As Gilson cursed and obeyed the sheriff’s orders, Noah knelt beside Emma, gathering her to him. He tried to control his rage. As she began to rebutton her blouse, he bit back his curses.
“Sean,” she whispered. “We need to help Sean.”
“Where is he?” Noah asked.
“On the other side of the bed.”
“Wait here.”
Noah could not silence his oaths when he saw the boy sprawled on the floor. Lifting him carefully, he turned to lock eyes with Gilson, who had not moved. Did his enemy realize that the only thing keeping Noah from ridding the world of his miserable hide was the fact that he did not want Emma to witness it?
When Gladys had burst into the telegraph office with Belinda in tow, Noah had been horrified to learn Emma had gone to stop Sean from trying to destroy the proof that Gilson had legal custody of his sister’s daughter. Fury at her foolishness had mixed with fear for her at Gilson’s hands. Before he could call Lewis into the telegraph office, Mrs. Riley had rushed up to the sheriff with her concerns. He and Lewis had left the women, Belinda, and the telegraph operator to stare after them as they raced to the hotel, hoping they would not be too late. Getting a key from the box in Mrs. Riley’s private rooms, they had come up the stairs and into the room to see Gilson strike Emma.
He gritted his teeth as he placed Sean on the wrinkled covers of the bed that revealed what had happened. He brushed plaster dust from the boy’s face. He looked up and saw the hole in the ceiling.
“Mrs. Riley was right to send for you, Lewis,” he said as he reached down to help Emma to her feet. “It must be against the law to fire off a gun in a hotel.”
Gilson sneered, “If it is, then the kid should be arrested. He tried to shoot me. She witnessed that.”
“He didn’t fire the gun!” Emma cried. “It went off by mistake when you hit him.”
“Hush, Emma,” Noah replied. “Let Lewis handle this, as I told you he would.”
She did not lower her eyes. “Noah—” She rushed to Sean when the little boy moaned and opened his eyes. “No, don’t move yet,” she said, sitting and cradling him against her.
Gilson laughed. “Are you too scared to face me alone, Sawyer? First you send that harlot you call your wife. Then you bring the law to accuse me of a crime I didn’t commit.”
“Maybe you didn’t fire the gun, but rape is a crime in this state.”
“Rape?” He laughed again. “She was willing.”
“Is that why you beat her?”
“She likes it rough. Maybe you should try it.”
Again Noah had to restrain his longing to reach for Gilson’s throat and throttle every bit of life from him.
Before he could reply, Lewis said, “Noah doesn’t take the law here in Haven lightly, Gilson. He respects it, as you’re going to learn to do.” He poked at the man with his rifle again. “C’mon. We’re going to go and see Judge Purchase.”
“If this is how you hope to be rid of me, Sawyer,” Gilson snarled, “let me tell—”
“Let me tell you,” interrupted Noah, “that the only reason I brought Sheriff Parker is because I didn’t trust myself not to flay the skin from you.”
“Let’s go,” Lewis said. Pausing in the door, he smiled coldly. “Emma, Noah’s still under arrest, so you’ll make sure he gets back to your house, won’t you?”
“Yes.” She looked up at Noah, but quickly away when he frowned at her.
Picking up Sean again, Noah said, “You heard the sheriff. Let’s get out of here.”
No one stopped them as they went to Emma’s quiet house, but Noah did not fool himself into thinking that the peace would remain long. Mrs. Riley jumped to her feet as they walked up onto the porch. Cooing at Sean, she stared at Emma, who assured the innkeeper she was not hurt. Mrs. Riley mumbled something and rushed back to her hotel.
When Gladys put her apron over her mouth to hold in her soft cry of dismay while she followed them into the house, Noah said, “Send for the doctor.”
“Is she—”
“Sean needs to be checked.” He started up the stairs, then asked, “Where’s Belinda?”
“Taking a nap.”
“Take him to my room,” Emma said, “and I’ll get some cool water to put on his bruises.”
