Loving the Lawmen

by Marie Patrick

  Eamon let out a chuckle as he finally understood. “All right, Traveler, let’s go home.”

  Chapter 18

  It was quiet. Too quiet. And Theo found the silence deafening. The usual noises—the neighing of the horses, the lowing of the cows in the pasture, and the chickens clucking from their pen—were missing. Mallory and the cats were out in the paddocks. Happy rested on his bed, still not himself. Even the children, normally rambunctious and full of mischief, seemed unusually subdued as they left the playhouse in answer to the dinner bell.

  They missed Eamon, as did she, and asked constantly when he was coming back, especially Gabby, who didn’t believe for one minute he wouldn’t.

  Theo closed her eyes as she brushed Daphne, Eamon’s favorite out of all the Morning Mist horses. She understood the connection now, the emotional bond between them. After all, Daphne had been bred and raised at Kieran’s farm, Whispering Pines, before tragedy had struck … for all of them. “What should I do, Daphne?”

  The horse tossed her head and whinnied, but provided no answers.

  “Still talking to the animals, I see.” Amusement made his tone light and charming.

  Startled, Theo spun around and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. “Aldrich!”

  “Hello, Theo.”

  “What are you doing here? Are you interested in purchasing one of my horses?”

  “No, not today.” His eyes darted from side to side, then came to rest on her as he took a step closer.

  There was something odd about him. Very odd. Normally fastidious about his appearance, he seemed to not care at the moment. His clothes were wrinkled as if he’d slept in them, and his hair stood up on end, like he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly. Or just hadn’t brushed it that morning.

  She backed away a step and bumped into Daphne. She could retreat no farther. “Then why are you here?”

  “Smile, my dear.” He advanced on her, and even though he encouraged her to smile, he did not. “Today is our wedding day.”

  “Are you insane? I’m not going to marry you. I’ve told you that before. I have not changed my mind.”

  Theo gasped as Aldrich grabbed her, his fingers digging painfully into her arm. He forced her closer to him, his gaze boring into hers. She noticed a small twitch at the corner of his left eye. Aside from that, his whole demeanor said he was a man with a mission. Confident. Arrogant. Unwilling to take no for an answer.

  “Not insane, my dear.” He lowered his voice, his lips close to her ear. “Determined to get what I want.” He licked her throat, and a shudder of revulsion wracked her. “Now, where is the rest of the family? You wouldn’t want them to miss the nuptials, would you?”

  “You’ve lost your mind.” She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was too strong and his fingers bit deeper into her flesh with cruel intention.

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m finally thinking right. I’ve waited for you a long time, Theo. A very long time. I’m done waiting. I mean to have you.” He chuckled then, but it wasn’t with amusement. It was madness, pure and simple. “You gave it to MacDermott, so you can give it to me, too, but you don’t have to be willing. I don’t care either way. I will have you.” His hot breath in her face made her stomach turn almost as much as his words. She’d heard things about Aldrich Pearce, things she hadn’t wanted to know about how he treated his late wife and his succession of mistresses, things that had repulsed her. And now, he was here, showing her by his actions the rumors were true.

  “Let’s go share the happy news.” His lips formed a smile that didn’t reach his crazed eyes—as if she were in full agreement with his plans.

  Theo didn’t move.

  “Playing hard to get, are we? You’re too old to be considered a coquette, my dear.” His words were deceptively smooth and cajoling, not at all in keeping with the jerk he gave her.

  Theo stumbled with the force of his strength, nearly falling to her knees. She had no doubts he would drag her if necessary. Gaining her footing as well as her dignity, she drew herself up and took a step, but that wasn’t good enough for Aldrich. He yanked her again, and this time, she did fall. He let her go for a moment, but that was only to grab her more forcefully, his hands now gripping both arms as he pulled her to her feet and against him, so tightly, she could feel his full erection against her belly. The churning in her stomach worsened. “Don’t force me to be unkind, Theo,” he warned as he released her, then caught her arm in his steel-like grip and forced her to walk across the barnyard toward the house.

