by Linda Broday
“No, you won’t. You’ll want to, but you won’t because you love her too much and her happiness will be the most important thing to you.”
Dr. Mary swung to him. “Luke, you’d best come. I don’t know how much longer Josie has.”
Tally took the baby and watched him stumble to the bed, his holster catching on the back of the chair. Wearing gun belt, boots, and all, he lay on top of the covers and gently took Josie in his arms.
Violet looked up from the floor where she sat playing. “Mama, what’s wrong?”
“Josie’s just very sick. How about we go outside and see what your daddy’s doing?” She took Violet’s hand.
“Okay. And I want to visit my friend Montana too. I’ll bet he misses me.”
“Oh, honey, I know he does.”
They stepped out into the bright sunshine and the bustle of the men working, trying to build something lasting. Only for what? Would people ever really want to live here, where death rode the wind?
They walked up to the garden. Violet loved touching the things that grew. Crushing pain hit, so severe it doubled Tally over. She let out a cry, gripping her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see.
“What is it, Mama?” Violet patted her arm. “What’s wrong?”
When Tally didn’t answer, Violet called out, panic in her voice. “Mama?”
Still unable to speak, Tally sat down and pulled Violet onto her lap. They sat there until the shooting streaks subsided.
Violet had tears in her voice. “Mama?”
“I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m right here. It was just a pain. Nothing to worry about.”
“It sounded real bad.”
Tally forced a laugh and tickled Violet. “I’m fine.”
After checking to see if there was a change in Josie, Tally spent part of the afternoon with her daughter, loving the sound of her laughter. While Violet explained to Montana all about Cinderella, the prince, and the wicked stepsisters, Tally went in search of Rebel. She found her tucked into a hollowed-out place in the canyon wall near the windmill. The woman stared into space with unseeing eyes.
“Rebel, are you all right?” Tally moved closer and crawled up beside her.
Rebel’s eyes were red and swollen, but she wasn’t crying. “Sorry. I just couldn’t handle watching that sweet little darling clinging to life. You know?”
“Yeah, I know.” Tally reached for Rebel’s hand. “It’s hard and she reminds you too much of what you lost. No one thinks ill of you.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t waste one minute of sympathy.”
“There’s one thing you need to know about the people here. We’ve all seen hard times, and each one of us has had to do unspeakable, horrible things to survive. So we don’t judge. As Ridge Steele says, that’s not our job. Our job is staying alive.”
The comforting creak of the windmill filled the silence that followed. Tally closed her eyes to soak up the peace its music brought.
“Sometimes I wish I was dead,” Rebel whispered.
“Don’t ever wish that, Rebel Avery.” Tally grabbed her shoulders and gave them a good shake. “They’ll lay each of us in the ground all too soon, so we need to keep living our hardest and making our time count. Don’t you think Josie would love to have more days, weeks, months with Luke and that baby?”
Rebel jerked away. “What good is time? I have no one, nothing.”
“Then just go and wallow in self-pity. You’ll find yourself cold and alone.” Without another word, Tally stalked back toward the dugout to check on Josie. The pounding of the hammers of men building the town accompanied her like a trained animal.
* * *
They continued with the poultices around the clock, desperately working to save Josie. At the close of the next day, Tally was spending some much needed hug time with Violet when she saw Dr. Mary standing outside the dugout, puffing away on a cigar. But the big smile on her face was what caught her attention.
“What are you happy about, Doctor? Tell me it’s good news!”
“The miracle of life, Tally. Josie woke up and her bleeding is slowing. The herbs and pressure on the arteries worked.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in but they finally reached Tally’s brain. “Josie will live?”
“She has a fighting chance now.” Dr. Mary shifted her cigar. “I think she just needed Luke beside her. It’s odd, the connection those two have. I see it in you and Clay, too.”
