by Merry Farmer
“Don’t call me boy!” Ben dug the end of his gun into Lynne’s temple. She clamped her mouth over her shout of fear. “I ain’t no boy.”
“Of course you are.” Cade kept his voice calm, taking a small step toward them. “You’re a Briscoe Boy.”
“I am, and don’t you forget it.” Ben’s grip loosened a hair. Lynne struggled against him to loosen it more.
“Let Miss Tremaine go and you can be much more than that,” Cade went on.
He met and held Lynne’s eyes with complete focus. Then he flickered his glance down. Lynne’s glance followed his, but she had no idea what he was trying to tell her. The only things near where his quick look landed were her feet and Ben’s.
“We can find you a lawyer to help you out, son,” Cade said, still calm. “No one else needs to be hurt.”
“An eye for an eye,” Ben reminded him, pressing his gun into Lynne’s temple once more.
Lynne wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and block out the scene, but she couldn’t. There was a spark in Cade’s eyes that kept her own fixed on him.
“An eye for an eye and a heart for a heart,” Cade said. He raised his hand to his chest.
“That’s not how it goes,” Ben growled. “It’s a tooth for a tooth.”
“A heart for a heart,” Cade repeated. He patted his vest over his heart.
Lynne saw it then, the faint bulk of the Cooper tucked into his vest. Her breath caught in her throat. The world around her sharpened into intense focus. Cade glanced down to hers and Ben’s feet again. He slid his fingers under the edge of his vest. She prayed that this time he’d loaded the Cooper before concealing it.
“A heart for a heart,” he repeated. “A foot for a foot.”
She knew. The plan was crystal clear in her mind.
“Stop saying it that way,” Ben shouted. “It’s an eye for an—”
With all of her strength, Lynne heaved forward and stomped on Ben’s foot with the heel of her boot. Ben gave an almighty cry as his grip on her loosened. Lynne jerked forward as the gun went off. A second gunshot followed immediately behind. She fell, a sharp, hot stinging splitting her scalp.
The wind was knocked out of her as she thumped into the grass. Above, she heard more gunshots, Cade’s shout and Ben’s and those of the men who had ridden with Cade. Something warm and wet trickled down from above her forehead. She raised a hand to her face as the last few shots rang out above her and pulled it away bloody. For a moment, the urge to faint washed over her, but she pushed it back. She would not give in to a little blood. It hurt, but she was still breathing, still thinking. She was alive. She was her Papa’s brave girl, Cade’s fearless woman.
“Lynne, Lynne, are you all right?” Cade dropped to his knees beside her and scooped her into his arms. His eyes were huge and his face went white when he saw the blood streaking her face. “No! Oh, no.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, surprised at how breathless she was. A line across her scalp burned like fire, but she was alive. “I’m fine.”
Cade gaped at her. He shook himself and brushed a hand through her hair.
“Ouch.” She winced.
A smile split his pale face, and if she wasn’t mistaken, tears flooded to his eyes. “It’s just a scratch,” he said. “The bullet grazed you, that’s all.”
He curled protectively over her and kissed her forehead, then her lips. He may have intended it to be a short kiss, but Lynne was so happy to be alive that she grasped the back of his neck and held his mouth against hers long enough to prove to him just how alive she was. She would live for a hundred years if it meant she could be with him like this always. Well, almost like this.
“Ben?” She twisted to see what had happened to the boy they had so foolishly trusted.
He wasn’t dead. Instead he writhed in pain several yards away, clutching his arm. One of his legs was also bleeding. The two other men crouched over him to keep him subdued. They rifled through his pockets and pulled out another pistol and retrieved the silver pocket knife. The knife was handed over to Cade.
“He told me his brother gave it to him,” Lynne said. She saw the two B’s inscribed into the knife with new eyes. “Benjamin Briscoe. My father hired him in St. Louis to drive my wagon.”
“He couldn’t have known.” Cade took the knife from her and tossed it aside. He helped her to sit upright, then threw his arms around her, hugging her tight. “I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he confessed. “I thought I could lose you.”
“You’ll never lose me,” she said, holding him as if she couldn’t let go. “You’ll never lose me and you’ll never be afraid again.”
He laughed at her words, sniffling and wiping a tear from his eye. Then he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her with all the passion of a man whose heart had found its home.
Epilogue
A small crowd was waiting in the field by the edge of Denver City as the wagons rolled up. Lynne wasn’t sure how word had gotten ahead of them that they were arriving, but Cade assured her that news traveled fast in the mountains. Lynne had never imagined anything as beautiful or as grand as the Rocky Mountains that surrounded her new home. They were majestic and awe-inspiring. They gave her hope that the future she was about to build would be a grand one.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Cade winked when he saw the way her face lit up at the bustling new town they approached. “Denver City is a fine place to live.”
“I think it must be.” She slid her arm through his and hugged it as they sat in the wagon’s driver’s seat.
Cade had been a quick learner when it came to driving the wagon after Ben was caught. Ben’s wounds were serious, but there had been a doctor at the river crossing who was able to remove the bullets and bandage him up. There had also been a few local militiamen who were able to take him into custody. Ben was in no condition to travel immediately, but as soon as he recovered, he would be sent on to Denver City to be tried for his crimes.
