Renegade Most Wanted

by Carol Arens

  Billy, Red and Jesse sat around her new table staring at her every move. Were they anything less than a nest of hungry hatchlings?

  “We’ll wait a few more minutes for Matt,” she announced.

  To their credit, the men didn’t groan or complain. Red pulled a deck of cards from his vest pocket and began to deal them out for some sort of game to pass the time.

  Out in the parlor, Lucy stood with her nose pressed against the glass. Emma walked over and knelt beside her with her arms folded on the sill. Lightning scattered within the clouds, made darker by the setting sun.

  “Papa might get wet.”

  “He’ll be along before the rain.”

  The view from the parlor window stretched out for a good half hour ride by wagon. With any luck the drenching would hold off a little longer.

  “Fluffy and Princess might be scared in the barn.” Lucy turned round blue eyes on her. They blinked wide in question. “Can’t I bring them in?”

  The thought of dogs, even little ones, scampering over her floors with hard nails, shaking dirt, fleas and who knew what else on her polished wood, made Emma cringe.

  “They won’t be scared.” Emma hugged Lucy tight while they both scanned the horizon toward town. “They have a nice warm bed of straw and Pearl and Thunder to keep them company.”

  “I wouldn’t be scared of my new room if they slept with me.”

  “Dogs belong outside, sweetie.” Emma stood and dusted a spot of flour from her apron. “We might as well go ahead and have our dinner before it gets cold.”

  Worry for Fluffy and Princess appeared to vanish. Lucy clapped her hands and turned her attention to dinner.

  “I love dinner in the new kitchen!” she called from halfway down the hall.

  If only her own worry for Matt were so easy to dismiss.

  Emma set out dinner for the boys and Lucy. She set aside a good-size portion for Matt. She might even feel like having a bite herself once he walked safely through the door.

  As soon as he flashed her one of his heart-stuttering, cheek-creasing smiles, she’d find the nerve to tell him what she’d decided.

  Over dinner the subject might come up as easily as a knife slicing through the spice cake she’d baked. Spicy cake would naturally lead to talk of the marriage bed.

  Spice to spice—it couldn’t miss. She would turn the lamp down low and romantic, just to be sure.

  * * *

  The entire purpose of having a home of her own was that she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone but herself, Pearl and now Fluffy and Princess.

  Why, then, was she standing at the parlor window staring out into the darkness?

  The boys hadn’t shown any concern about Matt before they’d patted their full bellies and retired to the dugout.

  Lucy, in spite of claiming to be too scared to sleep alone, had drifted right off.

  Dinner had grown cold an hour past. What could be keeping him? The stores had closed at dusk.

  The saloons, however, were just warming up. The women in their fancy dresses would be sure to make him welcome. How often had Jesse and Billy, thinking they were out of earshot, teased Matt about the now lonely ladies of the Long Branch? According to the two of them, the women were stricken with heartache since Matt had married.

  “If that’s where you are, Mr. Suede, you’ll hear about it when you get home.”

  Fog clouded the window where her voice misted it over. She wiped it away and felt herself blush at what she had said. It sounded like what a real wife would say.

  In truth, she hoped he was at the Long Branch. If he wasn’t there, where was he? The prairie stretched before her window, dark and empty.

  What if the rumors of Angus Hawker being in town and hiding in wait were true? What could keep Matt from coming home unless he were dead?

  Emma’s stomach turned queasy at a vision of him lying in the street, bleeding from a gunshot wound.

  Would someone notice? It could happen in a dark alley and with the gunshots that usually went off all night long would anyone think to check on this one?

  All of a sudden Emma’s hair seemed too tight in its bun and her corset cramped up so that the breath was sucked out of her.

  Worrying over a grown man who was doubtless drinking and laughing with a professional woman was useless and hurtful. Sleep would pass the time, and when she woke in the morning things would be sunny and new. Matt would be about his chores and Emma would fix him the best breakfast she knew how.

