The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10

by Beth Williamson

  Parker twitched every few seconds, which made her more nervous considering his finger was near the trigger of the big pistol in his hand. She had to think, but it was hard. Jo wanted to find a logical way out of the situation without having bullets enter her body.

  “That ain’t the way to go, you dumb bag of bones. I know you got more money.” Drummond pressed the nose of the gun harder against her skull.

  Jo inwardly winced, but she didn’t allow herself to flinch. There was no need to let the men know how scared she was. Throughout history, men had used force to control women. This was an historical fact she was very familiar with. She refused to allow herself to fall prey to their threats.

  Declan growled. “Let her go.”

  “No, I don’t think so, Callahan. She dies if you don’t give over the cash.” Drummond was well spoken for a criminal.

  “If you kill her, you’ve got two men who will stain the dirt with your blood two seconds after you pull that trigger.” John’s graphic description and the controlled fury in his voice did more to scare Jo than the guns to her head.

  “I’m not leaving here without my money.” Drummond took a step back, pulling her with him. “Or I take her with me and sell her to a slaver.”

  “That is reprehensible! Why would you perpetuate a problem like slavery?” Jo jerked her arms and freed her left arm from Parker. She swung wildly and smacked him in the nose.

  He squawked and put his hands on his face, stumbling backwards. That was the opportunity she needed. Jo dropped to her knees and punched Drummond in the testicles as hard as she could.

  “Bitch!”

  Several shots rang out and two bodies fell to the ground beside her. She covered her head and waited for the smoke to clear. The pungent scent of gunpowder decorated the air. A hand reached out and touched her elbow.

  “Lass?”

  Jo jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Declan. His warm, hard body was simply wonderful and safe. She shook as the adrenaline rushed around her body.

  “I guess she’s not mad at him anymore.”

  “John, let them alone. We must focus on the bodies on the ground, not on my sister,” Frankie tutted at her husband.

  “Lass, I’m sorry,” Declan whispered in her ear. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  She couldn’t yet find the words to say. How could she? Death had just knocked on her door and the one person she wanted to touch was the person who had cast her aside. Love didn’t care about lies, it simply was. Jo breathed in his scent, trying to erase the smell of gunpowder and blood. She’d had enough of both to last a lifetime.

  Jo was torn between the need to punish him for letting her go and the need to be in his arms forever. In the end, she had no answer, and her heart was empty.

  Declan and John put a tarp in the back of the wagon the Malloys had purchased for supply trips. This time the cargo was more grisly. After loading the bodies, John put two shovels and a pickaxe beside them and secured the gate.

  He hadn’t spoken to Declan since they’d killed Drummond and Parker. That was okay with Declan because it would make it easier to leave. On the other hand, it was hard since he considered John his first friend in life. A man who had given him a chance, and now Declan had failed him.

  “We’ll head over to the river and bury ’em. Nobody is gonna find them there.”

  Declan stared straight ahead. “No law to notify?”

  John snorted. “Nothing to speak of yet. There’s marshals, but they’re stretched too thin to do much. Besides, this was justified, and nobody is going to care these two sons of bitches are gone.”

  Declan couldn’t argue with that. Fort John was better off the moment they left. Hell, the world was better off the moment they truly left. He didn’t know why men were driven to do evil. He could argue greed or lust, but everyone experienced those urges. No, it was something else, something deeper and darker. He didn’t know if that lived inside him or not, but he had committed some deep, dark deeds.

  “How far is it?” Declan wanted to pull his mind away from his own sins.

  “About ten miles.”

  They set off without seeing the women again. Frankie had ushered her sister into the house and slammed the door. The evening was giving way to night, but Declan didn’t complain. Malloy had mounted a lantern on the corner of the wagon that threw enough light to see. He expected John had explored enough of the land around his property to know where he was going and what he’d run into along the way.

