Montana Sky_Legacy

by Lynn Winchester

  The man she couldn’t quite place stepped into the circle of lantern light, and the glint of a gun registered in her mind, but she didn’t care. She tried turning again—she had to see Tim, had to get free to save him, to touch him, to kiss him…just one last time. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his shoulder slumped against her.

  “Tim, you promised me we would be fine. You promised,” she cried.

  A cough shuddered against her. “I’m sorry, Joanna. I couldn’t save you…” He coughed again, a wretched gurgling noise—then a slow, heavy exhale. Then nothing.

  “Tim! God, no! Please, no!” She cried out, trying to flip over, trying to pull her hands free, but the binds held her fast, as the heat of Tim’s body slowly began to fade.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was dark, so dark he wondered if he was in hell—a place of torment and utter blackness. The sharp, agonizing pain in his lower back, and the dull yet burning pain in his shoulder certainly were torment. But…he moved his eyes, slowly lifting his eyelids, then swiftly closing them again. The darkness was slowly receding as the light of the room began to filter in.

  He slowly lifted his eyelids again, this time leaving a crack of opening to allow his eyes to adjust. At first, it was blurry; just unidentifiable shapes and dark figures in the room. He knew he was in the infirmary, he’d woken up to those particular scents before. But how did he get there?

  The pain in his back told him he’d probably been shot again, but by who? Why?

  Tim closed his eyes again, willing his memory to return. He knew there was something important, something urgent he had to remember. The desperation to get to…

  “Joanna!” he cried, throwing open his eyes and sitting up in the bed. Agony shot through his spine and collided with the nerves in his belly, pushing nausea up his throat. But he didn’t care. He had to get to Joanna. Shouts and then hurried pounding met his ears and he turned his blurry eyes toward the sound. He blinked as the door slammed open and someone rushed into the room.

  It was Joanna. He knew that sensation, the prickling of energy along his skin that told him she was there.

  “Joanna?” he croaked and she stopped by the bed, her strong yet trembling hand pressing him back into the bed.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to stay put? You have to stop ending up here.” Her voice was sweeter than an angel’s song, and he couldn’t hear enough of it. She was alive, she was safe, but—

  “What happened? The last thing I remember was laying on the ground beside you; Uncle Thomas was pointing his gun at you…”

  Joanna pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat. Her beautiful face perfectly on level with his, her glorious golden eyes filled with something he could only hope she truly felt. There was a bandage around her forehead, but it did nothing to take away from her loveliness.

  “Uncle Thomas tried to shoot me, but you threw yourself in front of me. He shot you in the back.”

  He shifted in the bed, and the memory of the bullet entering his body made him grimace. “I remember that,” he admitted. “But…how did we end up here? He was going to kill us both. What happened?”

  Joanna offered him a smile, then slid her hand down his shoulder, over his forearm, and grasped his hand in hers.

  “You saved my life,” she replied, her voice soft yet filled with awe.

  He swallowed, unable to take his eyes off hers. “But how? I’m sure my throwing myself in front of the bullet didn’t get us off that mountain.”

  She sighed and tightened her grip on his hand. He squeezed hers in response. Heavens, it felt good to have Joanna so close, to have her hand in his, to have her smile and her light.

  “That man, the one I didn’t recognize—”

  “The unnamed man who seemed to hang in the shadows?”

  Joanna nodded. “Turns out he was a marshal sent by John Richardson, the Governor of South Carolina, to find and apprehend Dalton Hess. Turns out he’s wanted there for bank robbery and attempted murder. I guess all my poking around in Shawnee stirred up more than I thought it had. Stuart Gregson, the marshal, was here in town, undercover, tracking Hess’s movements. He made sure to get hired on to whatever Hess was doing, and he was about to bring him down when we showed up in town and started poking into things here.”

  Tim groaned as the reality of their situation rolled over him. “You mean to say, if we’d just gone to the sheriff like I wanted, everything would have worked out exactly as you wanted?”

