Renegade Most Wanted

by Carol Arens

  The inside of the barn was dim and somewhat cooler than it was outside. Until the trees she’d planted all around her property grew, the shade of the barn would be a rare treat.

  Chickens scratched in the hay and birds twittered in the rafters, but otherwise the barn was silent with no lingering laughter or puppy yaps to indicate that Lucy had come inside.

  Here in the barn, life was tranquil. Emma hated to leave the cool shelter and walk all the way to the creek in the harsh sunshine.

  She sat on a bale of straw. It wouldn’t hurt to take a moment to sit, to listen to the quiet sound of her breathing, let it slow down and make her peaceful inside. She closed her eyes, she breathed, she felt the soothing beat of her heart.

  Life slowed to one perfect moment until… “Funny place for a nap, darlin’.”

  She had to open her eyes. She could hardly pretend he wasn’t standing in her barn.

  Mercy, she should not have opened her eyes. She ought to have gotten up and walked out of the barn without looking at him.

  How could she have known Matt would be standing nearly over her stripped down to his jeans? Her gaze wandered up his denims. It stopped for an instant at his bare navel peeking out from a chestnut whirl of man hair, then it slipped upward to linger on his chest, which was misted with a sheen of sweat from the work he had been doing. Strength etched the muscles of his arm where it gripped a pitchfork with hay dangling from the end.

  She might have been able to wish him good-afternoon without her nipples puckering in recollection of cool water and hot lips if she hadn’t looked into his eyes.

  He gazed down at her with the same red-hot wanting as he had in the tub. Blast the man! He probably saw the same thing in her eyes.

  “Can’t a woman get a moment’s peace in her own barn?” Anger rushed to her aid. How dare the man look at her like that when he wanted to crush her dreams!

  “Not if she wants her animals fed.”

  “She does want her animals fed. Until the end of summer. Between now and then, she doesn’t want to be kissed, or…” She curled her fists into tight balls, cutting her worn fingernails into her palms. She did want that. That and more. “Or…seduced.”

  She stood and turned toward the door. Have mercy if the simmer in his eyes hadn’t turned to fast boil. If she didn’t run for the door, she would be done for sure.

  So she ran. She spun about, halfway out of the barn door, to see him leaning against the pitchfork.

  “Don’t ever ask me to leave here again.” When she ran this time it was so he wouldn’t see the single tear streaking down her face.

  * * *

  The last thing Matt felt in the mood for was a party, but in another hour, guests from all over the county would be rolling in.

  The house was finished, furnished and ready to show off to the neighbors. There would be dancing and good food, laughter and fine conversation. Hickory Willie’s Jug and Fiddle Band would play and Matt would sing along.

  Only he would know that the fun-loving tunes came only from his throat. His heart couldn’t rustle up a grin for the world. Ever since he’d asked Emma to come to California, her smile had been closed up against him.

  He couldn’t blame her. They had struck a bargain. Like an idiot, he had tried to change the rules at the worst possible moment.

  As events stood now, it didn’t matter whether Emma smiled or frowned. Even if she had lavished him with attention these past few days, the songs in his heart would be dried up.

  The house was finished and summer was nearly over. When he took his family to California, he’d be leaving his heart here.

  Matt glanced into the mirror that hung by a wire on the soddie wall and guessed he was presentable enough. His hair was washed, his face shaven. He tugged on his Sunday vest, brushed off some dust, then went outside and strode toward the house in the fancy party boots he had purchased from Rath and Wright’s.

  Walking into the parlor, Matt felt his heart ease a bit. Lucy rolled about on the floor with the pups in a yellow-and-pink-flowered blur. He hoped that the promise of new pups in California would ease the ache of losing these.

  “Lucy, those dogs belong outside,” Emma called from the bedroom. “Mind your dress so you don’t get it dirty.”

  Lucy stood up and gathered a pup under each arm. She hadn’t noticed him at first gazing down at her with his heart in his throat.

  “You look so handsome, Papa.”

  “You look fetching yourself, little lady.”

  Lucy balanced a pup on each hip, turning her head this way and that.

