Outlaw's Bride (28 page)

An hour later, after a hot bath, a fresh shave, and a change of clothes, Clint found the nearest saloon. He bought a bottle of whiskey and retired to a corner table to do some serious drinking. He downed the first and second shots without pause, but allowed the third to sit untouched in the middle of the table.

For four weeks he'd scoured the area, searching for a sign of the man who rode the palomino. Some folks remembered the horse, but they weren't certain what the man looked like. Clint had gotten so close to the bastard, then the killer had escaped. Again.

He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed the third shot. Glancing around, he saw the same people he came across in every other saloon. Only the faces changed.

He was so damned tired of this existence, of the frustration and the loneliness. Ever since leaving Mattie, he'd become little more than a husk of a man, his insides shriveled and dead. Only the promise of vengeance kept him going, and that was fraying with the growing hopelessness of his quest.

He dreamed of holding Mattie, then woke to find his arms as empty as his soul. How much longer could he continue, not living, but not dead, either?

“Buy me a drink, stranger?”

Clint glanced up to see a redhead wearing a knee-length green dress standing beside him. He hadn't even noticed her approach. That kind of sloppiness could make a man dead. He smiled only with his mouth. “As long as you don't mind sharing.”

She arched a penciled eyebrow. “I'm good at sharing.”

As she lowered herself to a chair, Clint filled the shot glass and pushed it across the table's scarred surface.

She picked it up. “To new friends.”

Clint tapped her glass with the neck of the brown bottle. “And old.”

He tipped the whiskey to his lips and took a long swallow. The liquor was starting to work its magic, relaxing his limbs and filling the emptiness within him.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Sally.”

Clint eyed the woman. Her red hair was obviously from a bottle, but at least she was clean. She looked young, maybe eighteen or nineteen, but her eyes were twenty years older. “You been here long?”

“Long enough to know what a man like you likes.” She dragged the tip of her tongue across her lips. The erotic invitation would have sent his blood straight to his groin two months ago, before he met Mattie. Now he only felt pity that a girl so young knew what men like him liked.

“Then you should know that all I want right now is whiskey,” he said.

Disappointment slipped across her features, but the more familiar cynicism quickly replaced it. “Sure. But if you get a hankerin' for more than liquor, just let me know.”

She stood, but Clint didn't watch her leave. He had a decision to make, and for that, he only needed whiskey.

Mattie paused on the boardwalk outside the Green Valley Mercantile and glanced at her list. Her gaze flitted across the diamond ring on her left hand. Ever since Kevin had given it to her four days ago, she couldn't keep her eyes from straying to it. The ring was more than she deserved, and every time her gaze fell upon it a tiny sliver of guilt stabbed her.

They'd set the wedding for the last Sunday in September, two weeks and one day away. The baby would arrive seven months after they were married, but Kevin reassured her no one would question his word that the birth had been early. After all, he was the doctor.

“We going in or not?” Andy asked, a whine in his tone.

Mattie paused to give him a scolding look. “Not if you're going to act like that, young man.” Ever since she'd announced that she and Kevin were getting married, Andy had become sullen and hostile. She'd tried to find out what was bothering him, but her son remained tight-lipped.

Andy scowled but held his tongue.

She knew Andy missed Clint, but that still didn't explain or excuse his behavior. He was old enough to understand.

To understand what? That his mother was marrying a man she didn't love because the man she did love was gone forever? That his mother was carrying another man's baby and had sold her soul to give the child a name?

That his mother was worse than a liar?

Mattie's fingers crumpled the list in her hand. She hated this feeling of dread that accompanied her thoughts of this pending marriage. But she'd given Kevin her word, and she had never gone back on a promise before. She wasn't about to start now.

She walked through the open door into the general store, with Andy trailing behind her. He had healed completely from the ankle injury and had no lasting effects. True to form, he made a beeline for the front of the store where the jars of candy and rows of jackknives resided behind a glass counter.

“Good morning, Mattie. I hear congratulations are in order for you and Dr. Murphy,” Jane Swanson said with a genuine smile.

Mattie's cheeks heated. “That's right. We're getting married two weeks from tomorrow.”

Jane came around from behind the counter. Nearly as big as a rain barrel, the woman was as friendly as she was round, and Mattie had always liked her. “I heard. Reverend Lister was in here earlier. I guess Dr. Murphy talked to him yesterday about the ceremony.”

Mattie's smile froze on her lips. Kevin had discussed their wedding with the minister without her?

The older woman patted Mattie's hand. “I'm so happy for you. I was beginning to despair—nearly ten years as a widow, when you could've caught a man whenever you wanted.”

Mattie laughed. “I didn't want a man before C—Kevin.” Her heart skipped a beat. Less than a week since the engagement, and she'd almost spilled the beans. She'd have to watch herself much closer.

Jane winked. “You caught yourself a good one. Dr. Murphy is the salt of the earth. Did I ever tell you about the time he saved Oscar's life?”

“Once or twice.” It was closer to ten or twenty times, but Mattie didn't want to hurt Jane's feelings.

“Oh, that's right, I have,” Jane said with a wave of her pudgy hand. “Now, what can I get for you today?”

Mattie rattled off the items on her list, and they had the counter covered in less than five minutes.

Andy pointed to a jar of cinnamon sticks. “Can I have one of those, Ma?”

“I'm sorry, Andy, but we can't afford it.”

Jane smiled and dug into the jar, pulled a stick out, and handed it to the boy. “Here you go.”

Andy took it eagerly and thrust one end into his mouth.

“What do you say?” Mattie reminded.

