The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (9 page)

EZRA WAS THANKFUL NONE
of his men had dropped by to give him their report.  The men watching his land took care of the cattle on their own section, but brought any major troubles to Boden.  Major troubles included rustling, sickness in the cattle, and so on.  It wasn't the way every ranch worked things, but it worked for Boden.  It gave him the solitude he so craved. 

The peaceful day had given him time to introduce
Willow to the ranch, to make her feel comfortable, but Boden cursed his thoughtlessness later that evening when he walked into the house to see Willow gripping a chair with white-knuckled hands.

Out of all of his men, he trusted Nate, his foreman and friend, the most, but he was also a consummate tease, and thus, the worst man to meet an unsuspecting Willow.  He’d told his friend of her, but not of her circumstances, and as he took note of the fear she fought hard to conceal, he wished he’d taken the time to explain.

“Good evening, Nathan,” Boden said, skirting around his foreman and striding to Willow’s side.  He used Nathan instead of Nate, a sure sign the foreman should behave.

Boden dropped an arm around her waist.  He noticed she didn’t stiffen at his touch.  He reckoned she was too frightened of Nathan to side-step him.

“Well, the boys and I knew you were hidin’ a wife up here, but you didn’t mention that she was such a pretty little thing.”

Nathan winked at Willow, and Ezra choked down a groan.  Willow shivered in his grasp as Nathan gave her the once over.  He’d have hit the man in the face if he’d suspected Nathan of improper thoughts, but the man’s carefree demeanor hid an aching soul.

“I suppose I won’t keep you waiting much longer,” Boden said, drawing himself and a reluctant Willow closer to Nathan.  “Nathan Taylor, meet my wife, Willow.”

“A pleasure,” Nathan said as he gripped
Willow’s hand in his own.  And, of course, the man couldn’t give her just a handshake.  Oh no, he drew her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across the back of it.

Willow
jerked her hand back.

“Feisty one, ain’t she?”

“Nathan, knock it off before you make a jealous husband of me.”  Boden caught Nathan’s eye over Willow’s head and shook his head, warning the other man not to go any further with his teasing.  Boden got a look in return that said they would talk later.

Just when he’d gotten Nathan under control, the boys came running in.  Well, he supposed a man could buy only so much time before all hell broke loose.

“You finally met her, huh, Pa?”  Marshall shouted as he ran into the house.  The screen door slammed shut behind him, and his brother opened it again, letting it slam shut right behind himself as well.

“Yes,
Marshall,” Nathan said and strode to the boys.  “But that’s not how you enter a lady’s home.  It was all right before when Boden was livin’ alone, but now that there’s a lady in the house, you’d best be knockin’ before steppin’ into this house.  You hear?”

“Yes, Pa, we hear,” the boys said in unison as they looked down at their feet.

Willow seemed to snap out of her silence then.  “I take it you boys met me before your father did?”

The boys’ shyness passed as quickly as it had come.

“Sure did.  We helped Boden get you in the house the night he brought you home.  We was afraid you wasn’t gonna to make it.  The fever and all, you know,” Marshall explained.

Benjamin needed to have his say, too.  “Yeah, I ain’t never seen Boden so worried.  Not even when I nearly drowned last summer.”

Boden had fished Benjamin out of Devils Lake after the boy had fallen out of a boat.  The boy hadn’t swallowed all that much water.  All Boden needed was to have the boys painting Willow a picture of his softer side.  That could prove embarrassing. Boden cleared his throat, his signal to Nathan to get himself and his boys out of his house.

Thankfully, Nathan took the hint and herded the boys out.

“Nice boys,” Willow commented after neatly stepping out of his grasp, putting her defenses back in place.

“But you’re not quite as sure about their father?”  Boden asked.  She moved to the stove to work on the supper she insisted on making.

“I’m not sure about men in general,” she spoke the words and appeared to instantly regret them.

“Seems you have reason to be unsure.”  Boden stepped up behind her and took the knife from her shaking hands.  She was chopping up carrots and potatoes to put in the chicken and dumpling stew, and her hands shook so badly he feared she would chop off a finger.

When she looked unsure as to what to do, Boden suggested, “Finish making the dumplings if you’d like.”

Silence ensued, and he figured he’d best try to reassure her.  “Nathan and I have been friends a long time.  He’s a charmer, but that’s all,
Willow.  He’d sooner give his life for a stranger than hurt a friend.”

“He surprised me is all,” she responded after a moment.

Boden could tell she made a concentrated effort to keep her feelings from her face.  “Did he knock?”

Willow
shook her head.

Boden laughed then.  Willow’s head snapped up at the sound.  He explained his laughter, saying, “He lectured the boys for being rude when he’d already done the very thing they were in trouble for.”

Willow caught his humor, and a giggle escaped her lips.  It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, and the sound pleased him.  It was as pretty as she was.

“I’ll let the men know they’re supposed to be extra careful not to startle you,” Boden assured her as he lifted a few handfuls of the vegetables and tossed them in the pot.

“How many men are there on the Box B?”

Boden had purposefully left out the number of his hands when explaining the workings of the Box B; he hadn’t wanted to give her reason for further worry.  It couldn’t be helped now, though, she’d have to meet his crew sooner or later.  “I have eight guys on the place besides Nathan and the boys.”

“All young men?” Willow asked her eyes round with worry.

“Yes.”  Boden took the bowl of dumpling dough from her hands and began dropping spoonfuls over the top of the mixture.  “Gentlemen every one of them.”  They would be, too, or they’d die.

“I see.” Willow sat down at the kitchen table, and Boden joined her there once the dumplings cooked atop the boiling stew.

