Rocky Mountain Widow (Historical) (18 page)

Liam arched a brow and wisely said nothing. James's coyote call skidded across the rolls and draws of the prairie, and several distant coyotes answered with their high-pitched howls.

“Time to move.” Joshua yanked on his glove, guiding General with the touch of his heel. “Let's get this over with.”

He kept to the draw of the hillside, staying just out of sight so they wouldn't be spotted over the ridge. The scraggly stands of cedar and pine hid their progress just enough so that they even surprised Jordan just beneath the top of the ridge that led directly to Claire's barn.

No words were necessary and it was too damn cold to bother talking. Joshua nosed General into the line, and they waited with the wind tossing around cedar limbs and hundred-year-old pines. It was as if the very earth was avenging the wrongs done to the woman safe and warm in her little house.

Joshua didn't dare break his concentration to look
over his shoulder, but he knew what he would find. Her lights would still be on; maybe she'd already changed into her nightgown and housecoat. With the wind moaning like a tortured soul, he could still feel the connection in his soul that bound them. Her sadness hit him like a ruthless gust. There wasn't much he could do to mend her sadness. But as he heard James's signal sail loud and clear overhead, he steadied his rifle and led his brothers over the ridge and into the path of the men who'd come to do harm.

“Hello, boys.” Joshua squeezed off a shot, and Reed Hamilton's revolver flew from his hand and hit the ground with a heavy thunk. “Deputy, if you draw that, I'll stop you.”

Logan looked fit to kill. “You got a reason to be drawing on me, Gable? I'm the law in these parts.”

“Not on this land. You are trespassing.” Joshua nodded to Liam, who was circling around the deputy to disarm him. “You know the law better than any of us. I'm within my rights to hang a horse thief I catch in the act.”

“Horse thieves? You're mistaken, Gable. We're just passing through.” Logan's one-sided smile was a slow curve of arrogance and cunning. He looked like a man who thought he could get away with anything. That he was above the law he enforced. “What are
you
doing on the widow's land? I'm helpin' the boys here to keep their sister-in-law safe. Put down your weapons and—”

“I know how you're gonna lie about this come morning,” Joshua said, not caring if he got in trouble with the town sheriff. What he cared about was leaving Claire
undefended and vulnerable to the greedy men hovering around the rocky land, eager to possess it.

And now Joshua knew why. Like Logan's land, Claire's property was along an old path north and into Canada. Rustled livestock could be herded, without crossing off Hamilton land, until they hit the border. And after that, money could be made at the Wickshaw auction.

I'll keep you safeguarded, Claire.
And he'd make sure these so-called men understood. There would be no more harassing of the gentle lady, whom he could still see clearly in his mind's eye and how pale she went at her confession.

“I don't suppose the sheriff is gonna believe his best deputy is in on a rustling ring,” Joshua said.

“Watch what you say, Gable.” Logan's eyes narrowed with an unmistakable warning. “The sheriff ain't likely to take kindly to a man like you threatening and harassing a lawman.”

“And the rightful owners of this-here land,” Rick Hamilton spoke up. “That makes you boys the trespassers.”

Joshua considered the way James was emptying all the bullets from Rick's Winchester. “You may be right about the land. We won't know until the attorneys are done arguing it out. But for now, the land is Claire's and I'm here to make sure it stays that way. James, did you get all the weapons?”

“Almost done, big brother.”

“Then listen up, boys.” Joshua paused while James divested Reed of his knives. “If you steal back those horses or do anything to harm that nice lady down there, we'll come hunting you down.”

“You can't threaten a deputy.”

“It's a free country, and I protect what's mine.” It was too late to take back those words, and in truth, he meant them. It was his job to protect Claire Hamilton. If not him and his brothers, then who? “Turn around and get off this land.”

“It's not your land,” Reed spit. “Not unless she's got your ring on her finger and even then, the joke is on you, Gable. This land belongs to my family.”

“If and when it does, then you can come back. But until then, if I see you on this land again, we'll shoot first and not even bother with this polite warning.”

“Yep, next time we'll be burying you right here,” Liam commented as he closed in and they stood together as brothers in an unyielding line. “No one'll miss you. They won't even know where to find your bodies.”

