The Wedding Kiss

by Hannah Alexander

  “Well, of course we do, but I don’t understand. What on earth are you talking about?”

  He leaned forward and held her gaze, and she felt a chill. She could imagine how his quarry might feel when he’d set the sights of his gun on them. But she returned that gaze with the same steady poise she’d used on Monday when it seemed the whole of Eureka Springs was studying her every move. She thought of the children and their safety. Their future. She thought of Susanna.

  Keara would do whatever it took to protect those she loved.

  Timothy snored.

  Keara grimaced at the young man. “I think you may need a wagon to haul him.”

  The marshal studied his charge. “He’ll be better off riding while he’s loosened up and feeling no pain. Set him in a saddle and he’ll hold on. I think I’ll go help your husband with the horses.” He reached for his hat and walked out the door with a nod to Keara.

  Elam led Moondance from the barn barebacked and unbridled. He went back in for the blanket, saddle, and bridle. He scooped a double helping of oats into the stall trough for Duchess, to keep her mouth occupied so she wouldn’t whinny at the wrong time. He then filled the feed trough outside with oats for the other horses. He and Frey had removed the bridles so the horses could more easily eat and drink without the bits in their mouths.

  Elam closed the door and bolted it behind him just in time—Frey stepped out onto the porch, settling his dark, dusty brown hat onto his head. Elam prayed that Duchess wouldn’t raise her head from her feed trough and call out to Susanna, as she’d done a couple of times from the barn.

  Frey looked grim as he studied the steps—obviously the bloodstains that had spilled from Susanna’s shoulder. He straightened and looked at Elam then shook his head and made his way across the yard.

  “You folks seem like good people.” He opened the gate, glanced back at the house, and shut the gate. “Your wife’s in there watching over her patient like he was her own, and she’s probably got herself convinced I’m the devil, carting an innocent kid off to his death.”

  “He is just a kid.”

  “He’s older than some of the relatives of Jesse James when they made their first kills, but this whole trip out West is just an effort to combine two chores.” Frey shifted his hat on his head, and as he did so, his gray eyes seemed to glint like gunmetal in the rays of sun that hit them. He braced his boot on the lower board in the fence, looked at Elam, then back out into the corral.

  “As I mentioned earlier, Tim Skerit’s been flitting around the edges of that outlaw gang that’s hanging around Eureka Springs these days.”

  “I didn’t know there was an outlaw gang in town,” Elam said. “Sheriff Nolan usually keeps an eye out for such types.” But they could be the ones Brute had mentioned.

  “They’ve not done anything against the law in your town yet, but they have in others. They’ll be rounded up before they wake up in the morning, and most of them will be tried and convicted of robbery and murder. You’d best stay clear of the Springs tonight.”

  “So it’s a fact? He’s running with a gang?” Elam didn’t believe it for a moment. Something about this man irritated him like gravel in his shoe.

  Frey stepped over to his chestnut gelding and scratched his ears as the horse chomped on the oats. “It’s a fact. What isn’t a fact is that Skerit’s been seen taking part in any of their misdeeds.”

  Elam glanced up at that.

  The marshal nodded, giving Elam a tight grin. “This trip’s a warning. I owed his pa a favor from ten years ago, and since I happened to be in the area, I stopped by their place for a visit. This is payback.”

  Elam settled the blanket over Moondance’s back then reached for the saddle he’d braced on the fence rail. “You’re going to let the kid go?”

  “Not until he’s actually seen a jail cell in Missouri.” Frey fixed Elam with a glare. “None of this to the kid, you understand? You start hanging back, talking to him alone on the ride to Seligman, and you’re not riding with us. This is a lesson he’s got to learn early, or he’ll end up like his friends.”

  As Elam slid the bit into Moondance’s mouth and settled the straps over the supple ears, he gave the marshal a second look and found Frey watching him.

  “Misjudged me, did you?”

  Elam held the man’s gaze. “Could be.”

  “I didn’t ride all the way here from Pennsylvania just to escort an old friend’s son to an execution.”

