Loving the Lawmen

by Marie Patrick

  “No, sweetheart, I’m not dead.”

  “I’m so sorry. I should never have told you not to come back. I was wrong.”

  “Aren’t you glad I didn’t listen?” Eamon kissed her then, his lips taking possession of hers regardless of who saw. No more hiding. He loved this woman, and he wanted everyone to know. No one said a word, as if his actions were expected … and accepted as a matter of course. When he broke the kiss, he gazed into her eyes.

  She lightly caressed his cheek, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I love you, Eamon MacDermott.”

  Before he could respond with the same, Gabby wrapped her little arms around both of them. “I knew you’d come back!” She was quickly joined by Thomas, Charlotte, and Granny. Love filled his heart, and Eamon’s throat constricted. He cleared it, then studied each of the children one by one. Aside from tear stains on their faces, they all seemed to be unharmed. “Granny, why don’t you take them in the other room? They don’t need to see all this.”

  “Good thinking, Eamon.” She ushered the children into the parlor but stopped before entering herself. She took a deep breath, then turned to face him, her eyes glowing softly beneath the sudden onslaught of tears. “I’m glad you came back.”

  “As am I.” A slow grin curled his lips.

  She nodded, then disappeared into the parlor. Eamon watched her go, then turned toward Quincy, who stood with his foot on Pearce’s chest. “How’d you get out of the cellar?”

  Quincy grinned. “Show ’em, Lou.”

  The young man opened his hand and showed them the hinges he had removed from the door. “I’ve been meaning to fix them. They’ve been loose for a while now.”

  “What about Pearce?” Theo asked as she stared at the man, her expression not at all forgiving, despite the fact the children had not been hurt.

  “I’ll take him to the sheriff.”

  “I wouldn’t bring him to Sheriff Call,” AJ said as he entered the kitchen, his hat in his hand. He nodded to everyone, then moved closer to Theo, his gaze on his father before rising up to meet hers. “I’m so sorry about all this, Theo. And for the part I played in it. I never thought he’d come after you like this.”

  “It’s all right, AJ. I think I understand. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t have what he wanted, and it made him angry and unreasonable.”

  AJ gave a nod. “You’re very kind. You always were.”

  “Why can’t we bring him to Sheriff Call?” Quincy asked as he moved his foot a little and pressed harder on Pearce’s chest to keep the man still.

  AJ turned his attention to Quincy. “He’s on father’s payroll, along with a host of others. Including him.” He pointed at the small man still standing in front of the icebox, now slack-jawed and clutching his Bible. “I’ll take him back to town with me, if you don’t mind. I have my horse.”

  “That’s fine.” Eamon shrugged. “As far as your father is concerned, I can still lock him in the jail. I’ll take the key so Call doesn’t let him out, and we can all wait for the U.S. Marshal together.”

  “Again, I’m sorry.” AJ held out his hand to both Theo and Eamon, then put his hat on his head, nodded toward Marianne and Quincy, and escorted the older gentleman outside. A few moments later, the sound of his horse’s hooves meeting hard-packed dirt reached them.

  “You’ll come back, won’t you?” Theo melted into his arms again.

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He kissed her again—he’d never get enough of the taste of her lips. “I love you, Theodosia Danforth. I have for a long time.” He lowered his voice and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “What about Logan?”

  Eamon shook his head. “No need to worry about him anymore. He’ll never hurt anyone again.”

  She breathed a sigh and finally let him go. Eamon kissed the tip of her nose, then helped Quincy lift Pearce to his feet. The man tried to fight, but there wasn’t much he could do with his hands tied behind him.

  Half carrying, half dragging him, they made it to the buggy and shoved Pearce none too gently into the deeply cushioned seat. Quincy climbed into the driver’s seat, took the reins, and started the carriage moving while Eamon stuck his foot in Traveler’s stirrup and lifted himself into the saddle.

  He waved one last time to the family standing on the back porch, then faced forward, Traveler’s reins held loosely in his hands as he nudged the horse to break into a trot and caught up to Quincy and Pearce’s fancy rig.

  “You gonna marry that girl?” Quincy asked as they turned out of the drive and onto the road to town.

  “If she’ll have me.” He grinned.

  “Oh, she’ll have you.” Quincy chuckled, then faced forward and concentrated on what was ahead of him. Eamon did the same. Despite the ache in his arm—he didn’t think he’d pulled out any stitches when he tackled Pearce, but he couldn’t be sure—and in the face of everything he’d been through in the past few hours, he was happy. Actually, happier than he’d ever been. He hadn’t been late this time. Hadn’t lost anyone he loved like he had in the past. The events could have turned out badly, but they hadn’t, and for that, he was grateful.

