by Jo Goodman
"He's my deputy," Ethan said to Rennie, ignoring Michael's slur. "And when your mother and sisters go to the valley tomorrow, he'll be staying with you."
Rennie blinked widely. "Staying with me? Not likely. Hollis and I will be staying at his parents' home, and your deputy isn't welcome."
Michael looked at her sister, dismayed. "Rennie, what about your honeymoon? You don't mean not to go?"
"Of course I mean not to go," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving you alone here while those criminals are free. I may even be able to help. There's no reason you should put yourself or the baby in danger, not when I can take your place."
"I won't have it." Michael punctuated her statement by stamping her foot. "You're not going to do anything of the sort."
"Oh, dear," Moira whispered.
Mary Francis sought the calming influence of her rosary beads.
Maggie and Schyler exchanged knowing glances.
Ethan wished he could pull out his gun, fire off a few rounds, and be done with the arguing. How could Jarret have deserted him now? "You," he said sharply, pointing to Rennie, "not another word. I'm here to take care of your sister, and that's what I plan to do. I've discussed it with Jay Mac and it's settled. Jarret will be looking after you, and there will be absolutely no heroics on your part."
Rennie's mouth opened and closed. She could think of a hundred names to call him and not one that could be said in church.
Michael stared at Ethan, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. "You can't speak to my sister that way," she said.
"It seems he just did," Mary Francis said practically. She stepped away from Moira and turned on Michael. "And he's making some sense. You've not taken anything having to do with those criminals seriously. I, for one, am comforted that Mr. Stone is at least willing to look to your best interests. You've ignored Papa's warnings, and you've been thinking of no one but yourself since you learned of the escape."
Rennie watched Michael's face flush at Mary's words. Mary Francis was serenely soft-spoken; yet she was capable of delivering a tongue-lashing that left one smarting for days. Though she agreed with everything Mary was saying, she still felt sorry for her twin.
"Mary," Michael said imploringly, "how can you say that? I've been anything but selfish. I've tried not to interfere in Rennie's wedding plans or make my problems any part of your lives."
"That's just it," Mary said. "We're family and you're treating us all as if we're strangers. Do you think any of us is really unconcerned? Look at Mama. Do you think she's not worried about you? And Rennie? Rennie's prepared to take on the world on your behalf. Do you think she's underestimating the danger to you?"
The room was silent. Michael stared at Mary, blinking back tears. She looked helplessly at her mother, then at Rennie. Maggie looked away guiltily and Skye plucked the bouquet.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, tears trickling past the corners of her eyes. She shook her head as if she could not believe what she had done. "I'm so sorry."
Rennie started to go toward her sister, but it was Ethan who reached her first. Rennie stopped and watched, her heart in her throat as she saw Ethan hesitate, his dark lashes lowered, hiding the longing, the universal vulnerability, as he risked rejection. His deep whiskey voice was a mere whisper as he said Michael's name. What would her sister do?
Michael turned and stepped into Ethan's arms.
Skye slipped Ethan a handkerchief. He brushed at Michal's tears and kissed her forehead. Her hard belly pressed against his middle, and he felt his child kick. His breath caught and he waited, wanting to feel it again.
Something of what he felt, the enormity of the responsibility, the wonderment of the moment, showed on his face. Moira and Mary nodded approvingly. Schyler grinned. Maggie sighed wistfully.
Only Rennie frowned. It was borne home to her that she would never share a moment like that with Hollis Banks. She couldn't imagine Hollis being so deeply or spontaneously touched. Suddenly she ached inside.
Ethan was talking now, something about taking Michael home, that he loved her and wanted to protect her, but Rennie only listened with half an ear. The hollowness she felt made Ethan's words echo strangely in her head. She came out of her trance when she heard her name.
"I can't leave," Michael was saying. "Rennie's wedding."
Rennie noticed that Marshal Stone was looking distinctly uncomfortable. His hands fell away from Michael, and the sun lines at the corners of his blue-gray eyes deepened as he winced. He glanced at Rennie briefly and looked away.
