Wed to the Texas Outlaw (16 page)

“Last I saw your brother he was alive,” he called. “What you boys need to know is that I'm going to clear you out of Jasper Springs, hand you over to the law. This is my town. Surrender now or I'm taking you down, one by one or all together.”

With that, he spun the horse around then double-timed it down Main Street. The buzz of a bullet zinged past his ear.

What got his attention more than that was seeing the butcher standing in the doorway of his shop, a hesitant grin on his face, his hand raised in salute.

Chapter Twelve

T
he fact that he hadn't been followed didn't make Boone feel any easier.

Figuring that the Kings were doing the same thing that he was—planning an attack—made him feel twitchy in his gut.

When he galloped into the yard, Stanley was standing watch at the homestead door. He'd passed by Doc Brown and Edward doing the same a hundred yards back.

The lawyer waived, sauntered down the steps.

“There was trouble while you were gone. The women are upset—all of us are, but your wife was—”

Melinda and trouble? Boone didn't take the time to hear about it from Smythe, but took off running across the yard toward home—the barn, that is.

The lawyer had called Melinda Boone's wife. What the blazes?

Bursting through the door, he found her staring blankly at her reflection in the small square mirror.

She was pale, distress haunted her gaze.

“Melinda?” he called softly.

At the sound of his voice she suddenly turned.

“Boone!”

In a flurry of ruffles and lace, she flew into his arms.

Wrapping her up, he breathed in the scent of her hair, felt the silkiness of the strands fondle his cheek.

She clung to him, but no more than he did to her.

Somehow his sweet, spunky wife had become his sanctuary. When the ground was shifting at his feet, she was constant.

In the moment of his greatest weakness, of nearly irresistible temptation, she had called him back from a decision that would have damned his soul forever.

And all because she trusted him.

For a fact, his days of walking the outlaw road were over. He wouldn't take the easy way. Her confidence in him had made him a new man.

Didn't understand it, but it was real nonetheless.

Boone Walker, the depraved one, had surrendered—to a woman. A virtuous woman, no less.

He owed her everything—more than his life. That's why, when this ordeal was over, he would deliver her to Lantree and then go his way. It didn't matter how deeply he had come to care for her, that with his dying breath, whether it be tomorrow or when he was an old man, he would think of her. It only mattered that she lived a happy life.

To his shame, that is something he could not offer. Hell, he couldn't even offer financial support. The only way he knew of to make a living he'd just sworn off.

But all that was a problem for another time.

“Honey, you look shaken to the core.”

When she nodded, her hair tickled his nose.

“Why?”

She glanced up, her blue eyes wide, shining with unshed tears.

“Well... I...” He'd never known her to be at a loss for words. Something about that broke his heart.

“Hold on.” He swept her off her feet, carried her up the loft ladder.

It seemed right to go there because that is the spot where he had been comforted, his strength renewed. That small space was the closest thing he'd had to a home since he was a kid.

Didn't take much to know why. Melinda made it so.

Lowering her to her feet, he stepped away from the floral scent of her.

He sat against the wall where he had a view of the surrounding land.

Even though his wife needed him now, retribution was on the way and he needed to be on the watch for it.

He opened his arms. She came to him, sitting on his lap and nuzzling her head against his shoulder.

“What happened, honey? It's really got you on edge.”

“Bird almost killed Giselle.” She gripped his jacket with her small hands. They trembled.

“Is she injured?”

Bird would answer for the wicked thing he'd done, whatever it turned out to be.

Covering her hand with his, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles. Her fingers relaxed.

“Poor Giselle,” Melinda said quietly. “All she wanted was justice for her husband, but she didn't take into account that Bird would be quicker and stronger than she was, even though she had a gun and he was tethered. I was on my way to feed him. If I hadn't been—”

She glanced up at him then quickly away, but not so quickly that he didn't see the moisture welling in her eyes or feel the tremor that passed through her shoulders.

“Well, in the end I was going, wasn't I? Alone, though, since the men were on watch.”

“You ought to have let him go hungry.”