  Half an hour later, with her hair free and her nightgown flowing about her, worry continued to creep under her skin and niggle through her mind.

  Since lying in bed only made the worry become more vivid, Emma shuffled back to the parlor. She lit the lamp, then turned the flame low, gazing out the window for a moment. At least the rain was holding off.

  She settled down on the sofa to watch the clouds press closer to the earth. At some point Matt would come riding across that prairie, or someone else would with news of him.

  * * *

  Matt was still a half mile away from home when the first raindrop slapped the brim of his hat.

  “Pick up your pace, ladies, if you want to make it dry to the barn.” The pair of wagon horses he had purchased from Jesse a few weeks back weren’t quick, but they were strong and even tempered. Unlike Pearl, who was a pet, and Thunder, who was pure spirit, these two were meant for work.

  Brownie and Blackie, named by Lucy, twitched their ears but remained devoted to their unhurried pace. Unless the storm took its time breaking loose, the bathtub in the back of the wagon would be full of water by the time he made it home.

  Given the late hour, he’d probably be able to sneak the gift to his bride inside and surprise her with it in the morning. The shiny brass tub hadn’t been cheap, but it would give him pleasure to think of her months from now, soaking away the day’s work while snow fell quietly outdoors.

  For an instant Woody Vance’s grinning face flashed in his mind. He cursed Billy out loud for putting the thought in his brain. Let Billy get a bride and see him hand her over to someone else. He cursed again, louder, since there were no women or children around to hear it.

  Blackie and Brownie snorted and continued their reliable plod. A pelting of raindrops smattered his hat at the same time that the yellow glow from a lamp in the parlor came into view.

  Emma must have left it burning to help him find his way in the dark. How many times had he ridden the plains at night without so much as a match blaze to guide him?

  For the rest of the way home, the lamp lit him from the inside out. Emma did nice things for folks without a thought to it. What made her think she’d be happy alone?

  Twenty minutes later Matt dropped the wagon off at the kitchen door. He unhitched the team and took them to the barn.

  He was still a hundred feet from the house when the rain let loose. He dashed across the yard and came in through the kitchen door. He took off his muddy boots and left them on the porch.

  A plate of cold stew and room-warmed biscuits sat on top of the stove.

  He chomped down a biscuit in two bites. He was so hungry that even cold, the stew tasted like heaven. He could have eaten dinner at the Long Branch, but the food at the saloon had the flavor of dirt compared to Emma’s vittles, even stone-cold.

  Matt gobbled down another biscuit, then crossed the hall to the parlor to turn down the lamp that Emma had left burning.

  His heart tripped over in his chest. She hadn’t just left the lamp burning for him—she’d fallen asleep on the sofa…waiting.

  Wasn’t she the image of an angel? She sat with her knees tucked up, her arm stretched along the back of the sofa and her hair scattered loose. The lamplight shone on the curling strands and made them glow. Her nightgown covered her as sheer as morning mist, except where her toes poked out from under the hem.

  He knelt to ease the sudden weakness in his knees. To his remembrance, no one had ever waited up for him.

  He’d wanted t
o touch her hair ever since their wedding day, but she rarely let it loose. A man couldn’t accidentally happen to caress golden curls wrapped tight in a bun.

  He touched a strand at her temple, then drew his fingers through the long mass. He watched it glow in the lamplight. Corn-silk kisses slid over his skin.

  “Emma,” he whispered.

  She smiled in her sleep and stretched so that the fabric of her gown strained across her breasts. “Darlin’, time for bed.”

  A sigh trembled across her lips. Lord have mercy if that sweet mouth wasn’t blushing pink. It would take a better man than him not to kiss it.

  Matt leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Leather brushed silk, and sparks seemed to fly out the ends of his hair. He could have sworn that every song he’d ever sung rushed through him.

  Emma purred deep in her throat. She touched his hair. She drew the side of her hand along his jaw. The warm gold of her wedding band slid across the stubble of his beard with a whisper touch.

