A hand touched her arm, making her start. “Bri, I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“You are jumpy as an alley cat,” Brigetta said, studying her closely, then pointed to Ella and Ty, conferring near the cottonwood tree. “Ty is going to ride over to Buck and Sally Goodman’s place to see what’s keeping them. I was remarking over how cowboys watch out for one another. Still, I don’t know how Ella puts up with a whole houseful of them.”
Maggie clutched her new blue gingham dress, cut in the same comfortable style as Ella’s. She admired the strength and courage of frontier women like Ella and Ugly Sally, but couldn’t picture herself as a ranch wife. “I feel like a fraud. I don’t know what I was thinking, asking Ella to fashion me a prairie dress.”
Bri sat on the wooden bench and pulled Maggie down beside her, not letting go of her hand. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or am I going to have to seduce it from you?”
“Oh, Bri, I do adore you,” Maggie said, too tied up in knots to bother correcting Bri. “Boone and I decided not to divorce, but my skin feels tight, like I’m going to explode every time I imagine myself married to an ex-gunslinger.”
Bri’s brows rose. “Ex-gunslinger?”
A watery laugh burbled up. Maggie despaired she was becoming her mother, whose moods always veered sharply up and down. “Boone offered to move to New York City or San Francisco. Have you ever heard of anything more generous and thoughtful?”
“Boone, living in a city?” Bri said, astonished. “He has too much cowboy in him for that. I can see him prowling your little apartment like one of those lions at the zoo.”
Maggie’s eyes went to Colt and Little Malcolm exclaiming excitedly and crawling on hands and knees, intent on capturing a leaping frog. Colt had been puzzled over Maggie repeatedly hugging him and telling him she loved him in the wake of learning what Boone’s life had been like at Colt’s age. Her stomach sickened. How could a father treat his own child in such a vile manner? Words she’d found chilling upon first hearing them—Anyone I shot deserved killing—sounded less cold-hearted in this new light. Boone could have turned hateful. Instead he’d dedicated his life to protecting and rescuing the weak and powerless.
But Bri had a point. Boone was ill-suited to city life. Some men are good at accounting, or farming, or shop keeping. I’m deadly good with a gun. “Colt will be thrilled when I tell him his daddy and Jack will make their home with us. But the air backs up in my lungs every time I consider it. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing.”
“What about your kindergarten teaching job?”
Maggie bit her lip. “I don’t know. We didn’t discuss it.”
Bri grimaced, her crown of blond braids making her look as fierce as a Viking shield maiden. “I’ll clobber him with a frying pan if he ruins all your hard work to become a teacher.”
A shadow fell over them. “Is something wrong?” Boone asked, face clouded with concern.
Bri’s chin rose in a defiant manner. “Ja. My poor pudding is having another thought about you and marriage.”
Though relieved to have the truth out, Maggie hated hurting Boone. She’d agreed too hastily last night. The lovely moonlight and wild wind must be to blame for her starry-eyed visions of wedded bliss. They’d lived such different lives. They’d never suit. “Bri’s correct. I am having second thoughts, which isn’t fair to you, after you believed everything was settled.” She wouldn’t blame him if he accused her of being a tease or a difficult woman.
The blue vein under his left eye stood out in vivid relief against his pale cheek. “Brigetta, would you give us a few moments?”
Bri stood. “You might want to forget you’re the Cowboy Assassin. But others won’t.” Giving Boone a final challenging look, she marched off to stand guard over Colt and Little Malcolm.
Boone took Bri’s place. All compact muscle and restrained power, his presence consumed the breathable air. “And here I thought Brigetta was warming up to me, despite me being a no-good cowboy.”
“Bri is protective,” Maggie apologized. “Thank you for making light. She shouldn’t have said that.”
Boone scrubbed his face. “She calls a spade a spade. Can’t fault her for that. I was so wrapped up in what I wanted I willfully overlooked the problems my being the Cowboy Assassin would cause you.”
“I don’t think of you that way. I don’t like that name.”
“I’m not very fond of it myself.”
Her agitation increased in direct portion to his calm. “The gossip is bound to catch up with us. I’m selfishly worried it will keep me from finding a teaching position.”
