Carolyn Davidson (18 page)

“Well, what I’m trying to say is, if you wanted to now…you know. well, it would be all right with me.”

A sense of supreme well-being surged through Quinn Yarborough. His only wish right now was that the happiness he held within his arms at this moment would last for an eternity. He rolled with her, rising above her to brush his mouth against her face, tasting the faint flavor of her skin.

“Erin.” His mouth suckled at her lower lip, and she whimpered. “Sweetheart.” He nibbled at the lobe of her ear and nuzzled against it. She moaned, a soft, desperate sound deep within her throat, and he felt the surging power of his arousal spring into being.

It was no good, he decided morosely. The baby dozed fitfully beside the bed, their hosts slept just beyond a thin wall, and his own needs were going to have to be put in abeyance for now.

“Baby? We can’t do this now,” he murmured with
regret. “When we make love again, I want to have a long night ahead of us and someplace more private than this. I don’t want Sheriff Mason knowin’ what I’m doin’ with my wife, while I’m doin’ it.”

She wiggled, her hands rising between their bodies to push against him in a futile gesture. He pressed her into the mattress with his weight, his mouth against her ear.

“Hush, sweetheart!” he whispered. “Don’t make the bed jiggle that way.”

“Quinn Yarborough!” She made the whisper sound like the voice of doom, and he sighed. “What a way to talk!”

“Don’t you go gettin’ mad at me.” He breathed the words in her ear and she shivered.

“You’d think I was trying to talk you into something,” she hissed.

He chuckled, enjoying the movement of her slender form beneath him, even as he bemoaned the discomfort he would live with for the next little while.

“Don’t wiggle like that, honey,” he pleaded softly.

“Then just get yourself off me,” she told him, her voice rising a bit.

“Shh…hush now.” The urge to laugh aloud was almost more than he could contain and he rolled to his side, drawing her with him, his arms enclosing her in a grip she had no chance of breaking.

Not that she seemed in a mood to. She settled against him and sighed. “For married folks, we surely haven’t done much. you know.”

“You may not understand this, Erin, but holding you gives me more pleasure than the thought of makin’ love with a passel of women, and that’s the truth.”

“A passel of women?” She drew out the words in a
taunting fashion, and he cringed as he considered the implication she had drawn.

“Now, I didn’t mean it that way. I haven’t been with that many.” Somehow he felt he was becoming mired in a mud hole he might never escape, and he began backtracking. “You’re my wife, sweetheart. I’ll never look at another woman, so help me. What I meant was that I’d rather cuddle up with you, and put up with hurtin’ a bit, than anything else in this world. For right now,” he amended quickly.

“For right now?”

He nodded. “But just you wait till I have you all to myself, with no one around to hear, and the baby sound asleep.”

From the laundry basket beside their bed, Robert snuffled and cried out, subsiding quickly as he found his hand. He suckled against his fingers for a moment, and Erin sighed.

“He’s going to want to eat.” She rolled from Quinn’s embrace and reached over the side of the bed to lift the infant to her side. She undid her gown, preparing herself for nursing, whispering soft, cajoling words to pacify the baby. Then, with a sigh of contentment, she brought him to her breast and inhaled sharply as he drew her nipple into his mouth.

“Does it hurt?” Quinn asked from behind her, rising on one elbow to peer over her shoulder into the darkness.

She giggled, and he buried his face against her shoulder, wishing for just a moment that he were the supplicant, and that Robert were tucked away, dreaming whatever dreams babies enjoy in the middle of the night.

His grumble was halfhearted as he slipped one arm under her head and drew her back against his chest and
belly. His legs cradled her thighs and he settled his other hand against Robert’s back, holding him in place.

“Quinn?” Her whisper bore a wistful note and he smiled in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“What will we do? What if the judge finds me guilty? Will you take Robert? Or will they let me take him with me?”

He rocked her in his arms for a moment. “Don’t borrow trouble, honey. That judge is just letting old Toby dig himself a hole. Once we find my horses up at the mining camp tomorrow the game will be over, and Toby’s gonna be in deep trouble.”

“What if they’re not there?”