“It’s the power of love, Dr. Mary, but I don’t know about me and Clay. You see, we married as strangers and we’re still getting acquainted.” Tally touched the diamond tattoo on her cheek. Maybe one day they would share that sort of love. After her wounds healed. “I hope in time we can come to love each other—for Violet’s sake, if nothing else.”
“I have only to look at you both to see what you cannot.” Dr. Mary’s gaze pierced her. “Do you mind if I take a closer look at that mark on your face?”
“I don’t mind.”
Dr. Mary put her cigar out and stuck the stub in her pocket. She touched the tattoo and peered at it intently for what seemed an eternity. Finally, she spoke. “Unless I miss my guess, this is a tracking mark.”
“I’m wanted.” Tally stepped back, holding her head at a defiant angle. “The overseer at the Creedmore Lunatic Asylum put it on here so I’d be easier to find. I escaped, and they have a reward out for me. But I’m not crazy, and I’m never going back there. They’ll have to kill me.”
“I can see you’re as sane as I am.” Sympathy shone in Dr. Mary’s hazel eyes. “Would you like the mark to disappear?”
Would that be possible? If so, it would free all the women hiding in Deliverance Canyon. They could go wherever they wanted, without the tattoos to identify them.
Excitement washed over Tally but she tamped it down, not letting her features reveal the hope burgeoning inside. “Do you know of a way to take the tattoo off?”
“I’d have to do some reading first, but maybe. I saw a doctor at the hospital where I trained remove a small one about the same size of yours with some success.” The doctor’s strange necklace rattled when she reached into her pocket, drew out the cold cigar stub, and stuck it in her mouth. Fumbling for a match, she lit it. “Filthy habit. I’ve tried to stop but always end up going back.” Smoke curled around Dr. Mary’s head. “We’ve had a hard time of it with Josie.”
“You’ve earned a smoke, Doctor. About the tattoo—what would we need, and will it be painful?”
“I won’t lie—the pain will be severe. And there are no guarantees it will work. It could leave you with a scar.”
“I’m no stranger to pain. Or scars. I want to try it, no matter the outcome. And if it works, I’ll bring all the other women like me here, so you can remove theirs also.” Tally wasn’t sure if they would all welcome the procedure, mind. The agony would be a deciding factor, and a few of the women had already suffered every last ounce they could bear.
And if it didn’t work? Tally didn’t figure she’d lose anything.
“How many of you are there?” Dr. Mary’s question was gentle.
“Fifteen.” It broke Tally’s heart that so many had never made it outside Creedmore’s walls. She had a score to settle with Slade Tarver, Pollard Finch, and Jacob Abram. But mostly Slade. She itched to put a bullet between the eyes of the man who’d cost her the most.
One day…someway…she’d see him dead. And dear stepmother Lucinda too.
“I’ll have to send for silver nitrate and tannic acid. The rest of what I need I can make here.” The kindly doctor’s skirt swished as she walked with Tally. “I don’t know that I could’ve survived what you had to endure. You’re very brave. Even the best of those places are pure hell.”
“I didn’t do anything—except refuse to die.”
“That’s just
it. So many would’ve given up.”
“You give me far too much credit. I simply lived one minute at a time.”
The door opened and Luke emerged, a load visibly lifted from his broad shoulders. Although he didn’t smile, the deep worry had vanished. “They’re both resting peacefully. Thank you, Doctor. If I paid you all the money in all the banks, it would never be enough.”
“I don’t want your money, Luke. I’m glad my—our—efforts paid off. It took all of us.” The bullets on Dr. Mary’s necklace clinked together as she went inside, reminding Tally of the frailty of life.
In this untamed land, a body never knew what the next moment would bring. She glanced over at the working men. The sound of their hammers was a constant during the daylight, ceasing only when darkness stole over them. They built for a bright tomorrow, dreaming of a time when this would be a bustling town that brimmed with businesses and people.
“Move forward instead of back,” she whispered. But how, when men wanted her dead?