  The rest of the trip was spent in silence, much to Declan’s consternation. His thoughts attacked him from all sides—doubt, self-loathing and misery amongst the top themes. He needed to break clean from Jo and leave her to a life where her husband wasn’t fake and her future wasn’t murky.

  John pulled the wagon to a stop in an area with heavy brush and jumped down. Declan joined him and picked up the shovels.

  “There’s a clearing over there.” John grabbed the pickaxe and the lantern. “Let’s go.”

  Declan followed him, eager to get the burying over with. In the circle of light thrown by the lantern, they dug two graves. It was eerily similar to another grave they’d dug together.

  “Thanks.”

  John shrugged. “I’m doing this for Jo, not for you.”

  “I figured.” Declan ignored the pain in his heart over the pain in his hands. “But I was saying thanks for taking care of her from now on. Her parents asked me to keep her safe, and I failed.”

  John stopped shoveling long enough to level a glare at him. “If you hadn’t pretended to be her husband and then taken advantage of her, it might have worked out better.”

  “I wanted to be her husband.” Declan hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but there it was.

  “Then why don’t you marry her, you fool? She’s obviously in love with you, even if I can’t figure out why.” John went back to shoveling.

  “I can’t take care of her. I have a black past. I don’t know how to make an honest living. Hell, I can’t even read and the woman is a walking library.” Declan couldn’t hide the self-disgust.

  “All of that is a pile of shit. You can remake yourself and do whatever you want out here.” John gestured to the open air. “The West is a fresh start. We had this conversation already, remember? You were going to become Declan Malloy. Why not do it?”

  Why not? There were a thousand reasons, not the least of which was Declan was afraid. He would fail her, they could starve, she could get sick again and this time not survive.

  Declan shook his head, each moment a stab in his heart. “She deserves better than a thug from the gutters of New York with scarred knuckles and a stained heart.”

  “Suit yourself, but I think you’re a goddamn fool if you let her go.”

  “I ain’t gonna argue with you.” Declan slammed the shovel into the dirt, as if he could dig away his unhappiness.

  The two of them worked in the soft, sandy soil until the graves were deep enough. Sweat dripped down Declan’s skin. He stuck the shovel in the pile of soil and sucked in some much-needed air. John wiped his forehead on a sleeve.

  “Let’s get this finished and we can take a dip in the river to wash off the stench.”

  Declan didn’t ask if it was the stench of the sweat, the dirt or the dead bodies. All of them crowded his senses, choking him. They carried the men one at a time, placing them into the crude graves. He wouldn’t look at their faces or allow guilt to plague him. Drummond and Parker had stolen from them, kept them captive and threatened Jo’s life. Hell, they’d marked her head with their pistols.

  He wished he could kill them all over again.

  With that bloodthirsty thought, he shoveled the dirt over the medic’s body. Drummond might have provided a service to the folks at Fort John, but he did more harm than good. No doubt Declan and Jo weren’t the first folks to be taken advantage of by the man. He had it good there, but greed must have driven him to chase them. Money had turned many men to the dark si
de of themselves.

  Declan included.

  They threw the shovels into the wagon, then headed to the river to wash. John held the lantern and led the way while Declan carried the tarp.

  “Don’t go more than three feet out. There’s a drop-off and the current’s damn strong. I don’t want to go looking for your carcass in the dark.” John set the lantern on a rock and sat down to yank off his boots.

  Declan stepped into the water without removing anything. He was covered in dirt and sweat, including the inside of his boots. The cool water lapped at him, rinsing away the grit and blood. He went out farther than three feet, ignoring John’s warning and his shout. Declan closed his eyes and let himself drop off the edge and into the swirling current.

  “Callahan!” John’s hoarse shout preceded a hand yanking his collar so tight he couldn’t breathe. Then he was being hauled up on the bank of the river by a cursing, furious Malloy. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Declan sucked in a much-needed breath before he answered. “Going for a swim. I’m filthy.”

  “Looked to me like you were trying to permanently go for a swim.” John took off his sodden hat and slapped it against his leg, spraying water everywhere. “You stupid son of a bitch. You have a woman who loves you and you’re going to throw it away?”

