Lawless Love (Lawmen and Outlaws)

by Downing, Andrea

  “No.” He felt like telling her, ‘not between decent folks,’ but he suspected there were men who just couldn’t help themselves, who agreed to this. But not those who forced themselves on others; that, for sure, wasn’t what he would call normal.

  Lacey swatted away some tears. “Luke was beggin’. He was cryin’ and beggin’ that he be left alone but Morgan was…was pullin’ off Luke’s belt and pushing down his pants as I rode in. I sat there, sat there on my horse just…stupefied I guess. Uncomprehending at what I was seeing. I remember I said, ‘Luke? Luke what the hell is going on?’ I slid down from my horse. Luke turned to me with such a look, Dylan—such a look. Ever’thing fell into place. Suddenly I understood ev’ry single thing that had been goin’ on. And I drew my gun and shot that bastard sonovabitch right between the eyes.”

  Part Three

  “You told him?” Luke paced the length of the parlor, stopping in front of his sister before going to the other end and staring down at Dylan. “You gonna tell the whole town, make me out to be some…some…” His face colored as he turned to Lacey.

  Dylan was hunched over, his hands hanging by his sides as he stared at the floor. “No one’s gonna know until this gets to court.” He spoke quietly.

  “Court?” Lacey froze where she stood.

  “She’ll swing!” Luke’s voice raised a pitch, his eyes wide with terror. He turned on his heel back to Dylan.

  “Now calm down. Just calm down the two of you.” The marshal stood at last. Out the window, the front gate crashed and slammed on its hinges as tumbleweed bowled by. “It’s gotta go to court. Lacey’s admitted to a crime. I mean, for what she’s done, for what Morgan tried to do…which was against the law…”

  “She’ll swing! You know she’ll swing!”

  “I know no such thing.” Dylan turned back to face the siblings, finally finding a modicum of control. But his own gut was heaving, and there was numbness throughout his body he’d never known. This case was something he had never encountered—this was a situation where the truth could bring the wrong result. “Morgan was obviously a sodomite; that’s against the law. And he was corrupting a minor which the Court won’t take lightly.”

  “If they believe us. It’s Luke’s word and mine,” Lacey said quietly. “And if they’re like you, they’ll just naturally think I wanted him dead because I owed him money.”

  “I didn’t think that, Lacey. I never said that.”

  “Yeah, I believe you did,” she went on in the same pensive tone, “and you sure as heck thought it. And if you thought it, they’ll think it.”

  Dylan pondered this a moment, his hand scraping the stubble of his face. “No. How could a woman and a young man think up something like this? It just couldn’t be. Furthermore, look at him; he’s scared stiff of it coming to light. It’s not the first thing you’d say as an excuse, now is it? Why, you didn’t even know what you saw.”

  “No, I didn’t. But fact is, they’ll still think it. They’ll still think it was owing him money or some such. And even if they don’t, even if someone were to come forward and say, yeah, that old bastard did this, that or the other to someone else, it still don’t mean they’re not gonna find me guilty. Oh, I may get sent off to prison ’stead of bein’ hung, but if it came right down to it, quite honestly, I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life holed up like that.”

  Dylan stood, his eyes wandering over the whole of Lacey, from her neat little feet to her sun-colored hair, and he tried to remember if a woman had ever been hanged in Wyoming. And then he tried to imagine such a creature being kept in a dank, dark prison. “I gotta think on this,” he finally said. “I gotta do some thinking.”

  Lacey nodded to Luke to follow her out and leave Dylan alone. In the warmth of the kitchen, Luke settled at the table and let his head rest in his hands. “I shoulda told you,” he whispered. “I shoulda told you straight off he was making suggestions, touching me wrong, but I just couldn’t do it, Lace.”

  “I know. Don’t you fret none ’bout it now.”

  “If I’da told you, none of this woulda happened.”

  “Luke. There’s just no point on riling yourself like this. I reckon you were too embarrassed to say anything.” Damp eyes greeted her words.

