He also had an ache in his gut that hurt as much as Teddy’s bee sting. He missed Dani. She’d be worried about him. So would his nieces. Riding on alone, without a goodbye and finalizing the adoption, should have tempted him, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Dani in the lurch. Beau cursed God for His cruelty and Dawes for his incompetence. If they’d come to Sparrow Canyon first, they might have caught Johnson.
He kicked the ashes. “Let’s go home.”
He followed Dawes and his deputies out of the cave, but paused to stare up the canyon. It meandered for miles, an outlaw’s paradise with jagged turns and places to hide. The meadow rippled with thick grass for stolen horses and the stream flowed fast with melted snow. Best of all, the trail veered south and west, giving a man on the run two routes of escape.
Beau couldn’t shake the feeling that Clay was just a mile or two away, up the canyon and watching them, snickering at their lack of will. Beau itched to keep going, but he had a responsibility to Dani and his nieces. Johnson would have to wait. So would his feelings for Dani. Of the two delays, he didn’t know which annoyed him more.
Clay lay on his back, staring at the night sky. A week had passed since they’d raided the Rocking J. The horses, grazing in the moonlight, whickered to each other like old friends. Goose and Andy had shuffled a deck of cards and were gambling for swigs of whiskey. Clay had expected Morgan to find them by now. Instead the lawman had come within a stone’s throw and turned around.
Clay knew Morgan had come into Sparrow Canyon because of yesterday’s ride. He’d gone after a stray mare, seen tracks near the cave and had gone inside. Someone had kicked the fire pit in a fit of temper. Clay felt sure it was Morgan. The man usually rode alone, but Clay had counted three more sets of boot prints. He didn’t think for an instant Morgan had turned back by choice. Clay suspected he’d been with the local sheriff, a man known to be weak.
Looking at the stars, Clay called himself a fool for staying near Castle Rock. With Morgan stuck on a farm with a woman and three girls, Clay could have lost him, maybe for good. He’d had his fill of Goose and Andy, too. If they’d gone south, he could have given them a cut, said goodbye and gone east. He could have been free.
So why hadn’t he done it?
Clay didn’t know. He’d been irked by Andy’s chicken sounds, but more than pride kept him in this canyon. Was it regret? Guilt? He wanted to think he was beyond such feelings—that he was beyond feeling anything at all—but his gut had been churning ever since he’d put down Ricochet. He couldn’t stop thinking about death, Heaven and Reverend Blue’s stories about Jesus.
“For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten son…”
Clay snorted through his nose. No one—except Beau Morgan for the wrong reasons—cared whether he lived or died. The shedding of blood for sin? Someone dying in his place so he could be free? Clay knew nonsense when he heard it, yet somehow he felt a yearning for such goodness. He wanted to believe in Jesus, but he was afraid to pray the prayer Reverend Blue had said with Chet. Clay didn’t know what would happen, but he doubted it would be good. Not even God could forgive a man like Clay.
“You awake, boss?”
Clay glanced across the fire and saw Goose staring through the flames. He grunted. “I am now.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“Morgan,” Goose said. “He should have found us by now. I say we smoke him out.”
Clay couldn’t sleep, so he decided to listen. “Got any ideas?”
“I say we hit another ranch. We send Andy down the canyon with the horses. You and I set up an ambush. When Morgan comes through, he’s dead.”
Clay saw the logic, but the plan left a bad taste. Killing Morgan in cold blood would solve one problem, but what about Clay’s guilty conscience? He wanted to sleep at night, not lie awake feeling like pond scum. He already felt so bad that sometimes he wanted to die. Killing Morgan in cold blood wouldn’t make the pain go away.
“I don’t like it,” he said to Goose.
“Why not?”
Clay wasn’t about to bare his soul to Goose, so he looked for another excuse. “What about Dawes?”
“He’s weak. He’ll give up.”
“I still don’t like it.”
Goose’s face went hard. “There’s another possibility.”
“What’s that?”
“We bring the fight to Morgan.”
Clay wished he hadn’t opened his eyes. The thought of putting children in harm’s way made him ill. “I won’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I won’t.”