  “Mama Emma curled my hair with the hot iron and molasses.”

  “You’ll be the prettiest little girl at the party.”

  She giggled, whether from the compliment or the puppy paws tickling her ribs, he couldn’t tell.

  “I know. Mama Emma already told me that.”

  “You take those little dogs outside now, and don’t get your dress dirty.”

  “I won’t, Pa.” She stepped carefully down the porch with a pair of tails smacking the yellow bow on the back of her dress.

  Matt walked down the hall and stopped at Emma’s open bedroom door. She stood before her dressing mirror tucking her hair into a tight bun. She glanced at him in the glass but didn’t speak.

  “Lucy looks as sweet as a lump of sugar. It was good of you to go to the trouble for her.”

  Emma gave him one crisp nod in reply and continued twisting and tucking her hair.

  “I sure do miss your smile, darlin’.”

  Her reflection in the mirror frowned at him.

  “Do you think you might spare me one if I never try to drag you off your land again?”

  She turned but didn’t look at him. She studied the ruffle at the hem of her dress and folded her arms over her chest. “No more trying to woo me into changing my mind?”

  “That won’t be easy, darlin’, but I promise.”

  Finally she smiled at him. It wasn’t the usual bright and shining Emma smile, but it would do for the moment. “You look like sunshine.”

  This time the smile shone from her eyes. He had made her a fool’s promise, one that would be harder than rocks to keep.

  “So beautiful.”

  Too beautiful to be living out here alone. Any one of a dozen horrible things could happen to her. What if Billy was right about Emma needing Woody? His cousin saw the long and short of it plain enough.

  The problem was that Billy cared for Emma in a different way. His belly wouldn’t feel as if it had barbed wire twisting in it. Clearly, Billy’s fingers didn’t itch to punch the farmer in the gut.

  In his way, Billy was the more loyal friend. Matt ought to be enough of a man to face what needed to be done and leave Emma safely in the arms of another.

  It would soothe him to make up a song about Emma’s pretty yellow party dress, to yodel out a tune about her inner sunshine. But it would break his heart, too, because it would be Woody’s song. The sodbuster might be the one to see the sun rising with her each morning and setting with her in the evening.

  Emma would be Woody’s sunshine.

  “You clean up just fine yourself, cowboy,” Emma said.

  “I think I’d like to see your hair down loose tonight. Would you mind?”

  Her smile told him that she wouldn’t. She reached into a drawer beside her dressing mirror and pulled out a long fat yellow ribbon the same color as her dress. She laid it over her shoulder and turned to the mirror, plucking her hair out of the bun.

  A golden wave that swallowed him whole rolled down her back. He shouldn’t touch her—there was a promise to be kept. Even if there weren’t, touching would make the parting so much harder when it came.

  How long had he waited, though, for a moment just like this?

  He walked up behind her and took the ribbon from her shoulder. With both hands he spread his fingers through the long glowing strands. He let her hair loop and twist around his fingers from the nape of her neck to the curls flirting a
t her waist. At last he tied the ribbon in a bow at her slender neck.

  Golden hair, bright yellow bow.

  Woody’s sunshine.

  * * *

  Standing on the front porch, Emma watched a pair of buggies stirring the dust less than a quarter mile from the house. It was a relief to face the party without the shadow that had been between her and Matt lately. At least they now had an understanding. Now they could go back to the Matt and Emma they had been before…or nearly.

  “Mama! Mama! Somebody’s coming!” Lucy dashed down the steps and then up again to get a better view of the approaching guests. “All the kids can play with my puppies.”

  “That sounds just fine, Lucy.”

  Boots thumped on the porch from behind.

  “Papa, look. The party’s starting…I see kids!” Lucy hopped down the steps, one at a time.

  “She brings to mind a butterfly,” Matt said. “Pretty as anything you ever saw and twice as busy.”

  “It’s a sign of good health.” Emma had never seen Lucy sick and prayed she wouldn’t. The baby that Mrs. Sizeloff had gone to pray over had barely recovered and now another child in town was ill.

  “Matt, do you think we should have called off the party? That’s two little ones now with the cholera.”

