“I can be temperamental,” Julia admitted. “Sometimes I can be stubborn.”
“I am aware of that,” Grant replied with a chuckle and kissed her lightly on the lips. “So what is your reply?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I will marry you Grant Gentry…I love you, have loved you since the first moment I saw you.”
He lifted her off the floor and swung her around, the entire time smiling so wide she did as well.
Finally she had an answer to her question.
Grant Gentry’s dimples did deepen when he smiled and a more breathtaking sight she’d be pressed to ever see.
*The End*
THE MARSHAL
Gentrys of Montana 2
Hildie McQueen
Dedication
The Marshal is dedicated to my friend Gayla Leath for her never ending support and no nonsense personality. I both admire and fear her! Thank you Gayla for being such a strong, brave woman who lives life well and for sharing some of it with me.
Chapter One
Rutger’s Ridge, Montana 1854
“You have a beautiful smile, Emerson Gentry.” Melanie’s sweet face loomed over his, her hair casting a curtain on both sides of their faces. “You should smile more often.”
It was late, almost suppertime. His pa would be back from working the fields soon, Emerson should be corralling his young brothers and heading home.
Instead of hiding away with Melanie in the tall grass, Emerson knew he should be paying closer attention to what his brothers did.
But it was rare that he and Melanie could steal away and spend time together. Her pa was a strict man who kept a firm grip on his daughter. “I would if I could see you more often.” He lifted and kissed her soft lips. With reluctance he admitted it was time to end their time together. “We should go. Don’t want your pa to know you came here today.”
It was a sunny spring day, warm enough for them to lie outside on the soft grass and enjoy the gentle breeze. The clearing next to a small pond where he often took his younger brothers swimming was hidden from sight. It was their special place, where they could spend precious minutes together when Melanie managed to get away from her chores.
Emerson heard laughter and splashing. His brothers were enjoying the extended time away from the house and schoolwork.
He studied the girl he planned to marry soon. She blushed at his close scrutiny. Melanie was only sixteen with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Even in her plain gray frock, her blossoming figure brought thoughts of touching her skin in places he’d never dared to in reality.
When she beamed at him, Melanie was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Emerson vowed he’d marry her as soon as his brothers were old enough not to need him so much.
“Did you hear what I said?” Melanie frowned, her eyes searching his face. “I’m leaving. We’re moving to California.”
“When?” Emerson was jerked away from his thoughts and he sat straight up. This could not happen. She would not leave him. “Why are you just now telling me?”
“I wanted to enjoy this time together with you. But we need to talk about this, make a plan so we can stay together.” Melanie’s eyes misted and he regretted the sharp edge to his words. Lifting a hand, he caressed her jawline.
“That’s right, you and I belong to each other. I love you Melanie.” Emerson tried to keep the desperation from his voice, but failed.
She sniffed and let out a sigh. “If we run away and get married, he can’t keep us apart. Then you can go to California with me. With us.” Hope filled eyes looked into his. “We’ll have to hurry though. Pa says we leave as soon as his job at the mill shop is done. That will mean we’ve only got a few days.”
She wanted to marry him. Emerson’s heart filled with joy and he cupped Melanie’s face kissing her soundly.
“Or you can say here with me. Help me raise my brothers.” In his mind, he saw her fitting right into his life there in Montana. Melanie presiding over the care of his brothers and the house, while he and Pa worked the ranch.
The silence did not bode well. Emerson took her by the shoulders, his gaze boring into her. Melanie’s eyes softened, her curls caressing his hands. How he enjoyed running his fingers through it. Now the thought of a future with her and entire lifetime together brought thoughts he pushed away, not the time for his body’s stirrings.
This was true love, no doubt about it. They were both sixteen, old enough to know what real affection was.
They’d not pushed matters physically, but came as close as two could without actually going through with losing their virginity. There was no doubt in Emerson’s mind she’d be by his side forever, so the fact that she remained tongue-tied took him by surprise. “We are staying together, aren’t we?”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I hope so, but you should come with me to California. I want to stay with my parents. They need me. You know how sickly my Ma is and now with a new baby, she can’t possibly do it all alone.”
“Your Ma has your sisters to help out. Pa needs me more. My brothers don’t have anyone to care for them.” This time he couldn’t keep the emotion from his voice. “You want me to leave them? But you won’t leave your parents for me?”
“No I won’t. I don’t want to be saddled with two kids right away. I’m too young.” Melanie scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry, Emerson.” After one last look she ran away.
Emerson sat in the middle of the clearing. The grip in his chest was so tight, he was sure his heart would stop any minute. He’d go with her. Pa would figure something out. His brothers would be fine.
A shrill scream followed by two blond boys bursting from the trees into the clearing snapped Emerson from his thoughts. The smaller boy rushed straight for Emerson. “Grant is trying to get me!” His youngest brother threw himself against Emerson’s chest, a wide grin on his face and then stuck his tongue out at Grant. “You can’t get me now. ’Merson won’t let you.”
Seven-year-old Grant’s shoulders slumped. “Not fair.” He wiped at his face smudging dirt across his cheek. “Linc took my horse.”