  “I shoulda been more of a man, shoulda shot that bastard myself. It’s just…I was so stunned first time he tried something. I jus’…just didn’t know what the heck he wanted. And then as time went on, and with the horse and all, he started to make his intentions clear. I was goin’ to tell you. Really. But I thought I’d handle it. Get Bossy to keep. But then…he said some disgusting things to me.”

  “That’s enough now, Luke. It’s over and done, and it won’t be undone. We’ll just have to trust the marshal now.”

  And then she heard the front door open and shut.

  ****

  A couple of lights flickered within the house as Dylan rode back in, the inky blackness of night relieved by a low, full moon. Shadows moved through the orange glow and disappeared as he swung his legs off Daisy to lead the horse into the barn. Well, the Everharts hadn’t run off by the look of it. He had long missed supper, and Lacey would not take kindly to being asked to warm something, not that he had any appetite. He could smell the whiskey on his breath, and Lacey wouldn’t take kindly to that either.

  Feeling somewhat dazed—or was it drunk?—and tired, Dylan pulled the saddle from the mare and got a bucket of feed before currying her. Drinking had not answered any questions. His mind still felt like unspun cotton, fibers with seeds that needed to be picked off. Fact was, it was even more tangled now. How could he live with himself if he sent Lacey Everhart to the gallows? And how could he live with himself, knowing what he knew? All his life he had known right from wrong, seen the law clearly as black and white. But this…this was something totally beyond anything he had ever experienced. And the matter wasn’t just colored by his admiration of Lacey either.

  The barn door yawned open, and Lacey stood there, moonlight giving her a silver aura. She’d gotten ready for sleep, her long hair loosely bound in a single braid and a robe wrapped tightly about her. Dylan felt a flutter in his gut as a yearning overcame him, making him numb. He somehow managed to shut the stall door behind him and come out to face her.

  “We waited on supper some,” Lacey started in a small voice. “But I’d burnt it anyways so…”

  Dylan never let her finish. In two strides he had her in his arms, his mouth capturing hers as he held her to him. Lacey gasped as she allowed herself to be taken before melting into him, responding to his tongue’s search for her answer. She tried to think, to ask herself if this was what she wanted, but it was too late for any sense to rule. Her hands pulled his shirt out of his denims and ripped open the snaps, shoving it back from his arms to expose those muscles she had glimpsed at the river.

  Dylan shrugged off the shirt before grabbing his bedroll and throwing it down on clean straw. He fingered loose the plaits of her braid and inhaled sharply as her hair hung down about her shoulders.

  “Listen, listen,” he said breathlessly. “I don’t know…I don’t know…”

  Lacey hushed him with her mouth, the taste of whiskey sweet on her tongue. His hands found the tie for her robe and thrust it back before he yanked it off and cast it aside. He pulled her down on top of him, lying back as he struggled to kick off his boots.

  Lacey burst out laughing.

  She sat back on her haunches and looked down at him, the startled and puzzled expression on his face endearing him to her as she sat there grinning. Dylan’s face went from mystified to amused as he sat up and pulled at some straw.

  “It’s not easy, is it?” Lacey tried to soothe him knowing laughing might hurt his pride.

  “I haven’t thought…I can’t think…”

  “No. I didn’t mean that. I meant undressing, Dylan. If I’m gonna die I really ought to do this at least once, don’t you think?”

  A pained expression creased his brow as
he let out a ragged breath. “It’s taking advantage.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She bent to pull off first one of his boots followed by the other, before crawling up to him to unbuckle his belt and yanking it from his pants. He reached for her shoulders and pulled her to his waiting mouth. His hands moved down the outline of her body, finding her curves as she finally shoved his trousers and drawers down so he could kick them off.

  “Hell and damnation.” Dylan lifted the nightdress making her feel suddenly exposed until he said, “You are so dang beautiful.” He gently pushed her back down to run his fingers over the map of her body before lowering his head to plant kisses down the length of her neck to her breasts.

  A sigh escaped Lacey as she ran her own hands through his hair, but his head moved lower now. Heat moved from her groin through her whole body with a yearning such as she’d never known. She felt fluid, as if the borders of her figure had melted away. As Dylan reached the core of her being, everything seemed to dispel and only the yearning remained.

