Never Marry a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  “Daughter, wife, mother, friend—it doesn’t matter what I am; who I am is Elizabeth. You can be a viscount, an earl, a king, a farmer, and you’re still Christopher.”

  “A farmer?” The thought was incredible enough to make him want to burst out laughing.

  “Nothing wrong with being a farmer.” He heard the solemnity of her voice and was grateful he hadn’t laughed.

  “I can’t see me as a farmer.”

  “Don’t reckon your brother ever saw himself pickin’ cotton or herdin’ cattle.”

  He sighed heavily. “No, I don’t suppose he did. A farmer, heh?”

  She started to walk and he fell into step beside her.

  “I could always use some help around here, if you’re of a mind to stay.” She darted a quick glance his way.

  He smiled. “I’ll consider it.”

  “No you won’t.”

  “You’re right. I won’t.”

  “Still feeling lost?” she asked.

  “Not as much, although I must apologize for getting you out of bed—”

  She interrupted him with a burst of laughter. “You are the most apologizingest man I’ve ever met. Friends are supposed to be there when you need them no matter what the time or situation.”

  “But it seems I’m the one always in need of you. I can’t see that I’ve given you anything in return.”

  “You spared me from having some lonely evenings.”

  “That hardly suffices to make us even, especially since I benefited from those evenings as well.”

  She shook her head. “Friends don’t keep a tally sheet.”

  “Perhaps not,” he murmured. He walked her to the porch, said goodnight, and watched her disappear into the house. He had not known Elizabeth long, and yet he knew he would always carry the memory of their evenings together with him.

  Kit crouched beside the bed and watched his wife sleep, carving her features onto his memory. The past week, returning to Fortune, had been hard on her. She would no doubt sleep the day through, which he preferred.

  She would awaken to discover that she was a widow, but at least she would not have to go through the worry of waiting to hear the news.

  How ironic that their roles had reversed. He had married her because she was dying, and now he was the one who faced death. He considered waking her, but he did not wish his last memory to be gazing into eyes that no longer sparkled.

  He much preferred the memory of her sleeping.

  The shooting would no doubt awaken her. He should not have accepted Jasper’s terms so readily. He had not considered that meeting these men at the south end of town would give those within the boardinghouse a clear view of the fight. He could only hope they had the sense to keep down and out of the way.

  He laid a white rose beside her on the pillow before unfolding his body. For all the hardship and sorrow that had come at the end, he would not trade a single moment of the time he’d spent with her. The joy she had brought him could not be measured, but it would carry him through eternity.

  Quietly, he walked out of the room and down the stairs, where another goodbye awaited. Unfortunately, this one would not be silent.

  He knocked on the door to his family’s room. Christopher flung open the door, worry clearly etched on his face.

  “What are these rumors I’m hearing about some ruffians calling you out?” Christopher demanded.

  Kit stepped into the room and closed the door. “Good morning to you, as well.”

  “Damnation, Kit. Mrs. Gurney said that a notorious band of outlaws—”

  “Mrs. Gurney tends to exaggerate.”

  “Perhaps, but she does not lie. I want the truth.”

  “You heard correctly. There is to be a duel of sorts at noon. The gauntlet was tossed, and I accepted the challenge.”

  “Why in God’s name did you do that?” Christopher asked.

  “Because I’m the marshal—”

  “Who doesn’t wear a gun!” Christopher snatched up a dime novel from the bedside table. “The Marshal Who Didn’t Wear A Gun. This is you, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t use pistols, but I’m skilled with a rifle.”

  “A rifle? You’re going to engage in a duel with a rifle?”

  Kit sighed heavily. “It’s not a duel as you envision it. An outlaw has taken offense because I hit him, and later, when he was attempting to rob the stagecoach upon which I was traveling, I killed two of his men. He wants justice.”

  “Justice? Justice would be him hanging from the nearest gallows.”

  “Yes, if we were in civilized England, which we are not! He has threatened to burn this town to the ground, and by God, he will do it if I don’t meet him and his men at noon.”

