The Cowboy's Honor

by Lacy Williams

  She shouldn’t… “If you’re leaving anyway, maybe you should come with me. I know your family misses you something terrible.”

  Daniel would be furious, of course. He wasn’t going to like her departure no matter what. But she was determined to make it happen.

  "I can't."

  “Of course you can. You simply go to the depot and purchase a ticket. And in a matter of days—”

  “Too much has changed." His words rang with finality.

  Did he mean that he had changed? Or that there was too much gone wrong between them?

  Maybe she’d asked the question with the tiniest kernel of hope. That if they had more time together, she could make him understand. That he could find it in his heart to forgive her. Maybe he could find peace at the family homestead instead of running from whatever was chasing him now.

  But his simple words obliterated that hope.

  Her hand shook as she clipped the last diaper onto the line. "I think I'll start dinner. Do you mind watching those two until they’re ready to come inside? Caroline will probably wake up in a bit, and then we can head home.”

  She started for the door before he could answer.

  "Emma.”

  She kept going, afraid to look back. Afraid he would see the tears that were threatening.

  9

  They walked home in silence.

  Emma had been quiet since she’d told him she was going back home.

  Seb still couldn’t believe she’d asked him to go with her. What would it solve to travel back to the place where his hopes had been dashed?

  He was too caught up in his thoughts, not paying attention to his surroundings.

  The thug was skulking in the shadow of Emma's front door, and Seb didn't see him until it was too late.

  The man was taller than Seb and had forty pounds on him.

  Seb had barely recovered enough to walk down the street. He was in no shape to be fighting. But his only thought was to get Emma past the ruffian and inside.

  The thug was already moving towards them, and she was completely unaware.

  Seb grasped her elbow, hard, and she gasped.

  "Get inside and bar the door behind you."

  "What?”

  “Go!" Seb pushed her toward the front step and moved to head off the thug. He didn't recognize this guy. Had this hunk of flesh had been recruited after Seb's defection?

  Seb watched to see if Emma made it to the door. What was taking her so long?

  The big guy took a swing and Seb ducked, the punch meant for his face going wide. His side burned.

  Another man moved out of the shadow at the side of the house toward the stoop, where Emma was struggling with the latch. Seb only got a half-second glance at the man, but his blood ran cold.

  It was Beckett, Tolliver’s right-hand man. He was known for his cruelty. Seb had once seen him break a child’s arm as a threat to the kid’s father. "Emma!"

  Seb took a blow to the ribs, thankfully not the injured ones. He spun away from the man, his gaze back on Emma.

  She hadn’t made it inside. Beckett loomed over her, her arm in his meaty grip.

  "Not so fast."

  Seb’s stomach lurched at the ice in Beckett’s voice.

  Emma's face was a pale smudge in the falling dark. She must be terrified. His mind strayed back to what she had gone through at fifteen. He still remembered the utter fear she’d expressed when a lunatic named Underhill had tried to kidnap her. She’d been afraid for herself and her sister Fran. This had to be bringing all of those fears back. But Emma stood still, her head up and alert. Was it worse for her that she couldn’t see her attacker or a way to escape?

  If they were going to get out of this, he needed to go on the offensive. He blocked his attacker’s next blow, then feinted left and hit the man with an uppercut that rattled him.

  He could hear Emma struggling with Beckett and then the sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh.

  He felt the blow as if he were the one who’d been struck. Was she all right?

  “Don’t hurt her,” he gritted out.

  He didn't know where it came from, this surge of energy and adrenaline, focusing him like the point of a knife. He feared for Emma’s safety. She was the only thing that mattered.

  He danced around the next punch. Maybe he'd slowed his attacker with the blow he’d landed. He got in close, bracing for what would come, but he gave a hard, quick jab that connected with his attacker’s temple. The man crumpled.

  Seb whirled to the doorstep. Beckett had Emma trapped against the wall. His fist was coiled to strike.

  There was no way Seb was going to get over there in time. He tried anyway, knowing he would be too late to block the punch.

  But Emma moved, and Beckett’s fist hit the closed door. The man let out a grunt of pain. He bent over slightly, and Emma head-butted him, connecting with his nose. There was a sickening crunch.

  But even that wasn't enough to make Beckett release his hold on her arm. He’d been slowed for all of two seconds, but that fist was still moving. Seb stepped in front of it and took it on the jaw, momentarily disoriented. He pushed Emma away, breaking Beckett’s hold on her.

  He saw her stumble and then heard her fall in the grass. Anger and desperate fear drove him until he could think of nothing else.

  He slammed the heel of his hand into Beckett’s face, in the same spot where Emma's headbutt had already caused blood to flow.

  Beckett cried out.

  But the man was tough, and he threw a fist into Seb’s side, hitting the knife wound.

  Seb bit back a cry. But he didn’t stop fighting. He struck again and again.

  “You tell… Tolliver… to stay away from her."

  Seb knew the words were a mistake when Beckett’s eyes gleamed with an unholy light.

