“I found another one!” Daphne called.
Brianna turned to see her daughter emerge from a thicket holding a rock almost larger than she was. David loped over to relieve the child of the burden. “Sweetheart, don’t lift rocks this heavy. You’ll hurt yourself. Besides, we’ve found enough.”
Daphne scampered after him as he lugged the stone over to the copse. “But, Papa, it’s extra pretty with red in it! It’ll make our monuments more special.”
Brianna stripped off the coat and donned David’s shirt, which was red with a stand-up collar and white buttons down the front. Monuments. What would that man dream up next? Rather than upset Daphne with the truth—that he’d killed three men—he’d told the child that he wanted to build monuments to commemorate how lucky all of them had been last night. Now, according to David, whenever they passed this way, they’d remember how God had watched over them and kept them safe.
Brianna followed them into the small clearing. To her, the mounds of rock looked like graves, not monuments, but David had the child thoroughly convinced. In time, Daphne would think back and recognize it for the gargantuan lie that it actually was, but for now, David was protecting her from the harsh realities.
“Not there, Papa. Put it here.”
David narrowed an eye at the child. “It’s heavy, and I’m not moving it again.”
“I’m sure.” Daphne beamed a smile when the rock was situated to her liking. Then she stepped back to survey their handiwork. “That is perfect.” She turned a sparkling gaze on Brianna. “That one’s yours, Mama. After lengthy debate, we decided you should have the prettiest rocks because you’re the prettiest of us all.”
Brianna suppressed a shudder. “How thoughtful,” was all she could think to say.
A slight frown pleated the little girl’s brow. “Papa, why did we hide our beautiful monuments behind these bushes?”
Thrown by the question, David sent Brianna an imploring look. She came to his rescue with, “Because these monuments are our special secret. We don’t want just any old body to come along and see them.”
“Oh.” Daphne brightened again. “I like having a special secret!”
Minutes later, they had broken camp and mounted up. Daphne once again rode with David. Lucy and one of the extra horses were tethered to Blue’s saddle. Brianna brought up the rear on Acorn, with the other two surplus animals trailing behind him.
David cut across the stream. Brianna had no idea what direction they were going. Judging by the position of the sun, she guessed north. It didn’t really matter to her, though, not anymore. She would never be truly lost with David as a guide. He seemed to possess some unerring instinct to find his way that she sorely lacked.
When they came upon railroad tracks, they followed them. In what seemed like no time, they rode into Clapboard Flats. The community was larger than Glory Ridge, with two short business streets surrounded by houses on small plots of land. Clothing flapped on clotheslines. A black and white dog tore out from his yard to bark at them but kept a respectful distance from the horses. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Brianna saw two hotels, a restaurant, a bathhouse, and the usual stores. David drew their small caravan to a stop in front of the marshal’s office. Leaving Daphne on Blue, he looped the reins over the hitching rail, employing a peculiar knot Brianna had never seen.
When she tried to duplicate it with Acorn’s leads, she ended up shrugging in defeat. David stepped over to do it for her. She tried to pay attention, but the breadth of his hands and the grace of his thick fingers distracted her. His wrists were nearly twice as wide as hers, dark brown from the sun and dusted with gold hair. Remembering the strength of his grip, she got a funny, fluttery feeling way low in her belly.
“You got it?” he asked.
What Brianna got was that she’d somehow waded into trouble up to her chin. She didn’t mind coming to admire and respect David Paxton, but these other feelings—silly, female feelings—were unwise. Eventually, he would want his freedom to resume that life he’d told her about last night. She had a very bad feeling that it included a woman. David was . . . well, extraordinarily handsome. It hit her every time she looked at him. She surely wasn’t the only female to have recognized it.
Oblivious of her mental turmoil, he said, “It’s a simple, quick breakaway tie. Pull on this, and you’re ready to go.” He demonstrated the technique, the reins fell away from the post, and then he redid the knot. “If the horse pulls back, it tightens.” He jerked on the leather, and sure enough, the reins cinched on the wood. “You’ll see men throw a double loop without tying any kind of knot to really secure the animal. I think that’s foolish and unsafe for the horse.” He fixed his gaze on her face. “You okay, Shamrock?”
