The Bounty Hunter's Bride (12 page)

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Uncle Beau.” She meant for everything—the day, the meal, especially for Dani.

His belly rumbled with hunger. If he ate supper with the females, he’d sit at the head of the table. He’d share smiles with Dani and eat like a king. Longing stabbed through him, but he pushed it back. “Tell Dani I’m not eating supper.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Emma lost her smile.

Beau felt like dirt. He’d hurt the child’s feelings, but he didn’t dare apologize, not when he could smell biscuits and pie. Instead he barked an order. “I left the fish waste in the garden. Someone needs to bury it.”

“I’ll do it after supper.”

“The milking—”

“I can do that, too.”

“Good.”

Emma raised her chin. “We don’t need you to run this place. You can leave and never come back!”

Beau heard the defiance, but he didn’t see it in her expression. Tears pooled in her eyes and he knew why. Emma wanted a father. He couldn’t be that man, not until Clay Johnson lay dead in a ditch.

He pulled the door shut, then strode across the yard to the bunk room where he’d stowed his things under the cot. Some of them were practical. Some were sacred. Beau dropped to his knees, reached under the bed and pulled out a box that held Lucy’s ring, their wedding picture and a ladies’ handkerchief, one of two Lucy had embroidered with flowers.

The linen no longer held her scent, but he recognized the pink roses. Beau had carried a similar hankie in his pocket until he’d come across a young mother in a run-down café. She’d had a small child in her lap, a boy with a cough and a nose as red as fire. Knowing Lucy would approve, Beau had given her the hankie. He’d let go of his grief that day, but not the rage. Today, Beau realized, that rage had flickered and almost died. He’d had a good day. For a few hours, he’d forgotten about Clay Johnson.

Furious with himself, he slipped Lucy’s handkerchief into his pocket and pushed to his feet. He strapped on his gun belt, cloaked it with his duster, then saddled his horse and led it into the yard. With dusk turning the sky to pewter, Beau swung into the saddle.

Dani hurried out the front door. Her eyes asked questions he didn’t want to answer, so he dug his heels into the horse’s side. Josh had left the yard at a gallop. Beau left at a dead run. He barely noticed the rise and fall of the road, the change in the sky from blue to orange, then purplish-black. His thoughts tumbled like rocks in a can, clattering against each other until he arrived in town.

Businesses had closed for the day, but upstairs apartments were alive with families having supper. As he rode toward the Silver River, he heard an argument about a boy eating his peas. Did the mother know how precious this moment could be? Anything could happen. The child could catch a fever and die. A wagon accident could take his life. Tonight could be her last memory.

Beau thought of the handkerchief in his pocket. A week before Lucy died, he’d watched her working a crochet hook. The yarn had been baby blue. He’d wondered, but she’d only smiled and said it was too soon to be sure.

Fiddle music pulled Beau’s attention to the saloon. He steered to the wailing notes, hitched his horse to the railing and went inside. Pausing at the door, he surveyed a small crowd of locals, mostly businessmen ending their day with the amber cure. Beau headed for the counter.

Wallace set down the glass he was wiping. “Coffee?”

“And information.” Beau slapped down a greenback.

The barkeep put it in his pocket, sent a waitress to the kitchen for the coffee, then looked at Beau. “What can I do for you?”

“Anyone leave anything for me?”

Wallace shrugged. “Not a thing. That man I saw, he hasn’t come back.”

Beau was glad Johnson hadn’t left a vile threat, but he didn’t want to lose him, either. He turned his attention to the facts at hand. “What’s the word on the Rocking J?”

Wallace summarized what Beau had heard from Josh, then leaned forward. “Rumor has it they did more than steal the horses.”

Beau tensed. “What are you saying?”

“Baylor’s daughter…”

Beau held in a curse. A tender girl had been brutalized. Where was God?

Wallace wiped another glass with his apron. “Her brother stopped the attack before too much happened, but she’s pretty shook up.”