He stroked her shoulder, his touch tender and loving. “I won’t steal your dream. You will be a teacher. You have my promise.”
Tears stung at her eyes. “Thank you for understanding how important this is to me.”
“Nothing would make me prouder than to have a schoolteacher wife.”
“But where would we go? You’re famous.”
“Infamous is more like it,” he said, glancing away. Then his intent eyes searched hers. “San Francisco might be far enough to work.”
She fought the urge to bolt, shifted against the unease skittering up and down her spine. What was wrong with her? “What about Aurora? Ty and Ella talked of the town building a school. I could teach. You could become the sheriff.”
Face grave, Boone nodded. “Aurora is one of the few places where my reputation works in my favor. But you’d have kids of all ages, not just those in kindergarten.”
Why was she fighting this? Fighting him? The sights and sounds of sturdy westerners carving a home out of the wilderness ought to comfort. The West was a place for making a new start. For dreaming. For grasping opportunity. “I want to be a teacher. The age of the students doesn’t matter.”
“But what?” Boone asked. “I can hear your hesitation.” His body had tensed, but his voice remained gentle.
She almost wished he would rage at her. Give her an excuse to reject him. Heat rushed to her face. Why would she think such a thing? “I need a few days to get used to the idea.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, darling. Take all the time you need.”
Fluttery fear churned through her. But why? Where was her courage?
Tucker ran up to them, three wooden dowels bulging his small fist. “Mr. Wyatt taught Juan how to make pegs. Mr. Wyatt said I can learn too, when I’m older.”
Maggie welcomed the respite.
Boone made a show of studying the dowels. “Garrett is going to have himself a sturdy barn.”
Colt appeared at Boone’s knee. Little Malcolm toddled close behind. “Can I help build the barn, Daddy?”
Tucker frowned. “You’re too—”
“I’m going to be a rancher when I grow up,” Colt said, enthusiastically.
“Me too,” Little Malcolm said, squeezing in between the other two boys.
Tucker tapped on Boone’s knee to gain his share of attention. “I’m gonna build a horse ranch.”
Boone patted all three of their heads. “Spoken like true Haven men. Let’s go find a hammer. I know Garrett will be right proud to say the next generation of Havens helped with the barn raising.”
The boys hopped in place and clapped. Boone’s eyes met hers. “We’ll find a way to make it work.”
She massaged her constricted throat. “You make it sounds so easy.”
“I’m stubborn. That’s the prob—”
“Mr. Boone,” Tucker interrupted, pointing in the direction of a white and brown horse loping toward them, carrying an Indian warrior. “Tell Colt and Miss Margaret they don’t have to be afraid of White Wolf.”
Colt’s face screwed. “I’m not afraid.”
Waist-length hair swirling on the air, White Wolf rode up to the barn in a ball of dust. “I came across a cattle detective with a posse of men heading to Buck and Ugly Sally’s. They plan to hang Buck and Sally for horse thieving.”
Bo
one burst to his feet. “Horse thieving? That’s a load of crock.”
Ty, Wyatt, Garrett, and the other second-chance boys gathered around White Wolf. Jack and Millie, hackles bristling and growling ominously, wound in-and-out around the men.
White Wolf’s eyes were as fierce as a hurricane. “I went by Buck and Ugly Sally’s to warn them, but their ranch was already surrounded by Blackwell’s men.”
Outrage was followed by calls to ride to Buck and Sally’s rescue.
Maggie rose, queasy at the fierceness radiating from Boone. Her hand brushed over the cold metal of the Peacemaker, before settling on his rigid arm. She wanted to beg Boone not to get involved. But he wasn’t a man to sit idle in the face of injustice. And neither were his brothers. They’d been raised to watch over and help their friends and neighbors.
“The Arkansas Kid might be setting a trap” Her voice sounded weak to her ears. “He can’t wait to brag over killing the Cowboy Assassin.”
Boone’s arms circled her. “I won’t allow the Arkansas Kid to add me to his trophy case. I will come back to you and Colt.” Brushing her cheek with a kiss, he joined his brothers.
Brigetta clasped Colt’s hand to keep him from following. “You stay right here, dumpling.”