  “Life’s got to go on. We can’t hide from it.”

  Matt was right. Two sick children did not make an epidemic. Emma stored the concern in the back of her mind. For now, all she needed to worry about was feeding everyone and making sure they had a fine time.

  “Here come the Sizeloffs…I can’t make out the other wagon,” she said.

  “Looks like Sarah Michaels and her brother.”

  Matt took her shoulders in his hands and turned her toward him. Another foot closer and it would be a hug.

  “I’ll say it again—you look so pretty. I just want you to know I think so.”

  Both wagons pulled into the yard at the same time.

  Woody jumped out of the seat then helped his sister down with a big steady hand under her arms. Charlie and Lucy raced each other toward the barn in search of pups.

  Rachael Sizeloff handed baby Maude down to her Josie and then stepped carefully off the wagon clutching his free hand.

  From the barn, the twang of a fiddle and the hoot of a whiskey jug tickled the afternoon. Emma’s toes itched to be dancing. As hostess, her chances would be limited with all the visiting and welcoming to be done, but surely there would be time enough to do a reel or two with Matt?

  Emma greeted Rachael with a hug and Joseph with a welcoming smile before the couple walked toward the barn.

  If only greeting Woody and his sister could have been that easy. Woody’s smile at her was too warm and his handshake too long.

  “You look as pretty as ripe corn in that dress, Mrs. Suede,” Woody murmured, still clutching her fingers and standing closer than he ought to.

  Emma supposed that ripe corn was probably a pretty sight to a farmer, but it made her feel bright and lumpy. With the way he had taken possession of her hand she felt downright harvested.

  She took a step closer to Matt, forcing Woody to let go of her hand. Matt wrapped his arm around her waist, which, she decided, did not qualify as a seduction, so she leaned into it.

  Sarah sighed and shot her brother a sidelong glance. Still Woody grinned down like a smitten schoolboy.

  Billy turned the corner of the barn, spotted them and strode across the yard with a smile stretching his mustache. His hair, glistening with pomade, caught the sun’s sparkle and reflected his high spirits.

  “Glad you could make it, Woodrow,” Matt muttered. Cowboy fist met farmer fist in a grip that seemed too firm to be gracious. The veins on each tanned hand rose stiff over clenched muscles.

  “Pleased to be here. Looks like a fine new house.”

  Matt smiled for all he was worth, even though his eyes didn’t appear to Emma to shine with any warmth toward his guest.

  “Matt,” Billy said, clasping his cousin on the shoulder and giving Sarah a quick wink. “Whiskey Willie’s asking for you. Sounds important. Say, Woody, since Matt’s going to be tied up with the band tonight maybe you could give our Emma a dance or two. It would be a crime to let her new dancing shoes go to waste.”

  Matt, being shoved toward the barn by Billy, grumbled something about doing his own dancing.

  Woody took an eager step toward her and she backed up two.

  “Woodrow Vance, what’s come over you?” Sarah elbowed her brother out of the way.

  “We all know what’s coming,” he whispered in his sister’s ear. Apparently the farmer was not aware of the way his voice carried, for Emma heard every word. “I just aim to be first in line.”

  * * *

  Emma slipped into the room that Matt had built especially for her copper tub and closed the door with a quiet click. She leaned against the wall trying to catch her breath.

  Woodrow Vance danced like a bull, heavy-footed with endless endurance. It was only by claiming to need to use the privy that she had escaped him.

  Woody had not been satisfied to be the first in line for a dance. He had made himself her shadow.

  When she greeted a newly arriving guest, he stood beside her grinning. When she tended to the food table, he followed along nibbling this and that.

  Praise be that he hadn’t felt it seemly to accompany her to the outhouse.

  Emma bent to check the soles of her new shoes. It would be a wonder if they hadn’t worn through. She brushed off a streak of dirt where Woody’s boot had landed on her foot instead of the floor.

  Footsteps pattered across the kitchen floor followed by a few more. Luckily they sounded light and womanly. Woody must believe that she was still indisposed, praise be!

  “Isn’t this the loveliest kitchen you ever saw?” Emma didn’t recognize the speaker’s voice, but she glowed inside at the comment.

