The Lawman Claims His Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Logan lowered his head to meet hers, but stopped just shy of touching his lips to her mouth. This was to be their first real kiss as husband and wife. He wanted Megan to be sure this was what she wanted. So he waited, his lips a mere whisper from hers, giving her the chance to turn her cheek if she wasn’t prepared for anything more intimate.

  She released a very female sigh and closed the distance between them herself.

  Lost. Logan was completely and utterly lost to this woman. To this moment. Fully aware of how well they fit together, he wrapped her tighter in his embrace and deepened their kiss.

  Instead of shying away, Megan dug her fingers into the thick wool of his jacket. She felt soft and pliant in his arms, but also eager. Bold even.

  Logan’s mood instantly shifted from tenderness to something more primitive. The intensity of the new emotion frightened him.

  Matters were getting out of hand.

  Logan tried to stop the kiss, but Megan gripped his shoulders harder. No. No. She was still fragile, he reminded himself. The thought gave him enough strength to tear his mouth from hers.

  Breathing hard, he stared into her eyes.

  A deep shade of pink danced along her cheeks. She looked fresh, innocent, and thoroughly kissed. He lowered his head again, but stopped himself just in time. Focusing on the jagged knife cut on her throat helped.

  This wasn’t the right moment for this. Their journey wasn’t complete. She was still in danger, still vulnerable.

  Logan reluctantly took a full step away from his bride and ran a hand through his hair. He forced a light note in his voice. “Good morning, Mrs. Mitchell.”

  A dazzling smile was her only response.

  It took herculean strength to take yet another step away from her. “We’ll head out in ten minutes.”

  She nodded, then caught sight of the lake and gasped with pleasure.

  “Go explore,” he urged. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

  She headed toward the water while Logan checked on the horse. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept a careful watch on Megan’s progress. She took cautious steps, favoring her sprained ankle. At last, she made it to the water’s edge.

  Then she threw back her head and opened her arms wide, as if she were surrendering herself to her new life.

  Logan’s heart flipped over in his chest. He wanted to go to his wife. He needed to go to her, needed to bask in her joy of the moment and forget all the trouble they’d faced in the last twenty-four hours.

  Quickly unhitching the horse, Logan led the mare to the lake, then moved to Megan’s side, slipping his arm across her shoulder.

  She leaned into him and sighed.

  They stood that way for several minutes, enjoying the view. A companionable silence fell between them.

  “It’s so beautiful.” She stared out over the lake. “Look how the colors of the dawn are reflected in the water.”

  He heard the happiness in her voice. “I’m glad you like it here.”

  She looked serene, at peace. Nothing like the frightened woman he’d found locked in a jail cell just yesterday.

  Had it only been a day since their reunion?

  So much had happened in that short time. Nevertheless, Logan was confident he’d been right to take Megan away from Denver. This moment erased any doubt. She was blossoming right before his eyes.

  Soon her memory would return. And when it did, no matter what happened as a result, they would face the consequences together.

  “Ready to go home?” he asked.

  “Yes. But first, tell me a little about your family.” She swiveled her head to look him directly in the eyes. “Will they like me?”

  “They’re going to love you.”

  His words did nothing to ease the apprehension in her eyes and Logan realized he’d told her very little about his family through the years. Practically nothing, in fact, while his parents and siblings knew almost everything about her.

  Recognizing his mistake, Logan wondered why he’d told Megan so little about his family. The answer came quickly. Hunter. Any talk of the Mitchells would inevitably lead to a discussion about the oldest son. And why he was no longer in any of their lives.

  “Logan?” Megan asked cautiously. “Is there some thing I should know about your family before we arrive at the Flying M?”

  Forcing a smile on his lips, he dragged a fingertip down her cheek. “There’s nothing unusual about us.” True, from a certain perspective. “The Mitchells are just like any other family.” Didn’t most have an estranged member or two somewhere in their midst?