“Yes, but I hadn't planned on going inside the shed, not until I heard Giselle scream.”

“I'm not trying to reprimand you.”

“Good because—” She gave him half a smile and shrugged.

That smile was reassuring. It was a relief to see the color rising in her cheeks, the twinkle of blue mischief returning her eyes.

Anyone who dimmed Melinda Walker's fire deserved to be hanged by the toes and he reckoned Bird King had been the one to do it.

“You will be glad to know that I did have a gun in my pocket, just like you said I should. Of course, it was useless.”

And, just like that, his sparkling, courageous wife was fully back. She sat straight but remained squarely on his lap. It seemed so natural to have her there; as though that's the place she was meant to be.

“Why was the gun useless?”

“Since Bird had already taken the one from Giselle, and the space was so small, I thought it would be best if he didn't know I had one. I didn't think I'd come out the winner if we started shooting at each other.”

“I'm afraid to ask. What weapon did you use?”

“Oh, well... I suppose you'll find out, anyway.” She shrugged. The sweet gesture made her look so damned appealing. If he didn't need to know what had happened he might—no, he wouldn't. Couldn't. “I made up lies about you. You might be happy to know that it was your reputation that scared Bird into letting us go.”

“I'm beginning to think it has its uses. What did you tell him?”

“Just that you killed a boy and his dog, blew a man's head off before dinner one night...oh, and there was the bit about the time you drowned a man and used him for fishing bait.”

He stared at her, stunned.

“No need to look so stricken, Boone. The cad deserved it for accidentally killing our cat. I believe that the mental picture of me wading into the water naked to retrieve the feeding fish unnerved Bird enough that when Giselle told him that you were devoted to me and would have revenge, he believed it. And I told him you were going to cut off his fingers.”

“Well done.”

“But, Boone, I did have to draw the gun. He was so enjoying the anticipation of killing Giselle that there was the moment of hesitation you told me about. I used it to surprise him.”

“Is he dead?”

“He wishes he was since I told him that you were also going to cut off his tender part and send it to his brothers wrapped in a pink bow.”

“Tender part?”

She glanced at his crotch, arched a brow and nodded.

“Lord have mercy. Honey, you have a rare talent.”

“I do?”

“How many people could face a killer armed mainly with her brain and come out unharmed? Melinda, I am in awe of you.”

“Oh—you are?” She blinked at him, her cheeks flushed with what could only be pleasure. “There's Rebecca, she could do it. The two of us were as skilled at getting out of trouble as we were getting into it.”

“I'd like to see the idiot madman who might try to hold his own against the pair of you.”

To see her smiling again made him feel warm inside, gooey even. It felt as though he had lost something precious and suddenly found it again.

“Well, there was the time that Rebecca and I rousted a whole gang of villains who were about to kill Grandfather Moreland. Of course, I was wearing snakes on my head and Becca was playing funeral music.”

“They must have been terrified.”

“Oh, they were and it was satisfying to see, but in the end it was your brother who saved the day. But if it hadn't been for—”

“I love you, Melinda.” He cupped her face between his palms and kissed her quickly. He shouldn't have, but a declaration of love deserved a kiss. “I reckon I shouldn't say it when we haven't got much more time together—I just want you to know that you have captured me, completely, and I won't forget you.”

Melinda twisted around, repositioning herself so that she straddled his thighs. She placed her hands on his shoulders, gripping with her fingers, gazing at him hard.

No—not quite hard, there was humor lurking in those clever blues.

“Do you imagine I will let you?” she asked. “Boone Walker, you may have escaped prison, but you will not escape me.”

“I'm not the kind of man to get married. I wish I was, but I'm not.”

“You already did.”

With that she lifted up on her knees and kissed him. Not a maidenly peck, either. Far from it. She tangled her fingers in his hair then, pressing her lush little body against his chest, ground him against the wall, where he could do nothing but answer her kiss.

Hell, that was a lie. He could have refused it if he'd wanted to. But right now there was nothing he wanted more than to strip the clothes from her, feel her heated skin against his and eat up her soft moans when he took her.

