Spying Joshua, the sheriff motioned to the men with their guns. "Put 'em away, fellas. No need for 'em anymore. I got this."
Mr. Grumpy, although appearing reluctant to do so, holstered his weapon and told the story to the sheriff. When he got to Joshua's accusation, Gritch's eyes narrowed and he speared Joshua with a flaming arrow gaze. "What you got to say for yourself, Smith?"
"He cheated. That's all. I showed proof to the other men. They agreed."
"You're a good fighter, huh?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
He looked around at the men and pointed to one with a brown vest and a pair of guns on his hips. "Ed, take this varmint to the jailhouse and put him in a cell. I'll deal with Smith here."
Ed nodded, drew a gun and motioned for Jackson to precede him out the doors.
"Got your memory back?" Gritch asked.
"Not all of it."
"Just enough to know a cheater, huh? How would you recognize one, Smith? Is it because you're a cheater, too?"
Everyone watched Joshua, some with growing suspicion and others with supportive looks.
"I don't cheat."
"Sheriff, we was playing just fine until Jackson showed up. Then things went kerflooey," said Grumpy.
"Hm," Gritch answered, then strode to Joshua and poked a finger in his chest. "I got my eye on you, Smith. You'd best find yourself and get the hell outta Virtue before you have an unfortunate accident."
"I've got a right to be here, same as the next guy."
Several patrons shouted their agreement, while others tried to shout them down.
"Shut the fuck up!" Gritch yelled. The noise died down. He continued to stare at Joshua, frowning. A little vein in his temple pulsed, and his thin lips got thinner. "Don't make me tell you again. If you ain't got a horse, you walk outta Virtue. Pay the Bucknell's what you own 'em for your room and board and be on your way. Your right to be here just expired."
Joshua said nothing, and the sheriff shot him one more spiked glare, turned and walked away.
Everyone started talking at once when the doors swung closed behind him. Everyone except for Joshua.
Chapter Twelve
Joshua made the long trek home that night, and even though he'd come home in the early hours of the night, rose with the sun the next morning and, before the family awakened, went back into town. By the time he got back into Virtue proper, his leg was throbbing and the bruise he'd spotted at home had swelled, stretching out his trousers. He didn't like the limp he had regained, but there was no fixing it. He had things to do and nothing ought to stop him.
He went directly to the livery stable and paid some of his gambling money to Mark Milner, the owner. He got a good quality pie-eyed, dapple gray, quarter horse. There was some spirit in the gelding, but he responded well to Joshua when he gave the animal a test ride. The ride made his leg worse, but he gritted his teeth and dealt with it.
The next stop he made was the mercantile, where Mr. Dobson sold him a pair of sturdy duck pants, some underwear, three good quality shirts, a blue and silver brocade vest, and black frock coat and trousers in the style popular around Arizona Territory. How he knew about men's fashion was a mystery, but since the memory of suiting up was vague, he went with what he intuited. Mr. Dobson threw in a cheap set of saddle bags to keep the items in. While he was there, Joshua bought some traveling supplies and grooming supplies.
Later, at the gunsmith, he picked up a Colt Peacemaker and ammunition at a good price. The weapon felt familiar in his hand, and he could manipulate it well, even doing some tricky turns and spins. The holster didn't cost much, but it was strange to know exactly what he was looking for without thinking about it. It was if he had worn a weapon on his thigh many times. It was puzzling, because a farmer or a carpenter, or another peaceful worker would not need a weapon like this. A hunting rifle yes, a shotgun, maybe, but not a .45 revolver. Nonetheless, he put it on and got on his horse—which he named "Horse," because if he didn't have a name, why should his horse?—and made his way slowly through the town and back to the Bucknells'. They had finished breakfast and were all at their various pursuits, except for Hope. She came out of the parlor as he was closing the front door.
"Oh, Joshua! We were so worried when you didn't come to breakfast. You said you'd be out late, but we had no idea you'd stay in town."
