The judge gestured with his gavel and the doctor sat down again.
"Sheriff Gritch? What's your story?"
"I think it happened like this, Your Honor. Joshua Smith was with his gang, who robbed the freight company and killed the driver and outrider. Dave Blanton told me he recognized Smith as one of the men who committed the crime. Smith then got into an argument with his men, and the men took it badly. They beat Smith, stole his goods, and hightailed it into the desert with the wagon and guns. Smith was brought to Virtue, where he recovered. He claims he lost his memory, but I think he was waiting for a likely moment when he could go get his ill-gotten stolen goods. I arrested him before he could make his getaway."
There was a pause as the observers made a commotion. The judge pounded his gavel and called for quiet.
"Continue, Sheriff."
"He broke out of the jail thanks to Verity Bucknell, and ran off to find his men. When he caught up with them, he shot two and kidnapped the two others. I think he was taking them to the canyon to finish the job and make off with what was left of the guns. They'd fetch a good price on the black market. That's it."
"Complete conjecture, Your Honor," Willard said. "He can't prove any of that."
"I don't take kindly to criminals in my district," Judge Kincaid told everyone in the courtroom. "My duty is to see to law and order, and punishing criminals. Will the Marshals' Service identify Mr. Smith as their man?"
"As the telegram said, sir, they're sending a man to do so," Willard told him.
"I want this to be a speedy trial, Judge," Gritch demanded. "This man should hang for his crimes, not lollygag around in a comfy jail cell, laughing at all of us for foolishly letting him live among us for more than a month."
The judge frowned. "I tend to agree. I think a trial is fair and just." He pounded his gavel once. "So be it. The trial commences tomorrow. I have other matters to attend to in Prescott and don't have time to waste here."
There was more commotion in the courtroom.
An emotional cloud of doom settled over Joshua. The judge was clearly on Gritch's side, or at least Gritch had come up with a scenario that appealed to Kincaid.
"I'm sorry, my boy—" Willard began.
"Wait!" A woman, frazzled, her brown calico dress travel-wrinkled and her bonnet askew, came running into the courtroom. The judge turned around as he was getting ready to exit. "I'm Zenobia Palmer Drendel! That man is my brother." She pointed to Joshua.
"Zenny," he called to her. His baby sister was there, and just in time. Maybe things would turn out all right after all.
"Josh," she called back. "I'm here."
"This is highly irregular, young lady," the judge said, turning back to the exit.
"Please wait!" she cried, placing a hand on her belly. It was distended and round. She was obviously pregnant. "I came all this way. You have to listen to me."
Sighing, the judge sat down again. "What is it?" He sounded extremely grumpy, and Joshua thought it didn't bode well.
"That's my brother, Joshua Palmer. I brought a picture of him to prove it."
"Jones, get the picture," Judge Kincaid ordered.
Deputy Jones took the picture from Zenobia and brought it to the judge's bench. The magistrate looked at the photo for a good, long time, comparing Joshua to the picture. He turned the photo over and read the inscription on the back. "This does appear to be you, Mr. Smith—I mean, Mr. Palmer. And the picture shows you wearing a badge."
"It was taken the day my brother was sworn in," Zenobia said. "He was so proud. We all were."
Joshua remembered very well. His mother, brother, sister and their families had all been there in Phoenix when he'd become a marshal. His father had died the year before, killed during a robbery of the bank where he worked. It had been the impetus which drove Joshua to become a marshal in the first place.
"Hm. Well, this does change things, Sheriff Gritch." He stared at Zenobia for a few moments. "There is a family resemblance. Are you prepared to swear your statements are truthful, Mrs. Drendel?"
"Absolutely!"
The judge pounded his gavel again. "Case dismissed." The observers cheered, the Bucknells loudest of all.
"But—" Gritch sputtered.
"No argument, Artemis," the judge told him. "When the prosecutor shows up, I'll hear the case against the other men. Not one day before."