  All at once she gasped and opened her eyes. She flung her arms about his neck and squeezed so tight that her lush chest pressed against his dizzy heart.

  “Mercy! I was so worried. I thought sure Hawker had killed you.”

  Something warm and moist smeared against his neck. It could have been the rain he’d brought in on his clothes, but he didn’t think so.

  Matt gripped her shoulders and held her back at arm’s length, searching her eyes for signs of tears. He felt his insides go shaky for an instant when a single glistening drop rolled down her cheek. His own mother had never spared him more than a moment’s worry over the years.

  “It’s all right, darlin’.” He stroked away the precious moisture with his thumb. “I was safe enough at the Long Branch.”

  How he could end up sprawled out on the floor with his wife’s features gone from warm syrup to sour milk was a puzzle he would never understand.

  “I worried my heart out while you—” She stood over him with her fingers clinched up tight. After a moment of heavy breathing, they relaxed and the sour-milk scowl on her face softened to bread dough. Matt couldn’t recall ever seeing a less readable expression in his life.

  “I can’t imagine what got into me.” She held out her hand as though to help him up. “Lands, you have every right to go where you want and see…well, that’s up to you who you see.”

  Since Matt didn’t want to miss an opportunity to touch his wife, he took her hand and eased himself up off the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Matt wasn’t sorry. He felt like a king of the cowboys knowing she could get in a temper over his whereabouts.

  “Since you’re home safe, I’ll say…” Emma slipped her hand out of his. She laced her fingers together in front of her and stared at them as though they held the answer to some confounding puzzle. “I’ll just say good-night.”

  Rain pelted with a sudden burst. It slammed the roof with the force of roving cattle. Hopefully, the new shingles would be a match for nature’s abuse.

  * * *

  Emma turned on her pretty pink toes and walked toward her bedroom.

  “Whoa there, darlin’!” He took a long stride with his own bare feet and caught her elbow in a gentle tug that spun her around up close to his chest. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about my trip to town.”

  “You’re free to take up with anyone you want to,” her lips said, but her eyes had gone a deep wounded blue.

  “First of all, I didn’t take up with anyone. As long as I’m a married man, I won’t.”

  That brightened her eyes a shade.

  “I confess to having more than one drink at the saloon, but mostly I was there to listen. Men tend to be loose with the things they say around a gaming table. I needed to find out if anyone has had word of Hawker.”

  “Lands, yes!” Emma stepped out of his arms. “Tell me everything you heard while I warm up your dinner.”

  Matt followed her foglike gown into the kitchen. Didn’t her hips roll like prairie grass in a breeze?

  “I ate it already.” His fingers itched, so he shoved them into the pockets of his jeans. “He isn’t here—that’s about all I know.”

  “Maybe he’ll have an accident on the way and he’ll never show up at all.”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Like a man who’d never had roots wanting them to grow deep into a woman’s heart. “Come over to the window. I want to show you the other reason I went to town.”

  He spread the curtains apart so that she could see the wagon. Emma stood beside him stretching up on her toes to peer out into the rain.

  “Have mercy!” she cried out. “Is that a copper bathtub? And half-filled with rain!”

  “I never gave you a proper wedding present, so here it is.”

  “Oh, Matt!”

  Still on her toes, she cupped his face in her hands and gave his mouth a quick, joyful kiss before she dashed out the back door into the rainy darkness. Light from the lamp in the kitchen spilled over the porch and wagon. He followed her out and hoped the water sloshing through his toes would douse the fire raging in his gut.

  One glimpse and he knew that would never happen. The rain had all but made the foggy nightgown vanish. She ran down the steps and climbed onto the wagon. Her pink nether cheeks flashed at him when he plodded through the mud behind her.

  “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

  She ran her fingertips along the curved copper edge and shot him a grin, then lifted the hem of her sodden gown to step into the tub.