  Christopher straightened his shoulders. “Then I shall stand as your second.”

  Kit had never loved his brother more. “You bloody well will not. Your doing that would leave Ravenleigh without an heir, and that possibility I will not tolerate.”

  “Then I shall stand in your stead.”

  Kit shook his head. “You can best serve Ravenleigh and me by staying here.”

  Christopher glared at Kit, not only doubting his brother’s words, but wondering why he was damned eager to partake in a duel that according to Mrs. Gurney he had little chance of winning. “The whole purpose in our journey was to bring you back to England. Now is as good a time as any for us to take our leave.”

  “The safety of this town falls upon my shoulders,” Kit said with determination. “Granted, I indulged myself for several weeks and left it without a keeper, but that does not lessen my obligation to its citizens. Unfortunately, I have many things yet to finish. I have a list—”

  “You don’t think you can win?” Christopher asked, dread creeping along his spine.

  Kit met his gaze squarely. “Not against six.” He smiled cockily. “But I shall take as many into hell with me as I can.”

  He extended the paper toward Christopher. “I would ask that you see to my plans. Ashton wishes to return to her brother in Dallas. Make certain that she arrives there safely. I’ve spoken with the banker. My money shall be placed into a trust that you shall oversee. Ashton is to have everything her heart desires, and when she…”

  Christopher watched his brother swallow as though he fought unbearable emotions.

  “I want you to make arrangements for one white rose to be placed upon her grave every day. The remainder of the trust is to be given to St. Mary’s infirmary in Galveston for medical research.”

  Christopher shoved the words past the knot in his throat. “I swear that I shall ensure that all is managed to your satisfaction.”

  “Thank you.” Kit turned to his father. “I realize, sir, that I have been a constant disappointment to you, but I want you to know that you have never been a disappointment to me. A son could not have asked for a better example of a father. I did not read your journal as Christopher suggested, for I saw no need in doing so. You always placed the welfare of Ravenleigh above all else as your duty dictated. And now I shall see to mine.”

  Christopher watched tears surface within his father’s eyes and willed him to say the words that needed to be spoken. Instead, his father simply gave a brusque nod and turned away.

  Kit glanced at his watch. “Well, I’d best be off or I’ll be putting out fires.” He extended his hand toward Christopher. When Christopher took it, Kit pulled him close, hugging him tightly. His voice was low, rife with emotion. “For what it’s worth, I understand why you could not be with Clarisse at the end. I will not deny that I loved her, but I know now that my love was not equal to yours. I’m grateful she had you, Christopher.”

  Christopher felt an ache in his chest that threatened to crush his ribs. Words clogged his throat as Kit abruptly released him. He watched his brother stride to the door, jerk it open, and freeze.

  Grayson Rhodes and Harrison Bainbridge stood just beyond the threshold, guns strapped to their thighs.

  “What in the bloody he
ll do you think you’re doing here?” Kit demanded.

  “You’re skilled with a rifle,” Harrison said, “but I wager you can only shoot four, which leaves one for Gray and one for me.”

  “Neither of you has ever killed. Believe me, it’s not something you want on your conscience.”

  “And you think knowing our trusted friend died with no one beside him is something we prefer to have on our conscience?” Harrison asked.

  “Bloody hell, Harry. You’re right handed. You need that hand to hold a cane, not a gun.”

  Harrison angled his chin defiantly. “I only need the cane to walk. I can stand for quite some time without it. I can easily release the cane and quickly draw my gun—”

  “And leave your wife a widow. Has either of you given any thought to that? Or to the fact that your children will be raised without fathers?”

  “We both discussed our decision with our wives through the night,” Grayson said.

  “And they gave you their blessing?” Kit demanded.

  “They gave us their understanding,” Grayson said.

  Kit shook his head. “Knowing that they would give you a burial?”