"Yes, Your Honor." Gritch ground out. He turned and glared at Joshua and his attorney. But Joshua barely noticed. He was too busy hugging his sister, and shaking Willard's and Dr. Bucknell's hands.
"Are you ready to go home?" Charity asked him.
"Home. I like the sound of that," he responded, then turned to his sister. "Zenny you should be sitting down. How did you get here? Where is Albert?"
"He's in Tucson. I came running as soon as I got a letter from Miss Bucknell. I didn't want to wait for Albert to get home. I left Cora and Mikey with my neighbor and jumped in the wagon."
"Come back to our house, Mrs. Drendel," suggested Faith. "We have enough room for you."
"Thank you. I'd be pleased to do that."
Joshua was pleased about it too. He very much wanted Zenny to meet the family he had adopted, or who had adopted him. But mostly, he wanted to find some quiet time with Verity. He knew she was stuck at home, wondering, waiting, worrying. After this dismissal, she would be radiant with happiness. To him, there was no brighter star.
Chapter Eighteen
Dressed in her frilliest nightgown, Verity snuck down the staircase, carefully avoiding stepping in the center of the eighth stair tread. It squeaked and always had. It wouldn't do to wake up the family. They'd gone to bed tired, owing to all the excitement of Verity getting off with a light sentence and Joshua's case being dismissed. They were delighted that they now had a name to put to his face.
Being surrounded by her family during Joshua's triumphant homecoming had been wonderful, but she desperately wanted to be alone with him. They hadn't had a moment to share a kiss; in fact, they hadn't had anything more than a fond embrace since he'd gotten home. Verity was determined to meet him in his room and make mad passionate love with him, if he'd have her tonight. It had been very disappointing to have to eschew that kind of intimacy while they were on the trail together, and control like that was difficult for her, but they did it. Only on the promise of more when they got home, though!
The gas lights were still on in the downstairs hallway, and as she got down to the bottom step, she realized why. Her father was up. Up and watching her descend. Oh, dear.
"Something amiss?" he asked.
Her plan would not be thwarted so easily. "I'm just having trouble sleeping," she told him. "All the excitement. I thought I'd have a glass of milk. You don't need to wait up for me."
"I see." He looked between her and the door to Joshua's room and back again. He knew very well why she was there, so Verity figured her chance to rendezvous with Joshua was lost. "Let's have a chat."
"Yes, Papa?"
"Sit down."
She sat on the stair and he joined her there. "I'm going to get right to the point," he told her. "I like Joshua."
"Me, too."
"I know. You do more than like him, you love him."
"Yes, Papa, I do."
"And he loves you as well." It wasn't a question but a statement.
"Yes, Papa, he does."
"But," he went on, "you are still my daughter and living under my roof. I can't allow any hanky-panky to go on between you."
"Oh, but there's not—"
He gave her a sharp look.
"Much," she said.
"Hm. Yes. Some is enough, daughter. Some is enough to see you in a family way, and that won't do before marriage. You do intend to marry, don't you?"
"Well, I do. I presume Joshua does, too."
"How do you suppose that will affect his career?"
How would it? It hadn't occurred to her, but he'd have to travel around as a marshal. He wouldn't be able to be at
home very much. How would she feel about a mostly absentee husband? She answered her father honestly. "I don't know."
"You need to consider it. The two of you need to work it out."
"Yes, sir." It depressed her to think about it. What if he didn't want to settle down?
There was a pause. "You know, when I married your mother, I was just out of medical school."
"I know."
"Did you ever think about how difficult it was for us to be separated while I was in the east finishing my education? We weren't married yet, but I had courted her for years. Everyone assumed we would marry."
"Oh?"
"Yes. And we wanted to as well. We considered it before I left Virtue. Realistically, however, those years away from each other could have stunted the growth of our relationship. It could have killed it, in fact. It almost did when someone else tried to court her in my absence."
"No! What did you do?"
