Becoming Miss Becky

by Shannon Stacey

Chapter Fourteen

  Becky watched Lucas Kilraine and his men ride out of Gardiner from Fiona’s upstairs window, which faced the main street.

  Adam leaned against the post of the livery stable, one hand rested on his gun. She could see Will Martinson and Johnny Barnes just down a ways, both of them ready to back up the sheriff.

  She pressed her palms to the glass, whispering fervent prayers over and over that Lucas wouldn’t stop and try to shoot his way to her. If anybody got hurt, she’d never forgive herself.

  If Adam was shot…well, she couldn’t even think about that.

  It seemed forever before the dust settled behind Lucas’s group and the town started going about its business once again. She held her breath as Adam looked over toward the Coop.

  When he found her in the window, he tipped his hat back so she could see his face and gave her a short nod.

  Tears spilled over her lashes and she wondered what he would do if she ran out there and threw herself in his arms. She wished she had the courage to find out, but on top of everything else that day, having Adam turn a cold shoulder to her might be the ruin of her.

  Still watching her in the window, Adam stepped out into the street and for one breathless moment it seemed he would come to her.

  But Will Martinson called to him and he turned. The two men fell into a conversation and disappeared into the livery. Becky dashed away her tears and went to reassure the chickens everything was all right.

  Two days later, the image of Adam stepping toward the Coop hadn’t stopped haunting her. What was he going to say? Would he have simply assured her he’d dealt with Lucas Kilraine or would it have been more personal?

  At night, while she lay in the big, lonely bed, she imagined him pulling her into his embrace and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, then telling her the thought of Lucas taking her away had opened his eyes to how much she meant to him.

  In the harsh light of day she thought it more likely he was going to lecture her on lying and stealing and keeping secrets from him. But there had been something in his eyes…

  No matter what he’d intended to say to her, Becky couldn’t stop thinking of what she would have said to him.

  I love you.

  Three simple words, but the awareness of them—the awareness of wanting to say them to Adam—seemed to have pulled her feet out from under her, and she couldn’t set herself right again.

  She had a vague memory of her mother saying those words to her, but love was not an emotion encouraged in the Hamilton household after her death, nor had it ever been expressed.

  But at some point—and she couldn’t even pinpoint when—she had fallen in love with Adam Caldwell.

  “Miss Becky?”

  Startled, she dropped the page of figures she’d been blankly staring at for who knew how long. “Holly, I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I was just getting an apple, but you look awful sad. When I’m sad Fiona gives me a hug and I feel better. So I thought…I…do you need a hug?”

  Becky stood and let herself be wrapped in Holly’s tentative embrace, and she did feel better.

  “If you want to go off and marry Sheriff Caldwell, we’ll be all right, you know,” Holly said when the hug was over. “Even if you sell the Coop we can get by.”

  The honest and heartfelt generosity was so overwhelming Becky had to sink down into her chair again. The fact this woman would offer up the only happiness and security she’d ever known for Becky’s happiness humbled her and tears welled up in her eyes.

  “I won’t sell the Coop, Holly. I won’t ever leave you to fend for yourselves, I promise you that.”

  “So maybe Fiona could run the house if you want to go get married if you help with the accounts like Mrs. Martinson used to do. And if you married Sheriff Caldwell, you wouldn’t be far away. I was a little sad when Sadie got married, but she comes to visit us regular. You could do that, too.”

  “I could.” Becky sighed and swiped at her cheeks. “But there’s more standing between the sheriff and me than the Chicken Coop.”

  “I ain’t found a whole lot of love in this world, Miss Becky,” Holly told her, her lower lip trembling. “If you can find yourself some, you best grab it and hold onto it with everything you got.”

  She gave Becky a shaky smile, grabbed an apple and left the kitchen before she could respond.

  And just like that, Becky knew what she wanted in her life. She wanted Adam Caldwell, and all the sparkling clothes and exotic feathers in the world wouldn’t make her happy without him.

