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A Bounty Hunter and the Bride

Page 14

by Vickie McDonough


  The town had changed in the time he’d been gone. New buildings had sprung up, and older ones had been repainted or spruced up. People ambled along the boardwalk, while a few wagons and riders on horseback dotted the dirt street. He could hear the sounds of an active town—a blacksmith hammering, a train whistling, and some cattle lowing. Fragrant aromas from the café wafted on the morning breeze. Life had continued here as if nothing bad had ever happened.

  His gaze was automatically drawn toward the marshal’s office. A man sat polishing a rifle in a chair that hadn’t been outside the office when he was marshal. The man watched him with interest. He slowed his polishing, then leaned the rifle against the clapboard wall and stood. He sauntered over and rested his shoulder against a pole holding up the overhanging roof.

  Dusty’s heart pinged as he recognized his old friend Tom. The man now wore the marshal’s badge on his vest. A slow smile brightened Tom’s craggy features. “ ‘Bout time you returned. Folks pretty much gave up on ever seeing you again, but I told them you’d be back. Course, if you’re planning on gettin’ your old job back as marshal, you’ve got a fight on your hands.”

  Dusty slid off Shadow, hopped up the steps, and shook Tom’s hand. “Your job is safe. I’ve got my own job back in Guthrie.”

  “Guthrie! Whatcha doing there?”

  “It’s a long story, trust me.”

  Tom leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you ever catch that fellow who—well, you know.”

  Dusty nodded, glad to have good news to share. “Ed Sloane is finally in the state penitentiary, along with the rest of his gang. There’s no longer anyone running loose who can rescue him.” He’d spent two weeks chasing the men who had helped kidnap Katie, making sure that he caught every last one of them. He never wanted to have another encounter with Ed Sloane again.

  He studied his friend. Tom had barely aged since he’d last seen him, making Dusty wonder if he himself had. Life on the trail hadn’t been easy and must have taken a toll on him. “How’s the shoulder?”

  Tom flexed his arm. “Good as new, though it was slow going at first. Came as close to meeting my Maker back then as I ever have. Took a good two months before I could work again.”

  “Glad to hear it’s better. I’m sorry you got caught in all that mess.”

  Tom shrugged. “It’s just part of the job.”

  Dusty looked down the street, not really wanting to voice his next question but knowing he must. “Whatever happened to my old house?”

  Tom narrowed his eyes. “Guess you knew about the fire, huh?”

  Dusty nodded.

  “Well, Lawrence Spenser, the man who owned that property, had the mess cleaned up and a new house built there. Then he sold it to a family new to town.”

  Dusty clenched his jaw. “And what about Emily?”

  Tom’s lips tightened, and he looked away. “Her pa had her buried in the town graveyard right after the fire. They waited a month for you to return before finally going ahead with the funeral.”

  “Guess I’d better head over there and say my good-byes.” Tom studied him. “So you don’t plan on staying around these parts?”

  “No.” Dusty shook his head. “I’m a deputy marshal in Guthrie. Figure I’ll stay on there.” Finally he smiled. “Met a feisty little gal that I’m getting ready to marry.”

  Tom’s cheeks pulled up in a grin. “I’m right glad to hear that. You deserve to find some happiness after all you’ve been through.”

  Dusty shook his friend’s hand and rode over to the graveyard. Birds chattered and chirped their cheerful songs, which seemed out of place for a cemetery. He tied Shadow to the picket fence. The three-foot-high gate screeched as he entered.

  He wandered around, passing mostly the graves of people whose names he didn’t recognize. He nearly stumbled when his gaze landed on the recent grave of Jed Harper, the old man who’d been his neighbor. Beside Mr. Harper, Dusty noticed the grave of Mrs. Harper. She had died only a few days after the fire that killed Emily. He wondered if those traumatic events had been too much for the sickly woman.

  He meandered toward the back of the graveyard, his eyes scanning for Emily’s grave. His gaze landed on a grave with an iron fence surrounding it, and he felt pulled in that direction. Emily’s wealthy parents would have wanted something that nice for her.

  His heart jolted when his gaze collided with the white marble tombstone. EMILY ANDERSON MCINTYRE. BELOVED wife and daughter. 1883–1903. HERE ONLY A BRIEF TIME, BUT SHE TOUCHED MANY LIVES.