“Mrs. Sawyer,” Gladys replied, “you need to be tending to yourself, too.”
When Emma put her hand to her reddened cheek, Noah saw her wince, but she said, “I’ll be fine. Sean was hit much harder.”
He recognized her stubborn tone, and Gladys must have, too, because she hurried out the door to get the doctor. He carried Sean up the stairs and placed him on the bed. Stepping back, he watched as Emma came into the room with a bowl and some cloths. She set them on her dresser before she drew off the boy’s shoes and settled an extra blanket over him.
“Emma,” Sean whispered as she wrung out a cloth and put it on his scarlet cheek, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to—”
“We’ll talk about it later.” She glanced at Noah and again did not meet his eyes for more than a second. “You need to rest now. How do you feel?”
“My head aches.” Tears ran down his face, and he did not wipe them away. “I should have shot him.”
“Don’t say that,” she said softly.
“He can’t take Belinda away now, can he?”
“We’ll talk about that later.” She stiffened when the sound of the door opening came up the stairs.
“Wait here with him,” Noah said as he went out into the hallway to greet Doc Bamburger, who was so round that his bright red vest gave him the appearance of a well-fed robin with gold-rimmed glasses perched on its beak.
When the doctor went into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, Noah walked down the stairs. How much more could go wrong today? He had been a fool when he had thought not receiving an answer back to his desperate telegram would be the worst thing that could happen.
Someone knocked on the door as he was walking into the parlor. He turned, but Gladys motioned for him to stay where he was. Pulling the curtains in the windows that overlooked the porch, he sat. He was grateful to hear Gladys tell whoever was calling that no one could come to the door now and that the caller should return tomorrow. He lost count of the number of times she answered the door and repeated those words before the doctor came down the stairs.
Standing, Noah motioned for him to come into the parlor. Doc Bamburger set his black bag on the closest table and said, “I believe Emma keeps some brandy in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
The doctor was as good as his word, because he returned just as another knock came at the door. Pouring a generous serving into a glass, he handed it to Noah.
“Drink it. Doctor’s orders.” His smile was fleeting.
“How are they?”
“Sit down and drink up. The best prescription anyone has ever come up with.” The doctor sat on the sofa, which creaked a protest beneath his hefty weight. “Sit down, Noah. There’s nothing you can do for either of them just now.”
“Will they be all right?”
Doc Bamburger pushed his glasses up his narrow nose. “The boy was hit very hard. The blow may have been concussive. I’ve told Emma to keep him quiet for a week and keep putting cold cloths on his bruises when he complains of pain. A couple of his teeth are loose, but I suspect they’ll tighten themselves back into place.”
“And Emma?”
“Her cheek may bruise, too.” He hesitated, then said, “She refused to let me examine her otherwise.”
“That isn’t a surprise, but he didn’t have time to do more than strike her once.”
“He? What happened?”
Noah explained, leaving out the fact that Sean had taken a gun with him to Gilson’s hotel room.
The doctor’s face became as gray as Emma’s. He poured more brandy into another glass and downed it in a single gulp. Then he heaved himself to his feet. Opening his bag, he drew out some packets and put them on the table.
“If she swoons, you can mix this with some water and give it to her,” Doc Bamburger said.
“Swoon? Emma?” Noah shook his head as he came to his feet. “I can’t imagine her doing that.”
“You might be surprised. She’s a woman, and women are fragile.”
“If you’d seen her fighting him off, you wouldn’t use the word fragile to describe her.”
Quietly, from behind him, Emma said, “I didn’t have much choice.” As the doctor’s face reddened, she went on, “Thank you for coming so quickly. I’ll make sure someone is always with Sean until he’s more himself.”
“By tomorrow, you probably will find him eager to get back to playing with his friends.” The doctor chuckled. “It isn’t every day a boy gets to be such a hero.”
Emma glanced at him, but Noah said nothing as she bid the doctor a good day and saw him to the door. She closed the door so hastily behind the round man, Noah was not surprised to hear another knock. He frowned when he heard an echo from the kitchen. Someone was at the back door.
