Wed to the Texas Outlaw

by Carol Arens

  “Oh—you are?” She blinked at him, her cheeks flushed with what could only be pleasure. “There’s Rebecca, she could do it. The two of us were as skilled at getting out of trouble as we were getting into it.”

  “I’d like to see the idiot madman who might try to hold his own against the pair of you.”

  To see her smiling again made him feel warm inside, gooey even. It felt as though he had lost something precious and suddenly found it again.

  “Well, there was the time that Rebecca and I rousted a whole gang of villains who were about to kill Grandfather Moreland. Of course, I was wearing snakes on my head and Becca was playing funeral music.”

  “They must have been terrified.”

  “Oh, they were and it was satisfying to see, but in the end it was your brother who saved the day. But if it hadn’t been for—”

  “I love you, Melinda.” He cupped her face between his palms and kissed her quickly. He shouldn’t have, but a declaration of love deserved a kiss. “I reckon I shouldn’t say it when we haven’t got much more time together—I just want you to know that you have captured me, completely, and I won’t forget you.”

  Melinda twisted around, repositioning herself so that she straddled his thighs. She placed her hands on his shoulders, gripping with her fingers, gazing at him hard.

  No—not quite hard, there was humor lurking in those clever blues.

  “Do you imagine I will let you?” she asked. “Boone Walker, you may have escaped prison, but you will not escape me.”

  “I’m not the kind of man to get married. I wish I was, but I’m not.”

  “You already did.”

  With that she lifted up on her knees and kissed him. Not a maidenly peck, either. Far from it. She tangled her fingers in his hair then, pressing her lush little body against his chest, ground him against the wall, where he could do nothing but answer her kiss.

  Hell, that was a lie. He could have refused it if he’d wanted to. But right now there was nothing he wanted more than to strip the clothes from her, feel her heated skin against his and eat up her soft moans when he took her.

  Hell again. Hell’s curses! There actually was something he wanted more.

  He wanted to honor her. Giving in to his bodily urges without intending to spend the rest of his life with her—he wouldn’t shame her that way.

  What made this decision so impossible was that it wasn’t simply bodily urges drawing him to her. It was the heart and soul of the woman.

  Melinda sighed, pulled back. “You left me, Boone. Right in the middle of that kiss, you left me.”

  “What if we created a child and I was gone?”

  “Gone where? You said you loved me. What is it that’s—” she waived her hand in the general direction of west “—out there, that you want more than you want me?”

  “Not a single thing.” It was true; there wasn’t anything he wanted more than Melinda. The day that he signed the legal papers annulling their marriage would be the worst of his life. “But there is for you.”

  “No, Boone. You are wrong about that.” Melinda pushed away from him and stood. “For me, out there, there’s nothing. Only men who never see past my smile. Until I married you, I thought I was doomed to be adored.”

  She marched the few steps across the loft then started down the ladder. When all he could see was the top of her head, she popped up again with only her face in view.

  “Just so you know, I’ve put my own personal bounty on you. I’m in hot pursuit even though it looks like I’m going down the ladder.”

  “What’s the price on my head this time?”

  She smiled, arched a pretty brow. “Oh, it’s high. You’ll find out what it is as soon as you admit that I will always be your wife.”

  Her face dipped out of sight one more time, but not for long.

  “And there will be babies—lots of them.”

  * * *

  At midnight a gunshot disturbed the silence. At a quarter past the hour, another rang out, this one coming from a different direction.

  Before going out to sit his watch, Boone had told her that this was a tactic meant to keep them on edge, to make sure they didn’t get any sleep.

  Lying alone in the straw bed, she could say with certainty the tactic was working. She was restless. Looking out the window, she saw the lamps in the house burning.

  Apparently everyone was restless.

  Although it had to be said that lying in bed awake or huddled in front of the fireplace in the house had to be more restful than riding around in the dark shooting off guns.

  Below, she saw Boone sitting on the paddock fence, his rifle across his lap. The frigid light of a full moon shone on him.

  He needed coffee and she needed company. Putting on her heavy coat and only that—very well, she also put on boots but not stockings—she went outside. Crossing the yard toward the house, frost crunched under her feet.

  “Evening, Melinda,” Doc Brown said when she came up the porch steps. He sat in the rocker bundled in a blanket, taking his turn at watch.

  “Evening, Doctor,” she replied then hurried inside, grateful for the warmth that enveloped her.

  Everyone sat in the parlor, just as she had imagined they would be doing. The only one sleeping was Diana.

  As soon as she closed the door behind her, Giselle leaped up to embrace her. They had been through something horrendous together. It formed a bond.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “I’ve just come to get coffee for Boone.”

  “Here, hold Diana for a moment while I fetch it.”

  “If only the shooting would stop,” Trudy said, but she openly snuggled close to Stanley on the couch, sheltering under his arm. That cozy happening would not be going on without the gunfire.

  Stanley looked—different.