“Dumpling Colt,” Tucker said, laughing and racing after Boone.
Colt scuffed the dirt with his new pointed boot. “I’m Cowboy Colt, not Dumpling Colt.”
“Hush, my love,” Maggie said, hugging her middle. Trepidation reverberating like a second pulse, she watched the Haven men rounding up their horses and checking their weapons.
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Colt said, voice brimming with innocence. “Daddy will beat the bad men.”
“We need to say a prayer for your daddy and uncles and the second-chance boys,” she said, but found no comfort.
Force of will couldn’t stop a hail of bullets. Good did not necessarily overcome evil. Fathers and husbands didn’t always come home to their children and wives.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lightning set a fast pace for the other horses, but the hour journey between Garrett’s ranch and Buck and Ugly Sally’s place seemed to last an eternity. Boone clutched the reins tighter, concerned at the lack of gunfire as they neared the couple’s homestead ranch. The silence couldn’t be good. Buck and Ugly Sally would have put up a fight, but they must have run out of ammunition or been overpowered by Blackwell’s men.
Boone pulled to a stop out of range of the twenty gunmen guarding Buck and Ugly Sally. The couple stood beneath a cottonwood with their hands tied behind their backs, two nooses twirling in lazy circles in the foreground.
“We’re mighty happy to see you boys,” Buck called, his trademark bravado undermined by the quivery delivery of the quip.
Faces lined with grim determination, Ty, Wyatt, Garrett, Ox, Seth, and Billy formed a defensive line on either side of Boone, steadying their skittish horses as they took aim at the opposing gunmen.
Blackwell’s men squinted against the sun.
“I’ve got my sights on Ty,” the Double B foreman, Amos Little, called out.
“I have Wyatt,” another ranch hand shouted.
“Who’s got Boone?” Amos asked, eyes shifting nervously.
The Arkansas Kid stepped out in front of the posse, his twin Smith & Wessons pointed at Boone. “The Cowboy Assassin is mine.”
Seth swung his gun toward the Arkansas Kid. “Make a wrong move and I’ll blast a hole through you.”
Boone worked to keep his voice even. “Let me do the talking, kid.”
The Arkansas Kid wagged his brows. “You grease pots best sit tight while we hang us a couple of horse thieves.”
Agony burned a hole in Boone’s gut. A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about sacrificing his life for Buck, Ugly Sally, and his brothers. He hadn’t had anything to lose or anyone depending on him. He didn’t want to die. Not now. Maggie would raise Colt to be a fine man; he had no worry on that count. But, blast it, he wanted to be there with her, to share in the joy and pride of watching their son grow.
He shook away the distracting thoughts and concentrated on the perfectly balanced Peacemaker gripped in his hands. He pressed his legs into Lightning’s sides, encouraging the stallion to advance a few paces. “It don’t seem right to spoil such a fine day by hanging Buck and Ugly Sally.”
The jest earned a sprinkle of nervous laughter from Blackwell’s men.
The Arkansas Kid stalked forward. “They was caught red-handed with horses that went missing from Mr. Blackwell’s ranch.”
“We didn’t steal no horses,” Buck said, struggling against the ropes binding his hands.
Ugly Sally nodded her big nose at the Arkansas Kid. “He must have put them in our barn.”
The Arkansas Kid’s eyes were as cold as the coon staring sightless from his cap. “Mr. Blackwell’s horses were mingled in with the dozen calves you rustled from him. Do you deny rustling the cattle?”
“You can’t prove our brand wasn’t stamped on the calves first,” Ugly Sally spit back.
The Arkansas Kid shrugged. “You grease pots are dumb as stumps. You just admitted you stole from Mr. Blackwell.”
Buck’s face contorted with rage. “We took back what was rightfully ours.”
Boone didn’t take his eyes of the Arkansas Kid “Wyatt, do you recall that longhorn we came across a few years back? The poor bull must have had a dozen different brands.”
Wyatt’s carefree laugh had been replaced with a gruff grunt. “Mr. Blackwell’s Double B brand accounted for a trio of the crossed-out brands.”
“I suppose you have a point?” the Arkansas Kid asked in a bored tone.