"There was little I could do but send her letters and the occasional telegram. But write her I did. Often and at length. We worked it out. That's what you and Joshua need to do. It may be necessary that you spend time away from each other, but it doesn't have to kill your affection for one another."
That painted a brighter picture. "You're right."
"Work it out, but not in bed," he said, his cheeks going rosy. "I mean it."
"I'm sorry, Papa. I meant no disrespect."
He patted her hand. "I know. You were emoting, not thinking."
"Yes, I suppose I was." The fact remained, miraculously, she'd not gotten pregnant despite her intimate time with Joshua. She was lucky. It probably wasn't too smart to keep trying that luck.
"Go to bed. Tomorrow's another day."
Sighing, she stood. "Yes, sir." One more look at Joshua's door, then she started back up the stairs.
* * *
The next day, she got a chance to speak to her beau while they cleaned up the kitchen. Mrs. Perkins was doing the laundry, and on laundry days, the cleaning of the kitchen fell to the family. This time, Verity took her turn, and after they shared a nod, Joshua volunteered to help her.
It started with a question as she scrubbed dishes. "Do you love me?" she asked.
"Yes, of course. I love you dearly." He dried the dish he was holding and placed it in the cupboard.
"What shall we do?"
"Do?"
She said nothing. If there was to be a proposal, she wanted it to come from him. She still had small doubts that he would want to settle down with her and change his career somehow.
"Well," he said. "I owe you a spanking, for starters."
Definitely not what she hoped to hear. "Funny, Joshua. That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant. Spanking first."
"Really? But I don't want a spanking. In fact, I hate being spanked."
"You don't get a little thrill out of knowing that I'm looking at your bum and imagining all the things I can do with you? That I'm enjoying how your skin gets pink when I give you a sharp smack? Did you realize," he said on a whisper, "that I can see the curls between your thighs when you're over my knees?"
Well, put that way, it didn't sound all that bad. Nevertheless, she blushed. "Joshua, you're embarrassing me."
He chuckled. "I know. You're pretty when you blush. No matter which end is pink."
She hit him with the dish rag.
"I'll take retribution for that slight, Miss Bucknell."
He took the dish rag out of her hands and tossed it in the wet sink, then he took her by the wrist and led her to a straight-backed kitchen chair. He sat down and patted his knees.
"But, someone will come in! I promised Papa no hanky-panky."
"I believe he would make an exception for this. He was as upset by your gallivanting around the desert as I was. I don't want you to do such a foolish thing ever again."
She covered her bottom with both hands and stayed on her feet. "I won't do that again." He arched a dark eyebrow at her. "Probably. Why would I need to?"
"Knowing you, you'll find an excuse. Now, over my knees. Take your medicine."
"You're determined, aren't you." It was not a question. She knew very well that he would get his way.
He nodded, patting his lap again. "Verity, behave."
"Will you kiss me afterward?"
"Where?" he teased.
Once again, she felt her cheeks go hot. "Oh, Joshua, you are a trial."
"No more than you, my dear. Yes, I'll kiss you afterward, if you mind me right now."
A kiss would be nice. It had been far too long. And, if he really did get excited by seeing her en dishabille, it would be worth it. She loved the idea that she had some power over him, however small. But she signaled her protest even as she lay across his lap.
He hiked her skirt up to her waist and slid her drawers open. She felt him tickling her ever so slightly.
"Pretty little red curls. How tempting you are, love."
"Oh, dear," she said, totally embarrassed but titillated as well.
He chuckled, but, seconds later, he applied his hand to her bottom with a loud crack.
"Oh!"
"Try not to yell, please," he said.
Of course, she wouldn't yell. And have the entire family come running and see her in this condition? Not in a million years. He spanked her several more times, and she squeaked with the growing pain, but did not call out. More spanks landed, each one more painful than the last. He paused and the burn flared.
