by Karen Kirst
Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he kissed her cheek. Before he could haul her into his arms for a reassuring hug, he descended the steps and went to say goodbye to Jane and Abigail.
Patting their heads, he said, “Mind your ma, you hear? And take care of your bunny.”
“We named him Sheriff.” Jane grinned.
“After you,” Abigail piped up, the adoration on her face making his eyes wet.
He left before he could make a fool of himself.
* * *
A thump outside the door an hour later made Grace’s heart stutter. Noah’s rifle hung in its spot above the fireplace. She should’ve asked him to teach her how to use it, but she hadn’t felt this sense of impending danger before.
Be honest. You relied on him to protect you when you should’ve been relying on yourself. You’ll have no one else around once you leave Cowboy Creek.
“Girls, go into the bedroom and stay there until I tell you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Moments later, a succinct rap rattled the wood. Grace snatched the largest knife and, hiding it in the folds of her skirt, prayed for protection.
Through the curtains, she could make out a wagon. She didn’t recognize the man on the seat. With blood rushing in her ears, she pressed her cheek against the door. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” The feminine voice filtered through. “Pippa.”
Sagging with relief, she replaced the knife and rushed to let her in. “I’m so glad it’s you,” she cried, embracing the other woman.
After a moment’s hesitation, Pippa returned the hug. “Are you all right?”
Embarrassed, Grace released her. “Sorry to ambush you like that. It’s just...” Pressing her hands against her cold cheeks, she continued, “With the men hunting down this gang, I suppose I’m more sensitive than usual.”
Pippa instructed the driver to wait for her, and that she’d pay him for his time. He nodded his acquiescence. Closing the door behind her, she walked to the fireplace, her aquamarine dress swishing as she moved. Unpinning her hat, she laid it on the mantel.
“Gideon is with them. I’m as worried as you are.” Her hazel gaze roamed Grace’s face. “I suppose you have added burdens on your mind, what with the current rumors swirling around town.”
Grace sank into the nearest chair, relieved the bedroom door was closed. Shielding the girls from the tales about her and Noah was another reason to start over elsewhere. The prospect of leaving Cowboy Creek was a daunting one, especially as they’d be heading into the unknown to live among utter strangers. The prospect of staying here, however, was even more unsettling.
Pippa joined her, taking the seat opposite and folding her gloved hands atop the surface of the table. “I, for one, happen to think kissing in the midst of a rain shower is quite romantic.” She gave her a half smile full of sympathy. “Are you still convinced he doesn’t care about you?”
“He doesn’t love me, I know that much.” It grieved her to admit it aloud. “He said our only recourse now is to get married. You should’ve heard him, Pippa. He sounded as thrilled about marrying me as he would about putting down his favorite horse.”
“I’m sure he’s simply weighing the gravity of the situation.” She cocked her head to one side. “You were willing to marry for other reasons besides love. Why is it different with Noah?”
“Because I can’t stand the idea of living with him, day after day, knowing he never wanted me. Oh, he’d be polite. Solicitous. He’s too good of a man to be anything less. But it would slowly destroy me...knowing I was the cause of his unhappiness.”
And living a lie. Don’t forget that.
Pippa covered Grace’s hand with hers. “I understand. I do.” Sagging against the chair rungs, she frowned. “I’ve come to realize I have feelings for Gideon. As he hasn’t declared himself or given me the slightest hint about his intentions, I’m in the dark, the same as you.”
“Gideon’s different,” Grace argued. “He’s clearly besotted with you. I think perhaps he’s holding part of himself back because he sees how much you love this town.”
“I’ll be honest. I do love Cowboy Creek and all the wonderful friends I’ve made. But I’d leave it behind for him.” Sadness dimmed the sparkle in her eyes. “I don’t think he’s going to even ask.”
“Maybe you should tell him. Take a risk.”
“Maybe we should both take a risk,” she murmured. “See what happens.”
