not an ideal. A concern for others instead of one's self. Standing for what was right, regardless of how hard that may be.
Burke's boots tromped on the boards. Her soul turned to him. She was helpless to stop it. He walked in larger than life, her very own hero.
"I should go." Scarlet squeezed her arm gently as if in a plea. Her skirts rustled as she wove around Burke without saying hello to him. In time, she told herself, Scarlet would understand. One day everyone would know the Burke she esteemed.
"I'm almost done. Two more seconds." She gripped the mop, guided it along the far wall and back again. "There. Now I can go."
He didn't smile. The lines of his face were harsh and his midnight stare remote. Tension corded the tendons in his powerful neck.
"Is everything all right?" She stowed the mop in the little closet by the counter, withdrew her bonnet and closed the narrow door. "You look as if you had a difficult afternoon."
"Nothing I can't handle." His attempt to smile failed.
She could feel his pain in the stillness. She thought of what Scarlet had said and what others had to believe about him. The story of Lorenzo's cattle had spread like wildfire through town.
"You don't have to handle it alone." She touched his shoulder. Beneath her fingertips, he was as strong as a mountain and felt just as distant. "You have me."
A tick pulsed along his whisker-rough jaw. His gaze pinched, poignant. He looked like a man waging an inner battle. As if he could not allow himself to believe her.
Trust me, she pleaded. She wanted to be what he needed, his shelter in a storm, a soft place to fall, a love he could always believe in.
"You undo me," he choked, wrapped a hand around her nape and drew her against his chest. There, she breathed in the soap scent of his clean shirt and savored the sweetness of his embrace.
Don't let this end, Lord.
She squeezed her eyes shut, holding him tight, holding on with prayer.
Don't let me lose him. Let him love me enough to stay.
Burke pressed a kiss to her forehead. His reserve evaporated and he held her tight for one revealing moment before he broke away.
"I have a picnic place picked out. Let me show you." He offered her his arm and she accepted it. Hearts beating in synchrony, they headed outside. She locked the door and they drove off in the buggy together.
"
Winds stirred the grasses in a rustling song as Burke reined Lucky to a stop. The mustang lifted his nose to smell the meadow full of nodding flowers, chirping birds and cool dappled shade from the orchard trees. The fragrance of ripening apples and plums mingled with the summery aromas of sun-warmed grasses and the first blackberries ripening in heaping falls over what used to be a livestock fence.
"The old Holbrook place." On the seat beside him, Lila bounded to her feet. The pale pink calico dress she wore, sprigged with pale blue and yellow flowers and adorned with silk ribbons, dainty lace and pearl buttons made her belong in this meadow dotted with small blue buds, yellow sunflowers and wild roses. "I haven't been here in ages."
"Did you know the family?" He hopped down and reached up to catch her. The sunlight bronzed her as he lifted her, dear in his arms, and set her gently on the ground. Her sweetness filled him and became a part of him.
"No one knows the family." Daisies waved at her ankles as she grabbed the rolled blanket beneath the wagon seat. "There were children about my age, but they never attended school. One day they moved away. Some folks said there was a tragedy. Another said financial hardship. But the property was never sold, no one came to tend it. It's sat here forgotten for as long as I can remember."
"A mystery." It was a mystery how he would ever end things. He hefted the basket and the jug while larks sang and a gopher popped out of his hole to watch them curiously. "You've been here before?"
"As kids, we would come to pick the fruit and eat the berries." She strolled among the wildflowers, her skirts fluttering in the breeze. "Scarlet would climb high into the trees to get the best fruit. She was fearless. Heights didn't scare her. I'm not sure if anything does. We would stand at the fence nibbling on apples or plums and dream about our lives to come."
"What did you dream?" He set down his load and took the blanket from her. Gave it a snap.
"Isn't that a little personal?"
"You're blushing." The edges of the blanket fluttered in the wind.
"I was thirteen." She caught one edge and they both walked backward, drew the blanket tight and lowered it to the ground. "And yes, I'm blushing."
"I'm curious. Now I have to know." The breeze tried stealing the edges of the blanket, but he anchored it with the jug of lemonade and a nearby rock before striding over to help Lila anchor her corners.
"Let's just say it involved a fairy-tale ending and leave it at that." She kept her foot on the blanket corner and stretched, trying to reach a rock.
"I hear those kind of endings are popular with you ladies." He hefted up the rock and set it in the appropriate corner. When he straightened, his shadow fell over her. She gazed up at him with tenderness. Tenderness.