  A smile curved his mouth just as the buggy swerved, making Traveler rear up on his hind legs.

  Eamon brought his mount under control and looked to his left. Fear struck his heart, almost as much as earlier when he saw Charlotte in Pearce’s bruising hold. Somehow, Pearce had wriggled his hands free from the rope that bound him. He and Quincy struggled over a revolver while Quincy tried to avoid being shot and stop the buggy at the same time.

  Where the revolver had come from, Eamon had no clue. Maybe Aldrich had hidden it under the buggy’s seat but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Aldrich would never stop, never accept defeat. He had been waiting, biding his time until he could make his move, and he didn’t seem to care who was killed in the process.

  “Pearce! Stop!”

  Enraged, Pearce succeeded in gaining possession of the revolver with a strength born of fear and perhaps insanity. In one smooth motion, he smacked Quincy on the side of the head with the revolver then turned it on Eamon.

  “Rot in hell, MacDermott.” Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he aimed the weapon.

  Eamon drew his pistol and fired at the same time Pearce did.

  Epilogue

  “I remember the first time I saw you.” Eamon grabbed a lock of Theo’s whiskey-colored hair and twirled it around his finger. Sunlight played on the silken strands, bringing out the deep reds and golden browns. He smoothed the curl back into place and lowered his hand to caress her bare shoulder. Her skin, satin to the touch, had been warmed by the sun shining down on them as they lay on a blanket on the soft grass not far from the swimming hole.

  Theo rested her head on his chest, exactly where he wanted her to be—close to his heart. Always. Her body vibrated as she chuckled, then lifted her head to gaze into his eyes. He loved it when she looked at him like that, her green eyes shimmering with the love they shared, her face still aglow from spent passion. “I held a shotgun on you.”

  He laughed, the sound bubbling up from his chest. For a man who hadn’t laughed much before they met, he laughed a lot now. And he liked it. So many changes had happened for him since the moment he saw her. Family, always important to him, had become more so. He’d gone to see his brother, Teague, in Paradise Falls after Tell Logan died so he could impart the news in person. They kept in touch with letters now. He’d yet to see his brother, Brock, though they reconnected in correspondence as well.

  And he’d learned how to forgive himself and love like she did, with her whole heart. He chuckled again, then drew in his breath as memories assailed him—precious ones, so different from the ones he’d carried with him for so long. “I think I fell in love with you in that moment. You were unapologetic and angry and so beautiful. For a minute there, I thought you were going to shoot me, but you didn’t. Instead, you offered me a job b
ut so much more than that. You gave me kindness when I didn’t think I deserved it.” He rolled on to his side and faced her, the back of his hand lightly caressing her face. “I’m glad you did.” He dipped his head to capture her sweet lips beneath his own. “If you hadn’t, I don’t know what I would have done. I was … lost, Theo, until I found you.”

  “I’m sure you would have found another woman, Eamon. You’re a good man.” She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him, her warm fingers entangled in his hair.

  Could anyone be luckier? Or happier than he?

  “No, there isn’t any other woman for me. Just you. Always you.” He laughed again, then nuzzled the sweet spot between her ear and collarbone. Theo trembled in his embrace, as he knew she would. He loved that as well. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

  “Saturday?” she whispered against his skin, and it was his turn to shiver.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Could it be our anniversary?”

  “Why, yes, I do believe it is! Two years, Theo, since I put my ring on your finger.” He sighed, remembering the day. The pastor had come out to the farm and married them in front of a few witnesses—the most important ones—the children, Marianne, Quincy, and Granny, who beamed as if she had planned it all from the beginning. And perhaps she had. “Two years since you made me the happiest man alive.”

  “That’s not such a long time. I can see us still sneaking out to our spot right here and making love for the next forty years.”

  “Forty?” he groaned, teasing her. If forty years with her was all he could have, then he’d take it though it wasn’t nearly enough. “That’s only if you don’t wear me out.”

  She pulled out of his arms and sat up, hugging her knees to her bare chest. Sunlight dappled her skin as the trees around them swayed with the breeze. Eamon couldn’t resist. He sat up behind her and once again, wrapped his arms around her. She turned her head and laughed. “If there is anyone who will wear you out, it’s our son. I thought Gabby, Charlotte, and Thomas were a handful when they were younger, but they don’t hold a candle to EJ.” She laughed again and the sound filled him. “Do you know what I found your son doing yesterday?”

  “No, what?”

