Shotgun Marriage (Leadville, Co. Book 3)

by Danica Favorite

  Emma Jane’s face screwed into an expression he couldn’t read. For a moment, he thought she might start crying, but instead, she just stood there, looking like...

  Like she did on their wedding day.

  She hadn’t wanted to marry him any more than he’d wanted to marry her. And now she was a pawn in some sick criminal’s game, when all she’d wanted was to help others.

  “What do you want me to write?”

  He shouldn’t have caved so easily, but as Emma Jane’s posture relaxed, he knew it was the right decision, at least for her peace of mind.

  Rex handed him a piece of paper. “And don’t think I won’t know if you’re trying to trick me. I can read and write just as well as any of those uppity teachers in the school.”

  He gave Jasper pen and ink. “The only thing keeping you alive is your cooperation. That and Jimmy’s squeamishness. He might not want to leave a trail of dead bodies, but make no mistake. I will shoot you dead if I have to. And if that means killing Jimmy, I’ll do that, too.” Rex’s smile as he spoke verified the rumors Jasper had heard.

  Rex liked killing. Chills pricked the back of Jasper’s neck.

  Did Emma Jane understand now how lethal these men were?

  He looked at her for signs of having understood the import of Rex’s words, but she was seemingly unaware, having opened her Bible and was now engrossed in its pages. Hands flexing at his sides, he strained to keep his temper in check. Maybe it wasn’t right to be mad at her for it, but it seemed wrong that while he was trying to keep them alive, she seemed more interested in her Bible.

  What was the Bible going to do for them? It wasn’t as though God was going to reach down from Heaven to save them from these evil men. No, it was up to Jasper to find a way to get them out of this situation—before the gang decided they were no longer useful.

  He picked up the pen and began writing the words Rex dictated. For now, he’d play the game and pretend to be just as agreeable as Emma Jane. But he’d be watching—and waiting. And he would find a way to save them both.

  Chapter Ten

  Emma Jane tried focusing on the words of the Psalms. David knew what it was like to be pursued by an enemy with greater might and power than his own. Surely God would give them a way out. If Jasper’s stubbornness didn’t get them killed first.

  The baby started to cry. Again. Emma Jane sighed. If only Daisy would wake up and give her some idea as to how to take care of her son. At first, giving him the milk and some love had seemed to turn a baby who never stopped crying into a peaceful little thing. But now, all he seemed to do was cry, with a few moments of respite here and there.

  She put her Bible down and went to pick up the baby. Fortunately, he always calmed down a little in her arms. His wails turned into whimpers, and she cradled him close as she went back to her chair to focus on her Bible again.

  The bandits had gone outside, but the occasional shadows passing the window told Emma Jane that they were still standing guard. Jasper had tried the door once but found it locked tight.

  Now he was pacing, walking the length of the cabin and back again. She should be grateful he didn’t appear to have any ill effects from the injury to his head, but right now, he was making her crazy.

  His pacing, the baby’s whimpering and Daisy’s ragged breathing—it was enough to send a woman to Bedlam.

  “Please, Jasper. Can you sit and rest? You don’t want to have a relapse.”

  Selfishly, she’d admit that any concern over his health was secondary to her own need for peace.

  “I don’t like being locked up like an animal.”

  “We don’t have much of a choice in the matter, so you might as well make the best of it.”

  She didn’t mean to sound so shrewish, but really...

  “You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

  Jerking her chin in his direction, she gave him a defiant look. Jasper’s words sounded almost like an insult. But he didn’t understand that, for most people, it was the only way to survive.

  “Yes, I am. I’ve found that most of the circumstances of my life have been foisted upon me and are not of my choosing. But I can choose how I respond to them.”

  Emma Jane took a deep breath. “In the past, I haven’t always done such a good job of that. Sometimes I am almost ashamed of how badly I’ve reacted in difficult situations. But I’ve learned that such behavior never makes things better.”

  The baby had started to drift off to sleep. She looked down at him and wondered what choices he would have in this world. Born of a notorious criminal and a woman of the night, he would never live the kind of respectable life Emma Jane had. And her level of respectability had been marginal at best. All she’d ever wanted was respectability, and yet here she held an infant whose chances of attaining it were much more miniscule than her own.

  “But don’t you want things to be different?” Jasper’s voice sounded almost hoarse, like he was trying to contain emotions and not quite succeeding.

  He was referring, of course, to their marriage. Contrary to popular belief, Emma Jane wasn’t stupid. He didn’t want their marriage any more than she had. All right. He’d wanted their marriage even less than she had. After all, Emma Jane had already accepted that her fate would not involve a love match.

  Still, she had hoped that, in some way, the man she married would at least want her.

  “Of course I want things to be different. But they are what they are, so why would I waste my time wishing for things that aren’t possible?”

  “Or you could make them what you want to be.” His words were quiet as he sank into a chair by the fire.

  What was he saying? How did you make a marriage what you wanted it to be when neither of you wanted the marriage? Or was he suggesting they end it?