  It was a pretty kitchen. It touched her with deep contentment when Matt, Lucy and the boys were gathered in it. Even on the rare occasion she found herself alone in this room, she never felt lonely.

  “The stove alone would make me swoon.”

  “And an indoor pump! Matthew Suede must be smitten with his new wife, for sure, to build her such a fine place.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if he was smitten with me.” Several feminine voices twittered in agreement.

  “And it wouldn’t be because of a house,” another unrecognized voice said with a sultry chuckle.

  “Gracious, ladies!” At last a voice that Emma recognized. Mrs. Sizeloff gave a gentle scolding. “You ought to be looking at the single men. It wouldn’t hurt if one of you entertained Mr. Vance and gave our hostess a respite.”

  “Lordy, Mrs. Sizeloff, he doesn’t even know we’re here.”

  “I expect to see him be the first to come courting once…well, you know,” a voice said.

  Emma let go of her battered shoes. The balls of her feet touched the floor with a pinch. She wouldn’t be courting anyone once Matt moved on. As much as she needed to keep the distance between them, she hadn’t met a man who could take his place.

  “A widow with a spread like this one won’t be alone for long.”

  A widow! The ladies didn’t know that Matt would be long gone before there was any danger to him.

  “I heard that Hawker is no more than a week away.”

  “Where’d you hear that, Gracie? Leo Ford told me two weeks and you know how he hears everything, working at the telegraph like he does.”

  A week? Two weeks? How had the summer passed by so fast?

  From the barn, Emma heard Willie plucking at his fiddle and Matt singing along. The full, soul-twisting sound of his voice whispered through the walls.

  Would ever a day come that her heart wouldn’t hear it?

  * * *

  Singing songs while watching Emma and Woody prance about the barn made Matt feel raw and mean inside.

  With night coming on, he half expected to see the farme
r leading his wife off for a stroll in the moonlight. Woody Vance was wearing thin on his nerves.

  The man followed Emma around the way Princess followed little Lucy. It was a wonder that his tongue didn’t hang out of his mouth, panting.

  To her credit, Emma tried to direct his attention toward the unmarried ladies. But Woodrow Vance had his cap set and he didn’t appear to care who knew it.

  Matt took a break from singing and sat down on a barrel behind Wille and his band. Deep in shadow, he watched Emma’s attempts to outwit Woody’s advances.

  She was a lady who knew how to take care of herself in most situations. There were times, though, when a woman needed a man’s protection. For that reason, Matt clenched his fists on his thighs instead of wrapping them around Woody’s throat.

  Hell, Emma would need a man to stand up for her soon, and discounting a bitter resentment toward him, Woody was a decent choice.

  With the sun gone down and the barn lamps turned up, Matt’s corner had grown dark. From the shadow he watched the world going on without him. He studied things that he wouldn’t be around to see.

  Jesse and his girl tapped their toes, a whirl of bright calico and new leather boots. They had the look of fresh colts, in love with their world and the joy of being alive. That would be one wedding he’d be sorry to miss.

  Near the punch bowl, Billy carried on a flirtation with Sarah Michaels. He’d likely get kissed before the party ended.

  As usual, Red bore watching. A gathering of young ladies ringed him. Lenore Pendragon appeared to hang on his every word. Even though Matt couldn’t hear what the boy said, it was clear enough by his body motion that he was describing the glories of a gunfight. A more refined town, like San Francisco, might be just the place to keep his charge healthy to adulthood.

  Beside the barn door Woody had Emma backed up against the wall. Matt leaped to his feet. It seemed that his hands might end up around Vance’s throat after all.

  Or maybe not. He sat down again, reassured by the dainty fist that Emma had curled and set in position to swing.

  With the way her color rose to match the screech of Willie’s fiddle, Woody might be the one in need of rescue.

  As it turned out, no one needed to be rescued or wounded. Lucy dashed up to yank on Emma’s skirt just in time to keep her from acting on her obvious intention. From the best Matt could tell, a little boy had lassoed too much of Fluffy’s attention and his daughter meant to have it back.