The Bounty Hunter's Bride (16 page)

Any child would have been frightened, but for these girls, Emma in particular, the storm evoked memories of Patrick’s horse racing into the yard. Lightning flashed again, filling the room with a blue light. As the girls grabbed for each other, thunder shook the house. Dani whispered a prayer for Beau.

She’d learned from Josh that he’d left with Sheriff Dawes and two deputies. No one had seen Andy leave town, but Sparrow Canyon, a maze of gorges running north and south at the base of the Rockies, offered good grass and places to hide. Knowing Johnson, Beau had felt confident he’d be in those canyons and had led the men in that direction.

Dani prayed he was right. Her cheek still tingled from the brush of his lips. He’d bought the picnic basket to protect her from Andy, but the kiss had been a confession. He cared about her. The hankie, folded in her pocket, told her just how deep his feelings ran.

Adie came out of the kitchen with a lantern. “That’s quite a storm.”

Emma trembled. “I wish God would stop the thunder.”

“Me, too,” Ellie said. “Uncle Beau’s out there.”

No one said a word.

Dani’s mind raced through possibilities. Patrick had died on a night like this one. Lightning could strike. A flash flood could rip away the sides of a canyon and carry a man and his horse to their doom. In His wrath, God had flooded the earth and cleansed it of iniquity. In His mercy He’d promised to never do it again. He’d given Noah a rainbow and a dove. Dani prayed Beau would find that peace.

Pastor Josh bowed his head. “Let’s pray.”

Stephen copied his father. Dani and the girls held hands. Adie sat next to her husband and reached for his hand.

“Lord Jesus, we come to You in faith.” Josh spoke in a normal tone, but Dani felt it like thunder. His words soared on the wings of Noah’s dove, rising higher and growing stronger.

“Beau Morgan, our friend and uncle, needs Your grace. His heart is weary, Lord. We ask You to sustain him in this troubled time. We pray he’ll be guided by Your wisdom and protected by angels. We pray for the healing of his heart, Lord. Beau lost a wife and he wants revenge. You lost a son and offered mercy to the whole human race. We praise You for that gift. We thank You for the promise of Heaven, a place where there’s no pain and no wrongdoing, where justice is complete and love abounds. May Beau have that assurance. Amen.”

Six voices echoed Pastor Josh, making a choir of sorts. The thunder hadn’t lessened nor had the lightning dimmed, but Dani felt calmer.

Esther, who hadn’t sucked her thumb in spite of the storm, looked up at her. “My pa’s in Heaven, isn’t he?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll see him again.”

“You sure will,” Josh said.

Adie joined in. “And your mother, too.”

Someday Dani would see her own parents again. Beau, she believed, would greet Lucy. And Patrick…he’d gone home to be with Beth, the woman he’d loved to the point of misery on earth. Christ had torn the veil between time and eternity. She knew Beau had that faith. She prayed he’d find the peace to go with it, and that he’d find it soon.

Thunder rolled again, more distant now.

Josh cleared his throat. “Let’s finish Noah’s Ark.”

Stephen chimed in. “I like the animals. Did Noah bring horses?”

“Sure,” Josh answered. “He brought two of everything—bears, horses, all the pretty birds we see.”

By the time the Reverend finished the tale, the animals had names and personalities and the storm had passed. The girls, even Emma, were giggling about the messy ark. When the dove came back with the olive branch, Adie sent Stephen upstairs to bed, then offered to tuck the girls into bed in the guest room. Josh went with his son, leaving Dani alone.

She lifted her shawl off the hook by the door and went out to the porch. The rain had washed the air clean and left a million stars. Hugging herself, she looked up and wondered if Beau saw the same beauty.

The door creaked behind her. Adie came to stand at her side. “You love him, don’t you?”

She meant Beau. Dani knew her feelings, but she feared Adie’s opinion. She didn’t want to appear fickle. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Things just don’t make sense.”

Adie’s voice dipped. “I know you loved Patrick, but that doesn’t mean you can’t love again.”

Dani almost laughed. “It’s not Patrick.”

“Then what?”

