This Side of Forever (Book Five of the Brides of the West Series)

by Hestand, Rita

  "Rest and get well…" He smiled again. "No matter what happens, I love you Amy, and I always have…"

  "I know that…now!" She smiled. "Now…go, because if you stay…." She smiled impishly at him.

  He looked at her as he started to open the door. "Someday I'm going to kiss you all over and give you more babies than you know what to do with…"

  Then he left…leaving her with a heated smile on her lips.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Martin went to the hotel first.

  The desk clerk saw him coming and tried to run to the back room, but Martin was too fast for him and stopped him. He pulled him into the back room and pulled him up by the collar once more. Martins' face was flushed and angry.

  "Where are they?" He demanded to know.

  Sweat began to pepper the desk clerk's face, as fear made him shiver.

  He tried to jerk loose of Martin, but Martin was too powerful. After struggling against him for several minutes, he gave up and looked into his angry face. "I don't really know sir. Please put me down." The little man squeaked.

  "You little pip squeak, you know. And I want to know. Are they up there?" he motioned for the stairs.

  "No…" The desk clerk shook his head.

  "Then where are they?"

  "I don't know for sure where they are. They left…they aren't here any longer." He said with such relief that Martin took a second look at the little man, with thick glasses and slicked back hair.

  "Where did they go?" He growled. "Out with it, if you value your life and job."

  "I don't know. They didn't tell me. I'm just a desk clerk; I don't go around asking where someone is going, sir." He answered none too politely. "Leon would fire me if I did."

  Martin weighed what the little man said. He considered the information. "They have no horse nor carriage, how did they leave?" Martin reasoned in his head as though talking to himself. "They didn't just walk off, I'd have seen them."

  "I run a hotel sir, not an information center. Our customers go many places, and it's none of our business, as long as they pay for their rooms." The man spoke up now, indignant at the way Martin was treating him. Martin jerked him back in the air.

  "Did they pay for their rooms?" Martin asked.

  "One room, and yes, they paid in advance." The desk clerk answered that question quickly.

  "Tell me!" Martin demanded, throwing him against the wall. "Who did they leave with?"

  "I don't know…" The clerk wouldn't look at him and Martin knew he was lying. "Tell me now or I'll break that scrawny neck of yours."

  "They left with a man…that's all I know."

  "What man?" Martin came at him again. "What man?"

  "Clay Reno…" the desk clerk finally said, ashamed that he couldn't keep quiet. He spat the name out like a snake about to bite him.

  "Clay Reno!" Martin stormed out of the hotel. "I'll kill him."

  He eased up his hold on the desk clerk. "Go on back to your desk. Not a word to anyone about this, you understand, or I will return and kill you."

  "Y-yes sir." The little man almost ran to the desk, giving Martin a quick scowl as he adjusted his tie.

  Martin went home, saddled up and headed for the Reno ranch. It had to be where they had gone. Where else?

  His mind felt numb. He couldn't think. It hadn't dawned on him that someone might come to their rescue. He knew he had to kill Reno and his wife, but how he was going to accomplish it, was beyond him now. The driving force to be with Amy kept him focused on only one thing…her!

  ~*~

  "How are you feeling this morning?" Beatrice asked as she finished dressing.

  "Better," Amy smiled trying to sit up in the bed without hurting herself.

  "I figured you would. I'm glad dear."

  Amy dressed slowly and was about to go to the kitchen when her mother stopped her.

  "Amy, I have something I need to tell you." Beatrice took her arm and had her sit on the edge of the bed with her.

  "What is it, mother?" Amy asked as she looked into her worried face. "What's troubling you?" Amy asked.

  "How do you know anything is troubling me?" Beatrice asked, her voice sounded a bit off.

  "When you love someone," Amy said staring at her mother and smoothing the hair from her mother's face. "You can see it in their eyes."

  "There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I haven't had the courage to until now." Her mother said standing up erect and carrying herself proudly even though, her hands shook as she did so.

  Amy watched her closely, wanting to ease her mother's anxiety.