Going into the kitchen, he was astounded to see that it looked and smelled like a normal day. Chicken soup bubbled on the stove, and a loaf of bread was partially cut on the table. He opened the back door to see Alice Underhill’s strained face. He was about to explain that they were not receiving guests when Emma called to Alice to come in.
“She’s here to help watch over Sean,” Emma said, acting as if she had not noticed Alice’s shock when her friend saw the swelling on her face. “He’s upstairs in my room. If you’ll sit with him, Gladys can watch over Belinda and—” More knocking came from the front door. “And answer the door.”
Alice reached out toward her. “Emma—”
“Thank you for coming to sit with Sean,” she replied. “Noah, I know you and I need to talk.” She turned on her heel and went into the parlor.
“Who hit her so hard?” Alice shuddered as she stared after Emma in dismay. “Gladys asked me to come over to help with Sean, but she didn’t say Emma had been hurt, too. What happened?”
“She was protecting Sean.” He did not repeat the tale again. Alice soon would hear of it all, anyhow. He patted Alice’s shoulder, then followed Emma into the parlor. Closing the pocket doors, he pretended not to see Gladys’s consternation.
“I believe this is yours,” Emma said, handing him the glass that Doc Bamburger had filled with brandy.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Was this what she wanted? For them to act like strangers again?
“You have every right to be angry with me,” Emma said as she sat on the sofa. Her voice was as calm as if she were discussing the cost of a bag of flour.
He could not silence the fury bubbling up in him when he saw the vivid mark of Gilson’s hand on her cheek as she glanced toward the front windows when yet another knock came at the front door. Sitting in the rocking chair, he said, “You promised me you’d let me handle this and that you’d stay away from Gilson.”
“I promised you, as well, that I’d guard the children.” Her voice still had no emotion. “I know I shouldn’t have gone after him, but I thought I could stop Sean before he did something stupid.”
“And instead you did something stupid.”
“Stupid?” She gasped, her eyes widening with amazement. “I saved his life. Gilson would have killed him if I hadn’t been there to divert him.”
“Divert him?” He stood, unable to sit when his head was filled with the image of his enemy pressing Emma to the floor and lifting her skirt to reveal her slender legs. The resentment that had battered him each time he thought of her first husband was nothing compared with this jealous rage. He wished he could reach into his mind and tear out the memory of Gilson’s fingers on her. “Is a diversion what you call rape?”
Her composure cracked further as she whispered, “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? That was what he was attempting.” He shook his head. “Emma, when are you going to stop being so blasted foolish?”
“You keep calling me foolish, but was it foolish to try to save a child who depends on me?” She rose slowly. “Would you have stood by and done nothing if Belinda had been in such a perilous situation?”
“Belinda wouldn’t have gone to the hotel with a gun.” He cursed and took a drink of the brandy. It burned through him, but could not scorch away his fury. “Where did he get that?”
“From Jenny Anderson. The pistol belongs to her father. Sean told me he asked to borrow it when they were talking after church. He’d do anything he can to keep this family together.” She laughed with a bitterness he had never heard in her voice before. “But we aren’t a family, are we? Not a real one. You’re outraged at me for trying to save Sean because now you believe I’ve further compromised your attempts to keep Belinda.”
“You shouldn’t have gone after him as you did.”
“So I should have stayed here and let Gilson kill him?”
“You can’t be sure that would have happened.”
“No, I can’t be. Maybe I made matters worse going after him or maybe he’d be dead now if I’d remained here, afraid to do anything.” She closed her eyes, and when they opened again, they were filled with jeweled tears. “I thought you were different, Noah, but you aren’t any different, are you? You married me to get what you wanted, letting me think that you loved me.”
“Don’t be silly!”