“It would be easy,” Goose said. “I’ll go to the Silver River. Someone’ll tell me where the farm is. We pay a midnight call and just like that—” he snapped his fingers “—Morgan’s hanging from a tree.”
For three little girls to find…for the woman to cut down and bury. Even worse, what would happen if the woman ran to Morgan’s rescue? They’d have to hurt her. Clay muttered a curse. “It’s too risky.”
Andy rolled over. “I say we visit the farm.”
“No.”
“The woman’s pretty. She smells good, too.”
“Shut up,” Clay growled.
Andy dropped flat and sighed.
Goose stared hard through the fire. “You’re acting like a whipped dog.”
Clay’s pride flared, but he said nothing.
Andy clucked like a hen. He’d been drinking and was sloppy drunk. Clay hated sloppy drunks. His father had been one. He’d either laughed himself silly or beat his wife and sons. Clay’s own father had broken his nose twice. Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the crookedness and hated it. He pushed to his feet, walked past the fire and kicked Andy in the gut.
The kid curled into a ball. “What was that for?”
“For being you.”
Clay was sick to death of these two clowns. Going east sounded better than ever. He had a cousin in St. Louis. He hadn’t seen the fellow in years, but last he’d heard, he ran a dry goods store. The two of them had been boyhood pals, kicking each other in church while the minister droned.
Goose broke into his thoughts. “What’ll it be, boss?”
Clay was still in the St. Louis dry goods store, thinking about his cousin and the Bible stories he’d heard as a boy. He’d had enough of running. Enough of the guilt. But Morgan would never stop.
Goose gave him a stare that challenged more than Clay’s pride. It gave him a choice. Fight like a man or put up with Andy’s chicken sounds. The only feeling in Clay’s life stronger than guilt was a yearning for peace. He couldn’t explain that feeling to Goose or Andy. They were young men intent on leaving their mark. Clay had seen more than forty years of life, and the last few had been tiresome to say the least. He’d had enough. One way or another, he wouldn’t leave this canyon until he settled the score with Morgan.
But settle it how? With a confession? I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to shoot her. Or with bloodshed and a quick trip to Heaven or Hell? Looking at the sky, Clay didn’t think Beau Morgan would care that he was sorry. He doubted God would, either. Clay thought hard about his choice. Another raid would satisfy his men and add to their bankroll, but it would also draw out the law. He didn’t want to deal with Dawes and a posse. He just wanted to settle things with Morgan. That meant sending the man a message.
Clay looked at Goose. “Andy can’t go to town, but you can.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Clay went back to his bedroll, dropped to a crouch and slipped a single bullet from his gun belt. He handed it to Goose. “Leave this at the Silver River. Tell the barkeep to give it to Morgan.”
Goose palmed the casing. “How will he know it’s from you?”
“It’s the same caliber that killed his wife.”
Goose laughed.
Clay felt sick.
Andy rolled over in his bedroll. “Let me take it. There’s a social on Sa
turday. I want to go.”
Andy, Clay decided, was an idiot. “You’re the one they followed down this canyon.”
“For no reason.” Andy pouted. “I was nice to that girl.”
“You’re staying put.” Clay turned to Goose. “Leave the bullet with the barkeep at the Silver River but skip the dance.”
Goose pinched the brass casing, turning it to catch the light of the fire. The bullet glowed orange, reminding Clay of a setting sun. Weary, he slid into his bedroll, put his head on the ground and closed his eyes. Unless Morgan had lost his instincts, it wouldn’t be long before he came all the way down the canyon.
Chapter Fourteen
Back in Denver, Beau had enjoyed church socials. He’d liked flirting with pretty women and he didn’t mind dancing. Once Lucy had come into his life, dancing had been more than fun. They’d found the rhythms unique to them. Beau wanted to find that rhythm with Dani, but nothing had changed since he’d ridden out of Sparrow Canyon. When he’d reached Castle Rock, he’d stopped at Scott’s office and told the man to push hard for the adoption. As soon as the papers were signed, Beau intended to go after Johnson. One way or another, the chase would end.