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  Fair enough. He had been vague. “We work hard, play harder, laugh well and often. We turn to God in times of need and praise Him for our blessings. Life can be rough at times, but the Mitchells always work together and somehow everything seems easier because of that.” A flash of Hunter’s angry face filled his mind. “Or, at least, tolerable.”

  “Your family sounds lovely.”

  “They are, Megan.” He no longer had to force a smile. “Oh, they are.”

  Something had changed, Megan realized. No, not some thing. She had changed—all because her husband had finally kissed her, as a husband kisses his wife.

  Smiling, she pressed her fingertips to the exact spot Logan’s mouth had descended upon hers. His kiss had brought a feeling of rightness to their union that hadn’t been there before.

  For the first time since walking into Mattie’s brothel, Megan felt at peace. Really at peace. The sapphire on her finger caught the morning light. Although she couldn’t see into the future, she trusted that God was directing her path, leading her to this new chapter in her life. With Logan. And his family, a family that sounded altogether wonderful.

  “Look, Megan.” He pointed to the hill straight ahead. “The Flying M is just over the next rise.”

  A shiver of anticipation had her leaning forward in the seat. The wagon seemed to chug along at an impossibly slow pace, but finally rolled to the top of the hill.

  Megan’s breath caught in her throat. The Flying M was everything she’d dreamed a ranch would look like. The sloped roofs, the rows of windows along the first and second floors, the rocking chairs on the wraparound porch, all added up to a warm, welcoming feel. The corral off to her left, with its tidy wooden fence and large, healthy-looking horses reminded her that this was a working ranch. Even the makeshift swing hanging under a large shade tree was a happy surprise.

  Blinking rapidly, breathing harder than usual, Megan darted her gaze in countless directions. Every sight, sound and smell was a delight to her senses. And for this one moment in time, she didn’t care that she’d lost a portion of her memory. She didn’t care that a killer might be after her. She was home. Home at last.

  “Well?” Logan asked. “What you think?”

  “It’s…it’s…” She couldn’t find the right words as her gaze bounced from the buildings to the lush tree line to the craggy mountains in the distance. “It’s…”

  “Big?” A hint of amusement danced in his eyes.

  “Well, yes. It is big. It’s also…” She paused, taking note of how the wall of snowcapped mountains created a perfect backdrop for the ranch. Her fingers itched to recreate the scene on paper. “Breathtaking.”

  “You like it, then?”

  Hearing the relief in his voice, she dragged her gaze away from the ranch and focused on Logan’s face. “I think,” she said, covering his hand with hers, “I’m going to be very happy living here with you.”

  “You will. I’ll make sure of it.” As if to punctuate his statement, a birdsong sweetened the air around them.

  Suddenly the horse reared, nearly tossing Megan out of the seat.

  She grabbed Logan as he struggled with the reins, trying to calm the horse with sheer brute strength.

  Searching for the source of trouble, Megan swiveled her head to the left. She caught sight of a pair of large, black and white dogs barreling down the
lane toward them. Both animals were barking madly.

  Much as the horse had done, Megan instinctively reared back in her seat. She wasn’t usually frightened of dogs. In fact, she enjoyed most of the ones she came across. But the two snarling brutes heading for the wagon were big, bold and possibly rabid.

  “Not to worry,” Logan said, still struggling to steady the horse. “That’s Sally and Jake, two of our best range dogs.”

  “Range dogs?”

  “That’s right. They were bred specifically to work the herds. Whoa, now.” He clicked his tongue at the horse. “My father bought the two at a field trial about seven years ago.”

  Megan tried to smile, but Logan’s explanation did nothing to settle her nerves. “Oh.”

  Setting the brake, Logan jumped to the ground and moved quickly to the spooked horse. He whispered soft words of comfort, running his hand along the mare’s sleek neck.

  Once the horse was calm again, Logan moved into the direct path of the approaching dogs.

  “Hello, you big, beautiful curs.”

