by Laura Beers
Looking down at his hand still resting on hers, she sighed. “You were right, Paden. Killing does take a toll on you. You tried to warn me the night before I left.” She turned her hands to encompass his. “I can’t go home, because I am not the same person that everyone remembers. I have changed, and not necessarily for the better.”
“You are the same person…”
“Am I?” she exclaimed. “I’m wearing trousers under my skirt because I intend to remove it if we’re involved in a shoot-out. Does that sound like the old Rosalie?”
Paden tried again as he watched her intently. “You may have learned some new tricks…”
She cut him off. “I am carrying two pistols on me. Do you want to guess where I’m hiding them?”
A growing red blush crept up Paden’s neck, and she might have found it flattering if she didn’t feel so indignant.
“I couldn’t even begin to guess,” he responded in a hoarse voice.
Rosalie reached down, pulled up her skirt and showed him the revolver strapped over the trousers on her right leg. “This is where I keep my revolver,” she informed him. “And I keep my derringer in my corset.”
While she was lowering her skirt, Paden cleared his throat. “Are you happy, Rosie?”
His question caught her off guard. After everything she had accomplished, was she truly happy? No, she wasn’t. Not until she brought Bill Garrett to justice could she expect true happiness. Realizing he was still waiting for a response, she answered, “I am happier.”
Paden looked at her with pity in his eyes. “Your nana misses you. Your friends miss you.”
It hadn’t overlooked her attention that he hadn’t said that he missed her. “I will visit soon.” Hoping to sway the conversation away from herself, she asked, “Are you happy?”
Furrowing his brow, he looked away from her, and she detected sadness in his countenance. He didn’t speak for a long moment, but when he did, it shook with emotion. “The night before you left, I came to visit you, and you gave no indication of what you were planning. I kept replaying our conversation in my mind, analyzing every word, every movement, wondering how I missed the residual anger in your voice.” He breathed a deep, heartfelt sigh. “You left me, without saying goodbye, as if I meant nothing to you.”
“Didn’t you get the note I left?”
“I got that,” he huffed. “You promised that you would return to me… to us. But that was a lie, wasn’t it?”
She winced, knowing she was deserving of his ire. “I said I would return after I brought all of Garrett’s gang to justice.”
“One day turned into the next, and I knew you weren’t going to come back to me,” Paden declared, his voice shaky. “Don’t you think I wanted justice for what happened to your father… to you?”
Lowering her gaze to her lap, she could only say, “I am sorry.”
“Unlike you, I didn’t go half-cocked in a wild attempt to get myself killed. I became a Pinkerton agent so I could stop the criminals and hopefully bring Bill Garrett to justice.”
“I am so sorry,” she repeated, her words sounding pathetic even to her.
Paden tugged on the reins, bringing the wagon to a stop in the middle of the road. He turned to give her his full attention. “I am sorry, Rosie. I had no right to speak to you like that.”
She brought her teary gaze up to meet his. “You had every right.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “The weeks after your father was killed, you were still recovering from your gunshot wound, and I should have recognized the intense fury still lingering in your eyes. You wanted revenge, and I was just hoping we could move past what happened. To build a life together.”
“My father was shot eighteen times, Paden! Innocent women and children were killed in the ambush!”
“But you survived,” he pointed out.
Rosalie swiped at the tear that was rolling down her cheek. “I couldn’t go on, pretending that everything was all right. Every second of every day, I’ve relived that moment when the first shot was fired, hitting my father in the chest.”
“Rosie,” Paden murmured as he pulled her into his arms. “I am so sorry that I wasn’t there for you right after you were shot.”
Allowing her head to rest on his chest, she replied, “I know why. You were in the posse that went after Bill Garrett and his gang.”
“I should have stayed behind…”
She shook her head. “No. You shouldn’t have. Besides, it wouldn’t have made a difference. By the time you came back, I had already made my decision.”
