Dorothy Garlock (37 page)

When his beloved weight pressed her gently but securely to the bed, she could feel the pounding of his heart against her breast. Without hesitation their bodies joined in mutual, frantic need. She welcomed the hard insistent pressure when he entered her body, and an almost unbelievable pleasure swept through her.

She was aware of nothing but the broad shoulders she clung to, heard nothing but the low murmur of love words that poured from his mouth before it covered hers. Then she was beyond seeing or hearing as she slipped into uncharted but beautiful oblivion.

Minutes passed before Corbin, still deep inside her, raised himself on his elbows and gazed into her face. He brushed back her hair with gentle fingers.

“Well, what do you think, Mrs. Appleby?”

“I think I made the perfect choice when I chose you to be my husband.” She giggled happily. Her tongue darted out to taunt a tiny spot at the corner of his mouth before retreating.

“I wanted it to last longer.”

“If it had, I might have died of pleasure.”

“I was afraid that I’d hurt you so badly, you’d never want me again.”

“Fat chance of that. It did hurt, but only for a minute. It doesn’t hurt now. It feels wonderful. Do you suppose we made a baby?”

“We could have. Would you mind?”

“I want lots of babies. Your babies. I wished for brothers and sisters when I was growing up.”

Corbin moved to her side and gathered her to him, cradling her head on his chest. His hands stroked her body gently, his breathing slower, his heart quieter beneath her palm. They fell into a warm, languid silence, both of them awed by the glorious thing that had happened between them.

More content, happier than he could remember ever being, Corbin molded Annabel to his side and pulled her arm across his hard, flat stomach. His hand caressed her breast. She captured it and held it there.

“Corbin.” Her voice came drowsily from beneath his chin. “I’m so happy.”

“So am I, love.” He moved his other hand down her side and patted her bare bottom affectionately.

Feeling wonderfully loved and happily relaxed, Annabel closed her eyes on the most wonderful night of her life and drifted into a dreamlike state halfway between sleep and awareness, her mouth uplifted in a tired but happy smile.

Annabel was awakened by a tickling on the end of her nose. Drowsily, she realized she was lying on her back and Corbin, propped on an elbow, was looking at her and teasing the end of her nose with the tip of his finger.

“You’re mean.”

His laugh was low, tender and happy. She felt his breath on her face, then his lips. They moved over her chin to her mouth. The tip of his tongue traced her lips before he kissed her.

“Mornin’. Did you have a good sleep?”

“I hardly slept at all. A man kept waking me up.”

“What was he doing?”

“He kept kissing me and biting me on the neck.”

“Did you like it?”

“Ah … it was all right, I guess.”

“Only all right?” Corbin’s fingers skimmed over her ribs. She squirmed and giggled.

Suddenly aware the sheet had slipped down to her waist, she reached for it to cover her breasts. His hand stilled hers.

“Don’t be shy with me, sweet wife. Let me look at them. They’re so pretty. You’re so pretty.” His voice was low and tender. “Open your eyes, love.”

She watched as he ran his fingertips over her breasts, then bent his head to kiss them. A strange and exciting feeling unfolded in the center of her being, and she let out a little gasp of pleasure.

His eyes held hers as he pulled her over until her soft stomach was pressed to his hard one, and suddenly he was inside her again.

“How did that happen so fast?” she murmured, her lips seeking his and opening over his mouth with drugged sweetness.

“Did you want it to happen?”

“Uh-huh.” The pressure inside thrilled her. She whispered incoherent words of love and tightened her arms about him. “Does it feel as good to you as it does to me?” She arched against him.

“It’s pure … heaven. You’re so incredibly sweet. Sweetheart, I want never, never to make this trip to heaven alone. I want you to always be with me, feeling this with me.”

Her body felt boneless. He fit every inch of it against his. This was her husband, her lover, her mate for life. She felt herself being swept away on a cloud, climbing, climbing into the sky until they reached that sunlit moment of glorious shared completion.

Chapter
27

A
FTER DECIDING THAT THEY COULDN’T KEEP their presence in town a secret for much longer because the hotel staff would spread the news about their marriage, Annabel and Corbin ate breakfast in the hotel dining room. They decided the best protection they had until the marshal arrived would be to make sure they were among other people.