  Elam waited.

  Frey glanced toward the house, straightened his leg from the fence, and stretched. “I came here on the trail of a murderess, and I tracked her to within a few miles of here.”

  “Murderess? You tracked a woman?”

  “Dr. Susanna Luther.”

  Elam narrowed his eyes at the marshal, not doubting for a moment that this was the rogue Brute had mentioned. And yet, he had the sense to add a touch of surprise to his instinctive anger. “That’s not possible.”

  “Now, I’ve heard you’re a decent man, Jensen, and a decent man isn’t willing to believe ill of any of his late wife’s kin, but I have too much proof that backs me up. I have no way of knowing if Dr. Luther reached you here, but she tried to kill me in cold blood just this side of the Springs. Hid in wait for me. She shot at me, I shot back. Couldn’t see if I got her, but that big black horse of hers took off like a field afire, and she clung to it like she’d been nailed on.”

  Elam wanted to curse the man for his lies, but he’d played poker a few times in his life—taught by Brute McBride himself—and he knew how to keep the tell from his face. He wasn’t as good at it as his new wife, but he’d learned a thing or two. The trick, in Brute’s words, was to pretend to be someone else, holding a different hand. Elam pretended to be Timothy Skerit’s father back on the farm, too worried about his son to be interested in the marshal’s other activities.

  “You’re risking that young boy’s life in there to see if we’re harboring your fugitive?” Elam asked.

  Frey shook his head. “I know where to stop if he spikes a fever, and I know how to dress a wound. All he’s going to suffer from this is fear and pain, and that’s what I want. Then he’ll realize that’s what’s in store for him if he mingles with the wrong people.” Frey leaned closer to Elam. “Outlaws aren’t fashionable or flashy. They stink from being on the run, they stink of greed for the working man’s earnings, and they all need to be rounded up and kept away from the innocents of this world. Like you and your new wife.”

  “I don’t believe for a minute Susanna Luther could kill another human being. She’s a doctor, pledged to save lives, not take them.”

  “So was her husband, but it didn’t stop him from offering hospitality to outlaws.”

  The front door opened, and Frey stiffened and turned. Keara stepped out first, her shoulder under Timothy’s arm to help him through the threshold.

  “Time to saddle up and get on down the road before his leg gets too stiff to mount the horse,” Frey said. He held Elam with a straight look. “Those little kids of yours? That pretty new wife? You’re their protector. You can’t let a killer get between you and them.”

  “I haven’t.” Elam checked the cinch on the saddle then walked over to help Frey with the other horses, trying to read the man, and failing. Did he really think he was after a killer, or was he just that good a liar?

  With another look in the marshal’s eyes, Elam shook his head and walked to Keara. He lowered his head and kissed her on the cheek then whispered, “Get word to Tim’s folks.”

  She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t turn your back on him.” Her breath was soft and warm against his cheek then she released him. “Be home in time for supper?”

  Elam nodded and tipped his hat. “I’ll just see them past the bad spots in the road.”

  He straightened and mounted Moondance. Keara’s instincts matched his. He could trust her to take care of things here.

  Fifteen

  The sou
nd of horses’ hooves echoed from the side of the barn, and dust became gritty on Keara’s skin as she watched Elam ride away with the marshal and his prisoner. Timothy swayed in the saddle a bit, but he stayed astride, as the marshal had said he would.

  She turned and walked back to the house, trying to clear her mind of the confusion that had whipped up inside her as the day progressed. The man who had first seemed harsh and judgmental toward his prisoner had revealed a different side soon after he entered the front door of their home. It was as if stepping inside a beautiful painted lady like this house with the gingerbread trim had reminded him he was among civilized people.

  He seemed so sincere that most people would’ve been fooled. Elam didn’t trust him, and she was glad.

  Once the men had gone outside to prepare the horses, Keara had left Timothy to snore a few moments on the sofa and slipped to the window to watch Elam and the marshal in deep discussion out by the fence. Judging by Elam’s expression, she gathered he was playing a close hand. Could Susanna be the subject of discussion?

