Outlaw's Bride (31 page)

Atwater's gaze traveled inward and after a few moments he nodded. “Two men. One of them … shot me.”

“Don't worry, we got them.”

Atwater's lips turned upward. “Thanks, Beaudry.” He tried to move, but stopped abruptly and groaned. “Is it bad?”

Clint shook his head. “Doc says you'll be fine. Hit the right shoulder. Nothing that won't heal with a little time.” He glanced around. “Want some water?”

“Yeah.”

Clint stood and went into the kitchen. He filled a glass with cold water from the pump. When he returned, he slid his hand behind the old man's head to raise it slightly and lifted the cup to Atwater's lips. The sheriff drank most of it.

“Thanks,” Atwater said.

Clint set the glass on a counter that held shiny medical tools, then returned to his chair.

“Didn't you leave?” Atwater asked, his voice stronger.

Clint grinned. “I came back.”

Atwater continued to stare at him.

Clint planted his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands. “I had to see her again.”

“Mattie?”

“Yeah.” He attempted a smile that fell short. “Guess I'm too late.”

Atwater remained silent for a long moment, then asked the same question Clint had asked himself. “Now what?”

“I don't know. I said I'd stay around for the wedding, but it's still two weeks away.” Clint met Atwater's gaze. “Orville Johnson asked me to fill in for you while you're laid up.”

Atwater's chuckle quickly changed to a grimace. “Didn't waste no time, did he?” He coughed raggedly.

Clint grasped the other man's arm firmly. “Take it easy. Just relax.”

Atwater's cough abated, though his face remained flushed.

“I told him no,” Clint said quietly, drawing back from the sheriff.

“What?”

“You heard me. I still have to track down a murderer. Besides, I don't want the responsibility again. I guess it was like you said—I just couldn't handle it.”

“Bullshit.”

Startled by the sheriff's outburst, Clint shook his head in confusion. “Make up your mind, Atwater.”

The older man reached out and gripped Clint's sleeve. “You were a damn good lawman, Beaudry.” He panted to regain his breath. “You just … got to realize you're only human … like the rest of us.” He released Clint and closed his eyes.

Clint turned Atwater's words over in his mind. He
had
been a good marshal until Emily's murder. He'd protected a lot of people; how many others would be dead if he hadn't done his job?

How many might have died today if he hadn't returned? Mattie could have been one of them. What hand had steered him back to Green Valley to arrive in the nick of time? His feelings for Mattie had triggered his return, but the timing was something fate or whatever controlled.

Just like Emily's death. The same hand of fate that had enabled him to save Mattie had not allowed Emily to live. Perhaps it
wasn't
his fault she'd died.

“Take my badge, Beaudry.” Atwater's low voice startled Clint. “You're the only one … I trust with it.”

“Why are you so sure you can trust me?”

Atwater opened his eyes and smiled. “Lawman's instincts.”

Clint chuckled. Reluctantly, he stood and walked over to the pile of Atwater's clothes. Picking up the vest, he stared at the badge. He'd vowed never to wear one again, yet here he was, considering pinning another badge onto his shirt. He glanced down at the Colt on his hip. Badge and gun went hand in hand.

What would Mattie think? Hell, what did it matter? She was marrying another man.

With trembling fingers, Clint unclasped the pin and removed the badge from Atwater's vest. He closed his fingers around it, and the star's points gouged into his palm.

His gaze flickered over to Atwater, who watched him silently, his shrewd eyes narrowed.

“You know what that badge stands for,” Atwater said softly.

Yes, he did. He understood the risks, but he also knew the good he could accomplish. Opening his hand, he pinned the badge to his black bib shirt, above his heart. His breath caught in his throat, but the badge felt … right.

It was all he'd had before, and it was all he had now.

“You can stay … at my place. Big enough,” Atwater said quietly. He dragged in a noisy breath and said, “She doesn't … love him.”

Clint walked back to the man's bedside. “Who?”

“Mattie and the doc.”

“She's marrying him.”

“Ain't the same thing.” Atwater stared up at Clint, his expression paternal. “If you love her … you can't let her … marry him.”

Clint pictured the stubbornness in Mattie's eyes and the pride that stiffened her spine when she'd told him she was certain about her decision to wed the doctor. Had there been love in her tone? Her eyes? He couldn't remember seeing it.

Yet she hadn't told Clint she loved him, either.

He sat back down in his chair and noticed Atwater's even breathing. The man had fallen asleep.

Clint crossed his arms and rested them against his chest. He had some pondering to do and some decisions to make. On one hand, he had the promise and his gun, and now a badge.

On the other was Mattie.

He heard the doctor's voice a few moments before the door opened. Without looking, he knew Mattie was with him. He could feel her presence like a ray of sunshine across his shoulders.

“How is he?” Clint asked when they entered the room.

“I sewed up the entrance and exit wounds. He'll be ready to stand trial,” Dr. Murphy assured him.

Clint stood and turned to face them, preparing himself for Mattie's reaction. Her gaze fell immediately to the badge and her eyes widened.

“You told Mr. Johnson you wouldn't do it,” Mattie said.