"Good morning, Miss Hope. I didn't stay in town. I was here. I tried not to wake anyone. Had some business in town to take care of this morning." He patted the saddle bags he wore over his shoulder.
"Those are new, aren't they? Does this have anything to do with your new job?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She teased. "Did you become a bank robber?"
Joshua chuckled, picking up her playful mood. "No. A train robber."
"Oh, how exciting! You must tell me all about it. Were the passengers docile or did you have to shoot your way out?"
"No problems I couldn't handle, Miss." He was tired, and though it was fun to play games with Hope, he wanted to lie down in his room and contemplate his next steps.
"I'm so glad to hear that. Bad enough to be a train robber. You wouldn't want to add murderer onto the list of your crimes."
It was a sobering statement, and apparently Hope could see his expression change because she said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Joshua. I forgot about your situation. Please forgive me?"
"Nothing to forgive."
"You know, none of us is concerned that you're a scoundrel. You seem perfectly upright to us."
"Thank you." There was a pause. "I need to put these bags down. Will you excuse me?"
"Of course. I hope we'll see you at luncheon?"
"I expect so."
She clapped her hands once. "Excellent."
With that, he turned and walked to his room, where he entered and closed the door behind him.
* * *
Verity was worried about Joshua. He appeared to be avoiding her, and had drawn into himself. Each afternoon, he dressed in a fine suit of clothes and rode his new horse out to town. He often skipped breakfast, but usually joined them for luncheon. During those times, he kept his night pastime to himself and kept the conversation light and focused on someone else. When she'd had enough of his dodging her, she decided to confront the lion in his lair. She waited until after midnight, when the house was quiet and all were asleep, then snuck down to Joshua's room and entered silently. He was not there, of course. She'd noted the front door opening and closing at around three o'clock in the morning each night. She knew it was him, so she also knew that coming to his room just after midnight would find him away.
Dressed in her nightgown, she sat at the bedside with the light turned down low, and waited. The wait seemed interminable, but now that she was ensconced in his room, she didn't want to risk making noise by going to get her spectacles and something to read. So she waited. Eventually, half-asleep, she crawled into his bed for just a quick cat nap, but fell into a deep sleep.
"Verity?"
It was Joshua's voice. She opened her eyes and focused on the sound. The light was dim, but it was him. She sat up and threw off the quilt.
"Joshua!" she said, keeping her voice low so she wouldn't awaken the family. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table: three-thirty. "We need to talk."
He shed his coat and Verity saw the gun on his hip and gasped. Pointing, she asked, "What is that?"
Hanging his coat on a peg, he replied calmly. "It's a gun, Verity. You can see that."
"Yes, but why are you wearing it? What have you been doing?"
He faced her and began untying his tie. "I hate this damn thing."
"Joshua. Joshua, tell me what's going on."
He yanked the tie off and hung it over his coat, then came and sat beside her on the bed. "I'm getting some money together. I can't stay in Virtue."
"Oh, no! Why not? Oh, God. Is this why you've been so secretive? You're leaving me?" Tears began to well up in her eyes and she wiped them away roughly.
&n
bsp; His voice was soft when he said, "Not you, Verity, Virtue. Sheriff Gritch is on my tail and, since I don't know what he'll find, I think it's best if I leave. I don't want to drag you or the Bucknells down into the mud with me."
She grabbed his arm. Her heart was ripping in two. "You can't. You can't! I thought we were going to be together. We made love together. At least that's how I felt about it. Were you just using me?"
He looked genuinely surprised. "Is that what you think of me?"
His eyes, those clear, blue eyes, were boring into her. She didn't know what to say. Was she still suspicious of him? Did she fear he was some sort of criminal? And how could she explain his recent behavior if he was as true and honest as he'd appeared only a week before? "No. But you can't up and leave like this."
"I'll come back for you."
Bitterness stole over her. He was leaving her. She had no say in the matter and no recourse. She'd be alone again even while being among people who loved her. She'd never get married, never know the long-term joy of having a partner you could care for and trust and who would care for and trust you. Never have children.
