Schulze, Dallas

by Gunfighter's Bride

  Bishop felt the jaws of the trap closing about him. He could still refuse, of course. He was master in his own house, wasn’t he? And he certainly didn’t have to go to church unless he chose to do so. He glanced at Gavin and caught the knowing look in his son’s eyes. Clearly, Gavin didn’t believe for a minute that his father gave a hoot in hell about setting a good example for his children. The boy was too damned old and too damned cynical for his age. Bishop’s jaw knotted with irritation as the trapped clanged shut over him.

  “I’ll change clothes,” he said.

  So here he was, sitting on a pew that felt as if it had been carved of solid granite, listening to a sermon intended to save his immoral soul, as Angel had put it, and he still wasn’t quite sure how he’d come to be here. Worse, he had the feeling that, by coming to church today, he’d set a precedent of some kind and that he’d be expected to spend every Sunday morning in church, courting entrance to heaven.

  He glanced at Lila and the children, who were seated to his left. Angel sat next to him, her hands clasped in her lap, her small face still as she listened to the minister’s words. Gavin was on her other side. Though his expression was as still and calm as his sister’s, Bishop could feel the restlessness in the boy. When he was Gavin’s age, he’d have thought it a sad waste of a nice spring day to be spending it inside a church. His mouth curved in a sympathetic half smile before his gaze shifted to Lila, who was seated on Gavin’s other side.

  Bishop’s smile faded, his breath almost catching in his throat at the sheer beauty of her. A sunbeam had found its way through one of the narrow windows that perched high up on the church walls. Where the light fell across her hair it seemed to catch fire. In contrast, her profile was as pure and graceful as an ivory cameo. Wearing an elegant dress of deep-gold silk, her hands neatly clasped around a prayer book, her green eyes intent on the minister, she looked untouched and untouchable. Only the sensual fullness of her mouth belied the purity of the image.

  Bishop thought suddenly of the last time he’d been in a church, the day he’d stopped Lila’s wedding. She’d looked exquisite that day, also. The cobweb-fine lace veil had skimmed over her fiery hair, falling almost to the floor, a fragile frame for her slender body. Clad all in white, she’d looked as pure and virginal as a nun. For a moment, he’d thought that Susan’s letter had been wrong, that his own memory was mistaken. He couldn’t possibly have touched this woman, have held her in his arms and felt her come apart with pleasure beneath him. But then he’d seen the remembrance in her eyes, the guilty knowledge— and the plea that he not do anything to tumble her world into chaos.

  There had been an instant, hardly more than a heartbeat, when he’d considered turning and walking away—out of the church, out of her life. But even as the thought occurred to him, it had been drowned out by a wave of possessiveness so powerful that it had been a knife in his gut. She was his. He’d been the one to feel the fragile surrender of her maidenhead; it was his child she carried within her. She was his by right and he had to claim her. Looking at her now, he knew that he’d make the same choices again. No matter what the cost, now or in the future, he had to have her.

  Discomfited by the intensity of his own thoughts, Bishop was relieved to realize that the service had come to an end. He rose with the rest of the congregation, aware of the attention he was attracting. Most of the glances were simply curious—after all, it was the first time the citizens of Paris had seen their sheriff set foot inside the church—but a few of the looks coming his way held more than a touch of indignation, and he knew the Lord would be taken severely to task by some for not striking him down with a bolt of lightning the moment he dared set foot on hallowed ground. After all, everyone knew he’d broken more than his fair share of the Lord’s rules, starting with thou shalt not kill. And would probably do as much again, if it came right down to it. The fact that the town had hired him precisely because of his skill with a gun was not excuse enough, according to some.

  Bishop’s shoulders shifted uneasily. He didn’t give a tinker’s damn what the townspeople thought of his sudden religious leanings, but he’d never much cared for finding himself the center of attention. He was more comfortable staying in the shadows. He was startled to feel Angel slipping her hand into his. Glancing down at her, he saw her giving him a concerned look, as if she’d picked up on his uneasiness and was trying to reassure him. The idea of her trying to reassure him startled a smile out of Bishop that surprised several people who thought they knew him.

