Rocky Mountain Widow (Historical) (19 page)

One thing she would never forget was the gentle regard Joshua, a stranger, had paid her that night. Helping her up. Carrying her to the cabin. Rushing for the doctor.

Making sure Ham wouldn't hurt anyone again. But that didn't make him a murderer. If Joshua had killed him, then it had been self-defense. Not that she trusted
the sheriff to believe that. Not with the Hamiltons sneering in the back room.

The sheriff didn't seem interested as he asked, “Who helped you up from the wreckage?”

“I helped myself. I learned to do that a lot after I'd married Ham. He wasn't a good husband.”

A thud came from the next room. Reed was on his feet, his drunken howl so nearly identical to Ham's that it sent shivers creeping down her nape.

“Ham was a better man than the likes of her deserved!”

His temper seemed nearly the same, too.

“Sit down, Reed!” Logan snarled somewhere out of sight. His voice dropped into a whisper and she couldn't hear what he was saying. But she could feel it. Feel the malice in the dank, musty air. Feel the glee at their victory so close…and it did look as if they would win. The sheriff was on their side. She hadn't realized that until she'd walked into the jail and spotted the Hamiltons lying in wait.

“I went straight to bed and there I stayed until morning.”

“Alone?”

She remembered how Logan had hinted that she'd been unfaithful, so she was very firm in her answer. “Alone. Don't believe everything you hear, Sheriff. Some men have no decency, so telling a lie is nothing to them.”

“And it's the same for some women.” The sheriff pushed back his chair and stood, unfolding to his full height, but he wasn't as tall or as impressive as Joshua.

Joshua. Even here in the cool must of the town jail,
she thought of him. Her soul yearned for him, like a summer wildflower watching and waiting for the dawn.

The sheriff caught hold of the open cell door. “I'm charging you, Claire Hamilton, in the shooting death of your husband.”

Everything within her stilled. No, it couldn't be true. She'd done nothing wrong. At night anyone could have shot Ham. She was in the house, wounded and afraid she was losing the baby, which she had been. The doc had arrived, the rest of the night was foggy and vague. She'd awoken the next morning exhausted and hurting in more ways than she could count, and Ham was simply not there.

And if you say this, then those men will keep looking. They'll logically decide to question him next. And what if they find out the inconsistencies?

What if they discovered she'd lied to keep Joshua out of this mess? She loved him. How could she say the words that would ruin his life?

“Hey! Woman!” Reed lurched onto his feet, his hands fisting and his temper as hot as fresh coals. He crowded into the narrow space between the desks and the cells. “I'm gonna make sure you hurt. That was my brother you killed so you could play the bitch to high-and-mighty Gable.”

“Out of my way.” She lifted her chin, preparing for whatever came next. She wasn't afraid of being hit. She wasn't afraid of anything. Not anymore. She couldn't explain it as she shoved past Reed to take her place inside the empty cell.

The door clicked closed with a metallic snap, and the echo of it resounded off the stone walls and floors.

“You can't talk to me like that! Hey, Sheriff, she can't talk to me like that—”

Reed's words faded away. Claire felt her knees giving out and so she dropped onto the only piece of furniture, a cot—not comfortable at all—and listened to the final clicking turn of the key, locking her in like a criminal.

This can't be happening. She couldn't believe she was free one moment and jailed the next.

On the other side of the bars, the sheriff snapped his key ring onto his belt. “I expect you're using the Gable family's lawyer? Do you want me to send for him?”

Yes. She was scared inside. Joshua's cousin was an excellent attorney. He'd know what to do. He'd help her. He could get her out of here and prove that she'd had nothing to do with Ham's death.

And yet, would that only force Logan and the Hamiltons to accuse Joshua? What if he was here right now instead of her? He had the largest ranch in the county to run. He had his family to take care of and care for. Everyone in the Gable family depended on Joshua.

“I won't be needing my lawyer, thank you.”

“All right, then. I'd feel sorry for you, a woman locked up in a cell. But the truth is a man's dead because of you. Ham was a friend of mine, too. Believe me when I say I'm gonna make sure you get exactly what you deserve.”

