by Cat Cahill
It was all a lie. Edie didn’t have the first clue where the railroad company kept its deeds, but she’d gotten Virgil’s interest, at least. He seemed to be engaging in a silent conference with Levi and Whiskey Jack. Edie used that moment to glance off to her left. Pa saw right through her ruse, or so she assumed from the amused expression that crinkled around his eyes and lifted the corners of his lips while the Fletchers weren’t looking. But James . . .
She hadn’t prepared herself for his disappointment. He didn’t know she was telling a falsehood, of course, and the hurt that had spread across his face hit her heart like an arrow.
He thought she was no better than the rest of her family.
Edie could have crumpled right there in the sage and sandy dirt, her hands still tied in front of her, and given up. James’s disappointment in her was more than she could bear. But she forced herself to remain standing. If this worked, she could explain it to him. Perhaps he’d understand.
Or perhaps he was done with her the moment he found out who she really was.
“All right, you got my curiosity aroused, girl,” Virgil said, and Edie swung all her attention back to the matter at hand. “But how do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
“I have one of the deeds on me. I was going to give it to my pa, you see . . .” Edie fumbled for the pocket in her dress. She made quite a show of it, using her tied hands as an excuse.
“Pa, I didn’t . . . I mean, I know I should have . . .” Tell stumbled over his words.
Edie knew exactly what he was trying to say. He hadn’t bothered to find out whether she carried a small revolver or any other weapon, never mind a deed. He’d assumed correctly that she was unarmed, although he didn’t know that.
Virgil’s eyes shifted to his son. “Spit it out.”
“I didn’t—”
But before he could finish, Edie had dipped lower, grabbed two handfuls of sand and flung them behind her, right into Levi Fletcher’s face.
Chapter Thirty-one
The moment Edie began fumbling for her pocket, James knew something wasn’t right. He went from profoundly disappointed to confused to springing into action in less than five seconds.
As soon as Edie reached for the ground, James anticipated her actions. And the very second that sandy dirt hit Levi Fletcher in the face, he ran forward, guns drawn. Edie collided with him as she ran for safety, and he shoved her behind him just as the rest of Virgil’s boys realized what was going on and began to fire. “Stay back!” he yelled at her over his shoulder.
This sort of melee was exactly the sort of thing James was hoping to avoid, but as the meeting drug on, he’d begun to think it was inevitable. Years of tensions had brewed between these two families, and they were long overdue to explode.
His only goal now was to make the violence last as short a time as possible. He went straight for Virgil, knowing Jonas Beaumont was likely to do the same. But James was younger and faster, and he was on Virgil before the man had even finished pulling his gun from his holster.
“Leave it be, Fletcher,” he called, both guns trained on the man. He darted a look to either side, but Virgil’s boys were too busy fighting off the Beaumonts and James’s men to provide their father with any sort of protection. A few gunshots rang out here and there, but the Fletchers were severely outnumbered, and most of the men were quickly overpowered.
Virgil grinned, his eyes alight with some sort of madness, and he drew anyway. In a split second, James had to make a decision. He fired, praying the bullet would land where he intended it.
It did, and Virgil yelped, dropping the gun. James took a step forward, but stopped short when a voice rang through the mess of men and guns and fighting.
“Jonas Beaumont!”
James whipped around. Levi Fletcher, his vision seemingly clear of sand now, trained a revolver on Jonas Beaumont.
“Hold him!” James shouted at the nearest couple of men from town and pointed at Virgil Fletcher. The men did as they were told, and James moved toward the situation about to erupt between Levi and Jonas.
“Killing is too good for you,” Levi was saying as Jonas backed up, both hands raised. “You crippled me, remember?” He spat the words out.
James paused just off to Levi’s side. Around him, his men and the Beaumonts had mostly contained the Fletchers, but James kept his attention trained on Levi.
“Let’s see how good you do on a bum leg.” Levi lowered his revolver to aim at Jonas’s leg.
James trained his own gun on Levi. “Let it go.”
Levi offered him a mere glance before returning his attention to Jonas. “I’d like to see you stop me, lawman,” he said. He placed both hands on the revolver.
And with Levi about to fire, James holstered his own gun before hurtling himself at Levi.
But he wasn’t fast enough. Levi swung around and fired.
The impact should have knocked James backward, but he paused only a split second before continuing to move forward. He barreled into Levi, pushing the man to the ground, just as he began to feel the pain.
It exploded, so intense he thought he might black out.
James barely realized what was happening as two of his men held Levi to the ground. James backed away, stumbling, before falling to the ground.
“James!” Edie’s voice reached his ears just as his eyes closed.
James opened his eyes to find an angel hovering over him. He lifted his hand to touch her face. She hardly looked real. But she frowned at him and gently pushed his hand down.
THEN SHE PRESSED FIRE to his other shoulder.
Jolted completely awake, the memories flooded back. The meetup, Edie tossing sand into Levi Fletcher’s face, the Beaumonts and his men overtaking the Fletchers, and Levi Fletcher, shooting him.
And now Edie was . . . what was she doing?