“They’ll be there. I have to believe that, Erin. What we need to be thinking about is where we’re going from here. If you want to go back up to the cabin for the rest of the winter, we can do that. For myself, I’d rather think about finding a house here in town till the weather breaks. How about it, honey? What do you think?”

She was quiet for a while, so long that he wondered if she had fallen asleep. And then she took a deep breath. “I love the cabin. It’s where I began to like myself again, Quinn. But it holds some bad memories, and I guess I’m not permanently attached to it.”

“That settles it, then. Once we get this whole thing cleared up, I’ll find us a place to live and we can settle in until the snow melts and it warms up. If you want to move back up the mountain then, we’ll see about it.”

Robert’s small body squirmed beneath Quinn’s hand and Erin pushed herself erect, sitting up to place the baby on her shoulder to burp him. She listened for the bubble of air and then turned to her other side, offering her other breast.

“What about your business in New York?” she asked Quinn, facing him in the middle of the bed, the baby between them. Quinn’s features were a blur in the dim light, but she caught sight of his mouth, his lips tightening in a firm line.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to talk about that, honey. For right now, Joel Guinan has things under control, and he deposits my share of the profits in the bank every week. Later on, things may change.” He eased a little closer to the baby, slipping his long arm into place across Erin’s hips.

Her voice was hesitant. “I’m not sure I’ll ever want to live in New York City again. I don’t think I was cut out for all that hubbub and fuss and bother. And for sure I’m not interested in anything to do with society.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, I can’t say that afternoon tea holds much interest for me, either. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid high society. I spent most of my time in other parts of the country anyway.”

“You’ve traveled a lot, haven’t you?”

“Not pleasure trips, honey,” he said with a dry laugh. “I’ve chased down crooks and criminals from one end of the country to the other over the years, even before I settled in New York. It’s not the easiest way to make a living, but the money’s good.”

“How much was I worth?” she asked after a moment. Her voice sounded wistful to his ear, and he was struck by a pang of guilt, that she would equate herself with any monetary value. Surely she knew that he had no desire to claim a reward for finding her for Ted Wentworth.

“I won’t be making a plugged nickel on you, sweet. My deal with Wentworth went down the drain a long time ago.”

“Does he know that?” She moved away from his touch to place the baby back in his makeshift crib, and Quinn’s hand clenched against the sheet.

“I haven’t communicated with him directly, but Joel Guinan has. I’m going to wire Joel and let him know we’re here for the duration. He can notify Ted and Estelle that I won’t be in communication with them any longer.”

“They’re going to be angry.” Erin snuggled back down in the warm nest of covers, and Quinn waited for her to move to his side.

“They weren’t honest with me, Erin. I started out after you blind. I don’t owe them a thing.” He felt the warmth of her body only a few inches away, but it wasn’t enough. Only the soft curving length of her nestled in his arms would satisfy the urgency of his need tonight. That he could not spend his desire within her was a fact he was willing to live with for now. But he wouldn’t settle for less than holding her throughout the long, dark hours that remained, before dawn sent him on his way up the mountain to the mining camp.

He reached for her, the few inches between them disappearing in a second as he molded her to his masculine form. She was pliable in his arms, soft and curving against his lean strength, and he caressed the line of her waist and hip with a firm touch. She was rounded nicely, he decided, her bottom fitting against him, cushioning the proof of his desire.

“Now, just close your eyes for tonight,” he whispered against the top of her head. “We’ll sort everything out after I ride up to Big Bertha tomorrow with the sheriff.”

“
S
o that’s where he is!” The owner of Big Bertha lived up to the image of his mine; he was a big man, and his voice boomed out in anger. Wayne Tucker ran a tight ship, as he had a reputation for saying, and the news that one of his men was residing in jail had put a ruddy hue on his broad face.

“Damn piker barely earns his way as it is. Forever whining and carrying on. I’d say jail’s the place for him.” His small eyes were narrowed as he considered the sheriff and Quinn. “What’d he do?”

Sheriff Mason glanced around the small community of mining shacks. “You got any extra horses around here you can’t account for?”

Wayne Tucker hesitated. “You’re telling me Jones brought stolen horseflesh into my camp?” If possible, his face grew even more florid.