  "Go on Mother. There is nothing you can't share with me."

  Her mother turned to look into her innocent face. "I know that dear, but it's still hard for me to tell you. I've waited too long…"

  "What is it mother? What's troubling you so?" Amy asked standing up and putting her arms around her mother.

  "There's no easy way to say this."

  "Okay," Amy smiled indulgently. "There have been a lot of confessions lately; I think I can handle it."

  "I hope you can…."

  "Mother, you're beginning to worry me. What could possibly be so wrong?"

  Beatrice looked into her daughter's eyes. "What if I told you that Martin Clark….was not your father?"

  Amy felt a strange emotion creep up her back. "What are you talking about? Of course he is."

  "No…he isn't, dear." Beatrice came toward her, smoothing her hair and kissing the top of her head. "Your father was Joe Collins. I met him long ago; I was madly in love with him. Much like you and Clay are. He was a simple man, a good man. His only weakness was playing poker. We loved each other so much…" Her mother couldn't shake the memories.

  "Joe Collins? I've never heard of him. But…I don't understand."

  "Joe was killed in a poker game. Someone accused him of cheating because he was winning for the first time in his life. Joe wouldn't cheat at anything. Nevertheless, he was killed. And I was pregnant with you…"

  "Mother!"

  "Please try to understand. Don't judge me so callously, Amy. I was so in love with Joe. However, my folks were not permitting me to marry him. We wanted to be married. We even planned to run off and do it. He was going to play one more game and win some money so we could run off together. He was killed instead. His murderer was put in jail and hanged a few weeks later. And I married Martin instead, like my folks wanted. So you see my dear, that's why I can relate to you and Clay so easily. I felt the same things you feel right now. I loved Joe with a passion. I was proud to have his child, but I never once told Martin. He'd have divorced me then and I'd have no support. My parents were not the understanding kind. It would have been a huge scandal they couldn't live with. I had to keep it a secret, as much for your sake as mine."

  "Why haven't you told me…in all this time?" Amy cried as tears fell down her cheek.

  "That's simple…pride. I was ashamed. I felt you wouldn't understand, just as I knew Martin wouldn't. I was a coward. Now, I think it's important that you know this. Martin is not your father, and I'm afraid that what he feels for you in no longer a fatherly kind of love. Do you understand what I am saying?"

  Her mother stared into her innocent face.

  "I think so…but…"

  "Listen, Amy. You are in more danger than you realize. You and Clay must know this. I'm so afraid he'll manage to get hold of you. When we went to get your things, I found a picture of you near his bed. His mind is warped, I'm afraid. And there is nothing I can do…."

  "Oh mother!" Amy grabbed her and pulled her around to look into her worried face. "Do you think he knows?"

  Beatrice looked wide-eyed. "I've never told him. Never let on. Never said Joe's name in front of him. The only possible way he could know is if my own parents knew and told him."

  "Would they have?"

  "I don't know…I would think not, but one never knows. My parents would have done anything to keep me from marrying Joe. Anything." Bea
trice admitted. "Much like Martin and I were about Clay all this time. We were wrong."

  Trying to make sense of this news, Amy pulled her mother to the edge of the bed and made her sit down.

  She looked at her and smiled through her tears. "Tell me about him…my real father."

  Beatrice pulled her hankie from her sleeve and wiped Amy's eyes. "He was very handsome; he had dark red hair, that's where you get the red hair. He was a gentle kind of man. Not an evil bone in his body. He would take me for long walks among the buttercups and Indian Paints. He would quote Shakespeare and read to me. He could play the piano like a professional. He could draw, and he could sing. He was such an artist. His only bad habit was poker. He loved the game but unfortunately, he rarely won. He stayed broke most of the time. And he loved me…above everything except maybe poker. It was his downfall. But I loved him. I still do." Beatrice cried. "I knew all his strength and weaknesses. And he knew mine."

  "He sounds like a wonderful man. I'm so sorry you could not be married, mother. It must have hurt terribly." Amy saw the likeness of herself and Clay in the story and related to her feelings easily.

