She was totally shocked, amazed, delighted, yet too exhausted to grasp what had just happened. As she drifted off, she thought she heard Degan say, “Good night, Mrs. Grant.”
Chapter Forty-Three
COLE CALLAHAN RODE HARD to get back to the ranch. He didn’t have his mother’s bonnet, which he’d been sent to town to fetch. Ever since that Allison Montgomery woman had paid his parents a visit, Mary had been pining for a pretty new bonnet like hers and had ordered one from back East. And he’d been sent to town every day to see if it had arrived. That Eastern lady had made quite an impression on his parents. He wished he’d been home that day to meet her.
His parents had just ridden in from the range for lunch. He caught them leaving the stable for the house and hopped off his horse next to them. Mary looked disappointed when she didn’t see a hatbox tied to his saddle, but he knew he could fix that with his exciting news.
Grinning, Cole exclaimed, “I’ve got a telegram from Morgan!”
Zachary humphed as he took the sealed telegram from his son. “After this long that boy finally lets us know he’s still alive?”
“You were worried he wasn’t?” Mary asked.
“Course not, but he didn’t know that.”
“I knew I should’ve just opened it,” Cole said impatiently. “Pa, what are you waiting for?”
Zachary opened the telegram, but his eyebrows shot up after reading the first line. “Well, I’ll be damned. Morgan struck it rich.” Then with a sigh he said, “I was hoping for better news.”
Cole was laughing. “What’s better than that?”
“That he’s ready to give up this mining nonsense and come home for good.”
“Pa, striking it rich means he won’t be doing the mining himself anymore, he’ll have crews to do it for him.”
But Mary wanted to know. “What else does he say?”
Zachary read further. “I think he’s gone daft. ‘Who knew thorns could be so nice?’ What does that mean?”
Mary snatched the telegram out of her husband’s hands. “Some thornbushes must have led him to his ore discovery,” she guessed.
“Or he’s in love with someone who annoys the hell out of him,” Cole said with a grin.
Mary scoffed, “Morgan in love? That would be wonderful, but I highly doubt it. He’s been too single-minded in this mining obsession of his. When would he have time to fall in love?”
“Well, someone we know did,” Zachary said with a grin of his own. “Read the last line, Mary.”
She did, then exclaimed, “Oh, my! Degan got married!”
“Sounds like Morgan knows Degan was working for me. Why else mention his wedding?” Zachary said.
“Are you kidding?” Cole put in. “Anything to do with Degan Grant is big news and worth sharing, which I’m going to do right now.” He mounted his horse and started off toward town, yelling back, “Don’t wait on me for dinner!”
“I liked that Allison girl,” Mary said as she and Zachary continued walking to the house. “I’m so glad she was able to catch up with Degan.”
“Did your eyes stop on the word married?” Zachary teased. “Morgan says Degan married a pretty blonde, which Miss Montgomery isn’t.”
Mary’s brows went up before she sighed. “I suppose I should hope now that Allison doesn’t catch up with him. Whatever is that gunfighter up to, marrying someone he barely knows instead of his long-lost love?”
* * *
Max had lost interest in the scenery the train was passing and it was only their first day of the trip to Texas. With this being her third train ride now, after the trip to Dakota and back, the thrill of riding so fast had passed. She even thought about taking a nap, though she wasn’t tired.
At least she didn’t have to be alone with Degan. She still blushed when she thought about what had happened on their wedding night. The girls in the brothel hadn’t told her about that. Degan had sensed her embarrassment this morning and had said, “There’s no need to blush about what happened last night. That’s what married people do. I told you this marriage can be as fake as you want it to be, and that’s how it will be until you tell me otherwise.”
The train they were riding wasn’t fancy with private compartments; they were seated with all the other passengers and would be day and night. Grady and Saul were on the train somewhere. She’d seen them board it in Butte. They’d just made sure to sit in a different car. Or maybe Degan had seen to that.
This first leg of the trip was much shorter than Max had figured it would be. They would be reaching the main junction in Ogden, Utah, later that night, where they would switch to the train going East that would eventually connect with a Texas-bound train.
But over dinner in the dining car that evening, Degan told her, “We may have some trouble with our friend Pike tomorrow.”
She snorted. “He’s no friend of ours. But why? Those two have been avoiding us.”
“They will expect us to catch the eastbound train tomorrow, but I’m thinking about spending a few days in the Ogden area instead of continuing on immediately.”
“Why?”
“I need to finish some business.”
She wasn’t letting him get away with such a brief explanation. “What business?”
“John Hayes sent me a telegram in Butte, saying he got word from the US Marshals Service that Charles Bixford was spotted near Ogden. He’s one of the outlaws John needs to apprehend.”
“I remember the notes on Red Charley.”
“They haven’t been able to get a marshal out there yet, and the local sheriffs are reluctant to confront Bixford on their own.”
“So you’re going after him?”
“Yes.”
Degan’s changing their plans didn’t please Max at all. She was in a tearing hurry to see her grandmother and to get Johnny out from under Carl’s thumb, which was where she imagined he’d been since the signing of that damn guardianship decree. She hadn’t expected this delay in getting home.