Lynne wasn’t sure what she hoped the outcome of that trial would be. In the end, Ben had terrified her once she realized how close he had been through the whole journey. Her scalp still twinged with pain where Ben’s bullet had grazed her. But she was alive and safe with Cade, and Ben would get what he deserved in a court of law, as it should be.
“Look,” Lynne sat straighter in the seat, squeezing Cade’s arm with one hand and pointing with the other. “I think that’s my Uncle George.”
“It is.” Cade stiffened, his smile being replaced by a businesslike frown.
“He’s gotten older since the last time I saw him,” Lynne said. “So has Aunt Marion.”
The wagons were all stopping here and there in the field, wherever there was space. Now that the journey was done, half or less of the travelers would have any need for the wagons or the oxen. Scattered amongst the men and women who had come to meet friends or relations at the end of their journey were merchants hoping to buy up what was left or farmers interested in the livestock. Lynne was only too happy to see them. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to set eyes on a ‘prairie schooner’ again.
She was delighted to see her uncle and aunt, though, and as soon as Cade brought the wagon to a stop, she shifted to hop down.
Cade stopped her before she could run off. “Remember how we discussed it,” he said. “We break it to them gently.”
Lynne grinned up at him, her heart turning somersaults over his adorable worry. “Oh, Cade. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to have you for a nephew.”
He let out a breath and adjusted his hat, watching Uncle George and Aunt Marion head toward them. “I’m not so sure about that. I let him down once. He might not even want me to work for him anymore after hearing about all the trouble you had on the journey.”
She just couldn’t imagine her uncle holding any of that against Cade. With a gentle laugh for Cade, she turned just as her uncle and aunt approached the wagon.
“Uncle George! Aunt Marion!” She beamed at the pair of them
. It had been years and years since she had seen them.
“Lynne, my dear.” Her uncle greeted her with a big bear hug and a kiss on her forehead. He held her at arm’s length, surprised that the cloth she wore in her hair was a bandage and not a headband. “What’s this?” His smile turned to concern as he let Aunt Marion scoot in to hug her as well.
Cade climbed down from the wagon with a grave face. “We met some trouble on the way, sir.”
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Marion said, one arm still hugging Lynne while she touched the bandage with her other hand.
Uncle George hooked his thumbs in his belt and stood face to face with Cade. “I’ve heard that from you before, young man.”
Lynne’s heart fluttered to her throat as Cade reddened. Maybe she should have been more worried after all.
“One of the Briscoe Boys found his way into our wagon train, sir. He was captured at the Platte river crossing,” Cade explained, “but there was a confrontation. Lynne was so brave, but she was grazed by the blackguard’s bullet.”
“A Briscoe Boy shot at you?” Uncle George asked, his own face turning red with indignation.
“He did, Uncle, but Cade stopped him. You would have been proud of how he stood up to the man, and how he protected me through the entire journey. Uncle George, he’s wonderful. Thank you for sending him.”
A new, mischievous light lit Uncle George’s eyes. “Is that so?”
“Yes, it is indeed,” Lynne answered.
“I did my best, sir,” Cade added. “I hope you can forgive me for any harm that came to Lynne along the way. She’s… she’s a bit of a handful.”
Uncle George burst into a booming laugh. “That she is.”
“There’s something else.” Lynne peeled away from Aunt Marion and skipped across to Cade, taking his arm. “Uncle George, Aunt Marion, Cade and I wish to be married.”
For a moment there was silence as her aunt and uncle exchanged wide-eyed looks. Her aunt’s face went pink and her eyes shone as if she was trying to suppress a laugh. But it was Uncle George who laughed in earnest.
“Didn’t I tell you?” he said. “Didn’t I tell you that Cade Lawson would make a fine husband for Tom’s girl?”
Lynne’s jaw fell open. Judging by the sudden stiffness in Cade’s arm, he was just as shocked.
“You did,” Aunt Marion beamed in reply. “And you were right, it seems.”
“But,” Cade began, then had to gather himself and start over. “But I let you down last winter, sir. That shipment of silver. I’m surprised you kept me on at all, let alone….” He glanced to Lynne, who was still trying to absorb the situation.
Uncle George laughed and slapped Cade on the shoulder. “Mistakes happen. If you hadn’t fallen asleep that night, those thieves could have caused a violent confrontation, then you and several of my good men would have been killed or wounded instead of just embarrassed.”
“Sir?” A look of stunned relief washed over Cade.
“I think you’d better get used to calling me Uncle George, son. Or just George.” He patted Cade’s arm again, then stepped back to take his wife’s arm. “Looks like our Lynne has made her choice, and if there’s one thing you need to know about Tremaine women, it’s that they don’t change their minds about anything. They’re too bold for that.”
At last, Lynne’s thoughts and emotions settled, and she laughed. Laughed and squeezed Cade’s arm. “We certainly don’t. Once we find the life we want to have, nothing and no one can push us off that path. And I’ve found exactly what I want.”