Sweat trickled down Boone’s back. “You know as well as we do, cattle rustling gets winked at, but horse thieves hang. I’m curious. Does Blackwell know about you stringing up Buck and Ugly Sally? They are well liked in Aurora, known as hard-working ranchers and good people.”
The Arkansas Kid’s eyes narrowed. “Gabbing ain’t going to save them. Amos, get the Goodmans up on the horses and loop the ropes around their necks.”
“Hold on, Amos,” Boone said. “Are you sure Beau Blackwell’s cattle detective is acting in the best interest of the Double B?”
The foreman shifted in place. “I don’t see any harm in putting off the hanging until Mr. Blackwell can come up from Cheyenne.”
The Arkansas Kid cocked his Smith & Wessons. “Blackwell hired me to do a job. I mean to see this through.”
“Do what you want,” Amos said, color flooding his face. “But you won’t get help from me and my men.”
The Arkansas Kid scratched his cheek with the barrel of the gun as he stared down Blackwell’s men. “Don’t tell me you are all as gutless as Amos. Mr. Blackwell will reward you handsomely. I’m sure he will.”
Bird chirp filled an uncomfortable silence.
“You lost,” Boone said. “Give up.”
The Arkansas Kid locked eyes with Boone and his mouth curved with a smile. “My gang took their time getting here, but they are about to prove you wrong.”
Boone twisted around in the saddle and was greeted with an explosion of gunfire. A bullet slammed into him, almost knocking him off Lightning.
The only pain he suffered came at the thought of never seeing Maggie and Colt again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Maggie paced beside the plank table. The falling sun draped the skeletal barn in a blanket of blood orange. Stillness ruled. The lack of a breeze, or so much as a gentle stirring the air, after days and days of unending wind, unnerved. Why the sudden calm?
Clutching her stomach, she made another circuit around the cottonwood tree, and halted next to Ella and the sleeping babies. “Can I get you more water or a bite to eat?”
Ella shook her head. “The men should be back anytime.”
“Mama, look,” Colt called from the sand pile next to Garrett’s cabin, clapping the dirt from his hands. “I made a train with an engine and
a caboose and everything.”
Bri and Juan sat on the nearby steps, supervising the construction of the rock and stick hotels, dry goods store, and livery stable. The boys were sweaty with play. Jack and Millie remained faithfully by their side, eyes and ears continually on alert.
“It’s going to take a week to scrub them clean,” Ella said with motherly chagrin. “Colt certainly has taken well to ranch life.”
Maggie couldn’t disagree. “You’d think he was in heaven from the joy on his face when cleaning the horse stalls, feeding the chickens and collecting eggs, and planting seeds in your vegetable garden. He’s going to find our quaint apartment boring by comparison.”
Ella tucked the blankets tighter around the twins. “I remember how dangerous and untamed the West felt when I first arrived. And a houseful of rowdy cowboys does take getting used to. But strong women do well here. I’ve seen women ranch owners, saloon matrons, and storekeepers.”
Maggie wanted to hug Ella for understanding how difficult the last weeks had been for her. “And lady bounty hunters. That made quite a stir in St. Louis.”
Approval shined in Ella’s eyes. “You have spunk. That’s good. Boone needs a woman who’s not afraid to stand up to him.”
“He says he will move to New York or San Francisco, but…”
Ella nodded in empathy. “But you can’t imagine Boone hanging up his spurs for city life.”
“Can you imagine me living in Aurora?”
“I can. Boone would see you have a pretty schoolhouse and the parents and children would love their new teacher.”
“You sound as optimistic as Boone.”
Ella touched baby Viola’s curled hand. “You can be whatever you want in the West. If starting over is what you’re after.”
Boone and Bri and Ella said she was strong, but Maggie felt vulnerable and afraid. “You’re giving me a lot to think about.”
“Being married to Boone won’t make for a quiet life. Is a quiet life what you want?”
Maggie bit her lip and glanced about, eager to escape the uncomfortable questions.
Bri sailed over to her rescue. “You have the look of a calf skating across ice. I’m worn out just watching you.”
Gunslingers Don't Die: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 2) Page 10