A Man for Annalee (14 page)
“Makes you human.” He tucked two fingers under her chin and lifted her face so he could peer into her eyes. “I never met your parents, but from what you’ve told me, they were good people. So was your grandpappy.” He exhaled a sigh. “Clarence was evil. Not only did he shoot a defenseless man in the back, but he often beat the soiled doves at the Red Garter.” His jaw tightened. “And he was intent on raping you. That alone makes him deserving of what just happened. I protect what’s mine, Annalee.” Warm lips covered hers in a hard, possessive kiss, as his hold on her tightened.
Her toes curled in her shoes again. His kisses had that effect. Slowly her hands slid across his muscled chest and curled into the fringes of his jacket. He feathered kisses across her jaw and down her neck. She tilted her head to grant him access, shivering with excitement when his tongue flicked the tender skin behind her ear.
She loosened her fingers from the buckskin and slowly pushed him away. “You know Cora would never approve of our kissing in my grandpa’s bedroom.”
Boone’s lips twitched. “I can hear her tongue clucking all the way from her parlor.” He stepped back and took her hand. “I’ll help you scrub the blood from your floors and steps. Then I’ll carry Clarence’s body to his parents.”
“There’s no need. I can do it.” Her eyes darted toward the pool of blood at the top of her steps. “Cleaning is a woman’s job.” Although her momma had said those same words many times, she suddenly wished it wasn’t so. Could she stomach cleaning up blood?
“I won’t have you upset. I’ve seen spilled blood before. You haven’t. Maybe while I clean things up here, you could make me some coffee.” He ran his hand through his dark hair. “It’s been a long day.”
“Sounds fair enough.” No need to hide her relief over his offer. “I’ll fill a bucket with water and a rag.” She turned toward the steps and stopped. “Was Clarence behind the stagecoach attack?”
Boone’s large hand settled in the small of her back. “Yes. He was also the one who shot at you in front of Cora and Franklin’s house. The Pinkerton agent I contacted in Laramie found out Clarence told the railroad he was the new owner of Lee’s property.”
“So either I had to die or he had to marry me to get his hands on it.” The tintype of her lying on the floor caught her attention. She bent to retrieve it. Her grandpa had cherished this picture, and she wanted to hang it back on the wall.
“Boone, look at this.” She held the tintype out for him to see. “There’s an envelope on the back.”
He took it from her and examined the legal envelope. “His will and the deed are in here.” He unfolded the legal papers and scanned them. “Looks like he left everything to you. This is your home now, free and clear.”
“So that’s what Grandpa meant when he said I was to ‘look behind myself.’ He meant behind my picture.”
“Smart man. Who would have thought to look for the will here?”
She gazed into his brown eyes and was once more struck by the melting effect they had on her. There was no denying her feelings for this man any longer. A part of her would always fear loss, but a larger part of her loved Boone Hartwell. She slid her hands up his chest. “I can’t run this ranch by myself. I’ll need a husband to help me.”
“A husband you love as much as he loves you?” He trailed fingers down her face.
“Yes. I love you, Boone Hartwell. While I wasn’t too keen on marrying a marshal, I might be persuaded to marry a rancher.” She leaned in and kissed his chin.
“Most women wouldn’t have the courage to make a proposition like that.” He stepped so close their thighs touched, which did delightful things to her insides.
“Perhaps, but I’m a graduate of Miss Feather’s Finishing School for Refined Ladies of Culture and Proper Decorum.” She looped her arms around his neck and smiled. “We’re known for our courage.”
Epilogue
November 20, 1871
Dear Emma Rose,
How I wish you were here with me in Cicero Creek. I miss our long talks as we work on our sewing. How are you, my friend? How is life living with your sister, her husband, and their two little ones? Have you found other employment?
I’m sorry I haven’t written you sooner, but so much has happened since I left Chicago. As you know, I came to Wyoming to live with my grandfather. Alas, when I arrived, he had already passed. He was killed by a rotten scoundrel who wanted to claim his land. What he didn’t know was Grandpa willed his land to me. Here in Wyoming, a woman is allowed to own land. Why, they can even vote. Imagine!
My new home has an extra bedroom, should you want to come west for a fresh start in life. I don’t offer lightly. You know I always mean what I say, well, unless I’m angry. Please give it careful consideration. To have the gift of your presence, I would gladly wire you a stagecoach ticket and count the days until you arrive.
Fresh starts out here are magical in their own way. I’ve fallen in love with the marshal, Boone Hartwell. We plan to marry the first Sunday in March. I wish you would be here to help me sew my wedding dress and be my maid of honor. How happy I would be to have you by my side, standing up for me. Please give it much thought.
Yours truly,
Annalee
A word about the author...
Award-winning author Vonnie Davis fills her retirement days as a fairy godmother, giving happy endings to her characters. She writes contemporary, historical, paranormal, and romantic suspense.
She attended Penn State University and Wilson College, majoring in both Business Administration and English. Like most writers, she started penning stories in her pre-teen years with the dream of becoming an author. Then life got in the way—marriage, wonderful children, job, college as a grandma and, after twelve years of being alone, a new love.
She is now retired, having traded the tailored clothes of a technical writer for the feathered boa of a romance author. She lives in Lynchburg, Virginia, with her husband Calvin, a man she met online. Ah, now there’s a romantic story.
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