Hell again. Hell's curses! There actually was something he wanted more.

He wanted to honor her. Giving in to his bodily urges without intending to spend the rest of his life with her—he wouldn't shame her that way.

What made this decision so impossible was that it wasn't simply bodily urges drawing him to her. It was the heart and soul of the woman.

Melinda sighed, pulled back. “You left me, Boone. Right in the middle of that kiss, you left me.”

“What if we created a child and I was gone?”

“Gone where? You said you loved me. What is it that's—” she waived her hand in the general direction of west “—out there, that you want more than you want me?”

“Not a single thing.” It was true; there wasn't anything he wanted more than Melinda. The day that he signed the legal papers annulling their marriage would be the worst of his life. “But there is for you.”

“No, Boone. You are wrong about that.” Melinda pushed away from him and stood. “For me, out there, there's nothing. Only men who never see past my smile. Until I married you, I thought I was doomed to be adored.”

She marched the few steps across the loft then started down the ladder. When all he could see was the top of her head, she popped up again with only her face in view.

“Just so you know, I've put my own personal bounty on you. I'm in hot pursuit even though it looks like I'm going down the ladder.”

“What's the price on my head this time?”

She smiled, arched a pretty brow. “Oh, it's high. You'll find out what it is as soon as you admit that I will always be your wife.”

Her face dipped out of sight one more time, but not for long.

“And there will be babies—lots of them.”

* * *

At midnight a gunshot disturbed the silence. At a quarter past the hour, another rang out, this one coming from a different direction.

Before going out to sit his watch, Boone had told her that this was a tactic meant to keep them on edge, to make sure they didn't get any sleep.

Lying alone in the straw bed, she could say with certainty the tactic was working. She was restless. Looking out the window, she saw the lamps in the house burning.

Apparently everyone was restless.

Although it had to be said that lying in bed awake or huddled in front of the fireplace in the house had to be more restful than riding around in the dark shooting off guns.

Below, she saw Boone sitting on the paddock fence, his rifle across his lap. The frigid light of a full moon shone on him.

He needed coffee and she needed company. Putting on her heavy coat and only that—very well, she also put on boots but not stockings—she went outside. Crossing the yard toward the house, frost crunched under her feet.

“Evening, Melinda,” Doc Brown said when she came up the porch steps. He sat in the rocker bundled in a blanket, taking his turn at watch.

“Evening, Doctor,” she replied then hurried inside, grateful for the warmth that enveloped her.

Everyone sat in the parlor, just as she had imagined they would be doing. The only one sleeping was Diana.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Giselle leaped up to embrace her. They had been through something horrendous together. It formed a bond.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

“I've just come to get coffee for Boone.”

“Here, hold Diana for a moment while I fetch it.”

“If only the shooting would stop,” Trudy said, but she openly snuggled close to Stanley on the couch, sheltering under his arm. That cozy happening would not be going on without the gunfire.

Stanley looked—different.

He'd changed over the weeks that she'd known him. He still wore his glasses at the bridge of his nose, his boots hadn't yet lost all of their shine, but he no longer had the timid look of a tenderfoot.

And why not? He was in love. Somehow that alone made him seem taller. Perhaps it was his affection for Trudy that made him stop scowling at her and Boone the way he had in the beginning.

Giselle returned with the coffee. Melinda bid the people and the warmth good night.

Crossing the yard she saw frost on the brim of Boone's Stetson and the shoulders of his coat. Bright moonlight made it glitter.

Poor man must be shivering. He still had two hours of his watch to go before Edward relieved him.

Another gunshot cut the silence. She misstepped, dribbling hot coffee on her fingers.

The burn was worth it because Boone smiled when he saw her.

She raised a cup to him.

“It smells like heaven. I could kiss you.”

“Here, hold mine and I'll climb up.”

He took the mug. When she scrambled up, cold air rushed up her coat nipping at her nether cheeks. Maybe she ought to have taken the time to dress properly.