Heart of Mine (Bandit Creek) (11 page)

He swelled within her.

"Is that the way of it, then, Mrs. Evans?" he teased.

She raised her hips, gasped as he slid deeper. He chuckled, wrapped his arms around her. His mouth opened on her ear. "I hated thinking we'd done this and I couldn't remember." He laved her neck; bit her earlobe. "I'm so glad I didn't miss anything."

He slid out of her, plunged back in. Again and again. "Bend your knees," he whispered and when she did she swore she felt him at her heart. Right where he'd always been.

Moving as one, Jake set a faster pace. Their hips rocked together, their breathing filled the room. Their skin was slick with passion. And when Laura reached the pinnacle, when Jake's buttocks tightened and he spilled his seed inside her, there was no doubt that this was a moment neither would forget.

***

The sky was heavy with gray clouds and the wind howled outside the window of Jake's room. The dreary weather didn't affect Laura; she had more than enough light in her heart. She took in the rumpled sheets, remembered in vivid detail everything she and Jake had done in that bed, and leaned against the doorframe with a sigh. He hadn't been mad at her. He'd discovered the truth and instead of being angry and hurt, he'd been happy and relieved. And he'd spent the rest of the night making love to her.

Laura bit her lip as those memories teased her body, re-awakened her desires. Jake had only left for work an hour ago and already she couldn't wait for his return, couldn't wait to be back in his arms. Smiling, she pushed off the frame and began stripping the bed. Their bed. He'd made it clear when he'd kissed her goodbye that her days of having her own room were over. She couldn't be happier. Once she had the sheets laundered, she'd move her things into his room.

With a song on her lips Laura heated water for laundry, cleaned the breakfast dishes and tidied the house. After stoking the stove and hanging the clean sheets on the backs of the kitchen chairs, she moved her effects into Jake's room, taking extra care with the new clothes he'd bought her. Several times she stopped mid-process to simply look around. This was happening, it was truly happening! She was Jake Evans' wife in every sense of the word.

Dresses hung and everything else folded in the dresser, Laura changed into her new split skirt. Jake had asked her not to go out today, said it looked as though they were in for a spring snowstorm, which was known to drop several feet of snow at once, but Laura didn't plan on going far. Even if was only around the barn and corrals she wanted to take Ben out. She was going to take
her
horse for a ride. The clock on Jake's dresser showed it to be half-past twelve, but Laura had no desire to eat. Not with all the excitement she had dancing in her belly.

Her pleasure shattered like glass when she stepped into the kitchen and saw the vase on the kitchen table. The vase that normally sat on the mantle. The vase that held Jake's money.

"No!"

Even anticipating the futility of it, Laura raced to the table, grabbed the vase. The money she'd put inside was gone.

"Damn him!" Laura cursed, anger throbbing in her chest. Her father must have snuck in when she'd been upstairs, oblivious to everything but her happiness. Now he'd gone and thrown a dark cloud over it.

"That's the last time he interferes in my life." Laura grabbed her old jacket--she didn't want to get her new one dirty--shoved a hat on her head and opened the door. The wind howled in her ears. Fat, wet flakes splattered against her cheek. Jake was right. They were in for a storm.

"Then I'll just have to hurry," she said because she wasn't changing her mind. Laura ducked her head and fought her way through the gale to the barn. She'd take Ben out as she'd planned, but instead of riding around the barn she'd head straight to Sheriff Wilson's. Laura was going to deal with her father once and for all. Even if that meant seeing him in jail for stealing. Maybe then he'd get the message.

Laura jerked the barn door open and came to an abrupt stop. Ben was out and already saddled.

Her father, left eye black and nearly swollen shut while the other glowed red with seething anger, held the reins. Hugh's bottom lip was cracked and scabbed over; an angry red gash split his right cheek. While she didn't take joy in seeing him hurt, she knew she wasn't responsible for it either. He'd made his bed.

Laura's mind played through the many times he'd taken her earnings only to come home with something new and shiny while she and her mother went without. It had never occurred to him to feel guilt. He was too busy enjoying the fruits of their labors. And he'd gotten away with it. But no more.

"Get away from my horse."

"This is yours?" Hugh's righteous smile, the way he stroked a proprietary hand down her animal's neck made her sick. And it scared her. If he took it in his head to steal Ben she'd fight, but she knew she'd lose. Bruised or not, her father was stronger.

"You've already helped yourself to the money in the house. Why can't you just go?"

"Because I haven't gotten what I came for yet."

She was terrified to ask, but she couldn't very well think of a plan if she didn't know what she was up against. "Which is?"

"We're going to town. You, me, this fancy new horse and the one I've got tied out back. I don't suggest fighting me on this, either. Be a shame if something were to happen to him." Hugh pulled a six-shooter from his pocket and aimed it at Ben.

Laura's heart lurched. Tears smarted her eyes. He wasn't bluffing and Laura knew it. Still it didn't explain why he wanted her to go to town. "Jake knows everything. If you take me to Sam, Jake will come for me."

Hugh's guffaw startled Ben, who tried to sidestep away. Her father yanked hard on the reins.

"Whoa, Ben," Laura soothed, afraid of what her father would do if the horse didn't settle down.

When the animal stopped fighting him, Hugh returned his attention to his daughter. "Why would I bother with the pittance Sam would give me when I can get more from you? I saw you coming from First Citizens Bank yesterday. Scuttlebutt is Jake added your name to his accounts." He pulled the trigger of the gun. The click was loud as a gunshot to Laura's ears. "Is that true?"

"Yes," she answered, fast as the words could come. Dear Lord, she prayed, don't let him shoot. "Yes, he did. Please, don't hurt Ben."

