Gunslingers Don't Die: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 2)

by Wanda Ann Thomas

  Cowboys milling on the porch outside Aurora’s two saloons stared with undisguised interest at her, Bri, and Colt. Maggie swallowed. “Soon, my love. But first we need say good morning to your father.”

  “Where is he?” Colt asked eagerly, free of the fears, disappointments, and expectations that plagued adults.

  Resisting the temptation to over prepare him for the meeting with his father, Maggie had spent the morning sending warning looks at Bri and answering Colt’s excited questions. Maggie pointed. “He’s waiting in the stable.”

  Boone sauntered to the barn door and leaned against the frame, looking every inch the deadly gunslinger, dressed in a black leather vest and black cowboy hat.

  The ribbons on her blue velvet bonnet fluttered wildly on the gusting wind. The storm that was Boone incited all her worst instincts. What was wrong with her? One look from him would make a roomful of spinsters faint, whereas she wanted to rush into the full force of the tempest.

  “His guns are pretty,” Colt said, in awe.

  Bri took hold of his hand. “Those aren't toys. Promise me you will stay far, far away from real guns.”

  Colt nodded. “Is his hat a real cowboy hat?”

  Bri shaded her eyes. “He doesn’t look overly friendly.”

  “He’s probably thinking the same about you,” Maggie said, brow damp with a cold sweat as she led Colt and Bri to the stable.

  The smell of hay and manure wafted from the stall-lined barn. Horses’ heads bobbed above slat gates. A barn cat scurried away.

  Colt pulled free, stuck his head inside the doorway, and searched the barn. “Where’s Jack?”

  Boone’s lips quirked with what might have been a smile. “Garrett and Seth will be along with Jack shortly. I thought you and I would say howdy first.”

  Colt stuffed his hands in his pockets and, rocking on his heels, turned curious eyes on Boone. “I’m Colt.”

  Boone tipped his hat. “I’m Boone.”

  Colt grinned. “Just like me, Mama. Colt Boone Haven.”

  Her heart tangled with love, pride, and trepidation. She met Boone’s eyes. “I named you for your father.”

  Face unreadable, Boone cleared his throat. “Colt’s a fine name.”

  A tall, black stallion neighed and tossed his head.

  Startled, Colt hugged Maggie’s leg, but quickly recovered. “Can I ride the big horse?”

  “What happened to your manners?” Bri scolded.

  Maggie winced. “Please allow me to introduce, Brigetta Lyndtz, Colt’s nanny.”

  “The boy didn’t do no harm,” Boone said, rolling compact, muscular shoulders. “Cowboys don’t pay heed to fancy-like etiquette.”

  Blond braids piled crown-like on her head, Bri gave Boone an indignant look worthy of a Swedish princess. “Colt is not a cowboy.”

  Colt danced in place, trying to step on his shadow. “I want to be a cowboy.”

  Bright color flooded Bri’s face. “Cowboys are all big louts. And smelly and—”

  “Brigetta,” Maggie said, aghast, sensible to Boone’s sharp look, even if Bri wasn’t.

  The stubborn girl’s brow puckered. “You wouldn’t want a cowboy for a son”

  Maggie felt the weight of Boone’s stare. She admired the toughness and independence of cowboys and ranchers. A fact especially true of one particular cowboy. She hoped her face wasn’t as red as Bri’s. “Colt could do far worse.”

  The tense lines crossing Boone’s face smoothed.

  “Can we pat the horses?” Colt asked.

  “I’ve been promising him a horse ride,” Maggie said by way of an apology. “He won’t be distracted by anything else.”

  Boone squatted so he was at eye level with Colt. “Would you like to ride a pony? Black Lightning is mighty spirited.”

  “I like black horses,” Colt said.

  Boone’s mouth curved upward. “We best ask your mother’s permission first.”

  Colt glanced up at her with a hopeful face. “Please, can I ride my daddy’s horse?”

  My daddy. Maggie’s eyes misted. Fearless and friendly. That’s what her mother used to say about her. She almost wished Colt shared Boone’s cautious nature. “How wonderful.”

  Squirming with excitement, Colt cupped his hand to Boone’s ear and whispered something.

  Boone nodded and slid his wide-brimmed hat onto Colt’s head. “A real cowboy needs a Stetson.”

