The Secret Admirer Romance Collection

by Barratt, Amanda; Beatty, Lorraine; Bull, Molly Noble

  “Maisie!” Robert Dempsey angled her way, grinning as he sidled up next to her. “We got ’em, darlin’.”

  She stopped to look at him. “Both of them?”

  “The Freeman brothers and Joe Coppen, too.”

  The tension that had knotted her muscles since morning loosened just a bit. “What about Lucky?”

  Mr. Dempsey’s grin deepened as he motioned toward the open office door. “See for yourself.”

  She scrambled through the crowd to peek inside. Unable to see anything more than the shapes of three men in the dark interior, she stepped just inside the door to let her eyes adjust to the dim light.

  “Maisie Blanton!”

  She jerked toward Warburn’s familiar voice. “Yes, sir?”

  “You and I got some business to attend to.”

  Business? She squinted at the room as everything gradually took on more form and detail. Able to see well enough, she shuffled toward the lawman but stopped when the hazy form near the corner of Warburn’s desk turned her way.

  Lucky.

  Her pulse quickened. She flashed a quick glance toward the cell he’d so recently occupied. It held three new residents. Percy Freeman sat on one of the two cots, eyes closed and face unnaturally pale. He held his left arm above the elbow as blood oozed between his fingers. Joe Coppen huddled sullenly on the floor, elbows resting on his knees. Kane Freeman stood near the front corner of the cell and stared brazenly her way.

  Subduing the shiver that his attention brought, Maisie crossed the distance to where Lucky and the sheriff stood. “Does the fact that Lucky’s standing on this side of the bars mean that he’s a free man, Sheriff?”

  “That’s what it means.” Warburn glowered at Lucky. “But I’ll be watching, Tolliver. You trip up, and I’ll know.”

  “I just wanna go home and do my job, sir. Ain’t planning to trip up none.”

  It was probably too much to hope that Sheriff Warburn could forgive Lucky after he’d been shot by the cowhand years ago. But at least he was free. She grinned Lucky’s way, though he’d turned toward the cell.

  When Lucky turned back again, he moved nearer, blocking Kane Freeman’s glare. “Don’t care for the way he’s looking at you.”

  Warmth spilled through her at his whispered words. “Neither do I.” Maisie met the sheriff’s eyes. “So what business do we have?”

  “Let’s see. Where are…” Warburn shuffled through the clutter littering his desk, and a scrap of paper drifted to the floor near her feet.

  She scooped it up, finding the brief warning Lucky had written her in the café: “Be careful. Bad men.”

  Maisie studied the familiar words, noting the little flourishes on the letter M and each B. Just like on the notes from the flow—

  “Oh…” She gasped. The casual wordings weren’t Thomas’s. Her jaw slack and her belly fluttering, she turned. “It was you.”

  His brow furrowed. “What?”

  Before she could answer, the doctor swept in, bag in hand. “You sent for me, Warburn?”

  The sheriff stopped hunting through the papers and blew out a breath. “Pardon me a minute.” He headed toward the doctor. “In the cell. Looks to be a flesh wound, but it ain’t quit bleeding yet. Figured you should take a look at it.” He shut the office door, the room darkening as he did.

  “Dobbs…” At Warburn’s call, the occasional deputy turned to him. “Get that fella out here so’s Doc can see to his wound.”

  Lucky turned toward the cell and shifted slightly, blocking her view. She stepped to her right, but after a quick glance over his shoulder, he moved in front of her again. Confused, she squinted at his broad shoulders and stepped left, though this time, he darted a hand behind him and caught her waist.

  “Stay there.” Once more, he shifted in front of her.

  Maisie barely had time to consider the command before the metallic grate of the key in the lock sent a shiver down her spine. As directed, she held her position behind Lucky, though she peeked past his shoulder.

  “Let’s go.” Dobbs jerked the cell door open and beckoned to Percy Freeman, who made no move to comply.

  Kane glanced at Warburn. “Don’t reckon he feels like moving. Maybe you best send the doc in here instead.”