  An older man in an ill-fitting black suit stood on the back porch, his hat in one hand, a book in the other. She knew him—Mr. Parish, the justice of the peace—and it was clear he wasn’t there to help her. Just the opposite.

  She had no choice. She’d have to help herself. There was no way she would allow this man into her home or anywhere near the children. She stomped on Aldrich’s foot as hard as she could. As expected, he yelped and let her go. She’d only managed to take a step when he grabbed her ponytail and dragged her back to him. The pain made her eyes water.

  “Keep it up, Theo. I enjoy some spunk in my women. It’ll make the wedding night that much more exciting.”

  Theo’s stomach twisted at the thought, and bile flooded her throat, threatening to choke her as he half dragged, half pulled her through the porch. Happy rose from his bed, teeth bared, and lunged toward Pearce, but the man was quick and kicked him. The dog cried out the same time Theo did and shook his head, perhaps dazed by the action, as Pearce neatly sidestepped him and dragged her into the house.

  Conversation ceased in an instant, the happy chatter dying as everyone around the dinner table turned.

  “Aldrich!” Granny exclaimed as she rose stiffly from her seat at the same time Quincy stood. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “There’s going to be a wedding,” Aldrich announced, then immediately turned his attention to Quincy. “You.” He motioned toward the cellar door with his head. “Get in there. Take those two with you.” He gestured toward Lou and Wynn. “You.” He pointed at Marianne, who stood perfectly still, a plate of fried chicken in her hands, her face pale. “Lock them in.”

  Her cheeks flushed, the redness standing out on her white face. “I will not!”

  “You will and you’ll do it now.”

  Theo bit back the scream of pain as his fingers dug deeper into her arm. Her hand began to tingle; his grip was so tight. “It’s all right, Marianne. Do what he says. Then take Granny and the children and go outside.”

  “No, the children stay. So will the old woman.”

  “Aldrich, please, I’ll do whatever you say. Let them go.” She hated the weakness in her voice, but any ploy was better than the rage that might push him to do more harm.

  He loosened his grip on her, but not enough. “I don’t think so, Theo. You see, they are my leverage,” he held up the revolver he pulled from his pocket and pointed it at each member of her family one at a time, “more so than this. You’ll do what I say because you won’t want anyone to get hurt.” He lowered his voice and moved his mouth closer to her ear. “And you know I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

  He wouldn’t. She knew that. “Marianne, Quincy. Please.” She heard the fear in her own shaking voice, but it wasn’t fear for herself. It was for her family. Pearce had guessed that much right, gambling on the fact she loved them more than she loved herself. “Do what he says.”

  “The boys, too,” he reminded her.

  Marianne put the platter of chicken on the table as Lou and Wynn stiffly rose from their seats and started slowly walking toward the cellar. “I wouldn’t try anything,” Pearce warned and raised the pistol once more. He made a show of pointing the revolver first on Thomas, then on Charlotte, then lastly, on Gabby. Wide, blue eyes watered as the little girl’s chin trembled.

  Theo’s heart thundered in her chest. Mr. Parish entered the kitchen, dropped his hat on the chair beside the door, and swept the cellar door o
pen with a flourish. He gave a slight bow as Quincy, Wynn, and Lou stepped onto the stairs that would lead them down to the basement, then slammed the door closed after them. He moved aside only so Marianne could lock it, then took the key from her hand.

  “Very good.” Pearce waved the revolver at Marianne and pointed to the sink with it. “Now get over there and keep your mouth shut.”

  Marianne nodded and moved slowly toward the table, her intention clear—comfort the children, who sat staring at Theo and Pearce with tears in their fear-filled eyes.

  “Mrs. Burke, it wouldn’t bother me at all to shoot you right now.”

  Once again, Marianne nodded, bypassed the table, and moved to the sink. She leaned against the counter and folded her arms across her chest, her expression filled with the desire to do him bodily harm.

  “Stop this right now, Aldrich!” Granny demanded as she slammed her open hand against the table, drawing his attention.

  “Shut up, old woman!” The revolver leveled in her direction. Granny’s mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth, her face white except for the twin spots of red on her cheeks. He chuckled, obviously pleased, and turned toward Mr. Parish. “Now then, let’s get on with the ceremony. Mr. Parish, if you will?”

