The Lady and the Lawman (35 page)

“
You
were successful in my capture. Do you mind telling me how you
accomplished this?” Her hand gestured to the room around her.

William’s
laugh echoed in the confines of the small space. “Oh, it was an
easy job to do, stealing you from your husband. And he calls himself
a Sheriff? Ha! Masterson wasn't there, no one was there to protect
you. All someone had to do was walk into the house and grab you. It
was simple.” He snapped his fingers. “No one saw you leave. Don’t
worry, we’ll be together now. Forever.”

The
man was insane. She hadn’t been able to protect herself from his
brutishness when he was sane, but now, her fear only increased.
Should she try to escape, or play along? What was the saying? You can
attract more bees with honey than with vinegar?

“
How
did you get past my husband? It seems you are much smarter than he.”

A
sneer formed on his lean face, and his chest puffed up with what she
surmised as male pride. “Very well. I’ll share my escapades with
you. It's the least I can do for my future bride.”

She
stopped listening to his ego-building babble. Her thoughts honed in
on his words.
Future
bride
.
She was married to Grant. How...? Oh God!

“
...when
I was so rudely sent away from you the last time you saw me, I bumped
into your friend Dalton in town. At the saloon, to be exact. If I
remember our conversation correctly, Croft’s Saloon was where you
met him for the first time, as well.”

William
raised an eyebrow at her, questioning her through a look. She made no
reply, too scared to speak, so William continued with a wave of his
hand. “It seemed our desires were similar, to bring Masterson down.
I, however, wanted more. Much more. I wanted you back. It doesn't
matter to me that Masterson’s your husband and you've slept with
him, and likely every man that waltzed through that brothel as well.
I don't mind sleeping with a whore. I’m sure you’ve picked up
many talents I will enjoy immensely.”

She
was physically ill, nauseated. The thought of William’s hands on
her body made bile rise in her throat.

William
had planned for days to take her away from Grant, with the assistance
of Grant's worst foe, Dalton. Dalton wanted Grant dead, and so did
William. But William didn't want to get his gentlemanly hands filthy,
and he knew that Dalton wouldn’t care in the slightest. He had
Dalton doing his dirty work while William gained a wife.

If
Grant was killed, there would be nothing to prevent William from
marrying her. They could return to Philadelphia without anyone the
wiser, with William just where he wanted to be—in her mansion with
her money.

A
thought struck her. “You were the one shooting at us.”

“
At
Masterson, yes,” William replied.

It
was a good thing he as a terrible shot.

“
What
are your plans now that you’ve captured me?”

“
We
will return to Philadelphia, to your old life. It will be easy. No
one will be the wiser. The story will be simple.” he crossed his
arms over his lanky frame. “I came upon you in California and
brought you home. Your marriage to Masterson never happened, and for
you it will only be a distant memory.”

“
I’m
already married. To Grant. You can’t marry me.”

“
Ah,
but that’s just it,” William said. Looking at his pocket watch,
he continued, “As of two hours ago, Masterson’s dead. Dalton’s
men took care of that little impediment in my plan. You are now a
widow, therefore you can marry again. Me, to be specific.”

She
didn't believe him. Grant couldn’t be dead. If he was still alive,
she couldn’t warn him, to protect him. She was more afraid now than
ever before in her life.

William’s
plan sounded solid and foolproof.

“
If
I'm to become your wife, don't you think these surroundings,” she
said as she held her arms up gesturing the room around her, “are
unnecessary?”

“
You
slipped away from me once. I'm not letting it happen again. You're
not my wife—yet.”

He
left her then, closing the door behind him. The key turned in the
lock, making her a prisoner once again. William had left the lantern
next to the tray of food so she was able to take in her rustic
surroundings. The room was cast in strange shadows, and she could see
the steam rise from the food on the tray. Hungry as she was, the
greasy smell made her stomach turn.

Hours
passed and she waited. She slept fitfully on the bed and listened for
anything, anyone. Her thoughts constantly turned to Grant and his
fate. Was he really dead? She’d just confided in him, sharing her
love, and now she wouldn’t have the chance again.

William
would get away with Grant’s murder. He wouldn't even be tied in as
an accomplice. Even with Grant dead, she wasn’t free to marry. She
loved him. Her heart was his, thinking of all of their intimacies
they shared, remembering how his hands could awaken her body with
only a brush or a caress. She had never felt closer to another when
she was in his arms, their bodies joined, becoming one. Her love
though, would not be enough to save him.

She
would marry William and return to Philadelphia, to a society she left
behind without a thought. He would make her forget her marriage, keep
it a secret. William would be cast as the hero, rescuing her from
herself, her own weaknesses as a woman. He would make her appear
frail and pathetic to all of their acquaintances, building his own
ego because of her faults. She would not be allowed to leave the
house without an escort of his choosing, watched and guarded at all
times. William knew she would try to escape. She'd done it once. If
given the opportunity, she’d do it again.

