“That was very thoughtful of you.”
Once the coffee was boiling, Clay poured two cups and they sat at the table and ate some chicken.
“What did you think of Mrs. Winthrop?” Emma asked.
“She seemed like a nice woman,” Clay said.
“Wonder what she sees in Frank.”
Clay shook his head. He had to admit he’d wondered the same thing. “Maybe she needs companionship.”
Emma eyed Clay. While she admired him for trying to see the good in everyone, she hoped he didn’t have a blind side when it came to people who shouldn’t be trusted. “I think she has another purpose for Frank. I just can’t figure out what it is.”
Clay wanted to broach the subject of Leigh King, but he wanted to do it in a way that didn’t ruin their pleasant night. But he was determined to talk to Emma tonight while they were alone about what was important to him. He may not have another chance. “Emma, the prince all but confessed he intended to ask you to marry him.”
“He’s definitely taken me by surprise. I didn’t really think he was going to come to America. I guess he’s accustomed to having his way.”
Clay took a sip of his coffee, but his eyes remained on her face. He thought she looked beautiful in the firelight. He hadn’t really asked her if she was interested in marrying the prince, and she gave no indication as to her thoughts about him showing up in Denver. “He thinks very highly of you.”
Emma wanted to ask him what he thought about her.
Now was the time to find out what she wanted, Clay thought. Was he ready to tell her what he was feeling? He took a deep breath, and said, “I want to talk to you about Leigh King.”
“What?” Of all the things Emma wanted to talk about at the moment, Leigh King was at the bottom of the list.
Clay held up his hand and said, “Just hear me out. I know you think I have an interest in Mrs. King, but that’s not exactly the way it is. I wanted to explain why I seemed—taken with her.”
“You’re not only taken with her, you can’t seem to stay away from her,” Emma said testily.
“She looks exactly like my deceased wife,” he said quickly before she wouldn’t give him a chance to explain. He slowly expelled a deep breath, and he felt a portion of the burden he’d been carrying was finally released from his heart.
His statement took a moment to register in Emma’s brain, and when it did, she said, “You were married?”
Clay nodded. “We lived on our ranch in Kansas. Violet was my wife, whom I loved dearly, and we had a son.”
Emma realized he’d said deceased wife. “Where is your son?”
Clay explained what happened to his wife and son that day on his ranch. It seemed like yesterday he’d heard those shots in the air, yet the pain he’d carried had lasted an eternity. He stood and started pacing as he described the life he’d had with his wife and son.
Emma could see he was lost in his memories of the woman he loved more than life. She didn’t utter a sound, but she couldn’t stop the tears as his story unfolded.
He held nothing back from her, including how he’d hunted down the men who had killed his family. By the time he stopped talking, Emma felt as though her heart was torn in half.
“I’m so sorry.” Emma wiped her tears away. Whatever she said seemed so inadequate. “I didn’t know you had been through so much.”
“When I became a pastor, the one thing I learned is we all have pain in our lives. Some of us learn to live with it, some of us let it eat us alive. I did the former too long, until I came to my senses.”
“I’m glad you let go of your vendetta,” Emma whispered.
“The two men who killed my wife and son are the same two men the marshal is looking for,” Clay said. “I can’t in all honesty say I didn’t want to go with the marshal to track them down when he told me he was going to Purgatory Canyon. Even if I had joined him, I know I wouldn’t have killed them. I just wanted to see them for myself. I want justice for my family.”
“Of course you do. That’s understandable,” Emma said.
Clay sat back down next to her. “Emma, I loved Violet, and I guess I never thought I would feel that way again. I’m not certain I even wanted to feel that way again, mostly out of fear of losing another person I loved.”
“That’s understandable too.” Emma understood what he was saying, though she didn’t want to hear that he would never love again, particularly now that she realized her feelings for him were deeper than she wanted to admit. Tonight when they were talking with Henri, Emma knew she’d already lost her heart to Clay. “I can understand now why you were naturally attracted to Mrs. King when you first saw her.”