Brianna couldn’t think how to respond. She was wishing she could perfect that knot to keep him tethered. They’d reached civilization now. Probably sooner than later, he’d investigate her story about Boston and learn that every word she’d spoken by the stream had been the absolute truth. The thought of watching David walk away, of never seeing him again, filled her with inexplicable sadness.
“I’m right as rain.” The moment she spoke, Brianna realized she was even starting to talk like him. “Just a bit tired, I suppose.”
He went to lift Daphne from the horse, swung her into Brianna’s waiting arms, and then led the way into the lawman’s office. The marshal, a young fellow with a shock of sandy hair, glanced up from his desk. Brianna barely glanced at him. Her gaze was glued to the Wanted posters affixed to the wall behind him. David, she realized, was looking at them, too, and the tick of his jaw muscle told her she’d guessed right. Three of the likenesses were of the men he’d killed last night. Each of them, wanted dead or alive, had a 250-dollar reward on his head.
“Well, well,” David said softly as he flipped back his duster to reveal his badge. “I’m Marshal David Paxton, out of No Name.” He reached across the desk to shake the other man’s hand. “I had a run-in last night with those three gents.”
The lawman turned to look. His expression went grim as he returned David’s regard. “You kill ’em?”
David glanced meaningfully at Daphne. “Let’s just say they realized the error of their ways and hightailed it to a better place.” He reached into the pocket of his duster and plopped a knotted blue handkerchief on the desk. “You got any idea how to get in touch with their next of kin?”
The other marshal nodded. “I know where they harkened from. It should be easy enough to locate family.”
“Good.” David patted the bundle. “Divide it three ways so their relatives can divvy up their shares.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got their mounts and gear outside. Nice animals. You know anybody in the market for good horses and tack?”
“I reckon I can find some interested parties.” The marshal of Clapboard Flats arched both eyebrows at David. “Normally, before I send a telegraph for reward money, I require—” He broke off and slanted a thoughtful look at Daphne, perched on Brianna’s hip. “Proof, I guess is the word, that they did indeed hightail it off to a better place.”
David leaned over the desk, grabbed a piece of paper and pencil, and jotted something down. “There’s the location if you’re bent on proof. You’ll find three beautiful monuments there.” Winking at Daphne, David added, “But keep it a secret. My little girl doesn’t want just any old body to know where they are.” Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, David went on to say, “Personally, though, a man’s horse, saddle, and personal possessions are usually enough proof for me.”
“Point taken.”
David nodded. “I’ll trust you to handle everything. I’d like the reward money sent to their families as well. When the horses are sold, same goes.”
“You have my word. It’s a fine thing for you to do. Most folks would want the rewards for themselves.”
“I have no real need of it, and their families might.” David turned to take Daphne from Brianna’s arms. “We’ll head over to the
livery. I’ll cover the costs for the extra three horses tonight, but you’ll need to make other arrangements with the owner until they’re sold. He can take the cost of boarding them out of the sale proceeds, I reckon.”
Brianna followed David from the dim office out into the bright morning. Birds sang sweetly from the eaves of the buildings. A light breeze carried the scents of grass and wildflowers. Her eyes burned with the sting of repressed tears. She wanted to grab David’s arm and apologize to him once again for the accusation she’d made last night. He was no thief. He’d kept nothing from those men for himself, and he’d even turned down the reward money, which, in her opinion, tallied up to a small fortune.
As they walked toward the livery, Brianna saw several nicely dressed women pause on the boardwalk to stare at her with stark disapproval. She glanced down at herself and realized she must look a fright, with David’s bright red shirt calling fast attention to her appearance. Heat crept up her neck. She met those women’s gazes with haughty disdain and judged their gowns to be only passable. Ready-made clothing from Montgomery Ward, no doubt, or the products of their own pathetic attempts at a sewing machine. She swept by them with her chin held high, too proud to let them see her embarrassment.
