The Reluctant Hero
Page 7
She was afraid to answer, embarrassed to admit that he might have hit on the truth. That she wanted more than a hero for a story. That she was no different than Joe Sears, wanting to believe in the type of person who didn’t exist, someone who only existed in her imagination.
She grabbed her shoes, and without bothering to put them on, she rushed past him, got to the door, and stopped.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said quietly, then looked back over her shoulder at him. “I’ll be leaving on the noon stage. You finally managed to convince me, Sheriff. You’re not a hero.”
He looked as though she’d fired a bullet into his heart. She didn’t want to think about it, about him, about what he’d done, or who he really was.
As she rushed back to the hotel, she was acutely aware of the horrendous truth of her situation.
She’d fallen in love. Fallen in love not with a hero, but with an outlaw.
Eight
Tex Knight had but one fault. He failed to recognize his own goodness.
—From Tex Knight Fights His Demons
by Andrea Jackson
What was a hero?
Sitting in her library in her home in Fort Worth, Andrea stared at the words she’d typed. She’d thought she’d always known. He was bigger than life and brave. Courageous to a fault. He always saved the day. Was kind to pets and children.
He was a man who looked deep within himself and liked what he saw. He could look himself in the mirror.
The knock on her door barely disturbed her. It opened, and her mother’s nurse poked her head through the opening. “I know you’re busy writing your story—”
She wished.
“—but there’s a doctor here to see you.”
“A doctor? Is mother—”
“She’s fine. This doctor’s not from around here. He says he’s from Gallant?”
Andrea came to her feet. “I’ll see him.”
Her heart was thundering so hard that she was certain anyone coming into the room would be able to hear it. Wiping her suddenly damp palms on her skirt, she crossed to the door just as John Martin walked in. She gave him a tremulous smile. “Is it Matt?”
His face was somber. “Not in the way that I think you probably mean.” He extended a package. “He asked me to bring this to you.”
She hesitated to take the offering, but in the end curiosity got the better of her, as well as disappointment that Matt was too cowardly to face her.
Although she didn’t know why she should be surprised that he was cowardly. He’d spent his entire life taking the easy way out. Robbing people instead of working hard. Hiding when responsibility stared him in the face.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked as she walked over to a chair and sat, not realizing until she was in place that she was clutching the package as though it were something precious.
Doc took the plush chair nearby and shook his head. “No, thanks, but I would like to stay in case you need me after you open the package.”
“Do you know what’s in here?”
“A portion of it.”
“Do you think I’m going to swoon?”
He smiled. “No.”
“Then why would I need a doctor?”
“Not a doctor. A friend.”
She released a heavy sigh. “Yes, I could probably use a friend.”
She unknotted the string, and when it fell away, she pulled back the brown paper and gaped at the pile of money resting inside.
“Five hundred dollars,” Doc said quietly.
She lifted her gaze to him, afraid to ask, afraid she already knew the answer, wondering why the thought didn’t bring with it any comfort. “Where did it come from?”
“Matt turned himself in to the authorities. He asked me to bring you the money and that letter.”
That letter. She looked at the folded piece of paper resting on top of the money. With trembling fingers she unfolded it.
Dear Andrea,
I’m wishing I had your newfangled contraption for perfect writing right now because my hand is shaking so bad that I don’t know if you’ll be able to read my words. I’ve never been so scared in my life, and that’s saying a lot.
I’m not like you. I’m not good with words. You wanted a hero, darlin’, and I wish I could have been him for you. But I can’t be. But the right one for you is out there somewhere, and I hope you find him. Not just for your stories but for yourself.
Matt
With tears burning her eyes, she looked at John Martin. “Did they send him to prison?”
“For ten years.”
“Where?”
“He doesn’t want you to know. I think that letter was supposed to be good-bye.”
With determination she rose to her feet. “The problem with Matthew Knight is that he has no idea what a hero is.”
“Are you going to teach him?” Doc asked.
“I’m going to try.”
She walked over to her desk, jerked out the story she’d been unable to write, put in another piece of paper, and began typing.
Six months later
Matt Knight noticed her the second she stepped out of the noon stage onto the dusty street. Her blond hair was tucked up beneath a fancy bonnet. The green of the bonnet matched the green of the dress that he knew matched the green of her eyes.
His mouth went dry. His heart was hammering so hard that he thought he might crack a rib. He watched as the stagecoach driver and his guard struggled to get her trunk down from the roof of the stagecoach, watched as they carried it over to the boardwalk and set it down in front of the hotel.
Then to his utter and complete amazement, she left it there and began strolling up the boardwalk, toward his end of town. He swallowed hard, slowly came to his feet, and swept his hat from his head with a shaking hand. He hoped he wasn’t going to need that hand to aim his gun anytime soon.