“I’m missing a packhorse, a bay with a wide blaze, and a stud, chestnut with a pale mane and tail. Someone took a shot at me the other day and left me for dead. Took my horses.”

“Say, ain’t you the fella brought Russ Hogan’s body
back last week? I caught sight of you when you was riding out.”

Quinn nodded. “He and Toby Jones threatened my wife, and Hogan got shot for his trouble.”

The mine owner shook his head. “I thought Jones’s story sounded kinda fishy when he came back without Hogan last week. Jones said there was a gunfight, and he couldn’t get close enough to tote Hogan back here.”

“Well, Mr. Yarborough here says he thinks Toby Jones was the man that shot him from ambush,” the sheriff said. “If those two animals are here, it backs up his story, I’d say.”

The mine boss nodded slowly. “Poor pickin’s these days hereabouts. I’m down to a dozen miners now. Since the mother lode played out, we’re just cleanin’ up what’s left, and a man can’t be choosy about what he hires.” He rose from his chair in the cookhouse, leaving his half-eaten meal behind. “Let’s go out to the shed and take a look. There’s a dozen or so horses out there. Most of these men brought their own with ‘em, and I’ve got a couple of mules.”

The door slammed behind them, leaving the cook to his chores, and Quinn followed the sheriff and Wayne Tucker across the small clearing. It was cold this morning, with snow clouds gathering, and he pulled his collar high to keep out the bitter gusts of wind that swirled across the side of the mountain.

The memory of the woman he’d left behind nudged him, and he was warmed by it. Her face flushed in slumber, she’d answered his goodbye kiss with the soft pressure of her lips, opening her eyes in surprise as he knelt by the bed.

“You leaving already?” she’d asked in that whispery, early-morning voice of hers.

“Yeah, we need to get an early start. You take care of yourself and Robert, hear?” He’d wanted nothing more than to crawl back in that warm bed and. Well, that didn’t bear thinking about, he decided, reaching up to jam his hat down tighter over his forehead.

The first thing he wanted to do was find a place to put his family for the next couple of months. A house with furniture in it, namely a nice, comfortable bed, one that would hold two people, without a man’s feet sticking out over the end. Quinn’s grin was subdued as he assessed that thought. He was a married man, sure enough, thinking about sleeping with the same woman for the rest of his life.

The shed was shabby but weatherproof, and Quinn eyed the line of standing stalls with interest. Most horses looked pretty much alike from the rear end, except for color, but his stallion was seventeen hands Ought to stick out like a sore thumb in this row of ordinarylooking mounts.

Wide chestnut haunches caught his eye, along with a pale tail that was swishing as the big horse bent to snatch a bit of hay. Quinn stepped up closer. “Hey, there, boy. They feedin’ you all right?” His tone was quiet, but the horse turned his head as far as his halter rope would allow. A low nicker answered Quinn’s query, and Boss Tucker strode to his side.

“That your animal?” He eyed the stallion. “Can’t say I’ve seen him before. I don’t get in here every day, and we haven’t turned these horses out since the weather got bad.” He walked on down the line of stalls. “Here’s another stranger. Come take a look.”

The bay was broad backed and stocky, and Quinn sidled into the stall beside him. He grasped the halter, turning the horse’s head so that the other two men could
see the wide white blaze that almost covered the animal’s face.

“This is my wife’s packhorse, sure enough.” He released the halter and rubbed the wide forehead with his knuckles. “How you doin’, boy?”

The relief that flooded him kept Quinn stationary for a moment. He could barely restrain the shout that begged to be let loose on the cold air. Finding these horses was vindication enough for any fool, and Sheriff Mason had a head full of common sense, as far as Quinn could tell. Toby Jones might as well start packing for that Denver prison. Unless Quinn missed his guess, he was headed there in a hurry.

“I’m sure enough sorry I didn’t notice I was feedin’ a couple of strays, Sheriff,” Wayne Tucker said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “My men are allowed feed for their animals, and they take turns muckin’ out the place and feedin’, a week at a time.”

Sheriff Mason nodded, accepting the mine owner’s explanation. “Well, I don’t think you’ll be seeing much of Toby Jones anymore, Mr. Tucker. You’ve got yourself a new horse for your trouble, I’m thinking. He won’t have much use for it where he’s headin’. A man takes another man’s mount, he’s just about committed murder in these parts. Especially in the middle of winter.”