"About the wedding," he said slowly. He'd have rather faced a herd of stampeding buffalo, a blizzard in the Sierras, or Nathaniel Houston with his gun drawn, than have to explain what Jarret was most likely doing. "You see, I had a conversation with Jay Mac today," he began again, "and he expressed some doubts about the impending marriage."
Rennie's hand flew to her mouth. She looked wildly at her twin and saw her own fear mirrored there.
"Ethan," Michael said, "what's going on? What have you done?"
"I haven't done anything," he said. "I've been here, haven't I?" He saw them all nod, Michael and Rennie a little more reluctantly than the others. "But Jarret, well, I think he's gone off to strike a deal with Hollis Banks. I doubt there's going to be a wedding."
* * *
At Jarret's request the organist had stopped playing the wedding prelude. "Thank you," Jarret said politely. His hand fell away from his gun, and his duster draped the weapon again. "Now, if you'll just point out the groom."
A shaking finger obliged, indicating the man in earnest conversation with three ushers.
"Thanks again," Jarret said. He tipped his hat and started down the steps from the choir loft at the rear of the chapel. His unusually light tread on the stairs was the only thing that could be heard in the silent chapel. Even Hollis Banks had stopped talking as Jarret approached. Guests turned in the pews and watched Jarret's progress down the long center aisle toward the groom. Their heads swiveled as he passed, their eyes darting to one another in question.
Hollis Banks drew away from his friends. He took a step toward Jarret and stopped and waited.
Jarret Sullivan had formed a picture of Rennie's intended. Hollis Banks looked nothing like that picture. Hollis was as tall as Jarret, husky, but not heavy. He had powerful shoulders, a broad face, and a wide chest. His dark brown hair was clipped in the latest style, parted in the middle, and slicked back with Elgin's Hair Tonic. His mustache was neatly waxed, and his side-whiskers followed his strong jawline. He was wearing a black morning coat, dove gray trousers, and shoes almost as shiny as his hair. His mouth was set tightly. His dark eyes were hard. He did not seem the sort of man one would describe as a milksop.
What had Jay Mac been thinking? Jarret wondered. But he knew. John MacKenzie Worth wanted this wedding stopped, and he was not above lying to get his way. The corner of Jarret's mouth curved in a self-mocking smile. Ten thousand dollars had seemed like a lot of money in Jay Mac's office. He should have held out for more. He bet Jay Mac would have paid it.
"Hollis Banks?" Jarret said, stopping less than two feet in front of the man.
Banks nodded curtly. His shoulders were set squarely, his feet planted firmly. His narrowed eyes held both curiosity and disdain. They darted over Jarret, taking in the wrinkled and dusty clothes, the tear in the jeans at the knee, the worn boots and sweat-banded hat. The outline of the gun was unmistakable under the duster.
Jarret was unmoved by the censure he saw on Banks' broad features. He nudged his hat upward with a forefinger. "Sorry about the interruption. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"
Banks' eyes widened slightly, his surprise evident. "You do understand you're interrupting a wedding?"
Jarret looked around as if he'd taken no account of his surroundings before. The congregation was sitting on the edge of the pews, their ears cocked toward the altar rail, as they hoped to hear some portion of the conversation. There were vases of orange blossoms and baby's brea
th decorating the windowsills. The ushers behind Hollis were dressed similarly to the groom, their crisp breast pocket handkerchiefs folded in a triangle. The priest was facing the guests; the altar boy had just finished lighting the candles. He turned back to Hollis. "By God, you're right. Except for the absent bride, it has all the earmarks of a wedding," he said.
A ruddy flush started at Hollis's neck and passed over his face. "I do not suffer fools gladly," he said tightly. "State your business and leave."
"Here?"
Hollis hesitated. "Oh, very well." He glanced at the ushers behind him. "Give us three minutes." He turned and headed for a door off to the right of the chapel.
Jarret grinned at the ushers. "I gather I'm expected to follow." He fell in step behind Hollis.
When they were alone in the small room where the altar boys put on their robes and the priest made last minute notations on his sermon, Banks turned sharply on Jarret. "Your name and your business?"
