Outlaw's Bride

by Maureen McKade

  Kevin wiped his hands on a towel. “He’ll be fit as a fiddle in no time. In fact, I think the most difficult task now will be to keep him in bed for a few days.”

  “You’re probably right,” she said faintly.

  Her thoughts returned to Clint and Amelia. Together. Like she and Clint the night before he left. Amelia was a married woman, which in Mattie’s mind made the deception even worse.

  Mattie’s fingernails dug into her damp palms. How had she been such a fool?

  Kevin stared at her a long moment. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  Mattie folded her arms across her stomach to conceal their trembling. “I never expected to see him again, especially this soon.”

  “It doesn’t change anything, Mattie. He’ll leave you again.”

  She closed her eyes against the pain, knowing he was right. Even if she hadn’t seen Clint with Amelia, she had pledged herself to Kevin. “I know that.”

  Kevin cleaned his medical instruments and Mattie dried them, her motions mechanical and her mind numbed.

  “Are you going to tell him about the baby?” Kevin asked, his thin features pinched.

  “I promised I wouldn’t,” Mattie said, sharper than she’d intended. She looked away guiltily—she had considered telling him. It didn’t seem right not to tell Clint about his own child, especially since she knew he had wanted children. Her conscience had fought a battle, and her promise to Kevin had come out the victor.

  Besides, Kevin would make a much better father than Clint. He was a doctor, a man to look up to and admire. Clint lived in a world where violence was the norm rather than the exception.

  Mattie shivered—she didn’t want her children growing up in that kind of world.

  No, she wouldn’t tell Clint about the baby. The future of her unborn child, as well as Andy’s, depended on her remaining silent. She’d succumbed to temptation once with Clint—she couldn’t afford to do it again.

  The front door opened and a few moments later Clint stepped into the examination room. His presence sucked the air from Mattie’s lungs and she lowered her gaze to the surgical tool she was drying.

  “How is he?” Clint asked, gesturing toward the sheriff.

  “He’ll be fine,” Kevin replied formally. “He will have some stiffness in that arm, however, for an extended length of time.”

  Mattie knew Kevin was barely holding his dislike for Clint in check, but she couldn’t blame him.

  “How long?”

  “Weeks, maybe months, depending on how fast his body can adjust,” Kevin replied. “He’s not a young man anymore.”

  Mattie’s gaze skipped over to Walt’s grizzled face. The older man had been like a father to her ever since Jason’s death. It was scary to see him so still, so pale. Why hadn’t he retired when she asked him?

  She inhaled a shaky breath. She was going to have a serious talk with Walt once he was feeling better. And this time he would listen to her.

  A tingling at the base of her neck made her glance up to see Clint studying her. “Could I talk with you, Mattie?”

  “About what?” Kevin demanded.

  Clint scowled, clearly not appreciating Kevin’s interference. “That’s between Mattie and me.”

  “Anything you want to tell her, you can tell me, too.” He wiped his hands on a cloth, then placed a proprietary arm around Mattie’s shoulders.

  For a moment, she wanted to push him away, but realized Kevin was perfectly within his rights. Besides, Clint had to understand she was no longer available. He would have to make do with Amelia.

  “She’s going to be my wife,” Kevin announced.

  Clint shifted his gaze to her, his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “Is that true?”

  Mattie lifted her chin and met Clint’s eyes. “Yes.”

  She forced herself to hold his gaze. Why couldn’t she stop caring? Why did her belly still flutter with anticipation at his presence?

  Clint took a step toward her. “Are you certain about this, Mattie?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

  Damn him for coming back and filling her with indecision, after she’d spent hours convincing herself to marry Kevin. She shifted her gaze to her fiancé, to the hesitancy and concern in his eyes. There was no doubt Kevin cared for her, and she owed him her loyalty, if not her love.

  Swallowing hard, she reached for Kevin’s hand and grasped it firmly. “I’m sure, Clint. Kevin and I will be getting married in two weeks. You’re welcome to attend the wedding, if you’re still in town.”

