A Texan's Promise (24 page)

The wound where the bullet had entered was far bigger than any injury Vanessa had seen before. Jagged, red, and almost as a wide as a silver dollar, it looked angry and swollen.

"Doc said he had quite a time fishing the bullet out," Clayton said by way of explanation. "It'll heal up in no time."

"You almost sound proud of it."

He dared to smile. "I'm proud I survived it, I suppose."

Vanessa fought to keep her bearings. No woman ever wanted to see such injury to her husband. "I see."

As carefully as possible, she washed the area thoroughly, then wrapped it neatly with the clean bandages Corrine had rolled for her.

Through all her administrations, Clayton had sat rigid, hardly moving. When she noticed that he looked a little gray, she hurried a bit more, fastening a strip of linen too tightly.Clayton grunted.

Immediately, she loosened the binding. "I'm sorry I'm causing you more pain. I don't mean to."

"I know. You're not. Stop fussing, Vanessa."

Fussing? "Clayton, I'm trying to help you."

"Then leave the bandages alone and keep me company.That's what I need more than anything else."

That was all she needed to hear.

Once she made sure he was comfortable, Vanessa sat in the chair next to him.

"Come lie by my side. I've missed you, Van."

She didn't need to be asked again. She, too, felt like they could never be close enough. After carefully smoothing the sheets around him, Vanessa lay by his side on top of the quilt.He shifted, and in no time Vanessa was curled up next to him, her palm resting on the soft cotton of his shirt.

Within minutes, he moved closer, shifted so he spooned her in his arms, her back touching his chest and stomach.Little by little, they both relaxed.

"This is where I've wanted to be," she said. "By your side, keeping you company."

"I've wanted you here in my arms, sweet and so perfect."

She knew how much his admittance had cost him. Clayton hated to sound dependent on anyone else. "You should have let me come to you earlier."

"I wouldn't have wanted you to see me in such a condition.Besides, our time apart fulfilled our promises. And, I made some money."

"Let's not talk about money now."

"All right, honey. We won't. We don't need to talk about much now, do we?"

Her eyes drifted shut. It was true, she was exhausted.Everything she'd been through in the last week—the hurried packing, the hasty good-byes, the interminable rides on the stage and in the train cars—it all had taken its toll.

But now, all she needed was time to sleep. Finally, just like she'd never slept before, she closed her eyes and succumbed to oblivion.

Finally, they were together again.

Over the next week, Vanessa and Clayton settled into a routine. Vanessa slept in a room next to his, but otherwise spent the day by his side.

She visited with a cantankerous Doc Bodey, changed Clayton's dressings, and helped Rhianna and Etta as much as she could with Clayton's meals.

She helped him walk and exercise his leg, first just up and down the long halls that were in need of a good washing.Later, they tackled the scarred and stained staircase.

But more than anything else she and Clayton talked. They spent hours recalling old friendships and telling each other about things that happened during their time apart.

They talked of Miles and Corrine, of Lacy and the Willoughbys. Of Red Cloud, of her mother, and of his tremendous worries regarding Scout and the mistakes he'd made regarding his brother.

Finally, ten days after she arrived, Vanessa accompanied Clayton out the boardinghouse and down the boardwalk to the mayor's office.

Mayor Stuart looked up in surprise when Clayton led her through the door. "Sheriff? I didn't expect you to be up so quickly."

"I'm not the type to stay in bed," Clayton said. "Please meet my wife, Vanessa."

Mayor Stuart stood up. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs.Proffitt." With a grin, he said, "Looks like we're going to need to find you a better place to live than above the jail, son. That ain't no place to house a wife."

Clayton shifted. "That's why I'm here. I'm resigning my position, Mayor. I'm afraid this job and I aren't a good match."

After motioning them both to sit in the rickety wooden chairs across from him, Stuart sighed. "You sure?"

"I'm afraid so." Staring intently at the mayor, Clayton said, "It's not just getting shot, sir. I . . . I realized I'm not well suited to keep the peace. My strengths lie on the back of a horse, rounding up cattle, working the land."

"You did fine."

"I'm afraid the decision is made."

"I see." Leaning back, Mayor Stuart looked Clayton directly in the eye. "I wish I could say this was a surprise, but quite honestly, I figured you would be resigning. No man who has something to live for is going to remain happy at a job as dangerous as this one."

Looking at Vanessa, Clayton reached for her hand. "I've found that to be true."

"Well, I'm glad of that. You two look very happy. I'm guessing the separation was difficult?"

"Very much so," Vanessa said.

"Well, I hope you keep him in line from now on, ma'am.No more jobs with guns, all right?" With a touch of humor, he said, "Getting shot should be avoided, don't you think?"

"I believe so," Clayton replied dryly. Then, after a quick look at Vanessa, he held out his hand. "Sir, I've appreciated the opportunity; it's just time I went back to my family."