  The hat dwarfed Colt’s head. He smiled wide. “When I get big like you, Daddy, the hat will fit good.”

  “Is that so?” Boone said, his voice rough. “Stay here and I’ll go saddle Lightning.” Boone retreated to a stall at the far end of the stable, brushing a sleeve across his face.

  Dust must have gotten in his eyes. The gleam she saw couldn’t be tears.

  “At least, my dumpling will get his horse ride,” Bri said.

  Colt asked a babble of questions.

  Answering him, Maggie breathed a sigh of relief at the promising start.

  Three-quarters of an hour later she smiled up at Colt as Boone led the black stallion back into the stable. “Is your face tired from grinning ear to ear?”

  Colt giggled. “Daddy says I can ride Lightning again tomorrow.”

  Boone lifted Colt out of the saddle and set him on the hay-strewn floor. “Your mother and I need to talk first.”

  Maggie pulse leaped. “I’ve booked passage on the stagecoach to Buffalo.”

  Boone stroked the horse’s nose, but the casual gesture didn’t match the intensity pulsing from him. “I’ll get you a refund.”

  “Refund? Why?”

  Jack’s happy bark echoed through the barn. He bounded to them. Two young cowboys followed in his tracks.

  “Jack, Jack, Jack,” Colt said, bouncing with joy. The dog returned the welcome by licking Colt’s face.

  “We missed you too,” Maggie said, patting Jack’s yellow fur. Jack wheeled around, and tailing wagging faster than a wind-whipped flag, he brushed against her skirt.

  Boone patted the Jack’s rear haunch. “I told you they were fine.”

  Colt stared with open curiosity at the two newcomers. “Who are you?”

  But the young men were engrossed with Brigetta.

  Bri skewered them with a disdainful look. “Stop staring like I’m a circus elephant or I’ll box your ears.”

  Embarrassed, the pair shuffled in place and mumbled apologies.

  Maggie hurried to their defense. “I’m sure we can offer a friendlier welcome, after they were kind enough to watch after Jack.”

  “Jack has better manners than they do,” Bri said with asperity.

  Boone actually smiled. “These clodhoppers are Garrett and Seth.”

  “Garrett here is dying to know if the young lady is married,” the blond-headed one said, smirking at Garrett’s discomfort.

  Garrett nudged Seth in the ribs, then tipped his white cowboy hat. “Ignore him, ma’am.”

  “Nanny Bri thinks cowboys are bad,” Colt said, conversationally.

  A touch of color bloomed on Bri’s cheeks, exposing the rose birthmark. “I’m sure there must be some fine cowboys out there, somewhere.”

  Maggie blinked. Bri didn’t blush and she was seldom conciliatory.

  Boone moved to Colt and rested his hands on his small shoulders. “Boys, say howdy to my son Colt and his mother Miss Margaret Lily.”

  “Maggie Haven,” she said automatically.

  Boone’s gaze darkened.

  He could dislike it all he wanted, but it was the truth. “My friends call me Maggie.”

  Garrett and Seth shook Colt’s hand and cast curious looks her way.

  The sound of horses nickering and moving about their stalls filled the awkward silence.

  Boone’s black eyes remained fixed on her. “Boys, take Miss Lyndtz and Colt for walk while I have a private word with Mrs. Haven.”

  Bri looped her arm around Maggie’s elbow. “I would sooner abandon Miss Maggie to wolves.”

  M
aggie’s throat tightened, even as her insides churned in anticipation. Why did the thought of running with wolves excite and enliven? Why did she find dangerous men so devastatingly attractive? She freed her arm and inhaled a steadying breath. “Go with Garrett and Seth. There’s no need to worry.”

  Bri narrowed her eyes at Boone. “Be nice or I’ll—”

  “Bri, I’m confident I can manage without your help,” Maggie interrupted, adoring Bri for her fierce loyalty, but mindful the zeal was paired with a temper that often got the best of the protective girl’s good sense.

  Boone rubbed his neck. “I know what a stickler you are for manners, Miss Lyndtz. I’ll be sure to mind my mine.”

  Bri took hold of Colt’s hand. “See that you do, Mr. Haven.”

  Seth chuckled. “I like you already, Miss Lyndtz.”

