The Cowboy's Reluctant Bride

by Debra Cowan

  “I’ll send Coy to fetch it,” the sheriff said.

  The needle slid through his skin again and again. Gideon grunted. How much longer? “The mayor confessed to everything after I told him I’d matched his prints to those we found in the woods.”

  “He confessed to what?” Roe tied off the last stitch. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

  “I will in a bit,” Josh promised. He looked at Gideon and Ivy. “I’ll take care of the body then come back to talk to both of you some more.”

  “All right,” Ivy said.

  She walked over to stand beside Gideon as the physician bandaged his hand and wrist. The man also redressed the gunshot wound, which had been healing nicely until his struggle with the mayor.

  While they waited for Farrell, Ivy and Gideon caught Roe up on what had happened.

  The sheriff finally returned, and Gideon reined in his impatience to get home. He wanted to change out of this bloody shirt. Be with his wife.

  Josh held up a leather pouch. “I found plenty of stuff in Jumper’s office.”

  “Like what?” Ivy moved over to stand beside her dark-haired friend.

  Pulling out a sheaf of papers, he passed them to Ivy, who brought them over to Gideon.

  “More drawings of Ivy’s house,” Josh said. “Several of them showed railroad tracks. There was also one that replaced Ivy’s barn with a depot.”

  She gasped, outrage plain on her beautiful features. “That despicable, low-down cuss!”

  “A letter from Porter Nichols about the possibility of a railroad was in one of the desk drawers. It was dated late September of last year.”

  Ivy shared a look with Gideon. That was about the time she began receiving the sketches and poems that had gradually become slightly ominous.

  After getting accounts of the morning from both Gideon and Ivy, Josh sent them home. It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the farm. The pup was absurdly glad to see them, running in circles and barking, licking their feet, their hands, wherever she could.

  Gideon checked on the horses and fed the dog, which took longer than usual because he could only use one hand. While he was busy, Ivy bathed.

  When he came inside the house, she wore a light blue dress with darker blue trim on the round neckline and elbow-length sleeves.

  Using only one arm, it took Gideon a bit to get his shirt off and a clean one on. Ivy had biscuits and ham waiting when he returned from the washbasin in the guest bathing room.

  They ate in silence, although he couldn’t keep his eyes off his wife. He wanted to get his hands on her, too. She was quiet. Now that he thought about it, she hadn’t said a lot since they’d left town.

  He felt a twinge of concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes.” Her smile was warm, but something in her eyes heightened his disquiet. “And I’m glad you will be.”

  Roe had sent some laudanum home with them, but Gideon didn’t want anything to cloud his mind. His wife was finally safe. For good. He wanted to see her eyes without the shadows that had been there since he had arrived.

  “The river water is still cold so I soaked your mare’s fetlock and wrapped it. We need to watch her and keep her on stall rest. If we take it easy, I think she’ll heal pretty soon.”

  “Thank you.” Ivy rose, fetching the coffeepot. As she started to refill his cup, he noticed that her hands weren’t quite steady.

  “I don’t need any more, thanks. Why don’t you get off your feet?”

  She hesitantly set the pot on a folded cloth on the table and began to ease down into her chair.

  Gideon curled his good hand around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “This okay?” he asked against her hair, drawing in her fresh scent.

  She nodded, although her spine stayed stiff. “It’s hard to believe the trouble is really over.”

  “It’ll be nice not having to look over our shoulders all the time.” He brushed a kiss against her soft cheek.

  She lightly touched his sutured hand. “Are you in pain?”

  “Some.” Not enough to let go of her. “Not a lot.”

  She’d left her hair down after her bath. He stroked a hand down the inky thickness then moved the heavy mass aside and nuzzled a spot beneath her ear.

  Her head went to the side, but she didn’t relax against him. His lips glided down her elegant neck and over her collarbone.

  Lifting his head so he could see her, he grazed a thumb along the velvety line of her jaw. She opened her eyes, the black depths clouded with some emotion he didn’t recognize.

  It felt like his chest cracked open. “I love you.”

  He’d never said those words to anyone in his life, not even Eleanor.

  A flicker of guilt streaked across Ivy’s features. She sat up, placing a palm lightly over his heart. “We can’t do this.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.” He grinned. “I may have only one good hand, but everything else works.”

  “I mean...I don’t think we should do this.”

  “Roe didn’t say we couldn’t.”

  She shook her head and slid off his lap.

  He reached for her, but the expression on her face had him pulling back. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine, honey. We have the rest of our lives.”

  A tear spilled down her cheek. “I don’t mean...that.”

  “Then what?” He settled a palm on her hip so she couldn’t move farther away.

  She bowed her head, staring down at the floor for a moment before she looked at him. The shadows were back in her eyes. “I can’t stay married.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gideon stood, too. His voice was quiet, his massive body still. Hurt and confusion came off him like a wave. “I thought we were past this.”

