Read The Bounty Hunter's Bride Online
Authors: Victoria Bylin
The Bounty Hunter's Bride (13 page)
“I’ll keep you safe,” he said. “I promise.”
He’d felt her fear but had misunderstood it. Clay Johnson made her nervous, but it was Beau’s touch that scared her. His knee rested an inch from hers. She could feel strength in his forearm and gentleness in his fingers. She wanted to stay in this spot forever. Air rushed from her lungs. She covered the sudden quivering with a yawn.
“You’re tired.” Beau slid his hand from her back, clasped her fingers and took her hand off Daff’s udder.
Dani turned her wrist and matched their palms. The oil made their fingers slide together. She looked into Beau’s eyes where she saw a fierce light.
“I mean it, Dani. I won’t let Johnson get near you.”
She wanted to believe him, but Beau wasn’t God. He was a man, one who had loved and suffered a loss. She’d loved and lost, too. Both afraid and unwilling to let go of the moment, she squeezed his fingers. “Did you eat supper?”
His eyes darkened. “I lost my appetite in town.”
“I could make you a sandwich.”
“No, thanks.” He let go of her hand. “Go on inside.”
Before she could tempt him with pie, Beau went to work on Daff. Feeling dismissed, Dani stood and left the barn.
As she walked through the yard, the night air cooled her face but not her blood. She wiped her oily fingers on her apron, but she still felt the imprint of Beau’s hand on her back. She felt all sorts of things…all of them confusing. As soon as the adoption was complete, Beau would leave. Losing her heart to a bitter man, one who’d turned his back on God, was pure foolishness.
Dani hurried up the steps. As she opened the door, the mantel clock chimed twice. As tired as she felt, she knew she wouldn’t sleep. She needed to chase Beau’s face out of her thoughts, so she went upstairs to check on the girls. With her heart pounding, she looked first at Emma, sleeping alone in the smallest bedroom. The child’s hair lay like scattered straw on her pillow. Dani saw a precious gift and thanked God with a silent prayer.
Brimming with love, she stepped across the hall where Ellie and Emma shared a double bed. The sight of the little girls, curled in opposite directions to make a heart, made her breath catch. If Patrick had lived, they’d be sharing this moment. He’d have held her hand and led her downstairs. They’d have talked about Ed, Ethan and Ebenezer and dreamed of the future.
Desperate to feel close to Patrick—and safe from Beau and his bitterness—Dani went downstairs to her bedroom. She lit the oil lamp, opened her trunk and lifted the stack of letters from Patrick. With her heart aching, she put on her nightgown and brushed out her braid, climbed into bed, and unfolded the first letter she’d received from a dairyman in Colorado.
His descriptions of the girls came alive. When he said he had ten cows, Dani pictured each one. She knew their names, their quirks and how many pounds of milk each one gave. She also knew about the singing, though Patrick didn’t mention it. How many other things didn’t she know about him? Did he have a deep voice or a high one? Could he sing as well as Beau? Scolding herself for silly comparisons, she skimmed the letters until she reached the one where Patrick had proposed.
I need a wife and you need a change. I believe we’d be a good match. Would you marry me, Daniela?
She’d taken the use of her formal name as a sign of his respect. Tonight it sounded foreign. He’d added a few compliments about her good mind and warm heart. At the time, she’d blushed with his praise. Now it seemed impersonal. He could have been writing to a business partner, someone he was hiring to do chores and care for his children. He’d signed the letter, “With great hope.”
Dani stared at the bottom of the page. Not once had Patrick written that he loved her. She’d figured he was saving that special moment for when they met in person, but now, looking at his letters one after another, she wondered if he would have said the words at all. She had to know. Blinking, she thought of Beau’s box of memories. They told a love story. Dani needed that story from Patrick. What treasures had he set aside? She knew where to look.
When she’d moved into the bedroom, she’d spotted a cherrywood case on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Dani hadn’t opened it, but tonight she needed to see what it held. She climbed out of bed, lifted it off the shelf and set it in the middle of the bed. As she raised the lid, the hinges creaked. Light spilled from the lamp, revealing a package of letters tied with a black ribbon.