  Progress down the aisle was slowed by the necessity of everyone stopping to greet the minister, who stood on the step outside the doors. Bishop watched as Joseph pressed Lila’s hand between his, his face lighting in a smile. His liking for her was plain to read. It seemed that, in the short time she’d been in Paris, she’d made more of a place for herself than he had in all the months that had gone before.

  Joseph shook hands with Gavin, who looked as uncomfortable as his father felt and then leaned down to say hello to Angel, who returned his greeting with such adult composure that it was hard to remember how young she was. Then Bishop was face to face with the minister.

  “It’s good to see you, Bishop,” Joseph said as they shook hands.

  “And you, Joseph.” He could say that honestly enough. He liked Joseph Sunday. It was the man’s profession that caused him a bit of uneasiness.

  “I believe this is the first time you’ve joined us.”

  “I’ve never been much of a churchgoer,” Bishop admitted uncomfortably.

  “Your wife is a strong-willed woman,” Joseph said, his eyes twinkling with laughter. Obviously, he was under no illusions about Bishop’s religious leanings.

  Bishop glanced to where Lila stood talking to some other women. When he looked back at Joseph, his expression was rueful. “That she is.”

  ***

  Lila saw Sara Smythe making a beeline for her across the church yard. A quick glance around told her that there was no graceful escape route open. Bishop had been waylaid by Clem Lyman. The two of them stood talking near the church steps. She could hardly leave without him. Besides, living in a small town, her path was bound to cross Sara’s regularly. She could hardly make it a habit to run every time she saw the other woman. Forcing a welcoming smile, she moved forward, taking Gavin and Angel with her.

  “Sara, how nice to see you. And what a lovely dress.”

  “Thank you.” Sara glanced down at her deep-blue silk gown with its discreet pleated trim and touches of lace at collar and cuffs. The simple style suited her ample figure. A glance at Lila’s elegant gold silk gown, softly draped across the front and trimmed with a row of jet buttons, made her mouth tighten. “I think restraint in dress is the hallmark of a true lady, don’t you?”

  Lila wondered if she was being subtly accused of flashy dress. “I believe I’d put kindness and good manners ahead of dress,” she commented.

  “But the way one dresses is a reflection of one’s true nature,” Sara stated in a tone that brooked no argument,

  “It seems to me it’s more frequently a reflection of the contents of one’s purse.”

  Sara’s mouth tightened and her dark eyes flashed with irritation but she allowed the subject to drop. “I was quite surprised to see your husband here,” she said, glancing to where Bishop stood talking to Clem Lyman.

  “Were you?” Lila raised her brows in question. She followed Sara’s eyes and saw that a couple of other men had joined them. She wondered if it was her imagination that Bishop looked surprised and a little uneasy to find himself a part of the small group.

  “Well, he hasn’t exactly been a regular member of the congregation,” Sara said with delicate sarcasm. “In fact, I believe this is the first time he’s attended a service at all.”

  “Really?” Lila laughed indulgently. She would have given a great deal to be able to wipe that smirk off Sara’s face, preferably with the flat of her hand. She reached down to twitch one of the ribbons that held Angel’s fla
xen hair in place. “You know how bachelors are. They’re inclined to be careless about such things. Obviously, now that he has a family to consider, things have changed. I’m sure you can understand his concern that his children have a proper upbringing.”

  “Naturally.” Sara cast a fond look at William who stood off to the side, talking to Gavin and young Joseph. “Nothing is more important than making sure one’s children receive the proper guidance when it comes to the Lord’s teachings. Still, I can’t deny that I’m more than a bit surprised by his presence at the services today.”

  “Whose presence surprised you?” Bridget asked as she joined them. Dot Lyman was with her.

  “Sheriff McKenzie’s,” Sara said. “I was surprised, as I’m sure we all were, to see him attend the services.”

  Dot’s head nodded in agreement, just as it always did whenever Sara made a pronouncement.

