The Lawman Claims His Bride (Love Inspired Historical)

by Ryan, Renee

  “Oh?” She gave him a saucy swish of her shoulders. “Sure it can’t wait?”

  He looked over at the crackling fire and swallowed. If his head wasn’t pounding he’d forget everything except showing his wife just how much he loved her. Then again, his head didn’t hurt that much. Their discussion could wait.

  He reached to her, then quickly dropped his hand. No. They needed to clear the air between them first. “My parents’ wedding gift,” he blurted out. “We have to decide what we’re going to do with the land.”

  She sat up straighter. “You’re asking for my opinion?”

  “You’re my wife, Megan.” He took her hand. “My partner in life. Every decision we make from this day forward we make together.”

  “Oh, Logan.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. “If I wasn’t already married to you, that speech would have sealed the deal.”

  There was such satisfaction in her eyes, such joy, he forgot what they were talking about and merely basked in the moment. His head was feeling better by the minute.

  “What do you want to do about the land?” she asked, her tone serious as she scooted back to her side of the sofa. “Tell me the truth.”

  Had she asked him that question a week ago, Logan wouldn’t have known what to say. Today, however, he knew exactly what was in his mind. And his heart.

  “I want to work the land,” he admitted. “I want to build our family here, together, on this ranch, in our own house. I want to stand by your side every day and spend every night in your sweet arms. I want to watch our children grow and mature into godly adults because we were good examples as individuals and as a couple.”

  When he finished speaking, she stared at him for several long seconds. Logan saw the hope in her eyes, and the hesitation, as well. “But you’ve spent years making a name for yourself as a lawman,” she said. “You would walk away from all that to be with me here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? When you’re so obviously good at what you do?”

  “Being good at something doesn’t make it a life calling.” He held her gaze, trying to communicate the truth that was in his heart. “I believe God has a different plan for me. For us. And it’s here, on this land. Unless that’s not what you want.”

  “As long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

  “I need to hear you say the words, Megan. Tell me what you want.”

  “I want to work hard with you and play harder,” she began with a dreamy look in her eyes. “I want to laugh well and often. I want to turn to God in times of need and praise Him for our blessings. And no matter how rough or messy life becomes everything will seem easier because we’re together.”

  Logan’s heart swelled with satisfaction. But he had to be sure she knew what she was leaving behind. “What about your friends in Denver?”

  “Denver isn’t so very far away,” she reminded him.

  “A short distance on horseback,” he said.

  “Precisely.”

  “So what do you say, Mrs. Mitchell?” He went on bended knee and took her hand, the one with his ring already on it. “With God as our guide, will you be the love of my life? Will you bear my children and let me stand by your side always?”

  “Yes, Logan. Oh, yes.”

  “Will you let me protect you, and our children for the rest of our lives?”

  She frowned. “I—”

  “Within reason, of course.”

  “Well, since you put it that way. Yes, my handsome husband. Yes.”

  He stood, then pulled her up to join him. “Will you love me until death do us part? As I will love you?”

  Lifting on her toes, she kissed him on the chin, the cheek and then firmly on the lips. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Megan reached out her arms to her mother-in-law. “I can take her if you need a break. She tends to get fussy at this time of day.”

  Making a sound of dismissal, Mrs. Mitchell swung around until her back faced Megan. “Go away,” she shot over her shoulder. “I’m having a private conversation with my granddaughter. Isn’t that right, little Janie?”

  Knowing her sweet, two-month-old baby couldn’t possibly engage in a “conversation,” Megan nevertheless indulged her mother-in-law. “Pardon me.” Her lips twitched, but she kept a serious tone. “Do carry on.”

  She watched as the older woman headed toward the blanket they’d spread out earlier for their family picnic. Her mother-in-law whispered secret promises Megan knew she would do everything in her power to keep. Because that’s what family did for one another.

  Full of unspeakable joy, Megan spun in a circle, silently thanking God for the many blessings he’d bestowed on her in the past year.

  Thank You, Lord. Oh, thank You.

  Arms outstretched, she breathed in the fresh scent of pine on the light breeze blowing across her face. The sound of hammers pounding nails made her smile all the more.

  She turned toward the noise and looked up in time to see her husband, his three younger brothers and their father set their hammers on the ground. They stepped back as a unit to survey their work. It looked as though they’d completed the last section of the frame for Megan and Logan’s new house. When finished, their home would be a smaller version of the one where Logan had grown up.

  “I’d say we’ve earned ourselves a break,” Cyrus said with a slap of satisfaction on Logan’s back.

  Before Logan could agree with his father, a loud whoop rose up from the three younger boys. Giving Cyrus no chance to change his mind, they rushed off to the open field and proceeded to engage in a rousing game of tag. Really, Megan thought, it was a wonder no one ever got hurt.

  Logan turned and caught Megan’s eye. Smiling, he sauntered toward her with a lazy, relaxed gait. “Hello, beautiful.” He kissed her firmly on the lips.