Her letters…With her heart fluttering, she touched the paper and realized she’d made a mistake. She’d bought special stationery to write to Patrick, the finest she could find. She’d used a fountain pen because it fit sweetly in her hand. These letters were written on newsprint. Feeling ill, she untied the black ribbon, opened the top letter and saw Patrick’s bold hand.
“Dear Beth…”
Her stomach lurched, but she calmed herself. Patrick had written to his wife. Any woman would have treasured such letters and kept them in a special place. With her heart pounding, Dani read on.
You’ve been gone a week, my love. Alone in our bedroom with the lamp trimmed low, I don’t think I can survive. You were the best part of me, Beth. The part that could love, the part that knew happiness of the finest kind. Without you I’m a lost man. My soul is drifting on the wind, a spirit parted from the body but nowhere close to Heaven. This is purgatory. I’m among the living dead.
S
truggling to make sense of the letter, Dani looked at the date and saw the month and year of Beth’s death. Patrick, she realized, had written them at the pinnacle of his grief. He’d loved Beth deeply. Dani admired him for that commitment. The letters held the private feelings she’d expected him to share with her once they were married. Bolstered by that thought, she continued to read.
She finished the first letter, read three more and realized Patrick had written to Beth every Saturday night, each time pouring out his grief and wondering if he wanted to live. By the fourth letter, Dani felt ill.
“Stop reading,” she said out loud.
But she couldn’t. She needed to know what he’d written about
her.
She skimmed through the stack until she found the first mention of her name.
Do you remember my cousin Kirstin? She wrote to me about a friend of hers, a girl named Daniela who can’t find a husband.
Dani bristled. She’d
found
a husband. She’d found two of them, but neither man had made her feel alive. She didn’t like Patrick’s comment, but she couldn’t blame him for Kirstin’s introduction.
Miss Baxter has invited me to write to her. I hate to do it, Beth. But our girls need a mother. I’m going to write back. If this woman is at all acceptable, I’ll think about writing to her again.
Dani’s heart plummeted. She wanted to be more than “acceptable.” She wanted to be loved. She wanted to be understood. Until now, she’d thought Patrick had been courting her, not judging her usefulness. Had his feeling changed from resignation to hope? Dani had to know, so she read the next letter with her name in it.
She’s educated and seems kind, though you can’t know a person from letters alone. She sent a picture. I suppose she’s pretty. Blond, not brunette like you. She’s thin, too. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t found a husband.
Dani gasped with outrage. She’d made a trip to Madison with Kirstin to have that tintype made. She’d spent hours picking her dress and fixing her hair. She’d even let the photographer apply rouge, something that felt foreign and naughty. Now, reading Patrick’s comments, she felt like a cow on an auction block.
The letters went on and on. He questioned himself with every stroke of the pen, criticizing Dani to Beth for faults both real and imagined. By the time she opened the last letter, she felt nauseous. She looked at the date, saw it was written the day before Patrick died and knew this letter mattered the most of all.
Dear Beth,
I give up. I can’t live another minute with this lie of an engagement. It’s too late to tell Daniela to stay home. I figure she’s on the train outside of Chicago. Her arrival will be my punishment. After months of letters, she deserves to hear my regrets in person. I don’t love her, Beth. I can’t marry her.
My dearest wife, every night, I dream of you, of us. When I milk the cows, I remember naming the calves. I remember Martin Dryer bringing the bull and how you talked about the wonder of it all. Do you remember that night? I do. We…
Dani read something so intimate she blushed.
A man can’t marry one woman when he loves another. Will I ever find peace without you? If it weren’t for our daughters, I’d ride west to escape the memories. I’d ford rivers with the hope of drowning. I’d scale mountains and hope to fall. But I can’t do that. Our daughters need a home. I’ll give it to them, but it will be a home without a mother. That’s the best I can do.
Forgive me, Beth. I know you’d want me to marry again, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to that poor, lonely girl who expects to be my wife. As soon as I break the engagement, I’ll send her back to her family.
Dani stared at the page. Patrick hadn’t loved her. Even worse, he’d lied to Dani and himself. Anger shot through her veins, cauterizing the cuts of grief. Being called a “poor, lonely girl” was the last straw. Still shaking, she forced herself to finish reading the letter.
