The Outlaw Takes a Bride (30 page)

Johnny walked over to the corral. He had just unsaddled Reckless and turned him loose after a long ride. He didn’t want to ask the horse to work again. But he didn’t feel like talking to Cam, either. How could he admit that he’d failed miserably and Sally was going away?

Reckless was grazing. He needed the rest and nourishment. Johnny turned away and walked around the end of the barn and on up the hill.

Mark’s grave would have been indistinguishable except for the cross. The grass and weeds had grown enough to obscure where they’d turned the earth to bury him. Johnny doubted Sally had been up here since she’d burned herself. He crouched beside the cross and touched the carved vines. Mark’s name should be there, or on a more permanent stone marker. He sat down in the grass.

“She’s leaving me, Mark. I haven’t done right by you or by Sally. It sounds like she might not come back. I don’t know what to do.” It occurred to him that she might hope he would fire Cam and send him away. Would she stay then? Cam could get a job on another ranch, if not here, then back in Colorado, or even up Wyoming way.

But what if he did that, and she still wouldn’t stay? Cam wasn’t the reason she gave for leaving. And if they both went, he would be all alone here with no one to talk to but his horse and his brother’s grave.

There was God.

Johnny glanced up at the cloudless sky. He took off his hat and lay back on the ground.

After a long minute, he said, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what’s right anymore.”

He heard a voice inside his head. His conscience, Ma would have said.

That’s a lie. You
do
know what’s right. And you know what’s wrong
.

The sun beat down on him, too hot. He sat up and put his hat on.

“If I tell her now, she’ll leave for sure,” he said aloud.

The thought came, almost as strong:
If you don’t tell her, she’ll leave anyway. Tell her and let her go knowing the truth
.

What if he told her, and Sally ran and told the sheriff? He thought about that for a long time. At last he rose. Even if he was accused of killing Mark, that would be better than Sally not knowing the man she really loved was honest and true and faithful to her. And dead.

His boots dragged through the grass, but he made himself keep walking toward the house.

Sally folded Mrs. Ricks’s unfinished dress carefully and wrapped it in the brown paper that had been around the cloth when she brought it home. She would have to stop by the yard-goods shop before she went to the train station and return it with her apologies.

She hoped Mark wouldn’t mind leaving home early enough tomorrow to allow for that errand. As usual, when something unpleasant happened, he had walked out the door. To be fair, his behavior wasn’t as bad as David’s had been. David would be in a saloon now—after he’d punished her for suggesting she might leave him.

Life with Mark was in some ways infinitely better than life with David. So why couldn’t she stand it?

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she brushed them away and opened her trunk. She would not back down on this. She’d stuck with one husband through thick and thin, and she’d barely survived. This time she’d been more careful, had waited longer before committing herself. She’d made sure Mark was a man of faith and integrity.

Or so she had thought.

Questioning Mark’s motives was futile. She had done that a thousand times. The most likely explanation she had come up with was that he knew she had miscarried twice before. Was that it? He didn’t want that to happen again? She hadn’t been able to voice the thought to him. And before she came, he had written that he hoped for children, so that couldn’t be it. No, she kept coming back to that unknown factor, the reason he didn’t want to be with her. Not knowing why ate at her. She couldn’t stay any longer unless she knew, but the few times she had asked, he had run from her.

She placed her sewing patterns in the trunk and put one extra dress, her hairbrush, and her Bible in the satchel. She looked around the spotless bedroom to be sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. If she left one item, Mark would hope it meant she’d be back. But she wouldn’t be. Not unless he agreed to change his demeanor toward her.

His footsteps in the outer room froze her for an instant with her calico bonnet in her hands. He was back sooner than she had expected. Good. Maybe he was ready to talk.

Dear Lord, this is our last chance. Please let him want to talk things out. I don’t know how else we can live together. And I do want to, truly. But I just—

She broke off her prayer. Since when did she make excuses to God? It struck her in an instant that she was doing the wrong thing and that she hadn’t given Mark a fair chance to explain himself. True, she had asked him a few times what was wrong and had waited weeks for his answer. Did that mean she should stop waiting and pick up and leave?

“What are you doing?”

She jumped and whirled to face Cam, who stood in the doorway eyeing her open trunk and the satchel on the bed. Her lungs refused to pull in air.

“I’m packing.” She cleared her throat. This could be the last time she would speak to him. “I’m going to visit my family. Mark is taking me to the depot.”

Cam took a step into the room. “I could take you, if you’d rather not talk to Mark.”

She gave him a look she hoped would wither his confidence. “Why would I rather talk to you than to my husband?”

“I don’t know exactly, but you two don’t seem to enjoy talking to each other much.”

She felt her cheeks go crimson. She wanted to deny his assertion, but she couldn’t. Still, that didn’t mean he could walk into her bedchamber and poke his nose into private matters.

“Where’s Mark?” she asked.

“Somewhere out yonder.” Cam glanced toward the empty hooks on the wall and the dresser crate that was now empty. “Guess you’re not figuring on coming back here. You having regrets?”

Sally raised her chin and glared at him. “How dare you!”