There was little comfort in knowing that Arnold Potter was unaware that they knew of his connection with the mobsters or that he had a sidekick in town. He had seen Corbin’s burned-out car, and Marvin had said that he was there to see Annabel. To make sure that he had a means of defense, Corbin carried his gun in a shoulder holster and wore a light coat to cover it.

After receiving the congratulations of the hotel staff, Corbin and Annabel wandered out onto the hotel veranda and watched the activity on the street. People were coming into town. Saturday was a busy day in Henderson.

“Shall we walk, honey, or would you rather stay here?”

“I’d rather be moving. It’ll make the time go faster.”

With her hand tucked firmly in the crook of his arm, they walked toward the center of town. Corbin’s heart swelled with pride. This was the first day of their married life. They would live out the rest of their days together, grow old together. Never again would he awaken to a day of loneliness stretching out before him. He wanted to shout to everyone they passed that this wonderful, vibrant girl was his wife.

They passed the barbershop. The two chairs were occupied. Stoney Baker, the sheriff, sat with his back to the window reading the paper. The shoeshine boy lounged in his chair, waiting for a customer.

“Shine, mistah?”

“Not today.” Corbin flipped him a penny and received a broad smile in return.

A lady stepped out from the millinery shop and eyed them curiously. Corbin tipped his hat and they walked on. When they reached the picture show, they stopped to read the poster advertising the film: RUDOLPH VALENTINO IN “MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE” WITH BEBE DANIELS.

“He’s handsome, but not as handsome as you.” Annabel tilted her head and smiled up at him.

“Are you flirting with me?” Corbin asked with a serious frown.

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Honey, Mr. Potter is headed this way,” he whispered quickly.

“Oh, no! What’ll we do?”

“Nothing. He’ll not do anything here.”

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Appleby. Let me offer my congratulations.” Potter approached them with his hand extended.

Corbin shook his hand. “Thank you. Word gets around fast.”

“Good news travels fast in a friendly town. I hope you plan to make your home here.” His eyes focused on Annabel. “I warn you, my dear, I’m determined that you play in my band. A violin would be a wonderful addition.”

“I don’t think so. I … couldn’t.” Annabel shook her head and shrank against Corbin.

“My wife is bashful,” Corbin said with a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do about persuading her. She plays beautifully.”

“I’d love to hear her play sometime.”

“We must be getting on. We have errands. Good day.”

“Same to you folks. Will you be leaving soon?”

“We haven’t decided.”

“I hope you stay. Good day to you.” Mr. Potter tipped his hat and walked on.

Corbin turned back to look at the theater poster so that he could watch Potter out of the corner of his eye. When the chubby little man turned into the barbershop, Corbin urged Annabel on down the walk. She was shivering.

“How can that evil, nasty man be so … so friendly to us? Yesterday he told that man to kill Marvin with no more concern than if he told him to step on an ant. He would’ve had him kill us if he’d known we were there.”

“Don’t fret, sweetheart. Marshal Sanford will know how to handle him.”

At the end of the block they crossed the street and looked in the window of the photo studio. Displayed in the window were family pictures, wedding and baby pictures.

“Let’s go in and get our picture taken. We’ll have one to remember the day after our wedding.”

“Oh, no. Corbin, I look a sight. My hair—”

“You look just right. I want to remember you as you look today … all flushed from our loving.”

“Corbin!”

“Come on, honey. We’ll have a formal picture taken later on.”

Before Annabel could protest further, Corbin’s hand was on her elbow and he was ushering her through the door. The walls of the studio were covered with pictures in large square or oval ornate frames. Camera equipment, background screens, chairs, stools and other props were at the back of the room. A small table, cluttered with albums and a variety of small tools, stood beside one wall.

Alex Lemon, whom Corbin had seen at the barbershop, came to the door from a room at the back.

“Hello, folks. Look around. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

“We’re in no hurry. Take your time.”

