The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (8 page)

As he had the night before, he took her hand and said a quick prayer.  When he finished, both of them began to eat.

After they had both eaten their fill, Boden rose.

“I’d like to show you around the place if you’re ready for a little walk.”  He offered his arm.

Unsure of touching him, Willow hung back a beat longer than intended.  He began to relax his arm to his side, but Willow took it before he could fully retract it.  This man could harm her whether or not she accepted his arm.  And whether she liked it or not, he was now her husband until death parted them.

“Some fresh air sounds good,” she said.

With that, they stepped outside.  A gentlemanly arm steadied Willow’s descent down the stairs.  Once they reached the ground, Boden bent and drew a square in the soil and placed a B within it.

“That’s my brand.  Any cattle bearing it belong to me.  It’s a small operation now, but I plan on expanding.”

Willow recognized the obvious pride he felt for his ranch.  Looking about, she saw it was something to take pride in.  The barnyard was muddy, but the sun was shining, and Willow enjoyed the warmth of the day.  She had been trapped inside for far too long.

“Nice day,” Boden said quietly.

Willow turned his way and smiled.  “It is.”

“Well, here it is, the Box B,” Ezra said as he stopped in the center of the barnyard.

Willow thought Boden’s ranch looked well cared for and peaceful.  The house sat on the side of a gently sloping hill.  It had wood siding and real glass windows.  A porch extended across the front of the building, offering shade on a hot summer’s day and shelter on a rainy one.  The house was rather large as far as homes went, and Willow could only gather that Boden had done quite well for himself as a bounty hunter.

The barn was sizeable as well.   It rested where the land flattened out again.  The loft doors hung open, revealing piled hay stored within the well-stocked loft.  The double doors below were also open, allowing a cross breeze to flow in one side of the barn and out the other.  Corrals of various shapes and sizes surrounded the barn.  Posts had been planted deep within the soil and barbed wire had been strung between them to form the fencing.

The novelty caused Willow to comment, “Barbed wire?  I thought all ranchers hated the stuff.”

“I don’t use it on the range, but I found it works well around the barn.  It’s easy enough to hang. Though I do worry the livestock will get cut up on it.”

Willow nodded; barbed wire had been known to injure more than a few livestock.  She turned her attention back to her surroundings.  The grass was a deep emerald this time of year, and there was plenty of it.  Tall cottonwoods ran to the left of the house and the barnyard, and Willow supposed a creek must run near the house. That would explain why there were so many trees around Boden’s home.

And his home compared to nothing
Willow had lived in since her captivity–run down farmhouses, lean-tos, soddies, cabins.  Most had been rat-infested, leaky, and dirty.

Willow
offered her praise, “It’s beautiful.”

She tried to read Boden’s expression, but failed.  She couldn’t tell if her compliment pleased him or not.  She could usually read men’s faces.  That gift had kept her in control in dangerous situations and most of all alive.  And now she couldn’t read this man who was her husband by law.

Shaking off her worries, Willow matched his long strides and soaked up the surroundings.  The air smelled rich here, and she marveled at the effort Boden had obviously put into his home.  The fences were straight, the chicken coop freshly roofed, the barn painted a brilliant red.

The only thing missing was a family.  The thought took Willow unawares, and her breath caught in her throat.  When she’d married Boden, she hadn’t considered children.  What if he ended up being as evil as Roberts?  Watching her children suffer abuse would be much harder to bear.  She stumbled in her distress.

“What’s wrong?” Boden gazed down at her, halting their walk.

Her hands shook despite the fact her mind willed them to steady.  She drew her hand from Boden’s arm.  She searched for an excuse other than the truth.  She decided on “I’m just feeling a bit weak.”

“Then let me help you,” he moved to replace her hand on his arm, but Willow took a hasty step back, evading him.

She should most likely do as he asked.  It would save her pain later.  Yet she was sick of tiptoeing around violent tempers.  Hadn’t she done that for three long years?

Well, she wasn’t about to spend the following years of her life sidestepping confrontations with the great Butcher Boden.  If she started this relationship by fighting back, she’d know where she stood.

And if she were still standing, she’d be able to live a life without fear.

She looked up into Boden’s eyes and willed herself to speak her mind–she didn’t want to take his arm.  Her tongue couldn’t find the words, however.

He took her arm again and continued guiding her about his ranch.  He didn’t mention her awkwardness again, and she felt herself relaxing once more as he told her about the workings of the Box B.  He explained how his ranch hands lived in homes spread out on the Box B, each protecting their portion of the spread. Boden explained how his foreman, Nathan, shared the closest home with his two boys, Marshall and Benjamin.
Willow was glad the other men lived acres away, but she remained the only woman on all of five thousand acres.

The only woman for miles.

That thought did stop her in her tracks.  Why had Boden entered that contest?  Suddenly the not knowing became worse than the knowing.  When Boden glanced down at her, she finally found the words.

“What do you have planned for me?” Her heart hammered in her chest, and she wished the question back.

He looked at her oddly a moment before asking, ‘“What do I have planned for you?’”

She nodded, indicating he’d heard her right.

“I don’t think I understand what you mean, Willow,” he stated and waited for her to explain.

She looked down at her shaking hands and fought to stop their quaking.  “I mean, will I be your wife, only your woman?”

A look of understanding came into Boden’s eyes then only to be followed by ice in his gaze.  Her hands intensified their shivering.

“You, Willow Boden, will be only my woman,” he stated, steel in his voice.  “You will share only my bed, be touched by only my hand, and you will never have reason to fear me.”