  A flush colored her cheeks a disarming pink and she ducked her head to hide her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted. “Sheriff Temogen and Gregson had already planned to catch Hess and Uncle Thomas that night. It was them who saved us. While Uncle Thomas and Hess were busy yammering at us—and shooting you—Gregson was able to signal to the men hiding just below the ridge. They stormed in just in time to keep Hess from shooting me.”

  Tim laid his head back on the pillow and took a deep, cleansing breath.

  It’s over. It’s all over. But…

  “What happened to Hess? What about Uncle Thomas?”

  “Hess was shot while trying to run. He didn’t make it.” Joanna’s voice was as cold as the depths of the mine. Hess deserved whatever horrors awaited him in hell.

  “And Uncle Thomas?”

  “He’s in jail facing charges of attempted murder, illegal mining, and aiding and abetting a known criminal. Not to mention he’s dead broke and doesn’t have the money to afford bail.” She giggled at that, and Tim couldn’t stop the rumble of laughter that spilled from his own chest. It hurt like the dickens, but he needed that moment of happiness with her.

  One more moment before she goes. His heart twisted against his lungs. Would she leave now that Hess was dead? Was she going back to Shawnee?

  A soft knock on the door preceded the appearance of Aunt Melda, her face set in a determined expression. “It’s good to see that you are awake and doing well. Dr. Rawlins says you should make a full recovery, given enough time and…rest,” she said the last word as she cast a quick glance at Joanna. Joanna’s flush deepened.

  “I guess that means no more midnight trips into town,” she teased, squeezing his hand.

  “I guess not,” he replied, winking. Joanna’s eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise, right before a lopsided smile graced her lovely, lush mouth. Goodness, what he wouldn’t give to be able to reach out, pull her to him, and kiss her until the sun stopped rising into the sky.

  “I certainly hope not,” Aunt Melda interjected, coming around to the other side of the bed. “What your uncle did is unforgiveable,” she began without preamble. “And I am sorry you were brought here to be an unwitting part of his schemes.”

  He could understand her humiliation, her feelings of betrayal, after all, it was his uncle who pulled the trigger. But he couldn’t understand how a man who was supposed to love and cherish his wife would do something so terrible it would follow her the rest of her life.

  “What will you do now? Unc—Thom—that man has lost everything. He was so desperate for gold he was stealing from the Olyphant claim.” Joanna leaned over him, her clean, floral scent stirring his senses, making him wish he were a whole man and not as vulnerable and helpless as a baby in a cradle.

  Aunt Melda clicked her tongue and pinned Joanna with her dark gaze. “That man never could hold onto a dollar. I knew I should have done more to keep him from spending so much of his money, but he was sick…he couldn’t seem to get enough, own enough. And it ruined us. I can see that now. I can see that his lust for things blinded him to everything and everyone else.”

  “What about the house, the estate? Will you sell it?” Tim asked, wondering what anyone would do with so much house.

  She shook her head. “No. That house is mine—it’s ridiculous, but it’s my home.”

  “But what about the money—”

  Aunt Melda held up a long-fingered hand to silence Joanna’s outburst. “As I said, Thomas was never good with money, a
nd I knew that somewhere along the line I’d need to find a way to provide for my daughters and myself—just in case something…erm…happened. I never trusted that he wouldn’t get himself wrapped up in something dangerous, but I never thought…I never thought he’d sink so low as to try and kill his own nephew and goddaughter, and use one of the servant boys as his personal spy.”

  Joanna and Tim met gazes and a flash of shared realization moved between them.

  “Who was it?” Joanna asked.

  “Jimmy.”

  “The porter?” Tim asked.

  “Yes. He was perfect because he could sneak around without being seen. Apparently, he’d been watching you two and overheard you two planning in the conservatory. He ran to warn your uncle before you two even left the house. Once word spread of your near deaths, he cried like a baby, spilling the truth. He’s in the cell right next to Tom’s.”