"Everyone deserves a happy ending." She searched him, as if she could look into his soul. No one had gotten closer in decades. Her caring felt as sustaining and as tangible to him as the sun blazing down.
"Not everyone." The words ripped past his constricted throat. Could she see the scars that had never healed? The wrongs he'd committed?
"Yes, everyone who believes in Him.
And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God.
" Her treasured answer proved she could not see into the darkest reaches, where his secrets lurked. Her love gentled him, shining in her eyes, smiling on her lips, whispering without words from her heart.
He wanted to believe. He wished for nothing more than to be able to slip off his past like a shirt he no longer wanted and simply let go. But the wrongs he'd done were a part of him, something he could not shed.
He wanted to be a part of her world, where goodness reigned and life could be wholesome and safe. Where wildflowers fluttered in a prairie breeze and dreams really could come true.
Not his dreams. He could not be in her life. Before he could gather the words, she spun away, taking his heart with her.
"I kept a close eye on the street," she said as she knelt to pluck a wild rose from its stem. "As close of an eye as I could while I worked. I may have missed a few things, but I still saw enough to make a list. Want to see it?"
"Sure." The word came out rough. The pressure in his throat increased. He tried to swallow but couldn't.
"I had the best time." With the rose in one hand, she pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket with the other and handed it to him. "I saw two different men wearing spurs. Spurs aren't common around here. Dobbs wears them, and a few other men in town, but I didn't recognize these men. I wrote down their descriptions as best I could."
"This is great, Lila. The Pinkertons should know about you." The details she'd scribbled down could have described a lot of men, but they also fit exactly two wanted men he knew rode with Slim's gang. One of them could have been Cheever. They must have been dressed to blend in with the ranchers and working folk, doing reconnaissance for a future job.
Not going to happen, he thought, remembering the telegram he'd burned. Tomorrow reinforcements would come, they would arrest Dobbs, round up Slim's gang and stop the violent crime plaguing this little corner of the territory.
"It was like being an adventure-novel heroine." She plucked a sunflower, the stem snapping crisply. "You must feel like this every day."
"Most days the work is mundane, but now and then a mission gives me a few high points." He tucked her note into his pocket. "Meeting you has been one of them."
"Your eyes are sad."
"I suppose they are." All of him was sad, down to the soul. The flowers in her hand drew his attention. The sunflower's satin yellow petals opened to the light just as his heart was open to her. If she could see his sorrow, then she could see more. "Do you know how I feel about leaving?"
"I do. I'm going to miss you." Her words quivered, as if she were fighting emotion she did not want revealed.
To him, all was revealed. He swallowed hard against the lump rising higher, the tangle of emotions he did not dare feel. He was loved. Lila loved him. Her devotion shone through when she gazed up at him, looking at him as if he were somebody to her, somebody ten feet tall, her beginning and her end. He was her beloved, and she was his.
A dream he could not keep.
He could not dwell on the day to come when he would tie his belongings to the back of his saddle, ride Lucky away from town and never look back. If he stayed in this moment, if he made it last as long as possible then he could hold on to Lila.
"I fear this is our last evening together." She came into his arms just as he reached out to draw her closer. "That's why you seemed remote earlier. You were going to tell me tonight."
"Yes." His arms folded around her. "I just learned the news."
"We always knew you would go." She laid her cheek against his chest. The slight coarseness of his muslin shirt felt comforting. "You don't form any lasting ties."
"I'm not a settling-down kind of man."
"That is too bad." She fought the grief threatening to consume her. If she kept her tone light, he would never know how deeply she'd fallen for him. She'd tumbled so far there was no coming back. "If you were that kind of man, then we could have stayed in touch. Exchange letters. Form a long-distance friendship."
"That would have been nice." His muscles tensed. Tendons corded. His voice sounded strained. "It would be better for me if we ended things the way they are. Then what we feel right now can be a memory marred by nothing, the best one I've ever had."
"Or me." She squeezed her eyes shut, not ready to let this end. Tears balled in her throat but she wouldn't let them rise.
Please don't go,
she silently pleaded,
don't let this end.
As if he felt the same, he clung to her. She listened to the drum of his heart, thudding in time with hers, and felt the rise and fall of his chest, as they breathed in the same rhythm. They were so similar, and like harmony and melody they were not quite complete unless they were together.