  Declan put his elbows on his knees, his gut churning. “It doesn’t matter what I do. I’m not the man for Josephine. She deserves better.”

  “I’m done trying to knock some sense into that anvil head of yours. The wagon is leaving in two minutes. Be on it or be on your way.” John had never sounded resigned, in all the times he’d spoken to Declan. Until now. Declan didn’t know whether to be glad or weep because he’d just lost the one friend he’d made.

  Jo sat in the small tub, the water long since cooled. Frankie left her alone, puttering around in the kitchen for a late dinner. The men would be back shortly and the curtain separating her from the main living area wouldn’t protect her for long.

  Her thoughts tumbled around in her head, caught between wanting to forgive Declan and nursing the hurt he inflicted. If she were honest with herself, he tried to prevent her from consummating their faux marriage, but Jo didn’t listen. She initiated their joining and enjoyed every adulterous second of it.

  She was going to hell in a thrice if she didn’t stop thinking about Declan’s body. Yet she couldn’t help but remember how he touched her, taught her pleasure and shared everything with her. She made a face. No, not everything. He forgot to share the part that he didn’t want a future with her.

  Frankie poked her head around the side of the curtain. “That water must be cold, cherie. I have warmed a towel for you.”

  Jo sighed. “Oui, merci.” She rose from the water and accepted the towel proffered by her sister. The soft cloth enveloped her, chasing away the chill from the air.

  Frankie rubbed Jo’s arms, adding to her comfortable warmth. “Do you want to speak of what troubles you?”

  “Declan.”

  “Ah, well, this I did know. He is a man and they are trouble.” Frankie smiled. “In truth, I am grateful to him for nursing you, keeping you safe and bringing you here. I did not believe I would see you for years.”

  The sisters shared a heartfelt hug and Jo had to blink back tears. She was happy to see her sister, more than she’d realized. Not being a female prone to emotions, she was in uncharted waters.

  “I need to thank you for your hospitality. Without you, I would have been without a home.” She managed a shaky smile.

  “There are no thanks required.” Frankie frowned; her green gaze had grown serious. “I cannot imagine what you have been through to arrive here. However, no matter how old we are or what has transpired, you will always have a home with us.”

  Jo’s throat tightened. She nodded and proceeded to dry herself off. Within a few minutes, she was dressed in one of Frankie’s dresses, which was too big up top and too short, but it was blessedly clean. To her delight, Frankie had already washed Jo’s only dress and hung it to dry near the fire. She slipped on her spectacles, which her sister had also cleaned. The lack of dirt and grime made her feel like a new person.

  “I have tea for special occasions. I believe this would be such an occasion.” Frankie went to the shiny black cook stove and stirred the embers. “I left a hairbrush for you there on the chair.”

  Jo sat down on the comfortable chair in front of the fire and set to the tedious task of getting the knots out of her hair. Frankie puttered around the kitchen and Jo tamed her unruly locks. The air in the house was peaceful and calm, exactly what she needed.

  Until her older sister decided to speak.

  “Do you love him?”

  Jo stopped in mid-motion, her heart pinching at the question. “Why do you ask?”

  “You are angry because he was not honest with you, but I see there is more to be said. Thoughts left unspoken.” Frankie brought two steaming mugs of tea and sat across from Jo in the matching chair. She set the mugs on the small table between them. “I am intimately familiar with not expressing how I feel. I almost lost John because of my failure to be honest.”

  Her sister’s confession gave Jo pause. “I have told him I love him. He failed to be honest with me about staying together.”

  “That is my message to you, sister. Give him one more chance. Perhaps he will surprise you. Do not give up.” Frankie took her hands and squeezed. “Love is not something to throw away when times are difficult.”

  Jo knew her sister was right. She had to give Declan another opportunity to change his mind. She loved him enough to move past his actions and look forward to the future. It would be bleak if they parted ways for good.