Standing and crossing to the kitchen window with a memorable view of the prairie, Grace blinked away tears. “I’m leaving Cowboy Creek, Pippa. I won’t submit Noah to a lifetime of misery and regret.”
“Are you certain that’s the best course?”
“It’s the only course.” Moving to the counter, Grace drummed up a smile. “Thank you for your friendship, Pippa. It’s meant a lot to me.”
“Aw, don’t do that,” she exclaimed, swiping beneath her eyes. “Don’t make me cry!”
“When we get settled in our new home, I’ll write to you. Who knows, you may not be here by then. You may be traveling the country with your dashing young man, experiencing grand adventures you can tell your grandchildren someday.”
“Here’s my prayer, Constance Miller—I pray that, despite the prairie-size obstacles standing in our way, you and I both get our happy-ever-afters. And that our friendship will continue until we’re old and gray.”
“That sounds like a lovely prayer.”
While Pippa deserved her happy ending with Gideon, Grace didn’t have faith that she’d get one with Noah.
Chapter Twenty-One
Three miles outside town, Noah and the others discovered a hideout—just not the one Xavier had described. Tucked amid a small copse, a ragged canvas tent had provided someone shelter. And recently, too, if the pile of chicken bones with hunks of roasted meat still clinging to them was anything to go by.
He, Gideon and Deputy Hanley dismounted to survey the site while the remaining men scouted out the land around it on horseback.
“You think Xavier lied?” Hanley crouched to pick up a chipped coffee mug.
“No.” Noah’s investigation into the Murdochs’ past had yielded valuable information that worked for his purposes. Everyone had roots. A family. Fortunately for him, Xavier actually cared about their younger sibling enough to want to protect her. “Zeb has at least half a dozen men with him. Looks to me like one, maybe two people have been hiding out here.”
Gideon emerged from the tent with a plain wool blanket wrapped about a leather satchel. “Noah, you’ll want to see this.”
Letting the blanket slip to the ground, Noah set the satchel at his feet and opened it. The title on the topmost document had him setting back on his haunches. “These are the missing deeds. The authentic ones.”
Gideon and Hanley crowded around. Noah lifted the stack out. “Amos Goodwin’s deed to the boot-maker shop.” He handed it up for them to inspect. “Wade Claxton’s claim to the saddle shop.” Rifling through the paperwork, he found all ten deeds.
“I don’t understand.” Gideon looked around. “What do these deeds have to do with a gang of outlaws? Doesn’t make sense.”
After carefully replacing the satchel’s contents, Noah stored it in his saddlebags. “We’ve assumed for some time that the Murdochs weren’t involved with the attempts to sabotage our town. What would they stand to gain by poisoning cattle, burning lumber and replacing real deeds with forgeries?”
Gideon stroked his goatee. “You’re saying that whoever’s behind all that isn’t affiliated with the gang?”
“Could be someone’s out to stir up trouble simply for kicks. Or there’s a more sinister motive.” Nudging the smoldering ash with his boot, Noah blinked as a small gold piece slipped free. With his gloves protecting his
hands, he picked it up and brushed the soot away.
Hanley peeked over his shoulder. “Now, why does that look familiar, boss?”
“Because.” Turning it this way and that, he said, “It belongs to Prudence Haywood.”
Everyone had thought her brooch had been stolen during the church service along with the other jewelry. Turned out, she’d hidden it, risking the Murdochs’ ire and retaliation. According to D.B., the piece held sentimental value for her.
He looked over to find Gideon pulling a scrap of burned material from the ash. Dusting it off he held it out to Noah. “Recognize this?”
“Looks like the fabric of a woman’s dress.”
“You think the widow was staying out here?” Hanley sounded incredulous.
The tree limbs swayed as a light breeze tumbled across the prairie. Fat, misshapen clouds created large shadows on the fields. The men rode in ever-expanding circles, examining the tall grass for clues.
“According to Aunt Mae, Mrs. Haywood hasn’t stayed in her room at the boardinghouse in over a week. D.B. told us she left yesterday on the train. So either the editor is lying to cover for his assistant, or she led him to believe she left.”