  Clint flinched at her last words. She hadn’t meant to say them, but at least she’d made her point crystal clear. She couldn’t count on him to stay around.

  His gaze darted to their joined hands and resignation stole across his handsome features. “All right,” he said softly. “If that’s your decision, I have to respect that.” He fingered the brim of his hat. “And I think I will stay around for the wedding. I haven’t been to one in years.” Clint offered Kevin his hand. “Congratulations, Dr. Murphy.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Kevin shook his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Beaudry.”

  Mattie’s heart climbed into her throat. She hadn’t expected Clint to take the news so well, but then what had she expected? That Clint would declare his undying love for her?

  That wasn’t his way. That much, she knew.

  “Are you going to check on the prisoner?” Clint asked. “He’s got a bullet wound in the leg. It looks like it went clear through and bled a lot. He’s going to need some stitches.”

  Kevin nodded. “We’ll go over there.”

  “What about Walt?” Mattie asked. “We can’t leave him alone.”

  “I’ll sit with him,” Clint volunteered.

  Kevin blinked in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve sat with wounded men before.” He smiled crookedly, endearingly. “I’ve even done my share of patching up bullet holes.”

  Mattie’s heart tripped. His boyish smile still turned her bones to jelly and her brain to mush. How was she to endure knowing he was in town these next two weeks, without throwing herself into his arms again?

  She would hide in her home and not come out until the day of the wedding. Yes, that was the only solution.

  “If he wakes up, make sure he doesn’t try to move around. He needs to lie still for at least a day so the wound can begin healing. If he’s in pain, you can give him some laudanum.” Kevin handed Clint a brown bottle. “But only a teaspoon or two.”

  Clint set the bottle aside. “I can handle it.”

  Mattie watched him draw up a chair beside Walt’s bed. Moisture clouded her vision, and she recognized the maudlin tears as a symptom of her condition. While she’d been carrying Andy, even a butterfly’s flight could make her cry. However, knowing the reason for her tears didn’t give her any more control over them.

  “Let’s go, Mattie,” Kevin said softly.

  She moved as if her body were someone else’s, allowing Kevin to guide her out the door. Once on the boardwalk, she felt her control returning.

  The worst was over. She’d done the right thing. She’d spoken the words to Clint that dismissed him and tied her to Kevin.

  So why did she feel so bereft?

  Clint listened until Mattie’s and the doctor’s footsteps faded away. He took a deep breath and clasped his shaking hands, then dragged them across his forehead and over his head, resting them at the base of his neck.

  He’d arrived too late. She had told him that Dr. Murphy was seeing her, but he hadn’t expected the man to move in so quickly after he’d left. He admired the doctor, though he’d be hard-pressed to say he liked him. How could he, knowing Mattie would be in Murphy’s arms every night after they were married?

  And why had he told them he’d stay for the wedding?

  “You’re a glutton for punishment, Beaudry,” Clint muttered.

  He sat back in his chair, his shoulders slumped. Now what? He doubted he could sit around for two wee
ks without going crazy, especially knowing Mattie’s place was just up the road. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay there. The physical temptation would be too great, and she’d end up hating him.

  Maybe she did already.

  Atwater’s hand moved and Clint straightened. The sheriff opened his eyes, closed them, then blinked in the subdued light.

  “Just relax, Sheriff,” Clint said softly, laying a hand on his arm.

  Atwater turned his head and focused on Clint. “Wh-what the hell … happened?”

  “The bank was robbed,” Clint replied. “Do you remember?”

  Atwater’s gaze traveled inward and after a few moments he nodded. “Two men. One of them … shot me.”

  “Don’t worry, we got them.”

  Atwater’s lips turned upward. “Thanks, Beaudry.” He tried to move, but stopped abruptly and groaned. “Is it bad?”

  Clint shook his head. “Doc says you’ll be fine. Hit the right shoulder. Nothing that won’t heal with a little time.” He glanced around. “Want some water?”

  “Yeah.”