  “Freeman,” Sheriff Warburn called. “You want that hole plugged, you’ll get off that bunk and walk out here.”

  The only recognition Percy seemed to give was to open his eyes an instant then close them again.

  Dobbs cleared his throat. “You ain’t hurt that bad. Git up.”

  When he still made no move, both Doc and the deputy stepped into the cell to pull Percy to his feet.

  Percy jerked awake suddenly and lunged, knocking Dobbs backward. All three prisoners rushed to the cell door.

  As the room erupted, Lucky spun and shoved her toward the door. “Go, Maisie. Get out!”

  He gave her another shove. But when gunfire roared in the small office and the sheriff stumbled back against the door, he jerked her to him and sank to the floor. “Stay down!”

  Maisie’s heart hammered as she huddled against him. Her forehead buried against his chest, they both glanced sideways. A dark stain spread across Sheriff Warburn’s sleeve as he fumbled to draw his own gun. One peek around Lucky’s shoulder showed Kane Freeman taking aim at the lawman again with Dobbs’ pistol.

  “When I get that door open, you run.” Lucky whispered the command then lunged toward Warburn.

  Light flooded the office as the door swung open, though fear rooted Maisie in place.

  As Lucky hit the floor with Warburn, fire flared through his back. Despite it, he jerked the lawman’s gun from its holster and rolled to face the cell. With his focus on Kane Freeman, he leveled the pistol, fanned the hammer back with his other hand, and squeezed the trigger.

  The outlaw jolted, dropped to a knee.

  Lucky fumbled to cock the hammer again then took aim as Percy tried to grab the pistol from his brother. A second time he squeezed the trigger, and the gun bucked in his hand. As it did, his fingers grew weak. The Colt clattered to the floor, and his vision clouded as several men barged into the room.

  “Tolliver?” Warburn’s voice in his ear tethered him to consciousness. “Tolliver!”

  He blinked at the hazy forms, trying to make sense of them. Men…but which were rustlers, and which were posse members?

  He pried his eyes open wide, trying to clear his sight. He had to stop them. Stop Kane from getting to Maisie. Had she gotten out? Pawing at the pistol, he managed only to knock it farther from reach.

  Warburn called to him again. “Lay still now. You’re hit.”

  He lifted his head to look toward the door, though it was if he stared through a dark mist. “Maisie?”

  “Dempsey’s got her. She’s safe.”

  He lowered his head, and darkness pulled him under.

  Chapter 11

  Lucky pried heavy eyelids open, blinked a few times, and glanced at his surroundings. Nothing looked familiar, from the small, nondescript room to the narrow bed where he rested.

  “You’re awake.”

  He turned toward the angelic voice and found Maisie Blanton seated beside him. Lucky attempted to smile, though a deep ache radiated through him, and he closed his eyes to ward off the pain.

  “Lucky?” Her warm hand settled against his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  Steeling himself, he inhaled carefully and blinked his eyes open once more. Another glance around revealed an open door behind her, leading to what looked like a hallway.

  “Where am I?” It took effort to form the question.

  “In my home.” She put a glass to his lips, and he sipped some cool water. “My brother was kind enough to lend you his bed until you’re able to return to Mr. Dempsey’s ranch.”

  He squinted at her. Able to…“What’s wrong with me?”

  The smile trickled from her lips. “You were shot. In the back. Doc says you were fortunate. The bullet hit your shoulder
blade, turned, and raked across your ribs. It didn’t hit anything vital.”

  He clenched his teeth as he grew more aware of the pain. “Feels plenty vital to me.”

  Maisie laughed. “Of course, it does. I only meant that the bullet didn’t hit your heart or a lung.”

  “Right.” A moment of contemplation brought the hazy images of the scene in Warburn’s office to mind. The lawman had brought in the Freeman brothers and Joe Coppen, but they’d tried to escape. “Kane Freeman got the deputy’s gun?”

  She nodded. “Yes. You were trying to get me out of the office, and the sheriff was shot. He fell against the door. You were injured while helping him.”