  He’d just given Tolliver—through Beckett—ammunition. The knowledge that Emma was important to him.

  And these were exactly the kind of men who would hurt Emma to get to Seb.

  He couldn't let that happen. Fury drove him, and red took over his vision. He connected punch after punch until Beckett was lying on the ground, unconscious. Even then, he couldn't make himself stop striking the man's battered face.

  Not until he heard Emma's tiny voice calling his name.

  * * *

  Emma lay on the ground, terrified.

  She was frozen in the grass, trembling like a baby bunny trying to hide in plain sight. Even her voice was frozen inside her, the terror of so long ago mingling with the present.

  What should she do? Should she try to run?

  She heard the sickening sounds of two men grunting in pain as their blows connected. A rapid flurry of movement, and then it was only the sound of one.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  Somehow, a punch sounded more brutal than a slap. A fist against flesh. The blows began to slow, but Emma's heart raced.

  Had Seb fallen? Was she alone out here? She hadn't even been able to get inside the house like he had told her to do.

  Thinking about how weak and frail he’d been over the last few days, fear for him pushed through her fright. She'd heard at least two men. With him being so injured, how could he fend off two attackers?

  She murmured his name. The sickening sounds stopped. There was only the sound of one person’s harsh breathing. Was it Seb, or her assailant?

  She sensed the man unfold to his full height, and footsteps brought him closer to her. All she could do was cower in the grass.

  "How badly are you hurt?"

  Seb.

  It turned out she did have some strength left. She untangled her skirts from around her feet and stood, throwing herself at him. He caught her tightly to him, and she felt the tremors shaking him. Shaking them both.

  “Come here.”

  He pulled her around the side of the house, where they couldn’t be seen from the street. He touched her jaw, turning her face up toward his. She couldn't he
lp wincing as his fingers brushed the place at the edge of her cheek where she’d been hit. His hand gentled.

  She heard air move between his teeth in a little hiss. "He hit you?"

  She didn't answer. He could probably already see the bruise blooming there.

  “What else? Did you twist your ankle when I knocked you down?"

  She shook her head. Other than the headache she had from head-butting her attacker, she was only shaken.

  Seb pulled her closer, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. She turned her face into his throat.

  "You remembered how to fight back."

  She would never forget the lessons he had given her back when Underhill had been chasing her and Fran. She hadn't known they were burned into her body’s memories until she had just done it. She’d been shocked when her knee to the man's groin had hurt him.

  It had been enough to give her the courage to try the headbutt as well.

  Seb was holding her so tightly that she didn't have good leverage, but she patted her hands against his midsection, trying to feel for warm, sticky blood.

  "Did they reopen your wounds? Are you hurt?"

  She felt his chin brush her hair as he shook his head. "If I am, I don't feel it."

  She wasn't sure how that was possible. Maybe he just didn't want to tell her.

  He let her go, and she felt the loss of his touch keenly.

  "We've got to go."

  Go? Go where?

  "Those two are out for now, but they’ll rouse soon enough."

  She felt a weird sense of relief. He hadn't killed that awful man. The sounds of his punches, fist hitting flesh, were burned into her memory, and she shuddered.

  He didn't embrace her this time.

  "Where are we going?"

  He took her arm and ushered her down the street. "It's not safe here. They knew where to find me. They know where you live. We've got to get to Daniel."

  Air froze in her lungs. "Do you think Daniel is in danger?"

  His step stuttered, but he pressed on. "I hope not. Daniel can keep you safe.”

  "What—what about you? You protected me.”

  He laughed, the sound bitter. "I'm the reason those thugs attacked us. You wouldn't have been in danger tonight if it weren't for me."

  "So you're leaving?" Her voice emerged tiny. She hated what it revealed to him. That she still had feelings for him.

  He was silent for a moment, their footsteps the only sound between them. Finally, he said, "I was always planning to leave, remember? But I can promise you won't be in danger again."

  She heard the tone of resolve in his voice. What did that mean?

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Something Daniel’s been after me to do. Something I was trying to get out of doing. I'm not running away anymore."

  "Daniel and I will help you."

  "This is something I've got to do myself."

  "But—"

  "Emma, this is hard enough. Don't you understand?”

  Suddenly he stopped walking and tugged her around so they were face-to-face. He crushed her to him again, his mouth pressing against hers in a desperate kiss. In his kiss, she felt everything. The love still between them—it hadn't died after all. His desperation and fear. He was pouring everything he felt into this one last kiss. As if he was saying good-bye forever.

  Some noise must've spooked him, because he broke the kiss and held her close for another second before he let her go, taking her arm again and moving down the street.

  After what she’d been through, she understood why he felt he needed to go on alone.

  But she hadn’t been alone. Not really. She’d had Daniel by her side.

  Who would stand by Seb?

  Part II

  10

  1906 - A small Wyoming town

  Cecilia White’s heart pounded as she waited for the last of her students to trickle out of the classroom.

  All except Joel.

  Joel was one of the younger students, and his father picked him up every day after school.