"Sure," she said, anger making her snap the comment. "Then what?"
"I'll remember who I am eventually, Verity, and when I do, I'll be back."
So she was to pine, and wait, and wait some more. How long was she meant to wait? "That could take years, or it might never happen. You're leaving me for good. Just be honest."
"What would you like me to do? Right now, I'm walking on thin ice. Gritch asked me to leave several days ago, but I couldn't. I needed to get a stake together, so I've been gambling at night, or working as a bouncer at the Horn Inn."
"You've been working in a saloon?"
"Yes. I know it's not the most reputable place in Virtue, but it pays well, and the gamblers there are often silver miners with deep pockets. I'm lucky with cards. I win. And on the nights when cards don't meet my fancy, Eli Walters is eager to have me as a bouncer. That's why some days you see me with bruised knuckles. Things can get rough in there."
It explained his late nights and roughened appearance. But it also worried her that he could be a brawler and gambler. What did that say about his previous life?
"I wondered about your hands, but luncheon didn't seem the time to ask. My sisters and I have concocted all manner of reasons for the bruises and contusions, but we never see you in a place where we might politely inquire. You are hardly ever here!" She took his hand and held it to her face, tears trickling down over his fingers. "I miss you, Joshua. Don't you know that I love you?"
He wiped her tears off her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed her gently. "I care about you, too, Verity. I care deeply. But we must face facts. If the sheriff wants to make a stink—and I think it's safe to say he does—he'll find a way. He wants me out of Virtue, and I think, away from you. He has his cap set for you and doesn't like me living here, seeing you and your sisters every day." He shrugged and smoothed her loose hair away from her face. "And, frankly, I don't blame him. I'm an unknown. I could be anything, anyone, from anyplace. Until we know the facts, I'm a walking enigma, and a lawman won't tolerate me."
"Stay here, Joshua. We'll try harder to find out who you are. There must be something we should do, something we're not doing. I can read journals and books on the topic of amnesia. My father could talk to Artemis Gritch and try to smooth the waters." She touched his face and gazed deeply into his eyes. "Give us a chance."
He sighed and looked away from her, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze before settling their fingers in his lap. His thigh was warm, the quality fabric of his suit pants stiff and smooth under her fingers. "I'll talk to your father. Hint at my interest in you. Ask him to talk to Gritch."
"And you must get out of that saloon. It's nothing but trouble."
He stood and removed his blue and silver brocade vest. "I make good money there. It seems like a natural place for me. I'm comfortable among those people and in that atmosphere, though I don't know why. But I know how to gamble, and I know how to spot a cheat. I know how to defend myself, and I get angry when I see a rowdy giving a painted lady a hard time. I feel protective of that place and that business. I can't say it plainer than that."
"We must take that as a hint and clue about who you are."
He snorted as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Doesn't say much for me, does it?"
"Well, you're probably not a lawyer or a blacksmith."
"I'm not smart enough to be a lawyer, and I'm not bulky enough to be a blacksmith. Maybe I was a barkeeper."
She considered that. It was a possibility. But the duties of a barkeeper included a lot of supervision of the prostitutes who worked there. That stuck in her craw. And what kind of life could he offer a wife and children while working in that profession? It sounded seedy at best, dangerous at worst. By asking him to stay and find himself, there were an awful lot of ways they could find they didn't suit. But she loved him. She loved everything about him except his memory loss. In many ways, she hoped he'd never get it back, that he'd stay in Virtue and start a new life. A new life with her in it. It was selfish, but she couldn't help the thought as it wound snake-like through her mind each day.
"Maybe if you take a different job, Artemis would back down. If you blend in with the miners and laborers, the merchants and the farmers, maybe he'll see that you're just like everyone else." She stood and put her hand on his arm, causing him to pause in his movements while he tried to take off his shirt. "Please try."
"It would be safer for me to leave. Everyone in town knows my situation, and they'd understand. There would be no taint on your family if we part ways."