Clint shrugged. “The sheriff talked me into it.”

The doctor crossed over to Atwater's side. “How did he seem? Was he in a lot of pain?”

“Some, but he's a tough old coot,” Clint said fondly.

Mattie eyed him warily, as if she were looking at a stranger. “How long will you be sheriff?”

“As long as I need to be.”

Her violet eyes remained suspicious.

“Unless you want me to leave.” He offered her the challenge, prepared to go if she asked him to.

“It's a free country. You can do what you want,” she said coolly.

Clint squelched his smile. Same old Mattie—filled with enough pride to choke a horse. He had time to learn the truth, and he would, too.

“Since you're both back, I think I'll head on over to the bathhouse and scrub the trail dust off.” He sidled a glance at Mattie and noticed a pink flush in her cheeks. So he could still make her blush—that was a good sign. “By the way, where's Atwater's place?”

“Why?” Murphy asked.

“He said I could stay there. I figure it probably wouldn't be a good idea to stay at Mattie's, seeing as how she's engaged to you.”

Her pink cheeks bloomed to red.

Murphy scowled. “About a block down from the jail. The house needs painting, but it's in good shape.”

“It's the one with the rosebushes in front,” Mattie volunteered. “His wife used to raise them. She gave me some to plant at my place.” She glanced away, her eyes glistening suspiciously.

Clint resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss away her sadness. He wanted to take her fishing, and tease her about not baiting her own hook and allowing Fred the Second to get away. But more than that, he wanted to waltz with her in the middle of the night, then carry her to bed and make love until dawn.

“Didn't you say you were leaving, Beaudry?” Murphy's curt question broke into his pleasant musings.

Clint smiled lazily. “I'll stop by later this evening, see how he's doing.”

“
I'll
be here,” Murphy said.

His meaning was as clear as day. He didn't want Clint hanging around Mattie.

“Nice to see you again, Mattie,” Clint said, allowing his gaze to roam from her head down to her toes and back up.

He turned and sauntered out of the office, pausing on the boardwalk to listen to Mattie's and the doctor's low voices.

Clint knew he was playing with fire, but for Mattie, he'd risk getting burned.

T
he kitchen door opened and Mattie looked up to see Herman enter as he removed his slouch hat.

“I hear Beaudry's back,” he commented, sliding into his chair.

He'd been back five days now and she hadn't returned to Green Valley since the day of the attempted bank robbery, not even to attend church service on Sunday. Between the guilt of not telling him about his child and her seesawing emotions, she couldn't take the chance of seeing him alone.

“Good for him,” she muttered. She speared a piece of side pork in the frying pan and placed the meat on a platter, realizing she sounded like a petulant child. She stabbed another chunk of welldone meat, taking out her anger on the defenseless pork.

Herman cackled. “That hog's already dead, Mattie. Don't need to kill it twice.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward, praying for patience to get through another day. “Have you seen Andy?”

“He was milkin' Jewel.”

Mattie pivoted and planted one hand on her hip. “That's supposed to be your job. Andy's is to gather the eggs and feed the chickens.”

“The boy already done his, so I jist let him do mine, too. He asked me if he could, and I didn't want to make him feel bad.”

In spite of herself, Mattie's lips tugged upward at the corners. “He's changed a lot in the last two months, hasn't he?”

“S'pose so. Beaudry got him started right.” Herman studied Mattie. “He ain't come callin' since he come back.”

His tone was almost accusatory. She turned back to the stove to hide a new batch of tears. Brushing at her eyes, she damned the weepiness her pregnancy caused. “Why should he? I'm betrothed.” The last word almost stuck in her throat.

“Y'know, you got a say in this, girl. I like the doc and all, but any fool can see you don't love him.”

“I don't think that's any of your concern,” she said curtly. Afraid to see if she'd hurt Herman's feelings, Mattie removed the rest of the meat from the pan, then cracked five eggs into it. She didn't want to think about the upcoming wedding or the fact that Clint would be sitting in the church witnessing her lie in front of God and everyone. Her stomach lurched, and she wasn't sure if it was her condition or nervousness.

“Talk to Beaudry,” Herman continued a few minutes later, his voice gentle. “Let him know how you feel.”

Using a slotted spoon to retrieve the fried eggs, Mattie divided them between the three plates, then carried two to the table. “That's just the problem. How I feel doesn't matter.”

Herman reached up and patted her arm awkwardly. “My joints are tellin' me it's gonna be a fine day for fishin'. Why don't you come with me and Andy? Maybe it'll help you clear your mind some.”

Mattie glanced around the kitchen, ticking off the chores that needed to be done. But what did it matter? Less than two weeks from now, the house would be empty or maybe sold to someone else. She and Andy would move into town to live with Kevin.

Her stomach knotted again. She hated to leave this place. It had been the first thing that had been hers alone. There had been good times under this roof as well as sad times, but it was home for her, Andy, Herman, and Ruth before she died.

Mattie smiled at Herman. “All right. Seems a waste to spend the last nice days of the year inside.”

He gave her arm a fond squeeze. “Atta girl, Mattie.” He winked at her. “I might even be bribed into baitin' your hook.”