Clutching her shawl, she told Adie about Patrick’s letters to Beth and his intention to send her home. In the middle of the story, she sat in the chair she’d used her first day in Castle Rock. That day she’d been afraid of Beau. Now she feared for him. If he didn’t come back—she couldn’t stand the thought.

Adie sat next to her. “Does Beau know about the letters?”

“Yes.” Dani started to rock. “He burned them. I was crying. He gave me a handkerchief, then he…”
Kissed me.
She couldn’t say the words. “He was so kind, so strong. I felt…I don’t know what I felt.”

“Safe?”

Dani nodded.

“Cared for?”

“And more.” For that moment, they’d had one heart.

Adie hummed softly. “I know about the ‘more.’”

“I like it.”

“Me, too.” Adie smiled. “Does Beau know how you feel?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“So you’re waiting for him to speak first.”

“Mostly I’m afraid.”

The moon had turned the yard into streaks of silver and black velvet. Dani saw beauty yet knew a deeper truth. If she stepped off the porch, she’d be up to her ankles in mud. Her feelings for Beau glistened like the water, but she didn’t know what lay below the surface. If she told him how she felt, would they walk on the water or sink in the mud? She pulled the shawl closer. “I care for Beau, but he won’t rest until he catches Clay Johnson.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

Adie rocked gently. “Maybe they’ll catch him tonight.”

“I hope so.” But would it be enough? Dani flashed on the pistols she’d seen in Beau’s room. “He’s hated Johnson for so long, I wonder if he can stop.”

“A man can change.”

“If he wants to.”

“God has a way of making that happen.”

Dani stared at the puddles. They were growing smaller by the minute. “Maybe, but right now Beau’s out in the storm.”

“It’s what men do. They fight for the people they love.”

“You mean Lucy.”

“No, I mean you.” Adie’s voice turned light. “I saw Beau’s face when he bid on your basket. He’d have paid double for it.”

Dani smiled. “He likes fried chicken.”

“He likes
you
even more.” Adie sat straighter in her chair. “There’s just one thing for you decide.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you love him enough to fight for him?”

Her chest ached. “I do. But how?”

“Put arms on the love of God. Show him what he’s missing. For some reason, the Lord dropped Beau into the middle of a good life. He brought you to the same place at the same time. I have to believe there’s a reason.”

“I can see it.”

“It’s a matter of courage,” Adie said. “Can you trust God to finish what He started?”

Dani looked across the yard where the last puddle reflected the moon and stars. Someday she’d come face-to-face with her Lord and the past weeks would make sense. Until then, she had a choice. Believe God for the best or protect herself from the worst. Dani’s heart swelled with longing. She wanted everything God had for her future. She wanted Beau and would fight for him with her best weapons.

A good meal.

Children at the table.

Listening when he talked. Staying silent when he didn’t.

Warm to her toes, she smiled at Adie. “Of course, I’ll fight. I love him.”

“He’s a blessed man.”

Dani looked at the distant hills. She needed Adie’s wisdom. “What should I do?”

The pastor’s wife got a look in her eyes that made Dani think of Adam, Eve and the apple. “There’s a dance next Saturday. It’s to honor the church’s third anniversary.”

“I like to dance.”

“So does Beau.”

Dani’s mind drifted to the dresses hanging in her wardrobe. She’d brought something special for her wedding, an ivory gown that had belonged to her mother. She wanted to wear it for Beau, but not yet. The rest of her gowns held memories of Wisconsin. “I wish I had a new dress.”

Adie grinned. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

Dani felt embarrassed. “I don’t have much money.”

“I’ll raid the cookie jar.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’!” Adie said. “I know just the dress. It’s blue like your eyes. It’ll be worth every cent to see Beau’s face at the dance.”

Dani imagined fiddles and guitars and whirling in Beau’s arms. Worrying about a man was a trial, but courting promised a world of wonder. Shivering, she looked at the stars and prayed Beau would feel the same way.

T
wo days had passed since Beau had left Dani at the picnic. Every minute had been a torture. He missed her. He missed the girls and even the blasted cows. To add to his irritation, Dawes and his two deputies had as much grit as goose feathers. Beau bristled at their whining, but they had reason to be disgruntled.