She couldn't bear the thought. Her heart would die. "Then take me with you."
"I care for you, Verity. I could never put you in that situation. How would you feel if I find I have a wife and a passel of kids somewhere, or if I'm a criminal on the run, or a gunslinger, or simply a saddle bum? What kind of life would that be for you?"
It would be miserable, but they'd be together. They could find a place and start a new life. Those were worst-case scenarios. She wasn't sure how she'd handle any of them, especially the possibility that he already had a family somewhere. She couldn't ask him to leave them behind and run away with her. But wasn't she already doing that by imploring him to remain in Virtue? By hoping he'd start another life here? It was too confusing and troubling. She decided to focus on the here and now, what she saw in front of her face at that moment, and not the what-ifs or could-bes. She broke down into sobbing, wrenching tears. "Don't leave me, Joshua," she whispered brokenly. "Please don't leave me."
Reaching out, he pulled her into his body and held her tight. "Shh, shh. I'll talk to your father. I'll find a new job. When and if I remember my past, we'll deal with it then."
Crying hard, she held him with all her might. She'd have liked to be a mouse in his pocket, close to his heart forever, going where he went, seeing what he saw, just being with him night and day. His words gave her hope. Maybe things would right themselves.
"Thank you," she murmured, kissing him on the bare chest she saw between his shirt plackets.
"You might not thank me later, sweetheart. We'll see." He pulled away from her a bit and took her by her upper arms. "No one saw you enter here, right?"
She shook her head.
"Then stay for a few hours. Let me try to make the hurt go away, at least tonight. Let me make love to you, Verity."
Sniffling, she gave him a watery smile. "I'd like that."
"You deserve something special, I think. Pull off your nightgown and crawl back in bed. I have something in mind."
Her spirits slowly rising, she discarded her gown and got between the quilt and the sheet. It took him no more than two minutes to divest himself of his clothing, and all the while she watched him, her excitement growing with each revelation of hard flesh. When he was naked, even in the dim lamplight, he took her breath away. The pinwheel of her ardor began to spin low in her belly.
Approaching the bed, he threw off the quilt and took her by the ankles, spreading her legs out wide. Verity felt her face go hot, followed by her entire body. No one had ever looked at her in the hungry way he was looking at her now. No one had seen those most private hollows and curves. He crawled up her body from between her legs and kissed her lips while resting on his forearms near her shoulders. Kissing him back was automatic. It was natural, sensual, and exciting. They traded tongues a bit and then he began kissing her chin, her throat, pausing to bite the join of her shoulder and neck. That little bite created a tidal wave of pleasure that tore through her body unexpectedly. She moaned and gripped his arms.
He said nothing, but continued kissing down her throat and chest, reaching her breasts. Allowing his weight to settle gently on her lower body, he fondled her breasts, adding tiny licks to her distended nipples, biting them enough to bring forth small cries of enjoyment from her. Saying nothing, he played with her nipples until she began to squirm. She could feel his hard cock up against her thighs. That was what she wanted. That was what she needed. Having him inside her again would make all the pain go away, and the uncertainty, all the worry. At least for a time. These stolen moments were all she had for now.
She pulled his hair, trying to signal him to rise up and take her, take her deep. But he was having none of it. Instead, he kept traveling lower down her belly, pausing at her belly button to tickle. A giggle of surprise was her response, but he kept moving. Down between her legs, he pressed her knees apart more fully. She felt exposed, embarrassed. She was afraid. What would he think of her, the least beautiful parts of her?
He spread her lower lips and hummed as though there was something special on his plate. And, apparently there was because he licked her. There. Where nothing but a washcloth and certainly no person had been before. She nearly shot out of the bed, crying out.
"Joshua! You can't. This isn't right. I'm embarrassed."
"You look and taste wonderful, love. These are parts you should share with a lover. They're not just for fucking."
The Doctor's Daughter: A Virtue, Arizona Novel Page 10