“No! Somebody, help me!”
Garrison whirled around and pulled a pistol from beneath his black coat. He pressed his cold palm over her mouth, cupping the back of her head with the hand that held the gun. “One more peep and I’ll shoot you right here. I’d rather you be dead than in the arms of that savage you call a husband.”
“Hello, Briggs,” Isabelle greeted, her long strides fluid and graceful. Stopping a mere foot away, she smiled warmly. “I heard about everything. I couldn’t imagine you out here all alone.”
“You heard? What did you hear?”
“George filed annulment papers at the courthouse this morning. I’m afraid Dodge has a distinct talent for spreading news of people’s personal affairs. We both can attest to that.”
He buried his hands in his coat pockets. “You came all the way out here by yourself? That wasn’t a wise thing to do—”
“Oh, hush. It was early in the day and I remembered enough not to lose my way.”
He remembered the last time she’d been here, and the way she had left….
“Still, it’s not exactly—”
“Not exactly what?” she challenged, in that melodic tone she used whenever she wanted her way. Funny, how he used to crumble into a hundred pieces over that voice.
She raised an eyebrow. “Appropriate? These days, I hardly think my reputation is worth protecting. I’ve been married and deserted, and now I’m going to be a mother.” She lowered her gaze. “A mother without a husband.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No one does. Not even my father.” She wandered toward her horse and stroked his muzzle. Briggs felt an odd sense of pity—something he hadn’t imagined he’d ever feel for Isabelle. She’d always gotten everything she’d ever wanted. Even at his expense.
“I’m sorry about all that,” he said, taking a step forward, then stopping himself.
“I know you are.” She turned to face him, masking any emotion with a smile. “But I didn’t come all the way out here to talk about me. You’re the one who needs a sympathetic shoulder today. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten.”
He gestured toward the barn. “No, I was just finishing up some chores—”
“Well, I have just the thing for a hungry man.” She reached for her saddlebag. “I brought enough sandwiches for an army, plus a bag of my own home-cooked sweets. I remember how much you loved my molasses cookies.”
He stood in the yard, staring. As much as he would like to believe she was just being kind, he knew she wanted something. Something he wasn’t, and would never be, prepared to give. He wondered how he was going to handle this. He gestured toward the house, and together they went inside.
Briggs set the bucket down in the dark dugout, accidentally kicking a chair as he moved toward the window to open the curtains. When he turned, Isabelle was still standing on the bottom step, looking around the one-room house.
While he knelt to light a fire in the stove, she moved all the way in and set her saddlebag on the table. “I see a definite improvement over the last time I was here. Sarah certainly branded the place.” She walked to the window. “What lovely curtains.” She rubbed the fabric together between her thumb and forefinger and noticed the dried flowers in the vase. “I’ll have to replace these first thing.”
Briggs’s stomach lurched.
“Yes, a new bouquet tomorrow,” Isabelle chirped.
Tomorrow. He hadn’t thought of that. Of course she was going to have to stay somewhere overnight. She couldn’t very well ride back to town in the dark. Maybe Howard and Martha would be kind enough to provide a bed for her.
Isabelle clasped her hands behind her back and wandered around the room, looking at everything. “Shall we dig into those sandwiches?” he asked, rising to his feet and wanting to put an end to the awkward evaluation.
“Oh, of course! Pardon me for snooping around. You must be famished.”
She laid the sandwiches in a decorative circle on a tin plate, and set it down on the table. Briggs sat down and began to eat immediately, thankful for a reason not to talk.
Afterward, Isabelle cleared away the empty plate and wiped the crumbs off the table, then began to make coffee. Within moments, its rich aroma filled the house, and Isabelle poured them both a cup. “So, I heard Sarah’s old beau came to take her back.”
Old beau. Obviously, the more degenerate parts of the story had somehow been concealed. “That’s right. The man came all the way from Boston.”
“They must have loved each other very much. I’m sorry, Briggs. You must know I can’t bear to think of the way we parted. Yet here we are, sitting together as friends. You’re not angry at me?”
Why, he wondered, did the conversation always come back to her? “Of course not.” Yet the truth of it was, he hadn’t given it much thought. It wasn’t so much a forgiveness. It was a gradual fading of anger, or more accurately, a growing indifference.
Isabelle sipped the last of her coffee. “You know, Briggs, it doesn’t have to be so painful for you. I could come back. We could finally have what we both wanted before things got so messed up. Since we’ve been apart—” she wiped a single tear from the corner of her eye “—I’ve missed you.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Briggs dutifully reached across the table and patted her hand.
“You’re so kind, Briggs. So caring. I was a fool to leave you. Zack was so unpredictable and so vulgar sometimes. He always wanted to be the center of everyone’s attention. But you were always calm and settled. I realize now that to be settled is exactly what I want.” She raised her lids to reveal blue eyes now drowning in tears. “You’re what I want.”
Briggs sat staring at her, his pulse pounding inside his head. Here she was. Isabelle. Returned to him. Every night for two full months after she’d left him, he’d lain awake wondering where she was, how she was, and hoping beyond hope that she was missing him, just a little.