Tightening his hold on her, he murmured, “If I had only known what you had planned, I would…” His voice trailed off.
Rosalie looked up at him. “You would have what?” she asked in disbelief. “Talked me out of it? Or come along with me?” She knew that Paden would have never left his responsibilities behind to become a bounty hunter.
He closed his eyes, but she could see the disappointment on his features.
“It’s better this way,” she spoke quickly, fearful of his response. “I am no longer the girl you grew up with.”
Paden opened his eyes, and she swore they glistened with unshed tears. “I’m starting to recognize that.”
No other words could have pierced her heart as deeply as Paden’s words just had. She had not prepared herself for the overwhelming heartache that came with his rejection. But it was for the best. He deserved to be happy…. just not with her. She wasn’t good enough for him anymore.
“The client was the embezzler?” Rosalie asked with fascination.
Paden nodded. “The client had hired the Pinkerton Detective Agency to throw off his law partners’ suspicions.”
“What did you do once you discovered the truth?”
Adjusting the reins in his hands, he replied, “We turned over the proof to the police and removed ourselves from the case.” He smirked. “The other partners were so pleased with our work that they paid our fee and then some.”
“Who knew being an agent was so exciting?” Rosalie teased, retrieving the basket from the back of the wagon.
For the past hour, Paden had filled the time by regaling Rosalie with stories of his previous assignments as a Pinkerton agent. He wanted to lighten up their conversation and attempt to show his wife that she wasn’t as different as she led herself to believe. His wife. That was something he could get used to.
“Would you like a sandwich?”
“That sounds delightful.”
Holding up two sandwiches, she joked, “You have a choice of ham or ham.”
“I suppose I will go with ham,” he responded, matching her jesting tone.
Rosalie handed him one of the sandwiches and asked, “Do you prefer working as a Pinkerton agent over being a deputy?”
Paden had just taken a bite, and he took a moment to chew as he considered his answer. “I enjoy working as an agent, but I also enjoyed working as a deputy, partially because I worked under your father. He was a dang good sheriff, the best, in fact.”
Glancing over, he saw Rosalie’s shoulders had slumped slightly, and he kicked himself for upsetting her.
“He was a good father too,” she murmured. “It had been just me and him for as long as I remember. I only have brief memories of my mother. I was so young when she died.”
The sadness in her voice was unmistakable, and he decided to liven up the mood… again. “Did I ever tell you about the time your father put a snake in the jail cell with a prisoner?”
“No. I haven’t heard that story before,” she said, angling her body toward him.
“The good sheriff arrested an inebriated man for drunk and disorderly conduct when he was running up the center of town in just his long underwear,” Paden shared.
Rosalie laughed, as he had hoped she would. “Oh dear.”
“On his way to jail, this man let it slip that he knew about a bank robbery that was going to take place,” he started. “However, once the guy had slept it off, he claimed he knew
nothing about a bank robbery, and he had just been making stuff up.”
Taking the last bite of her sandwich, she wiped the crumbs off her hands. “I take it this is where the snake comes in?”
“Smart girl!” He nodded, giving her a wink. “Somehow your father knew this man was scared to death of snakes, and he went out into the woods, found a bull snake, and placed it in a bag. He released it into the cell and told the prisoner that it was a rattlesnake.”
“Didn’t the man notice that the bull snake lacked a rattle?” she asked, incredulously.
“He wasn’t that smart,” Paden remarked. “After only a few minutes with the snake, he divulged all the information about an upcoming bank robbery in town.”
“Allow me to drive the wagon while you eat,” she offered, holding out her hands for the reins.
He relinquished control, leaned his back against the bench, and lowered the brim of his hat. “I’m glad I went and got myself a wife. Now I can eat in peace when I’m traveling in a wagon.”
Rosalie laughed. “Does that happen often?”
“Shhh… woman. I’m trying to eat. Stop your nagging,” Paden jested, taking a large bite of his sandwich. Fearing he might have gone too far, he glanced over at her and saw a smile on her lips.