Boden covered her hand with his.  “They’ll leave you alone,
Willow.  They’ve very little reason to ever approach the house.  They come by to get their orders or to tell Nathan or myself about any problems in their section.”

Willow got to her feet and went to take the lid off of the pot so that the top of the dumplings would cook just right.  “I’ll just have to quit being afraid of every man I meet.”

“Easier said than done if I have any idea of what you’ve been through.”

“I can’t possibly understand how a man like you would understand how I feel.”  Neither her tone nor her words challenged his claim, she merely appeared to wonder at his understanding.

“Like I said before, I knew a woman like you once.” Boden rose from the table and headed toward the door.  “I’ll be right back.  I want to check on a few things before we eat.”

What he really wanted to do was avoid a conversation he didn’t want to have.

A FEW WEEKS PASSED
and Willow learned it wasn’t easy being a wife—wife to the legendary bounty hunter Butcher Boden anyway.

Willow
had no idea what she was supposed to do.  Thus far, her husband had allowed her to do absolutely nothing.  He even cooked their meals, insisted actually.

Well, tonight she’d be making dinner.

She reached for the skillet where the potatoes fried only to snatch her hand back when she found the handle too warm for comfort.  Her thumb went immediately into her mouth.

“That’s why cooking is man’s work,” Boden joked from the doorway.  A broad grin spread across his handsome face.  Something about that smile gave her hope, made her feel cared for.

Willow wondered what household he’d grown up in to even say such a thing.  Most men would equate the statement with blasphemy.  She kept this all to herself, unsure about teasing him back.

She wondered if she should have said something when he strode her way, his gaze intent on her.  Once before her, he slowly lifted a hand, took her wrist, and gently drew her thumb from her mouth.

“Looks all right to me,” Boden said after studying her thumb.  “A small blister is all.”

He blew on it before releasing her wrist.  Willow felt a strange flutter in her stomach at the act.  It wasn’t unpleasant only unfamiliar.

“I’ve made dinner for us,” Willow said to break the spell his gentleness cast upon her.  “I can’t have you waiting on me all of the time.”

“That part of your plan to keep me from spoiling you?”

She nodded.   He laughed.

Willow
turned back to the stove and dished out a portion of the stew for Boden.  She sat it down in front of him and turned back to get him a glass of water.  There wasn’t any water left in the bucket.  She grabbed the bucket and headed for the door.

“I can get that,” Boden said as his chair scraped the floor.

“I’ll get it,” she said without turning to look at her husband.  “I don’t mind.”

And she didn’t. 
He actually makes waiting on him feel
—she searched her mind for the right word—
good
. 
That’s it
.

She swung the bucket at her side as she made her way to the well.  She lowered the empty bucket and drew up a brimming one moments later.  She splashed a bit of water on her skirts as she fought to get a good grip on the handle.

“I see he’s put you to good use,” a deep and all too familiar voice said from behind her.

The bucket slipped from her fingers, hitting the ground with a thud, sending water all over her skirt.

“He’s got you nervous,” French dismounted from his all black quarter horse and leaned against the animal’s side.  He effectively trapped her between himself and the well.  To get back to the house she’d have to pass him.  His wide, white-toothed smile demonstrated he knew the position he placed her in.

Willow backed up against the well.

“Seems he’s not any better than the rest of us.”

“He is,” Willow asserted and realized as she spoke that she actually believed the words.

Sheriff French shifted away from his horse and took a long step toward her.

“YOU BOTHERIN' MY WIFE
, French?” Boden said from the porch.  He posed his question quietly, but those who knew him best understood exactly what that meant.  They knew he fought a cold fury.

“No,” French answered, putting his arm around Willow’s shoulder.

“Get your arm off her.” Boden walked down the porch steps and toward his wife. 

French removed his arm.

“Smart man,” Boden said once he loomed only a few feet away.

Willow
wasted no time moving nearer him.  Boden draped his arm around her shoulder in a daring show of possessiveness.  He worried she would back away from him, so he nearly smiled when she huddled as close to him as she could.

He grinned at French’s look of disbelief.  Boden figured he’d never seen
Willow go to any man willingly.

“What are you here for, French?”

“Just checkin’ up on you, Boden.” French leaned against the well.  “She’s a murderer, you know.  Hate to see you get killed because I chose to have a contest.”

Boden just bet the man would love to see him dead.  “She’s no murderer, French.  I know it. You know it.”

“All right, so I really came to make sure you’re treatin’ her right.”  French smirked and turned his attention to Willow.  “I only came up with that contest to give you a second chance, Willow.  I didn’t want to see you die.”

“No, you wanted to see me suffer,”
Willow challenged from the safety of Boden’s embrace.

“Now see here–” French began, starting for
Willow.

“Leave, French, before I kill you,” Boden threatened softly.

That whispered threat stopped French in his tracks.  “This is my jurisdiction.  I have a right to be here.”

“This is my property.  I have the right to shoot you for tresspassin’.”

French seemed to know he’d be the loser in their battle of wills.  He mounted up, but before he jerked his horse around, he got in a threat of his own.

“I’d keep an eye out for yourself, Boden.  Anything happens to you, I’d blame the little lady.  No one escapes the noose twice.”

The sheriff, poor excuse for a lawman that he was, spurred his horse out of the barnyard.

Boden glanced down at his wife, expecting to find her fearful. Instead she shook with anger.  She stepped out of his arms and spoke with a vehemence he’d never heard from her before.

“If he even thinks about shooting you, I’ll kill him.”  She punctuated her words by first pointing an angry finger at Boden then at French's retreating form.