Jarret was slow to respond, glancing around the room as if time were of no account. Eventually his gaze settled on Banks, and he offered with quiet purpose, "Jarret Sullivan. I've just come from a meeting with Jay Mac. I'm prepared to offer you one thousand dollars to leave Rennie at the altar."
For a moment Hollis Banks was struck dumb. His mouth parted slightly, his eyes widened, and no hint of comprehension touched his features. Then he laughed. He had a big, booming, hearty laugh. His eyes crinkled, and tears appeared at the corners. His shoulders shook. It was loud, infectious laughter, and outside the room Jarret could hear the titterings of the guests as they caught the sound of Hollis's genuine enjoyment.
"Pardon me," Hollis said. He took the sharply folded handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his eyes. "All of a thousand dollars, eh? That doesn't sound like Jay Mac. Are you certain you met him?"
Jarret drew his Remington and pointed it at Hollis's chest. There was no longer any evidence of a smile or any indication that Jarret had found anything amusing-ever. "There's this as well," he said calmly.
Hollis arched one dark eyebrow. "Jay Mac told you to kill me?"
"Let's say he didn't tell me not to."
"I see." Hollis eyed the gun consideringly. "I wonder who he has in mind to take my place."
"Can't say. Rennie's pretty enough, I guess. She'll find another stallion to corral."
"I wasn't referring to being Mary Renee's husband. I meant with Northeast Lines. I'm Jay Mac's vice president of operations."
Nothing showed on Jarret's face, but he was damning John MacKenzie Worth. He shrugged.
"Does Mary Renee know what you're doing?"
"I've already spoken to her, yes. She's in the side chapel with her sisters and mother."
Hollis Banks looked at the Remington again. He'd never had a gun pointed at him, but his estimation of Jarret Sullivan was that the man was prepared to use it. "Nate Houston," he said slowly.
This time Jarret's surprise showed. He blinked. "What?"
"Nate Houston," Banks repeated. "That's who you are."
There was something not quite right with Banks' assertion beyond the fact that the vice president of operations was dead wrong. Rennie's fiancé had the proper look of a suddenly frightened man. A bead of perspiration had appeared on Hollis's forehead, and his eyes darted nervously between Jarret's face and the gun, something they hadn't done before. Yet something didn't ring true, and since Jarret couldn't put his finger on it he played along. "How do you figure that?"
"It wasn't all that difficult. You could only be Marshal Stone or Nathaniel Houston. Jay Mac's been warned that Houston escaped and might come here. That would bring Stone on his trail."
"That so?"
Banks nodded, his eyes dropping uneasily to the Remington again. "I imagine the marshal would only be interested in Michael, especially since she's carrying his child. And Mr. Worth would never offer a thousand dollars to stop Rennie's wedding."
"Actually, that's my offer." Jarret's smile came slowly, and it hinted at something intimate, something Hollis Banks would understand. "I've taken a fancy to Mary Renee."
"Which makes it reasonable to assume you're Nate Houston. How else would a man like you have come by the thousand dollars?"
Jarret raised his gun slightly at Banks' condescending assertion. "It's hard to say, Mr. Banks. After all, this is a world where a man like you could become Jay Mac's son-in-law."
Hollis didn't answer immediately. The mask of fear slipped, and the look he gave Jarret was long and thoughtful. "Careful planning," he said at last.
The answer was just about what Jarret had expected. It appeared more and more as if the impending marriage was no love match. "Reconsidering taking the money? Or is a bullet more to your liking?" Holding the gun steady, Jarret reached into his back pocket and pulled out a clip of twelve hundred-dollar bills. It was all the money he had in the world, most of it won during the long poker game on the rail ride east. He hoped Jay Mac meant what he said about the ten thousand.
Pinching the money between his thumb and forefinger, Jarret held it out for Hollis to take. At the same time he slowly drew back the hammer on his Remington. "There's not much time," he said. "Your friends will be coming in after you. Will they find you on the floor or a richer man?"
Banks raised his hand carefully, palm out. It wavered between the gun and the money and then went for the money. "Rennie will never believe this happened, Mr. Houston. She trusts me."