Getting what those men thought she deserved…that's what she was afraid of.

J
oshua's back was killing him. Did his sister have to have such heavy furniture? He would have been grumbling about it, since he was so damned miserable anyway, but the arrival of Betsy's fiancé became a greater torment. Betsy was downstairs right now with the mountain man who was probably only interested in sweet Bets for her inheritance.

Red hazed his vision as he tamped down a dynamite rage. He heaved the feather mattress off the bed. It hit the floor with a boom that echoed in the rafters above.

Boots pounded up the stairs. Too fast of a gait for Jordan. Too powerful for quieter brother James. Joshua wasn't surprised to see Liam march into the room with his typical dour determination. “Got that headboard ready? No. What's wrong? I thought you'd have the whole house moved into those mountains by now.”

“I'm in no hurry to pack Betsy off to her new husband.”

“That Duncan isn't such a bad sort.” Liam caught the end of the headboard. “I got to talkin' to him downstairs.
He's not as lazy as you think. He's a woodworker. He sells furniture to several of the furniture stores in the county.”

“He's a mountain man.”

Joshua didn't want to like the man and he wouldn't. Nothing was going to change his mind. Too much was at risk for him to be swayed now. Claire Hamilton's misery at the hands of her husband had convinced him he was right.

Betsy might not listen to him—she might marry the man anyway—but Joshua was going to make damn sure that no man hurt his little sister. No matter what. That Liam had been taken in by this mountain man irked him even more. He wrenched on the braces and yanked the headboard from the frame.

“Whoa, brother. What did the bed to do you?”

He didn't answer.

“Oh, I know.” Liam shook his head and grabbed the footboard before it could tumble to the floor, leaving the fact that this was to be his sister's marriage bed unspoken between them. “Are you going to be able to give her away at the wedding? Or am I gonna have to get all dressed up in a coat and tie?”

“If it were up to me, I'd fly her up to the moon and banish her there.”

“But how do you know there aren't a bunch of mountain men who live on the back side of the moon? The minute you'd leave her there, if you could get her there, one of them would be bound to charm her into loving him.”

“I want her safe. I want her happy. I'd think, as her brother, that you'd want the same.”

“Sure I do. I want her happy. But we both know there's no such thing as safe. Not in this life. Living is a risk. Loving is a risk. That's why I'm not a courting man. Some risks are best to avoid. Others, well, you just can't.”

“It's always a wise decision to avoid women, romance and marriage.” Bitterness curdled on his tongue as he hefted the headboard toward the doorway.

“So that's what's got you in this foul mood.” Liam followed down the stairwell with the footboard. “What happened with Claire?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Well, then, I guess Ma won the bet.”

Joshua skidded to a halt. “Ma? Our mother does not gamble.”

“You'd be surprised. She bet that you would never marry Claire. She said that you won't marry anyone. Too stubborn. Too set in your ways. That you couldn't hand over that much control.”

“She didn't say that.” Although like a lock clicking into place, he knew the truth when he heard it. She'd hit the nail on the head, all right. That was why he'd walked away from Claire that night. Why he'd protect her, defend her, take care of her and befriend her, but why he'd never trust her enough for more. The notion terrified him. He was in control of his life. And he liked it that way.

So why did it only make him feel more desolate?

“If it's any consolation,” Liam continued as they pushed out onto the front porch, “Gran predicted you'd get Claire in a family way and have to marry her.”

Gran knew the look of a man who was falling hard,
Joshua realized. He hadn't fooled anyone—not one member of his family. He'd only tricked himself into believing he wasn't in love with Claire. And that it hadn't changed him. Of course, he wouldn't admit this to anyone, least of all his brothers. He was the head of the family; it wasn't by choice but by duty, and he'd gotten used to it. He had to shrug off this weakness, because the stronger he was, the better decisions he made for his family.

Except now that wasn't enough. There was nothing on this earth that could begin to patch up the hole Claire had left in his heart. And in his life.