  They had both been completely immersed in all the problems befalling her farm, and later his gunshot wound then the fire. Now that everything was over, she couldn’t quiet the doubts. They swirled up like a tornado—swift and crippling and impossible to outrun.

  And deep inside was a fixed black stain of distrust that she couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

  “I told you why I had doubts.”

  “I thought we’d reached an understanding.” He shoved a hand through his hair, grimacing when he raised his gunshot arm. “The other night after the fire, when we were together, I thought you were saying you’d changed your mind. That we were staying married.”

  “I needed you.” She winced. She knew that sounded as if she had used him, and that hadn’t been the case at all. “I know this isn’t fair to you.”

  “Or you, either.” He took a step toward her then stopped. “Tell me what I should do.”

  “There’s nothing.”

  “I don’t understand.” Frustration sharpened his voice.

  Her heart squeezed painfully tight. “I don’t know if I can explain.”

  His blue gaze fixed intently on her. “Try.”

  The words were a plea, not a demand. She choked back a sob. “There’s something wrong with me.”

  “Ivy—”

  “Let me.” She’d never put this into words before, wasn’t sure she could. Hesitantly, she said, “A part of me is always wondering. Waiting.”

  “For the worst.”

  “Yes. It has nothing to do with you. Nothing.”

  “Did I rush you?”

  “No.”

  He seemed to search for words. “Is this because I told you how I feel? I spooked you.”

  She couldn’t bear that he was trying to take responsibility for this. “It’s nothing you did or said. It’s only me. I’m not sure I can ever be a real wife to you.”
>
  “If you’re talking about sleeping together—”

  “I’m not.” The bewildered expression on his face spiked her guilt even higher. She tried a different approach. “You committed yourself completely to me.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s something I can’t do.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can ever really trust you. Trust any man.”

  “How do you know you won’t be able to? Don’t you even want to try?”

  She did. And for a while, it would work. But this distrust was a part of her forever, a dark, shriveled piece of herself that she couldn’t seem to carve out. “You deserve so much more.”

  “You are more.” He hesitated then said, “Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, then another.

  He came to her and slowly, carefully put his arms around her. “Please don’t cry.”

  Sometimes she hated herself. For not seeing Tom the way she should have, for not forgiving him. For not forgiving herself.

  If she did agree to try with Gideon, how long would he wait for something she might never be able to give? She couldn’t make him pay a price that should have been paid only by Tom.

  Gideon pulled back to look at her. The struggle to understand was plain on his face. Desperate. “So, you want to divorce?”

  It broke her heart. “It’s the best thing for you.”

  “It isn’t.” He stepped away, distancing himself finally.

  He could see she was tearing herself up over this. “We don’t have to decide anything right now, do we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The danger is over. I’ll move back to the barn.”

  Her lashes were spiky and wet. “Do you believe I’ll change my mind?”

  “I’d like to think so,” he said quietly. “But at the moment, I’m thinking more along the lines of just taking things slower. I don’t want you to feel like I expect anything from you.”

  “That’s just it! As my husband, you should expect things, and I shouldn’t have a problem giving them!”

  Gideon felt as if he were being split in two. The distress on her face, the earnestness told him she was being honest and putting him first. Problem was, he didn’t want that from her. He wanted her.

  More than anything, he wished he could tell her he understood, but he didn’t. “You’re making yourself sick over this. Let’s just try it, okay?”

  It took considerable effort not to let her see how badly he wanted her to agree.

  She wiped her eyes. “All right.”

  “All right.” Relief shot through him, but he didn’t understand why, because they hadn’t solved a damn thing. “I’ll move on out to the barn.”

  “At least stay in one of the guest rooms.”

  He shook his head.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” She bit her lip. “Why should you have to live with this hanging over you?”

  He wasn’t sure he could, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t ready to walk away from her. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “You agree to try this?”

  She nodded.

  With a hollow feeling in his chest, he gathered his clothes from the guest room they had shared and grabbed his bedroll. The torment in Ivy’s eyes ripped at his gut. This racking sense of helplessness had him wanting to slam his fist into a wall.

  Thunder tagged along with him to the barn, but when Gideon lay down on his bunk, she went to the barn door and sat. She stared at the house, whining, not understanding why the three of them weren’t together. He knew how she felt.

  After another minute of the dog’s whimpering, he snapped his fingers and she came to him, finally curling up beneath his bed and going to sleep.

  But Gideon didn’t sleep. Didn’t close his eyes once. Everything that had happened between him and Ivy looped through his mind.

  There were the dangerous things like the bear trap or when she’d been assaulted in the barn. But his memories veered toward the night on the porch when she’d come out to talk because she’d had a late reaction to nearly being injured or killed by that vicious trap. When she had confessed what had happened with Tom. When Gideon had laid himself bare by telling her about Eleanor and the stupidest decision he’d ever made.