  “Maisie!”

  A door in the hall opened, and Maisie scrambled to her feet as Simeon Blanton darted inside and slammed the door.

  “Simeon.” She met her brother just beyond the doorway. “Quiet. Remember?”

  The boy hung his head sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  She ruffled his hair.

  “I got what ya asked for.” He held out a big bunch of wildflowers. “You reckon he’ll like—” Simeon glanced into the bedroom and hurriedly tucked the big bouquet behind his back. “Howdy, Lucky. Didn’t know you were awake.”

  He lifted a hand in a slight wave, though confusion pulled at his thoughts. Why the sudden secrecy?

  Maisie whispered in her brother’s ear, and Simeon disappeared into another room.

  Maisie retook her seat. “I’m sorry. I asked him to gather some flowers for a gentleman I’ve grown rather partial to.”

  Lucky’s chest constricted. A gentleman? That dallying cad, Eddings.

  “He’s really quite special. Does things to help me and my family, brings me gifts. Watches over us. He even paid our bill in the mercantile.”

  But he’d paid the Blanton’s bill, not Thomas Eddings. How would the man have known, and why would he take credit for…

  Simeon reappeared, toting the pretty vases Lucky’d bought her, each one overflowing with Texas bluebells. “Is this right, Maisie?”

  Lucky’s gut clenched. She wasn’t gonna give away his vases to Eddings, was she?

  “Perfect, Sim. Thank you.” She rose, “Now where shall we put your flowers, Mr. Tolliver?”

  Lucky furrowed his brow. “They’re for me?”

  “Well, you are the one who’s been leaving the flowers, right?” Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “And the book of poetry? And the bill—”

  “Dempsey told you.” He’d begged his boss not to breathe a word.

  Simeon set his vase atop the tall chest. “Nah, Mr. Dempsey didn’t say nothing, Lucky. You talked in your sleep.”

  She sat again, depositing her vase on the bedside table. “That, and I finally recognized your handwriting when I saw the warning note in Warburn’s office again.”

  He clamped his eyes shut. “Didn’t want you to know.”

  “Why on earth not, Luke Tolliver?”

  Her stern tone drew his gaze. “I came to respect your parents when I was in your pa’s jail. I grew to love your family through the things he wrote about you. And the minute I laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted to make you my wife. But you deserve a man that can offer you more than a sullied name and reputation.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.”

  She lifted her chin. “There’s some things you should know. For one, you’re something of a hero after you stopped the Freeman brothers.”

  His sardonic chuckle sent pain rippling through him. After catching his breath, he shook his head. “Reckon Warburn loves that.”

  “Warburn said it first, and he hasn’t been shy about repeating it.”

  He stared. “You’re joshing.”

  “She’s not.” Simeon sidled up to his sister. “The whole town’s talking about what you did.”

  “Word’s started getting around about what happened with Pa, too. Folks who’ve paid us no mind for more than a year have showed up with food and offers to help. Things might be changing for us all, Lucky.” She brushed away a tear.

  For certain, her family deserved to be treated better than the Blackwater residents had in the last few years. But him—a hero, and because of Warburn’s say-so? He never figured such a day would come.

  “And you do have something to offer. Your care, your concern, your friendship and love. Those are the things that matter, and you’ve willingly given them when few others did. You shouldn’t have to hide them.”

  “Those things don’t put a roof over your head or feed your family. I ain’t nothing but a hired hand, Maisie.”

  “You let me worry about that part.”

  He shook his head. “Iffen we was to marry, I wouldn’t want you working. But I can’t take care of you and your kin on what I make.” How many times had he thought it through and come up short every time?

  “You wouldn’t have to. Sheriff Warburn helped me file to collect the reward money on the Freemans. There’s five thousand dollars coming for their captures. That’s more than enough to pay what we owe on our ranch and get a small herd to stock it again. We could build from there.”

  The picture she presented took shape in his mind, and he wobbled a grin at her. “Sounds real nice, but—”

  “But what?”

