The Substitute Wife (Brides of Little Creede Book 1)

by CiCi Cordelia

  “Something like that.” Slim eased back, waving his gun toward the door. “Up.”

  Lambert slowly stood. “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Shut up, and move.” Slim forced him through the parlor, to the front door.

  “Let me go and I won’t report you to Sheriff Lang—”

  He yanked Lambert close and shoved the Colt under his chin. “You’re not going to say anything to anybody.”

  Elijah tried to jerk away. “You’ll have to shoot me, Morgan. Then you’ll hang. That money doesn’t belong to you.”

  Slim spun the man around and pinned him to the door, face-first, jamming the muzzle against the back of Lambert’s neck. “One shot, and you’re dead. Want to risk it? Now, open the goddamn door.”

  “Ho there, what’re you doing?” a voice called out.

  Slim looked back over his shoulder and spotted several townsfolk in various stages of dress, crowding into the parlor from the hallway. One he recognized as Sarah, the young woman Lambert often stepped out with. Pale and on the scrawny side, she wore a shabby dressing gown and no slippers, her hands clapped over her mouth.

  The elderly woman who’d spoken—Maude Adams, the boardinghouse owner—glared with rheumy eyes as she brandished a carving knife in one gnarled hand. Beside her, Buck Adams yanked a wrinkled shirt over his faded union suit.

  Shit. He couldn’t gun them all down.

  “Mister Lambert and I have some unfinished business,” he called out, then put his mouth against Lambert’s ear and spoke quietly. “Now move, or I’ll shoot that horse-faced stick you consider your intended.” Slim jerked his chin toward the hapless Sarah.

  Lambert yelled, “No.”

  Sarah screamed, “Don’t hurt him,” and clumsily leapt forward.

  Slim didn’t hesitate. He spun, brought his arm up, and fired.

  She dropped like a stone.

  Maude screeched.

  Moaning, Elijah doubled over as if he’d been stabbed.

  With a bellow, Buck lurched forward.

  Slim shifted his weapon, leveling it on Buck. There really was no choice now. He had to kill them all.

  The door flung open behind him, catching his shoulder and knocking him to the side. Slim landed in a heap several feet from Joshua Lang, who had both pistols cocked and aimed straight at his heart.

  “Drop it, Morgan,” Lang shouted. “You’re under arrest.”

  Chapter 24

  Retta snuggled Addie securely on her lap. Often rambunctious when riding in the buckboard, at least this time their child was content to sit quietly.

  “You know, we could have let Nell or one of the other women come to the ranch and watch Addie,” Harrison commented, as he guided Copper over a deep rut in the road.

  “Absolutely not. Those folks are still contagious. I sure don’t want any of us infected with chicken pox.” Retta firmed her grip around Addie’s waist. “Besides, I can’t deal with her out of our sight, Harrison. Not after,” she swallowed, painfully, “after what happened.”

  He laid a hand over her knee and squeezed. “I know, honey. And I understand.” He peered ahead, where the narrow trail met the edge of town and widened. “Today’s the day Morgan’s supposed to leave for prison. You really want to see him hauled away?”

  She heaved a sigh, rubbing at her temple where residual tension lingered. “No, I really don’t, but I think I need to. Betsey said she’d watch Addie over at the mercantile. I don’t want her anywhere near that bastard.” At Harrison’s raised brow, she stuck her nose in the air. “Well, that’s what he is.”

  On the other side of the buckboard, Frank clucked his tongue to keep Beauty abreast. “I agree. Call ‘em as you see ‘em, sister.”

  She released an unladylike snort. “Oh, I intend to.”

  Addie sat up and held out her arms. “Unca Fank, wide.”

  Frank made a silly face. “You just want me for my candy.”

  In answer, she bounced on Retta’s lap. “Mama, can I?”

  “Oh, all right. Harrison, ease a bit.” He obligingly pulled in Copper’s reins, and Retta handed Addie over as soon as the wagon stopped moving. Settling into Frank’s lap, she crowed happily and immediately went on a search through his pockets.