“I was curious about her. She looked so much like Violet that I think I wanted to be around her to remember my wife. I was afraid I was forgetting what Violet looked like. I didn’t want to forget. I don’t want to ever forget them.”
“You will never forget them.” Emma reached over and tenderly stroked his cheek. “They will always be in your heart.”
Clay reached for her hand. The fact that she understood his feelings tugged at that place in his soul, the place he thought he locked away forever. He pressed his lips to her palm.
It was such an intimate gesture, Emma’s heart started to thump loudly, and her gaze remained fixed on his lips. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, and just as that thought flitted through her mind, Clay gently placed her hand back on the table.
Thoughts of Violet came rushing over him. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Not just yet.
Part of him wanted to kiss Emma so badly, he could actually taste her. But he needed to get control of the past. “Emma, what I was trying to say a moment ago was, I’ve never given another thought to having a family again . . .” He wanted to add until I met you, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “I’ve not let go of the past.” Thinking about Violet and Mark made him question if he really did want to move on with his life. He couldn’t let them go.
Emma’s heart almost leapt with joy when she thought he was going to proclaim some deeper feelings for her. But he didn’t. He professed nothing other than his complete devotion to his deceased wife. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand—she did—but that didn’t lessen the hurt when he’d admitted his fidelity to Violet. Four years was a long time to mourn.
Both of her sisters had told her that they thought they had fallen in love the first time they saw their husbands when they returned to Whispering Pines. Emma had never considered the possibility of love at first sight, but now she wasn’t so sure. Was she in love with him? Is that why her heart felt like it was splintering into tiny pieces at this very moment?
She glanced at his large, strong hands on the table, and she felt like bringing his palm to her lips. Instead, she placed her hand over his and gave him a gentle squeeze, hoping she could offer some comfort even though her heart was breaking. “One day it will get easier.”
* * *
Though she didn’t say the words, she thought as long as Leigh King was around, Clay wouldn’t be able to resist the beautiful widow. She was the constant reminder of all that he’d lost. All that he had loved.
Chapter Sixteen
Hearing a knock on the bedroom door, Morgan pulled his pants on, and hurried to see what was going on. Granny was standing there with a frantic look on her face. “What is it, Granny? Are you ill?”
“I’m worried about Emma and Clay. They should have been home hours ago. The snow hasn’t stopped and poor Sweetie is pacing the floor. I think he knows something is wrong.”
Morgan ran his hand over his face. “What time is it?”
“It’s one o’clock.”
“Let me get my shirt.” Once Morgan threw some water on his face and donned his shirt, Rose had pulled on her robe, and they all made their way to the kitchen.
“I’ll make us some coffee,” Rose said.
Morgan walked to the window and looked outside. Several inches of snow had accumulated since they had r
etired for the night. “Don’t you think Clay decided it would be better to stay in Denver?”
“He might have, but I know Emma, and she was determined to come home. She didn’t say as much, but I think she was worried the prince might be in Denver,” Granny replied.
“Doesn’t she want to see him?” Morgan asked.
Granny pulled cups from the shelves and placed them on the table. “She didn’t mind seeing him, but she’s in love with Clay.”
“Granny, Emma didn’t say that,” Rose said.
“She didn’t have to say the words. I’ve never seen Emma get so aggravated with a man like she does Clay. It was all but written on her forehead every time his name came up in conversation. She told us she had no intention of marrying the prince.”
“She did get very angry with Clay over Mrs. King,” Rose agreed. Rose remembered feeling the same way about Morgan when another woman would show the least amount of interest in him.
Morgan laughed. “If it makes you two feel better, I think Clay is in love with her too. He was all lathered up when he thought she wasn’t going to let him take her to Denver yesterday.”
Granny clapped her hands together. “I just knew it! I bet we will have a Christmas wedding.”