  Bridget shook her head in disagreement. “If you mean because he hasn’t been before, you should have taken into account that the man has a family to consider now. He’d be wanting to set an example for his children, of course.”

  Lila could have hugged her right then and there. She barely restrained the urge to shoot a childish look of triumph at Sara. “So I was just saying.”

  “Children or no, one doesn’t expect to find a man of his profession attending church.”

  “Why not?” Lila’s brows shot up. “It seems to me a lawman has more need than most to speak to the Lord.”

  “I didn’t mean the position he currently holds,” Sara said in a repressive tone.

  “She means because he’s a gunfighter,” Dot explained when Lila continued to look blank.

  “A gunfighter?” Lila arched one brow. Bishop? She’d heard the rumors, of course. When he attended Douglas and Susan’s wedding, there had been a great deal of talk. Several people had claimed that Bishop McKenzie was a famous gunfighter. She’d dismissed the rumors then and she dismissed them now. People were inclined to foolish exaggeration. Before she could say as much, Bishop and Clem Lyman joined them.

  Bishop set his hand against the small of her back. The casually possessive gesture sent a not-unpleasant shiver up Lila’s spine, a tingle of awareness that she would have given a great deal not to feel.

  “Ladies.” Clem’s greeting included all of them. “I’m sorry to have to break up your pleasant gathering, but Dot and I have to get back to the hotel. We’ve guests today.”

  “It’s a sin to work on the Sabbath,” Sara pronounced, her disapproval plain.

  “I’m afraid our guests would consider it more of a sin if we let them go hungry,” Clem said, his good cheer undented.

  “I’ve no doubt the Lord understands that an innkeeper can’t take a day of relaxation like the rest of us,” Bridget said. Her hazel eyes dared Sara to disagree, and Lila was amused to see the other woman back down.

  Before Clem and Dot could take their leave, the small group was expanded by the arrival of Frank Smythe and Joseph Sunday. Greetings were exchanged, there were several compliments given on the service, Clem mentioned the possibility of rain before nightfall, and Dot said that Mr. Fitch had told her he was getting a new shipment of dress goods in all the way from St. Louis.

  There was a lull in the conversation, broken by Bishop. “If you’ll excuse us, I’ve things to see to. The Lord will have to add lawmen to the list of those who work on the Sabbath,” he said, with a bland look in Sara’s direction. The pinched line of her mouth was her only response.

  Franklin Smythe cleared his throat. “Before you go, Sheriff, I had a letter from an associate of mine in Santa Fe a few days ago. He made mention of something I thought might be of interest to you.” “What was that?” Bishop’s voice came from behind Lila. His fingers shifted against her back and she had to control a shiver of awareness.

  “He mentioned that Dobe Lang has been asking around about you.”

  “Has he?” Bishop’s tone was casual but Lila felt the sudden tension in him and knew he wasn’t as indifferent to the banker’s words as he sounded.

  The other man cleared his throat again. “I... ah ... thought you’d like to know Lang was interested in your whereabouts.”

  “Thank you.” Again, Bishop’s tone expressed only mild interest, but Lila knew she wasn’t imagining the change in him. And it wasn’t just Bishop. The mood of the small gathering seemed to have taken a grim shift.

  “Who is Dobe Lang?” she asked. She turned her head to look at her husband. “And why would he be asking about you?”

  “He’s no one important,” Bishop said, his eyes cool blue and empty of emotion. “He’s rumored to have robbed a few banks but he’s never been caught.”

  “They say he’s faster than greased lightning.” William’s voice was high with excitement. The adults turned to look at him, unaware until that moment that he and Gavin and young Joseph had joined them. “They say he’s killed better’n a hundred men and that he’s faster’n greased lightning when he draws his gun. He’s supposed to—”

  “William!” Sara’s shocked tone cut off her son’s recitation of the skills of Dobe Lang. “Where on earth do you hear such things?”

  “I read about them in the paper. I read about you, too, Sheriff,” he told Bishop, his dark eyes bright with excitement.

  “I wouldn’t believe everything you read in the paper,” Bishop said lightly. But the hand against Lila’s back was stiff with tension.