  She closed the account ledgers and walked to her bedroom, knowing that, while her decision might bruise her heart a little, it was the only way to keep it whole. She sat in front of the vanity and took a deep breath.

  With trembling fingers she smeared cold cream across her tear-stained cheeks. Her lips, her eyes. With each swipe of the cloth, a little more of her face seemed to fade away.

  When her face was as pale and clean as a baby’s, Becky went to her wardrobe and pulled out the gray dress she’d been wearing when she arrived in Gardiner. At the time she’d considered it her best. Now she considered it dull and ugly, and the large cameo she pinned at her throat did little to help. The fabric was stiff and suffocating.

  She saved her hair for last. After brushing it back until it was all gathered in her hand, she gave it a vicious twist and then started winding it, pinning it as she went. She kept her eyes closed, not only because she could do her hair by touch, but to keep the tears at bay.

  When she was done, she took a deep, steadying breath and opened her eyes. There, looking back at her, was the drab, boring woman named Rebecca Hamilton.

  “Goodbye, Miss Becky,” she whispered. A few tears escaped, but she didn’t mind them. She was allowed a few moments to grieve.

  But only a few because she didn’t want to go to Adam looking as if she were going to a funeral. While Miss Becky might be gone, there was still hope for a future as Mrs. Adam Caldwell.

  If it wasn’t too late.

  She’d hoped to make her exit unnoticed, but Fiona spotted her before she reached the front door.

  “Oh, gosh, Miss Becky! Did somebody die?”

  Only a little on the inside. “No. I’m going to pay a call on Sheriff Caldwell.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened. “Is this about what I said the other day, because—”

  “It’s not,” Becky interrupted. “I love being here with you, but I love Adam, too, and he can’t be with me here. I won’t just abandon you, though. The Coop is your home.”

  “Can you be happy like…” She waved a hand at the changes in Becky’s appearance.

  “I don’t know. But I know I won’t be happy without Adam, so I have to take the chance.”

  Before Fiona could say anything that might weaken her resolve, Becky walked to the door and stepped outside the Coop. She’d try his office first, and hopefully have figured out the right words to say before she arrived.

  So intent was she on her destination, she didn’t hear the running horses until it was too late.

  Adam paused outside the bunkhouse of the Rocking-S ranch and flexed his fingers. Though word had reached him about Pete Brewster getting a little rough with one of the chickens, the situation with Lucas Kilraine had kept him in town.

  But all had been quiet for a couple of days so, after a word with Will, he’d saddled up and ridden out of town to have a little chat with Pete.

  The Rocking-S was a good outfit manned by decent men, so Adam didn’t worry about stepping into the building and looking around until he found the man sitting on his bunk, whittling. “Hey, Pete, you want to step outside with me? Won’t take but a minute.”

  The cowhand swallowed hard, but stood and stomped his feet into his boots. He waited until they were out in the yard to speak. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. I was in a bad temper that day, but I sorely regret taking it out on Betty. Look, I’m even carving her a flower to apologize with. It ain’t much, but I thought me making it mi
ght mean something to her that I worked at it.”

  Adam looked at the misshapen stick in the man’s hand and had to fight not to smile at his misery. Pete seemed genuinely sorry. “I understand Fiona charged you extra for restitution.”

  “Yes, she did. And I would have paid it even if she hadn’t shoved the end of that shotgun up against my pecker.”

  That sounded like Fiona. “Just so you know, if you ever hit one of those women again, I’ll be the one collecting restitution, and I’ll take it out of your hide.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Adam considered the matter closed and sent Pete back to his whittling. At the rate he was going on it, he’d have aching balls by the time he could bring it to the Coop and get back in Betty’s good graces.

  Heading back across the yard, he lifted his head at the sound of an approaching horse. Somebody was riding hell-bent for him, and his hand went reflexively to his gun.

  “Sheriff!” It was Billy Seymour, the printer’s son, and he was barely managing to keep his scrawny butt in the saddle. “Sheriff!”

