The Bounty Hunter's Bride (6 page)

Reverend Blue cleared his throat. “In spite of his bad toe, Beau got up to help her. When he opened the door, Johnson fired. Lucy died in Beau’s arms.”

In Wisconsin, Dani could look at a tulip and see God in the petals. She could catch a snowflake and see the divine beauty. Staring at the rippling grass, she saw nothing but Lucy Morgan’s blood and Patrick’s riderless horse. “Where was God?” she said in a whisper.

“Same place He is right now,” said the Reverend.

“I don’t feel Him.”

“I think you do, Miss Baxter.” She felt the Reverend’s gaze on the side of her face. “I see tears in your eyes. Our Lord’s weeping, too. For Beau. For you. For those three little girls. Bad things happen. It’s a fact. But the Lord will see you through.”

“I know that’s true,” Dani murmured. “It
has
to be true.”

Yet she couldn’t shake the niggling fear that she’d left God in Wisconsin. She looked to the Reverend for comfort but didn’t find it. His eyes were on his wife, blazing with a protectiveness that tore Dani’s heart in two. With Patrick’s death, she could only dream of a man looking at her that way.

The Reverend’s throat twitched with emotion.

Adie’s eyes misted.

Dani’s throat hurt. It tightened even more when the girls spilled out of the stable door. Emma had a blanket draped over her arm. Ellie had the box of kittens and Esther’s little legs pumped as she tried to keep up with her sisters. Dani raised her chin. God had denied her a husband, but she could still be a mother.

The Reverend broke into her thoughts. “I spoke at Lucy’s funeral.” He bit off the last word, as if he could barely say it. “I’m a man of God, Miss Baxter. I believe in Heaven and Hell and living well in between, but I could barely say a word that day.”

Adie interrupted. “I’ll tell the rest. I’m the one who cooked Beau his last meal.”

“It was roast beef,” the Reverend said.

“And raspberry pie. I’d given Lucy the recipe.”

Dani bit her lip to fight the dread.

Adie laced her fingers together. “I’ll never forget that last night on the porch. Lucy had been gone a month when Beau said he was leaving town. As cold as death, he said, ‘I’m going to hunt down Clay Johnson and kill him.’”

“I believed him,” said the Reverend.

“I still do,” Adie replied.

Dani shivered. “That’s why he’s been so protective, isn’t it? Clay Johnson…is he in the area?”

“Beau thinks so,” Adie said.

Fear, danger and dirt. Beau Morgan had brought all three into the lives of three little girls. Dani’s heart broke for his loss, but she feared for Patrick’s daughters. She turned to Adie. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

“Could the girls and I stay with you a few days?”

Adie tilted her head. “Are you still afraid of Beau?”

“No,” Dani replied. “But I
am
afraid of Clay Johnson. What if he comes to the farm?”

Adie looked at Josh. “Dani has a point.”

“I’ll speak to Beau,” said Reverend Blue. “He’ll know best.”

Dani thought of the ride through town. Surely Beau would want to keep them safe. “Thank you.”

Adie touched her shoulder. “You must be exhausted. Would you like to rest a bit?”

Dani shook her head. “If I close my eyes, I’ll see Patrick.”

“A walk might be nice,” Adie said kindly.

“I think I will. Is the church open?”

“Always,” said the Reverend.

As she pushed to her feet, Dani looked at the tin steeple. The sun had dropped in the sky, turning it from silver to gray. The edges no longer seemed so sharp. Maybe she’d go inside. Maybe she wouldn’t. Mostly she wanted to cry and she wanted to do it alone. She looked across the yard and saw the girls. They seemed content, but in the distance she saw the stirring of dust from a wagon and recognized Beau Morgan holding the reins. He had her future in his hands, as well. She had to convince him she could handle the girls and the farm. That would be hard to do if they stayed with the Blues, but neither did she like the idea of an outlaw stalking them.

Patrick? Are you watching? What should I do?

Silence.