A storm had destroyed whatever tracks Andy had left. A packhorse had gone lame, forcing them to visit a local ranch. Dawes had accepted the offer to spend the night, so they’d lost time. To add to Beau’s misery, the youngest of the two deputies, a kid named Teddy, whined like a buzz saw. He’d gotten stung by a hornet and was still fussing. The other deputy called himself Ace and claimed to be “a real wild card.” Dressed in a bowler and purple vest, Ace talked about poker and not much else.

Beau didn’t give a hoot about cards and bee stings. He wanted to end his fight with Clay Johnson and he wanted to do it now. He blinked and saw Dani in her pink dress. She’d looked so pretty, so fresh and young and full of hope. His mind flashed to Ellie being a tomboy in the barn. Esther had stopped sucking her thumb and he didn’t want her to start up again. Emma, for all her anger, maybe because of it, was the closest thing he had to a daughter.

Daughters.

Sons.

A wife…Beau had paid twenty dollars for Dani’s basket. He’d have paid a hundred for it, but he couldn’t give her what she most wanted…the next fifty years, every day of his life. He had to end his business with Johnson before he could think of Dani as more than a friend. If he’d been a praying man, Beau would have begged the Almighty to bring Johnson to justice, both on earth and for eternity, but the words stuck in his throat. Two fruitless days on the trail had rubbed him raw. Looking up at the sky, he blamed God for the rain, the injured horse, bees, poker and everything else that had gone wrong.

Even Dawes had been a thorn. The lawman had gotten confused and led them five miles into a box canyon, forcing Beau to hold in a snort. No outlaw would shelter in a canyon with one opening. Never mind the good grazing and fresh water. The spot didn’t suit Johnson and Beau knew it.

But Sparrow Canyon did…Talking over jerky and beans last night, Beau had surmised from Dawes that Sparrow Canyon had three openings. The ravine lay within a day’s ride of Castle Rock. A gorge ran west and led into the Rockies, and an easy trail stretched to the south. Sparrow Creek, the stream where Beau had caught fish with Dani and the girls, marked the way.

They were miles past that peaceful point, but Beau kept the memories of that day tucked in his heart. He hadn’t stopped hating Johnson, but somewhere in the past few weeks, he’d started caring about Dani and his nieces. Josh had once told Beau that darkness and light couldn’t fill a room at the same time. The light, he’d said, would always win. Beau hoped that was true.

“How much farther?” Teddy’s whine cut into Beau’s thoughts.

Dawes answered over his shoulder. “Just around the next bend.”

They couldn’t arrive soon enough for Beau. Aware of the pistol on his hip and the long gun in the scabbard, he urged his horse forward and followed Dawes out of a ravine. What he saw made the hairs on his neck prickle. The canyon had lush grass, a stream and good cover. Beau inspected the rocky slopes and spotted a cave. From a distance, it looked black, narrow and deep.

“That’s the spot,” he said to Dawes. “That’s where Johnson would hole up.”

The four of them stopped short of the cave. Taking charge, Beau turned to Ace and Teddy. “You two cover me from the trees.” He looked at Dawes. “Go north and watch from the other side.”

Beau motioned for the men to take position, dismounted, then walked along the creek where willows shielded him from view. As he neared the cave, he looked for tracks but saw none. He listened for horses but heard only a rustle in the trees. With his weapon drawn, he stared at the opening in the rocks. His gut told him Johnson had fled, but he fired one shot to be sure. Bats burst out of the cave, a sure sign no one was inside. Even so, he approached with caution. When he reached the side, he turned the corner with his gun drawn.

The empty cave stared back at him. Lowering his Colt, Beau took in tin cans, empty whiskey bottles and something he recognized…the tiny stub of a cigar. No one but Clay smoked them that low. More than a few wanted men had used the cave for shelter. Beau felt certain Johnson had been one of them.

He shouted for Dawes, Teddy and Ace, then squatted next to a fire pit and took a pinch of ash. It couldn’t have been colder. He let it go and watched it vanish into thin air.