He had finally understood her question, and she had her answer, at least his verbal answer.  Only his actions would reveal what type of man he truly was.  Until he demonstrated his sincerity, Willow needed just a bit more reassurance.

“You won’t share me with anyone else?”

“Hell, no,” Boden said quickly and vehemently.

Relief flooded
Willow.

“Roberts probably loved how easy you are to read,” Boden said, looking down at her with anguish in his eyes
Willow didn’t understand.

His comment took her off guard.  “I don’t think he loved anything about me.”

“Perhaps ‘loved’ was the wrong word.”  Boden thought for a moment.  “He took advantage of your openness.”

That wasn’t the only thing he took advantage of
, Willow thought dismally.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Nothing,” Boden said before steering her back to the house.

“What do you mean?” She dared to balk, and he looked back down at her again.  She suddenly feared she’d gone too far.

He raised his hand.

Fear flooded her, but she refused to back down.

He brushed a bothersome tendril of hair off of her face.  “That’s what I mean.  Your face shows your every emotion.  Just now it was fear.”

Willow swallowed hard.  It was true.  Unlike Boden, she hid no emotion.

Boden continued, “I’ve watched men over the years.  Some men enjoy watching others suffer.  You’d have given Roberts the show he wanted–one of pain and fear.  One that made a small man like him feel big.”

Willow shivered slightly.  Boden’s description of Roberts was astute.  She’d worked hard to keep her emotions hidden.  Obviously she hadn’t succeeded as well as she’d supposed.

“Hey.”  Boden’s rough finger hooked under her chin and drew her gaze up to his.  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” she said and smiled slightly at him.  “I just thought I’d gotten better at hiding what I was feeling.”

“Maybe you did and now you’re starting to let your defenses down.”

Heaven help her if he was right.  She needed to keep her wits about her.  It was too soon to trust this man. No matter what he promised her.

Seeming to notice her unease, Boden asked, “Would you like to sit here on the porch for a while?  You’ve been cooped up quite a bit lately.”

“I’d like that.” She wasn’t yet up to long excursions or long discussions.  Her legs were weakening, and she leaned hard on Boden.

Boden stopped their progress on the porch stairs.  He helped her down onto the porch steps with one hand, while he swept with another at an already clean step. “Will this do? I haven’t got a porch swing or anything.”

She nodded.

Boden joined her there once she sat.  He didn’t crowd her on the step, but kept his distance. It wasn’t easy with his long legs.  They stretched two stairs below the one on which they sat, and he rested an elbow on each knee.

“Your ranch is very nice,” Willow said, feeling she should try to broach the silence she had imposed.

“Thanks,” he said.  He looked at her from the corner of his eye.  “I’d always dreamed of ranching.”

“Really?”  She wanted to ask him why he’d become a bounty hunter if ranching had been his dream.

“Yeah.  Believe it or not, bounty hunting wasn’t my first choice,” Boden said.  He looked her full in the face then.  “I like the life of a rancher much better.”

“Well, you must have been a good bounty hunter.  Seems near everyone has heard of you.”

He sighed.  “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been quite so good.  There’s nothing to like about hunting down other men for a living.”

“That’s something Roberts would have liked to do–exert his power over others.”  It was something he had done.  That thought led Willow to another question, “What’s it feel like to be strong?”

He studied her for a moment before asking, “What makes you ask that?”

“Men are the strongest.  I just wonder what that feels like.”

“I’m not sure we feel as strong as you think,” Ezra said, evidently not quite understanding her reasoning.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s an awful lot of pressure to have to protect yourself and others, appear strong.”

“Well, at least you’ve got a chance.”

“And you haven’t got a chance?”

“A woman standing on her own is vulnerable, open for attack,” she returned.  Maybe she was pushing this topic too far too soon, but it was proving interesting, and he didn't seem to be bothered by her questions.

“You’ve got a point there,” he said thoughtfully.  “But surely you’ve felt free and strong at times.”

“Sure I have, but it didn’t take someone long to show me I wasn’t.  A woman walks into a group of men and she knows that generally the weakest one can still do her harm, but a man in the same situation at least knows he’s got a fighting chance.”

“I never looked at it that way,” Ezra admitted.

“I’ve rambled,” Willow said, turning shy and looking away.

Ezra looked straight at her.  His words came soft and low, “Don’t be shy with me.”

Willow stopped, motionless.  “I’m afraid I can’t help it.  I’ve spent a long time keeping silent. Talking openly now feels strange.”

“It shows your courage that you’re doing so now.”

“My courage?”

“Yep.  That’s why I couldn’t leave you back in
Devils Lake.  You’re one heck of a woman, fighting for your life even when the odds weren’t in your favor.”

“I was scared.”  Willow could hardly believe he thought she was courageous.

“That’s why it took so much courage for you to spit in French’s face, fight those men, hit me in the back of the head.”  He finished by feeling the back of his head.

Willow wondered if he still had a knot on the back of it.  “Did it hurt?”

“Definitely.”  He took his hand from his scalp, took one of her hands in his, and placed it where the knot had been.  “See?  All better.  Wounds heal.”

Not all wounds
, Willow feared.  How could she overcome her past?

She had no answers for that question, so she decided to seek the answer to another one.  “Why did you enter that contest?”

“You needed a helping hand,” he answered simply.

“That’s quite a helping hand, marrying a woman.”

“I guess it is.”  His eyes twinkled.  “I’ve never done anything in half measures.”

Willow
didn’t figure he had.  She also figured there was more to his story than he let on.