“The bank was robbed by two people,” Hanley said slowly. “We assumed Zeb and Xavier were responsible. What if we were wrong?”
Frustration fired through him. When the brothers had robbed the church parishioners, they hadn’t acted alone. Didn’t make sense that they’d change their pattern for a bank heist. Quincy Davis had been shot during the bank robbery. If Prudence was involved, she was a corrupt individual. And she had a partner working with her. Someone equally as dangerous.
Was it D. B. Burrows? If so, what did he have to gain by wreaking havoc on the town?
“We need to get this evidence to Will,” he said.
Gideon spoke up. “I’ll take it. Deputy Hanley can ride with me if the rest of you want to go ahead to the Murdoch hideout.”
The pair rode for town while Noah and the others continued on. According to the map, the gang was holed up in an abandoned cabin a mile and a half farther west. His concentration wasn’t on the coming confrontation, however. Constance’s tearful face dominated his thoughts. If he made it back to her, he had to somehow convince her to marry him. For the sake of their reputations. For the sake of the girls’ best interests.
While marriage hadn’t been a part of his plan, he wasn’t one to shirk his duty. He’d let his attraction to her mar his good sense and now they’d both have to pay the price. If she left with the girls, he’d worry himself to death. Better they stay here where he could watch over them and see to their needs.
Lost in thought, the echo of gunshots caught him unawares. He jerked in the saddle.
Pete Lyle was riding closest to him. He pointed to the northwest, where the outline of a shelter was visible beneath a lone tree. “See that?”
Withdrawing his weapon, Noah spurred his horse into a gallop. Closer to the cabin, chaos reigned. Other men, strangers to Noah, were firing upon the structure. One of them spun and aimed in their direction before holding up a hand and yelling at his group not to fire.
A gold sheriff’s badge glinted on the man’s chest. “I’m Trenton Jameson,” he yelled, “sheriff of Morgan’s Creek.”
“Noah Burgess. Cowboy Creek.” Beneath him, Samson pranced sideways. “We’re after Zeb Murdoch and his boys.”
“Same.”
Movement out of the corner of his eye registered, and he recognized Zeb’s lanky figure sprinting away. Before he could react, one of Jameson’s men chased after him on horseback. Noah joined the pursuit, dodging Zeb’s poorly aimed shots.
The distance between the man and Zeb narrowed. Swinging out, he slammed the butt of his gun on the outlaw’s head. Zeb went down and sprawled facedown in the grass. A groan escaped him as Jameson’s man leaped from the saddle and, seizing the man’s arms, locked a pair of cuffs on him.
Jumping down from Samson, Noah helped the other man rouse Zeb. Together, they marched him back to the cabin. By that time, Sheriff Jameson and his group, along with Noah’s men, had the rest rounded up. With their leader deserting them, the others had surrendered.
“Good work, gentlemen.” Jameson eyed Noah. “Glad you came along. How’d you know about this place?”
“Xavier’s sitting in my jail. He had the information. All we needed was the right incentive to get it out of him.”
Zeb spit at his feet. “My brother ain’t no snitch.”
“He is when his sister’s well-being is at stake.”
Beneath the unkempt beard, the man blanched.
“Brotherly love is a powerful motivator, I found out,” Noah drawled. He looked to Jameson. “What about you?”
The outlaw nearest Morgan Creek’s lawman held out his wrists. Jameson proceeded to release him.
Pete Lyle made a sound of protest. “What are you doing?”
“This here’s no outlaw. He’s one of mine. Been playing pretend in order to catch the Murdochs.”
Someone let loose a low whistle. The real criminals spouted threats of retaliation.
Ready to get home to Constance and figure out how to convince her to stay, Noah jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t have enough cells to house everyone. How about you take Zeb and those two. I’ll take the rest.”
“Agreed. We’ll coordinate their transfer to Lawrence in preparation for their court proceedings.”