She stewed over what Degan had said, but as soon as they finished the meal and returned to their seats in the passenger car, she mentioned other options. “I know you still need to capture one more outlaw to pay back your friend, but why would you go after the worst of the lot? As I recall, there are a couple in Wyoming, which we’ll be passing through on the way to Texas, and a couple more in Colorado, which we’ll also be passing through. Why Red Charley?”
“I don’t need to go after any more of them. Three have already been crossed off.”
“Because they dropped the charges against me?”
“No, because one of the two outlaws in Wyoming is already dead.”
She didn’t ask how he knew that. He had to have witnessed it or been involved himself. But now that she knew he didn’t have to go after the worst of the lot, she was even more perplexed by his decision.
“You didn’t tell me why,” she reminded him.
“Because Charles Bixford kills just for the heck of it, and he’s already killed one marshal who tried to apprehend him. And because John has a family. He’ll be going after Bixford if I don’t.”
And Degan didn’t have a family? No, of course not. She didn’t count, and the family he’d left behind didn’t either. A family man such as John Hayes counted. A friend. She got it, she just didn’t like it.
She said, “Grady used to be a real sheriff before he became Carl’s ‘do anything’ man. Maybe he can help.”
Degan leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She recognized that as his answer. He was done discussing it. If she thought they were going to stay together any longer than it took to get to Texas, she would make an effort to break him of that irritating habit. Yet, she had to admit that Degan had changed since she’d met him. The time they’d spent alone in Dakota had opened him up some. They didn’t converse only over a meal. And he didn’t often clam up like this anymore, at least not with her—only when she said something dumb such as implying that he could use some help.
/> Chapter Forty-Four
“REALLY? NO BATH FIRST?”
Degan was leaving the hotel room they’d just entered so he could do some questioning in town. His forgoing a bath first gave her the impression that he was hoping to finish his business here today so they could go on to Texas tomorrow.
“Ogden is a big town,” he added, “but I should know before dinner if Red Charley is here. And lock the door.”
She would have snuck out and done some questioning herself to help him if his remark about locking the door didn’t remind her that Grady and Saul had checked into the same hotel right after them. Although Grady had witnessed the marriage ceremony, she wouldn’t put it past him to snatch her away if he caught her alone. Carl had ordered Grady to bring her back. Letting her waltz into Bingham Hills with Degan would indicate that Grady hadn’t done his job. This was the first time she and Degan had been apart since he’d rescued her in Butte.
She took a bath and then stood by the window, hoping to see Degan on his way back to the hotel. But seeing no sign of him up or down the street, she considered sneaking out to help him. She had her gun back and had been wearing it since they’d left Butte. She could handle Grady as long as he didn’t surprise her. But she didn’t leave the room because she didn’t want Degan to return and find her gone.
Then she spotted a big mountain of a man who could actually be Red Charley. He had red hair, a rat-nested bush of it sticking out all over his head and a full red beard to go with it. His teeth gripped a short, fat cigar, and he was wearing a tattered jacket over farmer’s overalls that looked so well worn they might have been the same ones he’d been wearing when he left Nebraska. He was just walking down the middle of the street, laughing when people scurried out of his way.
A man of that size wouldn’t be easy to apprehend. Shooting him might not stop him, either. With all that excess flesh, he probably wouldn’t even feel a bullet. And Degan was too straightforward. He’d expect a man to go down if he had to shoot him, not come charging at him in rage, which is how Max imagined the big redhead would react.
She hoped the man wasn’t Red Charley. She hoped Degan wouldn’t think he was if he spotted him. But he did. She saw Degan step out from under the porch of a building down the street from the hotel. He called Bixford’s name. Max gripped the windowsill when the big man in overalls stopped and slowly turned.
Degan already had his gun drawn. Charley didn’t appear to be wearing one, with no belt of any sort needed for his overalls. He didn’t look the least bit concerned about Degan. Everyone else was wary around Degan, but not this man. He just casually took a fresh cigar out of his pocket and replaced the short one with it, lighting it with the stub—and tossed it at Degan. It landed at Degan’s feet. That’s when Max realized the cigar had a short fuse attached to it.
It was a stick of dynamite! Degan dived toward a water trough across the street. But the explosion occurred too quickly. She blanched, not knowing if Degan had gotten behind the trough in time or if it even mattered since the trough blew up. The porch posts behind it were also blown away, causing the roof to collapse. The windows of the shop had shattered, too. And that mass-murdering bastard just continued down the street with his barrel laugh floating behind him.
Frantically searching the debris with wide eyes, Max didn’t breathe until she saw Degan slowly getting to his feet. Water had flown everywhere, dousing him, but incredibly, the back of the trough was still standing, though the other three sides weren’t. And Degan’s gun was still in his hand.
His first shot hit the fleshy part of Charley’s leg. All that did was turn him around again. The second shot hit the hand reaching for another stick of dynamite. That only kept the hand out of his pocket. But the big redhead reacted the way Max had imagined he would. Red Charley charged toward Degan. The third shot hit his other leg at the knee. That had to hurt. It still took another long moment for him to topple over when that leg buckled.