  Tim nodded, remembering how Jimmy always seemed to be hiding in the shadows, out of sight yet vigilant. While he wanted to feel sorry for the boy, he also felt relief that the last remaining piece of his uncle’s evil had been erased. “So, what about the house? The land?”

  “When your uncle first struck it rich, I took some of the money and put it aside. After a few years of accumulated interest, I bought a claim of my own.

  Realization speared him. “You’re Olyphant?”

  A slow smile spread over Aunt Melda’s face. “Olyphant was my mother’s maiden name. I bought the claim knowing it would be worth something someday, and I kept it a secret from Tom. Apparently, he got wind of someone buying the claim opposite of his. Now, about four years ago, I’d overheard him talking about how the gold veins in his stake moved deeper into the mountain, and that’s the reason I claimed the stake where I did—”

  “To make sure he couldn’t get to it, dig it out, and then waste it all,” Tim supplied.

  “That’s right. Unfortunately, your uncle didn’t see the title of ownership by Olyphant as a deterrent. He decided to go ahead and get at the gold anyway.”

  Joanna hummed, then sat back in her chair, her hand still firmly in his. It was truly an intimate feeling—having her so close. Touching her, their fingers linked.

  “It all makes sense now,” Joanna marveled. “So, you’ll use the money you’ll make from the mine to keep the house and run the estate?”

  Aunt Melda stood, her skirts swishing out around her. “Well, I don’t plan to run that estate on my own. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “What about Tim?” Joanna blurted, jerking his attention back to her. She met his gaze, her golden eyes shimmering with excitement. “He knows all about farming and running an operation like that.”

  Something similar to panic roiled in his gut. He couldn’t run a ranch that size, at least not alone. And what about Joanna? How would she fit into the plan?

  “I don’t know—”

  “It’s an excellent idea, Joanna,” Aunt Melda interrupted. She turned her striking attention to Tim. “What do you say, nephew? You’d have the run of the place. You could hire whoever you need, and you could stay in the house…and so could Joanna.”

  His belly tightened with anticipation and apprehension as the brilliance of shock flittered over Joanna’s face.

  “Me? Stay at the estate? I-I…what would I do there? My ma is in Shawnee, and Hess is dead—”

  “That’s right. Dalton Hess is dead. Your preposterous mission to bring him to justice is complete. You can do whatever you want now. You can stay at the estate with me and Tim, or you can go back to Shawnee. It’s your choice.” Aunt Melda floated around the end of the bed and stopped just inside the door, her hand on the jamb. She pinned Tim with a devilish gaze, her eyes dancing behind her stern expression. “I suggest you gather your strength soon, Timothy.” With that, she departed, leaving Tim with the clear understanding that the woman wasn’t speaking about physical strength. She knew he needed the strength of mind and will to do what his heart was begging him to do.

  He cleared his throat. “Joanna,” he began. She turned to him, her expression pensive. What was going on in her clever, beguiling head? “When we were down in the mine…I didn’t think we were going to make it. I could feel death hanging over us, waiting for its chance to strike. But…I prayed, I hoped that I would get the chance to save you, to show you that you were wrong…”

  She held her breath, her hand in his shaking. “But you did save me, Tim. That bullet hole in your back proves you did just as you’d hoped.”

  He laughed, ignoring the pain it brought. “And I’d do it again without a second’s hesitation.”

  Joanna’s cheeks reddened, and her breathing became labored. “So, what was I wrong about that you were willing to defy death to show me?” His voice was a breathless rush that tickled his face, and the heat in the pit of his belly rose into his chest, making his lungs constrict.

  He turned to his side and raised his left hand to press it against her warm cheek. It was as soft as velvet, as smooth as the finest silk. He rubbed his thumb along her flesh, and it felt so good beneath his touch.

  “You told me that you loved your brother and that he was everything to you, and that you had to find Hess to make him pay for taking him from you. You said you had to…because Joe was the only man who loved you.”