With her heart aching, Dani headed for the cemetery.

Beau steered the wagon into the yard and stopped. The chairs on the porch sent him back in time to Denver, where Josh and Adie had lived in a Mansion named Swan’s Nest. Beau and another deputy had taken to visiting on Wednesday nights. During the third visit, Josh had opened his Bible and read scriptures from Proverbs, the funny ones about fools and carping women. Their little group had turned into the Wednesday Ruckus, a men’s Bible study that didn’t mince words. That’s how Beau got roped into church on Sunday…How he’d met Lucy.

As he climbed down from the seat, he saw Josh come out of the parsonage. The man looked harder than ever. Rail thin and tall, he resembled a chimney pipe. Beau wasn’t in the mood for Josh’s kind of fire, but he was glad to see his old friend.

“Hello, Reverend.”

“Reverend?” The preacher faked a scowl. “You used to call me Josh.”

Beau offered his hand to shake, but Josh pulled him into a bear hug and thumped him hard between the shoulder blades. Beau pounded back. In Denver he’d enjoyed having friends, men who’d told jokes when times were bright and stayed quiet when they weren’t. He missed them. He missed a lot of things. He stepped back. “It’s been a long time.”

“Five years, friend.” Josh’s eyes burned like coal. “Where in the world have you been?”

“I think you know.”

“Only what you told Adie.” Josh put his hands on his hips, pulling back the flaps of his coat. “You and I need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” Beau’s voice dropped to a growl. He didn’t want to hear about forgiving his enemies. He wanted an eye for an eye. He wanted Clay Johnson to swing from a rope.

Josh aimed his chin at the girls. “You have three children in your care.”

“I know that.”

“And Miss Baxter, too.”

“Only because she’s too stubborn to go home.” Beau looked at the red curtains in the window. He half expected to see Miss Baxter spying on him, but the gingham hung straight. “Where is she?”

“Taking a walk. I’m sorry about Patrick.”

“Me, too,” Beau said. “Those girls are suffering.”

“So’s Miss Baxter.”

Beau didn’t need to be reminded of the woman’s tears. He’d been the one to deliver the bad news. He’d felt the same pain when Lucy died. “I know all about it.”

“Yes, you do.”

Beau appreciated Josh’s plain tone. He hated pity, but he hated Clay Johnson even more. A bitter rage burned in Beau’s soul. “Johnson’s close, Josh. I can smell him.”

“Is he a threat?”

“I don’t know.”

Beau told Josh about the trinkets Johnson had left him, the taunting letters. “I don’t know what he’ll do next. He could run, or he could turn the tables and come after me.”

Josh folded his arms again. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Beau thought back to Lucy’s funeral. To Josh’s credit, he hadn’t said a word about forgiveness. He’d saved that speech for the day Beau rode out of Denver.

Bitterness will eat you alive, my friend. Vengeance belongs to the Lord.

Fine, but Beau wanted to be the man to put the noose around Johnson’s neck. As soon as he took care of his nieces, he’d get back to the business of revenge. As for the bothersome Baxter woman, she’d be better off in Wisconsin with her family.

Josh’s expression stayed hard. “Adie tells me you scared the daylights out of Miss Baxter. That was a fool thing to do.”

Beau grunted. “She’s as green as grass.”

“Not from what I can see.”

“Then you haven’t seen much.”

“I’ve seen plenty.” Josh looked Beau up and down. “Looks like you found time for a bath.”

Beau wished he’d worn his duster over his new clothes. The blue shirt made him feel like a dandy, and so did the brown leather vest. The gun belt still hugged his hip, but he’d slicked back his hair and his jaw had a shine. Beau scowled. “Adie shamed me into it.”

“Adie’s wise.”

She was also a good cook. Beau smelled supper on the stove. His mouth watered, but he refused to be hungry.

Josh eyed him thoughtfully. “Thanks to your bad manners, Miss Baxter wants to stay here with the girls.”