  He waved to let the kid know he’d heard him and stepped forward to greet him. Billy sawed back on the reins hard enough to make Adam wince and practically fell off the horse when it came to a stop.

  “They took Miss Becky!”

  Something rocked the earth under Adam’s feet. It stole his breath and made his innards tremor. It took him a second to place the feeling—it was fear. Fear the likes of which he’d never felt before.

  “Doc and them, they’re going after the guys who took her, but Doc said you’d better get. They’re heading north and Doc said something about a preacher up in San Antone that’ll do anything for money.”

  Adam was already running toward Guapo and when he launched himself into the saddle, the horse was ready to run. They lit out in the direction of town like the devil himself was on their heels.

  If Kilraine found some unscrupulous preacher willing to marry Rebecca to him over her protests, he’d have no more need of her. All he needed was the documentation of the ceremony.

  The man certainly wasn’t going to bring a hellion in whore’s clothing back to Massachusetts and introduce her as Mrs. Kilraine. His best bet would be to kill her and spin a yarn about her tragically succumbing to fever or some such common ailment during their journey.

  He shouldn’t have left town. He shouldn’t have let her out of his sight. Or out of his arms. He never should have let her go. Now he had to get her back.

  He leaned low over the horse’s neck. “Run, you beautiful son of a bitch.”

  Guapo ran. They didn’t even slow up as they entered town, thundered down the main street and left out the other end. He had to catch Kilraine and his men before they reached their destination.

  A couple of miles out of town he saw the dust cloud in front of him, but figured, correctly, it was the posse from town. They were keeping a quick pace, but preserving their horses for the long haul.

  Adam came up beside them at full gallop and was ready when Will tossed a rifle out to him. He caught it and the pouch of ammunition the doctor had lashed to it without Guapo breaking stride and within minutes had left them behind.

  It seemed forever before he saw the second dust cloud lingering on the horizon. Rebecca.

  Guapo pushed forward, his head low, and Adam’s chest constricted. The horse had carried him through the flaming hell of the falling Confederacy and never once faltered. Now Adam feared he would. He was asking everything of him. And he knew Guapo would give it.

  “Just a little more,” he whispered to his horse, praying it wasn’t just a little too much.

  Becky’s fury burned in her stomach like homemade dandelion wine.

  She wanted to scream and scratch her captor’s eyes out. She could throw herself off the horse and try to run, but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe she would escape them. Instead she reached up and, pretending to be overwrought, unpinned the cameo and tucked it into her hand. Then she waited.

  Adam would come for her. And when he did these men would die.

  She knew what he was capable of. The night Johnson held a knife to her throat, he’d shown her just how cold and lethal he could be. Somehow she suspected these men would be shown even less mercy, if such a thing was possible.

  Unfortunately Lucas Kilraine wouldn’t die with them. Though she had no doubt the men who’d stolen her worked for him, he apparently hadn’t deigned to dirty his hands with this day’s work. He’d sent hired thugs to kidnap her while he waited…where?

  He couldn’t take her home. No matter how desperate Lucas was for her father’s money, he was smart enough to know he’d never get her on a train, back to Springfield and into a church. He was going to try to wed her here in an uncivilized place with witnesses bought and paid for. And then he wouldn’t need her anymore.

  Time and miles seemed to fly by in a haze of pounding hooves and mindless fear, but finally one of the riders near her looked over his shoulder and shouted a warning.

  She twisted in her captor’s arms and saw the dust cloud exploding from the horizon. At its center was Guapo, his head low as his hooves churned the earth. On his back, Adam swung the rifle up and Becky seized the moment.

  She drove the cameo pin into the tender part of her captor’s thigh and then threw herself hard to the right as he screamed. The ground rushed to meet her and drove the air from her lungs.

  Hell broke wide open over her head and Becky started to crawl. The gunshots rang as loud as thunder, drowning out all sound but her own heartbeat pounding through her ears.