  They leaped into the air, nearly knocking him over with their exuberance.

  Laughing, he wrestled both of them to the ground. They immediately jumped back to their feet, licked his face and the process started all over again. As he ruffled their thick fur, Logan talked to the pair as if they were his old friends. Once he had them somewhat under control—somewhat—he commanded them to “sit.”

  Their bottoms instantly dropped to the ground. Their tails slapped the dirt with loud thuds as they watched Logan with expectant gazes.

  “Stay.”

  Neither animal budged.

  Turning his back on them, Logan joined Megan again. “Come meet Shaky Jake and Sally Mae.” He helped her out of the wagon. “Some of the hardest working dogs you’ll ever come across.”

  Eyeing the two closely and taking special note of their very pointy fangs, Megan allowed Logan to lead her to the animals. One of the dogs started shaking wildly, but he stayed obediently rooted to the spot. “That would be Shaky Jake,” Logan pointed out.

  Megan gave him a wry smile. “I figured as much.”

  “And this fine looking female is Sally Mae.” He scratched the dog’s neck. “She’s the most loyal of the two.”

  Sally Mae proved his point by leaning heavily against Logan’s leg.

  Now that they weren’t running in crazed circles Megan was able to get a better look at the dogs. Both had long, shiny hair, big brown eyes and were mostly black all over with large white patches in between. Jake was considerably larger than Sally Mae, while Sally Mae was the calmer of the two.

  “Let them sniff your hand.”

  Megan reached out slowly. Very, very slowly.

  Taking turns, the dog’s politely touched their noses to her fingertips. Shaky Jake went so far as to shove his head under her palm and proceeded to whine like a baby.

  Charmed, Megan rubbed the dog’s head.

  Sally Mae wasn’t to be ignored. Within seconds both dogs were alternately bumping into Megan’s legs and pressing their heads into her hands.

  A grin split Logan’s face. “They like you.”

  “They’re delightful.”

  “Here I was thinking the same thing about you.” He shoved the dogs out of his way and then tugged her into his arms. “Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Mitchell.”

  A rush of pleasure shot through her. “I’m glad to be here.”

  He lowered his head, but just as his lips touched hers a loud whoop rent the air.

  “Logan.” Another bellow was followed by Jake and Sally Mae’s frantic barking. “Is it really you?”

  Muttering something under his breath, Logan lifted his head and frowned. “Prepare yourself, my dear.”

  “Prepare myself?” A shiver of fear traveled up Megan’s spine. She tried to peer around her husband, but he stood in her way. “For what?”

  “You’ll see.” He touched her cheek softly, gave her an apologetic grimace and then stepped farther back. Jake and Sally Mae spun in frantic circles by his side.

  Arms outstretched, palms facing forward, he looked as if he were…surrendering?

  “Logan?” Suddenly afraid for her husband, Megan’s voice skipped over her words. “I…I don’t understand.”

  A corner of his mouth kicked up in a sardonic grin. “Let’s just say, some of the Mitchell offspring can be a bit unruly.”

  With that dubious remark, he took two more very large steps back. And was immediately tackled to the ground by a band of blond-haired ruffians.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As a longtime resident of a large orphanage, Megan had witnessed her share of impromptu wrestling matches. No matter how many sermons Pastor Beau preached on proper Christian behavior, many of the boys couldn’t help being, well…boys.

  But what she’d always considered “play fighting” couldn’t begin to describe the Mitchell brood’s enthusiastic take on the subject.

  She was seriously concerned for her husband.

  Except, Logan was…

  Laughing?

  Megan drew in a steadying breath and squinted past the flying dust. She counted three others besides her husband. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Logan appeared to be enjoying himself. Never mind the fact that he was buried under a pile of tangled legs, swinging arms, and balled fists. Fists, that seemed to make contact with his midsection far too often.

  In all her years around rowdy boys, Megan had never been able to understand what drove them to wrestle with such ferocity. Didn’t they realize one of them could end up hurt?