  Dusty wished it was the season for flowers so he could lay some on the grave, but instead he twisted his hat in his hands. Emily’s parents had picked a nice spot for her grave. Several dogwood trees and a redbud stood behind the headstone. In the spring, they would add the pretty colors Emily had cherished. A shallow creek trickled along about fifty feet from the edge of the cemetery.

  Dusty stared at the tombstone. “I miss you, Em. I want you to know I caught that scoundrel who was responsible for our troubles, and he’ll never hurt another innocent soul again. I’m so sorry for the pain he caused you and for not being able to rescue you.”

  Dusty wiped his damp eyes on his sleeve. “I want you to know I’m getting married again. You’d like Katie. She’s pretty and spunky and has the cutest little boy who needs a pa.

  “I can’t pretend to understand why God took you home to be with Him. All I can think of is Katie needed me more. And I need her. You’ll be happy to know I’ve made peace with God.”

  Dusty pressed his lips together. Sanders Creek had been his home the first part of his life, but his future rested in Guthrie. With his good-byes said, he smacked on his hat and mounted Shadow. Excitement coursed through him as he thought of his future.

  “Let’s go, boy. Katie’s awaiting.”

  Katie studied the reflection of her new dress in Rebekah’s tall oval mirror. The ecru-colored fabric fitted her narrow waist and lay in soft pleats around her hips. Irish lace at the neck and cuffs gave it a bit of fluff, but it was still sensible enough that it could serve as her Sunday dress after the wedding.

  A delicious shiver of excitement wound its way through her, making her stomach queasy. She shoved another pin in her hair and patted one side, hoping her curls would stay put throughout the day’s activities.

  Rebekah strolled in, holding Joey against her shoulder. “You look beautiful, dear.”

  Katie smiled. She felt beautiful and hoped that Dusty would agree.

  “So, no regrets?”

  “No, not a one. Well, except I’m still not sure about leaving Joey here with you all overnight. He hasn’t yet taken a bottle.”

  Her aunt patted Joey’s padded bottom. “He will when he gets hungry enough.”

  “I just hate leaving him—after what happened.”

  Rebekah wrapped her arm around Katie’s shoulders. “I know, but that’s in the past. We’ll take good care of him for you.”

  Katie moved behind Rebekah and looked at her son’s face. His eyes were shut, and his thumb rested in his mouth. How could she bear to leave him overnight?

  “I know what you’re thinking, but he’ll be just fine. He knows us and can get by without you for such a short time. Besides, you and Dusty need time alone on your wedding night.”

  Katie touched her warm cheeks, making her aunt grin. She had no concerns or fears about her wedding night with Dusty. She was certain that if she loved him any more, she just might explode. No, she had no regrets. Not a one.

  Deborah glided into the room in her new, rose-colored dress. “Oh, you look so pretty!”

  Katie took hold of both her hands and studied her cousin, then gave the girl a hug. “So do you.”

  Deborah’s cheeks turned bright red. “Thank you. Pa says it’s time to go.”

  With hands shaking from excitement, Katie donned her cloak and headed for the wagon that would take them to the Christmas Eve service, followed by her wedding. The month she and Dusty had waited after agree
ing to marry had been the longest of her life. But this time, she hadn’t rushed into things. She had taken the time to pray and make sure that marrying Dusty was God’s will for her life. It amazed her how she’d come full circle and was once again starting her life over. She’d sold her land and had put the money in a savings account. They used some of the funds to buy a house in Guthrie so she could stay near her family and Dusty could keep his job, and what was left over would be saved so that Joey could attend college one day or buy his own land.

  Uncle Mason’s eyes beamed as he lifted her into the fancy buggy he’d borrowed just for the day. Today she and Dusty would marry, and tomorrow they’d celebrate their first Christmas together with the family.

  Dusty straightened his new suit for the hundredth time and tugged at the string tie at his neck. Only for Katie would he wear the crazy thing that nearly choked off his breath. He figured he knew what a calf felt like when some cowpoke lassoed it.

  “Stand still. You’re gonna have folks thinking you’re about ready to bolt.” Jimmy chuckled in Dusty’s ear. Serving as best man, he looked just as uncomfortable as Dusty felt. “It’s not too late to salvage your freedom before you’re tied to my sister’s apron strings for life.”

  He didn’t think he’d mind that one bit, but this waiting up in front of the whole community was getting old. “I thought the women were ready to get this show on the road.”