  Tim watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted. The urge to kiss her swamped him, but he pushed it down. He needed to get through this, needed her to see, to understand…

  “You were wrong,” he murmured.

  She shuddered, and he felt the strength of it against his hand. “I was?” she breathed.

  He cocked a crooked smile. “Yes, you were. Joe isn’t the only man who loves you… I love you, Joanna. With everything in me, I love you. Desperately.”

  Joanna gasped, the color draining from her face.

  It wasn’t the response he expected.

  He forged ahead. “I know you want to go back to Shawnee, but I want you to consider staying here. I’ll take care of the estate, you can help Aunt Melda do whatever it is Aunt Melda will do now that Uncle Thomas isn’t hanging from her neck, and I can court you properly.” He sat up and slid his hand behind her head, pulling her down so their eyes were level, their lips only centimeters apart.

  “Say you’ll stay. Give me the chance to court you, to show you that I am a man you can fall in love with. That I am a man worthy of being your husband.” He could hear the pleading in his own voice, but he didn’t care. He needed Joanna like he needed his next breath, and if she chose to leave him, he’d spend the rest of his days suffocating.

  Trembling, Joanna closed her eyes. She took three long, slow breaths. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Was she guilty about getting him shot—again? Was she disappointed that a man like him, a simple farmer’s son, had fallen in love with her?

  Long moments ticked by and he waited, praying she would open her eyes and tell him he had a chance, just the sliver of a chance to win her heart.

  After one more long, slow breath, she opened her eyes, and the heart in his chest thudded to a halt.

  Her golden gaze was filled with a heat, a glowing fire he’d never seen before. “Joanna?”

  “Timothy, I didn’t come to Morgan’s Crossing to find anyone other than Dalton Hess. I never expected to run smack into a tall, wiry, much too charming farmer from some boom town in Texas. I never expected to shoot him. I never expected that he’d follow me around like a guardian angel I never knew I needed.” She pulled her hand from his on the bed and pressed it to her belly.

  Tim’s mind whirled; was she going to say no? Was she pulling away?

  “I didn’t mean to make you fall in love with me, Tim.” He stopped breathing. She’s going to say no.

  “You didn’t make me do anything. I think I fell in love with you the moment you looked up at me in the doorway to the mansion and snapped at me about being in the house. I knew right then that you’d mean more to me than my own blood—because you’re in my b
lood. And no matter how many times I get shot, it’ll never bleed out of me.”

  She gasped. “Timothy—”

  Using his now free hand, he placed his palm on her other cheek, forcing her to look at him. “I love you, Joanna Stopay. Please, give me the chance to win your love.”

  Joanna blinked, a glistening of tears in her eyes.

  Lord, no. Please…

  She shook her head, effectively toppling his heart into his feet.

  “You already had the chance…in the conservatory, in Uncle Thomas’s office, at the mine.”

  He racked his brain, trying to remember what he’d said and done, and whether or not he’d ruined any chance to be with her. “What do you mean?”

  She offered him a soft smile as a single tear slid down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

  “I mean you’ve already had your chance to win my love, Timothy…”

  He stopped breathing, waiting on her next words.

  “And you did. I love you, Timothy Hanlon.”

  Joy soared within him. In a heartbeat, he leaned forward, taking Joanna’s lips with his. She let out a surprised squeak, but the squeak quickly turned to shuddered breaths that shook him to his core. He pulled her into him, deepening the kiss, desperate to taste her, to inscribe her every noise, her every shudder, her every heartbeat, into his memory.

  Using every ounce of strength within him, he pulled away. The sight of her dazed expression, glossy gold eyes, and kiss swollen lips made him groan. He could kiss her all day, every day for the rest of his life. But first…

  “Joanna, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my honor, my greatest treasure?”

  She gifted him with a smile so brilliant, his heart was scorched by the brightness of it.

  “Only if you promise to never get shot again,” she said, smirking.

  He couldn’t help it, he laughed with all the joy and love within him.

  “With you and the trouble you get me in, I can make no promises.”

  Epilogue