He leaned back, watching her slowly rise from her chair. Reaching into her bag, she withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, then walked to the window. Briggs pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Even in the heat of this situation, as he faced the fulfillment of an old fantasy, he was thinking of Sarah.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he told her, approaching. “You’re strong, Isabelle. You’ll manage.”
“But must I manage it alone?” Her hand glided along his jaw and slid under his hair to cup his neck.
Then she rose up on her toes to kiss him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Briggs looked down at Isabelle, her eyes closed, her lips parting in their approach. Her mouth touched his, and what should have been heaven, felt like hell.
Hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her back down and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Isabelle.”
Her arched eyebrows came together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t be with you.”
“Why not? I’d stay this time. Zack can jump off a cliff for all I care—”
“It’s not about Zack.”
She stepped away.
“I did want you, Isabelle. Once. But I married someone else.”
“You may have gotten married, but everyone knew you’d placed an ad. You just married her to get over me.” The sparkle in her eyes died, as if she suddenly realized she’d said the wrong thing.
Briggs hated this. “Maybe at the time I did it to get over you, but I care for Sarah now.”
“But you annulled the marriage. Why did you do that if you loved her? I thought you did it because I was free again.”
He backed away from her. “I made a mistake. I never should have signed those papers.”
All at once, Briggs knew what he wanted, and this time, he would get it.
Isabelle began to gather her things. “Zack will come back for me, you know.”
“I know. I’ll drive you back to town.”
“I should hope so.”
Briggs dropped Isa
belle off at her father’s house later that night. It had been a long drive through the darkness. They had both felt the chill of autumn on their cheeks and hands, and Isabelle seemed more than thankful to be returned to civilization.
Briggs returned her horse to the livery, all the while feeling rushed, as if he were running from a fire someone had lit behind him. He had to find Sarah and apologize. A silent prayer rose up inside him—a prayer that she would forgive him, that she might give him another chance.
He pulled up in front of George’s house, set the brake on the wagon, and glanced up at the bedroom window. A fluttering of butterflies erupted in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to see Sarah, to hear her voice, to smell the rosewater he’d come to associate with only her.
Dear Lord, let her be here, and let her hear me out.
He hopped down and raced up the porch steps. Without hesitation, he reached for the copper door handle, but the door opened wide before he could touch it. He looked up. George was standing there, his face flushed with anger.
“What’s wrong with you?” Briggs asked.
George didn’t answer. Instead, he took a step forward, hauled back his fist, and punched Briggs in the nose.
Pain spread through his cheeks like wildfire. “What the hell did you do that for?”
George turned away and strode back into the kitchen. Briggs followed, realizing with shock that his brother had never hit him in all their lives. He’d never had reason to, Briggs supposed.
He walked into the kitchen. “You gonna tell me what the problem is?”
George sat down, his face suddenly pale.
“Don’t worry,” Briggs said. “I’m not going to return the sentiment. I grew out of fistfights a while back. I’d rather you tell me what this is about.”
George flung a piece of paper toward him. “It’s about this.”
With one hand cupped over his nose, Briggs used the other to pick up the paper.
“It’s a telegram from a colleague in Massachusetts,” George said. “I wanted to be certain that I’d done the best thing for you with that annulment. So this morning, I wired him and asked him to look into your little legal problem.”
Briggs read the telegram. “When did you get this?”
“About an hour ago. It seems Sarah was telling the truth all along.”
“I already know that, George.”
“Well you don’t know this—Garrison is wanted in three different states. Not just for bigamy. For polygamy, under a number of different names. Sarah was wife number four, poor thing, and she had no idea.”
Briggs sank into a chair.
“Sarah tried to do the right thing,” George said. “She tried to work things out with you, but you just assumed she was lying from the beginning, and I let you talk me into it.”
Feeling sick, Briggs dropped the paper onto the table. “You don’t have to tell me I was wrong. I know that. Where is she? Can I talk to her?”
George stood, giving Briggs a glare that could stop a stampede in midtrample. “I’m afraid you’re a little late.”
“I know you already filed the annulment papers,” Briggs said impatiently. “That doesn’t matter. I just want to see her. Talk to her. We’ll straighten the other stuff out later.”
George leaned back against the dry sink and crossed one ankle over the other. “If I wasn’t such a rational person, I’d think you wanted me to punch you again.”
“Why?” Briggs was speechless. George had never acted like this before.
“How the hell did you know I filed the papers? Did a little bird tell you?”
Briggs stood, letting his hand come away from his throbbing nose. “I can explain that—”
“I’m sure you can. Everyone in town knew Isabelle was riding out to see you. She told the widow Harper that you two were finally going to be together, and no one tells the widow anything they don’t want spread all over town by noon.”
“What are you saying?”