He slid the bottom edge of the headboard onto the tailgate of Duncan's wagon and climbed up into the bed. From this height, he had a perfect view through the dining room window, where Betsy stood in her fiancé's embrace, gazing up into his face with all her loving heart.

What defeated him was the way the mountain man—the man he thought so disreputable and bad for Betsy—was gazing down at the woman in his arms. Strong. Protective. Deeply tender.

It was surely an illusion, a trick of the light. Joshua stubbornly refused to believe anything else. His own father had been miserable every day that Joshua could remember. Every day. Heaven knows he loved his mother, but she was a domineering woman who had pushed and henpecked and prodded Pa into outright misery.

Look at James. He couldn't even come help today because his wife had other plans for him. The same excuse she'd used for nearly every holiday and family gathering since their wedding day.

Joshua was in love with Claire. He couldn't deny it and wasn't going to pretend otherwise. He'd fallen, and he'd fallen so hard he could feel the beat of her heart within his own.

But he was making the right decision, to stay strong. He didn't need love. He didn't need her.

He didn't need anyone.

 

Claire huddled in her coat. Her breath rose in foggy clouds in front of her. How long had she been trapped with the walls creeping in? She had no notion. The sheriff was still at his desk, sipping steaming coffee. The scratch of his ink pen on paper filled the unending silence. What had seemed like infinity sitting here in the damp and dark could only have been a few hours at most.

What would it be like to live like this for days, weeks, months on end? Her stomach fisted. She was going to find out. Not that she liked that notion at all. What about Thor? He was left tied to the hitching post outside. She could hear the wind buffeting the thick stone walls and smell the plumes of smoke driven down the stovepipe from the harsh gusts. The temperature had to be falling. Was Thor cold? Thirsty? Afraid?

And what would become of Loki at home? She needed to send someone out to feed him. And her business…she didn't want to think of the duffels and bags of laundry she had yet to deliver today. And the dirties she'd intended to pick up.

She was an entrepreneur. She had responsibilities. Betsy had wanted to find someone dependable for her
loyal customers. And now Claire felt sick with the realization she'd let Betsy down.

Worse, she realized she'd never see Joshua again. Not even from a distance. Not to bump into him on the street. Nothing.

Why did love hurt so much, as if a noose had lassoed tightly about her heart and was dragging her behind a horse? Every inch of her stung. More than injury. More than heartache. More than grief could ever do alone.

What kind of love was this? She wanted this to be over. She wanted this to end. Why couldn't she will these feelings away? Even locked away from the world, she still felt the loss of him within every fiber of her being.

The whoosh of the wind and the rattle of the potbellied stove's door told her someone had arrived. The Hamiltons again? They'd warned that they would be back.

Only one pair of boots tromped on the plank floor. A fleeting hope flashed through her. Awareness skidded over her chilled skin like a summer breeze.

Joshua
. She could feel his presence like a voice in her soul. She straightened beneath the blanket she'd swaddled around her like a shawl, overwhelmed by the snap of awareness telegraphing down her spine.

The sheriff's pen continued to scratch, the fire to roar in the belly of the red-hot stove, but to her everything changed. She waited for him in the gray stone room beyond the cell, her spirit turning toward him like the earth to the moon in search of its light.

He's very near.
She felt the twisting recognition in the deep, private places of her soul. And she knew it was
Joshua before the sound of footsteps halted just outside the sheriff's office.

It's him.
Deep down, she celebrated the sight of him as he burst into the office, all fierce male energy, not violent, not frightening, no. It was a different kind of fierce. A different kind of fear. He stalked to the sheriff's desk like a soldier home from a victory, charging the room with his dazzling presence.

Well, Claire realized, maybe she was the only one dazzled.

“Gable. I didn't hear you come in.” The lawman looked annoyed that his work was being interrupted, his quill held midway between the inkwell and the paper. “Are you havin' more trouble with your sheep?”

“Not since Ham passed away. Funny thing, don't you think? I came to see why Claire's horse is tied up outside.” Joshua glanced around the small serviceable room. There was no sign of a woman—or of another person—in this place.