She'd
learned to appreciate the freedom that the west, and Grant, offered.
Conforming to the rules of Eastern society again would crush her
spirit. William knew it, and was using it against her. It was his
weapon. And he’d use it to kill her slowly, painfully over time.

Or
maybe not. Maybe William was still committed to his ultimate goal.
Murder. She hadn’t heard anything about a honeymoon trip, but there
was no question in her mind William’s ultimate intentions.

Thoughts
quickly dissipated when she again heard steps outside the door and a
key in the lock.

“
Come,
my dear, you're filthy and you need to look every bit the lady you
will soon be. You will redeem all of the qualities of a lady, of my
wife, you lost when you married M
asterson.
I won’t tolerate any of these casual ways they condone out here in
this God-forsaken place. Hopefully the trip east will be enough time
for your skin to lose that awful complexion. And those
freckles!
No wife of mine will let their skin darken.”

She
thought of a conversation she and Grant shared one afternoon. He’d
commented on how beautiful she looked, brushing his knuckles over the
soft skin of her cheek. He’d told her the warm color only added to
her beauty. She longed for Grant’s touch, for his kind words.

William
made her mad. How dare he take away something from her as precious as
Grant? Playing by his rules, promoting his egotistical fantasies, was
all in the past. She was ready to defy him at every turn.

He
held out his hand. She resisted and kept her hands in her lap.

“
Starting
now, you will do as I say. In everything you do. Do not think
Masterson is coming after you. He is dead. Gone from your life.”

“
He's
not dead. There's no chance you, Dalton, or anyone else could kill
him. He's coming to rescue me. I'm his wife and will never be yours!”
Margaret, although unsure of any kind of rescue, put on a façade of
strength. She was Grant's wife in her heart.

William
used the hand he held out to her to slap her across the face. The
strike was so violent, she fell back onto the bed, stars spinning in
front of her eyes. Stunned, she
lifted
her hand to her cheek a
nd
tears welled in her eyes.

“
Take
the hand I offer, Margaret, or I promise I will make your life a
living hell.” He was furious with her defiance, and she knew his
patience was worn thin.

She
didn’t have a choice, did she?

She
lifted her chin and took his hand. Her cheek stung from his strike,
but she ignored the pain and let him drag her out of the dark, musty
room and into a kitchen. The room was large and immaculate, and she
could tell from the large work surfaces, butcher block and ornate
fixtures that this was an impressive house. William turned and led
her up the back servant stairs, to the second floor. As he directed
her to a bathroom with a large tub in the middle of the room, she
couldn't help but feel exhausted and filthy.

The
possibility of William drowning her in the tub was real, although she
quickly ruled it out. He needed her alive in order to marry her. As
long as they weren’t wed, she’d have a fighting chance. She had
to cling to that as some shred of hope.

“
You
have an hour. New clothes are on the stand there. Be ready for dinner
when I return.”

She
gave William a look that shot daggers. He saw it and commented,
“Don't push me. That slap was nothing. I've been more than a
gentleman with you. Don't think I wouldn’t just take you to my
bedroom and have my way with you.”

He
closed the door behind him and turned the key in another lock. She
spun from the door to look at her surroundings. They were much
improved from the room downstairs. White tiles covered the floor,
w
ith
ornately carved walls.

Seeing
a window, she dashed to it, circumventing the large tub. There were
shutters covering the lower portion for privacy. Opening one, she
looked out to complete darkness. It must be late, at least ten at
night. There were no buildings she could see. The glass was backlit
with the illumination from the lantern. Not knowing where she was did
nothing to comfort her.

The
connection William had with Dalton caused her to assume she was in
Dalton’s home, although she didn't know where it was. Grant had
never told her the location of his land or home, but assumed it was
in the vicinity of town. Tom’s land, she knew, took up most of the
area to the north and west of the town, so there were only two other
directions she could be. But knowing this didn't make a difference,
since no one knew where she was. She looked to the tub and decided to
give in to her basic needs. Stripping off her dirty dress, she
climbed in and savored the scented hot water.

She
was bathed and dressed, ready for William's return after an hour. He
held the door open for her dressed in a traveling suit, a dark gray
tweed.

“
You
clean up quite well,” he commented, taking in her new attire. “I
couldn’t have you looking like a street urchin on our travels. My
future wife must look worthy
of
my attentions, don’t you think?”

She
wore a crisp white blouse with a navy skirt. If her situation were
any different, she would be pleased with the new wardrobe. As it was,
she barely gave the new clothes much thought.

“
We’re
leaving now?” She gulped back her concern, hoping her voice didn’t
give her away. If she left Cranston, surely no one would be able to
find her.

“
We
need the protection darkness offers. Now my dear, I’m afraid I
can’t trust you to remain quiet. As I said before, you slipped away
from me once. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

It
took her only a moment to know what he meant. She backed away from
him, putting the large tub between them. “You’re not touching
me!”

“
Don’t
make this harder than it has to be. Bumps on your head will fade
quickly enough.” He replied so calmly, as if he wasn’t talking
about striking her unconscious. He walked toward her around one side
of the tub and she took the opportunity to sprint the other way past
him, through the open door.