  “They grow ‘em all feisty where you come from, Miss Lyndtz?” Garrett asked, a hint of teasing and admiration in his voice.

  Head held high, Bri swept past Garrett and Seth and exited the stable with Colt.

  “If I were you I’d allow Bri’s bad mood to cool before speaking to her,” Maggie advised Garrett and Seth.

  Garrett’s bashful eyes met hers. “Will five minutes do?”

  Maggie feared the young cowboys were in for an interesting walk. “She’s really not fond of cowboys. It might be best to follow at a safe distance.”

  Seth clapped Garrett on the shoulder. “Na, she liked you. You’ll have her charmed in under fifteen minutes.”

  “Get going you two,” Boone said.

  Spurs jangling, they headed for the door.

  “Come on, Jack,” Seth called over his shoulder.

  Jack trotted after them. Pausing in the doorway he looked back at Boone.

  Boone gripped the leather straps of Black Lightning’s bridle. “Go on, dog. Keep an eye on Colt. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Jack bounded away.

  A chill shiver tingled down Maggie’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold draft blowing through the doors open on either end of the barn. Questions churned through her mind, not helping her jittery nerves. “Why did you say you would get a refund for the stagecoach tickets?”

  “We can talk while I unsaddle my horse,” Boone said, with annoying calm, leading Black Lightning toward the back stalls.

  Gathering her courage, she followed. “I’m not leaving Wyoming without a divorce.”

  Boone walked the horse into a chest-high horse box and snapped the wooden gate closed. “So you’ve said. But first I want the rest of my family to meet Colt and have my son spend a few days visiting Sweet Creek Ranch.”

  She braced her hands on the gate. “You accept that Colt is your son?”

  His movements graceful and competent, he removed Black Lightning’s bridle, hung it on a peg, and glanced back at her. “A man would have to be blind to miss the resemblance. Even if he didn’t look like me, I believed you after hearing you speak of him and watching you with him. It’s plain Colt is the most important thing to you in the world. You might lie about other things, but not him.”

  She flinched at the slap, but swallowed her pride. What was it to her if his trust in her ended with Colt? Her hurt feelings were beside the point. “You are good with him. Thank you.”

  “Do you need to be thanked for being a good mother?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Same here.” Loosening the saddle cinch-strap, Boone hefted the saddle and draped it over the railing. “Sweet Creek is a day or two ride from Buffalo. We’ll stay at the ranch for a week, then we can go rustle up a judge.”

  “Slow down. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

  He peered at her over the horse’s back. “I don’t see that you have much choice. If you want that divorce.”

  Her spine stiffened. “I won’t be bullied.”

  He glared back. “I want to spend more time with my son.”

  “I’ll shoot you in the foot, if you allow Colt to become attached, then decide you don’t have room in your life for him.”

  He stalked around the horse. “I won’t abandon my son.”

  She’d have better success guessing at the path of a tornado than predicting what the future held if she consented to Boone’s demand. The urge to flee hummed through her blood, but stood her ground. “Will Brigetta and I be welcomed at the ranch? I won’t be separated from Colt.”

  “I want my family to meet Colt. It’s as simple as that. I would never try to separate you from Colt.”

  The assurance went a long way to swaying her. What father wouldn’t want more time with his son? And Colt deserved more than fleeting memories of his father. But nothing about Boone Haven or this was simple. If she wasn’t guided by Colt’s best interests and a desire to seek a legal end to the marriage, she would bolt as far as she could from Boone’s overwhelming presence. “I don’t suppose the stagecoach goes through Sweet Creek?”

  The hard lines etching his face softened. “Not hardly. I’ll hire horses. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

  She curled her fingers in her fashionable, narrow-cut, blue silk skirt. “I didn’t come prepared to ride horseback. But, between Bri and me, I’m sure we can make alterations and come up with something suitable to wear.”

  His gaze skimmed her body, and awareness flashed between them. He plucked up a horse brush and went to work grooming Black Lightning’s mane. “I’ll hire a horse team and wagon.”

  She fanned her face. Two weeks in close proximity to Boone. How would she survive? “Will it take long to reach the ranch?”

  “We’ll stop overnight at Garrett’s homestead. It’s rough around the edges, but better than sleeping in the open.”