“Especially when he’s taken a potshot at the fella,” Quinn added.

“Get your horses together, Quinn. It looks like you’re pretty near in the clear.”

“Pretty near?” Quinn looked back at Sheriff Mason as he untied the packhorse.

“You’re still in hot water for leavin’ my deputy up there all alone.” Sheriff Mason shook his head in a mocking gesture. “Poor old Tater had to lead that cow
of your wife’s all the way to town the next day. Said he heard catcalls from half the folks in Pine Creek, wonderin’ what the cow’d done to get taken into custody thataway.”

Quinn grinned, too relieved at the outcome of this trip to worry about Tater Folsom’s feelings. “I’ll ride my stud and lead the other two back, Sheriff.” He turned to the mine boss. “Where’s the tack room, Tucker? I need to find my saddle.”

The livery stable had room for extra horses. Jeremy Tobin was always eager for business, the sheriff said, and Jeremy’s wide grin was proof of that prediction. He settled on a price with Quinn, then turned the stallion into a box stall at the back of his big barn.

“Nice-lookin’ piece of horseflesh,” Jeremy said. “Wouldn’t be interested in sellin’ him, I suppose?” His voice was wistful, an incongruous sound from such a giant of a man, and Quinn smiled, shaking his head in reply.

“No, we’ve come a long way together.” That his stud had ridden a lot of miles in a boxcar over the past couple of years was only the half of it.

“I’ll pay you by the week,” Quinn told the stable owner. “We may be in town for the rest of the winter.”

Sheriff Mason lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not headin’ back up to the cabin?”

Quinn shook his head. “I’m going to look for a place in town for a while. You know of anything empty that’d work out for us?”

“Matter of fact, I might. Let’s take a walk down the street here.”

“It’s got two bedrooms, Erin. A real house, with a lean-to for doing the wash and a big fireplace in the
parlor. There’s water in the house, and the outhouse is clean.”

Erin’s eyes sparkled as she heard the news. She’d run to Quinn as he came in the kitchen door, her arms winding around his neck as she stood on tiptoe to hug him in welcome, only to flush and duck her head when Alice Mason chortled a teasing remark.

“Did you find the horses?”

Quinn nodded. “Don’t know what he thought he was going to do with them. The man who was feeding the stock and cleaning the barn said he thought Toby was planning on selling the packhorse and his own gelding and keeping my stud. But I guess we’ll never know for sure now. Doesn’t matter, anyway. Where he’s going, he won’t have need of a horse for a while.”

“Horse stealing’s a hanging offense,” Alice said bluntly.

Quinn laughed. “Damn horses are worth more than my scalp.”

“Not to me,” Erin retorted, and then looked away, as if she had given voice to a hidden thought.

“You’re pretty fond of me, lady. Don’t try to deny it,” Quinn said with a chuckle, squeezing her tightly. If they were alone, he’d be tempted to trundle her off to the bedroom and see if he couldn’t get her to admit more than that. Fond wasn’t what he was after from Erin Yarborough. He suspected she was pretty taken with him, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until she said the words right up front.

“I’ll be more fond of you when you get us moved into that house you’ve been bragging about,” Erin said smartly, pushing at Quinn’s chest, freeing herself.

He released Erin reluctantly, good manners prevailing.
It wasn’t quite the thing to be hugging in front of the sheriffs wife, even if Alice did have a big grin on her face. “We’ve got to wait until we go before the judge in the morning, honey. We’re still technically prisoners, you know.”

Erin’s face sobered. “Is there any chance we won’t be free tomorrow?”

Quinn shook his head. “I doubt it. In fact, the sheriff said I could plan on staying here. He’s over at the jail, giving Toby Jones the bad news now.”

“I think we’re gonna celebrate tonight,” Alice said cheerfully. “Reckon I’ll bake us a big cream cake, and put a roast in the oven for supper.”

“Ma’am, you may have me for a star boarder, if you keep that up,” Quinn teased. Not likely, though, he thought. The idea of privacy was looking better and better.

