Endless Heart: Heart, Book 3

by Emma Lang

  “I wondered about the rope marks on your wrists and feet.” Marge nodded sagely. “There’s some bad folks round these parts. I wouldn’t go to Benson either. We’s within a half a day’s ride from Forestville. I can take you there if you like.”

  Shane could have wept from the news they were so close to home. “Yes, ma’am, that’d be right fine.”

  “The store there ain’t as good as the one in Benson, so I don’t generally go there. I’ll help you folks get home though. Your woman can ride old Bertha. She’s a good mule.” Marge eyed Shane again, her gaze traveling up and down his torso. “And I can get my fill of looking at you along the way.”

  Lettie laughed, hooting like she’d never heard something so funny. Shane wanted a shirt.

  “Let’s get a move on then.” Marge got to her feet. “I reckon we don’t want those three bad’uns to find us.”

  Shane picked up Lettie and followed the tiny mountain woman out the door. Lettie wound her arms around his neck and leaned into him.

  “I love you, Shane Murphy.” Her soft whisper echoed through him as though she’d shouted.

  He kissed her ear and whispered, “I love you too, Lettie Brown.”

  Bertha the mule seemed to be older than Mountain Marge, impossible as it was. Yet she allowed Shane to set Lettie on her sideways. There were empty sacks hanging from the ropes that held the blanket on the mule’s back. He assumed Marge would fill those with supplies and bring them to her mountain home. Shane would make sure they were full to bursting for what she’d done for them.

  The ride through the woods was less frantic than the day before, and with considerably less panic. Shane walked along, his feet sore but not too bad. The fresh air filled his lungs, and he had a tiny flame of hope inside him that the nightmare was over. The birds sang, the sun graced the forest with warmth and things were going well. When they reached the road that would lead them back to Forestville, everything went wrong at once.

  He should have expected it, but he hadn’t.

  Buster, Myron and Norman were in the middle of the road blocking their passage home. Their pistols were pointed at the three ragtag travelers. Another flock of birds burst from the woods, cawing as their black wings winked in the bright sunlight.

  Shane had no chance against three armed men considering he had nothing but a knife. Dammit to hell. Greed drove men to be ruthless bastards.

  “Shit,” Mountain Marge offered. “I’m guessing that’s the three you been hiding from.”

  “You’d be right.” Shane didn’t take his gaze off the three troublemakers. He gripped the knife, knowing he couldn’t do much damage before the bullets ripped into the women who were now in his care.

  “You’re a clever two, ain’t ya?” Buster sneered. “I don’t know how you got out of that wagon, but I aim to get the money. Now.”

  “We don’t have it, fool.” Lettie sneered right back. “It’s at the bank in Benson. Bet you had some trouble when you got there and couldn’t get it, hmm?”

  “Shut up, bitch.” Buster cocked his pistol and pointed it straight at Lettie.

  Shane accepted he had only moments to live, but he could die knowing he had fallen in love with a good woman, had a taste of what true joy was. He would die for her, without question or hesitation.

  He stepped in front of the mule, blocking Buster from getting off a good shot. “Go back to the hole you climbed out of. We won’t send the law after you, and you can go back to ranching.”

  Buster laughed without humor. “You think it’s that easy? Hell no. You done humiliated me and my boys here. We ain’t gonna let you go this time. We’re going to kill the both of you and enjoy the deed.”

  Lettie kept egging him on. “What about the money? Don’t you want it? If you kill us, you won’t ever get it.”

  “Oh I’ll make sure I hurt you good and make you tell me the truth. I aim to get that money, fuck you until you bleed, then kill you. Bitch.” Buster now aimed for Shane. “But first I’m gonna enjoy killing your man here.”

  The first shot ripped through Shane’s shoulder. He threw the knife before he turned to slap the mule’s rump and send it running in the other direction. Mountain Marge screeched and ran toward the men, a shotgun appearing from her skirt. Buster’s second shot tore into Shane’s gut.

