The Lawman Claims His Bride (Love Inspired Historical) (11 page)

No matter what happened in the coming days, she would always be Logan’s wife. They’d said their vows in front of witnesses and were pledged to one another in the name of the Lord. Nothing could take him away from her now.

Stopping the wagon to let a mother and her three children pass, Logan reached out and laid his hand over hers. Megan rotated her wrist until their palms met. Her racing heartbeat slowed to a steady tap, tap, tap.

Oh, yes,
she thought.
No matter what may come, I will always be this man’s wife.

Chapter Eleven

L
ogan didn’t mind putting in long hours on the trail—when he was in pursuit of an outlaw. But
this,
this clipping along at a snail’s pace while seated in a rickety old wagon was not his idea of a favorable experience for anyone.
Especially
not for his new bride.

Unable to find a comfortable position on the hard wooden seat, he shifted. And then shifted some more. As he had every few minutes since leaving town, he tracked his gaze across the endless, open country up ahead. He looked to his right, to his left, back to his right, everywhere but directly at Megan. He couldn’t bear to witness the disappointment in her eyes.

How could she not be disappointed? She would be spending her wedding night in a slow-moving wagon headed to a strange destination. Logan felt a sharp pain of regret.

His wife deserved a real wedding night, with soft words, heartfelt compliments and extraordinary patience from her very attentive bridegroom. Tonight should have been special for them both, one of the best moments of their lives. But it wouldn’t be the wedding night either of them had imagined. Megan was in a fragile state and Logan couldn’t allow himself to think of what might have been, only what lay ahead.

Frowning, he rubbed the base of his neck where most of his tension had settled. He wanted to look at his wife and smile. He wanted to break the awkward silence that had fallen over them.

He kept his eyes trained on the view up ahead.

They’d left Denver just as the sun had begun its descent over the mountains in the distance. Dusk painted the sky in a kaleidoscope of muted purples, reds and oranges.

Wondering what Megan thought of the view, Logan still kept his gaze locked on the trail.

The sound of the creaking wagon wheels brought memories from long ago rushing back. He’d made this trek from Denver to his home many times, both as a boy and a young deputy marshal.

As the crickets harmonized with one another and a breeze tousled his hair, Logan realized how much he’d missed his childhood home. Too many years had passed since he’d last traveled this route, a trek he could make with his eyes closed.

He shouldn’t have stayed away so long. Especially when his reasons had nothing to do with his parents or younger siblings.

Unpleasant memories threatened, pulling him toward thoughts of his brother and what they’d lost in a moment of unbridled anger.

Refusing to allow his mind to go back to that terrible night when accusations had flown as fast as fists, Logan forced himself to look out over the mountains. The approaching night had colored them a rich, midnight blue. A slight chill in the air warned that spring hadn’t fully settled over the land yet.

Logan grimaced. He’d forgotten how cold the nights could get in this part of the country, even in late March. He and Megan were in for an uncomfortable journey.

He hoped traveling at night wasn’t a mistake, not that he could change his mind now. Logan had wanted the cover of darkness to hide their progress. And he knew this route so well, knew any dangers they might face along the way, that he felt comfortable taking Megan out in the wild at this late hour.

The four-legged predators, he could handle. He was fast with a gun, any gun. He’d made sure to set his rifle close at hand, his six-shooter even closer. Nevertheless, he was still concerned about the two-legged danger chasing Megan. At least no one would expect them to travel at this late hour. The thought gave Logan a sliver of comfort.

But what if Megan was afraid of the dark? He sucked in a hard breath. He hadn’t thought to ask.

As if in answer, she sighed happily and gripped his arm in a loose hug. After another moment, she leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed again.

A shock of masculine pleasure went through him, warming his heart. She smelled so good. Too good. For one terrible, wonderful, insanely confusing moment Logan considered stopping the wagon and kissing his bride properly.

He abstained. Barely. The feelings stirring in his gut were unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. They were so strong he was afraid he might unintentionally hurt her.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice tight from holding on to his control.

“Not at all.” She snuggled closer, then rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. She was practically purring.