“How many more times are you going to call me foolish and stupid and silly? The only thing I’ve done that was foolish and stupid and silly was believe that you love me.” She threw open the pocket doors and said, “But a promise is a promise, Noah. I’ll do what I can to help you keep Belinda from having to go with that horrible man.”
“Emma—”
“Don’t say anything you don’t mean.” She faced him, her tears now clinging to her eyelashes. “I’ll do as I promised, Noah. I’ll play your game that you really love me, and everyone outside this house will believe we are the happy family you need to persuade the judge to let you keep Belinda. Don’t worry. No one will suspect anything otherwise from me. Miles taught me how to live a lie.”
He put down the glass and crossed the foyer to grasp her by the shoulders before she could go up the stairs. “Emma, wait.”
She stiffened beneath his fingers as she asked, “And if I don’t, will you treat me as he did?”
He was not sure if she meant Gilson or her first husband. He lifted his hands away from her. When she went up the stairs, he heard a soft sob. Not from her, but from Gladys, who had been watching from beside the door. He knew he should say something to his housekeeper.
But what? He had known, from the moment he took the baby and left Chicago five years ago, that saving Belinda from Gilson would demand a great toll. He just had not guessed the greatest sacrifice would be Emma’s love.
CHAPTER TWENTY
They were coming. She could hear their voices—shouting, angry, lusting for vengeance. The familiar voices with such an unfamiliar fury.
She whirled. Escape. She must escape, or they would make her pay for the crime that was not hers. She had to leave.
Now … before it was too late.
The shooting at the bank was over, but the questions would now begin. And she had no answers. At least, none anyone would believe.
How could she have been so stupid? That question had been on everyone’s lips as soon as last week’s grim events became known. No one would listen to her. Even if a few people did, no one else would believe them. After all, how could she have been so stupid?
She had believed Miles when he said work was going well, that all their dreams would come true, that soon he would have enough money to take her on that honeymoon to St. Louis she had dreamed of when she found she loved him.
And she had believed he loved her.
Everything had been lies. There had been no work, and she had nothing left but nightmares.
Tears burned in the back of
her throat, but she refused to let them fall. Had Miles ever loved her, or had that been just another lie?
She had been a fool. Never again would she be such a fool.
Picking up the small carpetbag she had packed clandestinely, she looked around. Only the fire on the hearth lit the room. Yet she could see the quilt lying across the back of the battered settee, the tarnished candlesticks on the mantel, and the rag rug covering the uneven floor. She would never see any of these things again.
A fist struck the front door followed by a shout of, “Open the door!”
She took one step toward the back door, then another, hoping no shadow would reveal where she stood. Her breath snagged on the fear halting her heart.
“This is the sheriff. Open up, or we’ll take down the door.”
Time and hope and all her dreams had run out. She turned and pulled the quilt off the settee. Throwing its dark side over her shoulders, she fled through the kitchen and out into the night, far from the men milling around the front porch.
She had to leave.
Now … because it was too late.
Behind her, she heard, “She has to know.”
“How could she not know?” another voice asked.
“Only a fool wouldn’t have known.”
At that voice, which should not be here in Fort Pixton, Kansas, she stopped with her hand on the door knob. Turning, she saw a man standing in the door to the parlor. His hands were hidden behind his back. Not Miles, but Noah. No one in Fort Pixton would understand, but she had thought Noah would.
“Only a fool wouldn’t have known,” he repeated.
“Then I was a fool.” Her own voice was steady, even as her heart thumped with both yearning and fear that he would walk away from her forever. “I was young, and he was charming. He charmed people in the bank, and he charmed me. If I had been wiser then, I might have seen through his pretense.”
“Only a fool wouldn’t have known.” He drew his hands from behind his back. In them was a noose. Walking to her, he slipped it over her head. It dropped to rest on her shoulders. He reached to tighten it, but she caught his hands.
“I must be a fool,” she whispered as she lifted the noose from over her head, “for I fell in love with you.” Letting the rope fall to the ground, she put her hand up to touch his cheek. “And I cannot fall out of love with you.”
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