Panic began beating a quick rhythm in his chest. Was there a problem? Should he have dealt more harshly with the Hamiltons last night? It's just that he'd been sure the boys would back down. The last thing they could afford was to spend more time in jail calming down—

Something caught his attention. There in the dusky corner of one of the two cells. A shape too small to be a man, too fine boned to be an adolescent. If he squinted just right, he could see her familiar, delicate profile sitting on a battered cot on the far side of the cell, huddled beneath a shapeless blanket, her lustrous hair tumbling everywhere.

Claire.
All the misery fled from his heart. All the darkness from his core. His entire being pulsed with life, as if he'd awakened after a long slumber.

He could still feel the space she'd claimed in his soul. How unlikely was that? He'd done everything he could to rip her from his very spirit and nothing, not one thing, could diminish the brightness she'd put in his heart.

“What are you doing in there?” Fury roiled as he put the pieces together. Logan and the Hamiltons had gone against him, discounting his threats. How could she be arrested for the theft of her own horse? “Sheriff, there's a problem here. Get your keys.”

“Sorry, Gable. There's no mistake.”

“Bull. Claire doesn't belong there.” Joshua turned to her, his manner reassuring and kind. “Don't worry, baby, I'll get you out of this.” He seemed unaware of the endearment as he stormed over to the sheriff's desk and pounded his fist on the wood surface.

The pen flew from the lawman's grip. “Whoa, there, Gable. Don't you go blamin' me for this.”

“She's innocent, and you damn well know it.” Joshua seemed to rear up like a furious grizzly; he was taller, stronger, and so fierce the stone walls vibrated with his raw fury.
“Give me the keys.”

“Watch it, Gable.”

The sheriff's warning bounced off him like hail—he wasn't scared of the lawman. He was too enraged at the sight of the woman he loved—no, the woman he didn't want to love—locked in a cage like a rabbit in a trap. He seized the ring from the lawman's belt, yanked and fumbled through the keys on the way to the cell.

The sheriff was shouting something, but Joshua didn't care. He only knew he had to get to her. He'd failed to protect and defend her. By God, he would not fail her now.

The key turned, the door opened and he tossed the ring back at the sheriff. The lawman's mouth moved, but Joshua couldn't hear anything above the roar of fury in his ears and the thrum of urgency in his heartbeat. He was barely aware of the cold biting his skin and stinging his eyes as he dropped onto his knees before her.

“Claire.” Emotion choked him. For a man who didn't have feelings, they were spewing up as if from a newly dug well, rising higher and higher until he was swimming in them. The raw, dark pain he'd been living with died the instant he took her small hand in his. So cold, so vulnerable, so dear. He pressed his lips to her knuckles and lost hold of his heart. Uncontrollable affection left him drowning.

And like a man swept into a flooding river, there was no firm ground to stand on, no way to swim to shore, no chance in hell to stop the force of the current that had seized him. He was a drowning man lost as he laid his face in her lap, so grateful just to be near her. Just to know she was going to be all right. He'd make sure of it.

“You can't be here.” Her fingers squeezed his tightly, holding on as if she were drowning, too. “It's not good for you.”

“Me? You're the one in here.” It was killing him seeing her, so good and gentle in spirit, punished like this. “I will not let you be condemned. Don't you worry. I'm here now.”

“That's the problem. You can't be here. Logan knows somehow that you were at my place the night that Ham was shot. I guess I never thought about it. Of course he was shot. That's how he died.”

“Haskins is the only doctor in the county, Claire. His brother is the undertaker.” Joshua pitched his voice low, so the sheriff couldn't hear, but the lawman had marched out of sight, probably to bring in reinforcements. “They made sure the cause of death was blamed on a fall, not a bullet. Ham was shot in the back. I'm sure it was self-defense, Claire. The doc, hell, even the undertaker knows that. Anyone with eyes could see how Ham treated you.”

“What? Me? I don't understand. Surely you're not trying to blame me? Not when you—” No, that wasn't right. Joshua would never betray her like that. The moment she thought it, she discarded it. Ham would have gladly blamed her for a murder and sent her in his stead to jail, but not Joshua. Not noble, honest, decent Joshua. “I thought you—”