  Clint stood and went into the kitchen. He filled a glass with cold water from the pump. When he returned, he slid his hand behind the old man’s head to raise it slightly and lifted the cup to Atwater’s lips. The sheriff drank most of it.

  “Thanks,” Atwater said.

  Clint set the glass on a counter that held shiny medical tools, then returned to his chair.

  “Didn’t you leave?” Atwater asked, his voice stronger.

  Clint grinned. “I came back.”

  Atwater continued to stare at him.

  Clint planted his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands. “I had to see her again.”

  “Mattie?”

  “Yeah.” He attempted a smile that fell short. “Guess I’m too late.”

  Atwater remained silent for a long moment, then asked the same question Clint had asked himself. “Now what?”

  “I don’t know. I said I’d stay around for the wedding, but it’s still two weeks away.” Clint met Atwater’s gaze. “Orville Johnson asked me to fill in for you while you’re laid up.”

  Atwater’s chuckle quickly changed to a grimace. “Didn’t waste no time, did he?” He coughed raggedly.

  Clint grasped the other man’s arm firmly. “Take it easy. Just relax.”

  Atwater’s cough abated, though his face remained flushed.

  “I told him no,” Clint said quietly, drawing back from the sheriff.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I still have to track down a murderer. Besides, I don’t want the responsibility again. I guess it was like you said—I just couldn’t handle it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Startled by the sheriff’s outburst, Clint shook his head in confusion. “Make up your mind, Atwater.”

  The older man reached out and gripped Clint’s sleeve. “You were a damn good lawman, Beaudry.” He panted to regain his breath. “You just … got to realize you’re only human … like the rest of us.” He released Clint and closed his eyes.

  Clint turned Atwater’s words over in his mind. He had been a good marshal until Emily’s murder. He’d protected a lot of people; how many others would be dead if he hadn’t done his job?

  How many might have died today if he hadn’t returned? Mattie could have been one of them. What hand had steered him back to Green Valley to arrive in the nick of time? His feelings for Mattie had triggered his return, but the timing was something fate or whatever controlled.

  Just like Emily’s death. The same hand of fate that had enabled him to save Mattie had not allowed Emily to live. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault she’d died.

  “Take my badge, Beaudry.” Atwater’s low voice startled Clint. “You’re the only one … I trust with it.”

  “Why are you so sure you can trust me?”

  Atwater opened his eyes and smiled. “Lawman’s instincts.”

  Clint chuckled. Reluctantly, he stood and walked over to the pile of Atwater’s clothes. Picking up the vest, he stared at the badge. He’d vowed never to wear one again, yet here he was, considering pinning another badge onto his shirt. He glanced down at the Colt on his hip. Badge and gun went hand in hand.

  What would Mattie think? Hell, what did it matter? She was marrying another man.

  With trembling fingers, Clint unclasped the pin and removed the badge from Atwater’s vest. He closed his fingers around it, and the star’s points gouged into his palm.

  His gaze flickered over to Atwater, who watched him silently, his shrewd eyes narrowed.

  “You know what that badge stands for,” Atwater said softly.

  Yes, he did. He understood the risks, but he also knew the good he could accomplish. Opening his hand, he pinned the badge to his black bib shirt, above his heart. His breath caught in his throat, but the badge felt … right.

  It was all he’d had before, and it was all he had now.

  “You can stay … at my place. Big enough,” Atwater said quietly. He dragged in a noisy breath and said, “She doesn’t … love him.”

  Clint walked back to the man’s bedside. “Who?”

  “Mattie and the doc.”

  “She’s marrying him.”

  “Ain’t the same thing.” Atwater stared up at Clint, his expression paternal. “If you love her … you can’t let her … marry him.”

  Clint pictured the stubbornness in Mattie’s eyes and the pride that stiffened her spine when she’d told him she was certain about her decision to wed the doctor. Had there been love in her tone? Her eyes? He couldn’t remember seeing it.

  Yet she hadn’t told Clint she loved him, either.

  He sat back down in his chair and noticed Atwater’s even breathing. The man had fallen asleep.