  Dylan carefully moved back to find her mouth once more, their skin becoming a single shield against the night. Her hands moved tentatively down the points of his spine before pulling him in closer as his arousal nested against her stomach. But the heat within him was overpowering as Lacey’s body asked for its release. Dylan pulled back from her before moving in once more to make his final claim.

  As he broke through her last barrier and heard her gasp, he stopped and waited to reassure her with his kiss. Then his body moved to Lacey’s rhythm as the kiss went deeper, and his body sought her depths. With every movement he claimed more of her; like an uncharted territory she would be his. And then, finally, he knew she had relinquished herself to him completely, lost herself in the ultimate shared ecstasy of a single moment.

  “Hell and damnation,” Dylan whispered as he caught his breath. “Holy shit.”

  ****

  “You have straw in your hair.” Luke’s sleepy, morning gaze focused on his sister as she stood filling the coffee pot. “And you’re not dressed. What…Oh, Lacey. That’s pretty clever. Did you seduce the marshal?”

  “Luke Everhart!” The coffee pot slammed down on the range. “I most certainly did no such thing. Why, how could you even think…?”

  The front door slammed. Lacey watched as Dylan stood there a moment before striding down the hall to the kitchen, a big smile on his face and straw in his hair, too. Luke looked from one to the other.

  The young man turned back to his sister. “‘Even think’? Tell me what I think happened didn’t really happen.”

  Dylan’s smile broadened. “Your sister and I are getting married!”

  “What?”

  “We are?” Lacey fidgeted with some mugs. “You don’t know me. Well, not really. I mean, we’ve just met and all.”

  “Well, I’m a man who knows his mind. Usually. And my mind is made up on this. We’re getting married.”

  “Dylan, I don’t…” Lacey pulled her robe tighter about her.

  “Lacey, let’s not beat about the bush here, sweetheart. I think things have gone a bit further than ‘hardly know me.’ ’Sides which…” Dylan paused, a look of smugness turning up the corners of his mouth before he went on with his pronouncement. “A husband cannot testify against his wife.”

  Luke gasped, looking from one to the other. Lacey’s mouth puckered as various thoughts flit across her brain, but she remained silent.

  “Heck, I thought you’d be more excited than that, Lacey. This is the answer to my problem, my being torn ’tween protecting you and telling the law. I marry you, I can’t tell the law. Simple as that.” His future bride wasn’t enthralled by Dylan’s relief at having solved his conundrum.

  “Simple as that, huh?” Lacey crossed her arms. The coffee pot seemed to bubble with approval, and she turned to fill the mugs. “Well, well. I read about that there law a while back when I was teaching Luke about the states’ history and all. There’s just one small problem with that, Dylan.”

  “There’s no problem. Get dressed. We’re finding a preacher, and that’s an end to the matter.”

  “An end to the matter, huh? You just gonna leave it that you can’t testify against me and so not turn me in?”

  Dylan leaned back against the wall, arms across his chest and legs crossed. “I guess that’s about the sum of it. No point really, is there? I mean, no one else knows ’cept the three of us here. I can’t testify against you so I can’t tell no one. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  Luke’s head continued to swivel from one to the other.

  “Oh, yeah. It makes sense.” Sure makes sense to me.

  “Come on then. Get on a nice dress and…”

  “Where we gonna live? You think of that? I’m not giving up this house after all I’ve gone through to get it!”

  Dylan sighed in exasperation. “All right. We’ll sort out the details. You won’t have to give up the house. I’ll move here.”

  “And as for being married to a lawman who might get hisself shot at any moment…”

  Here it was, the old ‘I ain’t marryin’ no lawman.’ Well, this time he had the upper hand—as well as the woman he’d been waiting for. Dylan stood straight and slammed his hand against the wall. “Hell and damnation, Lacey. I’m trying to save your life here. You going to cooperate or what?”

  Lacey took in a deep breath as she glanced across at her brother before turning back to Dylan. “You sure you want to do this, absolutely sure, for better or worse and all that.”

  “Better or worse.”

