Marry Me by Sundown

by Johanna Lindsey

  She was a young lady out of her element who’d been scared that night and needed someone to comfort and protect her, and while she had desired him at the time, she might have regretted what she’d done. Of course she would. She was used to sophisticated, wealthy noblemen, even talked about marrying one. She’d never settle for a mountain-man miner like him. One more thing to infuriate him, that she didn’t think he was good enough for her.

  No matter what came to mind to explain her taking off like that, it didn’t diminish his anger. It was a fact that she’d left the moment she’d gotten what she wanted from him, the money to pay off that loan on her family’s home and a mining partnership that would last long enough for her to pay it back. Would she have stayed if he’d agreed to a permanent partnership? Possibly, but he’d never know now.

  He couldn’t even guess which way she’d gone. That was why he hadn’t found her yet. The rain had washed away her horse’s hoof marks, and he’d done too good a job confusing her about the location of the mines. He’d even ridden to Dillon, the last town before Butte on the train line, to see if she’d bought her train ticket there. If she’d ridden directly west and run into the train tracks, and remembered that town from when she’d arrived, she might think she was closer to Dillon and head south to it. But she hadn’t been there either, and his anger had turned into fear. Four damn days. Could she really still be alive out here in this heat, without food?

  He’d returned to his cabin late last night for a few hours of sleep and to check if Texas had left another note. His friend was out searching for Violet, too, but his latest note was no more encouraging than the others. Morgan had ended up sleeping till noon, a waste of good daylight, but he wasn’t surprised, with as little sleep as he’d been getting since she’d left him. Left him? It did feel personal when it shouldn’t.

  He had planned to check Butte again and then Helena today, though with this late start, Helena might have to wait until tomorrow. She might have gone there just to hide while she waited for her brothers to arrive.

  He rode north to the east road. Halfway there he saw the dust cloud, not big like the ones stagecoaches made because of their speed, but big enough to indicate more than a couple of riders. He stopped and pulled out Charley’s spyglass. Eight horses riding at a slow trot—and he spotted Violet on one almost immediately. How could he miss that silly parasol?

  His relief was tremendous, until he saw who was riding next to her, and then his rage surged back, worse than ever, because he’d been right from the start—she really was in cahoots with Shawn Sullivan. Had the man promised her a fortune for her mine that night he met her at the hotel? She’d just had to find her way there first, and she’d done that and was now leading him right to both mines for her big payday. Sullivan wouldn’t care that she wasn’t in a position to sell Charley’s mine; he’d pay just as much for the location.

  And they were almost there. They would notice him soon after they left the road to ride south. He was so furious he couldn’t even think how to keep them away from his mountain. They were too close, and besides, she was leading them right to it. He really had misjudged her. This was what she’d apologized for with the gift of her body. She’d known all along that she would betray him.

  He headed back to the mountain to take cover in the first copse of trees, a mile or so before Texas’s camp. He pulled out the spyglass again; Sullivan’s party hadn’t come into view yet. He waited, still not sure how he was going to handle this. Fire the first shot? He’d have cover, they wouldn’t. Or maybe he should just go blow up both mines before they reached them. Now, that sounded like a plan he could live with. And he’d beat them to town and have Charley’s mine invalidated to boot. Revenge at its finest. So why did it give him a sick feeling in his gut?

  He trained the spyglass again, then frowned when there was still no sign of a dust cloud. Cautiously he rode, back toward the road, but still didn’t see it. What the hell? He kept going, and when he finally reached the road, he saw the tail end of their cloud—beyond his mountain.

  He started to laugh. She didn’t know where the mines were. Had she found her way back to Butte by sheer luck, or had she encountered someone who had shown her the way?

  He began to follow them, staying far enough back that he could only see that dust cloud with the spyglass. When they made camp for the night and settled down to sleep, he was going to steal her away from them. He wasn’t going to leave her out here with Sullivan long enough for her to eventually figure out where the mines were. He was going to take her straight to the claims office in Butte and have her watch as he invalidated Charley’s claim. Just desserts, as far as he was concerned.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  VIOLET’S GUN WAS IN her valise. No one had searched it to see if she had a weapon, probably because she was a woman. She’d been told to leave the valise behind, that she wouldn’t need it, but she’d refused, so one of the men had tied it to her saddle. Having her own gun close at hand was the only thing that kept her from panicking during that long day of riding surrounded by guards who had the look of hardened men.

  They definitely weren’t Shawn’s miners, each with a gun on their hip and a rifle on their saddle; they wore vests, their coats already removed—it was going to be another hot day. These were likely the men that Morgan had told her had broken into his crates at the train station and beaten her father in an alley. Irish easterners, probably from Chicago where Shawn was from and who obviously didn’t mind breaking the law any more than their employer did.

  Kayleigh had awakened her at six o’clock that morning, telling her to be dressed to travel, as if she’d already agreed to this trip, so she’d replied, “An excellent idea, in case my brothers do agree to sell the mine.”

  “Oh?”

  “Obviously, none of us will have to come back this way if your brother knows where the mine is located.”

  “Of course.” Kayleigh smiled. “Smart of you to finally realize that, lass.”