"But I don't." Jarret dropped the money just as Hollis's fingers would have closed around it. Hollis reacted predictably, bending as he tried to grasp the bills. He didn't see the descent of the Remington as Jarret brought it down on the base of his skull. Grunting softly, Hollis collapsed, the money on the floor beside him just outside his grasp. Jarret prodded him gingerly with the toe of his dusty boot. There was no movement.
With some reluctance Jarret left his money where it was, tucked his Remington away, and took the side door exit so that he wouldn't have to face the congregation. Estimating he had less than a minute before Hollis's friends found the unconscious groom, Jarret hurried along the outside of the church and entered again from the front.
He ran headlong into Rennie as he stepped into the side chapel. Jarret's arm swung around her waist, steadying and securing her in the same motion. Glancing around, he saw that Ethan and Mary Michael were gone. "He's taken her to the hotel then?" he asked.
Moira, Mary Francis, Mary Margaret, and Mary Schyler all nodded. Mary Renee balled up her fist and hit him in the stomach. "Of course he's taken her," she snapped, struggling to be free of Jarret's iron grip. "You don't see Michael, do you?"
"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed."
His calm and his faint smile were infuriating. He hadn't even winced at her punch, but then, she thought, his belly was as hard as his head. She would probably have bruised knuckles, and he hadn't felt the least pain. "Will you kindly let me go?" she asked stiffly.
Jarret ignored her and looked at the others. "Actually, it's time we all left. There's not going to be a wedding... at least not today."
Mary Francis's smile was serene as she touched her rosary. "Thank God for that."
Rennie sucked in her breath, and Jarret's arm naturally settled more tightly around her. "Mary! How can you say that?" She raised her eyes to Jarret and demanded sharply, "Will you please remove your arm? I'm going to—"
Moira rushed forward as Rennie slumped in Jarret's embrace.
"She's fine, ma'am," Jarret assured her. "Just fainted. Does she do that often?"
From across the room Maggie whispered dryly to Skye, "Only when she's held in a vise."
Skye smothered a giggle behind her hand.
Jarret slipped his free arm under Rennie's knees and lifted her. "She's not pregnant, is she?"
Mary Francis stepped forward to support her mother. "I think you forget yourself, Mr. Sullivan. We're grateful for your help as well as for your interference, but that doesn't give you leave to ask such personal questio
ns."
He felt himself flushing under the soft rebuke. "Beggin' your pardon, Sister."
This time Maggie joined Skye's quiet laughter. Having been on the receiving end of Mary Francis's admonishments more than a few times themselves, they felt a faint tug of empathy for Jarret Sullivan.
"We have to be going," Jarret said. "There's a carriage waiting out front that will accommodate all of us. I don't expect things will remain quiet for long." He was referring to Hollis Banks unconscious in the chapel, but he could have spoken the same words of Rennie. He felt her stirring in his arms. "Quickly. We should leave now."
Moira shook her head. "I can't leave. What will our guests think? I must stay behind and make our apologies."
"I'll do that," Mary quickly promised her mother, giving her a gentle nudge toward the door. "You go with Mr. Sullivan. Skye. Maggie. You, too. I'll speak to everyone." She stepped back and pointed in the direction of the door. "Hurry. Before Rennie starts fussing."
Before Moira could voice another protest, Maggie and Skye ushered their mother into the hallway and out the large oak doors. Jarret turned to follow but stopped when he felt a light hand on his shoulder.
"She's not pregnant," Mary Francis said. "But you should treat her gently nonetheless. My sister is all snap and spit when she needs to be but here—" Mary touched her own heart—"she's tender."
Jarret frowned, not certain he understood. "I've signed on to protect her, Sister, not provoke her."
"I'm not sure you can help it," she said softly, smiling her beautiful, enigmatic smile.
Rennie was shifted in Jarret's arms as he shrugged. "Hollis was out cold in that little room at the front of the church. Except for an aching head he'll be all right."
"He fought you for Rennie?" she asked, puzzled by the possibility.
"No, I dropped him when he accepted the thousand dollars I offered to call off the wedding."
"Oh, dear." It was quite an effort not to laugh. "Rennie won't think much of Hollis for that."