  The man began to read, but Theo heard nothing. Her mind scrambled for a way to get out of this … this nightmare … without anyone getting hurt, but came up blank. He was too strong, his grip too tight on her arm, the tingling in her fingers gone now—she felt only coldness in her hand … and in her heart.

  Eamon! her brain screamed, though he couldn’t hear her. He’d gone, and she was the reason. She’d told him not to come back if he went after Logan. And yet, she still looked toward the kitchen door, hoping he’d walk through it any minute and save her. Save them all.

  “You keep looking at the door, my dear. Why is that?” He lowered his voice and leaned a little closer. As if reading her mind, he asked, “Could it be you’re thinking MacDermott will burst through that door and save you?” He laughed then, the sound rising up from his chest to instill terror in her heart. “He’s not coming. He’s dead.”

  The tears were instantaneous and, with it, rage beyond comprehension. Despite the grip he had on her arm and the fact her hand was numb, Theo yanked herself free of his grasp and whirled on him, her open hand aiming straight for his face, but it was a mistake because desperate men did desperate things.

  And Aldrich Pearce was becoming a desperate man.

  He smacked her hard across the face with such force, pain exploded in her cheek and she staggered across the room, landing in a heap at Marianne’s feet. He turned quickly and grabbed Charlotte, plucking her from her seat as if she weighed nothing. He held her against him while she cried, the bore of the pistol resting against her temple.

  “If we are done with the theatrics?” He pressed the gun a little harder against the child’s head. “Mr. Parish? Please continue.”

  • • •

  Eamon slowed Traveler to a walk as he turned into the drive, unsure of the reception he’d receive, but determined to see Theo, no matter the outcome. She could still be of a mind to see him gone, but he’d never know if he didn’t try.

  He came around the side of the house to the barnyard, and it hit him in an instant. Something wasn’t right. It was much too quiet. He didn’t hear the children laughing, didn’t see Quincy and the boys bringing the cows in from the field, didn’t see Theo.

  Sunlight filtered through the trees as it lowered into the horizon.

  Of course. Dinnertime. The family would be gathered in the warm kitchen, having one of Marianne’s wonderful meals. What was it tonight? Fried chicken? Her famous meatloaf with peach cobbler for dessert?

  His stomach growled as he pictured the table laden with her excellent cooking.

  A buggy was parked near the stable. He recognized it instantly as the fancy rig AJ Pearce had driven when he’d come to the farm. Eamon drew Traveler up beside it and dismounted.

  “Psst. MacDermott!” A loud stage whisper came from the shadows of the stable to his right and the piece of canvas where the door should have been moved. Eamon walked toward it, his hands at his sides but ready to pull his pistol if need be. A moment later, AJ peeked out from the side of the canvas.

  “AJ? What are you doing here? Why are you hiding?”

  “Keep it down,” he hissed, still in the stage whisper, and motioned toward the house. “My … my father is in there. He has Theo, and he’s trying to force her to marry him.”

  “What?” His heart pounded as fear for Theo twisted through him. From what he’d learned about Pearce, there was no telling what the man was capable of doing. “Why?”

  The man had the good graces to look not only afraid, but embarrassed. “He … he wants her.”

  “I thought he wanted the farm.” Anger surged through him now, competing with the fear already in residence, and his hands balled into fists.

  AJ’s eyes darted to the left, then the right, then down, everywhere but on Eamon’s face. “He does, but he wants her, too. He’s always wanted her.”

  “And that’s why you’re hiding in the stable?” He could barely keep the disdain from his voice. He had no tolerance for cowards. Or stupidity.

  “I was going to try to stop him, but I … I can’t.”

  Eamon gave a short nod. He didn’t begin to understand how a grown man could be so afraid of his father. He understood respect. And love. He’d had both for his father, but this fear … it wasn’t right. “Then stay here and stay out of the way.” He left AJ hiding behind the canvas. Keeping to the shadows of the fading sun, he skirted the stable and the barn to come up behind the playhouse, then slowed his steps and gained the back porch. He tiptoed across the porch so the sound of his boots on the hardwood wouldn’t be heard within the house.