Beau wouldn’t bother the girl, but he wondered about the brother. “Did he see the man’s face?”

“They all had masks.”

The waitress brought Beau’s coffee. He took a swig, weighing the evidence as the liquid scalded his tongue. His instincts told him Johnson was behind the raid, but he needed hard facts, something peculiar to Clay. If no one had seen the horse thieves, he’d have to find another way to tie Johnson to the theft.

“What else have you heard?” he said to Wallace.

The barkeep shrugged. “A geezer found a dead horse about ten miles south of here. It could be why someone raided the Rocking J.”

Beau set down the cup. If the dead horse matched Clay’s buckskin mare, Beau would have the clue he needed. “Tell me more.”

The barkeep aimed his chin at the back of the room. “That’s the fella who saw it. Ask him.”

Beau pushed to his feet and turned. In the dim light, he saw an old man with a ragged white beard and the stooped shoulders of a prospector. He was seated at a round table in the corner, hunched over a bowl of chili. As Beau approached, the man looked up with rheumy eyes. He pointed at an empty chair with his spoon. “Have a seat.”

Beau dropped down but stayed on guard. “I hear you came across a dead horse a while ago.”

“That I did.”

“I’m looking for someone. It could have been his mount. What color was it?”

The old man stopped with the spoon an inch from his mouth. “What’s it worth to you?”

Beau slapped a silver dollar on the table.

The old man snickered. “That’s not enough.”

Beau didn’t like being taken, but he’d have given every cent he had to find Clay Johnson. He opened his billfold, took out a five-dollar bill and laid it next to the silver.

The prospector snorted, then looked at Beau. “What else do you have?”

Beau slapped down a sawbuck.

The old man laughed out loud.

Beau added greenbacks to the pile one at a time, watching the man’s eyes for signs of greed. When he hit twenty-five dollars, he stopped. “You’re a thief.”

“No, I’m not.” The prospector nudged the money back at Beau. “I’ll tell you about that horse for free. I just wanted to see how far you’d go.”

Beau looked into the man’s eyes and saw a sympathy he hadn’t expected. It shook him to the core. “What for?”

“I sold my soul to greed,” said the old man. “I had a wife, a family. I left them to search for gold and found nothing but mud. I had everything. Now I’ve got nothing.”

“Thanks a lot,” Beau drawled. “But I don’t need a sermon.”

“I think you do.”

“I’m not after gold.”

“No,” he said. “But you’re after something. What is it?”

Beau said nothing.

The old man raised a brow. “Only three things make a man crazy enough to throw away his life. Women, money and revenge. You don’t need the money. As for the woman—”

Beau saw a flash of pink. “Mind your own business.”

“That leaves vengeance.”

“Shut up!”

The graybeard hunched forward. Beau saw madness gleaming in his eyes and smelled the heat of the chili. The man’s beard twitched as he spoke. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, young fella. Go home before it’s too late.”

“I don’t have one.” Except his mind flashed to Dani and the girls around the kitchen table.

The old man grinned, revealing a row of rotten teeth. Beau’s stomach turned. He didn’t want to end up alone and bent, an old man stinking of sweat and onions. He felt cursed. Trapped. He wanted to be free from that fate. That day would come when he brought Johnson to justice.

Beau gripped the old man’s collar. “Tell me about the horse.”

“You’re lost, son.”

His fist tightened. “What color was it?”

“A buckskin.”

“What else?”

“It had four black stockings, the high kind.”

The description matched Clay’s horse to the letter. Beau loosened his grip. “Thanks, old man.”

The prospector looked at him with stark pity. “You won’t thank me when you’re as old and rotten as me.”

Beau’s belly burned. So did his eyes from the stink of the onions. He looked down at the money on the table, then up at the prospector. With one finger, as if it were filthy, he nudged it toward the old man. “Keep it. Go see your wife.”

“She went west.”

“So find her.”