I’m sure of my decision, Beth. My only worry is for the girls. If something happens to me, they’ll need a guardian. Right now, Beau’s named in my will. I haven’t seen him since Lucy died. We both know he went crazy, but he’s a blood relative. That counts for something. Not that it matters…I expect the Lord to torture me with a long life, watching as I miss you more with every passing day.
Your husband for eternity,
Dani stared at Patrick’s signature in horror. His final words voided the letter in her trunk. She had no right to adopt his daughters. He’d wanted her to leave.
Numb with shock, she stared out the window. Where was God now? He’d taken Patrick from her, first through his death and then through his lies. He’d taken her pride, her hope and even the right to call Patrick’s daughters her own.
Dani searched for a way to keep the girls and found a solution that made her cheeks redden with shame. If she burned the letters in the stove, no one would ever know about Patrick’s change of heart. Beau had already agreed to the adoption. What difference did the letters make now? She looked at the sheets of newsprint scattered on the bed. One by one, she put them in a pile. She had to light the stove for breakfast. One stick of wood and the letters would be gone.
She
had
to keep the girls. They needed her as much as she needed them. Burning the letters was wrong, but showing them to Beau meant risking everything. He’d changed his mind about the adoption because of her abilities, but he also lived by a code of honor. Patrick’s final request would matter to him. With her stomach churning, she put on her day dress and shoes. She glanced in the mirror but didn’t braid her hair. Instead she tied it back with a ribbon, then stared hard at her own face.
Not once had she willfully done something as dishonest as destroying the letters. Beau deserved to know the truth, but showing him Patrick’s final words meant casting herself fully on God’s and Beau’s good graces. She thought of his hand on her back and how strong he’d felt. She’d sensed kindness in his touch, but she’d also seen his face when he’d found her in his room. Beau didn’t compromise. He saw black-and-white. Dani saw shades of gray.
“Now we see through a glass darkly.”
The scripture came from her memory. She felt trapped in a mist, confused by circumstances and unsure of God’s mercy. She couldn’t bear to think about losing the girls. What if Beau shipped them off to Harriet Lange? Closing her eyes, she imagined a hawkish old woman ordering Emma to bring her tea. She saw Esther crying and Ellie unhappy in starched ruffles. Dani could spare them that misery, but it meant compromising her integrity. If she burned the letters, she’d be turning her back on God, Beau and everything she believed.
Are you there, Lord?
Silence.
Confused and trembling, she carried the letters into the kitchen. The mantel clock chimed four times. Soon Beau would come to the house for breakfast. She opened the stove’s firebox and peered inside. With the rush of air, the embers flared. If she added the letters, they’d be gone in seconds. Orange light burned through the gray ash. In that flare of heat and light, Dani saw her own soul.
She’d been looking at the ash of her circumstances. The charred ruins of her engagement and Patrick’s deception. But below the surface—through that glass darkly—a simple truth burned as bright as the embers. God hadn’t left her to cope alone. She knew right from wrong, the difference between truth and a lie. Someday she’d see the Lord face-to-face and she’d know why she’d come to this place. Until then, she had her faith to see her through.
With the letters safe on the table, Dani lifted newspaper from the kindling box, crumpled it into a ball and added it to the coals. As it caught fire, she closed the stove door. When Beau came for breakfast, she’d show him the letters. Weak in the knees, she sat at the table where the sheets lay in a pile, a monument to lies and lost dreams. Bowing her head, she wept so hard her shoulders quaked. She tasted the salt of her own tears and felt them stinging her cheeks.
“I’m scared, Lord Jesus,” she said out loud. “Without the girls, I have nothing.”
Nothing but me.
The voice was in her head, but the hand on her shoulder belonged to a flesh-and-blood man.
“Dani?”
She looked up and saw Beau. With her thoughts in a jumble, she blurted the truth. “He didn’t love me.”
“Who didn’t?”
“Patrick.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed. “What brought this on?”
She nudged the letters with her fingertip. “I found those.” She sniffed, then wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
Keeping one hand on her shoulder, Beau reached into his pocket and pulled out a ladies handkerchief. “Use this.”
Dani opened the square and saw roses. The hankie, she realized, had belonged to Lucy. With more tears welling, she looked into Beau’s eyes and saw a glow akin to the embers in the stove. Beneath the ash, he was very much alive. Judging by his expression, he wasn’t happy.