David spent more than an hour at the livery getting all the horses settled in. After traveling with him, Brianna wasn’t surprised that he insisted on seeing to every detail himself. He was a man who not only valued animals but also appreciated their hard work. Before he saw to his own comforts, he would see to theirs. Brianna almost sat on a hay bale to wait him out, but that struck her as being lazy, so instead she went with Daphne to care for Lucy and Acorn. At Ricker’s, Brianna had learned how to man the business end of a pitchfork. She tossed fresh straw into the stalls while Daphne filled the water buckets and struggled to dump two leaves of fresh hay into the troughs. They were weighty burdens for a little girl to manage.
Watching her daughter, Brianna felt her heart swell with pride. She was fast becoming quite the horsewoman. Lucy adored her, and Acorn nuzzled the child appreciatively, as if he sensed that their relationship would be one of long standing.
When David was satisfied that the animals would fare well for the night, he led Brianna and Daphne from the stable. Brianna expected him to head directly for one of the hotels. She yearned for a bath, and then she wanted to stretch out on a real bed. But David grasped her elbow and veered left toward the town’s dress shop.
“Daphne and I need something fresh to wear while our clothes are being laundered,” he said, his voice laced with underlying firmness. “For now, something ready-made will do us, so while you’re in this shop, selecting a couple of nice dresses in your size, I’ll take her shopping.”
Brianna dug in her heels before he could open the door. “I can’t afford two dresses. I can’t even afford one. All I have is what remains of the money you sent Daphne.”
“You have that roll of bills I gave you last night. Spend some of it.” His blue gaze bore into hers. “Don’t hike your chin up at me like that. New clothing, from the skin out, plus a pair of decent shoes and a nice cloak. No wife of mine is going to be snubbed by the wives of a bunch of clod busters. When you leave this shop, I want you looking like a lady of substance.”
Brianna parted her lips to protest, but David had already turned away. Daphne, clutched in his strong arms, flashed Brianna a grin over his right shoulder. “Buy some pretty dresses, Mama! If you don’t, Papa will be angry.” Brianna, still wanting to protest, started to call out, but Daphne forestalled her with, “You said you’d ask how high. Remember? He just told you to jump!”
David made fast work of finding clothing for Daphne that would do her for the night while her scanty wardrobe was laundered. He also bought himself a change of clothes. Before leaving the dry-goods store, he stopped to buy his daughter a lollipop, which she promptly poked in her mouth. Holding her hand, he carried the bundle of purchases under his left arm as they angled across the street to the dress shop.
David plopped the package on a bench just outside the door and lifted his daughter to sit beside it. “You stay here and enjoy your candy. Okay? I want to help your mama choose some dresses, and most dress-shop owners frown upon sticky little girls.”
Daphne tucked the orb of candy into her cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’ll watch passersby.”
“Just don’t leave the bench.” David glanced up and down the street. It seemed like a quiet town, but he didn’t want his daughter off by herself. “You understand?”
“I won’t move,” she promised.
David pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then entered the dress shop to find Brianna shoving a dress back at the clerk, a slight, white-haired lady with spectacles perched on the end of her bony nose. Right off, David liked her a lot more than he ever had Abigail Martin. She had a sweet smile and kindly gray eyes.
“That’s far too much money,” he heard Brianna say, “and the color is too bold for me. I prefer subdued tones.”
David took in the dress. It was emerald green, almost the exact same color as Brianna’s eyes. “If it fits, she’ll take it.”
Startled, Brianna whirled to face him, her expression taut with admonishment. “I beg your pardon, sir? I’m quite capable of selecting a dress for myself.”
David almost chuckled. She only addressed him as “sir” when her temper flared. His Shamrock had an explosive disposition under all that control. She constantly struggled to keep it under wraps, but it bubbled to the surface despite her efforts. That bothered him. Why did she try so damned hard to smother her true nature? She was a spitfire with a mean right hook, yet she pretended to be a meek lamb.
“A dress?” he popped back. “I told you to get four.”
Her cheeks went crimson. “You most certainly did not! You said two, and I judge even that to be grossly extravagant.”