“Now, Granny, don’t get your hopes up. It may not turn out that way,” Rose warned.
“You know as well as I do, for all of Emma’s independence, she would love to be married and have children.” Granny knew Emma was a strong, self-determined woman, but she also knew her granddaughter had a lot of love to give a man.
Rose reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Do you think Clay will ask her to marry him?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Morgan had a feeling that was exactly the reason Clay wanted to take her to Denver, though he didn’t say as much. Morgan hadn’t told anyone when he was ready to ask Rose to marry. It may have seemed like a hasty decision, but it’d been on his mind day and night once he saw her. He thought it was a funny thing how men reacted before they realized they were in love. In his case, he kept trying to avoid his feelings. Rose would get under his skin, make him so angry he felt like he could chew through nails. But once he faced the fact that no one could get under his skin like Rose, he had to face what was really going on. He was in love, and he couldn’t wait to make her his wife. He had a feeling Clay was going to come to the same conclusion about Emma, if he could put the past behind him.
“Do you think they had trouble trying to get home?” Granny asked.
Morgan agreed with Granny that Emma and Clay probably left Denver. “As soon as it gets light, I’ll go to town and send a telegram to Sheriff Trent in Denver. He’ll find out if they decided to stay the night and let me know.”
“Good,” Granny said. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t be.” Morgan glanced at Sweetie, who was sitting by the back door looking so sad that it broke his heart. He didn’t want Granny or Sweetie worrying. Morgan stood and reached for his coat by the back door. “I’ll go get Jack, and we’ll take Sweetie and ride the trail to Denver. I know if they are stopped somewhere on the road, Sweetie will find them.”
Sweetie jumped up and started wagging his tail.
* * *
Clay had arranged a comfortable spot on the floor near the fireplace so they could stay warm. Emma didn’t complain; she enjoyed being in Clay’s company no matter the circumstances. When she fell asleep, Clay watched her for a long time. Emma was nothing like Violet, but he felt a deep connection with her. He wondered what it would be like to be married to her and build a new life filled with fresh hopes and dreams.
He knew if he did move on with his life, he would want children. They could never replace his son, but he would love them just as much. Not wanting to fall sleep, Clay shut his eyes and thought about his past.
* * *
The door opened slowly, with the barrel of a pistol barely visible pushing it wider. Clay was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear the door opening, but when he felt the cold air, he knew it was too late. The barrel of the gun came into view. He wasn’t a careless man, but tonight his mind had been preoccupied with the woman beside him, and the woman in his past. His rifle was still on the table under his coat. Leaping to his feet, he started to make a move for the rifle, but two men charged through the door before he’d taken the first step.
“I swear, Win, we find the strangest people in cabins every time we come this way,” Joe Culpepper said.
Win grinned. “Don’t we, though?”
Emma was startled awake at the sound of men’s voices. She sat straight and glared at the two men. “Who are you?”
Win Taggart laughed. “Honey, we’re the men of your dreams.”
Emma shuddered. She glanced at Clay, and saw the way he was intently watching these two men. Emma stood, and with the same confident presence she employed on stage, said in a haughty tone, “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Why, you’re a feisty thing.” Culpepper turned his eyes on Clay. “Your woman always do the talking for you?”
“What do you want?” Clay asked, not taking the bait.
“What do you have?” Win asked. He looked Clay over and saw he wasn’t wearing a holster. “Where’s your pistol?”
“I don’t wear one.”
Culpepper walked to the table and Clay held his breath, hoping he didn’t see the rifle. He flipped open the lid on the basket. He stuck his hand inside and pulled out a piece of chicken. “Hey, Win, we have some chicken here.”
Win kept his gun pointed at Clay as he walked over to the table and grabbed a piece of chicken. “What are you two doing in our cabin?”
“This cabin has been abandoned for years,” Clay said.