The miner shook his head. “She married my best friend. Doesn’t that beat all? I hear they have grandbabies….”

Beau turned his back and left the saloon. He had enough regrets of his own without listening to a bitter old man. He needed air and he needed it now.

D
ani touched Daff’s udder and winced. The hot spot she’d noticed before supper, when she’d done the milking because Beau had taken off, had changed from the size of a penny to a half-dollar. Concerned, she had left Daff in the barn for the night. Now she knew why the cow had been fussy. She had a condition called mastitis and it hurt. Left untreated, it could damage her udder for life.

“You poor thing,” Dani crooned.

The cow sidestepped.

Although Daff had fidgeted during the milking, Dani hadn’t been alarmed. Cows were sensitive creatures, and Beau’s departure had left tension in the air. She didn’t mind doing the evening chores. What she minded was worrying about Beau. She knew Pastor Josh had spoken to him behind the barn. She didn’t know what the Reverend had said, but she doubted an invitation to a church picnic had sent Beau racing to town. When she’d glimpsed his face, she’d seen the man who’d called himself Cain.

Dani stood and scratched Daff’s head. She whispered a prayer for Beau, then stepped out of the stall and surveyed the barn for a cabinet holding liniment and herbs. She hoped Patrick kept camphorated oil. Her father had used it in Wisconsin. She scanned the shelves by the door but saw only cans of nails and what-not. Looking deeper into the barn, she spotted a door. It led to the back room, a likely place for the oil and where Beau spent the night. Dani had no desire to invade his privacy, but she had to help Daff. She lifted the lantern from the wall, walked to door and opened it.

Cool air touched her face, bringing with it the scents of gunpowder and shaving soap. Raising the lantern, she saw shirts hanging from hooks, trousers draped over a chair and a pair of work boots. A set of saddlebags lay jumbled on the floor, open and unbuckled, as if Beau had rummaged for something. What she didn’t see was his gun belt.

Her gaze strayed to a cot neatly made with a pillow and wool blanket. The tidiness surprised her. So did the wooden box lying open on the bed. Looking closer, she saw beveled corners and etched roses. It was the kind of thing a woman would own.

Dani had no business looking at the contents. She had a similar box of her own. It had belonged to her grandmother, then her mother. When she’d turned sixteen, her father had given it to her with his blessing and told her to fill it with wisdom before she passed it on to a daughter of her own. Dani’s box held memories of her mother, Patrick’s letters and keepsakes from home. She knew the meaning of such things. The contents of the box on Beau’s cot would reveal his deepest feelings.

With trembling fingers, she lifted a photograph and saw a man and woman dressed for a wedding. Lucy Morgan had the serious expression befitting a formal occasion, but her eyes glowed with happiness. Beau looked ten years younger, not the five that had passed since his wife’s death. In the photograph, Dani saw the man who peeled apples and sang to cows. Her pulse raced. She cared about Beau…deeply. How could she not? He’d given her the girls. He respected her abilities. He’d understood why she’d jilted Virgil Griggs. He understood
her.

With trembling hands, she set the picture on the bed, then looked at the rest of Beau’s treasures. She saw a woman’s gold ring, a silver badge and a gray rock. A pink ribbon curled around a watch fob engraved with a date, presumably the day of his wedding to Lucy.

“And the two shall become one flesh…”

Beau had known that joy. Dani never would. Tears pushed into her eyes. She had no doubts about adopting the girls, but deep down she wanted more…She wanted a photograph like the one in Beau’s box. She wanted a husband.

With her eyes on the photograph, Dani barely heard the slide of metal against leather. She whirled to the door and saw Beau. He holstered the Colt, then pinned her in place with his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“It’s Daff.”

“What about her?”

His gaze bordered on murderous. Dani didn’t blame him for being angry. She’d overstepped, but she’d had a good reason. “She has a hot spot on her udder. I was looking for camphorated oil.”

Beau stepped inside the room, opened a cabinet and handed her a brown bottle. “Here.”