  He flinched. “Damn, those bony little fingers tickle.” Catching her wrists carefully, he fished for her treat, grinning when she snatched it from him and sucked the candy into her mouth.

  “Tank you.” She pressed a sticky kiss to his bearded cheek, then leaned against his shoulder, content.

  Harrison snapped Copper’s reins and the buckboard started rolling again. Retta found herself staring off into space, chewing one of her fingernails ragged.

  His warm hand eased her thumb away from her gnawing teeth. “Everything’s going to be fine, Retta. We won’t go near the station.” Shifting the reins, he twined her abused fingers with his. “We’ve got the proof needed to connect Morgan to embezzlement and attempted murder. Enough to keep him locked up until we can get at the truth regarding Peter’s death. Morgan can’t hurt anyone now. If he’s found guilty for murder, he’ll hang for what he’s done. And even if nothing can be proved, he’ll never get out of prison.”

  Slowly, she nodded, clinging to him.

  A few minutes later, Harrison stopped the buckboard across from the jail and looped the reins. Jumping down, he strode around to help her.

  Frank coaxed Addie to wind herself around his neck, and dismounted as she clung to him like a vine. He carried her to Retta.

  Looking around, Harrison spotted Silas on the boardwalk near the mercantile. “Loman, you seen the sheriff?”

  Silas finished locking the door, pocketing his key. “Probably still in the jailhouse.” He strode over and tipped his hat to Retta. “Ma’am.” Stretching out a tickling finger, he caught Addie in the ribs, earning a wriggle and a squeal. “Betsey ran over to Doc’s office. She’ll be right back.”

  “That’s fine, we can wait.” Retta eased Addie to the ground and retained a firm hold on her hand. Still sucking on her candy, she huddled against Retta’s skirts, not inclined to wander off as she usually tried to do when in town.

  “Retta, why don’t you and Addie go find Cat while you’re waiting for Missus Loman?” Harrison suggested. “You can have a nice visit.” At her hesitancy, he drew his knuckles across her cheek. “You don’t need to be out here, seeing anything or anyone else.”

  “No, Harrison. I think it’s just what I need.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, and for a second she felt badly for causing him extra worry.

  “All right,” he finally replied. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  “There’s your wife now, Silas.” Frank pointed up the street where Betsey bustled along, her skirts swirling around her shoes.

  She reached them, out of breath, her straw bonnet askew, and immediately held out her arms for Addie. “Is that Miss Adeline Carter? Why, she’s almost all grown up, I’d have scarcely recognized her but for those big pretty eyes.”

  Addie went willingly, snuggling into Betsey’s comfortable embrace. “I got a kitty.”

  “So I heard, and how exciting for you.” Betsey winked. “I’ll bet your papa just loves having a puppy and a kitty to chase around the house.”

  Retta coughed delicately. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, Betsey.”

  The outer door to the jail opened, and two unfamiliar men stepped out, both fully armed with double holsters and lethal-looking Colts.

  Slim Morgan hung in their grip, his head drooping down over his bedraggled waistcoat. Behind Morgan, Joshua Lang and another armed stranger kept their cocked rifles pointed at his back.

  Retta eased back toward Addie and spread out her full skirts to make certain he
r child didn’t see anything, as Betsey murmured, “I’ll just take your girl to the store.” She led Addie away.

  Though she’d heard herself thanking Betsey, Retta couldn’t help staring at the monster who had perpetrated so much evil in such a short time. He looked anything but tough and deadly at the moment, yet she knew his downtrodden appearance could instantly change to something ugly and dangerous.

  But for now, chains circled his wrists and wound halfway up his arms. Another chain locked over his ankles above the hem of his tattered pants. Padlocks secured the ends of both chains.

  Disheveled, dirty, one eye swollen, bruises on his face . . . The consequences of more than a week in the jailhouse showed clearly.

  Just then Elijah Lambert walked up, his arm in a sling. Retta noted he advanced to Frank’s left so his shooting hand wouldn’t be blocked. Smart of him.