  “Or you make the best of what you have.” She looked at him squarely, challenging him. Making lemonade out of lemons was something Emma Jane had become quite good at. Not just in her life circumstances, but even in turning someone else’s cast-off dress into something beautiful. Everyone had said her sister, Gracie, was one of the finest dressed young ladies in town.

  No one realized that it had been Emma Jane’s skill that had accomplished that goal.

  Even now, as she cared for this tiny baby with few supplies, she’d made do, and while things weren’t perfect, the baby seemed content enough.

  She pulled her chair closer to Daisy. “Do you think she can hear us?”

  “You’re avoiding the conversation.”

  “What conversation?” Emma Jane didn’t look at him, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Just as with the bandits, he seemed to be deliberately trying to bait her.

  “About you.”

  “Me?” This time she did look at him. “Are you trying to provoke some sort of disagreement? I don’t know what else you want to hear from me. I’ve told you that I believe in making the best of things. I’m not sure what else there is to discuss on the matter.”

  His eyes darkened, and his expression lay hidden by the shadows, which seemed to have deepened since he sat down.

  “I’m trying to understand.”

  Though his words seemed to be in earnest, there seemed to be something else beneath the surface. Something Emma Jane wasn’t sure she wanted to explore.

  “Then please accept my need to make the best of things. We don’t have a choice in being here. I could just as easily play the hysterical woman at being kidnapped. I’ve played that part before, and it did me no good. At least in this situation, I can feel like I’m doing something useful, and I have a distraction to keep my mind off the thing I fear the most.”

  “And what do you fear the most?”

  Emma Jane swallowed. “Dying, of course. I have so much I want to do in my life, and I...”

  She l
ooked down at the baby. “I don’t want to leave this earth without having experienced some of the joys I’ve been longing for.”

  Truthfully, as the infant snuggled against her, she had to admit that caring for this child was one of those joys. She’d always hoped for a baby of her own, yet the longer she had this precious little boy with her, the more he seemed like her own.

  What was she going to do when Daisy got better?

  “What joys?” Jasper’s stare felt so heavy on her she couldn’t bear to look up.

  She didn’t have an answer for him. After all, most of the things she wanted seemed too impossible to even give voice. Love, happiness—those were ideas she had to find a way to let go of. But the warm bundle in her arms forced one word out of her mouth.

  “Family.”

  “I want that, too,” Jasper said gruffly.

  Her head snapped up and she stared at him. “You said ours would be a marriage in name only.”

  “We could discuss...”

  Jasper shifted as though the idea made him just as uncomfortable as it made her. No, worse. It seemed as though he was suggesting something completely intolerable to him, but he’d be willing to do it for the greater good.

  “No. I’m perfectly aware of what having a family would take. And I can’t do...that...without love.”

  Emma Jane could feel the heat on her face rise. Proper ladies didn’t speak of such things. But a gentleman would never suggest them, either. She closed her eyes. Except, of course, if they were husband and wife. Which she and Jasper technically were.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just thought, since we both wanted the same thing, we could find a way to compromise.”

  Finally finding the courage to look at him, Emma Jane opened her eyes. “I can’t compromise on that.”

  She looked down at Daisy, whose breathing had grown more ragged. “It seems to me that a woman who compromises on those issues is no better than the women of her profession.”

  Smoothing Daisy’s hair off her feverish brow, she examined the woman’s features. Though probably younger than Emma Jane, Daisy’s face was marked with years of rough living. “I mean no disrespect to Daisy, because I’m sure she did the best she could do.”

  Emma Jane brought her attention back to Jasper. “I’ve sacrificed enough in my life. There are some things I can cling to, and this is one of them. If you insist on fully being my husband, I won’t fight you. But I hope you respect my desire to have at least that one choice belong to me.”

  “I would never force a woman in that regard. Like you, I believe such an act should be one of love.” She couldn’t read his expression in the firelight, but his tone was unmistakable. She’d offended him—deeply.

  “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to suggest that you would. I was only trying...”

  “Don’t. I was wrong to bring it up,” he said curtly. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation. I’m sorry. Go back to your Bible, and I’ll...” He shrugged. “Well, I’ll do whatever I have to do. And we’ll try not to infringe on each other’s space too much.”

  Emma Jane didn’t bother trying to respond. Jasper was right. It was the wrong conversation for them to be having, especially now in light of their current predicament. She sighed. Besides, talking about it only emphasized the fact that neither of them loved each other. Clearly, Jasper wasn’t even attracted to her, given his penchant for kissing the other girls in town, and the fact that he hadn’t even tried once with Emma Jane.

  Oh, if only she hadn’t had that silly dream of him kissing her in the mine. If only the feel of his lips against hers wasn’t so deeply embedded in her memory.

  But that wasn’t love. Desire, maybe. Curiosity, certainly. But love? Love was an emotion she dared not even wish for, especially when it came to Jasper Jackson.

  Daisy made a heaving sound, like she was struggling to breathe.

  Her face was the color of day-old ashes, and as much as Emma Jane hated to admit it, there was little she could do for the other woman. She’d only seen one other person die, the Widow Sanders, who Emma Jane had briefly taken care of so her family could have extra money during one of her father’s bad spells. Eugene Sanders had been a family friend, and he’d offered her father a goodly sum if only Emma Jane would sit with his elderly mother and make her last days peaceful.