  All hell broke loose, and he saw others ride in from behind the three bandits. One of the riders was Angeline, her blonde hair gleaming in the sun. He fell to his knees, lightheaded and woozy. When he saw the knife protruding from Norman’s leg, Shane smiled.

  Then his face said howdy to the road and everything went black.

  Lettie stood at the window, staring out into the evening sky. Vibrant pinks, oranges and reds painted the sides of the buildings in Forestville. She should have appreciated the beauty of the sunset, but her heart was occupied with the man who lay inert on the bed.

  It was the same bed he had been in the first time they spoke, in the room where they first started to fall in love. This time his injury was because of her. It wasn’t a nameless, faceless bastard who beat him. No, it was Buster Dawson, the man she’d jeered at, discounted as a fool, who had shot Shane down like a dog.

  Her throat closed up, and she blinked back tears. She’d done enough crying for his injury, screaming and carrying on like a madwoman until Sam had pulled her off the bleeding Shane. Her overreaction nearly cost him his life.

  Now she sat by his side, changing his bandages, wiping him down with cool cloths as his body fought the fever that had set in almost immediately. He’d had to ride a horse back to Forestville with a bullet in his shoulder and belly. Stomach wounds were the worst. The doctor had worked for hours repairing the damage done by the bullet.

  Two days had passed, and Shane fought against infection and fever. Lettie had been there every second, willing him to live. If he didn’t, her heart would never recover. Hers beat with each thump of his, steady and strong in his chest. He was unconscious, lost in a world where she couldn’t reach him. Each second that ticked by was excruciating.

  “Lettie?”

  She didn’t turn around when she heard Angeline’s voice. “I wouldn’t be anyplace else.”

  “You need to eat.” Angeline stepped up beside her. “He wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She hadn’t had much appetite for days. All she did was take care of Shane and hope she hadn’t given her love to a man only to have him snatched from her arms only days later. Her stomach churned with fear and rage.

  She had no one to be angry at except Buster and his cohorts, and he had already been brought to Laramie to stand trial for attempted murder. Sam convinced the marshals to transport him and his men before Lettie got to them. He had done the right thing because she would have killed them if Shane died. She might even kill them for putting them both through this pain.

  “I knew you’d say that so I brought the food with me.” Angeline set a bowl of stew on the chest of drawers and pulled Lettie over to the chair beside the bed. “You can sit here and feed yourself while he heals.”

  Lettie didn’t want to, but she was feeling a little sick from eating nothing. She let Angeline sit her down and give her the bowl. The salty scent filled her nose, and to Lettie’s surprise, her stomach rumbled noisily. She took a spoonful and was grateful when she was able to swallow it.

  Angeline smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked at Shane lying motionless beneath the white sheets. “He looks better, like he has more color.”

  Lettie swallowed the second bite and gazed at Shane’s whiskered face. His cheeks looked gaunt and sunken, his eyes too. He had been pink with fever, but it had broken an hour earlier. She took another bite of stew and realized Angeline was right. He did appear as though he had a more natural color to his face.

  “His fever broke?”

  “About an hour ago.” Lettie set the bowl down after four bites. It was enough. “I cried.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she had to swallow
hard not to cry again.

  Angeline stood and held out her hand. Lettie got to her feet and let her friend pull her into a hug, a nice hard one. Exactly what she needed, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She hung on, fighting her exhaustion and her emotions. Who knew that hugs would become so important?

  “He’ll be okay, Lettie. The man survived the fever and the surgery. He’s strong and young.” Angeline’s soft voice calmed Lettie as much as the hug.

  “I can’t lose him, Angeline. I can’t.” Lettie leaned back and stared into her friend’s eyes. “I didn’t think I could love a man. I never knew what it felt like or imagined how much he would mean to me.”

  “Does this mean you’ll marry me?” Shane’s gravelly voice made both women jump.

  Much to her consternation, she cried again, falling to her knees beside the bed. She barely saw Angeline leave the room and close the door behind her.