  His presence helped to balance her emotions, and she nodded to the young banker. “How is Sarah, Mister Lambert?”

  “She woke up this morning and said her stitches itch, then she asked for a soft-boiled egg.” A faint red stained his cheeks. “And a kiss. I was proud to supply both.”

  “I am so happy for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” His smile faded to a fierce frown when he stared at the man who’d shot his beloved. “I’m surely relieved to see Morgan get his comeuppance.”

  A noise down the street drew everyone’s attention as the prison stage approached, its wheels sending up dust. In its wake Joshua came over. “Two guards and a deputy will accompany Morgan to the state prison,” he stated. “The driver is armed. Former Union captain, now working at the prison. They sent five men in all.”

  His deep blue eyes rested on Retta. “He won’t escape. He’s in chains, and he’ll remain that way until this coach pulls through the prison gates and they lock behind him.”

  “He should hang, Joshua.” Harrison tightened his hands on his guns, still in their holsters.

  “I know he should.”

  “Attempted bank robbery. And he shot Sarah. You know damned well that wasn’t an accident as he claimed. I would wager my last nickel he killed Peter, arranged the explosion that ruined Clem’s life, and killed two good men.”

  Remembering Harrison’s description of how he’d found their child, limp and unresponsive in that cave, sent a flood of fury crashing through Retta. “We all know he was behind Addie’s abduction, Sheriff.” Her calm voice belied her barely contained emotion.

  At that moment, how she wished for a gun.

  ~ ~ ~

  Another deputy, badge flashing in the sunlight, exited the rear of the coach and positioned himself facing the door. Harrison bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. His hand hovered over his right-hand gun as the pair of guards urged their prisoner off the boardwalk and into the street.

  Harrison found himself longing to put a bullet between Morgan’s eyes for the pain and fear the man had caused his wife and daughter.

  Joshua clamped a palm on his shoulder. “Do you really want to do that in front of your wife? Put it away, Carter.”

  After a tense moment, Harrison relented and relaxed. “Thanks, Joshua.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he replied quietly. “Your family needs you more than you need revenge.”

  “That’s the only thing keeping Morgan on his feet right now.”

  Behind him, Retta murmured, “Harrison, is he . . . can he . . .?”

  Harrison was quick to reassure her. “No, He can’t get loose. He’s done for.” Reaching for her arm, he gently pulled her to his side, intending to walk her back to the mercantile. As far as he was concerned, they’d seen enough.

  Then above the murmuring crowd, a low growl rumbled, as Morgan began tugging at the chains binding his wrists. His eyes flashed over Harrison and burned, hot and hateful, on Retta.

  Lips pulled back in a sneer, he strained against the hard grip of two burly, heavily-armed guards. When another animal-like hiss came out of his mouth, Harrison swept Retta behind him as Joshua and Frank crowded closer.

  “Bitch.” Slim twisted and writhed in the guards’ meaty hands, unable to move more than a foot in any direction thanks to the restraints. He thrashed harder. One of the guards emitted an impatient grunt and cuffed him upside the head so hard his ear bled.

  Slumping in their grip, Morgan’s feet dragged as they carted him toward the waiting prison coach.

  “God.” Retta pressed her face against Harrison’s shoulder. “I want to get Addie and go home.”

  He stroked her hair, dropping a kiss to her cheek. “We’re going now, honey. There’s nothing more to see.”

  As they started toward the mercantile, Morgan’s voice rang out, ugly and mean.

  “I’ll be seeing you, Carter. You and your lovely wife. Did you hear me? I’ll be seeing you.”

  Chapter 25

  Retta adjusted the sleeves of her gown, fussing with the lace. In the vanity mirror, the red silk brocade glowed, deep and rich. Betsey Loman had convinced Harrison to buy the bolt of supple fabric, then she’d helped Retta design and sew the lovely garment.

  Warm hands settled on her shoulders, and firm lips trailed her skin. “You are so beautiful.” Harrison’s deep rasp left her shivering. When his fingers caressed her nape, her trembling increased.

  She met his appreciative gaze in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too fancy for a country dance?”