“Listen.” Emerson stood pulling Linc to his side. “Give Grant the horse back. You left yours at home. I made one for both of you.” The little boy extended his hand and gave the whittled toy to Grant, who grabbed it and pretended to gallop in a circle. Linc’s skinny arms wrapped around Emerson’s waist, and he looked up at him. “I tired ’Merson. I wanna go home.”
Emerson began the walk home. The five-year-old immediately held his hand. “Yeah, let’s go home. Come on, Grant, gallop this way.”
When Linc slowed, he picked him up and his brother wrapped his arm around his neck and released a content sigh.
“Let’s go home.” He was grateful neither brother noticed his tears.
* * * *
Rutgers Ridge, Montana twenty years later
A bullet whizzed by his head and struck the wall of the small barn, beside where Emerson Gentry took cover. A few inches to the left and it would have hit him square in right shoulder. He exhaled and shot twice in the direction of a small wagon the outlaw hid behind.
A woman screamed in terror. He peeked around the barrel and made out the man and someone he held beside him. At a distinct disadvantage, he couldn’t shoot blindly and take a chance to hit her. Emerson swore under his breath and leaned out to take another look.
When another shot rang out in his direction and he returned fire the horse attached to it reared up in fright moving the wagon forward. The outlaw lost his grip on the woman to control the horse.
She tried to run, but was quickly taken by the desperate man.
It became quiet, only the sound of the horses whinnying. The breeze blew across his face. The momentary break allowed Emerson to take a breath and try to figure out what to do.
On his way from his brother’s ranch, Emerson had stopped to check on the young family when he noticed a cow grazing along the side of the road. It struck h
im as strange that the farmer would leave the animal alone, not tethered or in a pen. When he’d neared, a shot rang out from inside. Not sure what happened, Emerson urged his horse to the barn where he dismounted and coaxed the animal away.
A man dragged the farmer’s wife outside with her babe in arms. Before Emerson could get a clear shot, the man spotted him and took cover behind the wagon. He scrunched down lower and crawled to the other side of some barrels. The shooter took another shot but Emerson managed to make it unscathed. He racked his brain, attempting to come up with a plan, how to stop the man from taking the woman and child captive. Somehow he’d have to put himself in harms way to draw the outlaw out.
It didn’t take Emerson long to figure out who the stranger was, he’d received a telegram about him just the day before. It was plain bad luck for the young family to be caught in a ruthless man’s path. According to his reputation, Winslow Smith would not hesitate to kill his prisoners once they’d served their purpose.
Known for his cruelty, Emerson suspected even if the man took the woman and child with him, chances were he’d kill them both before they made it too far. With narrowed eyes he exhaled and focused.
It was doubtful the outlaw would be patient. He would make a move soon. Emerson decided it was best if he did something first. Throw him off. Hope for a clean shot and take it.
“Let them go, Winslow,” he called out. “Turn yourself in. You’re a wanted man. There are posters with your face and a large reward plastered in every town and farm for miles around. You won’t get far and you know it.”
“I ain’t doin’ no such thing. Let me go on my way, Marshal, or I’ll shoot the young’un first, then the woman and kill you last.” Winslow chuckled and shot toward him again.
Four shots, unless he had a second gun, he only had two shots left. Emerson peered out again. Winslow held the woman by the neck they were crouched by the rear wheel of the wagon. From what he could see she remained calm, as if in shock.
“Come on out, Marshal. You got five seconds or the kid dies.”
The child’s wail sounded. Emerson cursed. The man would not go down without a fight.
Hell of a predicament. Winslow was wanted for bank robbery. Had a high dollar amount on his head. But Emerson would rather let him go than let the man kill two more innocent people.
Winslow took a step from behind the cover of the wagon, holding the now whimpering woman in front of him. “Put your gun down, Marshal, or this here young’uns death is gonna be on your head.” He pointed the gun at the infant in the woman’s arms and she shrieked. “I’m gittin’ on this here wagon and leavin’. And you ain’t gonna stop me. Come out, throw your gun down and I won’t kill ’em.”
He didn’t believe him, but had little choice. Emerson straightened and moved to stand next to the water barrel. “I’m going to put my gun down.” He locked gazes with Winslow. Narrowed eyes met his.
“Move slow.”
“Once I put my guy down let them go.” He lowered to the ground and placed his six-shooter onto the dry earth all the while keeping an eye on the outlaw.
“Step back from the gun.”
Emerson did as told, not tearing his gaze from Winslow. The man had a clear shot. If he wanted to kill him, it was a clear shot. He was out in the open without protection. For some reason Winslow didn’t shoot him, but seemed distracted by the wailing child. He glanced to the baby several times.
The woman and Winslow exchanged words, too low for him to hear. Pulling her backward, his eyes trained on Emerson the entire time, Winslow clumsily climbed onto the wagon’s bench.
The woman remained on the ground between him and the outlaw. Emerson eyed the distance to his gun. It was too much of a chance. He’d not make it in time to keep Winslow from shooting the woman. The outlaw looked toward him. “I am a man of my word, Marshal. Just stay where you are and I’ll be on my way.”