Beau toyed with the idea but rejected it. “The woman can do whatever she wants, but I want the girls on the farm.”

“Is it safe?” Josh asked.

“As safe as I can make it.” His nieces shared his name. Beau wanted them where he could see them. He didn’t expect Johnson to ride into town, but the outlaw had a sick mind.

“Can I give you some advice?” Josh asked.

“Can I stop you?”

“No, so here it is. The girls think of Miss Baxter as their new mother. They think of you as an intruder. They trust her. No matter what you decide, things will be easier if she’s on your side.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“She made a promise to Patrick. She wants to adopt the girls.”

“I know.” Josh lowered his voice. “I know something else.”

“What?”

“I can’t share it with you.”

Beau thought of Emma standing at the farmhouse window.
He went to see Pastor Josh. He was in a hurry.
Had Patrick gotten cold feet? Beau remembered the day before he’d married Lucy. He’d been crazy about her, but his knees had turned to jelly before the wedding. If Patrick had changed his mind, Miss Baxter’s promise to adopt the girls meant nothing. She’d be free to go home to Wisconsin.

Beau hated secrets, but he trusted Josh. “You know best.”

“I hope so.”

No matter what troubled the minister, Beau knew he’d wield the sword of truth with discretion. Before coming to Colorado, Joshua Blue had been a high-and-mighty preacher in Boston. He’d suffered for his misplaced words and knew the power of a loose tongue.

So did Beau. He’d spoken too quickly when he’d asked Daniela Baxter to stay at the farm. His belly had been growling and he hadn’t given the situation enough thought. The girls were already too attached to her. With each day, that tie would grow stronger and they’d all end up heartbroken. With Harriet Lange in the picture, Beau hoped the situation would be resolved in a matter of days, a few weeks at the most. He could live on pancakes until then.

As for Daniela Baxter, she’d be better off with the Blues. Once the shock of Patrick’s death wore off, Beau felt sure she’d head home to Wisconsin.

“Where is she?” he asked. “I need to speak with her.”

“Look in the church.”

His stomach lurched. No way would he go inside that building. He turned to ask Josh to fetch her, but the minister had already slipped into the house. Beau turned back to the building and scowled at it. He’d gone to church twice after Lucy’s death. With a groaning deeper than words, he’d hit his knees. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”

That day, Beau had wanted Lucy so bad he couldn’t catch his breath. He no longer felt the freshness of the first cut of loss, but he remembered those days bitterly…and the nights, too. He’d slept with his face buried in Lucy’s nightgown, breathing in her lilac scent. He’d pressed her pillow to his belly and curled around it.

Surely goodness and mercy…
What goodness? Mercy for whom?

Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death…
A valley so long it never ended. A shadow so dark it mocked the night.

I shall fear no evil…

At least that much of the Psalm was true. Nothing scared Beau, least of all death. For five years, he’d been living in a fog of misery so thick it blinded him worse than night. Standing in the yard, he took in the church. The front steps numbered four and were as wide as the double doors. Brass knobs, lit by the sun, waited to be turned. The building, Beau realized, was a twin of the one Josh had built in Denver. Tall windows would line the sides, and the pulpit would be adorned with a soaring eagle.

Annoyed, he climbed the stairs and gripped the doorknob. The brass warmed his palm, but his blood ran cold. Where was God when Lucy died? Where was God now? Beau couldn’t stand the thought of going inside the church. As he turned away, he heard someone weeping in the garden. It had to be the Baxter woman. When Lucy died, Beau had been embraced by friends. She had no one. He considered leaving, but he had to speak with her. He also knew exactly how she felt. With his throat tight, he headed for the garden. At the gate, he plucked a lily.

Too late, he realized the flowers marked a cemetery. In the far corner he saw the woman sitting on a bench. He took in her pink dress, the pink roses climbing on the rock wall, the pinkish hue of the grave markers. He couldn’t stand all that rosiness, but neither could he walk away. With the lily in hand, Beau went to offer the comfort he’d yet to find for himself.