A short time later, he heard his wife say in a subservient tone, much to his amusement, “Husband, dear, we are coming into a town.”
Paden tipped his hat back. “That would be the town of Four Horses.” He held his hand out for the reins. “I can take it from here.”
With a playful smile on her lips, she remarked, “That’s not necessary. I am perfectly capable of driving a wagon into town.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just don’t run over anyone.”
Leading the wagon into the center of town, Rosalie stopped the team in front of the livery stable and set the brake. Paden jumped down, walked around to the other side, and assisted his wife to the ground.
“Can I help you?” a man’s voice asked from inside the livery.
Paden stepped closer to the burly man dressed in overalls. “Yes, I was hoping to store this wagon here for the day. Someone from the town of Silver Creek will be by later to pick it up.”
The man quoted the cost for the service, and Paden extended him the coins. “I need to secure tickets for the stagecoach, then I will be back to unload our trunk and bags.”
“Aye. The stagecoach is leaving soon. You best hurry,” the man directed.
Extending his arm toward Rosalie, they hurried across the dusty main road toward a building bearing a crude sign hanging over the door, announcing ‘Barlow Dispatch & Grizzly’s Peak Express’. They stepped into the small room and saw a young man with a broad face and a large nose sitting at a lone desk. He rose respectfully when he saw Rosalie.
“Howdy, folks. My name is Tim Rowdy, and I am the station keeper. What can I do for the two of you?”
“We would like two tickets for the stagecoach heading to Shelbrook,” Paden said.
The man’s face paled. “Are you sure, sir? It would be best if you waited for tomorrow’s trip.”
“Why is that?” Rosalie asked, her warm voice brightening the dingy room.
Tugging down on his worn, blue vest, the station keeper replied, “I am not at liberty to say, ma’am. All I can say is that this leg of the journey has been attacked multiple times by a group of ruthless road agents, and there is a greater risk that it might be attacked today.”
“What are road agents?” Rosalie asked, bringing her hand up to her chest and playing the part of a simpering woman very well. “Is that another name for Indians?”
Mr. Rowdy shook his head. “No, ma’am. ‘Road agents’ is a term we use for stagecoach robbers.”
“For what purpose would these men want to attack a stagecoach?” she pressed.
Opening his mouth, the station keeper started to respond, then he shut it quickly and shook his head. “I can’t say. I’m sorry.”
Paden had respect for this young man, because he doubted that he could have held his tongue with Rosalie looking at him like that. “Regardless, we will take our chances.”
“All right, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you,” Mr. Rowdy sighed as he reached into his desk and produced two tickets. “The good news is that there are only four other passengers that will be joining you. Typically, this stage fills up with nine passengers.”
Stepping forward, Paden paid the station keeper and collected the tickets. “When does the stagecoach depart?”
Mr. Rowdy looked at the clock. “It will leave promptly in twenty minutes.”
“Where is the mercantile located?” he inquired, eliciting a curious glance from Rosalie.
“Just two buildings over.”
As they stepped back onto the porch, Paden turned toward Rosalie and grew serious. “Since you turned down Sheriff Vance’s proposal, I think it is only fair that I treat you to a ready-made gown from the mercantile. Perhaps some ribbon too.”
“You heard that?”
He nodded. “I did. I thought he was quite generous in offering you a new gown that you didn’t have to make yourself. Frankly, I was surprised you didn’t agree to his proposal.”
She smiled, her countenance radiating happiness. “I missed this.”
“Me teasing you?”
“Yes. And a reason to smile.”
Before he could respond, the stagecoach pulled up and the driver shouted, “All aboard.”
Paden chuckled. “The dress will have to wait, my dear. Apparently, the stagecoach is early today.”
Chapter 5
Rosalie sat next to Paden in the back row of the stagecoach with her hands firmly in her lap. She didn’t want to be foolish enough to reach for his hand, despite being close enough that they were constantly brushing up against each other. Stubborn tendrils of hair were sticking to her skin due to the stifling heat inside the coach.