Joshua nodded toward Logan. “Stay away from the woman. We mean it.”

As the furious men spun their horses around on the path, Joshua stayed stoic and vigilant. He kept his rage under control, but it was hard knowing what those men stood for. How they behaved. Ham had been one of them, and it made Joshua sick to think about how Claire had been treated.

Joshua had always looked at marriage from the same perspective: his own. He didn't want a woman as domineering as his mother, as free-spirited and willful as his sister or as cantankerous and used to getting her own way as his gran. He had just about enough of those traits in women as he could tolerate. He provided for the
women in his life and he didn't begrudge his duty, but Lord knows those women weren't easy on a man.

He'd never taken much time to consider how hard some men were on their women. Claire's haunted look of pain and sorrow remained with him, shaming him, as he made sure Logan and the Hamilton brothers were well off the property.

Even late that night, warm, finally, in his bed in his upstairs room in his mother's house, Claire's sadness stayed with him. A heavy weight in his soul.

C
laire let the door of the church close behind her with a hollow thud. Hollow, like places in her heart would always be. There was no repairing some things. No way to go back and piece together a failed pregnancy.

At least now the pretty nightgowns and baby blankets and shirts she'd made for her little one would help keep another baby warm. The pastor's wife had been sure she could find a family needing new baby things.

And I can try to forget.
She'd been clearing out the cabin of memories, for no memories associated in that house could be good, and she'd saved the baby clothes for last. Folding away the little things into a crate had been too painful, and even now the bleakness of it tightened like a band around her chest.

That's done. I never have to do that again.
She didn't know why that made her feel more lost as she avoided the patches of ice on the shady steps and crunched through the snow. Only one more thing to do. Just one.

And then she could close the door and turn the lock
on the past. On the destruction that love—or rather, believing in love—had brought her.

Thor nickered a friendly greeting as if he sensed she could use a friend. And he was a friend she was grateful for. She loosened the knot and unwound the tether from the hitching post, allowing herself the comfort of burying her face in the warm heat of his neck.

His rough mane scratched pleasantly on her face, and the crushed velvet of his coat was a luxury as he nickered again, curving his neck to lay his head against her back. A horse hug. She held on tight.

“I missed you, my friend. I am so glad you're back with me again.”

With the wisdom of a good horse, Thor nodded sagely as she stepped away and climbed beneath the furs on the narrow board seat. As they headed down the quiet lane, she couldn't stand how his coat was still rough in patches and he was far too thin, but he'd weathered neglect better than his brother had. Loki was still too nervous and sickly to drive.

Thank heavens for Joshua. She'd never be able to remove the image of him riding tall through the night. Or how he'd steeped tea for her in her kitchen. How he looked as torn apart as she felt.

Whatever this connection was between them, she wanted it severed. She wanted it gone. Even now, the place in her heart where he seemed to be throbbed like a deep, untreatable wound. She wanted to let him go. But how did she cut him out of her soul?

“Claire.”

She jumped. She'd been so lost in thought she was sur
prised to see the blue-gray shadows on the dull snow and the bare tree limbs reaching like skeletal arms overhead.

Joshua? No, it couldn't be him. She blinked and the man on the horse in the street before her came into focus.

Deputy Anson Cooper Logan leaned on his saddle horn, as if to emphasize the holstered repeating rifle within easy reach. There was no mistaking his dislike. “You've just saved me a trip out to visit you.”

“What are you doing in town? I thought you spent most of your time at the trading post on the other side of the county.”

“Don't take that tone with me. Not when I've come in as a deputy and not as your husband's best friend.”

Foreboding twisted deep in her midsection. Claire tried to calm Thor, who was sidestepping in his traces as if he wanted to get as far away from Logan as possible. So she had her hands full and she nearly missed the gleam of triumph in the deputy's cold eyes.

He knew about Thor. Her stomach wrung tighter. Whatever he had to say was not going to be good news.

“I've been over to the sheriff's office. We've had a long discussion about you.”

Her grip tightened protectively on the reins, as if that could keep him from Thor. “What on earth would you have to discuss about me with the sheriff?”

“The fact that Ham's murderer still hasn't been caught. We've got a couple of suspects, you know. Not enough evidence, but let me tell you this. A woman cheating on her husband may be motive enough for murder.”