She wanted to flee, but he was blocking the door. In his duster and hat, he seemed huge. His shoulders spanned the doorway, and the shadow he cast into the barn made him even taller. Heat spilled from the canvas coat. The man she’d seen in the photograph was dead and buried. This one was very much alive. His gaze darted to the picture on the cot, lingered, then slid to Dani. “That’s Lucy and me.”

“I know.”

“She was a good woman.”

She swallowed a lump. “I didn’t mean to look at your things. The box was open and I saw—”

“I know what you saw.” His eyes burned even brighter.

“Now you know why I have to kill Johnson.”

“I do,” she murmured. “But it’s not right.”

“Who are you to judge?”

“No one. I just know what I see. You’re dead inside.”

“Far from it.” Hate burned in his eyes.

Beau tossed his duster on the chair. Next he unhooked the gun belt and draped it over the back. Without the coat and the gun, he looked like himself…almost.

“Go on,” he said. “Get out of here.”

Dani stepped to the door. “I’ll be with Daff.”

Beau blocked her way. “I’ll take care of her. Give me the oil.”

“No.”

His eyes blazed. “I don’t want you here. Go inside.”

“I can’t.” She gave him her sternest look. “You’re upset. If you go near Daff, she’ll feel it. She needs kindness tonight.”

“She’s a cow!”

“She has feelings!”

So did Beau. He looked mad enough to pound the wall, but behind the rage Dani saw the ragged edges of his heart. Josh’s visit had upset him. His trip to town had made him even angrier. She wanted to know what had happened, but she’d invaded his privacy enough for one day.

“Please,” she murmured. “Let me by.”

She could see Beau fighting with himself. He didn’t want her in the barn, but he knew she was right.

Finally, he stepped back. “Suit yourself.”

Dani left with the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. Every instinct told her to turn around with the light, but Daff needed her as much as Beau. She could see the cow fidgeting. As she drew close, Daff let out a bellow that shook the rafters.

“It’s okay, girl. I’m here.”

Dani pulled up a stool, poured oil into her cupped palm, then rubbed her hands together to warm it. Leaning forward, she rubbed the smelly mixture onto Daff’s udder. Over and over, she massaged the cow as she’d done on her father’s farm. Losing a few pounds of milk would cost money. Losing Daff altogether would be a disaster. The cow, just three years old, had a lot of good years ahead of her.

Prayer filled Dani’s mind. She asked God to heal Daff, then thanked Him for giving her the farm and three daughters to raise. She’d never understand the lightning bolt that took Patrick, but she could see God’s healing in the aftermath. She prayed for Beau, too. The words came in a rush.
Set him free, Lord. Heal his heart.
Tears pushed into her eyes. She felt his suffering as if it were her own and welcomed it. If her tears would save him a moment’s grief, she’d gladly cry for him. This feeling, she realized, was a gift from God, a shadow of how deeply the Lord loved His children.

Love…
Dani’s hand went still on Daff’s udder. With her heart pounding, she thought about apples and raspberry pie, “Camptown Races” and Beau’s broad shoulders spanning the doorway. She thought of his hands, too. Strong. Sure. Gentle. Her heart jumped and her eyes opened wide. Had she fallen in love with him? She couldn’t have. She loved Patrick…didn’t she?

With her stomach churning, she kept on tending Daff. She felt as fickle as Virgil Griggs thought she was, but she couldn’t stop the rush of feeling for Beau. He was everything she wanted in a husband, a man who commanded respect but knew when to bend. Beau could make her smile and feel proud. He also had a stubborn streak, cranky moods and a heart full of hate. Somehow those flaws made her love him even more. Dani turned the thought over in her mind. She loved lots of people…the girls, her family and friends in Wisconsin. Her feelings for Beau
had
to be in that vein.

So why was her heart pounding with hope? She wanted to offer him comfort but worried that he’d send her away. Her own feelings shouldn’t have mattered, but they did. She’d never felt a pull so strong, a need to give of herself that went beyond friendship, beyond family. The desire to comfort Beau sprang from her very soul.