He dropped into the chair next to hers. “What’s in the letters?”
“The last one says it all.”
He picked up the letter, read every word, then looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Her heart pounded with dread. “I found them a few hours ago. I was upset, so I looked through Patrick’s things. I wanted to feel…”
She hung her head to hide her eyes. Had she wanted to feel close to Patrick or separate from Beau? Right now, she felt the opposite. She’d never cry for Patrick again, but she felt closer to Beau than she’d ever felt to another human being. Lucy’s handkerchief was more personal than a touch. Gripping the linen, she waited for him to decide her future.
With their gazes locked, he crumpled Patrick’s letter into a ball. “If you don’t burn this trash, I will.”
Dani’s mouth gaped. “Really?”
“My brother was a fool.” Beau’s voice shook with anger. “I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead, but he was a two-faced mama’s boy who whined about everything. You’re better off without him.”
She clutched the hankie. “I can keep the girls?”
“Of course.”
He picked up the letters, walked to the stove and shoved them in the firebox. The newsprint caught with a whoosh. He latched the door and faced Dani. “If Patrick were alive, I’d haul him behind the woodshed. Of all the foolish drivel…”
She couldn’t find her tongue.
Beau gave her a firm look. “Don’t you dare doubt yourself.”
“But I do.” She hung her head.
“You shouldn’t.” He crossed back to the table. “You’re a beautiful woman, Dani. If it weren’t for Clay Johnson, I’d—” He sealed his lips.
She looked up. “You’re being kind.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I know pity when I hear it.” She faked a smile. “Thank you for trying, Beau. But I need to face the facts.”
He looked baffled. “What facts?”
“I’ve been engaged three times now. I’m just not fit for marriage.”
“That’s flat-out stupid.” His tone, warm like milk, softened the words but not the look in his eyes. “You’re so full of goodness it shames me.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but I have to be realistic.” She shrugged. “There’s something wrong with me. I’ve never felt what I thought I’d feel.”
His gaze lingered on her face, studying her, reading her thoughts in the flush of her cheeks until his eyes glinted with understanding. “You mean the ‘wanting’ part.”
Her cheeks flamed even brighter. “I don’t know.”
Beau stopped breathing. So did she. Ever so gently, he tipped up her chin with his fingers, then oh-so-tenderly, he kissed her on the lips.
Her knees went weak. Her first kiss…and Beau didn’t even know it. He raised his head and looked at her with that glow in his eyes. Dani felt both naive and amazed. A kiss…the start of what God allowed between a man and wife. “And the two shall become one flesh.” One life, one hope. A couple joined in body, mind and soul. Dani wanted that joy, and she wanted it with Beau. With her eyes wide, she watched his expression change from kindly to confident.
The man looked downright pleased with himself. “You’re an amazing woman, Dani. Don’t ever doubt it.”
With a look that bordered on proud, he went out the back door, leaving her confused but sure of one thing. Not all men were as fickle as Patrick. And not all men smelled like bad onions. Dani may have been engaged to three men, but this was first time she’d truly been in love.
Beau wasn’t the least bit sorry he’d kissed Dani. Patrick had shattered her confidence. With that brush of their lips, Beau had given it back to her. He’d go back later for breakfast and pretend nothing had happened. It had been a kiss, one so chaste it bordered on brotherly…except for the way it made him feel. Alive. Strong. Privy to secrets she didn’t understand.
As he crossed the yard to the barn, he fought the urge to whoop like a fool. He’d given Dani something to think about, that was for sure. He hadn’t felt this good in years, maybe never. Lucy would have been glad he’d given Dani the handkerchief. Beau had put it in his pocket as a reminder, but he was in no danger of forgetting Clay Johnson.
Last night, when he’d seen the light in his room, he’d imagined Johnson harming Dani. He’d half expected to find her tied up with the outlaw’s pistol pressed to her temple. When he’d drawn his gun, he’d been ready for anything but what he’d found. Dani looking at the treasures he’d neglected to put away…. He’d seen tenderness in her eyes and a caring that linked the past and present. If he stayed in Castle Rock, he could take her for buggy rides and moonlight walks. If their hearts met—and he was certain they would—they’d be free to marry.