  They had been a little late in leaving, due to some emergency at Sullivan’s mine that he’d had to deal with, so they hadn’t departed until nine o’clock. She’d had to mention when they left that it was going to take a day and a half to get to the mine. She’d expected that acquiring more provisions might delay them further, but they’d apparently already prepared for being gone several days.

  It was another sweltering day on the road. And she couldn’t stop worrying. This plan had sounded fine when she’d discussed it last night with Abigail and her father, but what if Abigail was a part of Sullivan’s plan and was just pretending to be on their side? Had the housekeeper really gotten Charles out of the house today? Would the sheriff show up to rescue her?

  At least she was pleased when they passed Morgan’s mountain. She made sure not to even glance at it. But when they made camp that night, Shawn Sullivan didn’t hide his impatience.

  He joined her at the campfire where she was sitting. It was one of three his men had started, and they were close enough to the road for the sheriff to see the firelight if he hadn’t stopped for the night, too.

  Sullivan looked frustrated and tired, but his tone was sharp when he said, “If you’ve lied about how long this trip is going to take—”

  “I haven’t lied,” she cut in. “It took a full day and a half to get there, plus a few extra hours of Morgan riding at night. The last thing I saw before he blindfolded me was three mountains pretty far away in different directions, north, south, and east, similar to where we are now. I don’t know which one he headed to after that.”

  “But you managed to get back to Butte. You can’t even remember that route?”

  “What I did was get horribly lost for a day and a half until I had the good fortune to run across your surveyors. My only guess is that the mines are north of this road, because he did turn north at one point before I got blindfolded.”

  He moved away, but her trembling set in as soon as he did. She didn’t know what she was going to do if the sheriff di
dn’t arrive soon, at least before dawn. She could only keep them on that road for about three more hours, because she’d already told Sullivan that they’d turned north. She was going to have to pick a spot to do that while the three mountains were still within view. Would the sheriff notice their tracks leaving the road tomorrow if he had halted his search for the night? Bloody hell, where was he? He should have arrived by now.

  She’d been allowed to sleep by herself beside one of the campfires, a little distance away from the men. But she couldn’t sleep, was attuned to every little sound around her, a cough, a snore, the crackle of the fires, crickets that chirped too loudly, everything but the sound she most wanted to hear—the posse arriving. She felt like crying again, but didn’t. She wanted to escape, and gave that some thought. But that would give away her plan, reveal that she wasn’t really cooperating, so she forced herself to have faith in Abigail and the sheriff. She couldn’t lose her nerve at this point!

  A hand went over her mouth. She hadn’t heard him coming but could see him clearly in the firelight, Morgan leaning over her. He’d come to rescue her again! He really did care for her. She tried to sit up. The hand on her mouth tightened. Did he think she’d give him away?

  Before she realized what was happening, he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and moved silently away from Sullivan’s camp. Then he started running. She bounced painfully against his shoulder and back, gasping for breath. How long could he run and carry her this way? When he finally set her down on her feet, she leaned over, drawing air into her lungs. Morgan loomed over her, and she saw Caesar hobbled nearby. She straightened up and whispered, “Thank you for rescuing me again. This situation isn’t what it appears to be. I wasn’t taking Sullivan to your—”

  “Shut up.”

  He looked so furious she couldn’t keep silent. “I didn’t betray you!”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I don’t want to hear your lies.” His mouth covered hers abruptly in a kiss that was rough, passionate, and deeply satisfying. She slipped her hands around his neck and pressed her body against his, responding with equal fervor, so relieved he’d come for her, thrilled by the intensity of his desire and the way his hand was caressing her backside, pushing her closer to him. But . . . he’d said she was lying? She had to make him understand.

  Pressing her hands against his shoulders, she shoved, and he stopped kissing her. When she looked up at his face, she was startled by the fierce anger in his eyes. She’d only seen it once before—the night she’d pointed the shotgun at him. “You’re mistaken—”

  “No, you made a mistake. You should have shown your true colors earlier. We could have had a lot more fun in the sack before you sold me out to Sullivan.”

  “That’s not true!” She struggled to put some distance between them, but Morgan held on to her. “I’m here to help—”

  They both froze at the sound of pistols cocking.

  “Let the lady go, or you’ll get more than one bullet in your back.”

  Violet gasped. Oh, God, three men were pointing pistols at them. Sullivan’s guards.

  Morgan released her. One guard immediately confiscated his Colt. Another approached her to ask, “Are you all right, miss?” She just nodded. The third man took the hobbles off Caesar before they began the trek back to Sullivan’s campsite, two of the guards flanking Morgan, holding their guns ready.

  As she walked, Violet couldn’t tell if she was shivering from the cold or trembling with fear for herself and Morgan. But she felt no relief when she saw the glow of the three campfires. Sullivan was standing by one of them. A guard ran ahead and spoke with him.

  “Well, well, Callahan, finally we meet again.” Sullivan was smiling. “But you show up in the middle of the night and try to abduct Miss Mitchell and do who knows what else? I’ll have to turn you over to the sheriff. You should be thrown in jail for attempting something that low.”