“He’s giving you back the retainer? What does that mean?” Estelle Wentworth asked icily. She stood in front of the bay window, facing her husband.

“Just what I said,” Ted replied. “Joel Guinan came by my office today and gave me a draft for the full amount of Quinn’s retainer. Said he was off the case. He’s going to send me a full report of what he found.”

“Where is he? Did he find her? Has she had the child yet?” Estelle’s eyes were narrowed and dark with anger as she fired questions at her husband.

“Guinan didn’t say. All he told me was that I’d be getting a report from Quinn in a couple of weeks.”
“And you’re going to sit around and wait for that crook to.”

“He’s not a crook, Estelle.” His tone was firm as Ted’s temper flared. “What would you like me to do? Chase him down?”

“Are you willing to give up claim to your grandchild that easily, Mr. Wentworth? It’s Damian’s child that Irish creature was carrying when she left here. Somewhere, she’s hiding the last surviving trace of our son. If she isn’t living in a shack someplace, I’ll eat my hat. And that baby is probably. Well, it makes my heart hurt just to think of Damian’s child being raised by that woman.”

“That woman,
as you put it, was married to our son, Estelle. She certainly isn’t going to neglect her child.”

Estelle’s eyes glittered with blind hatred. “You said you thought there might be reason to think Damian’s death wasn’t an accident, Ted. What if she pushed him down those stairs? Is that the kind of mother our grandchild should have?”

“I’ll talk to Guinan again. See if I can find out anything at all.” Ted Wentworth’s shoulders were bent as he turned from his wife, as if the burden he bore weighed him down.

“I find no reason to hold you, Mrs. Yarborough. That jackass Jones has lied about everything else. No reason I should take his word against yours. We’ll call it justifiable homicide and close the case.” Judge Herbert Beal’s gavel struck the table with a resounding crack, and Erin drew a deep breath.

She turned to Quinn, fearful that one sympathetic look from him would set loose a geyser of tears, hoping he would simply take her hand and lead her out of this place. Quinn’s eyes were alight with satisfaction, and his smile was wide as he nodded at her.

“Nothing to it, ma’am. That judge knows an honest woman when he sees one.” He grasped Erin’s outstretched hand and drew her to his side.

“Just a minute, young man,” Judge Beal said soberly. “There’s a matter of tying up a sheriff’s deputy and taking his horse that needs to be settled before I can clear this docket.”

“Damn!” Quinn’s exclamation was whispered, but heartfelt nonetheless. He released Erin’s hand and walked to the table where the judge presided.

“Now, I understand that Mr. Folsom is not wanting to press charges against you, but the law is the law, and you broke it.”

Quinn nodded agreement. “I had to get to my wife, sir. I don’t have any other defense but that. I didn’t harm Tater in any way, and I made sure he could get loose in a matter of minutes. He was left in a warm cabin with food to spare, and I figured the sheriff would send someone up to get him in a day or so.”

“That all sounds very nice and thoughtful of you, young man, but the fact remains that you took the man’s horse.”

Quinn swallowed the impatience that threatened his good sense. “I know I did, sir, but the truth is, I didn’t steal it I brought it right here to town and left it at the livery stable for him.”

The judge looked past Quinn to where the sheriff and Tater Folsom stood. “You got anything to say about this, Sheriff?”

“Seems to me this is where those things called extenuating circumstances might come into play, Your Honor,” the sheriff said slowly. Tater grinned and nodded his agreement.

“Hmm.” The judge glanced at Quinn again, then turned his attention to Erin, who had moved to stand beside her husband. “Young woman, you got anything to say about this?”

“My husband came to me because he was worried about me being in jail. He rode down that mountain with a bullet wound in his head. Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Damn, Erin! I knew—”

“That’s enough, young man!” the judge said firmly. “I think your wife might have something there.” He peered at the sheriff. “This might be that extenuating circumstance you were spouting about a minute ago, Sheriff. Mr. Yarborough obviously was acting irrationally because of his head wound. I reckon we can understand that. And since he already spent two nights in custody, we’ll just dismiss those charges, too.” With another bang of his gavel and a loud “Case dismissed,” he turned to the sheriff once more.