He swatted at where she was inflicting so much pain he thought he might black out again. But she grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled his arm away. When had she gotten so strong?
Or, when had he become so weak?
“You need to let me tend to you,” she said in an authoritative voice. He was reminded of a teacher he’d had in school back in Kansas, one who hadn’t let him or any of the other boys get away with much of anything.
“You’re lucky the bullet went clean through. But I have to clean the wound and stitch it up, or you’ll lose the use of your entire arm.”
His eyes found hers, and she looked down at him, deadly serious and yet so beautiful at the same time. Was there any end to what this woman could do? And yet something sat uneasy in his stomach . . . what was it?
She pressed fire to his shoulder again, and he realized, through the searing pain, that someone had cut away his shirt.
“All right,” she said, more softly. “Mr. Johansen and Mr. Clements—they’ve been working on the bank—are going to hold your arms. I’ll work as quickly as I can.” She paused a moment, a hand hovering over his face. She finally let her fingers run quickly down his jaw, a feather-light touch he might’ve thought he’d imagined if he hadn’t seen it happen. “I’m grateful you’re alive.” Her voice broke a little, but she recovered fast, backing away to allow the men from town to grab hold of his hands.
She took a needle and some thread from a younger man, a boy, really, who stood off to the side, and that was when the truth ricocheted back through him.
That boy was her brother.
Edie was a Beaumont.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, she told lies as if they were truths, falling off her tongue as if the speaking of them was something that came easy to her.
James struggled, pushing against the men’s grips. They mistook his movements for fear and held him tighter. Edie’s needle pierced his skin, and James fought the urge to cry out.
“Here, give him this,” someone said, and a piece of wood pressed between his teeth.
The torture went on for a few more minutes, until Edie had sewed up the holes on both the fr
ont and back of his shoulder.
“When we get back to town, I can make you a poultice that will help heal the wound,” Edie said, but the last of her words trailed off, as if she weren’t certain of them. Someone brought her a canteen to clean her hands while a couple of the men from town helped James up into a sitting position.
The pain was sharp, and he gritted his teeth until he could be still again. “The Fletchers,” he managed to say as soon as he could think straight.
“All trussed up and ready to sit in jail,” Clements said. He pinched the edges of his jacket between his fingers, looking awfully proud of himself.
James nodded, until the pain said otherwise. He sucked in a breath before speaking again. “Virgil Fletcher? How bad did I hit him?”
“Don’t look like he’s headed for the other side just yet. You grazed him good, though,” Johansen said.
Edie finished washing her hands just as her father joined her. He immediately wrapped her into a hug. James wanted to smile at the affection, but something—something selfish and uncertain—wouldn’t let him.
Clements and Johansen spoke of everything that had just happened, but James had eyes only for Edie. She spoke with her father for several minutes. At one point, he glanced at James with a slight frown before turning his attention back to his daughter. James couldn’t imagine what she told him—or what he wanted her to tell him. He shouldn’t still be thinking of her with affection, especially after everything she’d chosen not to share with him. And especially now that he knew who she was.
And yet . . . She had his heart.
With one last squeeze of her father’s hand, Edie left him standing several feet away and stepped forward until she stood before James. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said to Clements and Johansen. “Could I have a moment with Deputy Wright?”
The men tugged on their hats and walked off, leaving the two of them alone—or as alone as they could be with a large group of men all around them.
Edie knelt in the dirt beside him. “How does it feel?”
“It’s painful, but not terrible,” he said honestly. “Thank you for fixing me up.”
She nodded, her cheeks coloring as she looked toward the ground. “I . . .” She glanced up toward where her father stood with a couple of men he presumed were her brothers. “My father would like to speak with you.”
James pressed his lips together. He didn’t have to talk with the man to know what he’d want—James’s earlier promise to him fulfilled.
“Will you let them go free?” Edie’s eyes were on him now, a soft brown, shining through the glasses that sat on her nose. Her voice was pleading, and it cut his heart in two.
By all that was just, he shouldn’t. Yet . . . he’d made a promise, and he wasn’t one to go back on his word. He had the Fletchers, and that was justice enough for his uncle. And in talking with Jonas Beaumont, he’d learned the crimes perpetrated had been the Fletchers, all save the horse thieving and the general store. The Fletchers had been the ones who’d ambushed him outside the mining camp.
“Yes,” he said, a bit gruffly. “Provided they swear never to return.”
She smiled at him, so big it seemed she’d pulled the sun down from the sky to light up her own face. And the last bit of reticence melted inside him. This woman meant the world to him, no matter her true name.
He loved her.
He wanted more than anything to take her hand in his and profess just that, but he couldn’t—not yet.
“Thank you,” she said as she twisted her hands together. Hands that had stitched him up. Hands that he’d held so recently he could place each detail of how they felt sitting in his own. “James, I . . .” Her mouth worked as if words were trying to escape, yet didn’t quite know the way.
He wanted to ask her a million questions. Why did she keep the truth from him? Why didn’t she come to him before she left? Did she care for him as much as he cared for her? But he kept his mouth shut, letting her figure out what she wanted to say.