  Happy rose from his bed, his tail in full wag, and staggered toward him. As thrilled as he was to see the dog, now wasn’t the best time. “Go lay down,” he ordered in the same stage whisper AJ had used. Obedient as always, the dog whimpered and climbed back into his bed, and Eamon turned his attention back to the task at hand.

  The kitchen windows were open to catch the evening breeze. Eamon peeked through the lacy curtains, which made everything seem fuzzy. Fear clutched at his heart. The scene before him was something out of a nightmare. Theo stood near the sink, shielding Gabby as best she could. Marianne and Granny were beside her, faces pale with fear. Thomas stood next to them, his hands balled into fists, a scowl affixed to his young face, and a strange man in a black suit rested against the icebox, a well-worn book in his hands, seemingly out of place, unconcerned and unaffected by the events taking place in front of him. He mumbled words that sounded very much like marriage vows to Eamon’s ears.

  And Pearce? He stood by the table, his back at an angle to the kitchen door and he held Charlotte. Sweet, shy little Charlotte. Eamon heard her crying and his anger knew no bounds, but he had to be careful. He could simply shoot the man right now, but even if he only winged Pearce, he didn’t want the children to witness such an act—not from himself. They’d seen enough … shooting Pearce would only add to their nightmares. And what if he missed? What if the bullet ricocheted and hit one of the children? He couldn’t risk it.

  “L-l-let her g-go!” Thomas demanded and took a step forward. His fists raised in the boxing stance Eamon had taught him just a few short weeks ago.

  Pearce laughed, then mocked his stutter. “G-g-get back over there with the wo-wo-women, mama’s boy!” He pulled Charlotte closer with one arm and waved the revolver at Thomas before placing the bore of the pistol against Charlotte’s head. The girl cried harder.

  With reluctance, Thomas lowered his hands and took a step back, but there was murder in his eyes. If he could, he’d physically harm the man holding his sister hostage. The same could be said for Marianne and Granny. Both women wore their feelings on their faces, but it was Theo he feared for most. There was no kindness in her eyes, Eamon noti
ced as his gaze settled on her. Not now. Rage flowed from her, and her eyes sparkled with warning.

  Don’t do anything stupid, he silently prayed.

  The prayer did little good. She hadn’t heard it and if she had, it wouldn’t have mattered. She pushed Gabby at Granny, then reached for Thomas, and shoved him toward Marianne so quickly, the women only had time to gasp. Once the children were safe, she advanced on Pearce. “You will not hurt my children!” She hauled back and slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing in the room. She grabbed Charlotte and pushed her toward Marianne’s waiting arms.

  Seeing an opportunity, the only one at hand, Eamon pushed through the kitchen door at the same time the door to the cellar crashed to the floor with a horrendous bang. Startled, Pearce was momentarily without a hostage … and without his wits about him.

  Quincy glanced his way as he exited the cellar, but only for a second. “Glad you’re back, MacDermott.” He grinned as, without another word between them, they tackled Pearce to the floor and Lou and Wynn stood in front of the startled man in the black suit.

  Subdued, breathing heavily beneath the weight of both Eamon and Quincy, Pearce snarled, “You’ll regret this, MacDermott! You, too, Burke! Unhand me! Now!”

  “You got this, Quince?”

  Straddling Pearce’s hips, Quincy grinned. “You bet.”

  Eamon rose to his feet and glanced at Marianne. “Tie his hands.”

  “Gladly.” Marianne grabbed rope from one of the drawers and made quick work of securing Pearce’s hands behind his back. When Quincy rolled him over, she stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth to stop the vile words issuing forth, then wiped her hands against her apron as if touching him made her dirty.

  “Is everyone all right?” Eamon asked, but his gaze wasn’t on anyone other than Theo. Aside from the red handprint on her face, she appeared shaken but unharmed. Still angry, if her expression was any indication, but not so angry that she didn’t walk straight into his arms.

  “You’re not dead,” she whispered and held him tight.