  He’d changed over the weeks that she’d known him. He still wore his glasses at the bridge of his nose, his boots hadn’t yet lost all of their shine, but he no longer had the timid look of a tenderfoot.

  And why not? He was in love. Somehow that alone made him seem taller. Perhaps it was his affection for Trudy that made him stop scowling at her and Boone the way he had in the beginning.

  Giselle returned with the coffee. Melinda bid the people and the warmth good night.

  Crossing the yard she saw frost on the brim of Boone’s Stetson and the shoulders of his coat. Bright moonlight made it glitter.

  Poor man must be shivering. He still had two hours of his watch to go before Edward relieved him.

  Another gunshot cut the silence. She misstepped, dribbling hot coffee on her fingers.

  The burn was worth it because Boone smiled when he saw her.

  She raised a cup to him.

  “It smells like heaven. I could kiss you.”

  “Here, hold mine and I’ll climb up.”

  He took the mug. When she scrambled up, cold air rushed up her coat nipping at her nether cheeks. Maybe she ought to have taken the time to dress properly.

  Or not. There was something delicious about the secret—about sitting beside Boone with only a layer of loose cloth between his hands and her imagination.

  “Now you may kiss me,” she said, settling close to him on the rail.

  He handed her mug back to her. While he did not kiss her, he did put his arm around her shoulder to pull her tighter to him.

  “You don’t want to kiss me, after I braved the cold to be with you? To think I could be warm and toasty in—”

  “I want to.”

  “Well, then, please help yourself to my lips.” A husband who declared his love had every right to a kiss and more.

  “What’s my bounty?”

  “I told you when you would find that out.”

&nb
sp; He peered at her from under lowered lids. “I reckon an innocent kiss wouldn’t hurt anything.”

  “It could only help warm us up.”

  Her husband kissed her forehead, chaste and sweet. Truly, it was the same way he kissed Diana.

  Two shots shattered the night at the same time.

  “Are they coming any closer?” she asked, deciding to forget the offense of the kissed forehead for the moment.

  “I don’t think so.” Boone took a long swallow of coffee. “Those fools are wearing themselves out.”

  “They still have the food.”

  “How’s ours holding out? We’ve got to be running low.”

  “There’s enough for two days, three, if everyone but Giselle rations it.”

  They sat in silence, she gazing up at the stars and he staring at the darkness beyond the corral. She assumed he was gnawing at worry the same as she was.

  “I could have freed up the food.” Boone’s voice sounded grim, guilty even.

  “And what did they want in return? Our souls?”

  He shook his head. “Only mine.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. He cupped her face with his big palm.

  “Some things aren’t ours to give away,” she said. “I’m glad you came home.”

  “It was because of you.”

  “Was it?” She turned her face, kissed a callus on his hand.

  “I thought I might do it, join them—that’s what they wanted. In that second, it seemed an easier way to get my freedom. But then I saw you, there in my mind, smiling, believing in the man I could be. It was you who kept me from making the biggest mistake of my life.”

  “No, Boone. That was all you. You are a stronger person than you know.”

  “I think I need to kiss you now.” He set his coffee on the rail, wrapped both of his arms around her.

  “I’m naked under the coat.”

  “I noticed.”

  * * *

  Melinda stared at her breakfast oatmeal waiting for it to look appealing.

  Across the table Giselle was speaking to Trudy, but Melinda found it difficult to focus enough to join in or even pay attention.

  Last night, Boone had noticed she was naked under the coat, given her a rousing kiss that she was certain held a heart full of emotion.

  In the very moment that she thought he was about to slip his hand under the soft wool, caress her until she couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe—truly, his fingers had been plucking at the button over her heart—all of a sudden he’d patted her on the head and sent her off to bed. Alone.

  Alone more or less. An hour after she’d stomped up the loft ladder, he came in.

  She’d heard the creak of the rungs as he’d climbed, felt the shift of the straw when he lay beside her. Was well aware of the strip of cold air between their bodies.

  Before he’d declared his love they had slept her back to his belly. For the warmth, is what he’d claimed.

  She knew better of course; it was for the comfort of human contact.

  As of last night, he apparently no longer wanted that. Not if it offended his newly found sense of honor.

  Blast the man! At least her troubled outlaw chased away the night chill.

  Absently she slid her oatmeal toward Giselle. A mother with a suckling child needed food more than a heartsick bride did.

  “I imagine your papa will be relieved to hear the news,” Giselle said.

  News? Melinda chastised herself for being so caught up in her own self-pity that she missed something critical.

  Perhaps even wonderful.

  There could only be one reason Edward Spears would be relieved about anything these days. Trudy and Stanley becoming engaged!

  Given the intimacy the pair displayed in front of others, what, she could only wonder, happened in private? Well, such privacy as there was in a home with so many people staying in it.

  No doubt Trudy was the recipient of more romance than Melinda. She, a married woman, in the seclusion of the loft, was all but a stranger to it.

  Oddly, seeing Trudy’s joy made her feel lonely. When she ought to feel giddy happiness for her friend, she was sullen, sulking and feeling sorry for herself.