  More to the point, how could Logan possibly find this fun? Apparently, she didn’t know her husband as well as she’d thought.

  Shaky Jake, proving he was as much boy as the rest of them, joined in the antics. He ran in frantic circles, leaped over the pile of snarled bodies, barked happily and occasionally nipped at flying fists.

  The scene was one big unruly mess.

  At least there was no blood. Always a welcome sign.

  Sally Mae, decidedly the wiser of the two animals, trotted over to Megan and sat down. She looked up at Megan with a rueful expression, as if to say, “What are we going to do with our boys?”

  Megan chuckled despite herself. Their “boys” didn’t show any signs of tiring. This could go on for a while. “Well, my furry little friend.” She scratched the dog’s ear and sighed. “I’ve found it best to let displays such as these play out to the bitter end.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  Megan gasped and swung around, searching anxiously for the owner of the amused, feminine voice. Her gaze connected with steel-blue eyes the exact color of Logan’s. This had to be his mother. Although there were few lines on the pretty, round face, a considerable amount of gray laced the woman’s wheat-colored strands.

  Megan smoothed a hand over her own hair, desperate to make a good impression. “You must be Logan’s mother. I’m—”

  “Megan.”

  She blinked. “You know who I am?”

  “Well, of course.” The woman’s gaze softened. “Logan has talked about you for years.”

  What could he have possibly said to put that affectionate, welcoming look in his mother’s eyes? Surely nothing Megan could live up to. “He’s told you about me?”

  “You’ve been the main topic of his letters since he first met you.” Not even attempting to stop her tears, Mrs. Mitchell dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her apron. “We’ve been praying for the day we could finally meet you. And praise God, here it is at last.”

  The ground seemed to shift beneath Megan’s feet at the woman’s heartfelt words. If she’d ever doubted Logan’s devotion during his five-year absence, if she’d ever feared he had only fulfilled his promise to marry her out of duty, this was her proof otherwise. His family had been waiting to meet her, all because he’d talked about her and mentioned her in his letters.

  But if he’d been proud enough to mention her so often, why hadn’t he told Megan a
bout his family in return? What was she missing?

  “Hey, Ma.” Logan called out from the beneath the pile of brothers.

  “Yes, Logan.” His mother continued smiling at Megan. “What is it, dear?”

  “Megan and I…” He jumped up and tried to make his way toward them. His feet were pulled out from under him and he landed flat on his back with a grunt.

  “Megan and I,” he repeated between gulps of air, all the while dodging fists, “were married yesterday.”

  His mother shifted her gaze to her son, her mouth hanging open. Her expression cycled from shock to understanding to pure delight.

  “Well, my goodness.” She turned and lifted Megan’s left hand. She eyed the wedding ring with tears in her eyes, then pulled Megan into her arms. “Praise the Lord, you’re together at last.”

  Megan stood stiff in her new mother-in-law’s embrace. Despite only knowing her through Logan’s comments, the woman was welcoming Megan into the family. No reservations. No questions.

  Megan closed her eyes and accepted the embrace. She breathed in the smell of her new mother, a comforting mixture of flour, spices and lemon polish. As the woman stroked her hair, a quiet, indescribable feeling of wholeness settled over Megan.

  Oh, she knew she was clinging entirely too long, but there was something about the woman’s open affection that brought a comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe never. Certainly not in the presence of her own mother, a woman who’d demanded Megan call her by her given name to avoid appearing old enough to have a daughter.

  Jane Goodwin had done her best, but Megan had never felt truly loved. Not completely.

  She’d always known she could count on her Heavenly Father’s love, and she believed she was a treasured member of the Charity House family, but Megan had craved a family of her own, a real family with siblings and parents and maybe even a few yapping dogs.

  Had her prayers finally been answered?

  Logan’s mother slowly pulled back. She didn’t release Megan entirely, but rather kept her hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “Let me take a good look at my new daughter-in-law.”