Clay climbed from a ladder and strode toward her, his Remington in the holster tied to his leg by a narrow leather strip. At that sight, Tally realized she hadn’t worn her gun in a number of days. Until lately, she’d never been without it. She was getting much too comfortable here. Her hand flew to her mouth.
Slade was out there somewhere, waiting for her to make a mistake. Waiting to grab her. She had to stay focused—not only for herself but for Violet as well.
“Hey there, pretty lady.” Clay reached her and pulled her into the circle of his arms. “I saw the doctor taking a break and sense some news. How are the patients?”
Her gaze followed Luke as he reached for the coffee sitting in the coals of the fire. She pushed aside her worry and smiled. “Josie woke up. Not out of the woods yet, but on her way.”
“And the babe?”
“Holding her own.”
“Hallelujah!” Clay lifted her up and swung her around.
“Put me down. Everyone’s looking.”
“Let them.” He slid her slowly down his long frame, his dark eyes smoldering.
Her heart raced and her breath hitched as she met the heat building in his stare. This tall, rugged outlaw, who’d taken a chance on her, sent warm tingles up her spine. His eyes were making downright sinful promises.
A sudden realization shook her. She loved him. She loved this man who’d given her so much.
His lips found hers, and the moment they touched, thoughts of everyone except him vanished. Her heart hammered against her ribs and heady need spiraled through her, spinning and tumbling.
But this was broad daylight, with everyone moving about.
“I want you, lady,” he murmured against her mouth.
Tally quivered with desire as she leaned into the strength and safety of his arms, burying her face in the hollow of his throat. “All the men are staring.”
“They’re only jealous.”
Finally, Tally stepped from the circle of warmth. “We can’t do this now, and you know it. Whatever will Violet think of her mama and papa?”
“Violet can’t see us, and besides, she’d be thrilled that we’re not fighting.”
“You’re hopeless, Clay Colby.” Tally slid her arms around him, relishing the rippling muscles of his back, his trim waist, the hope he put in her heart.
“Maybe so, but I know what I want and that’s you.” He tweaked her nose. “We can’t have our bed back yet, but maybe we can sleep together tonight. Can we?”
“I’ll find out, but I’m sure I won’t be needed.” Goose bumps prickled her skin at the thought of lying next to Clay, listening to his soft breathing, snuggling into the curves of his hard body. Her breath caught. “Where will we sleep?”
He nibbled her neck. “I have a good spot already picked out.”
“Oh, you do?” Tally grinned.
“Yes, ma’am. For a fact.” Clay nuzzled behind her ear. “I’m going to curl your toes, whisper sinful things in your ear, and make you beg for mercy.”
“Goodness.” Tally traced the line of his lips with a fingertip. “Then I suppose I just need to pray for nightfall.” She hoped it hurried.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as the scent of sagebrush and leather drugged her senses.
With the moon shining high overhead, she’d show him tonight how much she loved being his wife.
Twenty-three
That night Clay made them a bed of hay in their half-finished house and scattered wildflowers all around. With a dozen lit candles adding a soft touch, he went to find Tally. She’d just tucked Violet into bed in Tobias and Belle’s tent.
He’d already given the men orders not to come near the framed-in house, or they’d find a loaded gun in their face. This was his and Tally’s private time and the men had best respect it.
Tally gave a little cry the moment she saw what he’d prepared. “Clay, this is so romantic and sweet.” She rested her palms on his leather vest. “You constantly surprise me.”
“That’s my plan.” His voice became hoarse, raspy. “I don’t want you to get tired of me, because I happen to like having you around. In case you haven’t noticed, I like it a whole lot.”
“Funny, I was thinking earlier how content I am being here.” Tally glanced up. “The stars seem so close tonight. It’s almost as though I can reach up and pluck one.” She snuggled into the curve of his arm. “Do you know how rarely I felt this secure before I came here?”
Clay tightened his hold. Although he suspected the answer, he wanted to hear her to say it. “No, how often?”