  "He was a wonderful man. He'd have been so happy if he'd known you were on the way. I was barely pregnant when he died. I remember so well, the day he died, I drove the wagon to a town not too far away, to a strange doctor and he confirmed the pregnancy. At first, I was thrilled, and I was going to tell Joe that evening when he came to see me. But…he never showed up. And he never knew…" Beatrice stared off into space. "Somehow, I think he does now. I think he's been watching over you and perhaps me all this time."

  Amy saw the rush of tears and she so wanted to comfort her mother.

  Amy hugged her mother. "I so wish he had lived…"

  "Yes, so do I." Beatrice wiped her eyes and then looked at Amy. "If Martin does know, somehow, you could be in more danger. He would think it all right to be in love with you. But it isn't. Whether he is blood kin or not, he's raised you. He is a step-father and it is wrong for him to lust after you…"

  "Mother…do you really think he does?" Amy cried unable to grasp it.

  "Oh yes, I'm sure he does. My picture isn't by his bed." Beatrice cried.

  "Maybe it was, and he removed it. Maybe he didn't want the reminder that he kicked you out of your own house." Amy frowned. "I'm sure that's what it was."

  "No…I noticed a change in him after Johnny died. As the years went by, it was worse. He's sick and doesn't even know it. Johnny was his son, his only real heir."

  The strange and unwelcome feeling inside Amy assailed her once more, making her stomach knot. "What are we going to do?"

  "You're Clay will do his best to protect us, I'm sure. But…whatever happens…don't let Martin have you." Beatrice coaxed her to take a small derringer.

  "Mother!"

  "You could never live with yourself if he touched you. This is only good at close range they tell me. So if he gets hold of you, be sure and keep it close at all time." Beatrice handed her the gun. "Now take it. If you have to, use it on him."

  Amy's mouth flew open and she shook her head. "I couldn't kill him, mother…."

  "You may have to!" Her mother cried.

  "It won't come to that. I'm sure it won't." Amy shook her head and rejected the gun, but her mother put it in her hands and nodded.

  "If you have to, use it." Beatrice said. "Keep it close to you always."

  Amy looked at the cold hard little gun that could kill a man and rejected it in her head. She couldn't kill!

  "Promise me…you'll use it, if it comes to that." Her mother cried on her shoulder.

  "Oh mother…." Amy clutched her.

  "I know what I'm asking of you, Amy. But, I won't let him do what he wants with you. And you can't let him." Beatrice warned her. "No matter what you can't let him."

  "But…how would I live with myself, if I killed him?" She asked the tears rolling down her cheeks now.

  "Better than what he wants of you. How could you live with that? You'd feel guilty all your life, for something that wasn't your fault, and he'd have control over you. You must not allow that. No matter what, you mustn't."

  Amy stared wide-eyed at her now. And slowly she nodded.

  "Alright…mother, I promise." Amy agreed. She felt the cold gun in her hands and she immediately put it away in her bag.

  "Good…now, dry your face and let's go help Becca fix breakfast."

  Amy nodded; she washed her face in the washbowl and patted it dry. Her eyes were sore, but she could see out of it now. Her ribs were better, but breathing was still very hard.

  She combed her hair and they went into the kitchen.

  Becca was up and the coffee was made, but she was just beginning breakfast. Beatrice worked right by her side and they had breakfast ready for all the men in no time. Amy set the table and washed dishes as they dirtied them.

  Amy liked Becca right away. She knew they would be great friends. Beatrice watched the two of them talk about breakfast, the men, and they shared many things that morning. Amy smiled to herself. It was going to be a good day. She just knew it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Clay, Billy, Juan and the rest of the men ate breakfast in a hurry. The conversation was lively and warm and Clay got the feeling that all of these people had become his family and he liked it. He sincerely hoped Juan would stay on.

  However, there was little time to talk to Amy this morning with work staring them in the face.