  “I think you’re perfect.” He nuzzled her ear as his hands slipped up the boned bodice and cupped her breasts. “Besides, I scrubbed my neck just for you. If that’s not fancy, I don’t know what is.”

  Helpless laughter bubbling in her throat, Retta turned in his arms. Her fingers stroked his clean-shaven jaw as she rose on tiptoes to kiss him, a chaste caress that became impassioned when his lips parted and his tongue sought hers. Harrison groaned and took the kiss deeper.

  Endless seconds later, he broke free with a bite to her bottom lip, then eased back to look her over. “There, now. Got that pretty mouth all rosy to match your dress. I think we’re ready to go.”

  He looked so handsome in his starched dress shirt and knife-pleated trousers, Retta’s heart melted. How she’d ended up such a lucky woman, she’d never fully understand.

  If it took a lifetime, she’d make sure her husband felt loved and cherished by her.

  Starting now.

  “You’re a wonderful man, Harrison Carter.” She slid her hands over his collar, straightening the string tie that had loosened, smoothing the lapels of his waistcoat. Urging his face closer, she pressed her cheek to his. “So wonderful. I just thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thank you, honey.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then offered his arm. “Ready to collect our daughter? I’m sure her pinafore is still in one piece, and mostly clean.”

  Retta took his arm. “I wouldn’t bet on it.” At the high-pitched squeal that echoed through the house, followed by Noodle’s frenzied barking and the yowling Doppy, she sighed dramatically. “No, I wouldn’t bet at all.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The Lucky Lady looked a lot different tonight. Harrison gave the dance hall a thorough onceover as he escorted Retta through the double doors. Addie had already spotted Frank and leapt on him. Her excited chatter and his teasing responses echoed in the expansive room.

  Tables and chairs had been pushed back to allow for the dancing that would begin soon. In one corner, Dub rosined up his bow and tuned the fiddle tucked beneath his bearded chin. Couples clustered here and there amongst unattached miners and some of the older townsfolk. Somebody had sprinkled sawdust over the planked floor, and Harrison winced, imagining Addie plopping her little rump down—then rolling in it—the way several children had already done.

  “You do know her new outfit is going to be ruined by the time we l
eave, don’t you? All that pink and white flounce is guaranteed to collect dirt, real fast,” he murmured in Retta’s ear.

  She glanced down at the floor and groaned. “Sawdust. My favorite thing in the world to scrub out of clothing. I might have to burn that dress tomorrow.”

  “Well, it’ll light up nicely. Maybe we can use it for kindling.” He swung her into a spin, enjoying how gracefully her skirts belled out, then brought her close, his arm banded around her waist. “You going to dance with me, Missus Carter?”

  “Why, I just might.” Her eyes glowed as she fluttered her lashes at him. In the soft lantern glow her beauty struck him like a lightning bolt, and he swallowed a lump of emotion. My wife. It still amazed him at times, how fate altered everything . . .

  “Papa, dance.” Addie’s sweet demand broke in, and Harrison looked down at his daughter, who had grabbed hold of his leg and planted her tiny slippered feet on the top of one boot. She bounced, her big eyes mischievous. “Dance.”

  Harrison patted her tousled curls. “You bet, sweetpea. Dub,” he called over, “my girl wants to dance. How about a little ‘Turkey in the Straw?’”

  “Comin’ up.” Dub set his foot to tapping, plucking out the first strains, and Harrison caught Addie’s hands, keeping her balanced on his toes as he stepped lively around the room. Amidst her excited squeals, his gaze found Retta’s.

  The misty tenderness he saw in her blue eyes clutched at his heart.

  More and more folks took to the dance floor as Dub slowed the music, the stately ‘Down by the River’ giving courting and married couples the chance to hold each other in a waltz. With Addie sitting on the floor as Retta had predicted, playing with a little girl close to her age, Harrison took advantage of the situation and swept his wife into the dance.

  She seemed to float on his arm, her red skirts swaying each time he spun her around. He brought her closer and laughed aloud at her attempts to place a few inches of decorum between their bodies.