  “Never rode…” Timothy’s voice had cracked, and he took a breath and tried again as Keara hurried back to his side.

  She pressed her hand to his back and helped him straighten.

  “Never rode with any outlaws.”

  “I know. Was this shooting really an accident?” Keara asked.

  He nodded, looked at her for a moment, and then his eyelids shuttered down again.

  She helped him drink more coffee and pressed a cold cloth to his face. “You’ll need to drink a lot of water to keep from having a bad hangover tomorrow.” She’d waited until he told her he was ready and then helped him out the front door.

  And now, Elam wouldn’t be able to tell her what he’d discussed with the marshal until he returned.

  Supper. He’d be home in time for supper.

  Keara called to Britte and Rolfe. The children came tumbling through the back door, Britte struggling with Cash, eyes wide.

  “Who did Pa ride away with?” she asked, lowering Cash to the floor until he settled onto his rump. “Who were those men?”

  Before Keara could reply, there was a whisper of noise on the stairwell, and she looked up to see Susanna, hair in tangles, sweat dripping down her face, obviously in pain.

  “Keara?”

  “You should be in bed.” Keara rushed up the steps, gesturing to Britte for help. “What were you thinking? What if he’d still been here in the house?”

  “I opened the window, heard them leave.” Susanna rested most of her weight on Keara. Britte rushed to her aunt’s other side and helped Keara get her into the sickroom.

  When Susanna settled back onto the bed, she groaned aloud and grasped her left shoulder. “It hurts.”

  Keara felt her forehead. The fever was still down.

  “Britte,” Keara said, “I want you to run back downstairs and bring me the pot of tea I left on the counter to cool.” It was willow bark and sassafras. Susanna had shown no problem with excess bleeding, and the willow bark would help with the pain. “Also bring the rest of the glass of whiskey on the dining table and water straight from the spring.”

  As soon as Britte left the room, Susanna grasped Keara’s hand with unexpected strength. “I heard him ask you about Duchess.”

  “It’s a good thing Elam had put her in the barn.”

  “You covered for me.”

  “Of course I did. You think we’re going to turn you over to the man who shot you?”

  Susanna’s grip weakened. She looked away. “I shot first.”

  “I didn’t see any bullet holes in the marshal. Gloria was always bragging to me about what a good shot you are. I figure if you intended to kill him, he wouldn’t have been in our house today.”

  Susanna’s gaze returned to Keara. Her jawline relaxed. “You and Elam could be in a lot of trouble for harboring a fugitive.”

  “You think he might have killed Nathaniel.”

  Susanna’s eyelids fluttered, her breath still quick and shallow. “I suspect so.”

  “We’ll take care of some of that pain and let you rest.”

  Susanna glanced out the window, frowning. “It’s been such a confusing couple of days. I’ve not been in my right mind most of the time.”

  “I’m not sure you are now.”

  “There are things happening that I don’t completely understand.”

  “Let us help you with them.”

  “You have the children to consider.”

  “You’re their aunt.”

  Susanna kept her hand in Keara’s, her blue eyes still filled with pain. “I don’t suppose you were able to hear what the marshal told Elam when they were saddling the horses.”

  “I never learned to read lips, but I could read Elam’s face well enough.”

  “And?”

  Keara shrugged. She gently sat on the side of the bed. “US Marshal Driscoll Frey disturbed Elam.”

  “He disturbs me too. You should listen to what his poor young prisoner told you.”

  “I did,” Keara said. “You can be sure the marshal won’t find out about you through Elam or me or Jael or Kellen.”

  Susanna laid her head back and released Keara’s hand at last. “I’ve been trouble to you ever since I arrived, and all you’d have had to do was point him up the stairs and it would have been over. I’d have been out of your life.”

  Keara placed a hand on Susanna’s unhurt shoulder. “Would Gloria have ever betrayed you?”

  “Never.”

  “And neither will we.”