  “Not if we stand together,” Grayson said. “You’ve stood by us in the past, Kit. You can’t expect us to abandon you now. We came here together—”

  “No man has ever had truer friends, but this fight is mine and mine alone. I wounded Jasper’s pride. I’ll not have others pay the price for my actions.”

  “You also killed two of his men while they were breaking the law attacking a stagecoach with robbery in mind. Now he’s threatening our town,” Grayson pointed out. “Everyone else may think this is your fight, but not I. I haven’t worked as hard as I have these past five years so some arrogant ass can destroy my happiness. I’ll not have my wife and children threatened by the likes of men such as him. If he wins, Kit, in the end we all lose, because more of his ilk will follow. I say we stand together now so we won’t have to tomorrow.”

  Kit sighed heavily. “There’s not a bloody thing I can say to change your minds on this matter, is there?”

  “Not a thing,” Grayson and Harrison said at the same time.

  “Then I’ll need to deputize you so everything is legal.”

  “By all means,” Harrison said. “I don’t fancy a hanging shortly after I’ve become a hero.”

  Christopher couldn’t believe his brother was chuckling as he closed the door behind him. He turned to his father, who was staring at the portal through which his first born son had just disappeared.

  “After all you’ve just heard and witnessed, do you still feel that I shouldn’t have told Kit the truth?”

  With Gray and Harry flanking him, Kit walked down the center of the dusty street. Now and then, he saw someone peering out a dirty window, but for the most part the citizens had apparently heeded his advice and sought cover far from anyplace where a stray bullet might strike.

  “You are not to draw your guns until one of them makes the first move,” Kit commanded his comrades.

  “I’ll wager that little rule ensures that at least one of us gets shot,” Harry said caustically.

  “It’s the law,” Kit pointed out. “To do otherwise changes our actions from self-defense to murder. I shall attempt to convince them to turn themselves over to me—”

  “You’ll be wasting your breath on that endeavor,” Gray cut in.

  “Still, I shall try.”

  Six men sauntered out from between two buildings at the far end of town. Kit’s mouth went as dry as the dirt his boots were kicking up. “Regardless of how things turn out, I want you both to know that I have always considered it an honor to have the privilege of calling you friend.”

  “Don’t get sentimental. We may make it through this yet,” Harry said.

  “And if we don’t,” Gray said, “we shall reign together in hell. I wager it must be cooler there than it is here.”

  “I’ll take you up on that wager,” Harry said.

  Kit couldn’t prevent himself from smiling. No man had truer friends.

  They halted a short distance away from Jasper and his five comrades. Kit doubted that they would stand as firmly by Jasper.

  Jasper spat tobacco into the street. “Well, Marshal, you ready to meet your Maker?”

  “No, actually, I’m here to arrest you.”

  “Arrest me?”

  “Yes. I know you are responsible for the deaths of at least three men. I’ve written up a detailed account of the stagecoach robbery in which you participated, and I’ve forwarded it to the stage line, as well as several law enforcement officials in neighboring towns. I’ve included a sketch so they’ll be able to spot you a mile away. Surrender to me now and I shall do all within my power to see that you go to prison and not the gallows.”

  Jasper scoffed. “Surrender? Are you loco? I’m fixing to put you six feet under.”

  Kit slowly, steadily moved his gaze from one man to the other until he’d given all six a pointed glare. “Then when you are ready, gentlemen, take your best shot, for I guarantee you that it shall be your last.”

  Ashton awoke and smiled at the white rose resting beside her on the pillow. Kit had been here, and no doubt left her to sleep. She picked up the flower and inhaled the sweet scent.

  Dawn had been easing over the horizon before she’d finally fallen asleep, Christopher’s words tumbling through her mind. Her husband wasn’t a murderer. He was a savior. Why had she ever thought otherwise?

  She sat up in bed and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. A few minutes before noon. Kit had probably already had his breakfast and was now either visiting with his family or working in his office. She needed to talk with him, set things right between them.