Noah turned to his posse. “Good work today, gentlemen. Let’s go home.”
* * *
The thought of seeing Constance kept his exhaustion at bay. Despite the major events of the day—discovering the deeds and capturing Zeb and his cohorts—Noah’s biggest hurdle had yet to be scaled. She wasn’t going to be easy to convince. Not after his repeated attempts to push her away. While he couldn’t offer her love, he could offer her respect and affection. He’d be good to her daughters. Surely that would be enough.
Quickly settling Samson in the barn, he strode to the house and let himself in. Constance emerged from the bedroom, her hand pressed against her bare throat. She was alluring in a blue-and-white housecoat. Her dark waves cascaded about her shoulders, framing her face and making her look like a young girl of eighteen.
“You’re all right.”
Noah hung his hat on a peg and tried to right his mussed hair. Maybe now wasn’t the right time. He was dirty and sweaty from spending all day in the saddle. He probably smelled like horse and leather and who knew what else while she smelled like a fresh summer flower.
“How did it go today?” she asked. He noticed the picture book she held.
Going to the table, he ran a hand along the top wood slat of a chair, wishing he had the freedom to luxuriate in the softness of her long, beautiful hair.
“The outlaws are locked up. They won’t be troubling our citizens anymore.”
“That’s a relief.” Her gaze scanned him from head to toe. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“None of our men sustained injuries. God protected us.”
“Momma.” Jane’s voice carried through the doorway. “Can Mr. Noah read to us?”
Constance fiddled with her high collar and lifted the book. “We were looking at the pictures.” Turning to the side, she addressed the girls, who were already in bed. “He’s had a long day, girls. I’m sure he’s tired. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”
Noah glanced at the book’s cover and moved to the doorway. “Hansel and Gretel is one of my favorites. If you don’t mind my stench, I’ll read it to you.”
Abigail wiggled with glee. “Yes, please!”
Standing at his shoulder, Constance’s cheeks pinked. “You smell like a normal, hardworking male to me.”
He tweaked a lock of her hair. “How about I read to the girls while you fix us some warm mi
lk?”
“Oh, you liked that, did you?” She winked. “Hannah has no idea what she’s started.”
Noah got distracted watching her as she moved about the kitchen. How easy it was to envision her here permanently...as his wife. He’d be free to take her in his arms anytime. Free to kiss her. Hold her. Console her when she was feeling sad. Laugh with her over the twins’ antics. His chest seized up. Maybe she’d even be willing to have babies with him.
“Mr. Noah, aren’t you coming?” Jane and Abigail got tired of waiting.
Feeling as if maybe his reasons for wanting this marriage weren’t as cut-and-dried as he’d thought, he went to the bed and motioned for them to scoot over. By the time he finished the story, Abigail was asleep, her gamine features relaxed. Jane’s lids were heavy as he tucked the covers about her.
“We can’t go home again, either,” she said drowsily. “Just like Hansel and Gretel.”
He smoothed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, smiling at her ramblings.
“Momma said we can’t go to cousin Constance’s house again, either.” Her blue eyes were sad as she blinked up at him. “I miss cousin Constance.”
Frowning, he straightened to his full height. “Your ma’s name is Constance.”
“Shh.” Her lids drifted closed. “Not supposed to tell her name is Grace.”
Uneasiness lodging in his gut, Noah joined Constance in the kitchen, the Sunday dinner with Colton Bailey surging in his mind. She’d cut Jane off without provocation the moment she started talking about their Chicago relation. Unusual behavior for a mother who was typically patient in instruction. He thought about the letter she’d received. Her jumpiness and overall refusal to discuss her cousin should’ve roused his suspicions.
Stopping at the counter, he studied her profile and wondered if she’d been hiding secrets more insidious than mere family drama.
“Did they enjoy the story?” she asked, pouring the milk into mugs.
“They did.” He waited until she stood on the opposite side of the counter facing him. “Jane said something peculiar just now.”