  Colt’s sweet laugh echoed through the barn. “Mama, I picked flowers for you.” Eager to escape the suffocating confines of the stable, she edged backward. “Bri is going to hate every minute of the trip, but Colt will be thrilled.”

  Boone dug in his pocket, pulled out a bandanna rounded with carrot nubs, and fed a handful to Black Lightning. Then his eyes met hers. “What’s best for Colt is what matters most.”

  Thank goodness they agreed on this point. She prayed the jittery reaction she had when he looked her way would pass. Otherwise she was in for a rough couple of weeks.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Early the next day Boone scanned Aurora’s ramshackle perimeters. Flat gray clouds hung overhead. Cowpokes ambled in and out of the Rawhide and Wagon Wheel Saloons. Old Ben swept the porch of the Last Chance Trading Post. Two homesteader families worn down by another long winter huddled together on the train platform, preparing to make a new start in California.

  Satisfied all was safe, Boone held open the door of Johnson’s Boardinghouse for Margaret, Brigetta, and Colt. Garrett followed them, lugging a pair of bulky travel cases. Seth and Buck Goodman stood watch over the rented horses and wagon. Jack ran up the porch stairs, tail wagging in greeting.

  Never staying in one spot for long and traveling light, Boone was tempted to ask the Lady Margaret Lily if she’d packed her whole wardrobe. “Do you need a hand with the bags?” he asked Garrett.

  Garrett grinned. “Nope. Miss Brigetta nearly stomped on my foot when I insisted on carrying both bags. But, she sure is pretty when she’s riled.”

  Boone squeezed Garrett’s shoulder and glanced at the tall, blond-headed girl, busy watching over Colt and Jack’s noisy reunion. “She also hates cowboys.”

  “She only thinks she does,” Garrett said, a determined glint in his eyes.

  Colt danced back to them and slipped his small hand into Boone’s hand. “Daddy, can I ride on Black Lightning again?”

  Daddy. Something suspiciously like tears stung at Boone’s eyes. Blast it. If he kept choking up every time Colt called him Daddy, folks would rename him the Cowboy Crybaby. He cleared his throat. “That’s up to your mother.”

  Colt’s face lit. “Mama doesn’t care if I get dirty and smell like a horse. Do you, Mama?”

  “He will
talk your ear off,” Margaret said, waiting for them on the top stair, motherly concern clouding her eyes. This couldn’t be easy for her. She was trusting him to do right by Colt. She didn’t lack for bravery. Boone had to give her that.

  Painfully aware that his time with Colt and family was a brief break from his life of self-imposed solitude, Boone tipped his Stetson with his free hand. “The company will do me good.”

  Jack loped down the stairs, raced to the wagon and, wriggling with happiness, welcomed more attention from Seth and Buck.

  Brigetta whisked ahead and gave orders to Garrett on the loading of the travel cases into the wagon. Garrett whispered something in her ear. Her mouth dropped open briefly. Blushing, she turned her back on him, and refusing Seth and Buck’s help she scrambled onto the wagon bench. Garrett hooked his thumbs in his pockets and grinned as though he’d lassoed a feisty filly.

  Men outnumbered women ten to one in Wyoming. Garrett was ready to wrangle himself up a bride. Young and hopeful, he wasn’t going to give up easily. Wishing him the best of luck with Brigetta Lyndtz, Boone joined Seth and Buck.

  “Can I offer you a hand, ma’am?” Buck, said, eying Margaret Lily with more than a little interest and appreciation. Buck wasn’t alone. Every cowboy in town had stopped what they were doing to ogle the two pretty women.

  “I’ll assist Miss Lily,” Boone said, bristling.

  Margaret’s chin rose. “Please call me Maggie, Mr. Goodman.”

  Seth wore his perpetual smirk. “Would you rather me and the boys call you Miss Lily or Mrs. Haven?”

  Maggie flinched.

  “Save your antagonism for me,” Boone growled, no less shocked now than when he’d first learned she’d taken his name.

  Seth ducked his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Garrett was wondering the same thing.”

  Margaret smoothed her flawless upswept hair. “My schoolchildren call me Miss Maggie.”

  “I didn’t mean no disrespect, Miss Maggie,” Seth mumbled.

  Buck joined Brigetta on the wagon’s narrow bench. “I like your gumption, Maggie. You’re a teacher you say?”