  Daisy had the look of Widow Sanders about her. So close to being claimed by death, yet desperately trying to cling to life. Fighting, not so much because she had it in her to live, but because she had so much unfinished business on earth.

  Widow Sanders had been hanging on to the hope that her estranged daughter would come home. It was not until Emma Jane herself had whispered, “I love you. I forgive you,” that she’d finally slipped into the beyond. Her words hadn’t been a lie—she’d relied on the grace and peace of Christ to give a dying woman the comfort she’d needed. The daughter only came for the reading of the will, to take her thousand-dollar inheritance, then leave.

  What comfort could Emma Jane give Daisy in these last hours? She’d been worshipping silently, but now, when she opened her Bible, she began to read aloud. Widow Sanders had taken great comfort in Emma Jane’s Bible reading. During her brief awakenings, she’d told Emma Jane as such. She’d even confessed to Emma Jane her worries about God not wanting her after all she’d done in her life. But when Emma Jane spoke to her of God’s forgiveness and love, Widow Sanders had appeared to take comfort.

  Emma Jane read, noticing that the squeak of Jasper’s footsteps against the floor had quieted. Even the baby had finally ceased fussing and had drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  She looked up at him, pausing in her recitation.

  “Don’t. I find your voice soothing.” Jasper had settled into one of the chairs at the table and was watching her.

  Emma Jane felt her face heat. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.” She turned her attention back to her Bible.

  “I was giving you a compliment. It’s traditional to say thank-you when someone gives you a compliment.”

  His voice had taken on a teasing note, but Emma Jane found it unsettling. She’d seen him jest many a young lady, to be sure. He’d just never really done so with her. Why would he, when everyone knew that teasing was a form of flirting?

  “Thank you,” Emma Jane mumbled, not wanting to pursue the subject further.

  She began to read again. Daisy’s breathing caught, stopped, then just when Emma Jane thought it had been the other woman’s last, she took another labored breath.

  The poor woman was hanging on so tightly.

  Lord, please, I’ve seen death before, and I know this woman is close. If it is Your will to save her, then save her. But if she is to pass, tell me what I need to ease her transition into the hereafter.

  The baby gave a small whimper. Of course! What mother would willingly leave this earth with such a small child with no one to care for him?

  “I’ll care for your baby like he was my own,” whispered Emma Jane, squeezing Daisy’s hand. As she made the promise, she felt the love swell up in her heart for the baby. Oh, she already loved him, there was no question of that, but this was an additional measure, the kind a mother felt for a child. And, as she recalled, the love Pastor Lassiter spoke of as the kind that came from the Lord. She’d sought this love for her mother-in-law, but as the infant lay in Emma Jane’s arms, she knew the Lord had reserved it for her to give to this innocent child.

  Daisy gave one last shuddering breath, then was still. A tear rolled down Emma Jane’s cheek as she realized the other woman was gone.

  Emma Jane looked down at the baby. “I still don’t know your name, little one. But it seems to me with no one left to tell me, I’m going to have to give you one myself.”

  The baby looked up at her, his dark blue eyes warm and trusting. As the son
of a fallen woman, he had no hope, no future. But as the son of Emma Jane Jackson, wife of one of the wealthiest men in Leadville, he would have everything.

  She recalled the story of Moses, how his mother had given him up to be raised by the pharaoh’s daughter. Her sacrifice had given him a chance at life.

  “Moses,” she said softly, stroking the boy’s hair. “I will call you Moses. Because, like your namesake, you are being given a great opportunity at life, and I pray you will do great things with that opportunity.”

  * * *

  Jasper wasn’t surprised when Emma Jane informed him of Daisy’s passing. The woman’s labored breathing had told him she didn’t have much time left. He’d tried telling himself otherwise, but he’d known.

  What good had his mission to save her done?

  He’d failed Mel. The woman had died, taking a bullet for him, and all she’d wanted, her whole reason for living, had been to give Daisy a good life.

  And now her sister was dead.

  He didn’t even know what illness had befallen Daisy, but surely, had he gotten to her sooner, maybe she wouldn’t have needed to die. If only he’d been able to get her to a doctor.

  Jasper looked over at Emma Jane, who sat in the rocking chair, quietly reading her Bible to the baby. She’d pulled the blanket over Daisy’s face, but having a dead woman in the room with them still felt wrong.

  Frustration knotted his gut.

  All of it was wrong. Daisy dying. Being locked in this old cabin. A baby who’d started wailing again. Emma Jane, trying to console the poor child.

  The door opened, and Ace Perry, Ben’s older brother, walked in. Now the pieces of the puzzle fit together.

  “I thought you said that milk you got would shut the brat up.”

  Mack, who’d followed him in, shrugged. “Maybe babies don’t like goat milk. Was the best I could do, getting a goat from that farm. Don’t reckon I’ve seen any cows around.”

  Emma Jane started to approach them, and Jasper bit back a groan. Was she ever going to learn? Why didn’t she trust him to take care of things?