He gritted his teeth.

As if to test his resolve, she lifted up and kissed him on the cheek. Shyly. Sweetly. Engulfing Logan in a riot of warmth and chaotic emotions. Thrown off guard by his reaction, he clutched the reins tighter.

She’s suffered a trauma,
he reminded himself sternly.
You have to be careful with her. Extremely careful. This isn’t a normal wedding night.

Logan closed his eyes and swallowed. Hard.

“How long before we arrive home?” she asked.

Home.
The softly spoken word quieted the loud, thumping din in his ears. Yes, they
were
heading home, where Megan would be safe. And Logan could finally breathe easier. “I’m afraid in this old wagon it’s going to take us most of the night.”

“Oh?” She didn’t sound overly disappointed, merely curious.

“The ranch is about twelve miles due north,” he explained. “I predict we’ll arrive at the Flying M by sunrise.”

“The Flying M. Is that the name of your family’s ranch?”

“Yes.”

“I like it. And do you know? I just realized that I’ve never been this far out of Denver.” She angled her head to stare out over the mountains. “That makes this my first real adventure.” She let out a husky laugh. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

Logan’s heart swelled. “Me, too.”

Setting the reins in his lap, he took her chin and gently guided her to look at him. “But, Megan—” he dropped his hand “—I never wanted to take you away so quickly, without allowing you time to say goodbye to everyone.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “I know.”

A brief moment of understanding passed between them.

“It can’t be helped,” she said.

“No. It can’t.”

He leaned forward, but Megan looked quickly away. “It’s so beautiful out here. Look at the mountains over there.” She swept her arm in a dramatic arc. “They’re almost purple under the fading light. And the uneven slope of the foothills is magnificent. How could anyone look at all this and not believe in God?”

Logan squinted in the direction she indicated. “I have no idea,” he said. But as soon as the words left his mouth he thought of his brother and the bitterness that had permeated Hunter’s soul even in childhood.

“I don’t understand how so many people can reject the Lord.” Her voice held a large dose of sadness, as though she was thinking of someone in particular.

Logan was doing the same thing. “I think some people don’t want to believe in God because it means they have to answer for their actions.” He wondered if that was the case with his big brother. “Or maybe they’re simply running from the Lord.” Another likely scenario. “Or maybe—”

“They’re comfortable in their own misery,” Megan finished for him, lifting her arm so she could touch the pretty bracelet dangling from her wrist.

Logan considered her words. “Perhaps that’s true. For some.”

In the case of his brother, Logan didn’t believe comfort had anything to do with the road he’d chosen. Willful from a young age, obedience hadn’t been in Hunter’s nature. Respect for authority had been a foreign concept, as well.

Though they’d butted heads many times and had never agreed on much, Logan missed his brother. Or rather, he missed the man Hunter could have been.

Had Hunter been predestined for wickedness? Was it in his blood to do wrong?

A dull ache swirled in the pit of his stomach. If that were the case, Logan would have turned in that direction, as well.

Maybe he still could. The possibility was why he held such a tight rein on his temper. Always. As long as he controlled his baser emotions he would be the better man.

“Tell me about the Flying M,” Megan said, her innocent request cutting into Logan’s unpleasant thoughts.

Happy for the distraction, he thought for a moment, trying to decide how best to describe a slice of paradise.

“If you think the land out here is beautiful, wait until we arrive at the ranch,” he said. “The main house and outer buildings are huddled in a large, flat valley at the base of the Rocky Mountains. Just north of the homestead, there’s a long tree line filled with a mixture of aspens, Colorado firs and other vegetation. The colors are spectacular in the fall.”

“I can only imagine. But you said outer buildings, as in more than one. How many in all?”

Logan’s heart filled with satisfaction. He wasn’t bringing his new bride to some run-down homestead off the beaten track. He was taking her to one of the most successful cattle ranches north of Texas. “There’s the main house, of course, a bunkhouse that sleeps ten, a smokehouse, a barn, a separate stable for the work horses, a small guest cabin on the north range and a matching one in the south pasture.”