After seeing the attorney, he’d ridden to the parsonage. He’d greeted Dani with a tip of his hat, not the embrace he’d wanted, but the girls had all hugged him. Now, standing in the Castle Rock schoolhouse, dressed up for the dance and holding a cup of punch, he could still feel their skinny arms around his middle.
For the third time in ten minutes, Beau looked at his pocket watch. He wanted to visit the Silver River for news, but he couldn’t leave Dani. He didn’t know where she’d gotten the dress, a royal blue gown that matched her eyes, but it fit her to perfection. Riding next to her in the surrey, he’d stared at the dirt road to keep from noticing her dainty shoes and the way she’d tapped her toes to an imaginary waltz.
She’d volunteered at the punch bowl, a place where every man in town would have a reason to talk to her. Dani didn’t know it, but Beau was standing five feet behind her, keeping a watchful eye.
A few bars into the opening polka, the first man dared to approach her. Beau recognized the rancher from the picnic. While riding with Dawes, he’d quizzed the sheriff about every man in Castle Rock. The rancher, a recent widower, had a little boy. He never missed church, paid his hands well, didn’t gamble or drink and was the first to show up when a neighbor needed help.
His only fault was bad taste in vests, but Beau counted that reason enough to dislike him. As the man approached Dani, Beau crossed his arms and stared. Unaware he was being watched, the man turned on the charm. Dani gave him a cup of punch. As he lifted it to his lips, Beau lowered his chin. The motion caught the rancher’s attention. So did Beau’s hardest stare. The poor fellow nearly choked. With a stiff nod, he set down the cup, walked away and asked another woman to dance.
Good, Beau thought. Dani didn’t need a goody-two-shoes rancher for a husband. She needed a man who understood her. Beau watched as she squared her shoulders. The blue silk puffed at her shoulders, then narrowed to fit her arms. He thought of her hands. She was wearing white gloves, dainty things trimmed in lace with pearl buttons at the wrist. Beau thought the gloves were nice but unnecessary. He liked Dani’s hands just fine.
Another man approached. Beau didn’t know him from Adam and didn’t care to. The fool hadn’t bothered to shine his shoes. He took a cup of punch, saw Beau and left without a word. Dani followed him with her eyes. When he asked another woman to dance, she sagged a bit but not for long.
Looking at her back, he imagined the smile pasted to her face and felt bad. Then again, if a man couldn’t meet Beau’s stare, he didn’t deserve to dance with the prettiest woman in the room. Dani didn’t need a weakling for a husband. She needed a man who knew how to fight and love. A man who could be tender with children and cows but fierce with everything else. A man like…He clenched his jaw.
Five more men wandered to the refreshment table. All five looked at Dani, saw Beau and turned a pasty white. They each asked other women to dance, leaving Dani alone at the punch bowl with her shoulders as stiff as those of a stone angel. Beau’s gaze drifted to the dance floor where he saw Josh and Adie gazing into each other’s eyes. They’d been married for years, but they danced like newlyweds. As the couple turned with the music, Josh spotted Beau. He said something to Adie. They stopped dancing and walked toward Beau.
To hide the fact he’d been watching Dani, Beau went to greet them. “Nice social,” he said as they met at the punch bowl.
Josh grinned. “It would be nicer if you were dancing.”
Adie leaned close to Dani and pretended to whisper in her ear. “I hear Beau’s light on his feet.”
Dani’s cheeks turned pink. They both knew Josh and Adie were playing matchmaker. The effort irked Beau to no end. He didn’t need any prodding to ask Dani to dance. He’d been fighting the urge all night.
Still blushing, Dani gave Adie a cup of punch. “You must be thirsty after all that dancing.”
She sounded wistful. Beau felt bad about chasing away her dance partners, but no one had measured up.
Josh and Adie traded a look. Without a glance at Beau, Josh offered his hand to Dani. “May I have this dance?”
Dani turned pinker. “I don’t think—”
“Go on,” Adie insisted.
Josh swept Dani into the crowd. Adie said something friendly, but Beau didn’t hear the words. His eyes were glued to Dani, who looked happy for the first time all night. The fiddler played a fancy scale. The guitarist joined in, followed by the bellow of the accordion playing the first bars of a polka.