“Thank you,” he said around the candy.

Mattie rolled her eyes. “Some days I just don't know about him.”

“Don't worry. They grow out of it,” Jane said. “Let me get William to carry this out for you.” She turned to the back and bellowed, “William!”

Mattie's ears rang, but she managed a smile for the lanky boy who joined them. “Thank you. I appreciate your help. Andy, give William a hand, please.”

Andy picked up the smaller box and followed the older boy out of the store.

“He's growing so fast,” Jane commented.

“William?”

“Your Andy. He looks more and more like Jason, too.”

Mattie nodded, but her thoughts were on the babe she carried. Would the infant look more like Clint or herself? She hoped the child took after her, to spare Kevin the embarrassment of a son or daughter who didn't resemble him at all.

“I'll see you in church on Sunday,” Jane said as she took the money for the goods.

Mattie smiled. “See you then.”

She walked outside and glanced up and down the main street. Seeing the same people she'd seen for the past twenty years should have soothed her, but her breath faltered. She didn't like herself for the deception she had to live. History was repeating itself, but this time the townsfolk didn't know about her impropriety. Mattie herself had made the choice to marry.

Thinking of Kevin reminded her that she had to speak to him about his meeting with the reverend. Annoyance flared, but she quickly doused it. Kevin was only trying to make things easier for her by taking care of the details. She just wished he had told her his plans.

“Andy,” she called.

He looked over from where he sat on the end of the wagon, swinging his feet back and forth as he ate his candy. “Yeah?”

“I have to go talk to Kevin. Would you like to come with me?”

Andy shook his head, his nose wrinkling. “Can I stay around town for a little while? I wanna see Buck and Josh.”

“Are all the chores done?”

“I'll go on home and do them.”

Her son had kept his promise to Clint about helping her more around the house, and Mattie was grateful for that. She eyed her son a moment. “How would you like to drive the wagon back?”

Andy's face lit up. “Can I?”

“You've been practicing a lot and I think it's time I start letting the man of the house take over some of the responsibilities.”

“I'll be careful, Ma. And when I get home, I'll carry the stuff inside, then I'll get Herman to help me unhitch Polly.”

The mature words coming out of a mouth stuffed with a candy stick brought a bittersweet smile to Mattie's face. Andy was at an awkward age—caught between boyhood and manhood—without a father to lead him down the correct path. That would change soon.

She patted Andy's shoulder. “I know you will. I'll be home after I talk to Kevin.”

Andy's enthusiasm dimmed. If Mattie had been marrying Clint, she suspected Andy would be delighted.

And how would
she
feel? She quickly erased the thought.

I'm not being fair to Kevin.

She watched her son clamber up into the wagon seat and pick up the reins. Trepidation flared in Mattie, but she quickly doused it. Clint had been right—she had been treating Andy like a baby instead of a boy taking the first step into adulthood. She had to allow him to make his own mistakes and learn his own lessons.

Andy kept a firm grip on the reins, sending Mattie a nod instead of a wave as he cautiously headed the wagon back home.

She smiled proudly, then continued across the street to Kevin's office.

One problem at a time.

Clint noticed the color changes of the leaves as he neared the outskirts of Green Valley. The town appeared the same as it had when he'd left nearly five weeks ago. The familiar buildings came into view and he swallowed the odd lump in his throat.

A bottle of whiskey in a nameless town had given him the courage to return. He wasn't giving up his search for Emily's killer as much as he was wanting to see Mattie again. In fact, he hadn't thought much beyond telling Mattie how much he cared for her. Her reaction to his confession would determine his next move.

He swept his gaze across the dusty street, noting the wagons and horses lining the street. It must be Saturday. He'd lost track of the days since he'd left Mattie's.

He spotted a familiar figure coming out of the doctor's office and his heart leapt into his throat. Mattie. Reining Dakota, he drank in the sight of her—from her hair, which caught and spun the sunshine into bluish threads, to her pointy-toed boots. Her footsteps were firm and decisive, and her shoulders proudly erect.

He'd made the right decision by coming back.

A horse's shrill neigh made him glance up sharply to see two men running out of the bank, scarves around the lower part of their faces.

“Shit,” Clint muttered.

Sheriff Atwater barreled down the boardwalk, drawing his gun as he ran. Clint's attention switched to Mattie, who had stopped to see what was going on.

His heart stumbled. She was directly across the street from the bank—where she could easily be hit by a stray bullet if this turned into a gun battle.

As if reading his thoughts, one of the robbers fired the first shot at Atwater. The next moment the air was filled with screams and gunshots. Clint kicked Dakota's belly and the horse leapt into motion, heading down the street toward Mattie. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw Atwater stagger. Had he been hit?

Ten feet from Mattie, Clint jerked back hard on the reins. He jumped out of the saddle and hurtled himself at her, his right arm snagging her waist and drawing her into the building behind them.

Vaguely aware of her pale face and huge violet eyes, Clint said, “Stay here.”

She nodded wordlessly.

Clint drew his Colt and charged back onto the boardwalk. The two thieves had managed to mount their horses, though one of them looked like he'd been shot. Atwater slumped behind a water trough; Clint couldn't tell if the man was dead or alive.

Clint raised his weapon and fired a couple of quick rounds at the escaping bandits. Their returning fire forced him to dive behind a barrel. They thundered past him and Clint sat up, took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger. One of the men jerked, then tumbled from his horse. Startled, the other robber looked back, giving Clint the moment he needed to squeeze off another shot. The second man slumped over his horse's neck, then slid to the ground.