  “You’ve done some excellent work already,” she said, hitching her chin in the direction of the house.

  “It’s going to be a fine place to raise our children.”

  “Speaking of which.” Megan tried for a stern expression, but failed miserably. “Your mother is already spoiling our daughter.”

  “Is she now?” He didn’t seem overly concerned.

  “I’m pretty sure I heard her make a few outrageous promises, including one that would involve a trip to Paris when Jane comes of age, just like the one she’d given Jane’s aunts before they’d gone off to finishing school.”

  That made Logan scowl in a way that warned Megan his mood had shifted. “No Paris. That city is full of Frenchmen.”

  She tried not to laugh at his overprotective tone. “Men being the operative word?” she teased.

  “Precisely.” His scowl deepened as he watched his mother playing with their daughter on the blanket.

  In hopes of distracting him, Megan cupped his face and kissed him on the lips, making sure their mouths stayed connected long enough to ensure he forgot everything on his mind, especially Frenchmen.

  He came up sputtering. “What were we talking about again?”

  “Our new home.” She steered him toward the unfinished structure. “It’s going to be beautiful, Logan.”

  “And large enough for us to have lots and lots of children.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled up at the structure with her.

  Settling against him, Megan sighed happily. “When do you want to get started on those other children?” she whispered low enough for only his ears to hear.

  His grip tightened. “How about later tonight?”

  “Perfect.”

  “But no more girls,” he said in a stern voice. “Our little Jane
is killing me.”

  “She’s only two months old.”

  “And I’m already dealing with Frenchmen.”

  Megan laughed at him. She couldn’t help herself. He looked so handsome when he was flustered.

  “Stop laughing. Boys are easier. Boys I understand.”

  Garrett chose that moment to rush up behind him and swat him on the shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”

  With lightning speed, Logan reached out and tapped Garrett on the back before he could make his getaway. “You’re it again,” Logan said with the superior tone only a big brother could pull off.

  Garrett spun around and gaped at him. The look in his eyes was so forlorn, so full of grief, Megan was reminded of the last time she’d seen the oldest Mitchell. Hunter’s gaze had held a similar expression.

  When Garrett shuffled off, muttering something to his other brothers about Logan cheating again, Megan decided it was time to ask her husband about his trip to Denver the previous afternoon. “What did you find out about Hunter?”

  “His trail has dried up again.” Logan shook his head. “The marshal was a day behind him, just one day, when all signs of Hunter evaporated. It’s like he vanished into thin air.”

  “You’re relieved.” She heard the truth of it in his voice.

  “I guess I am.”

  “We’ll keep praying for him.”

  He nodded. “That’s all we can do at this point.”

  “I’m sorry, Logan.”

  “Me, too.” When he turned and put both his arms around her waist she felt the sadness in him, hated that she’d been the one to put it there by asking about his brother.

  “Come with me.” She tugged on his hand. “Let’s go rescue our daughter from her doting grandmother. Before the woman makes any more promises to the poor girl.”

  “Not yet.” He pulled her back against him. “Thanks, Megan.”

  Confused, she looked up into his eyes. “For what?”

  “For knowing exactly what to say to make my sadness go away, for being a good mother and a wonderful wife. For loving me, even though I waited five years to claim you as my bride.”

  “No, Logan. No regrets. The years apart made our union all the sweeter.”

  “I promise I’ll always love you, Megan. And I’ll never leave you again. Not for more than a day at a time.” He lowered his mouth to hers and proceeded to prove his point.

  And that, Megan decided, was the best promise of all.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Outlaw’s Redemption by Renee Ryan, available as an ebook.

  The Outlaw’s Redemption

  Renee Ryan

  Chapter One

  Denver, Colorado, 1890

  Hunter Mitchell was a free man. After two years of hard labor and endless nights of soul-searching, he’d paid his debt to society. His life was once again his own. Countless possibilities awaited him.

  And yet, here he stood but a stone’s throw away from where his downward spiral had first begun.

  Long before the judge had sentenced him to prison, Hunter had vowed never to return to this house of sin owned by the notorious Mattie Silks. Two years ago he’d made an exception, to take another man’s life.

  So much regret. So much hurt.

  Just when he thought the worst was behind him, and would stay that way, his past had caught up with him again.

  Lips pressed into a hard, flat line, Hunter rolled his shoulders and considered his next move. The most obvious course of action would be to storm through those ridiculously ornate doors and demand what was his. Take what was his.

  He had the right. No one would argue that. But Hunter had learned to be a cautious man.

  Mattie could have lied to him in her letter. She’d done so before. For no other reason than to see how far she could push a man. What the surly madam didn’t realize was that Hunter was no longer susceptible to her games. He knew Mattie’s well-guarded secret, a secret he wouldn’t hesitate to use against her if she tried to toy with him.

  Red-hot determination coiled in his gut. Hunter would get the truth out of the woman tonight.