“What?”

“You were there on the property the night he was shot. In fact, there was just you and Hamilton there. And Joshua Gable came along, pulled a gun and shot your husband dead. Isn't that what happened?”

“No!” Horror coursed through her like black fear. She watched his attention slide again to Thor, a purebred Clydesdale worth more than Logan earned as a deputy in two years.

This was retribution, she knew that. And what he was accusing Joshua of—while heaven knew it could be true—he had no proof. None. Or he would have pulled this much earlier.

Just stay calm.
Fortunately staying calm was a skill she'd learned in her marriage, and it was useful now. “Logan. What is wrong with you? Have you been drinking?”

“The question is, what is wrong with you, Claire? Cheating on your husband. Shame on you.” Logan's manner grew harsher, a tough lawman scolding a criminal.

Except she was no criminal. And she was not as easily bowed. He'd only seen her as Ham's wife, placating him, working to keep the man from losing his temper. It hadn't been her choice, but it had been the consequence of her decision to marry. And there was no way on earth she was going to bow down to another man. To let any man, even an armed lawman, talk to her that way.

“Deputy, that is enough. You know good and well I was true to my husband—”

“How long have you and Gable been together?”

“Ham barely let me leave the house alone. I had no chance to have a liaison with anyone.”

“How long, Claire? How long did you want your husband dead?”

His face burned red with rage, but it was a sly and calculated one as well. Thanks to Hamilton, she had learned the difference. “This is a public street. You either take me to the sheriff's office or leave me be. You're out to make trouble and I know why.”

“I'm a law-abiding deputy. I don't make trouble.” With a cool grin, Logan eased back in his saddle, his purpose apparently fulfilled. “You best consider coming with me to the sheriff's office.”

“We both know I did not kill my husband.”

“We both know that if you didn't, I have evidence to arrest someone else.”

Her stomach turned at the darkness that seemed to drift off him like a foul odor. “You have no evidence and no witness.”

“I can pay for one.”

Her mouth hung open in shock.

“Here's the sheriff now. I know you figure Gable and his brothers will be riding to your rescue, but this is one thing he can't blame me for. You're the one who killed your husband.” His eyes were laughing at her. “Not even your highfalutin lawyer will be able to get you out of this. You should have let the Hamiltons have the land, Claire. And let me have your horses. A humble deputy has to make what money he can.”

Her mind was spinning. None of this made sense. Logan was a good liar, but the sheriff, surely he could
see through the truth. Logan was mad, that was all, and her attorney could sort this out. There was no need to panic. No need to worry. Liars didn't always win. She was innocent.

But Joshua… The blood iced in her veins. Joshua was not.

Coop Logan leered down at her, his malice palpable. He knew the position she was in. The stifling feeling pressed in on her as if from every direction. She was helpless. Trapped.

Just as she'd been as Ham's wife.

 

Joshua clamped his jaw tight in frustration. The women in his family were going to be the death of him. If it wasn't his grandmother getting into arguments in town or his mother with her list of ways to improve his life, his sleep, the right woman to marry, it was his sister, as bright as the sun in the flawless sky.

He was worried sick about her. She was so happy. If this marriage didn't turn out to be all she hoped it would, then it was a long, long way to fall. He didn't want to see disappointment and heartbreak hurt his Bets.

“This is the last trunk, I promise.” She snapped the latch and bounced up, shining.

Hell, she was beaming happiness.

“Joshua, you're frowning. Stop!” She laughed like a lark's trill and kissed his cheek. “I'm happy. Trust me for a change. You're not the only one who can make a good decision.”

“That man is not good enough for you. We both know it.”

“You're right. He's far too good for the likes of me. I'm just lucky he wants me to be his wife.” She swirled away in a cloud of yellow calico.

“This is too much happy for me.”

He hated how bright the sunshine was streaming through the window, as if to mock him while he knelt to heft the enormous trunk onto his shoulder. He'd protested, done everything he could to stop this relationship and, still, Betsy was determined. If he pushed her any harder to abandon her wedding plans, then he knew he would lose her.