Hugh's eyes were as black and cold as the barrel of his weapon. "Then do as I say. We go now. I want to be out of Bandit Creek before this turns into a blizzard."

***

By the time they reached Bandit Creek, Laura's feet were freezing and her eyes were watering from the cold. Her fingers throbbed in her mittens and her teeth wouldn't stop chattering. But salvation was within her grasp. She'd have to be careful, but if she could somehow relay her predicament to the teller without alerting Hugh, the sheriff could be notified before she and her father got too far out of town.

A gust of wind blew into the bank with them but once the door closed, warmth fell onto Laura's brittle cheeks. She stomped the snow from her boots, pulled off her mittens, forced her curled and frozen fingers open and hurriedly took stock. No patrons waited in line. The counter was also devoid of customers. Two tellers had looked up from their work on their arrival, one of which was the same that had served her and Jake the previous day. A horrible realization hit Laura when the workers turned to each other and smirked as an unspoken assessment passed between them.

They'd expected this.

Still, if she told them to call the sheriff, told them she wasn't there of her own accord then--

"If you try anything funny, Laura, I have more than one bullet. You don't want the death of those young men on your hands, do you?"

She shuddered as the grisly possibility clearly filled her mind.

"Now get moving, and keep to the plan." The words chafed her ear before her father shoved her. Lurching forward, Laura stumbled a few steps before righting herself. As she approached the counter, the sneer on the teller's face intensified.

Clasping her mittens in her thawing hands, Laura reached the counter.

"Miss Gibbs," the teller said, his tone thick with derision.

"It's
Mrs. Evans
," she corrected, hoping he'd see through her correction where her loyalties lay.

"Of course." The teller's lips twitched as he tried to control his smile. "What can I do for you,
Mrs. Evans
?"

Hugh's hand coiled tightly around her arm. The warning was clear.

Laura swallowed her rising panic. How was she going to get her message across that she needed help? Keeping her head as still as possible, she cast her gaze from Hugh's hand to the teller's face. When she looked at the bank employee, she widened her eyes as if to say, "Look, this isn't my idea."

He blinked at her, seemingly bored. Desperation bubbled in her throat. Laura tried signaling again.

"Tell the man what you came for, Laura." Her father's words were colder than the winds outside. His hand clamped harder around her arm.

She gave the sum to the teller and tears burned behind her eyes when he ran his disgusted gaze from her to her father. How could she convince this man she needed his help if he already believed she was a conspirator in stealing from Jake?

"Of course,
Mrs. Evans
. I'll be right back."

There were whispers as the other teller joined him in the back room, where the vault was kept. There was little doubt that they felt she was there willingly, that she had been, after all, only interested in Jake's money.

If they believed it, would Jake be any different when he discovered his money and his wife were missing? He wouldn't, Laura knew with a sinking of her heart. He'd assume, as the teller had, that Laura's only goal had been his wealth. He'd never believe she'd been forced. Worse, he'd surely think she'd been lying when she'd professed her love to him.

Which meant he wouldn’t bother searching for her either.

***

"You keep picking at that food instead of eating it, Jake, and it'll get cold as the wind that's blowing outside."

Jake looked up from his meal, set his fork next to his plate. The Golden Nugget was known for its food but despite the savory aroma, the pork chops and applesauce remained untouched. He'd delayed his usual one o'clock dinner with his grandfather because he'd been late coming in from the mine office, needing to make up for some of the time he lost yesterday and the late start he'd had that morning. As he hadn't eaten since breakfast, he should have been famished. Instead the last thing on his mind was food.

Jake looked outside. They always sat at the same table and today the view of the street was bleak. Hardly anybody was about and those that were walked with their heads down and a determined pace to get out of the blizzard as fast as possible. It had only begun to snow forty-five minutes ago, but already the accumulation was enough to cover the street and hide any tracks within minutes of them being made. Sitting beside the window, he heard the whistle of the wind, felt the draft push its way inside. It was a day to stay home. To stay home in bed where it was warm.

"I suppose I have other things on my mind."

"Such as your bride?" Zachariah dabbed at his lips with his napkin, settled back into his chair. "That's a good thing you did yesterday."

Jake shrugged. "It's only money, Granddad."

Zachariah arched a brow at Jake's turnaround. "It's high time you realize that, Jake. I'm proud of you. Not only for sharing your wealth, but for realizing there's more to life than money."

"I didn't think I'd ever be this happy."

"Then take the rest of the day, Jake. Go be with your wife."

"I can't. I took yesterday. I'm behind as it is."

"Hell, you never had a honeymoon; you're entitled to more than one day off. Besides, look out there." They could barely see across the street for the amount of snow falling and swirling. "It's only going to get worse. Take some work home if it makes you feel better, but get out of here. And give my regards to Laura."

"I'll make it up to you, Granddad."

Zachariah rolled his eyes. "For the love of God, just go!"

Jake was just pushing away from the table when a sudden slap against the window made him jump. It was crazy Jack, the town drunk.

"Why doesn't he go find a corner, get out of this storm?" Zachariah wondered.

Jake didn't know and he didn't care. He was going home. His appetite had returned in full force but it had little to do with food. Ignoring the drunk, Jake came to his feet.

Suddenly his granddad reached across the table, grabbed Jake's wrist. "Jake, look."

Jack had his nose pressed to the glass. He blew out a breath, creating a cloud of vapor on the transparent surface. No doubt if odor could pass through a window Jake would be smelling whiskey about now. But his sarcastic thoughts died when, using a dirty, gnarled index finger that poked from his fingerless gloves, Jack starting writing something in the fog his breath had created.

Even backward Jake recognized his wife's name.

"Laura? What about her?" Jake yelled so Jack could hear him. He didn't care if the whole town heard his shout, though the storm had scared most people home and the restaurant only had a few occupied tables.