  No mistakes.

  No loss of control.

  Calm. Cool. Careful.

  Melting into the shadows, he blew into his cupped palms. The air had taken on a cold, nasty bite. Hunter couldn’t help but feel he was being watched, a remnant of his former life when he had to look over his shoulder wherever he went. But those days were over, the members of his former gang either dead or living in Mexico.

  His breath formed a fine mist around his head, adding a sinister feel to what he’d come here to do.

  And yet, and yet, he felt a sliver of hope building inside him. Hope for the future, hope that he could become the godly man he’d once been. And maybe capture some stability along the way.

  He lowered his hands and stepped in the direction of the brothel’s threshold. The physical act of moving brought the rest of the world into focus. Sights, sounds, the smells of stale liquor and wet horse flooded his senses.

  Music drifted out of the brothel’s open windows. The bawdy songs suited the raucous laughter and coarse shouts. Golden light called to Hunter, the soft glow promising warmth from the cold and a momentary respite from the constant loneliness that plagued him.

  An illusion. Nothing but pain and regret followed a night with one of Mattie’s girls.

  And Hunter had stalled long enough.

  With single-minded focus, he shoved away his dark thoughts, then took the steps two at a time. As he shouldered into the vine-covered building, a sickening dread crept through his stomach.

  Nothing had changed. Not the hideous decor. Not the musky odor of cigar smoke mingled with cheap perfume. Not the seedy clientele. The brothel wasn’t as bad as he remembered. It was much worse.

  Mattie Silks was nothing if not obvious.

  The gaudy red velvet furniture stood in stark contrast to the gold filigree wallpaper. Tasteless rugs with bold, floral prints covered the wood flooring. Vulgar paintings hung on the walls. Their vivid colors and shocking themes gave Hunter a new perspective on past sins.

  Only recently back in the habit of praying, he lifted up a silent request.

  Forgive me, Lord.

  A simple prayer, born from a lifetime of bad choices and wrong living. Shaking free of the thought, Hunter stepped deeper into the brothel and caught sight of Mattie’s right-hand man striding toward him, a scowl on his mean, ugly face.

  “Jack.” Hunter took in the big brute’s broad shoulders, flat nose and bad attitude. “Still the ever faithful servant, I see.”

  Jack smiled in response, not a real smile, more a baring of teeth. “You were told to come by tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, well.” Hunter stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m here now.”

  “Nevertheless.” Jack crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Miss Silks isn’t expecting you.”

  “I say we let Mattie decide if she’ll see me tonight.”

  Eyes locked with his, the big man dug in his heels. “She won’t like that you’ve come during business hours.”

  Of course she wouldn’t like it. Neither did Hunter. But he wanted answers more than he wanted to appease a difficult woman like Mattie Silks. “Either you inform her I’m here, or I tell her myself.”

  Finished with the standoff, Hunter started forward.

  Jack stepped into his path. “Wait here.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Frowning, Jack disappeared into the crowd.

  Left to cool his heels, Hunter shifted out of the main traffic area and looked around. Business was booming.

  He heaved a heavy sigh. The curvy blondes, willowy brun
ettes and pouty redheads perpetuated the cycle of sin and degradation. All had similar expressions on their faces, blank, distant, slightly separated from the moment, as if they’d given up hope a long time ago.

  Hunter understood such brokenness, such pain. Understood all too well.

  A small commotion broke out near the back of the room, saving him from further reflection. Low, excited murmurs filled the air, followed by a quick straightening of female shoulders, a widening of male eyes. All heads turned. A beat passed. And then...

  Mattie made her entrance.

  Dressed in a blue silk dress with layers of cream-colored, frothy lace, the infamous madam sauntered through the main parlor of her brothel like a queen lording it over her realm. She ignored everyone but Hunter.

  With a half smile on her lips, she took her time crossing the room, striking a pose every fifth or sixth step. She carried a flute of champagne in her hand. A prop, nothing more. Mattie never indulged in alcohol, especially not during peak business hours.

  Her head was always the clearest in the room, and the reason she’d been able to run her business for the past thirty years with alarming success.

  Hips swaying, her face overly painted, Mattie stopped her approach inches shy of running into Hunter, close enough for him to get a whiff of her cloying perfume.

  “Hunter, darling.” She struck a final, dramatic pose—one hand on her hip, glass poised at shoulder-level, eyes lowered to half-mast. “What a surprise.”

  “A pleasant one, I hope.”

  “Time will tell.” She angled her head to the side. “Greet me properly, you rogue, and maybe I won’t hold your impertinence against you.”

  “But of course.” He leaned down and touched his lips to the plumped, curved cheek she offered. “Hello, Mattie.”

  “Hunter.” She pulled back and studied him with narrow-eyed precision. “Now. Let me look at you.”

  Having been through this routine before, he stood completely still, eyes cast forward. Her gaze traveled from the top of his head, down to his toes and back up again.