  The way Ivy had given herself to him, both before and after the fire.

  By the time dawn broke, he was miserable. He couldn’t help his wife. She had to change. He couldn’t do it for her, and he couldn’t make her do it. He’d never felt so hog-tied in his life.

  Now he realized he couldn’t see her every day, go to the barn at night while she went to the bedroom, keep his distance from her. He wanted marriage and she didn’t. It was as simple, as gut-wrenching as that.

  He had to go. If he stayed, it would only make things more difficult for both of them.

  After packing his few belongings, he went up to the house. He stood in the doorway, watching her through the screen. Thunder sat at his feet, subdued as if she sensed something bad was about to happen.

  Ivy stood over the stove. She was pretty and fresh in a golden-pink dress that looked like one of the colors streaking the early-morning sky. He watched her graceful movements as she checked the biscuits, mixed bits of ham in with the scrambled eggs because he liked them that way, not her.

  The sun traced her curves, making her braid gleam like hot silk. He took in everything he could. The sensitive spot behind her ear, the gentle swirl of her skirts as she moved. The way her hair curled around her face when she stood over the heat of the stove.

  Every image he could corral went into his mind, greedily trapped for the coming days when he had gone weeks, years without seeing her. Touching her. He would remember it all. And that’s all he would have—memories.

  Maybe he should go in and eat, tell her of his decision gently, but that would only prolong the agony for both of them.

  “It’s not going to work,” he said baldly from the doorway. He cursed himself. He certainly could’ve given her the news less abruptly.

  She whirled. Her eyes were puffy, red from crying. He wondered if she’d gotten any sleep.

  “Ivy, I can’t stay.” The torment in her eyes grabbed him right in the heart, yet he forced himself to continue. “I want you as my wife, but I’m not going to pressure you to do that. My being here will only make you feel you owe me something. Something you may not want or be able to give.”

  He wanted to tell her she was the only woman he would ever love, but that might make her feel as if he expected the same words from her. So he left it unsaid.

  Was he making this harder for her? For both of them? He didn’t mean to, but dammit, it was hard. Walking away, giving her what she had asked for was as hard as trying to shovel sunshine.

  She looked pale. “What about the farm?”

  He frowned.

  “It’s half yours.”

  “I’ll deed it back to you.”

  “No! I want you to have it.”

  The words felt torn out of him. “It doesn’t make sense for me to keep it since I won’t be here.”

  “But it belongs to you now.”

  Even though he knew she might feel pressured by his next words, that she would take this as him drawing a line in the sand, he said it anyway. “If I don’t have you, I don’t want it.”

  Her eyes widened. There was no mistaking the sorrow in her eyes, the regret. For an instant, just a heartbeat, he thought she might change her mind and tell him she believed they could make it work. But the moment passed. Then another.

  His heart sank. The urge for one last kiss was overwhelming, but if he took it, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave.

  “You’ll hear from me about the farm.” He turned to go down the steps.

  “Wait.” />
  His heart stopped and he closed his eyes, every cell in his body straining for her next words.

  “Thunder should go with you.”

  Gideon felt like he’d taken a ten-pound hammer to the chest. “She’s becoming a good watchdog, and you need one.”

  “She’s more attached to you.”

  He glanced down. The pup stood between him and the door, clearly uncertain about whether she should follow him or go to Ivy.

  “Please, Gideon.” Her voice broke. “She belongs with you.”

  So do you. But he didn’t say the words. He snapped his fingers and the dog padded alongside him to the barn, looking back every few steps.

  He’d thought the worst day of his life had been the day he’d been chained and dragged from a wagon into Leavenworth. He’d been wrong.

  * * *

  Gideon had done exactly what she had asked. He had really gone. It was the right thing. Ivy just hadn’t expected to feel as if her skin were being peeled off.

  Silence hung heavy around her. Even the chickens weren’t squawking. Breakfast went cold. Finally, she made herself wrap up the biscuits and she threw the eggs out the back door for any animal that wanted them. Thunder wouldn’t be taking the scraps anymore.

  Dazed, Ivy went about her chores, finally closing the door to the room she had shared with Gideon because she couldn’t bring herself to strip the sheets yet. She checked her horse, and like Gideon had done, she drew a bucket of cold water from the river to soak the mare’s fetlock before wrapping it again.

  He wouldn’t really walk away from the farm, not when he’d wanted his own place for so long. He might not stay for her, on her terms, but Ivy didn’t believe he would really relinquish his claim.

  She was gathering eggs when she heard a horse gallop up to the house. Pulse stuttering, she placed the eggs in a basket with trembling hands. She’d known it! He couldn’t leave behind something he had worked half his life to have.

  Smoothing down her apron, she hurried up the side of the house and around to the front. The horse there wasn’t Gideon’s black gelding. It was a dun mare. Coy Farrell’s mare.