  “I will speak to him and tell him what I need and how I feel. I love him so very much.” She was hopeful, more so than she had been since Declan revealed his deception. Love could heal and forgive if she gave it a chance.

  The front door of the house opened and John walked in, his expression hard and his clothes wrinkled. As he wrestled with his boots, his wife walked over to assist him.

  “What has happened?” Frankie frowned at him. “These boots are wet.”

  “Callahan jumped in the river and I had to yank him out.” He wasn’t one to grouse or complain, so Jo knew it had been a serious situation.

  “Is he well?” She stared at the closed door waiting for Declan to appear, but knowing in her heart he would not.

  “He’s fine. Stubborn and foolish, but fine. He headed for the barn to bunk down. I thought it best given the fact you ain’t really married.” John looked at his wife for approval and she smiled at him.

  “Oui. You did the right thing. In the morning, they can speak of their troubles and resolve them.”

  Jo wasn’t sure what would happen tomorrow but she knew she had to speak to Declan. Her future, and her heart, depended on it.

  Declan stared up at the rafters of the barn, still shiny and new. The barn smelled good, which was unusual. In his experience, barns carried the scents of all the critters that had spent time within their walls. This building only had a few horses in stalls and was mostly wide open. The interior was incomplete, same as Declan.

  If only he weren’t twisted up inside over Josephine and what to do. He might have let the river carry him away, but that was the coward’s way out. Declan owed her the courtesy of telling her the truth to her face. He wasn’t a coward and he was glad John had verbally punched him over his stupid dunk in the water.

  The problem was he didn’t yet know how to tell her he was leaving.

  A rustling in the barn and the restless whinny of one of the horses told him he wasn’t alone. He sat up and found the butt of the pistol lying beside him.

  “Declan?”

  At Jo’s soft voice, he released his grip on the pistol, but a different type of anxiety gripped him. She had come to have it out and he wasn’t ready. Declan closed his eyes and tried to think of a way to tell her he had to leave.

  “Are
you in here?”

  “Aye.” He waited for her to follow his voice.

  She stepped toward him looking like an angel come down from heaven, wearing a white voluminous nightdress, carrying a candle that set her aglow. Her unbound hair shimmered in the golden light while her spectacles heightened the lush brown eyes and impossibly long lashes behind them.

  “Josephine.” He breathed her name on a sigh. “You are the most beautiful sight I’ve seen in my life.”

  Her brows went up. “We both know that is not true. I am not beautiful nor will I ever be. Why do you feel the need to flatter me?”

  He growled in his throat, angry she would think so little of herself. “Ye are beautiful, Jo. Don’t let any idiot convince ye otherwise.” He got to his feet and she stopped moving. “Aye, I wasn’t completely honest with ye, but only insofar as staying with you permanent-like. Everything else, everything, was the God’s honest truth.”

  Declan couldn’t tell her he loved her again. No, those words mustn’t pass his lips. Yet as he drank in the sight of her, his body hardened to the point of near pain. She was incredible, this fake wife of his. The best person he had met in his life, and she loved him. It was a gift he didn’t deserve, but damned if he hadn’t taken a bite of it anyway.

  “Wh-why should I believe you?” The candle wavered ever so slightly, and he smiled.

  “I can smell ye, lass. Your body betrays what your mouth denies. Ye came here to do something and it wasn’t to talk.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I do not know how to respond to such frank words.”

  He got to his feet. “You don’t talk. You do.”

  Madness. He was utterly, absolutely mad. Yet he stood and walked toward her, his chest bare and his heart raw. He could not resist Josephine. She stood stock still, the candle wavering in her hand. Declan leaned forward and blew out the flame lest they start a real fire in the barn.

  He took the candle from her and set it by the stall door as he closed it, shutting out the rest of the world. It was wrong, so very wrong, to contemplate being with her again. He was leaving tomorrow for good. But here he was reaching for her, his body already hard as steel, needing, wanting, to have one more taste.