As she drew nearer, he realized that he’d forgotten exactly how pretty she was. Maybe that was a good thing, because it would have only added to his loneliness, and it had been fairly unbearable as it was. He hadn’t been able to figure out how a man could be so dadgum lonely when there were other people around, but standing here now with her before him, he was beginning to suspect that his loneliness had come about because she hadn’t been there. The one woman he’d come to care about more than any other.
He thought he’d be content to simply stand there and look at her for the remainder of his life.
“Hello, Andi,” he said quietly.
“Sheriff.” She studied him as though she was as hungry to take him all in as he was her. “How was prison?”
He flinched. There was an unexpected spark of anger in her voice.
“Not as bad as it might have been,” he said. “Not as long as it should have been. Thanks to you and Doc.”
They’d petitioned the governor to grant him a pardon based on his heroics in saving the town. He’d never think of his actions that day as heroic, but he was tired of fighting it. Considering every citizen of Gallant had signed the petition, Matt figured it was a battle he’d never win anyway.
“And the citizens of Gallant,” she said.
“Yep. They even gave me my job back. I hadn’t expected that.”
“Has it never occurred to you that you’re not the man you once were?”
“Every day, but I’m still not—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “I know. You’re not a hero. I’m not here looking for a hero, Matt. I’m looking for the man I’ve come to love.”
He was afraid to reach for her, to take what he so desperately wanted. But she apparently had no such compunctions. She stepped forward, wound her arms around his neck, and reached up to press her mouth to his.
He greedily took what she offered, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly against his body, kissing her as though his very life depended on it. And maybe it did.
He drew back and cradled her face between his hands. Here they were in broad d
aylight, carrying on like no one could see. “I’ve got a powerful urge to carry you inside, but it would ruin your reputation, and one of us ought to have a good reputation.”
“You could come to the hotel tonight, and I could show you my typewriter.”
He smiled and touched her cheek. “I’m sorry that the reward offered for my capture wasn’t enough to pay off your father’s debt.”
“Is that why you turned yourself in? To help with my debt?”
He shook his head. “I did a lot of bad things in my youth, Andi. I thought being sheriff here could make up for it. But that morning, the look in your eyes when you realized what I was … Until I faced my past, I realized I could never have a future. The thing was, until you, I never cared if I didn’t have a future. I’ll never be a hero, but I got to thinking that I might not mind being a husband.”
Smiling brightly, she wrapped her arms around his neck again and came up on her toes. “Are you asking?”
“Reckon I am.”
Her eyes grew somber. “I won’t walk away from my father’s debt.”
“I’m not asking you to. But I will ask you to let me help where I can. As far as I can see your fiancé was a fool. If all I ever have is you, Andi, I’ll always be a rich man.”
Epilogue
Tex Knight had a heart as big as Texas and dreams to match.
—From Tex Knight Rides into the Sunset
by Andrea Jackson
THE END. Andrea Knight finished typing two of her favorite words and sat back in her chair with a sigh, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Her series about Tex Knight had done well for her over the years, and this was her final installment.
She looked at the crumpled wanted poster that sat on the edge of her desk, a constant reminder to her that heroes could be found in the most unlikely of places.
She and Matt had bought the Logans’ house shortly after they were married. They’d also bought another typewriter, so she had one in his office where she could be with him for a few hours while he worked and one here at the house so she could write when the muse struck.
Her mother had gone to quietly join her father, and Andrea continued to make payments on her father’s debt.
She heard Sammy’s barking. She was beginning to think that he really did know how to tell time. He was always waiting outside Matt’s office at the end of the day, even though he still spent his nights near his former master.
Andrea got up from her desk, walked through the house, and onto the porch, so she could watch her husband approach. He smiled much more these days.
“Ma!” Their four-year-old son released his hold on his father’s hand and rushed straight into her arms.
She lifted him up and hugged him tightly.
“Did you finish?” he asked.
“Yes, I did.”
Matt walked up to her, slipped his arm around her, and drew her up against his side. “How did it end?” he asked.
She smiled up at him. “Like any good story. The hero got the girl.”
Lorraine Heath is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, especially known for her emotionally rich and unforgettable historical romances set in Texas. She is a RITA Award winner from Romance Writers of America and has received a Career Achievement award from Romantic Times. The author of more than 60 novels, she writes historical and contemporary romance for adults and historical romance for teen readers. Under the names Rachel Hawthorne and Jade Parker, she writes popular contemporary, historical, and paranormal romance for teen readers. She also writes young adult with her son under the name J. A. London. She lives in Plano, Texas. Visit her website at www.lorraineheath.com.
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