“Maybe. But we’ve been here for a few days, so I figured it’s ours now,” Culpepper said. He waved his gun at Clay. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“We were headed to Whispering Pines and got caught in the storm. I guess if you’ve been out in it, you know it’s blowing pretty hard out there,” Clay said.
“Where you coming from?” Win asked.
“Denver.” Clay looked at Emma, silently hoping he telegraphed for her not to reveal too much to this pair of killers. He’d recognized them once they called each other by name.
Culpepper stared hard at Emma. “I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
Clay held his breath, but Emma said, “I doubt that.”
“I know I’ve seen your face before.” Culpepper motioned with the barrel of his gun at Clay. “Is this your husband?”
Emma glanced at Clay, and seeing his almost imperceptible nod, she said, “Yes. Now why don’t you tell us who you are and what you want.”
“Excuse our manners.” Culpepper removed his hat and bowed. “I’m Joe Culpepper and this here’s”—he pointed to Taggart—“Win Taggart. We’re looking for some hombres who stole something from us.”
Emma tried to remain calm. These were the two men she and Clay had been discussing earlier. Now she understood the look on Clay’s face as he was staring at the two men who had killed his family. She admired him even more for maintaining his composure.
“Maybe you’ve heard of us,” Taggart said.
“Should we have heard of you?” Clay said.
“Most people have,” Culpepper said.
Both men sat at the table and helped themselves to the rest of the chicken while pointing their guns on Clay and Emma.
Clay leaned his hip against the table near his coat, trying to appear as casual as possible looking down the barrel of a gun. “Are you headed to Denver?”
“Yep, we sure are. We need to see some men about some money.” Culpepper looked at Taggart and said, “Win, why don’t you go on out there and unsaddle our horses and bring in the whiskey. I’ll watch these two.”
Win stood and headed to the door. “Don’t eat all that chicken, I’m still hungry.”
“We got some food in our saddlebags,” Culpepper responded.
&
nbsp; “It ain’t as good as that chicken.”
Win left the cabin, and Culpepper turned his attention on Clay. “Why ain’t you wearing a gun?”
“I’m a pastor,” Clay replied. Let him go on thinking he didn’t have a weapon.
Culpepper let out a hearty laugh. “Is that a fact?”
“It’s a fact. I’m the pastor in Whispering Pines.”
Chewing with his mouth open, Culpepper said, “And that’s the reason you go around out here in this country without a pistol?”
“That’s right.”
“Don’t you think that’s pretty stupid considering the kind of men who could ride up at any time? You never know who might stop in your cabin.” Culpepper laughed at his own joke.
“It’s happened before,” Clay said.
Emma stood and picked up her cape that had been covering her. She knew if they were going to have a chance to get out of this situation it had to be while Culpepper and Taggart were separated.
Culpepper followed her movement with the barrel of his pistol. “What do you think you are doing?”
Clay was at one end of the table, so Emma stepped closer to the opposite end. A quick glance at Clay said he was watching her, and she saw his eyes slide to the rifle on the table. Culpepper’s eyes were on her. “I’m cold.” With great flare, and knowing Culpepper was intently watching her, Emma swirled her cape, causing the material to fan out wide, brushing the killer’s gun hand. Distracted by the movement of the cape, Culpepper didn’t notice Emma had pulled her pistol from the inside pocket. She had Carlo to thank for that move; she’d seen him do the same thing numerous times. Carlo always told her the hand was quicker than the eye.
At the same time, Clay grabbed his rifle and pushed the muzzle against Culpepper’s temple. “Drop the pistol.”
Culpepper turned his head toward Clay, but held on to his gun. “Preacher Man, you ain’t gonna shoot me.”
Clay had already made up his mind he would pull the trigger to protect Emma. He’d seen what these two killers were capable of doing, and he wasn’t going to give them another chance to kill. He stared into Culpepper’s eyes to let him know he shouldn’t take that gamble.
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