  As she settled into it, the rainwater crept up her ribs and floated her breasts. They made him think of lily pads in a pond with pink flowers ripe and blooming at the tips.

  “There’s room for two.”

  If she hadn’t reached for him he might have had better sense. But those pretty bare arms dripping water and welcome had him slipping in beneath her.

  He lifted her, spreading his fingers around her ribs and straddling her across his hips. Storm water as a bath wasn’t as cold as a body would have thought.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking, Matt.”

  Matt wasn’t thinking. How could a blessed coherent thought enter a man’s mind when his wife’s exposed breasts came level with his eyes? The world and all its worries spun away so that the only reality was that plump bosom with a pair of pink nipples twisting up with the cold.

  He trailed his fingers over wet gauze and hot flesh.

  The ends of her hair floated on top of the water, curling between them.

  Emma sighed. Her breath touched his lips. He had only to lean forward an inch or two to capture the tip of a blushing pink breast in his mouth, so he did. Surely heaven was more than a reward at the end of life’s road. Emma tasted like paradise.

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking about.” Her voice grew husky brushing across his hair and over his ear.

  “You’ve got a fine mind, Emma.”

  “I think we ought to…” Her sigh rumbled under his hands. “I’d like to…” He pressed a lingering kiss on the wet skin over her heart. It made her clamp her thighs where they straddled his lap. “Even if it’s only for a little while.”

  “It doesn’t have to be for a little while… . Come with me, Emma…come to California.”

  Emma stiffened against him. “You can’t mean that. I just got a home of my own… . It’s everything I ever wanted.”

  He’d asked too much of her. Already her skin had begun to cool under his hands. A shiver stole over her flesh.

  “I’ve come to care for you a great deal.” She blinked away the rain slicing down her face. “We could have this for a little while.”

  “I’ve come to care for you, too, darlin’. That’s why I’m getting up out of this tub.” He did it, too. He slid out from under her and stood near the wagon wheel gazing down, stuffing his heart back into his chest.

  Emma needed a man who would stay here and make her dreams come true.

/>   According to Billy, she needed Woody Vance.

  Chapter Eight

  Sitting on her own front porch with her head in the shade and the afternoon sunshine warming her feet was a delight. She could not have been more content…or distressed.

  Confusion had her missing the final stitches in the party dress she had spent hours by lamplight sewing for Lucy.

  Hadn’t it been said that home is where the heart is? That being true, Emma was home. The boards creaking under her rocking chair, the rustle of the prairie grass blowing clear to the horizon and Pearl’s happy whinny from the corral told Emma that this was where her heart would always be.

  What had come over Matt, asking her to leave it all behind?

  How could he make her feel like a thousand Fourth of July fireworks going off at once, lick her very private flesh, making her all soft and drippy, only to get out of the tub and walk away? Oh, how she’d like to shake him, or stick him with this needle, or kiss him until he couldn’t think.

  It was a fortunate thing for Matthew Suede that he was far away mending fences at this moment.

  “Ouch!” Emma sucked a drop of blood welling up from her finger and tried to clear her head. Woolgathering over things that could never be would end only in heartache or poked fingers.

  Truly, the thing she wanted most was right here under her feet. After Matt and his gang moved on, it would still be here, her own place in the world.

  Emma paid strict attention to the last foot of hem to be stitched. She cut the thread and put the needle into the sewing box.

  “Lucy!” she called. “Come and try on your new dress.”

  When she received no answer she folded the yellow-and-pink fabric across her arm and went in search of her. Lucy was not allowed to wander farther than the creek, so Emma walked that way.

  She stopped at the corral.

  “Hello, Pearl.” She stroked the horse’s long jaw. “Did you hear where that little pixie and Red got to?”

  A snort and a nuzzle to the ribs didn’t tell her much, but Lucy liked the barn. More than once she’d found the child asleep on a fresh pile of straw with her pups curled around her.