  “They say you was faster with a gun than anybody. They said you killed Augie Lang in a fair fight and then paid for his funeral. That’s why Dobe Lang is looking for you, isn’t it? ’Cause you’re the one that shot his brother. They said you was cool as a cucumber about the whole thing, as if it was all in a day’s work and didn’t bother you a bit.”

  A taut little silence fell in the wake of his words. The people around them were staring at William with varying expressions of surprise, dismay, and, in the case of his mother, outright horror. There was no mistaking the worshipful expression in the boy’s eyes. Clearly, he was smitten by a severe case of hero worship and his only intention was to flatter the object of his worship. Behind her, Lila could feel Bishop’s rigidity as he stood next to her.

  “Really, William, I—” Sara’s sharp tone was drowned out by Bishop’s quiet voice.

  “Let me tell you something,” he said, leaning forward to pin William with a brilliant blue gaze. “The day it doesn’t bother you to take another man’s life is the day you stop being human. And anyone who says otherwise is a damned fool.”

  Such was the power of his quiet words that no one even thought to offer a protest at his use of strong language when ladies were present. Lila felt a chill go down her spine. For a moment, it seemed as if a cloud had drifted across the sun, stealing the brightness of the spring day.

  “I won’t hear any more talk about killing,” Sara said, breaking the stillness that had gripped them all. She gave Bishop a look that placed the blame for the turn the conversation had taken squarely on his shoulders. “Such a discussion on the Sabbath and standing in the church yard! I’ll speak my mind frankly and say that I never did approve of hiring a man of your reputation, Mr. McKenzie. Now see what’s come of it. Gunfighters descending on our quiet town and children talking of killing as if it were a game.”

  “If Paris was a quiet town, we wouldn’t have had need of Sheriff McKenzie’s talents,” her husband reminded her.

  “You have to admit that things have been much quieter since he’s been here,” Dot said, unexpectedly coming to Bishop’s defense. “Why, there hasn’t been a single killing in almost two months!”

  “I still say that trouble attracts trouble,” Sara said adamantly. “No offense meant, Mr. McKenzie.”

  “None taken, Mrs. Smythe.” Bishop tilted his head, his face completely expressionless.

  “Mark my words, no good will come of it. Come along, William. Franklin.” The Smythes departed with a look of disapproval from Sara, vague apology from her husband, and pur
e hero worship from William.

  The Lymans said hasty farewells and disappeared in their wake, leaving a pregnant silence behind them.

  “I know it’s the Sabbath and I shouldn’t be havin’ such uncharitable thoughts,” Bridget said, her Irish accent thickening a little with emotion. “But I don’t believe I’ve ever met a woman more in need of a good, solid kick in the—” She broke off, glancing at Angel, Gavin, and Joseph, who were all listening with unconcealed interest. “—conscience,” she finished stiffly.

  “I believe you’ll have to take your place behind me,” Lila said tightly. Really, the nerve of that woman, criticizing her husband.

  She was so intent on glaring after Sara that she missed the startled look Bishop shot at her. If it wasn’t such a foolish idea, he’d have said she was angry on his behalf. He rolled the idea over in his mind, only half hearing Joseph’s reminder that forgiveness and tolerance were good, Christian traits.

  Bishop couldn’t remember the last time someone had felt the need to defend him. Certainly no one had done so since he reached adulthood. The idea that Lila might feel he was in need of defense was ludicrous. She didn’t even like him, for God’s sake. Still, the thought lingered in the back of his mind, reminding him that marriage was a great deal more complicated than he’d ever imagined.

  Neither of them noticed Gavin giving his father a thoughtful look. Seeing the blatant hero worship in his friend’s eyes had made him see Bishop in a new way, as someone with an identity completely apart from his family.

  CHAPTER 16

  Since there was no formal school in Paris—teachers being in short supply west of the Mississippi—Gavin joined the lessons Joseph Sunday taught his own children. With Gavin gone a few hours each day, Lila was left with only Angel to care for. The little girl was remarkably self-sufficient for her age, content to play by herself if she had no other companionship.