Once again, he tickled her. It made her squirm, despite her flaming behind. "You know what I'd like to do?" He didn't wait for her acknowledgement, but went on, lowering his voice to a husky whisper. "I'd like to fill you with my cock. Fill you right up. Right past these lovely red curls."
Her middle quaked and she groaned. How could he say such inflammatory things to her during a spanking? Didn't he realize they'd excite her in an entirely different manner?
Once again, his hand came down. This time in a long series of spanks.
Verity didn't know whether to cry or moan. The spanking had become a source of erotic pleasure when coupled with the sexy things he said.
He stopped and ran his fingers along the seam of her sex. "You're getting wet, my dear. I can see the tears of your excitement clearly now. Are you enjoying this spanking?"
Should she admit that she was? Perhaps avoiding the subject was the better course of action. "I don't know."
He continued to touch her intimately, just caressing her outer lips, nothing more. "Are you sure you don't know?"
All she could do was moan. Then he spanked her again and she mewled. It felt so good and bad at the same time. It confused her and left her wanting more. "Oh! Ow!"
More spanks and her bottom was on fire. Combined with the urgency of her pussy, the burn was nothing but exciting.
Abruptly, he stopped spanking. Once more he touched her sex, this time a little deeper, but not penetrating her.
"I think I'll taste you," he said in that low, seductive voice. "Mmm. I remember that flavor. Pure Verity."
"Oh, God," she groaned.
He gave her one more great crack on the bottom and then dropped her skirts. "All done."
What? But she was so excited! "Done? You can't be done. Joshua!"
"I think we should wait for marriage, as your father suggested. Will you marry me?"
He proposed to her while she was over his lap? What kind of proposal was that? She was desperate to have him. How could she possibly say no? And what would he do next if she said yes?
"Yes. Now finish what you started, you horrible man."
"We'll finish when it's appropriate. As man and wife." He helped her into a sitting position on his lap.
"But Joshua…"
"No. I respect your father. No hanky-panky, he said. I think we managed not to cross that line."
They had avoided breaking the promise, at least theoretically, but that didn't change how she felt. Left up to her, they'd have gone a lot further. Bu
t then she'd have regretted it—once she calmed down enough. She, too, respected her father and didn't want to break her word.
"Fine," she said on a pout. "But I want that kiss."
"A kiss you shall have." Without another word he touched her face, turning her head gently so he could take her lips. It was a sweet kiss, at first. A gentle, tender touch. It gradually became more demanding, as he coaxed her tongue forward and tangled with it. It was a long kiss, too. It took her breath away, even though his hands never strayed from her face, his warm fingers holding her steady as he took her mouth and conquered her.
When they broke, she was hot and excited. And engaged. She was engaged!
"Are we really to be married?" she asked, a feeling of wonder settling over her.
"Yes, we really are. I love you and want no one else to be my wife. I'm thirty years old," he said, "and I've never said those words to another."
She hugged him and gave him a little peck on the lips. "I have to tell my sisters."
He helped her stand as he chuckled. "Go. I hope they're as happy about it as I am."
"Oh, how I love you, Joshua. I love you, love you, love you."
He laughed again, but she was hurrying out of the kitchen to find the family.
Chapter Nineteen
Charity embroidered a perpetual calendar for Verity, and Verity used it to keep track of each month she had on her house-arrest. By the time April rolled around, she had cabin fever like crazy and was counting hours as well as days. Planning her wedding was the only thing that saved her. She wrote all her invitations by hand, and Pastor Denton made a special trip to the Bucknells' in order to see to the church-related details. Even Melanie Emory from the Ladies’ Emporium came out to fit Verity for her wedding dress. The white confection with lots of seed pearls and lace was exactly what Verity had pictured since childhood. Its long train and veil would be so elegant. Charity and Faith had taken charge of the flowers; they were perfuming the house.
Joshua was good-natured about the plans, agreeing to most everything she wanted. As he put it, "It's your day, sweetheart, make it memorable." Although it left most of the details up to her, she relished the challenge.
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