On the bench directly across from them sat an older lady, who introduced herself as Mrs. Weipert, and her sixteen-year-old granddaughter, Margaret. The woman’s faded brown hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she was wearing a worn dress of brown calico with a high neck. Every so often, Mrs. Weipert and Rosalie would catch each other’s eye and smile cordially at each other. It would be polite to engage in small talk, considering their closeness in the cramped stagecoach, but Rosalie wasn’t interested.
The far bench held a middle-aged couple, and the lady’s head was resting against the man’s shoulder. They both were dressed in black clothing, and Rosalie assumed they were in mourning.
“How long have you two been married?” Mrs. Weipert asked with a subtle German accent, her kind eyes darting between Paden and Rosalie.
An easy smile came to Paden’s lips, almost appearing as if he had anticipated the question. “We got married this morning.”
The woman gasped. “Good heavens. You two are newlyweds.”
“We are,” Paden admitted eagerly. He placed his arm over her shoulder, tugging her closer. “We are staying over in Shelbrook for our honeymoon.”
“How exciting,” Mrs. Weipert exclaimed. “I lost my dear husband about five years ago, but we were married for thirty years.”
Paden kissed her cheek, catching her completely off guard. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with Rosalie, and I know she feels the same way,” he declared. “When we were still in the school room, my wife marched up to me and told me that we would be having five children.”
The older woman smiled approvingly. “Five is a good number.”
With a tight smile, Rosalie replied, “But, dear, I was young then. I might have been a little overeager to start a family. I think two, possibly, three children should be sufficient.”
“You are the apple of my eye,” Paden said, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “I want as many young ‘uns as I can get out of you.”
Blast him! He was enjoying making her squirm. Well, two could play at that game, she thought. Placing a hand on
his leg, she replied coyly, “You are right, Paden. I can’t wait to start a family with you.”
Rosalie watched him swallow slowly as his eyes darted to her lips. When he brought his gaze back up, she saw desire, longing. She had seen that look in many men’s eyes over the years, but this was the first time that it caused her breath to hitch.
A round of shots were fired from behind the coach, followed by the sound of splintering wood echoing throughout the interior. In an instant, Paden’s expression turned to one of determination. “Everyone, get down,” he ordered.
Leaning forward, he retrieved his revolver from the back of his trousers, gripped a leather strap that hung from the ceiling, and stuck his head out of the window. He fired his gun, then exclaimed, “There are six road agents!”
Reaching for the revolver holstered to her right leg, Rosalie put her head out the other window and aimed at one of the robbers. She fired, hitting him squarely in the chest. As he fell from his horse, she shouted, “One down!”
The roar of a shotgun came from the top of the coach. The stagecoach hit a section of deep sand, forcing it to slow its progression and allowing the robbers to get closer. More shots were fired in their direction, forcing them both back into the safety of the coach.
Paden’s eyes were burning with intensity. “Be careful, Rosie.”
“You too, husb..” Her words stopped when a loud thud came from above them. Rosalie’s heart filled with dread. “The shotgun messenger has been shot. Cover me.”
“Cover you? For what?” he shouted.
In a swift motion, Rosalie removed her skirt and propped herself up into the window frame. She reached up to grip the horizontal metal bar framing the length of the roof and pulled herself up on top of the coach. The messenger was sprawled out, his vacant eyes staring up at her, the shotgun resting next to him. A bullet whizzed by her face, reminding her that she needed to think fast, or she would be killed. She made a split-second decision, deciding to use the shotgun rather than her revolver.
Dropping down, Rosalie pushed the messenger up against the metal bar, intending to use him as a shield, and laid on her stomach. She grabbed the shotgun, rested it on top of the body, and pressed it into the crook of her shoulder to minimize the recoil from the blast. Then, she took aim at one of the road agents and fired. She missed.