  “No, Sullivan, I just hate to see my dead partner’s daughter with scum like you. She doesn’t know anything. Let her go. You can deal with me now.”

  Sullivan laughed. “Too late. I don’t need you anymore. Miss Mitchell is going to show me where her father’s mine is located, and yours too, as I understand they’re right close to each other. In fact, I offered her a hundred thousand dollars for her mine, and she’s going to get her brothers’ approval to sell it to me.”

  Morgan snorted. “She might look like a lady, but she’s a viper and a liar. She doesn’t own that mine; it’s an invalid claim. She can’t sell it to you or anyone else. Besides, she doesn’t know where it is. She’s led you on a wild goose chase.”

  “I think you might be the one who’s lying.”

  Sullivan turned to Violet expectantly. She was horrified that she had to lie and act like the viper Morgan had just labeled her in order to preserve the rescue plan.

  “I do own the mine and I know exactly where it is,” she insisted. “He’s the one lying to you!”

  Morgan glowered at her before turning back to his nemesis. “Don’t get taken in, Sullivan. She might have spent some time in my camp driving me crazy, but she doesn’t know the exact location.”

  Sullivan smiled. “But you do.” And then he told his men, “Tie him up, and it better be as tight as if he were in a prison cell. He gets away and you’re all fired.” Yet he was smiling again at Morgan when he added, as if giving Morgan a choice, “Why don’t you spend the night with us and show us to the mine tomorrow morning?”

  “I saw you coming. There’s no way you’ll ever get your hands on those mines. I planted dynamite charges in them. You go near them and step in the wrong places, half the mountain will come down on you.”

  The guards looked a little worried, hearing that, but Sullivan didn’t. “Nice bluffing, Callahan. But you’ll take me there, and you’ll step in the right spots, otherwise Miss Mitchell could have a fatal accident. No one would be surprised if a gently reared lady fell off her horse and broke her neck riding up these rocky slopes.”

  Violet blanched. Morgan was gagged before he could respond. She stared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice because he was glaring daggers at Sullivan as the man walked away. One of the guards nudged Morgan pretty hard in the side with his boot, sneering, “There’s no need to wait till the morn.”

  “What do you think you’re doing, O’Donnell?” Shawn demanded as he walked back to the group.

  The guard stepped back, but wasn’t contrite. “I was thinking to get the answers you want.”

  “Beating him isn’t necessary, not when we have her. We can’t leave now in any case, no matter what he says, so he’s got the night to decide if the lass lives or not. That’s all the torture he needs. Miss Mitchell or his mine.”

  Oh, good Lord, what a choice to give Morgan when he was so angry at her! Violet did the only sensible thing she could think of at that point—she started screaming as loudly as she could and wasn’t going to stop. She ran around the camp, trying to evade Sullivan’s guards, who definitely wanted her to stop it. But the sound would travel far, especially in the stillness at night. If the sheriff was close enough to save them, he’d hear it. If not, she and Morgan would both die tomorrow.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  VIOLET WAS TACKLED BY two of the guards, who gagged her and tied her up for the night. They put her on a bedroll and tossed a blanket over her. She craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of Morgan, who lay behind her, which was a little too difficult to attempt more than a few times, and he wasn’t looking at her anyway. She so regretted not getting a chance to convince him that she hadn’t betrayed him. He obviously hadn’t believed her when she’d said it. And now she might never get another chance.

  When she awoke, dawn had come and gone. The sun hadn’t topped the ranges to the east yet, but the sky was bright with early morning light. Just one campfire was burning and a pot of coffee was boiling on a rack that had been placed over it. By rolling her body, she managed to sit up, and glanced over to where Morgan lay
, but couldn’t tell if his eyes were open yet. Her hands, which were tied behind her back, tingled uncomfortably.

  One of the guards poured cups of coffee for Sullivan and himself, but didn’t offer her one, so she had a feeling she wasn’t going to be untied today. Why would they bother when it was likely she’d have an “accident” later and end up in a shallow grave before day’s end?

  Violet was startled by the thunderous sound of hoofbeats. Sullivan looked alarmed as at least twenty men on horseback surrounded his camp.

  He grabbed the arm of one of his men and shoved him toward Violet. “Untie her immediately, and take off that gag!”

  But when the man took a step toward Violet, a bullet hit the dirt between them, changing his mind. Rifles were already aimed at Sullivan and his men.

  As the posse dismounted and started handcuffing Sullivan’s guards and collecting their weapons, Sullivan walked confidently over to a big, barrel-chested man who looked older than the others and remained seated on his horse. “You’re just the man I wanted to see, Sheriff Gibson. Callahan over here”—he gestured toward Morgan, who was still bound and gagged—“showed up last night and abducted Miss Mitchell. If my men hadn’t rescued her, good Lord, who knows what would have happened to her. Arrest that scoundrel immediately!”

  The sheriff tipped his wide-brimmed hat back and smiled down at Shawn. It wasn’t a friendly smile. “Save it for the judge, Mr. Sullivan. Imagine my surprise, if you can, when a dead man walked into my office yesterday, and quite a tale Charles Mitchell had to tell. Oh, and even better, your own housekeeper confirmed every word of it.”