  Clint crossed his arms and rested them against his chest. He had some pondering to do and some decisions to make. On one hand, he had the promise and his gun, and now a badge.

  On the other was Mattie.

  He heard the doctor’s voice a few moments before the door opened. Without looking, he knew Mattie was with him. He could feel her presence like a ray of sunshine across his shoulders.

  “How is he?” Clint asked when they entered the room.

  “I sewed up the entrance and exit wounds. He’ll be ready to stand trial,” Dr. Murphy assured him.

  Clint stood and turned to face them, preparing himself for Mattie’s reaction. Her gaze fell immediately to the badge and her eyes widened.

  “You told Mr. Johnson you wouldn’t do it,” Mattie said.

  Clint shrugged. “The sheriff talked me into it.”

  The doctor crossed over to Atwater’s side. “How did he seem? Was he in a lot of pain?”

  “Some, but he’s a tough old coot,” Clint said fondly.

  Mattie eyed him warily, as if she were looking at a stranger. “How long will you be sheriff?”

  “As long as I need to be.”

  Her violet eyes remained suspicious.

  “Unless you want me to leave.” He offered her the challenge, prepared to go if she asked him to.

  “It’s a free country. You can do what you want,” she said coolly.

  Clint squelched his smile. Same old Mattie—filled with enough pride to choke a horse. He had time to learn the truth, and he would, too.

  “Since you’re both back, I think I’ll head on over to the bathhouse and scrub the trail dust off.” He sidled a glance at Mattie and noticed a pink flush in her cheeks. So he could still make her blush—that was a good sign. “By the way, where’s Atwater’s place?”

  “Why?” Murphy asked.

  “He said I could stay there. I figure it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to stay at Mattie’s, seeing as how she’s engaged to you.”

  Her pink cheeks bloomed to red.

  Murphy scowled. “About a block down from the jail. The house needs painting, but it’s in good shape.”

  “It’s the one with the rosebushes in front,” Mattie volunteered. “His w
ife used to raise them. She gave me some to plant at my place.” She glanced away, her eyes glistening suspiciously.

  Clint resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss away her sadness. He wanted to take her fishing, and tease her about not baiting her own hook and allowing Fred the Second to get away. But more than that, he wanted to waltz with her in the middle of the night, then carry her to bed and make love until dawn.

  “Didn’t you say you were leaving, Beaudry?” Murphy’s curt question broke into his pleasant musings.

  Clint smiled lazily. “I’ll stop by later this evening, see how he’s doing.”

  “I’ll be here,” Murphy said.

  His meaning was as clear as day. He didn’t want Clint hanging around Mattie.

  “Nice to see you again, Mattie,” Clint said, allowing his gaze to roam from her head down to her toes and back up.

  He turned and sauntered out of the office, pausing on the boardwalk to listen to Mattie’s and the doctor’s low voices.

  Clint knew he was playing with fire, but for Mattie, he’d risk getting burned.

  Chapter 18

  The kitchen door opened and Mattie looked up to see Herman enter as he removed his slouch hat.

  “I hear Beaudry’s back,” he commented, sliding into his chair.

  He’d been back five days now and she hadn’t returned to Green Valley since the day of the attempted bank robbery, not even to attend church service on Sunday. Between the guilt of not telling him about his child and her seesawing emotions, she couldn’t take the chance of seeing him alone.

  “Good for him,” she muttered. She speared a piece of side pork in the frying pan and placed the meat on a platter, realizing she sounded like a petulant child. She stabbed another chunk of welldone meat, taking out her anger on the defenseless pork.

  Herman cackled. “That hog’s already dead, Mattie. Don’t need to kill it twice.”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward, praying for patience to get through another day. “Have you seen Andy?”

  “He was milkin’ Jewel.”

  Mattie pivoted and planted one hand on her hip. “That’s supposed to be your job. Andy’s is to gather the eggs and feed the chickens.”

  “The boy already done his, so I jist let him do mine, too. He asked me if he could, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad.”