  Cecilia couldn't help the way her hands trembled as she piled up the school books she was going to take home with her tonight. Her lunch pail was empty and sat on top of her desk. She wiped down the blackboard and then quickly swept up the dried grass and dust her students had brought in with them after the recess break.

  There were two more weeks before the summer break.

  Two more weeks of seeing her students grasp a new concept for the first time. Seeing the pride on their faces and knowing that she was the one teaching them.

  It was a source of pride that she could begin to pay back the long-overdue debt that she owed her parents.

  She loved being a teacher, but today she could barely focus on the usual end-of-day tasks.

  Because Joel’s father Simon was coming to pick him up.

  And if it happened the same way it had happened for the past three weeks, Simon would ask if they could walk home together.

  It was completely innocent. She was a teacher who had to walk home, and Simon and Joel happened to be walking in the same direction.

  But the stolen moments with Simon as Joel ran ahead were quickly becoming some of Cecilia's most cherished times. Simon was charming and handsome and a good father…

  And here.

  But when Cecilia turned to see the schoolhouse door open, it was not Simon who entered.

  She stiffened at the sight of Mr. Potter, one of the school board members who had hired her at the beginning of the school term.

  He spotted Joel waiting quietly at the corner desk.

  "Run along now, child," Mr. Potter said. "Your papa’s waiting for you outside."

  Cecilia's stomach swooped and twisted. What was going on?

  "I'm surprised to see you today, sir." She moved to the desk and picked up her books and pail.

  Mr. Potter's expression was serious, his frown stretched across his entire face. “We need to talk, young lady."

  She put her books and pail down. His tone heightened her anxiety. Should she sit? Was he here to extend her an invitation to teach next year? She’d gotten rave reviews about the school’s Christmas pageant, and the spelling bee had been well-attended only a few weeks before. One of her students was even planning to attend college in the fall.

  Dithering, she finally settled her hip against the desk.

  He stood with arms crossed in the middle of the classroom.

  “The school board informed you that there would be no tolerance for improper behavior."

  Cecilia's neck went hot even as her hands went cold. That did not sound like a promising start. What could he be referencing? She’d been very careful to keep her actions appropriate at all times.

  Mr. Potter seemed as if he were waiting for her to speak, but she had no idea what to say. "I remember," she said when it seemed he would not go on without her acknowledging his words.

  "If you remember our conversation, then I have to say that I am surprised by the way you have been comporting yourself."

  She shook her head. "May I ask what specifically you are speaking of?"

  "Have you been spending time with the father of one of your students?"

  The heat in her face and neck intensified. "If you mean Simon, we have walked together on our way home a few times. Surely it's not inappropriate to walk home with one of my students and his parent."

  Joel’s father was a widower. What could be inappropriate in having a simple conversation as they walked in the same direction?

  Mr. Potter wore an expression of keen disappointment. “Simon is married. It is shameful for you to attempt to break up a family."

  Cecilia's confusion grew. "He told me his wife had passed away."

  Mr. Potter only frowned more as if her words were some kind of admission of guilt. "His first wife passed away. He remarried, and I believe his second wife is in the family way.” He spoke the last in nearly a whisper, as if the admission itself was inappropriate. “She’s been
bedridden these last months.”

  Unease boiled in Cecilia’s stomach. Simon had told her his wife died, but not that he had remarried. What could he have possibly meant by withholding the information?

  "Be that as it may," she said. “Is there a rule against walking with a child and his parent home from school?"

  "Of course not. But Joel’s mother saw you out the window talking with her husband and thought you looked too familiar. She said you were flirting with him.”

  Cecilia may have smiled at Simon, but she hadn't so much as touched him. She’d never been alone in his presence. Joel had always accompanied them.

  She told Mr. Potter all of this.

  But he shook his head, and his frown remained. “The school board put me in charge of this matter to take a statement from all of the parties involved. Simon indicated that you had been the one to suggest walking home together. He also indicated that you had made overtures toward him."

  Cecilia's throat closed up, but she forced words past her suddenly dry tongue. "That is not true. And if he thought I was, why did he continue to walk with me?"

  Mr. Potter didn’t have an answer. And she couldn't tell whether he believed her.

  He made her sit down, and they went through every interaction that she could remember having had with Simon, no matter how innocent. Every time they had walked home together. What Simon had said to her.

  As she recounted their friendship, each thing that she had to tell Mr. Potter made shame color her cheeks.

  Her actions hadn’t been inappropriate. Perhaps she had flirted with Simon at times, but he had led her to believe that he was single. Surely Mr. Potter and the other board members couldn’t find fault with her behavior.

  But as Mr. Potter ended his line of questioning, she saw disappointment, and even anger etched in his expression.

  “I did nothing wrong.” She tried to sound confident, but she heard desperation in her tone.

  "I am very disappointed. The school board cautioned you against acting inappropriately.”

  She swallowed hard, felt a stinging behind her nose that meant tears were close. She fought them back.