Cam smiled and shifted his weight to one foot. “I dare because I think that’s what you want, Sal. You want a man that speaks his mind, don’t you? Not one like Mark, that holds things inside and won’t tell you what he’s really thinking.” He took a step toward her. “Maybe you married the wrong man.”

Sally gasped. The audacity of the man. She raised her hand to slap him, but Cam caught her wrist. His smile widened, and a jolt ran through her. This was exactly why she had asked Mark not to leave her here with Cam. This was the moment she had feared.

“Let go of me,” she managed.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

She dropped her bonnet and shoved his chest, but when he staggered back, he pulled her with him. Sally let out a scream, wondering who would hear her.

J
ohnny tore for the house. That was Sally! Maybe a snake had gotten into the cabin. He glanced into the open front of the barn as he passed, but Cam wasn’t there. Had he heard Sally’s scream and gone to her aid?

He pounded up the steps and through the open door. Muffled sounds came from the new bedroom.

“Stop it!”

Johnny pulled up and listened.

“Let me go!”

“Not just yet.”

Ice water washed over Johnny. That was Cam.

Sally let out another scream, but it stopped abruptly. Johnny crossed the room in three strides. He grabbed Cam by the back of his collar with one arm and yanked him out of the new room. He shoved him across the cabin. Cam crashed against one of the straight chairs and fell, taking the chair with him.

Johnny hurried to the row of pegs by the door. His hand shook as he pulled his revolver from the holster hanging on the wall and leveled it at Cam.

“Get your stuff and ride out.”

Cam looked up at him, dazed, and wiped a hand across his forehead.

“Hey, no harm done.”

“I said get out.” Johnny gazed at him over the gun barrel without blinking.

Cam stared back for a moment, appraising him. A muffled sob came from the bedroom.

“We’ll talk about this later.” Cam staggered to his feet.

“No,” Johnny said. “We’ll never talk about this. Don’t you ever come back.”

Cam threw him a dark look and shuffled outside. Johnny pulled in a deep breath and shut the door. He walked slowly to the bedroom doorway. Sally was huddled on the floor, weeping beside her trunk, her hands over her face. He laid his revolver on the crate that usually held her clothes and walked slowly over to her.

He knelt beside her and put his arms around her. She sobbed harder and burrowed her face into the front of his shirt. Johnny didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He just held on to her and let her cry.

After a long time, she lifted her face and took a deep, shaky breath.

“You tried to tell me,” he said.

“I didn’t think he’d be so…vile.” Her sobs erupted again, and Johnny pulled her in close. She was soft and trembly, and it was too hot to be this close to somebody else, but he held on.

When she sniffed and stirred in his arms, he said, “Got a handkerchief?”

She shook her head. “They’re in my satchel.”

He got up, reluctant to leave her, and walked around the bed. He peered into the satchel and found several ironed, folded hankies and took one out. She had risen, and she took it from his hand and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked away while she mopped her face and wiped her nose.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take what you said more serious, Sally. I should have listened harder.”

She sighed and stared down at the floor. “I thank you for what you did just now. Truly. But a man’s got to be honest with his wife. I love you, Mark, but I know you’re keeping things back. I meant what I said earlier. If you won’t tell me everything, I will get on that train tomorrow.”

He nodded slowly. “I was thinking the same thing—that I need to tell you the truth. And I’m sorry that I didn’t before. Real sorry.”

From outside came a faint shout.

“Johnny! This ain’t over!”

Sally’s eyelids flew up, and she stared at him. With his heart pounding, Johnny retrieved his gun from the crate top and hurried out to the front door. He opened it a few inches and peered out. Cam had his saddlebags and bedroll on Paint’s saddle, and his holster strapped on his thigh. But he was already mounted, and as Johnny watched, he gathered his reins and loped out of the yard, heading toward town.

“What did he mean?”

Sally was right beside him, her eyes huge.

Slowly, Johnny lowered his revolver and turned toward her.

“Let’s sit down.”

She turned and walked over to the table, picked up the chair Cam had tripped over, and set it right. She plunked down in it. Johnny walked over and pulled out the one next to it.

“You want coffee?”

She stared up at him. “No. I want you to talk.”

He swallowed hard, sat down, and laid the gun on the table.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

He nodded and took a deep breath.

“I’m not Mark.”

They sat in silence for a long time. Sally never moved a muscle. What was going through her head?

At last he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I wanted to tell you, first thing. But Cam said—” He broke off and ran his fingers through his hair. What did it matter now what Cam had said? “I’m sorry.”

She frowned, and he hurried on.

“We were up in Colorado, working at the Lone Pine Ranch, Cam and me. I was out riding fence, and I stayed the night in a line shack at the far edge of the ranch. The next morning I was about to head out when Cam came barreling up on Paint and said the foreman had been shot. He said they all thought I did it, and there was talk of lynching me.” His pulse skyrocketed just talking about it, and he made himself breathe deeply.

“You’re John, then.”

“Yeah. But I didn’t do it. I swear, Sally, I was nowhere near that man when he was killed.”

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and watched her for a sign that she was ready for more. Funny, he’d thought telling the truth would feel good.

Sally folded her hands together on the table and stared at them. “Where’s Mark?”