Annabel looked at herself critically in the mirror that hung over the table. She removed the barrette from her hair and placed it on the table while she combed her short hair back with her fingers. Pulling it aside and holding it with one hand, she fumbled with the other to find the barrette on the table. Failing to find it, she looked down when her fingers moved over a heavy object on a pile of papers. Forgetting about the hair fastener, she picked up the object and froze.

She had seen and held a heavy brass object such as this many, many times since her childhood. Her father had carried one with him. She turned to look at the end. Then she dropped it onto the stack of papers and grabbed Corbin’s arm.

“Come on! Please—” She tugged him toward the door.

“What is it? Honey?”

“Let’s go!”

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” The voice came from the end of the studio.

“My wife … has decided to wait. She’s not happy with how she looks. We’ll come back another time.” Corbin tossed the words over his shoulder as he hurried out the door to catch up with Annabel. “Honey, wait.” After several quick steps, he was at her side and peering into her face.

Tears streamed from her eyes.

“What is it? What has upset you?” He turned her so that her back was to the street.

“Papa’s … brass knuckles are in there.”

“Are you sure?” He took her arm and they moved around the corner.

“I’m sure! I’m sure! He always carries the knuckles with him. He had them with him when he left for St. Louis. I saw him put them in his pocket.”

“How do you know they are his?”

“There was a knife blade on one end at one time. Papa had it taken off and … complained it was not a very good job. One end was rough. I know they are Papa’s. How did that photographer get them?”

Corbin pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. “We’ll go back to the hotel, but first wipe your eyes, honey. We don’t want folks to see you cry. They may start wondering about us, and we don’t want to attract undue attention.”

“What’ll we do?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“We’ll wait for the marshal, then he and I will talk to Lemon.” He hurried her past the barbershop and on toward the hotel.

“Papa has been gone a week,” she said as they went up the steps to the veranda. “I’m afraid something has happened.”

“Has he been gone this long before?”

“A few times.”

A touring car had stopped in front of the hotel. Corbin edged Annabel toward the small cluster of people on the porch. He watched as four men got out of the car. One untied the canvas tarp that covered the rack on top of the car. He handed down a couple of suitcases and cases that obviously held musical instruments. Corbin took them to be a traveling dance band; but after a closer look, when he recognized the big man who wore a battered big-brimmed hat, he moved Annabel toward the door.

As the group approached to go into the hotel lobby, Marshal Sanford looked directly at Corbin.

In their room, Corbin locked the door before he turned to Annabel, who had sunk down on the side of the bed.

“Marshal Sanford is here. He was one of the four men in the touring car—the one with gray hair.”

“He didn’t look like a marshal.”

“No, he didn’t. I think he has federal marshals with him. They are traveling as a dance band.”

“You’ve got to tell him about that man who has Papa’s brass knuckles.”

“I will. Don’t worry so, sweetheart.”

“I can’t help it. Papa wouldn’t have given away those brass knuckles willingly.”

“We’ll lay it all out to the marshal. He’ll know what to do.”

The words had no more than left Corbin’s mouth when a knock sounded on the door. He unlocked and opened it, expecting to see the marshal. Jack stood there with a silly grin on his face.

“Jack. Come in.”

“Sorry to bust in on the honeymoon.”

“What’s happened?”

“Spinner took a turn for the worse last night. This morning Boone and I carried him down to the truck and brought him in to the doctor. He and Tess are over there now.”

Annabel got to her feet. “Is he that bad off?”

“Boone thought so.”

“Maybe I should go over there.”

“Let’s talk to the marshal first. That’s probably him,” Corbin said as another knock sounded on the door. He opened it. Marshal Sanford and another man came into the room.

Corbin introduced Annabel as his wife and received the marshal’s congratulations. Marshal Sanford remembered Jack from Fertile. They shook hands. The stranger was Bill McGiboney, a federal marshal out of the St. Louis office. Annabel, Corbin and the marshal sat down on the edge of the bed. The other marshal took the chair; Jack squatted on his heels.

It took Corbin a half hour to tell everything he could remember about what had happened the past several days. He called on Annabel to help fill in details. Jack told what he knew about Spinner being almost beaten to death, about his blowing up the cave and then making it to the cabin.