  Susanna’s eyes filled with tears that joined the perspiration on her face. She lowered her lids and nodded. “As soon as Elam returns, I’ll tell you both all I know. I’m afraid it won’t be enough to answer all the questions that have tracked me from Blackmoor. I don’t know the answers. In fact, I don’t know much of anything right now, and I wish I did.”

  “I need to get word to the Skerits. I’ll bring your pistol in case there’s trouble.”

  “You’re riding all the way to Clifty?” Susanna exclaimed.

  “No, I’m riding to Kellen and Jael’s. One of them can ride to the telegraph office in Eureka Springs and get word to Clifty. Timothy said everyone in Clifty knows them. You’ll have whiskey to sip if the pain gets too bad, but I should be back in thirty minutes at most. I’ll ride Buster bareback.”

  Susanna nodded. “Bring me my gun, but I won’t drink the whiskey until you’ve returned. I don’t want to handle a pistol if I’m loopy. Not with the children around.”

  Keara laid a hand on Susanna’s arm. “Thank you. I won’t be gone long.”

  About halfway through Butler Hollow, still a ways from Seligman, Missouri, Elam was catching dust as he trailed the marshal and his charge alongside the railroad tracks. His thoughts were back home. He needed answers he would not get from Frey.

  Murder and cross-country chases were far out of the realm of Elam’s experience. He simply didn’t know what to think. Frey was a double-sided man—dark and threatening on the one side, and yet on the other side he could charm gentle company. Elam didn’t trust either side. That much he did know.

  He caught the sound of a whistle in the distance and gave a gentle tug on his reins. “Hear that?” he called ahead to Frey and his still-wobbly prisoner. “There’s a train coming.” He patted his stallion’s strong neck and dismounted. “Moondance hears that sound a lot and he’s used to it. How about yours?”

  The marshal nodded. Timothy looked at them blankly, but he’d been pretty blank for most of the trip. Definitely not a whiskey drinker.

  Frey rolled his eyes, slid from his mount, and looped the reins around a sturdy tree limb. He pulled the rope from his saddle and wrapped it around the neck of Timothy’s horse. “Hop down, Skerit. Can’t be delivering my prisoner any more damaged than he is right now or I’ll be accused of brutality.”

  The kid groaned as he leaned to dismount, and Elam rushed forward to help catch him. Frey took the full weight with
no problem and set his prisoner onto his feet. He tied the horse to the trunk of a sturdy tree and nudged Timothy clear then reached into his saddlebags and pulled out the jar of tea Keara had sent. He checked the wound, nodded at the lack of bleeding, and handed Timothy the jar as the train rumbled in their direction around a curve and through the trees.

  The kid’s horse screamed and pawed at the tree trunk. Frey’s horse and Moondance remained unmoved except to look at the inexperienced gelding with dark-eyed disdain. The sound and weight of the huge cars rumbled against the hillsides and made the earth move beneath their feet.

  Elam had guided them past a cluster of downed trees that had been blown over by their roots when a twister hit earlier in the spring. He’d shown them where the sinkholes were, how to circle the trees without falling through the ground. What he hadn’t managed to do was figure out the marshal’s real intentions toward the kid.

  When the final rumbles of the train had passed, Elam nodded to the marshal. “I think you have everything pretty well under control. I’m going to get back home to my family.”

  Timothy cast him a nervous glance, and for a moment, Elam hesitated.

  “There’s an inn at Seligman, only a couple more miles up the road,” Elam said. “Last I heard, there was a doctor nearby. Reasonable rates, and staying there could keep you from stumbling over a rough road to Cassville tonight.”

  Frey nodded. “It’s been a long day. I think we’ll stop. Take care of that little family of yours. Don’t forget what I told you.”

  Something in his gaze and voice warned Elam that he might have company again in the next couple of days, as soon as Frey had delivered his hostage to Cassville.

  Keara returned home less than thirty minutes from the time she’d left, secure in the knowledge that Jael would have word to the Skerits within the hour about their son’s dilemma.

  She checked on Susanna then took the gun from the room and left Susanna with the whiskey and her niece and nephews, hoping maybe they could help distract her from her pain.