  Jimmy shrugged, and the pastor cleared his throat and gave them a stern look.

  The pastor’s wife began an elegant tune on the pump organ. The whole church was filled with their friends and townsfolk. Josh stood in the back, serving as usher. Deborah, looking pretty and mature in her new pink dress, entered the back of the church. A combination maid of honor and flower girl, she dropped flower petals along the aisle floor and took her place as maid of honor next to where Katie would stand. A faint floral scent wafted in the air as she passed by. Dusty couldn’t imagine where the women had found flower petals in December.

  The twins, dressed in white shirts and dark pants, began their walk down the aisle. Each boy held one side of a frilly pillow to which Katie’s wedding ring was tied. All the men had questioned the females as to the sense of allowing the feisty boys such an important duty, but the women were certain the twins would behave.

  Nathan tugged on the pillow. “You’re holding too much,” he whispered, loud enough that Dusty heard up front.

  “Nuh-uh. You are.” Nick gave a little yank and regained his hold.

  Nathan scowled and pressed his lips together. Dusty watched Rebekah glare at the boys from her perch in the front row. Suddenly, Nathan jerked on the pillow. It went sailing into Homer Johnson’s head and then bounced onto the aisle floor. Stunned shock widened Mr. Johnson’s eyes; then his lips twitched, and he burst out laughing, many in the audience joining him.

  Both boys lunged forward at the same time. Nick fell on top of the pillow, and Nathan fell on Nick.

  “I got it! Get off me!” Nick screamed.

  Rebekah leaped to her feet, handed Joey to Mrs. Whitaker in the second-row pew, and marched down the aisle. Men chuckled, and women stared wide-eyed at the wrestling boys. Dusty had a feeling this wedding would be talked about for weeks.

  Rebekah grabbed both boys by the earlobes and tugged them to the front row. Once seated, the twins nudged each other with their elbows. Dusty couldn’t help smiling.

  Rebekah retrieved the pillow, handed it to Jimmy, and then sat down between her two sons.

  “But we’s s’posed to be up there with Jimmy and Dusty,” Nick whined.

  At his mother’s stern glare, the boy crossed his arms and hunkered down, glowering.

  “Bet you never forget that.” Jimmy chuckled softly beside Dusty as he untied the ring and tossed the lacy pillow aside. “Good thing Katie didn’t see it.”

  Dusty grinned. He heard a ruckus at the back and saw Mason and Katie enter the church. The music became louder, and the organist played another tune.

  Dusty held his breath as Katie glided down the church aisle toward him. Her pale-colored dress emphasized her tanned skin. He loved that she wasn’t afraid to allow the sun to color her skin. It made her blue eyes stand out that much more. Her glorious, golden hair was piled on top of her head in delicate curls. He couldn’t wait until he had the right to yank out all those pins and run his hands through her flaxen mane.

  Mason walked with Katie on his arm. His eyes beamed with pride, making Dusty glad they’d waited to marry until both Mason and Rebekah could give their blessing.

  Katie’s eyes gleamed. His insides turned somersaults. Oh, how he loved this woman! Mason handed her off, and Dusty took his beloved’s hand and turned to face the minister.

  It amazed him how God had taken a man filled with anger and grief and washed him clean, even giving him a future as a husband and father. Only God’s forgiving grace could change a man that much.

  Dusty glanced at the cross behind the minister’s head as he listened to Katie pledge her love.

  Thank You, God, for new beginnings.

  This book is dedicated to my parents, Harold and Margie Robinson. Mom and Dad never failed to allow me to stretch my adventurous wings, even when that meant buying a horse, though we lived in the city, or buying a motorcycle when I was only fourteen. I think the freedom they allowed me as a child gave me the boldness I needed to begin writing and pursue publishing. Dad is now playing his trumpet in heaven and keeping the angels laughing, and Mom is encouraging me with her faithful prayers.

  A note from the Author:

  I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:

  Vickie McDonough

  Author Relations

  PO Box 721

  Uhrichsville, OH 44683

  VICKIE MCDONOUGH is an award-winning author who believes God is the ultimate designer of romance. She is a wife of thirty-one years, mother to four sons, and a doting grandma. When not writing, she enjoys reading, watching movies, and traveling. Visit Vickie’s Web site at www.vickiemcdonough.com.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  Dedication

  A note from the Author

  About the Author

 

 

 


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