“Not once. I used to live in constant fear, afraid to let deep sleep claim me, or I wouldn’t hear trouble coming. I’d be up a dozen times a night, checking on the ladies, listening to every noise, sniffing the wind.” She shifted and glanced up at him. “Now I don’t have to. But I still worry about my friends and I wonder if Hester’s leg is all right.”
“If they weren’t, I’m sure Alice or one of them would be back.”
“It’s just hard letting go of the need to protect them.” She trailed a finger down his jaw. “Clay, Dr. Mary told me that she might know a way to remove these tattoos from our faces. How would you feel if I didn’t have it anymore?”
A jolt of surprise swept through him. He didn’t know it was even possible. The scent of wild sage, yucca, and the wildflowers that lined a path to their bed drifted on the breeze. The hoot of a nearby owl added serenity to the night.
“Honestly, I never see that mark. All I see is the dream and hope in your eyes. Will the removal hurt?”
“Yes, so I’m told.”
“Then don’t. I’m not sure I can stand to see you in pain, darlin’. You’ve been through far too much already.” He inhaled, letting the fragrance of her hair engulf his senses. “On the other hand, without the tattoo to identify you, you’ll have more freedom to come and go. That mark keeps you a prisoner here. If you want this, I’m right beside you.” Clay’s hand curved below the softness of her breast as he kissed her tilted mouth.
Suddenly, all talk of tattoos and escapees from Creedmore melted away, leaving only heated passion and a need that left him shaking.
Clay undressed her, lightly caressing each patch of exposed skin, watching goose bumps rise. When he’d bared her, he laid her on the bed of hay and quickly shed his gun belt, boots, and clothes.
The sight of her lying there, surrounded by flickering candles, the moon casting a pale glow on her—he sucked in a breath. His angel. He let his gaze slide lazily down her body, taking in each dip and curve.
“You don’t know what you do to me.”
She reached for his hand and tugged him onto the scented bed. “You talk too much.”
Yeah, well, if she didn’t look so much like an angel, he could hobble his tongue. However, he was in no mood to argue. Fire in his belly demanded he quench it. H
e lay on his side next to her and slid his fingers down the column of her throat. He was unworthy of someone like her. He’d killed too many men, had too much blood on his hands, buried too many mistakes.
Lived with demons he couldn’t shake.
A tremble ran through him as he crushed her to him, his lips on hers, sealed in the kind of kiss that burned into his brain, a brand that only she could create.
Tasting the intensity of her need, he slid his palms down her body. Touching. Smoothing. Stroking. Worshipping this woman who’d thrown her lot in with his.
If he lived a thousand years with her, it would be too short.
The fragrance of the night seemed to hold them in a cocoon where they were safe. Somewhere off in the distance came the faint murmur of men’s voices.
When they ran out of air, Clay broke the kiss. Their breaths mingled and he inhaled her soft freshness. “I need you, Tally,” he murmured against her mouth. “Don’t ever leave me.”
Her promise to stay at least until spring popped into his head. If she left…
Oh God, he couldn’t bear to think of that. She was part of him now. She was more than a wife—she was his very lifeblood.
He trembled as love for her washed over him. He’d chosen to love her the day they met, but now his heart was opening and taking her deep inside, where he’d never let anyone. She filled his life with hope and promise, and he’d never felt this way about any woman.
While he wasn’t looking, the chosen love had become the real and lasting kind. The thought shook him. There were no half measures now.
He loved Tally with every ounce of his being. She was his fire, his flame. Forever.
“Clay,” she whispered against his ear. “Don’t hold back. Make me whole.”
“Not yet.” He ran his palm down each shapely leg, then massaged her feet and kissed them. Moving back up, he drew his palm across her flat stomach and took a breast in his hand, rolling the hard nipple between his fingers.
The hiss of her indrawn breath reached him. Tally gave a low cry and arched her back. She thrust her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth to her. He flicked his tongue across the swollen peak and sucked it inside.