  Billy came up to Becca, kissed her on the back of the neck and again on the mouth when she turned around to look at him.

  "See you later, sweetheart." Billy smiled playfully as he adjusted his hat, winked at Becca and followed Juan out the door.

  Clay saw Beatrice sitting in the parlor and went to speak to her for a minute. "I don't want to alarm Amy, but I'm expecting Martin to show up any time now. He's got a way of bullying the information out of people, I'm sure you know that already."

  "Yes…yes I do. Clay, I gave Amy a derringer…in case she needs it. I told her she might have to shoot him…if he gets past the rest of us."

  Clay nodded. "That was a wise thing to do. I should have thought of it. Do you think she'll be able to use it?"

  "She promised me…" Beatrice cried. "Things are happening so fast right now. So many revelations for her to hear and accept. It's hard for her. But she's stronger than she looks."

  "Hey now, no tears. This is going to be over before you know it, and we'll be planning a wedding. Afterwards, I want you to truly consider this your home too." Clay told her. "We can be a family. And I don't know about you, but I like big families. What do you think?"

  She glanced up at him. "You mean that?"

  "Yes ma'am, I do." Clay smiled.

  "I can't believe you are just so gracious. You remind me of someone I used to know…"

  Clay smiled. "Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment."

  "That's how I meant it." She smiled back.

  "Good, now don't you fret. If trouble does break out, there are handguns in my room, help yourself to whatever you think you can handle. Keep the door bolted unless it's one of us that needs in. And don't worry so much. This is gonna work out. We do outnumber him."

  "I guess you are right. But I'm like Amy, I'm not sure I could kill him if I had to." Beatrice cried.

  "You are stronger than you think…" He winked and went to the kitchen to talk to Amy a minute.

  Becca had gone into her room to dress more appropriately and Amy was just finishing up the dishes.

  "Hey, that was a swell breakfast." He came up beside her.

  Amy smiled, "Mother and Becca did most of the cooking. I just washed dishes."

  "You do that well, too." He smiled into her face. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid he'd hurt her. "I sure could use a kiss about now…" he moved to look into her eyes.

  She laughed. But when she saw he meant it, her mouth flew open, and nothing came out. He bent his head and touched his lips to hers. It was
a test to see if she'd welcome it. He didn't have to wonder long. She put down the towel and turned into him; lifting herself for his kiss, she wrapped her arms around him and hung on.

  Surprised by her quick surrender, he tenderly put his arms around her and held her very gently as his lips swept against hers, again and again. She responded with a slight moan.

  He wanted to crush her to him, to kiss her silly, to carry her to his bed and show her how much he wanted her, but he could do nothing but feather touch her.

  She was breathless when they came up for air. "Oh Clay…please…hold me…just for a little while." She whispered in his ear.

  Looking about for some privacy, he walked her into his bedroom and shut the door. This time the kisses were passionate and mind boggling. He felt the heat between them, the needs growing, festering to some strange and wonderful climax. His kisses lingered, hungrily seeking her responses and getting them.

  When they drew apart, they burst into laughter. "We do need a preacher, don't we?" She whispered.

  "The sooner the better." He said pulling at her lip gently, avoiding where she was hurt, and yet needing the feel of her against him, he wrapped his arms tighter.

  His lips trailed down her neck and she leaned back to allow him access. His lips torched the cleavage of her dress as his nose nudged the dress away.

  "God I want you…" He was shaking from the needs of his own body as he explored, and pushed the tiny buttons away from her dress.

  Her breast swelled against his mouth, as though knowing what he needed. "Oh Clay…don't stop…I need you too…" she cried.

  But her words stilled him. A cold flash of reality made him stop.

  "You're my bride, and I won't take you like this, in some fevered rush. When I do…it will be a gentle taking, filled with my love for you. I do love you Amy. I always have…."

  "I know that now…," she cried. "But…Clay…we might never have the chance…if not now." She cried.

  He bent over her, kissed her thoroughly, and raised his head, looking into her soft brown eyes. "We will have that chance. That much I promise…."