  His hand landed on her head, and he petted her hair. “You look like hell.”

  She laughed and wiped away her tears with angry swipes. “You sure can flatter a girl.”

  “I know what my girl likes to hear.” His grin was crooked.

  Lettie took a few deep breaths to tuck the emotions back into place, before she could speak again. It was difficult, but she managed to stop the tears although her throat was tight, holding back the dam that threatened to burst.

  “You almost died. The doc spent two hours digging those bullets out and fixing your belly.” She pointed to the wound on his shoulder. “That was the bleeder and the reason you almost died. There was so much blood.”

  “I thought blood didn’t bother you.” His eyes drooped, and his voice faded with each word.

  “It don’t, except if it’s yours. Hell, you started out by bleeding and puking on me. I thought it was good you only bled on me this time.” She had never felt so out of control than she did at that moment.

  Lettie loved Shane, something she never expected. Yet almost losing him because he protected her was nearly too much to bear. If this was what love was, she didn’t know if she wanted it. Better to live miserably than to die a little each day because someone she loved was hurt or in danger. She was being torn in two by her cowardice and her heart.

  “I still want to marry you.” His eyes drifted closed into sleep.

  Marriage was a prospect Lettie did not welcome. After her disastrous first marriage, she expected it to be her last. Now he’d said twice that he wanted to marry her. Her stomach clenched at the thought. She pressed her face into his hand, breathing in his scent, his life. He had practically sacrificed himself for her. How could she let that happen again? Would she survive it?

  Whirling with emotions she didn’t want or welcome, Lettie left the room for the first time in two days. Now that he slept instead of laying unconscious, she could go home and take a bath then sleep. She needed to be away from him to clear her head and decide what to do about the man who owned her heart.

  When she stepped outside the Blue Plate to walk home, she was surprised to find Mountain Marge waiting with her mule. She raised her hand in greeting.

  “Hey there, Lettie. I was gettin’ ready to head on home, but I wanted to say goodbye to ya and yer man.” The old woman had various full packs on the back of her mule.

  Marta and Pieter had offered her a room for a few days and compensated her with supplies for helping Shane and Lettie. The hermit had gotten along well with the German couple, and Lettie expected Mountain Marge would be back.

  “He’s doing better. He just woke up.” A tremor sounded in her voice. “I, uh, am headed home to get some sleep.”

  Marge took her hands, peering up at Lettie from her tiny height. “That’s a good’un, right there. You take care of him, y’hear? The good’uns don’t come around often.”

  With that, the mountain inhabitant released Lettie’s hands and turned to pick up the mule’s reins.

  “Thank you for everything, Marge. We wouldn’t have survived without you.” Lettie owed the woman a debt, and she wouldn’t forget that.

  Marge waved her hand in dismissal. “Pshaw. ’Tweren’t nothing. You keep yourself safe, Lettie.”

  Lettie watched her amble away chatting with the mule and sidestepping piles of horse droppings in the road. Life was simple for Marge. If only it was for Lettie.

  Shane woke to bright sunshine and birds twittering. He opened his eyes slowly and recognized his room at the restaurant. There was a staleness to the air, as though the room had been closed up for days. He remembered Lettie beside the bed crying and an ache in his gut, but not much else.

  He tried to move, and pain shot through him like a white-hot poker. Memories of the fight with Buster and his men flooded Shane’s brain. He’d been shot twice by the lousy son of a bitch.

  “Ah, you are awake, liebchen.” Marta appeared beside the bed, smiling. Her apple cheeks were as rosy as always. The fact she called him liebchen did not escape his notice. “Lettie said you had woken last night and asked us to look over you. Poor child hasn’t slept in days, sitting here taking care of you. She needed to go home and rest.”

  Days? Shane ran his hand down his face and was surprised to find a full crop of whiskers. He was in worse shape than he thought.

  “Is she okay?” He thought perhaps Lettie had spent days by his side without sleeping. She didn’t need to make herself sick by taking care of him.