“You didn't like me working as a laundry lady, and that worked out wonderfully.” Betsy led the way down the stairs, clearing away Jordan, who'd collapsed on a step to eat a cookie he'd stolen from her kitchen. “I met my Duncan on my laundry route.”

“See why it was such a bad idea?”

“You're glum because you were wrong about my business and my fiancé.” She held the door.

He shouldered through with the impossibly heavy trunk. “What did you put in this thing, anyway?”

“Go ahead and try to change the subject, but you are wrong every once in a while, my dearest brother.” She huddled on the front step in the cold wind. “I saw Claire today.”

Claire.
All thoughts flew out of his head. His toe jammed into the steel belt of the wagon wheel and pain jolted through his foot as the trunk tumbled from his shoulder.

The crash as it hit the wagon's tailgate said it all.
Betsy had mentioned the one thing that could rattle him. And she'd done it on purpose.

“Go inside. You don't have a coat.” He scowled, hoping he looked mad enough to send her inside so the subject of Claire wouldn't be debated and henpecked to death. “Go on. Git going.”

“I'm used to your bark, big brother.” When she should have scurried inside, she calmly swooped down the stairs, her gentle love for him undeniable. “What happened? Claire came by to leave off a wedding gift and your mare. I gathered from what she didn't say that you aren't courting her any longer.”

“I never was courting her.”

“Fine. Then, uh, calling on her.”

He gave the trunk a shove so it wedged up tight against the porch chairs he'd stacked in earlier. “I wasn't calling on her, either.”

“But I thought—”

“Everyone just assumed. I was helping Claire out, that was all. I had my reasons, but that's all it was.” He was lying to her. He was lying to himself. But damn it, it was easier than admitting the truth. Betsy was in love. She'd lost all rational sense. She'd never see his view of things.

It didn't matter anyway, because Claire understood. They just had to wait out whatever this attraction was. It would eventually fade. All things changed. All things ended. She had her life. He had his responsibilities. That was a lot to toss away on the chance a marriage might be a happy one.

He didn't have that much trust in anyone.

Different lives, different outcomes, different choices. They would never be. It was that simple.

“Claire told me that you boys stole her horses back for her.” That was Betsy, tenacious without end. She followed him up the steps and back into her house. “You wouldn't have risked so much unless she meant a great deal to you.”

“She does mean a great deal to me.” His confession startled him, mostly because he'd vowed never to admit it. Especially to himself. And because in saying it, he made it real, and in making it real, it hurt that much more.

“Oh, Joshua.” Betsy squeezed his hand, a comfort as always.

He was a man; he didn't need comfort. “I'll grab Jordan by the ear and haul him upstairs with me. We can fit that bureau on the back of the wagon.”

“Good news.” Betsy sighed, holding on to his hand as if she didn't want to let go. As if she could sense the deep well of sadness he didn't want to admit to having. “The road to my Duncan's house goes awfully close to Claire's home. You could stop on the way back and see her. Maybe you should see her, Joshua. Talk to her. I had so hoped you might find someone to love.”

“I don't need love. I need another hand around to help me out with the ranch.” It wasn't true; they both knew it. But it was easier to let the lie be than to erase it with the truth—that he needed Claire more than he could ever say, ever measure, ever believe.

And that's why he intended to send Jordan with the wagon. And stay behind to do the evening chores.

The less temptation, the better.

 

“Let's go over your story once more to make sure I have it right.” The sheriff hunkered down on the chair across the small scarred table. “You were coming home from town. The mare lost her footing on the hill.”

“There was an ice storm. It was slick.”

“The horse fell, the wagon wrecked and you were hurt.”

Images racked through her. She'd been pregnant. She'd been afraid for her baby. Joshua had come out of that storm like a mythical hero come to life. How could she mention his presence that night? How could she ever harm him?

She couldn't. She could not tell the truth since that would condemn him. There was no mistaking the Hamilton brothers, who were seated just beyond the metal bars at the sheriff's paper-strewn desk. If she mentioned Joshua was there that night, then they would hear. And they would leap to all kinds of wrong conclusions. Ones that could only hurt Joshua.

“I was pinned to the ground for a while.” Claire remembered every detail of how Joshua had stood up to Ham and defeated him. How Ham had fallen to the ground, bleeding, trying to shoot Joshua…and how he'd failed.