Mayor Stuart smiled at Vanessa. "I can see your point.Godspeed, Clayton." Standing up, he crossed to a massive safe in the back. After opening it up, he pulled out a thick envelope."I've been saving this for you. Take it; it's your wages.You've earned them."

After a few more parting words, they left the office. As they walked down the boardwalk again, Clayton smiled. "I feel as if a giant weight has just been lifted from my shoulders."

"I feel the same way. I didn't like you being a sheriff," Vanessa said. "I worried too much about you."

"I can't say I'm going to miss upholding the law. Every night I worried I'd have to shoot some poor soul . . . and I promised myself after the war that I wouldn't take up a gun again if I didn't have to."

Taking her arm, they slowly headed back to the Tall Oaks Inn. "My leg's almost completely healed. Doc Bodey said in two more days I'll be ready to ride. I'd say it's just about time to leave."

Vanessa was ready for their new beginning, for them to go back to Colorado—or to wherever Clayton wanted to take them. "I'll be ready when you are."

They left Benson two days later, Clayton on Lee, Vanessa on a pretty chestnut-colored mare named Buttercup. Clayton figured they could sell the horse without a problem back in Denver.

As the broad, desolate plains of Nebraska spilled out before them, Vanessa turned to him. "Are we headed to Cheyenne?"

"Not yet. I thought we might take a few days to ourselves.I wrote a friend soon after you arrived in Benson. I heard back from him yesterday. He's got a cabin about twenty miles from here that he said we were welcome to use." He paused."Vanessa, if it's all right with you, I thought we could stay there for a few days. No reason for us to be rushing around again. I feel like that's all I've been doing. All we've been doing since we left the Circle Z."

"I'd love to take our time traveling. And the cabin sounds charming."

He chuckled. "I'm not sure it's that, but I'm hoping we'll find it comfortable. At least we won't have a dozen boarders traipsing up and down the halls."

"It will be very fine, I'm sure," Vanessa answered, not needing to say much more. She knew why they were going to the cabin. Finally, they were going to make their marriage true.Instead of being nervous about the idea, a feeling of peace washed over her. Now, everything was going to be just fine.They were together and they had a future. Clayton was healing.They'd moved on, both literally and in their hearts.Finally, she was living her dream.

They'd gone almost a dozen miles when a loud crack exploded not three feet from Lee's front hooves. Both horses whinnied in surprise. Vanessa held tight as she tried to keep her seat on Buttercup.

Clayton turned to his left and scanned the area. The area was flat and so vacant that its edges seemed to disappear in the horizon. Tall golden brush blew in the breeze, creating a faint rustling in the distance. But just in the shadows of the plains, three figures appeared.

"Hold!" Clayton called out.

In reply, the grasses rustled again, followed by a sharp whistling sound. With a start, Vanessa realized they were getting shot at. Buttercup pranced a bit and shuddered.

Panic engulfed Vanessa as she fought to calm her horse.What had just happened? Had Indians found them again?

With a staying hand, Clayton motioned her to be aware for anything. Slowly, he pulled out his peacemaker.

Just the thought of being in the company of another band of Indians made Vanessa's stomach churn. Carefully, she scanned the horizon once more, following Clayton's direction.The shadowy forms were clearer now, and riding toward them without a bit of hesitancy.

Four men were approaching. All wore black hats and long tan dusters. Though their gait was easy, there also seemed to be something sinister about them. Each held a Winchester loosely in his hands.

Now, it seemed she had even more to fear.

"Stay by my side," Clayton commanded, never taking his eyes off of the approaching men. "And, whatever you do, keep your seat and don't say a word."

Vanessa patted Buttercup and hoped the horse wouldn't bolt. Minutes passed. The men's horses slowed. But as she heard them laughing to one another, each telling ribald jokes, Vanessa's terror intensified. Inside her leather gloves, her palms dampened.

She could feel Clayton's tension next to her, sensed his anger as he glared at the men. Ever so slightly, his hand shifted as he positioned his Colt.

One rode forward, his shoulders covered in a thick buffalo coat. "Who are you?" he called out. Even from that distance, Vanessa could tell he was a real mountain man.

Clayton answered easily. "Sheriff Proffitt. My wife and I are just passing through. Who are you?"

The man smiled, showing a definite lack of teeth. "We're no one you've ever heard of."

Clayton let that pass. "Why did you shoot?"

"This here's private land. You're trespassing. We take that seriously round here."

Clayton looked as if he didn't believe a word of it. "I saw no fence."

"Don't need one."

The other riders approached, their frank gazes sliding along her form with enough boldness to make Vanessa's skin crawl.Amazing how since she'd started this journey, she'd met a wide assortment of folks, some more dangerous than they looked, others the opposite. Yet none had made her feel as dirty or afraid as her own stepfather had.

No one had until these men. And, if Clayton's motion of bringing his Colt more out in the open was any indication, he felt the same way. Vanessa knew her husband would not hesitate to shoot any of them if he suspected they would try to do her harm. That said a lot. Vanessa knew Clayton was tired of guns and violence.