  She pulled her hand back in time to keep it from being crushed by a horse as one of the men—the one who had dragged her off the street—broke away from the others to flee. Turning her head just in time to see Adam throw himself off Guapo, she registered the others were all dead.

  Adam dropped to the dirt next to her. “Are you hurt?”

  The shock of such violence had clogged her throat, and she shook her head.

  He pulled her upright. “No, you talk to me, goddammit. Are you hurt?”

  “No, I…I’m fine.”

  “The others are coming. Stay here.” He vaulted onto the back of a horse whose rider lay dead in the dirt and take off after the one who’d gotten away.

  As Becky turned away from the bodies, Guapo staggered. The horse was trembling, and lather coated his gray coat. His chest seemed to hitch and his head hung so low, she couldn’t see his eyes.

  The realization of how this wretched-looking horse had suffered to bring Adam to her broke her heart.

  Becky tried desperately to remember everything she’d ever heard about horses, but they hadn’t ever been a part of her daily life. Then she thought about the few races she’d been allowed to attend with her father. They’d always walked the horses after they’d run.

  She reached up under her skirt and pulled down one of the flouncy petticoats, then reached for Guapo’s reins. As she led him in a wide but slowly-drawn circle, she used the garment to wipe the wetness from his coat.

  It seemed forever before another, larger cloud of dust appeared and, even though she was expecting them, she didn’t breathe until she recognized the faces of men she knew.

  Becky pointed in the direction Adam had gone and half the men veered off without even slowing, Will in the lead. The others stopped and Johnny Barnes took the reins from her hands.

  “I’ll see to him, Miss Becky,” he said. “You go get a drink and rest a spell.”

  Becky drank deeply from a canteen offered her, still trying to keep her gaze averted from the bodies of her abductors. The men from town tried to shield her, to comfort her and distract her. She only wanted Adam.

  She hadn’t had the chance to tell him she loved him.

  Finally the riders returned and he was stalking toward her, over six feet of grim death. It was in his eyes. It stained his hands.

  His long strides ate up the distance between them, his intense gaze never releasing hers. She gasped whe
n he reached her and hauled her off her feet, wrapping her in a crushing embrace.

  “I’m all right,” she whispered, but his body shuddered and one hand fisted in her hair. “I’m all right, Adam.”

  “You are mine,” he growled.

  And despite the horrors of the day, Becky smiled against his neck.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adam simmered throughout the long, slow ride back to town.

  They’d tied the dead over the saddles of their horses, save for one, which he and Rebecca were riding. They could have doubled up the bodies and given her her own mount, but he liked her right in front of him where he could hold her and keep assuring himself she was all right.

  They made the journey back at a walk for Guapo’s sake. Johnny Barnes was optimistic the horse would recover fully, but right now they wouldn’t risk even a slow trot. He owed his life to that horse a few times over, and now he owed him Rebecca’s life as well.

  Night was falling by the time they arrived back in Gardiner and, after ensuring that Johnny Barnes would put Guapo up properly, Adam rode straight for the sheriff’s office. He set Rebecca down, then dismounted and practically dragged her inside.

  Will tried to follow, but Adam closed the door in his face and dropped the bar across it. Then he closed and locked the wooden shutter over the front-facing window.

  “Adam, what are—”

  He pulled Rebecca into his arms and kissed her as though he was dying in the desert and kissing her was the only thing that could quench his thirst. When she threaded her fingers into his hair and gave a hungry moan, he backed her up against his desk and pulled up her skirt.

  She let go of his hair to hold the bunched up fabric while he lifted her onto the edge of the desk and stepped between her thighs. It took him a second to find the slit in her drawers, and he entered her with a groan.

  Rebecca put her palms flat on the desk to steady herself, then wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

  It wasn’t enough. Sliding his hands under her back, he lifted her and turned to press her back to the wall, his hands protecting her shoulder blades from the wood. He kissed her again, savoring the feel of her breasts against his chest, the sweet friction as his cock slid within her channel.