“I owe you some explanation,” she finally said. Her hands were clenched together now, and she sat still.
“You only need say what you feel you should,” he replied. And he meant it. If she didn’t care to tell him the truth, that was her decision. It might render his heart forever broken, but he’d have the answer to where her feelings lay. He’d move on, position himself as best he could to be elected town marshal, and finally achieve the life he’d wanted for so long.
Yet, why did it feel so hollow now?
“The truth is . . .” Edie paused, her eyes lifting to meet his, earnestness written all over her face. “I love you.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The words hung in the air. James’s eyes widened, and Edie was sure that if she gave it a moment, he’d speak, but she had more to say before he told her he couldn’t feel the same way. The truth had been scratching at her insides for so long, and if she didn’t let it out, she would never forgive herself.
She clasped her hands together so hard, her fingers began to tingle, and she pressed on. “I want you to know that. And I know you can’t feel the same way, now that you’re aware of who I am . . . who my family is. I wanted to tell you, so many times. And I almost did, but I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. I thought it might be easier for both of us if I simply disappeared. But that didn’t go as I planned, and while I was with the Fletchers, I promised myself that if I was afforded the opportunity, I’d tell you everything. You deserve the truth.”
James opened his mouth to speak, but Edie didn’t let him. “I left Kansas in the dead of night. I told no one. My family didn’t know where I was, or even whether I was alive. I hated doing that to them, but it was the only way. My father never would have agreed, and I wanted out so badly. His life—and my mother’s and my brothers’—it was never for me. All the stealing and sneaking around and constantly moving and always wondering whose lives lay in ruin because of my family . . . I couldn’t live with that anymore. I wanted something stable and honest. I didn’t want to be Edith Beaumont.”
When she paused, James stayed quiet. Edie shifted herself, tucking her legs underneath her, and continued. “I took some money Mama had squirreled away, I wrote a false letter of reference, and I left. I’d seen an ad for waitresses, out here in the Colorado Territory. It felt far away, and so I took a train to Wichita and interviewed. I won the position, and . . .” She lifted an arm, gesturing to the landscape around them—the mountains on each side of the valley, the miles and miles of emptiness, the dark pines that dotted the landscape, and off in the distance, beyond where they could see, the new town of Crest Stone. “I love it here. I took an assumed name, I made friends, I worked hard.”
“What about Mr. Adkins?” James finally spoke. His voice was kind but insistent.
Edie’s heart tripped. The embarrassment of that entire incident was something she felt she’d never shed. “I should have told you, I know. But you must understand that was one of the worst experiences of my life. I didn’t want you to look at me any differently, and all I wanted was to put it behind me. Mr. Adkins recognized me. He did work for my family in the past—and apparently the Fletchers too. He threatened to expose me if I didn’t take money from the hotel for him. When we were found out, I told everyone that my family had owed him a debt, and that was what the money was for. He stayed quiet because I told him I’d already written my pa about what he’d done. It worked, until he decided it would be all right to write to the Fletchers and tell them about me. That’s how they found me here.”
James shifted his arm and winced. Edie reached out to check that the bandage was still in place, and he watched her work quietly. Finally, he spoke. “I understand. And I imagine anyone else would have done the same in your position.”
“I suppose,” she said, pulling her hand from his shoulder. The bandages held. Her only worry now was the possibility of infection setting in. But the poultice should help with that. They needed to return to town as soon as poss
ible so she could make it. “But I doubt many others would have lied as I did. I was wrong to pretend I was someone I’m not. I thought it wouldn’t affect anyone but myself, but it’s hurt so many.”
James looked as if he wanted to speak, but Edie stood quickly. She’d finally spoken aloud the thoughts that had troubled her for so long, and if she thought on them much longer, the guilt might tear her apart. Besides, she didn’t think she could bear James’s rejection. “We need to get moving.” And with that, she turned to see if the rest of their party was ready.
Her pa stood off to the side, hand on his reliable old horse, and eyes that seemed to have been watching her this entire time. They hadn’t said much earlier. Edie had apologized for leaving without a word, and he’d nodded gruffly before wrapping her in a hug. But that was all. She still felt as if there were so much more to say. She gathered her skirts and approached him.
“We need to return to Crest Stone as soon as possible. He needs rest or that wound won’t heal properly,” she said, with a glance back at James.
Her pa rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You’ve been awful attentive to the deputy.”
Edie resisted the urge to wipe her damp palms across her skirts. “He was shot, and needed tending.”
“You got your mother’s ways of healing,” he said with a sad smile. “But it ain’t just that.”
“What do you mean?” She spoke the words lightly, but her voice trembled just a little.
“For the love of Pete, girl, you’re old enough to know your own mind. Do I have to spell it out for you?”
Edie glanced back at James. He watched her, his expression unreadable. “It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “I’ve tangled myself in so many lies, he has no reason to trust me.”
Pa’s large hand squeezed her shoulder, immediately making her feel like a little girl again. As if all she had to do was curl up in her pa’s embrace and all would be right with the world. She wanted to do that now. Throw herself into him and let him fix everything.