Degan should have just shot him in the head. Max would have. Who would miss a killer like that? But Degan had effectively disarmed Bixford with the shot to his hand, keeping him from setting off any more explosions. And Degan wouldn’t kill an unarmed man even if no one would thank him for letting this one live.
Max raced downstairs and out into the street. She didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around Degan when she reached him, despite the crowd of people that had gathered there, including the local sheriff and the Texas lawmen.
She arrived in time to hear Grady grumble, “It would have been nice if you’d mentioned you’re a marshal.” He’d obviously just noticed the badge Degan was wearing today.
“Why?” Degan replied indifferently. “It makes no difference to your task, or to mine.”
The local sheriff said, “Bixford blew up a mine down in Coalville to the south that killed five men, but I wasn’t sure it was him. I confronted him, but he denied it, so I couldn’t lock him up. Had him watched, though, to make sure he didn’t leave town. A witness was coming to identify him, but I’ve been waiting three weeks now for him to get up here. Guess I can let the sheriff in Coalville know we don’t need him now. We had no idea he was wanted for so many killings elsewhere. Appreciate the help, Marshal.”
There was more talk. Max stopped listening and just kept her ear to Degan’s chest. His heartbeat was so soothing to her right then. She was surprised he didn’t set her away from him, that he was even keeping one arm around her back. She had to be embarrassing him, hugging him in public with half the town showing up to talk about the explosion. But no one seemed nervous around him right now.
Everyone was thanking him, which he probably wasn’t used to. She had a feeling no one around there knew who he was and maybe it wouldn’t matter if they did, not after what he’d just done for this town. Max felt Degan could probably fit in anywhere once people found out how nice it was to have him around, but also felt he’d never stick around anywhere long enough to learn that.
“I’ve gotten you wet,” Degan said as he led her back to their hotel, his arm still around her.
“Is that all you’ve got to say? You were nearly blown up! You should’ve shot first and asked if he was Red Charley later, not given him time to throw dynamite at you.”
“You were watching?”
“Yeah, I saw it happen. And that is not how you’re getting rid of me, by dying. So don’t do it again.”
She knew how silly she sounded, but she wasn’t taking it back. And she wasn’t mollified when he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chapter Forty-Five
THREE DAYS LATER WHEN they got off the train for a one-night layover in Council Bluffs, Iowa, and entered a hotel for the night, Degan pointed out in one of his quieter tones of voice, “If you want your own room, then we need to let your friends think that we’re having a fight.” Then even more softly, he added, “So slap me.”
“Like hell I will.”
“Just do it, and before we leave the lobby. We can make up in front of them after the last layover before we get to Texas.”
Max couldn’t bring herself to hit him when she didn’t want to. She was getting annoyed by his willingness to humor her and concede to her wishes. In fact, Degan had pretty much been acting like a husband since they got married, in all ways but one, whether they had an audience or not. She could even detect his humor now. She was getting good at recognizing the signs of his amusement. No turning up of the lips, but a softening of his tone and the expression in his usually cold gray eyes. She’d bet he was laughing inside. She sure wasn’t.
But she clamped her mouth shut and glared at that hound dog Grady, who was standing at the entrance to the hotel, watching them check in. Grady had his doubts that their marriage was real, and he was going out of his way to prove it. It hadn’t just been a far-fetched possibility that their room—and what they did in it—might be watched. In Ogden, she’d spotted Saul asleep on the roof of the building across the street from their hotel, a spyglass in his hand. She’d pointe
d him out to Degan. He’d just shrugged. He’d probably been amused by that, too. But then he hadn’t seemed to have just spent a hellish night sharing the bed, as she had.
She’d thought sleeping together without touching each other would bother him as much as it bothered her. But he’d gotten through that night in Ogden just fine, and he wasn’t the least bit out of sorts about their having to share a bed again tonight. No, he was amused that she’d even suggested getting her own room.
If the nights weren’t so warm that they needed to leave the windows open, and the curtains weren’t so thin that any breeze could blow them out of the way, they wouldn’t still have to sleep in the same bed. But she supposed she was jumping the gun this time. This hotel might have thick curtains, unlike the last one.
They didn’t go straight up to their room so she could find out; Degan just had their things sent up to it. The plan was to take the horses out for a ride before getting cleaned up for dinner, and she’d been looking forward to that.
The animals were getting shortchanged on exercise. They’d taken them out for a long ride while they were in Ogden, and he wanted to do that again today before they caught the southbound train tomorrow. They’d had to come so far east to connect with the trains that would take them all the way to Texas, but riding the Transcontinental Railroad, it had only taken a few days. Max was glad to have a chance to see Council Bluffs, the town that had made history because it was where the cross-country line began, extending the eastern lines that had reached Iowa all the way to the West Coast. She didn’t mention to Degan that they were once again only about a day’s train ride away from Chicago. She was sure Degan realized that. If he ever did plan to go home again, he wasn’t saying. But it wouldn’t be before he finished her business. Of that she was sure.
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