David didn’t like being overbearing with a lady, but with her pride as an obstacle, he could see no way around it. He winked at the dressmaker. “You’ve got a good eye. That color would be perfect on her. Do you think it will fit?”
The old lady knew a source of profit when she saw one. A twinkle lighted her gray eyes. “Close enough. I can do some quick alterations to make it perfect for her.”
David waved his hand. “Try it on, wife.”
Brianna sent him a look that put him in mind of Bess in No Name—green fire meant to obliterate anything it touched. “This dress is outrageously overpriced!”
“I don’t care how much it costs,” David informed her.
“You, sir, are impossible.”
David didn’t care if he was being impossible. He never again wanted to see her cheeks go hot with shame when she met better-dressed women on the street. She was his wife, damn it, and she would take second seat to no one.
During the trying-on stage, David stepped outside frequently to check on Daphne. When her lollipop disappeared, he took her up the street for a sarsaparilla and then parked her on the bench again while he went inside the shop to check on Brianna’s progress. She stood before a mirror in the emerald green gown. Even with her hair in a tangle about her shoulders, she was so beautiful that she nearly took his breath away. The gown hugged her upper torso, showcasing her generous bust and slender waist, the skirt puffing out from there to shimmer over her hips, the slight bustle accentuating her delightful posterior. So far as David could see, the gown fit her perfectly.
“Sold,” he said.
“I am not taking this dress. It’s shameless.” She tugged at the décolletage, trying to cover the plump swell of her creamy breasts, which were delightfully exposed. So delightfully that David’s manhood sprang to attention. “Forget it.” She turned to the proprietress. “What else have you in stock that might fit?”
“Hold it.” David strode over, doing his damnedest not to gape at the plump, ivory orbs of her generous bosom. “A bit of lace might work,” he said to the shop owner. “My ma does that with gowns that are a bit too revealing.”
&n
bsp; “I have just the thing!” The little woman hurried behind a display case and set out several bolts of lace. David was no expert, but he had a good eye. Well, he knew what he liked to see on a woman, anyway. He bypassed a russet and then a bright gold, thinking they’d both draw the gaze directly to Brianna’s breasts. Well, hello, he didn’t want the attention of every man to shoot straight to her bosom. He pointed to a sturdy jet black with a scalloped edge that was dotted with little holes. “I like that one.”
“Excellent choice. Eyelet is substantial enough to cover but delightfully intriguing to the male eye.”
From the front, David decided the eyelet would cover Shamrock’s attributes, but he didn’t like that it was ruffled. He consoled himself with the thought that any man who got close enough to look down the flutes would be dead before he hit the ground. Jesus Herbert Christ. He was feeling jealous, and if that wasn’t crazy, he didn’t know what was. He was the only man present.
Brianna huffed. “My last desire is to wear anything intriguing to the male eye.”
David seconded that sentiment but slapped his hand down on the eyelet anyway. “You’d be intriguing to the male eye in a flour sack. Just shut up and let her and me figure it out.”
“She and I,” she corrected.
David was in no mood for an English lesson. “Gotcha! You’re wrong. It’d make no sense at all if I said, ‘Let I figure it out.’”
Brianna gave him a heated look that could have wilted a healthy cornstalk.
He nodded to the woman. “Whip something up.” He gestured at Brianna’s astounding cleavage. “I want my wife to look fabulous, mind you, but I’d just as soon other men don’t drool overmuch.”
“Ah, a possessive husband. My Orville was a mite possessive back in the day. I, too, had to wear inserts with my more revealing gowns.” The woman drew out a pair of scissors and cut a length of the black eyelet. “This will do perfectly with a bit of tacking.”
David went to the dress rack while the two females fussed over the proper placement of the insert. He shoved aside a bright blue. Nope, not for his fiery-haired Shamrock. She needed colors that complemented her striking complexion. He came across a muted black silk. He liked that it wasn’t shiny to distract from her skin, glorious hair, and fabulous eyes. Brianna didn’t need adornment to make her sparkle. Oh, yeah, he liked this one. As he drew it off the rack, he pictured her in it. He stepped sideways to toss it on the counter.
Lucky Penny Page 26