“Oh, my.” She sounded fascinated, and not at all intimidated.

His pleasure increased tenfold. “Much like Charity House, the Flying M requires a lot of coordination to run properly.”

A wistful sigh slipped past her lips. “It sounds wonderful. An artist’s dream.”

Her words made him smile. “Speaking of which, I never gave you your wedding present.”

“Oh, Logan, the ring is more than enough.” She lifted her hand and studied the sapphire from several different angles. “I can’t imagine a better gift.”

At the sound of all that genuine happiness, words backed up in his throat. His new bride was so easy to please. Maybe too easy. He couldn’t shake the notion he was going to let her down somehow, that he was going to hurt her in some unimaginable way unless he was vigilant.

He would simply have to be vigilant.
Always.

It would come easier once he got Megan to the ranch, where she could begin the healing process.

Which reminded him...

He reached under his seat and retrieved her present.

* * *

Megan watched, fascinated, as Logan placed a package on her lap. She glided her finger along the silky red ribbon tied around the plain brown paper. Trying to guess what he’d bought her, she lifted the gift closer to her face. The gesture sent her slightly off balance.

“Go ahead,” he said, helping her steady herself with a hand to her arm. “Open it.”

“All right.” She blinked, then lowered her gaze.

Inexplicable emotion gathered inside her, turning into something she recognized but couldn’t quite name. Dismay, perhaps? Fear?

For crying out loud, this was a wedding gift from her husband. There was nothing to fear. Not from Logan.

Then why were her hands shaking? And why,
why,
was she hesitating?

For a dreadful moment Megan lost her bearings. She didn’t feel in the moment. Not fully. She felt overwhelmed with emotion from the day. Surely that explained why every thought simultaneously slowed down and sped up, becoming a tangled ball of confusion in her mind.

Just open the gift,
she told herself.

Fingers still shaking, she untied the ribbon and in one quick flick of her wrist tore off the wrapping paper.

“It’s a book.” Relieved, she opened the cover and flipped through several pages. Then several more. “With blank pages.” She swung her gaze to Logan. “I don’t understand.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It’s a sketchbook.”

A sketchbook? She turned another page. Well, of course. Why hadn’t she realized that at once?

“I saw your paintings on the Charity House walls when I went to speak with Marc this morning.” A sweet, almost vulnerable note entered his voice. “I thought, maybe, that you might...that is, I thought you might like to practice your drawing?”

The uncertainty in his voice made her smile. “It’s wonderful.”

And it was. But not because she’d have a chance to draw, freely, whatever she liked, whenever she wished. Although, that was quite an exciting prospect. No, what struck her as completely wonderful was that Logan had put so much thought into her gift.

He was giving her a chance to pursue her art on her own terms. No pressure. No hidden expectations.

What a dear man.

“You really like it?” he asked, sounding as shy as he had that day long ago when he’d first asked her to go for a walk with him down the lane. It had been love at first sight for both of them, which had made them unbearably shy around one another.

Much like they were with each other now.

“I love it.” She hugged the sketchbook and then kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Logan continued looking at her, but night had descended and she could no longer read his expression.

Something about the way his hat sat on his head, something in the off-center angle sent a cold thread of alarm spinning through her.

Confused at her reaction, she fiddled with the corner of her new sketchbook.

Logan patted her trembling hand. “Try to get some rest. We have a long, tedious night of travel ahead of us.”

“Of course.” But she knew she wouldn’t sleep, not with her mind in such turmoil. She must focus on happy thoughts, if only to escape the darkness looming inside her own head.

Picturing the look on Logan’s face as he’d stared down at her during their wedding ceremony helped. But not completely. Reminding herself he was her husband now, she buried her face in his sleeve. His heat enveloped her and she relaxed at last.

“I love you, Logan,” she whispered, certain he couldn’t make out her muffled words through the thick layer of wool.

A full minute of silence passed, cut only by the sound of a hundred crickets fighting to be heard over one another.

But then, Logan covered her hand with his once again. “I love you, too, Megan.” He let her go. “More than you know.”