Dancers crowded the floor, but Beau had eyes only for Dani in her blue dress, whirling with Josh, who’d said something that made her smile. Four bars into the song, Beau spotted three men closing in on Josh, intending to cut in. Not caring that Adie was in midsentence, he strode onto the dance floor, beating out the other men, including the rancher who’d been ahead of him.
He tapped Josh on the shoulder. “I’m cutting in.”
No small talk. No smiles. Just an order to hand Dani over and do it now.
Josh had the bad manners to chuckle. “Of course,” he said, making a slight bow to Dani.
The next thing Beau knew, they were spinning and whirling and he’d never felt so sure of the rightness of having this woman in his life. Nor had he felt such conflict. He wanted to make Dani his wife, but first he had to finish with Johnson. One dance, Beau told himself. Just for now, he’d enjoy the smile he’d put on her face. He’d let the scent of her hair drift into his nose. He’d look at the gold waves and imagine them free from pins and ribbons, cascading down her shoulders. Just for now, he’d let himself feel the blessing of two hearts beating as one.
When the song ended, Dani looked into his eyes. Short of breath and flushed, she smiled. “That was a surprise.”
Without the shelter of the music, Beau felt the bleakness of the future. He had to leave. Now. Before the band struck up a waltz or reel. It didn’t matter what the musicians played. He had to resist.
Beau hooked his arm around her waist and aimed for the door. “It’s time to go home.”
“What?”
“It’s late.”
“But we haven’t cut the cake.”
“Forget the cake. I want to leave.”
She gave him a look that tore him to shreds. He didn’t know if she was angry, hurt or both. Before he could decide, the musicians played the opening chords of “Camp Town Races.” The music tripped him like a rope.
Dance with her…Just one more.
He saw the interest in her eyes, a curiosity that reminded him of her innocence and her tender heart. She wanted a husband. She wanted a family of her own and to be loved for herself. Beau wanted to give her those things.
But he couldn’t. Not now.
“Beau?” Her eyes clouded. “Are you all right?”
He sobered instantly. He couldn’t let Dani see his feel
ings. He’d already crossed the line by kissing her in the kitchen and again at the picnic. Brotherly caresses, he told himself. Except her feelings, he suspected, were growing as fast as his. He couldn’t risk hurting her. He had to be her friend, nothing more.
Beau schooled his features. “Sorry,” he said in a level voice. “If you want cake, we’ll stay.”
She touched his arm. His bicep bunched, a reflex he couldn’t stop.
Dani looked into his eyes. “I’d like to dance some more.”
“I can’t.”
Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Because of Lucy?”
Beau fought the urge to lie. If he claimed to be grief stricken, Dani would let him off the hook. If he told the truth—that he loved her and it hurt too much to hold her—she’d fight for him. He didn’t think he could resist, so he thinned his lips to a line. “It’s got nothing to do with Lucy.”
“Then why?”
He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to make her leave.
“Mind your own business.”
Dani blinked in disbelief. “I don’t deserve that.”
She was right, but Beau couldn’t apologize. They’d be dancing to a waltz and finding that rhythm he wanted. He couldn’t let that happen, at least not yet, so he said nothing.
Dani’s mouth tightened. “Excuse me. I’m going to help with the cake.” She brushed by him.
Instead of going to the refreshment table, she raced out the door. Beau held in a curse. He couldn’t let her walk alone in the dark, so he followed her, pausing on the steps to let his eyes adjust to the night. As his vision cleared, he scanned the landscape. To the west he saw a stand of pines, pale grass and nothing else. He looked east and saw an empty meadow. He hadn’t seen anyone suspicious tonight, but that didn’t mean a thing. Back in Denver, he hadn’t seen Clay Johnson on the roof. With his heart pounding, he shouted Dani’s name.
Holding her skirt and fighting tears, Dani hurried away from the schoolhouse. She feared Adie had seen her spat with Beau and would come after her, so she ran for the cover of a group of pines. When she reached the farthest tree, she circled away from the schoolhouse and slumped against the rough bark. She could hear the music coming from the open windows, but the shadows made her invisible.
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