  “Ach, she is fine. Once your fever broke, she was wrung out. I sent her home to bed, and we took turns checking on you last night.” Marta sat on the side of the bed. “I can check your wounds now, ya?”

  Shane nodded, and the older woman got to work. She was very gentle, removing soiled bandages and wrapping fresh ones around his wounds. The shoulder wound ached, but the gut wound hurt like mad. It would be a long time before it healed, if it healed proper at all.

  “What did the doc say?” He was worried, he’d admit it. During the war a gut wound could kill a man quick or fester for two weeks and then a fella could die in agony. Shane didn’t want either to happen.

  “He said you lost a lot of blood, but you were strong. Lettie took care of you good. She did everything the doctor say. It is her who saved you.” Marta gathered up the bandages and got to her feet. “I will send Karen up with breakfast, if you are up to eating.”

  He was mildly hungry, more tired, but food did sound good right about then. “That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Gunderson. Thank you.”

  She smiled and headed for the door. “You are family now, liebchen. There is no thanks when you are family.”

  He stared at the door long after she went through it, shocked by Marta’s pronouncement. He was family? How did he get to be family in less than a month? It must have something to do with Lettie. He tried to remember the last couple days, and all he saw was her tear-stained face. She had cried for him. Lettie had cried for him. No one had ever loved him enough to cry for him. More than that, Lettie was not a weak woman who resorted to waterworks. Her emotions humbled him.

  Shane swallowed the lump in his throat. In his heart, he wanted to marry her, spend the rest of his life seeing her when he woke up every morning and went to sleep each night. He wanted to hear her order him around, grump when he didn’t do what she asked, and most of all, he wanted to feel her in his arms. Right now.

  When Karen came in with a plate of eggs and a biscuit, he managed to say thank you and eat dutifully as she watched. Although he couldn’t finish the entire plate, he ate enough to satisfy whatever orders she had to make sure the food disappeared.

  Karen was nice enough and took care of him, as everyone did at the Blue Plate. But he needed to see Lettie, and not only in his dreams. After Karen left, he fought against sleep, but in the end, it won.

  Lettie went upstairs several hours after breakfast. There were no customers and no chores to be done. She’d been avoiding him. It was time to admit it to herself. She played childish games when what she really needed was to talk to him.

  The best way to move for
ward was to stop standing still. It was time.

  She walked up the stairs with purpose, ready to make a decision one way or the other. He might not remember asking her to marry him. That would be the worst of any situation she could imagine. The door to the room was closed, and she knocked softly.

  “Come in.” His voice sounded sleep-tinged, as though she had woken him.

  Feeling a little guilty about disturbing his slumber, she opened the door wide enough to poke her head in. His face broke into a beautiful smile when he saw her.

  “There’s my girl.”

  Her heart jumped like a silly fool, and she found herself smiling back as she stepped into the room.

  “Are you rested up? Mrs. Gunderson said you were here for two days straight.” His expression was full of worry for her.

  “I’m fine, but I wasn’t shot. My legs are only bruised. They’re healing up quick, mostly thanks to you taking care of me after the accident.” She pulled the chair to the side of the bed and sat, her hands folded in her lap. Now that she was face-to-face with him, and he was fully alert, she found herself tongue-tied.

  “Plus you were tied up and beaten by those bastards.” His expression hardened. “I should have killed them for what they did.”

  She felt loved by his proclamation even if it was a bit bloodthirsty of him. “The law has them now. I expect they’ll swing for their crimes.”

  “Did the Gundersons have to pay for the wagon?” He reminded her she had completely forgotten about the wagon, and the fact it was in pieces about twenty miles from town.

  “I don’t know. I should have asked, but I was worried about you.” Her heart took over, pushing her overactive brain aside. “I thought I’d never talk to you again or kiss you or anything else with you. It about killed me, Shane. I didn’t know what I’d do.” She paused, frozen by her cowardice. Lettie gave herself a mental pinch. “I was scared.”

  He took her hand and kissed the back. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”