When Winslow snapped the reins urging the horse forward, a gunshot rang out. The horse reared up, the woman screamed and Emerson dove for his gun. He lifted to his elbows and pointed it toward the wagon. Winslow had fallen off from the bench and lay on the ground not moving.
The woman raced back toward the house with the screaming baby in her arms. A large man rushed out from beside the small family house and took the woman with the child and pulled them away from where Winslow lay.
When realizing there was no more danger, she ran to the house.
Rory, his deputy looked over at Emerson. His Irish brogue heavy. “You all right, Marshal?”
Just as Emerson took a step, two gunshots rang out and he dove back to the ground. The Irishman shot Winslow again, and then a third time. “Bastard.” He wiped his brow with a kerchief from his back pocket and spit on the ground.
“Could have warned me.” Emerson frowned at Rory and approached.
“Don’t like to see a woman being mistreated.” Rory glared toward the house. “He was going to shoot them, you know?”
“He had a reputation for being ruthless. But I don’t know, it was as if he couldn’t stop looking at the child.” Emerson picked up Winslow’s gun and searched the body, finding another one and a dagger. “It’s rumored he’s got a lot of money stashed somewhere. Guess we’ll never know.”
Rory stared down at the dead man. “It’s more than he deserved, to die like a dog in the street.”
“There’s a thousand dollar price on his head. You’ll get the reward money. I’ll send a telegram letting them know he’s dead.” Emerson reached over and placed his hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Thank you, you saved my life. I owe you.”
Rory shook his head. “If we’re keeping score, then you’re still one up on me.”
The Irishman and he went back ten years. Both spent years traveling back and forth to larger towns with prisoners working for the old sheriff of Rutgers Ridge. Several times, either the prisoners or accomplices who tried to help them escape had attacked.
“Let’s go see what happened in the house. I heard a gunshot from inside before Winslow dragged the woman and child outside. I think Winslow killed her husband.” Emerson turned toward the house. The last thing he wanted was to face what waited. No matter how long he worked as a lawman, death was always hard to deal with.
They rounded the small cabin and Emerson noted the cow had returned to graze inside its corral. The interior of the small home was dim the only light coming from the open door and small window.
The child lay in a cradle, still crying, but softer now. The house was well kept, neat and clean. From the looks of it both the woman and man were barely out of their twenties. The young woman sat on the floor next to a fallen man, his head in her lap as she rocked and cried.
The bastard had torn this young family apart and for what? Emerson would never understand how a person could do such a thing. There was nothing left to do now, but to help her bury the man who she’d barely begun a life with. He and Rory exchanged looks.
Emerson lowered to be on the same level as the woman, who continued to hold her husband’s lifeless body in a tight grip.
She lifted reddened eyes to his. “What am I going to do without him?” Tears trailed down both cheeks. “Why did he choose us, Marshal?”
“I can’t begin to guess his motives ma’am. He was wanted by the law and desperate to get away. No reason in my opinion to do what he did, to kill your husband.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Is there someone I can fetch for you?”
The woman closed her eyes and trembled. “My ma and pa, the Clarks, live just over the field a ways. John’s folks live in town.”
“Yes I know them. What is your name?”
“Eloisa Miller.” She turned to the cradle. “That’s Johnny, named after his father.” She began to cry again and taking his cue from the mother, the boy began wailing as well.
“Once we lay your husband where you’d like him, my deputy will stay here with you while I go see about giving your parents the news.”
Mrs. Miller lifted her c
hild and quieted him while he and Rory built a makeshift table, put together with wood from outside, and covered it with blankets. Once the task was completed, they settled John Miller’s body onto it.
Emerson motioned for Rory to walk outside with him. He lowered his shoulders and shook his head. “Damn shame. Young family, not hurting anyone.”
“It is,” Rory kicked a rock. “She should get the reward money. Will need it more than me. I don’t have a need for much. The job at the saloon pays me enough that I have plenty saved.”
Emerson nodded and headed for his horse. “It’s up to you what you do with it. Once I deliver the news to her folks, I’ll head to town. Up to you how long you stay.”
“I’ll wait with her for the parents.” Rory leaned against a fence and studied the surrounding area. “She won’t be able to keep this place alone.”
“Probably not.”
Emerson rode away. What started off, as a good day had gotten progressively worse. It was hard to feel anything but bad after someone lost their life. Young John Miller did nothing to deserve the death he got. While home with his family, a stranger took it upon himself to end his life.
A damn shame. Emerson grit his teeth. Too many days now he’d wondered why he remained a lawman. Perhaps it was time for him to move on and return to the life of ranching.
Then there was the business of his youngest brother. Lincoln was missing. Just a few months earlier, both his brothers were held up in the middle of the night by a band of men when returning from a cattle drive. They were viciously attacked, three farm hands killed, his brother Grant left for dead and the youngest Linc, nowhere to be found.
His disappearance left a lot of speculation, being that he was wanted for murder.
A man was found dead in his hotel room and no one knew who killed him. Just after they’d left on the cattle drive, it was discovered that McKade, a well-known card cheat, had an argument with Lincoln over a woman. A saloon girl testified having overheard Linc threatening to kill the man.
Gentrys of Montana: Gentrys of Montana Page 8