  ****

  “You can go on and kiss the bride now.” The preacher plastered a smile on his face as he closed the Bible, the beam matching the shine of his bald pate. He stood patiently waiting as Dylan took his time kissing his new bride, holding his grin in place as the kiss went on.

  “You two gonna stop any time soon?” Luke said at last. “We didn’t have much of a breakfast.”

  Dylan gently pulled away. “Well.” For a moment he found it hard to believe the angel he had seen washing in the river was now his bride, but he knew he’d never have any regrets. He bent to kiss Lacey lightly once more, then gave a smile to Luke. “I expect this calls for a celebration dinner over in that café I spotted. Will that do, Luke?”

  “Sure will.” Luke looked rather pleased with the outcome. “I don’t reckon I’ve ever eaten in that place. And Del says it’s mighty good.”

  “Well, let’s go.”

  Lacey looped her arm through Dylan’s and clasped his hand. Luke followed behind, almost a skip in his step. Lacey used her free hand to lift the skirt of her Sunday dress to cross the mud of the road, dodging horses coming through. Every so often Dylan would glance down at his new wife, a small smile turning up his lips as she returned the look with luminous eyes.

  “Dylan,” she said at last.

  “Yes, dear?” He took her elbow as they stepped up onto the boardwalk, and Lacey stopped.

  “You know when I said I’d read about that law which states a husband cannot testify against his wife?” She looked up at Dylan’s serious nod. “And you remember how I said there was only one small problem?”

  “I remember. So?”

  “Well, that there problem is this: that law is called something like spousal privilege or marital privilege—something like that.”

  “And?”

  “And, well, it doesn’t apply to things said prior to the marriage, Dylan. Those things are exempt from that privilege.”

  Dylan stopped dead as Luke moaned, “Why did you tell him that, Lace? Why?”

  “Luke, you go on and wait for us in the café. Dylan and I’ll be right in.”

  The couple watched as a bewildered Luke sloped off to the restaurant, then faced each other again. Dylan saw the life he had yearned for slipping away. That pretty little house on the outskirts of town which Lacey had already made into a lovely home, the children asking to be swung when he came in each evening, even young Luke looking u
p to him as the father the boy had never had, all that disappearing, evaporating into a black mist.

  “Why did you marry me, Lacey, if you knew that? I mean…You went on about only knowing me a few days and all. Why…why did you do that?”

  “Well.” Lacey plunked down on one of the benches outside the barbershop they were passing. Smells of soap wafted out mixing with the horse and mud smells of the town. “I guess I just plumb wanted to marry you. I mean, last night and all, it was something, wasn’t it? And I figured…well, I figured you’re a good man and, I have to say, I really have feelings for you, Dylan, and I figure you return them and all. So I’d take my chances. But you can see I couldn’t let you go on and believe what you did. I couldn’t really do that to you. That’s no way to start a marriage.”

  Dylan looked down at his wife and extended his hand to pull her back to her feet.

  “So, well, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Lacey. I really don’t know.” Right and wrong, black and white. Dylan J. Kane had finally encountered gray.

  They walked slowly along the boards to the café, Dylan mulling this over as he clutched Lacey’s hand as if she might run off. Through a window, Dylan spotted Luke at a table, his eyes innocently scanning the menu, a look of delight on his face that the boy had no doubt not had for ages. The marshal reached out for the door just as the sheriff exited and faced him.

  “Why, Marshal. Fancy seeing you here. And with Miss Everhart.”

  Lacey flinched slightly as Dylan said quietly, “Well, it’s Mrs. Kane now, Sheriff. We were just wed.”

  The sheriff didn’t bother to hide his look of surprise. His eyebrows shot up and might’ve hit his hairline if he’d had one. “Why, you sure do work mighty fast, Marshal Kane.” He hesitated. “Well, let me congratulate you both. I hope you’ll be happy.”

  Dylan stood feeling the soft little hand in his and looked down at his bride. Lacey played her part—which wasn’t playing—and returned his look with a smile and those emerald eyes that had first entranced him. Yes, that was it. He was entranced. Captivated. Spellbound by her. She certainly had worked magic on him.