Dawes walked into the cave. “Looks like we missed them.”

Beau said nothing. If they hadn’t dawdled at the ranch and gone down a box canyon, they might have found Clay.

The sheriff crossed his arms. “What do you want to do, Morgan?”

“Forge ahead.”

Teddy and Ace walked up together. Teddy pouted like a little girl. “Johnson’s gone. I say we go home.”

“Me, too.” Ace slouched against the opening. “There’s a game at the Silver River tomorrow. If we hurry, I can make it.”

Beau clenched his jaw. “We’re not done.”

Teddy frowned. “My bee sting hurts.”

Beau pushed to his feet, faced Teddy and squared his shoulders. “Look, kid. I’m sorry about your
bee sting,
but you need to toughen up.” He directed his gaze to Ace. “So do you.”

Dawes frowned. “Now, Morgan—”

“I’m plenty tough,” Ace said to Beau. “If anyone needs to wise up, it’s you. Any
fool
can see Johnson’s gone.”

Teddy stood taller. “We’re going home.”

“Hold up,” Dawes said. “I’ll make that decision.”

“Johnson made it for us.” Ace waved his arm. “Look around. He’s gone.”

The sheriff rubbed his moustache, then turned to Beau with a pitiable lack of leadership. Beau understood lawmen like Dawes. He was a peacemaker at heart. He valued justice but didn’t hunger for it. Beau wouldn’t find peace until justice had been served, but he had to face facts. Being quick to compromise, Dawes would take a vote. Beau would lose three to one. He didn’t like the lawman’s methods, but he respected the badge.

He also had an ache in his gut that hurt as much as Teddy’s bee sting. He missed Dani. She’d be worried about him. So would his nieces. Riding on alone, without a goodbye and finalizing the adoption, should have tempted him, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Dani in the lurch. Beau cursed God for His cruelty and Dawes for his incompetence. If they’d come to Sparrow Canyon first, they might have caught Johnson.

He kicked the ashes. “Let’s go home.”

He followed Dawes and his deputies out of the cave, but paused to stare up the canyon. It meandered for miles, an outlaw’s paradise with jagged turns and places to hide. The meadow rippled with thick grass for stolen horses and the stream flowed fast with melted snow. Best of all, the trail veered south and west, giving a man on the run two routes of escape.

Beau couldn’t shake the feeling that Clay was just a mile or two away, up the canyon and watching them, snickering at their lack of will. Beau itched to keep going, but he had a responsibility to Dani and his nieces. Johnson would have to wait. So would his feelings for Dani. Of the two delays, he didn’t know which annoyed him more.

Clay lay on his back, staring at the night sky. A week had passed since they’d raided the Rocking J. The horses, grazing in the moonlight, whickered to each other like old friends. Goose and Andy had shuffled a deck of cards and were gambling for swigs of whiskey. Clay had expected Morgan to find them by now. Instead the lawman had come within a stone’s throw and turned around.

Clay knew Morgan had come into Sparrow Canyon because of yesterday’s ride. He’d gone after a stray mare, seen tracks near the cave and had gone inside. Someone had kicked the fire pit in a fit of temper. Clay felt sure it was Morgan. The man usually rode alone, but Clay had counted three more sets of boot prints. He didn’t think for an instant Morgan had turned back by choice. Clay suspected he’d been with the local sheriff, a man known to be weak.

Looking at the stars, Clay called himself a fool for staying near Castle Rock. With Morgan stuck on a farm with a woman and three girls, Clay could have lost him, maybe for good. He’d had his fill of Goose and Andy, too. If they’d gone south, he could have given them a cut, said goodbye and gone east. He could have been free.

So why hadn’t he done it?

Clay didn’t know. He’d been irked by Andy’s chicken sounds, but more than pride kept him in this canyon. Was it regret? Guilt? He wanted to think he was beyond such feelings—that he was beyond feeling anything at all—but his gut had been churning ever since he’d put down Ricochet. He couldn’t stop thinking about death, Heaven and Reverend Blue’s stories about Jesus.