  “Somethings a little backwards here. Ain’t it the man’s place to ask his woman iffen she’ll marry him?”

  Maisie’s cheeks flamed crimson. “It should be, but if I wait on you, I fear you’ll get so tongue-tied, you’ll never ask.”

  Oh, he’d ask, and right soon.

  Epilogue

  One month later.

  You make a lovely bride, darlin’. Your pa woulda been proud.”

  Maisie’s belly fluttered at Robert Dempsey’s whispered words. If only Pa could have been here. She clung a little tighter to her friend’s arm.

  Lord, is he able to see this? Would he be proud?

  She could only hope.

  When the music began, both she and Mr. Dempsey stepped through the doorway into the church. For an instant, Maisie’s feet stalled as she took in the sight of each pew overflowing until people were forced to stand at the back. Had they really all come to celebrate her marriage to Lucky? Much had changed in a short time.

  She turned her focus toward the simple altar where her groom stood, dark eyes sparkling and a wide grin on his face. At Mr. Dempsey’s slight nudge, she pried her feet loose and walked to the front of the church.

  The music ended, and the pastor cleared his throat. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  Mr. Dempsey winked discreetly at her before he looked the pastor’s way. “At her ma and pa’s request, I do.”

  Just that quickly, he placed her hand in Lucky’s work-roughened palm and took his seat. As she faced her groom, she drank in the sight of him in his dark suit and string tie.

  Roguishly handsome, and finally hers.

  She tried to focus on the words the reverend spoke, but her mind wandered over every detail of his features. Somehow, she managed to repeat her vows, though the words blurred together until—

  “You may now kiss your bride.”

  Lucky stepped nearer, cupping her face with one hand. “Been wanting to do this for a long time.” The whispered words were so low only she would hear.

  “Then quit yapping and do it, Luke Tolliver.”

  He circled her waist with his free arm, and her hands settled against his chest. His lips brushed hers tenderly, though he pulled back after an instant. At his tiny smile, her heart fluttered until she was sure it would come clean out of her chest. She rose on her tiptoes and met his lips again. This time, they lingered, Maisie drinking in his warmth and nearness.

  Finally, they broke the kiss, and she settled her forehead against his, her eyes half closed. He caressed her cheek. When the pastor cleared his throat softly behind them, Maisie turned a flame-cheeked gaze toward their guests.

  “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Luke Tolliver.”

&nbs
p; Arm in arm, Lucky walked her down the aisle to the back of the church. Outside, he whisked her around the corner and into a small office. He closed the door softly, settled his back against it, and pulled her into his arms.

  For a long moment, she stared at her husband. His brown eyes sparkled as he gently stroked her cheek, a grin sprouting across his lips.

  “You’re looking rather pleased with yourself,” she whispered.

  “Just thinking how the prettiest gal in Blackwater is wearing my last name.”

  She laid her head against his chest. Maisie Tolliver.

  After a moment, he stirred. “I bought you something.”

  “You did?” She looked up at him.

  He waved to a chair where a small paper-wrapped package sat, a festive blue ribbon adorning the outside. “Open it.”

  Maisie picked up the small parcel and, handing it to Lucky, glanced at the note he’d written on the crisp brown paper: “To my beautiful bride, Maisie.”

  She ran her finger over the flourishes of his letters then tugged the ends of the ribbon. The paper loosened, and she peeled it away to reveal a leather-bound diary.

  “Oh, Lucky.” Maisie turned it over, studying the rich brown cover before prying the clasp open to study the blank pages. Tears welling, she looked up at her husband. “This has to be the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.”

  He laid the diary aside and pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms once again. “I did good, then?”

  “Better than.” She nuzzled against him. “I feel bad though. I didn’t get you anything.”

  “I don’t need nothing. Just you. Although…” He pulled back and looked at her. “There’s one favor you could do me that’d feel like a gift.”

  “What?”

  A shy look, reminiscent of the man who could barely speak two words to her, crossed his face. “I, uh…” He shook his head. “I’ve grown partial to you calling me by my given name.”