  She would still go to Dallas, but at least there would be no hard feelings between them. His place was in England, not beside her. But she wanted him to go with a clear conscience and the knowledge that she now understood his actions. She was not completely comfortable with them, but she also realized she was in no position to judge him.

  She scrambled out of bed and quickly donned the dress he’d purchased the night before. She smiled as she glanced in the mirror. A perfect fit.

  She unbraided her hair, brushed it vigorously, pulled it back, and tied a bright yellow ribbon around it to hold it in place. She would go to greater lengths to make herself attractive later. Right now, all she wanted was to see Kit, to explain that she understood, and to tell him that she loved him.

  She opened the door and hurried down the stairs. Mrs. Gurney stood at the window in the front room, staring out.

  “Mrs. Gurney, have you seen my husband this morning?” Ashton asked.

  Mrs. Gurney spun around, horror reflected on her face. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Didn’t tell me what?” Ashton asked, foreboding sweeping through her. Had he already left to accept his place at Ravenleigh?

  Mrs. Gurney bit her knuckle and shook her head. “Land o’goshen, he should have told you.”

  Christopher walked out of his room and held his arms out toward her. “Ashton, come here.”

  She took a step back, afraid for reasons she couldn’t understand. If Christopher was still here, then Kit hadn’t left, but everyone was too solemn. “Where’s Kit?”

  “It’s them outlaws,” Mrs. Gurney blurted. “They called him out, and he’s facing them this very minute.”

  “Outlaws?”

  “The men who attacked the stagecoach,” Christopher explained. “Apparently, they are to have a duel.”

  “A duel? You mean a gunfight?”

  Christopher looked surprised. “Yes, of course, guns are involved in a duel.”

  Ashton shook her head, refusing to believe what she was hearing. “No, no. It’s not a duel like you think. It’s a bloodbath. He’ll be killed. We have to stop it!” She began running for the door.

  Christopher grabbed her, holding her close, pinning her body against his. “It’s too late to stop it.”
r />   She fought to break free. “You don’t understand. He thinks I hate him. I have to tell him that I understand now. I love—”

  She heard exploding thunder, a deafening cacophony as round after round was fired.

  “No!” she cried, slumping against Christopher, her body trembling and tears streaming down her face. “No.”

  But neither her words nor her tears could stop the echo of gunfire.

  Chapter 24

  “I need a bloody drink,” Gray said, a tremble in his voice.

  “I need a bloody bottle,” Harry responded, his voice equally shaky. “Two bottles. Three. Three bottles sound quite extraordinary. Shall we each have three bottles of whiskey?”

  “None for me,” Kit said, as he walked toward the men sprawled over the ground, their blood seeping into the earth. Such a damned waste. But at least the town was safe from this particular group of outlaws. As were stagecoaches and saloon floors.

  “Harry!”

  Kit glanced over his shoulder and watched Jessye throw her arms around Harry’s neck. Harry latched his mouth onto hers with such passion that Kit knew a pang of envy.

  Harry leaned back. “I couldn’t leave Kit to face them alone.”

  Tears filled Jessye’s eyes as she nodded. “I know.” She looked past Harry and held Kit’s gaze. “Would have been here myself if I wasn’t afraid we might leave our daughters orphans.”

  “You made the right choice, Jessye,” Kit said quietly. “You always did where your daughters are concerned.”

  She picked up Harry’s cane and handed it to him. “Let’s go home and give those girls a hug.”

  Harry slipped his arm around her. “Let’s stop by the saloon and pick up a bottle of whiskey on the way, shall we? Then I feel a strong need to practice giving you a daughter.”

  “I’m already expecting.”

  “Yes, but I need to stay in practice so I can give you another.”

  A movement caught Kit’s attention, and he turned to see Abbie walking toward Grayson. She stopped within an arm’s reach of him. “I lost you once before. Don’t know how I would have survived losing you again.”

  Grayson drew her into his embrace, lifted her off the ground, and kissed her deeply. When he released her, he said, “Let’s gather up the children and go on a picnic.”