“For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten son…”

Clay snorted through his nose. No one—except Beau Morgan for the wrong reasons—cared whether he lived or died. The shedding of blood for sin? Someone dying in his place so he could be free? Clay knew nonsense when he heard it, yet somehow he felt a yearning for such goodness. He wanted to believe in Jesus, but he was afraid to pray the prayer Reverend Blue had said with Chet. Clay didn’t know what would happen, but he doubted it would be good. Not even God could forgive a man like Clay.

“You awake, boss?”

Clay glanced across the fire and saw Goose staring through the flames. He grunted. “I am now.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Morgan,” Goose said. “He should have found us by now. I say we smoke him out.”

Clay couldn’t sleep, so he decided to listen. “Got any ideas?”

“I say we hit another ranch. We send Andy down the canyon with the horses. You and I set up an ambush. When Morgan comes through, he’s dead.”

Clay saw the logic, but the plan left a bad taste. Killing Morgan in cold blood would solve one problem, but what about Clay’s guilty conscience? He wanted to sleep at night, not lie awake feeling like pond scum. He already felt so bad that sometimes he wanted to die. Killing Morgan in cold blood wouldn’t make the pain go away.

“I don’t like it,” he said to Goose.

“Why not?”

Clay wasn’t about to bare his soul to Goose, so he looked for another excuse. “What about Dawes?”

“He’s weak. He’ll give up.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Goose’s face went hard. “There’s another possibility.”

“What’s that?”

“We bring the fight to Morgan.”

Clay wished he hadn’t opened his eyes. The thought of putting children in harm’s way made him ill. “I won’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I won’t.”

“It would be easy,” Goose said. “I’ll go to the Silver River. Someone’ll tell me where the farm is. We pay a midnight call and just like that—” he snapped his fingers “—Morgan’s hanging from a tree.”

For three little girls to find…for the woman to cut down and bury. Even worse, what would happen if the woman ran to Morgan’s rescue? They’d have to hurt her. Clay muttered a curse. “It’s too risky.”

Andy rolled over. “I say we visit the farm.”

“No.”

“The woman’s pretty. She smells good, too.”

“Shut up,” Clay growled.

Andy dropped flat and sighed.

Goose stared hard through the fire. “You’re acting like a whipped dog.”

Clay’s pride flared, but he said nothing.

Andy clucked like a hen. He’d been drinking and was sloppy drunk. Clay hated sloppy drunks. His father had been one. He’d either laughed himself silly or beat his wife and sons. Clay’s own father had broken his nose twice. Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the crookedness and hated it. He pushed to his feet, walked past the fire and kicked Andy in the gut.

The kid curled into a ball. “What was that for?”

“For being you.”

Clay was sick to death of these two clowns. Going east sounded better than ever. He had a cousin in St. Louis. He hadn’t seen the fellow in years, but last he’d heard, he ran a dry goods store. The two of them had been boyhood pals, kicking each other in church while the minister droned.

Goose broke into his thoughts. “What’ll it be, boss?”

Clay was still in the St. Louis dry goods store, thinking about his cousin and the Bible stories he’d heard as a boy. He’d had enough of running. Enough of the guilt. But Morgan would never stop.

Goose gave him a stare that challenged more than Clay’s pride. It gave him a choice. Fight like a man or put up with Andy’s chicken sounds. The only feeling in Clay’s life stronger than guilt was a yearning for peace. He couldn’t explain that feeling to Goose or Andy. They were young men intent on leaving their mark. Clay had seen more than forty years of life, and the last few had been tiresome to say the least. He’d had enough. One way or another, he wouldn’t leave this canyon until he settled the score with Morgan.

But settle it how? With a confession?
I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to shoot her.
Or with bloodshed and a quick trip to Heaven or Hell? Looking at the sky, Clay didn’t think Beau Morgan would care that he was sorry. He doubted God would, either. Clay thought hard about his choice. Another raid would satisfy his men and add to their bankroll, but it would also draw out the law. He didn’t want to deal with Dawes and a posse. He just wanted to settle things with Morgan. That meant sending the man a message.