The door to his room creaked opened, filling the far side of the barn with a dull light. A moment later, his shadow stretched across the floor.

“Dani?”

She didn’t dare look up. “The oil stinks, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t talking about Daff. He meant for his rudeness. Dani forgave him instantly, but she couldn’t bear to look into his eyes. She’d see his suffering and want to hold him in her arms. She thought of reaching for his hand, but the gesture seemed like a confession.

“It’s all right,” she finally said. “You were upset.”

“That’s no excuse for my behavior.” He let out a breath.

“You saw Lucy’s picture and the badge. The watch—”

“I figured it was a wedding gift.”

“It still keeps time.”

He seemed eager to talk, so Dani looked up. “What about the rock?”

“I picked it up the day I asked Lucy to marry me.”

“That’s very sweet.” Dani’s heart pinched. “You must have loved her very much.”

“I did. I always will, but I know she’s gone. God and I aren’t close right now, but Lucy’s watching from Heaven.”

“There’s comfort in that thought.”

Saying nothing, Beau dropped to a crouch, putting them almost cheek to cheek. He laid his hand on Daff’s udder.

“Where’s the hot spot?”

“Here.” She pointed to it.

Beau slid his hand to the place she indicated, then looked into her eyes. “I’d have never found it.”

They were so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled like coffee and leather, nothing like apples. She didn’t want to notice his manly ways, but she couldn’t help it. She focused on Daff. “She’s calmer now.”

“You have a way with animals,” he said. “Including mules like me.”

Dani stared at the glistening oil. “You’re not a mule.”

“I was tonight. I ran out of here without an explanation. Then I got mean-tempered when you went looking for the oil.”

Her heart ached. Only a good man would humble himself. “You caught me being nosy. Anyone would have been angry.”

“And anyone would have looked in the box.” Beau pushed to his feet. “There’s no harm done. In fact, seeing the picture might help you understand where I went tonight.”

Dani kept rubbing Daff. “I was worried.”

“With good reason.” He told her about Josh’s visit, the trouble at the Rocking J and his suspicion that Clay Johnson was in the area. “That’s why I went to town. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s Wallace at the Silver River Saloon.”

“What did you find out?”

“A prospector found a dead horse. I’m convinced it belonged to Johnson.”

Dani tensed. “So he’s in the area.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Do you think he’ll come after you?”

“I don’t know.” He pushed a piece of straw with his boot. “Most of the time he runs, but sometimes he leaves messages.”

“Like what?”

“Notes telling me I’m going to die. Once he left a pink ribbon.”

“That’s horrid.”

Dani stopped rubbing Daff. The cow stomped her foot, then settled down. Dani looked up and saw Beau scratching the cow’s ears. How could a man talk about his wife’s murder and soothe a cow at the same time? Sensing her gaze, he looked down. His eyes blazed with the glow she’d seen when he’d looked at the photograph. Only instead of seeing Lucy, he saw her.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I worry about you, Beau.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Johnson can’t hurt me any more than he already has.”

Not even death scared this man. She ached for him, but she also recalled the gun belt that lived on his hips. Dani quivered with fear. “Maybe he’ll take the horses and run.”

“That’s my guess. Just the same, I want you and the girls to be careful.”

“Of course.”

She’d answered quickly. Too quickly to hide the shake in her voice. In Wisconsin, her biggest worry had been bad weather. Here the weather was deadly and so were strangers.

Beau pulled up a stool. “Let me take a turn.”

Dani barely heard him. She blinked and imagined Clay Johnson lurking in the yard. “I won’t sleep knowing that man’s around.”

“Think of me instead.”

His voice had gone low. He’d meant to sound reassuring, but Dani heard a lilt. It matched the beat of her heart and she wondered if she’d ever sleep again. When Beau laid his palm against the small of her back, her breath quickened.