“I tried to find Sarah after I got the telegram. I was going to bring her out to you. But I found out she’d ordered a buggy to go see you herself, then changed her mind when she heard about Isabelle. She just disappeared. The train master told me she got on the train to Caldwell. I’m sorry, Briggs. I did everything I could, but she left town tonight.”
Briggs couldn’t accept that. He just couldn’t. “Was Garrison with her?”
“I don’t know. The train master said a lot of men got on.”
“I’m going after that train, George. Right after I report Garrison to the city marshal.”
Briggs and George hurried to the wagon. There wasn’t much time. Once they turned Garrison in, they would ride to Caldwell, but there was no guarantee they would get there before the train did.
They pulled up in front of the city clerk’s office and Briggs hopped down. “You wait here, George.”
“Are you joking? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
They knocked once on the door before entering. Marshal Peavy sat behind his desk, his long legs stretched out on the top. “Evening, George. Briggs. What can I do for you?”
“You know that fella who came up from Boston?” Briggs said. “You might want to arrest him.”
The marshal lowered his legs to the floor and leaned forward. “You mean the fellow who came to fetch your wife? I heard all about it, Briggs. You have my sympathies. She was a beautiful woman. You don’t have much luck in love, do you, son?”
“No, sir, but forget about that,” Briggs said irritably. “George has a telegram from a colleague in Massachusetts, and he says Garrison McPhee is wanted for polygamy in three states.”
“Polygamy, eh? Federal offense, if I’m not mistaken.”
George moved forward. “That’s right, Marshal, and Briggs’s wife, Sarah, reported it to me.”
The marshal eyed Briggs carefully. “Didn’t I hear from old widow Harper that you got an annulment today?”
“Yes, sir, and you may have heard something along the lines of me taking Isabelle back, but that’s just as tall a tale as you’re likely to hear around these parts.”
Briggs and George looked at each other. George nodded in encouragement.
“My wife was one of Garrison’s wives, sir,” Briggs said. “But she didn’t know he’d been married before. She was completely taken in.”
George added, “All the women were, as I understand it.”
Marshal Peavy shook his head. “Terrible thing. Your wife must be beside herself.” He rose and fastened his gun belt around his hips.
“Do you think you’ll need that?” Briggs asked.
The marshal donned his black Stetson. “You can never be too sure of anything around here. Do you know where this man is?”
“He’s been staying at the Great Western Hotel,” Briggs answered.
The marshal checked his gun for bullets and clicked it shut. “Let’s go give these ladies some justice.”
Briggs and George accompanied the marshal into the dark street and they walked side by side to the hotel. Garrison was finally going to get what he deserved—and Sarah, too. This would clear her of any wrongdoing, and she would be free—free to marry again if Briggs got what he wanted.
They approached the front desk clerk. “Evening, Marshal,” the man greeted, closing his register book.
“Evening. I hear you have a guest here by the name of Garrison McPhee.”
“Garrison McPhee…” He opened the book, running a long, crooked finger down the last few pages. “I’m sorry. He checked out this afternoon.”
“What!” Briggs exclaimed.
“He checked out,” the clerk repeated, uneasily. “He was planning to catch the evening train.”
George laid his hand on Briggs’s shoulder. “You mean the one to Caldwell?”
“I believe. Said he was going to be with his wife.”
“Hell,” Briggs uttered. He whirled around to face George.
“She didn’t say she was going back to him, Briggs. By wha
t she said last night, she despised him more than ever.”
The marshal removed his hat. “What are you two going on about?”
George turned his gaze to the marshal. “I believe Sarah got on the same train as McPhee this evening.”
Marshal Peavy scratched under his beard. “Maybe she changed her mind about him.”
A tremor of rage shook Briggs. “You’re wrong, Marshal. If she’s with him, it’s not willingly.”
“You talking about kidnapping?”
“Yes, sir.” Briggs turned on his heel to leave. Sarah would never go back to Garrison, he told himself. No matter how devastated she was. This time, Briggs had to trust her. He only hoped she wasn’t in danger.
He slammed the door of the hotel and raced down the steps, two at a time, crossed the road and climbed into the wagon.
“Briggs, wait!” George called, running after him.
“I don’t have time to wait. I have to get to Caldwell before that train does.”
The marshal approached. “You ain’t gonna make it in that old box.”
Briggs swallowed, refusing to give up. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“Why don’t you borrow my deputy’s horse? I’ll take mine. I’ll ride with you to Caldwell and take McPhee into custody.”
“You can’t leave me behind,” George said. “I’ll get my horse from home.”
“Hurry up, then. We’re wasting time.”
Chapter Thirty
It seemed she had come full circle. One month ago Sarah had sat expectantly in her seat watching the Kansas countryside pass by outside the train window, wondering what her new life would be like. Now she was doing the same, only this time—this time, her worst fear had become a reality.
Drained of tears and fighting the harsh pain in her arm, she turned to look at Garrison beside her. She must pull herself together and be brave. She had to find a way out of this mess and return to Dodge to tell Briggs about the baby. She couldn’t lose hope. Even if he was with Isabelle.
Julianne MacLean Page 22