  That would not do. If tonight her husband shared the bed, and she was not convinced he would, she would not be naked under her coat. No, indeed. She would be naked on top of the blanket.

  “Congratulations, Trudy. Stanley will be a wonderful husband.”

  Melinda knew it beyond a doubt. Over the past weeks, she had become fond of the little lawyer. He had become her big brother, in heart if not reality.

  Suddenly someone shouted and cursed vigorously from the area of the barn.

  “Stanley?” Trudy bolted up. “I didn’t think he knew those words.”

  Melinda also stood. “All men know them—some just don’t use them unless—”

  She forgot what she was going to say when Edward began to curse and swear.

  “I’ll take the baby into the bedroom,” Giselle said. She closed the bedroom door behind her and didn’t come back out.

  “I wonder if Papa refused to let Stanley court me.”

  That was unlikely since the courting had already begun in earnest. Trudy’s father would hardly object at this point.

  “We’d best go see.” Melinda took Trudy by the arm, urging her toward the door.

  Something was going on and she was not about to be left in the dark about it.

  Boone, Dr. Brown, Stanley and Edward huddled in a tight circle.

  Dr. Brown gripped a boy by the arm. The adolescent struggled, trying to bite and kick. Unless she was mistaken, this was the King’s messenger boy, the same one who had come before.

  “Stanley! Papa!” All four of the men spun around when they heard Trudy’s cry.

  Stanley crushed something in his fist.

  Trudy hurried across the yard toward him. Melinda ran a step behind.

  “What is it?” Trudy snatched a piece of paper, fine-looking paper, from Stanley. Before she could unfurl it, he snatched it back and ripped it apart.

  “What is it?” Melinda whispered, turning to Boone.

  Stanley put his arm around Trudy’s waist. Edward placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “A demand,” Boone answered gruffly.

  She hardly recognized the man she had married. Anger boiled hot and furious within him—it fired his eyes, stiffened his posture. His hands flexed as if he were crushing stones.

  It could hardly be denied that each of the men looked like erupting volcanoes.

  Boone took a breath then let it out in a slow hiss. “Lump is demanding Trudy. If she doesn’t come, they’re burning the food.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Melinda jumped, startled when Boone suddenly snatched the youngster from Dr. Brown.

  He gripped the front of the child’s shirt, bent over and stared him down. He looked as violent as his reputation portrayed. At least that is what the messenger would see.

  Melinda saw something else. This show of bluster was for a purpose.

  “You scared of me, boy?”

  Defiantly he shook his head.

  Melinda decided that the spot of urine blossoming on his pants said otherwise.

  “You ain’t nobody.” The adolescent kicked Boone’s shin. Her husband did not acknowledge the blow.

  “Who are you?”

  “That ain’t no never mind to you, but I’ll be riding with the Kings, just as soon as I prove myself.”

  “Hell’s curses, I feel like I’m looking at myself at your age. Don’t go that way, kid.”

  For his wise advice, Boone received another kick in the shin spiced with a string of profanity.

 
“I’m going to let you go with a message of my own. You tell Lump and the others, they want Trudy, come and get her. I’ll be waiting.”

  That said, he released the aspiring outlaw. When the boy turned, Boone booted him in the rear and sent him sprawling.

  “Better get used to it down there. That’ll be your life and no mistake about it.”

  He looked up with dirt crusting his tears, but in Melinda’s opinion, the boy did not take Boone’s message to heart. She only hoped that something would get through to him before he lost his soul.

  No one moved, no one spoke, until the boy rode off, vanishing behind the crest of a hill.

  “How long do I have, Boone?” Trudy asked, her shoulders straight but her chin wobbling.

  Everyone looked to him. Somehow, in spite of his past, he was the one with answers, the one in charge.

  Boone placed his big, capable hands on Trudy’s shoulders, smiling while he looked down at her.

  “You have your whole life, Miss Trudy. We’re all going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

  “Load the guns,” Stanley snapped. “We need to practice.”

  Boone dropped his hands. He stared at Stanley then at each one of them.

  Except Melinda. He avoided looking at her and she knew it was deliberate.

  “Load the guns in the wagon. Come midnight, all of you are hightailing it for Buffalo Bend.”

  No!

  Surely he didn’t mean to stay here and meet the Kings by himself?

  Even now he wouldn’t meet her eye, but turned rather and strode quickly toward the barn.

  “Boone!” she called.

  She might as well have been a bug on the ground for all the attention he paid to her.

  This would not do. She hurried after him.

  “Boone, stop!” She pounded his back with her fist.

  When he spun around, his expression was hard.

  “You can’t make me go.” Frustrated, tears pricked her eyes. “I’m staying with you.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “You’ll have to tie me on the wagon, then. I’ll fight you.”

  “You won’t fight me because you know as well as I do that if they get by me here, they’ll come after the wagon. And you’re the only one who can shoot worth a damn.”