Cade looked down at her, a smile filled with so much love it took her breath away forming on his lips. Those beautiful, delicious lips of his.
“It’s a good thing we agree, then,” he said, “because I don’t often change my mind either. And I love you, Lynne Tremaine, soon to be Lynne Lawson.”
“I love you too, Cade.”
Her heart was full and safe. She would never have any reason to fear for the rest of her life. With a surge of joy, she lifted herself to the tips of her toes and kissed him.
* * *
But wait. What ever happened to Callie and John Rye? Where did they go when they chased after the men who stole the teapot? And why did they steal that teapot anyhow?
Find out the answers to those questions and more in book two of the Hot on the Trail series, Trail of Hope, coming November 24th! You can preorder Trail of Hope now.
Keep clicking for a sneak peek….
About the Author
I hope you have enjoyed Trail of Kisses. If you’d like to be the first to learn about when the next books in the series come out and more, please sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/RQ-KX And remember, Read it, Review it, Share it!
Merry Farmer lives in suburban Philadelphia with her two cats, Butterfly and Torpedo. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn’t have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about. She is also passionate about blogging, knitting, and cricket and is working toward becoming an internationally certified cricket scorer.
You can email her at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @merryfarmer20.
Merry also has a blog, http://merryfarmer.net,
and a Facebook page, www.facebook.com/merryfarmerauthor
Acknowledgements
I would never be able to do what I do without the help of some fabulous people. I’d like to thank my amazing beta-readers, Keira Montclair, Margaret Brashears, Peggy Henderson, and Sylvia McDaniel for their amazing suggestions and advice. I have to thank my fabulous editor, Aven Rose, once again for helping me go beyond what I thought I was capable of. And finally, where would I be without the Mistress of Badass herself, my publicist Anne Chaconas, and the whole Badass Marketing team.
Keep clicking for a preview of the next Hot on the Trail book, Callie and John’s story, Trail of Hope….
Trail of Hope
By Merry Farmer
Chapter One
“Cal. Callie.”
Callie Lewis jumped at the weak whisper of her brother’s voice in the wagon bed behind her.
“Greg?” she called out, voice cracking over tears that she wasn’t ready to shed. Not yet. Please not yet.
“Callie,” he whispered, fading fast.
Callie tugged the reins to bring the oxen pulling her family’s wagon to a stop. As they slowed, the driver of the wagon behind hers barked out a protest, as did the man driving behind him. Every wagon after hers would have to stop because she stopped, but at her brother’s faint call, nothing could convince her to keep going.
“I’m here, Greg, I’m here.” Her voice shook as she scrambled over the wagon’s seat, tearing back the canvas cover that shielded her brother and his wife and son from the harsh morning light and prairie dust.
Greg lay, pale and wasted, in the hollow made between stacks of their family’s belongings, everything they owned in the world. His head rested close to the driver’s seat while Rebecca’s was close to the back of the wagon. Little Jeremy slept against his mother’s chest, only as Callie climbed down to her brother’s side, she could see the boy wasn’t sleeping at all. Neither was Rebecca. They were still, lifeless.
“Oh no.” Callie clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes stinging. “Greg, no.”
“They’re gone,” he wheezed. “I know.” He moved his hand as it lay curled in Rebecca’s, but wouldn’t let go.
“I’m so sorry,” Callie choked.
She burrowed closer to her brother’s side, searching for his other hand under the thin blanket that covered him. The fever had struck him, Rebecca, and Jeremy shortly after they left Independence only a few weeks ago. Greg had tried to be strong and tough it out at first, but the days of endless walking, the sun beating down, no chance for rest, had taken their toll. Still, he and Rebecca and
Jeremy had gone downhill so fast after the initial symptoms. Not even Dr. Meyers had been able to do anything.
Callie raised Greg’s hand to her face. Panic pulsed through her. She had expected Greg to be hot with fever still, but he was cold, too cold. Even in the dim light of the wagon, she could see how pale he was. His eyes were sunken and his lips cracked. Her strong, brave, adventurous brother, reduced to nothing so fast.
“Don’t leave me.” She pushed out the words through a throat that was squeezing tight with grief. “Please don’t leave me, Greg.”
“Cal,” he panted. His chest barely rose and fell in short, tight gasps. “Sorry.”
“No.” Callie shook her head and brushed tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You can’t die, you can’t.”
“So sorry.”
“But I don’t want to be here,” she pleaded with him, feeling as much like the young girl who thought the sun rose and set around her big brother as she ever had. “I never wanted to go west. This was your dream. Please stay with me.”
“I….” His eyes fluttered, rolling back.
“No!” Callie gripped his hand tighter, pressing it against her chest as if her heart could beat for both of them. “Stay with me. I’m all alone without you.”
The seconds ticked by as she waited for him to answer, waited for him to breath. She thought the worst had come when he whispered, “Rebecca. Jeremy.”
“They’re….” Callie glanced down the wagon to her lifeless sister-in-law and nephew. They had been alive when they set out that morning. They weren’t now.
Greg shook his head, face contorted in sorrow. “Can’t go on without them.”
“You have me,” Callie told him with a sob. “And you’re all I have. Oh, Greg.”