  Theo leaned against him and stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle. “Babbling to Daphne, trying to persuade her to let him ride her, I would assume. She was so gentle with him. Actually laid down in the field and let him climb on her back. I’ve never seen a horse do that before.” She reached up and rested her hand on his cheek. Eamon nuzzled her wrist, knowing how sensitive she was there. “How he got all the way out to the pasture is another matter. I only turned my back for one minute.”

  “Little scamp. He must have some of your magic with animals.” Pride made his chest puff out. He adored his eighteen-month-old son, seeing a lot of himself as well as his brothers in the MacDermott gray eyes he’d inherited and the constant mischief he sought. And he did have Theo’s touch with the horses, especially the young colts and fillies Pumpkin had sired. This past year had seen five born on the farm and six born to the mares the breeders brought to Morning Mist. The previous year, there had been four births on the farm, and the breeders who had come the year of the fire were thrilled that all their mares had birthed healthy, spirited offspring. Hart Jameson was especially pleased when Gloriana foaled twins and came back the following year to try his luck with three more mares. All of them showed great racing promise. “Speaking of children, don’t you think it’s time to tell me your secret?”

  “What secret?” She threw him a glance, her eyes wide and guileless.

  “EJ is going to have a brother or sister.”

  She grinned. “How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “I just do.” His hand drifted down to rest first over her fuller breasts, then her rounded belly. “Am I right?”

  A blush spread up her cheeks and her eyes glowed as she nodded.

  Love filled his heart, and tears blurred his vision. To think, a few short years ago, he stumbled upon a place of magic, a desperate man who didn’t think he deserved to be loved or accepted or forgiven and a woman, who despite her own heartbreak, had shown him that he was deserving. The changes hadn’t come overnight, but they had come, and it all started with a kiss in the morning mist.

  About the Author

  Marie Patrick has always had a love affair with words and books, but it wasn’t until a trip to Arizona, where she now makes her home with her husband and her furry, four-legged “girl,” that she became inspired to write about the sometimes desolate, yet beautiful landscape. Her inspiration doesn’t just come from the Wild West, though. It comes from history itself. She is fascinated with pirates and men in uniform and lawmen with shiny badges. When not writing or researching her favorite topics, she can usually be found curled up with a good book. Marie loves to hear from her readers. Drop her a note at Akamariep@aol.com, or visit her website at www.mariepatrick.com.

  Crimson Romance

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  Copyright © 2017 by Donna Warner.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Crimson Romance Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Crimson Romance ebook edition April 2017.

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  ISBN 978-1-5072-0444-3 (ebook)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and Simon & Schuster, Inc., was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed with initial capital letters.

  Lady Broke

  Rachel Donnelly

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  About the Author

  To my father, who taught me to trust in my heart, and to my husband, who loved me enough to believe in my dreams.

  Chapter One

  Nevada 1870

  The thunder of hooves beat in the distance.

  Or was it the heat?

  The air prickled. Christie pushed a curl from her moist forehead, letting her breath ease past her lips. A fat black fly hummed like a bouncing buzz-saw in the open rafters above. The only thing cool in the mercantile was the sweat trickling down her back
.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to tap her fingers on the wooden counter. If Mrs. McDermott didn’t make her selection soon, she’d be forced to race past the woman and her brood of youngsters, and leap right into the watering trough.

  The high collar of her blue muslin gown chafed like a noose, reminding her of her father’s ultimatum—‘choose a husband or I’ll choose one for you.’ Ha! As if it was that simple—like planning a menu or purchasing an Easter hat. There would always be more dinners. A hat could be stuffed in a closet until next year, but a husband was for keeps.

  Her father made no bones about his choice. Though he was miles away in Boston, she could still picture the stubborn look on his face. Apparently, he didn’t realize she could be just as stubborn. She’d never laid eyes on this man Cavanaugh, and had no intention of marrying a complete stranger.

  The trick was coming up with a worthy opponent.

  Gad!

  Just thinking about it made her head ache. Luckily, the past few weeks there’d been no time for dwelling on it. Helping Uncle Will run the mercantile took every ounce of energy, which reminded her, there was another order in the back to be packed.

  Christie’s gaze strayed to the front window. Where in the world was Cousin Leigh? There were deliveries to be made.

  “I’ve settled on the rose buds,” Mrs. McDermott said, smoothing her bony hand over the bolt of gingham piled atop three others on the counter. Her hazel eyes narrowed under her black bonnet. “But my Tom is partial to blue. Clinton!!! Put that slingshot down and mind your brother,” she threw over her shoulder. “Yes. I do believe I’ll take the blue. The blue checkered, Miss Wallace. That’s the one.”