Taming Elijah (The Kincaids Book 1)

by Stacy Reid

  ***

  Elijah and Joshua rode into Blue Lagoon just after sundown. The town itself seemed subdued, not bustling as a Tuesday evening was usually. It was as if the town’s people themselves waited. Elijah scanned the storefronts, and the lighted hotel at the end of the street. The only raucous laughter came from the Velvet Lady’s Saloon.

  “I can kill him before anyone realizes what is happening,” Joshua murmured. “Avoid the potential fallout.”

  Elijah said nothing. Sullivan was a vicious bully, and there was only one way to deal with such a man. A part of Elijah wished he could plant a bullet in him and be done with it. But Elijah had never been the type to kill in cold blood, no matter how much the bastard deserved it.

  He glanced at the bank and then the livery near the saloon. “Where will you position yourself?”

  Joshua looked toward the livery. “I will be able to cover the saloon and the streets from there. There will be blind spots. I can only see so much through the grimy windows. Ensure you watch your back,” he drawled.

  “Try not to kill anyone,” Elijah ordered.

  He ignored Joshua’s mocking gaze, dismounted and led his horse to the hitching post and loosely tied its reins onto it.

  Elijah walked along the boardwalk instead of the street preparing for the fight. He would only kill Sullivan if he had no alternative. He stared at the sheriff’s office next door to the saloon. As if on cue, Vincent came to the door and leaned on its frame. He tipped his hat at Elijah and there was a knowing look on his face.

  “What do you think Vincent will do?” Joshua asked, “He seems mighty calm for a man who knows his brother’s reckoning is on its way.”

  “He is a fair man.”

  Elijah felt Joshua’s gaze.

  “A fair man who knew of the assault on Sheridan, but his jail cell is empty?”

  Elijah heard his brother, but he also understood blind foolish loyalty. And that was what Vincent had for his brother Sullivan in spades. Sullivan was reputed to own the law in the town, but Elijah was sure he did not own his brother Vincent. And from their history Elijah knew Vincent to be an honorable man.

  A few of the town’s folks tipped their hats to Elijah and he nodded in acknowledgement. Many glanced at the guns strapped to his hips, then retreated into their homes and businesses drawing the shutters. Yet many remained outside.

  When Elijah reached the Velvet Lady he pushed open the double door and stepped in. Each of his senses were concentrated on the man that sat in the left corner of the saloon. Jericho Sullivan. Elijah heard a distant hoot and knew that Joshua was positioned outside on the roof of the livery. Watching and waiting.

  The dancing females stumbled to a halt and peered at him in curiosity through the dim lighting. Laughter spiraled from some of Jericho’s cronies but was swiftly swallowed. Elijah stepped deeper into the smoky interiors and the silence spread as the patrons slowly noticed him. Dozens of eyes assessed him, noting the guns, and his demeanor.

  The sandy haired killer rose to his feet at Elijah’s approach, but Sullivan remained slouched in his chair, a bottle of whiskey cradled in his palm. His eyes, though, stared at Elijah hard and vicious. Sullivan believed Elijah would be calling him out, forcing a gunfight. But that was the furthest thing from the truth.

  “Jericho Sullivan,” Elijah’s voice was soft, but he had everyone’s attention. Even the bartender had stopped polishing the counter. “You are a coward. A yellow bellied coward that would threaten and terrorize a woman, because you think she is alone.”

  Elijah stood silent, waiting. He understood the depth of his insult and from the tightening around Sullivan’s lips he had not missed it either. Bartley’s eyes had widened into a comical dismay and he stared slack-jawed at Elijah. One did not go around calling a man like Sullivan a yellow-bellied coward.

  The sandy haired killer lurched forward drawing his gun in one smooth movement. Before he could hammer back his weapon, a sharp crack sounded in the room. The two other men flanking Sullivan who had been rising to their feet froze.

  The sandy haired killer stared at Elijah with incomprehension, and then the boy looked down in a daze at what remained of his hand. Hell. Joshua’s Spencer had torn right through the boy’s wrist and blood spewed in an arch. He passed out cold. The sandy haired boy would never draw with his right hand again.

  “I have every man in here covered,” Elijah said walking closer. “This is between me and this coward. Anyone who moves to interfere, will fall. Test the truth of my words.”

  The problem with Sullivan gaining a reputation as a tough, ruthless man was that a time would eventually come when he had to become that man. He would need to prove his mettle to everyone by not relying only on his foot soldiers. Knowledge seeped into his eyes and a surge of hatred lit up his blue sneer.

  “You want to be a big man, Sullivan. But you’re nothing but a nasty bully, and I aim to teach you what it feels like to be powerless,” Elijah said coldly.

  “I have no need to fight you for a whore,” Sullivan snarled into the painful silence.

  Elijah smiled. He was not sure what Sullivan saw in his face but he blanched before wiping his expression.

  “I expected a yellow-bellied snake to use such an excuse.”

  Sullivan fancied himself tough, a gunfighter, when in truth he didn’t want anyone beating him, or taking the fight to him. Elijah had seen enough of his ilk in the war.

  A round of murmuring swept the saloon and Elijah heard what he was waiting for. Soft questions and angry whispers of how tough Sullivan was and how scared Elijah should be. Sullivan heard the words as well and Elijah enjoyed the moment Sullivan realized he had been backed into a corner. His face flushed a furious color. He didn’t like having no way out unless he wanted to look small before the townsfolk.

  Sullivan rose slowly from his chair and removed his gun belt and hat. He was tall and brutish and weighed at least sixty more pounds than Elijah. Elijah unslung his guns, removed his hunting knife and dropped it on the table nearest to him.

  Sullivan charged and Elijah dipped into a crouch and slammed his fist into Sullivan’s gut, dropping him on his ass. With a roar he was up, and he charged Elijah head butting him. They tumbled out, rolling through the saloon doors and over the hitching rail fencing.

  Elijah felt the rattle deep in his body as they slammed into the dirt. There were several exclamations and a short scream which was cut off rather abruptly. Before Elijah could recover, Sullivan slammed a fist into his ribs then another. And Elijah realized some of the rumors about Sullivan were true. The man was a fighter. He rolled him in the dirt, but Elijah got to his feet first. He smashed a left to Sullivan’s head splitting his cheekbone wide open, and then smashed him on the jaw with a powerful right. Elijah took a few jarring fists from Sullivan before he allowed himself to sink to that cold bitter place that had saved him countless of times. Fist fighting was Elijah’s element and he had the bully right where he wanted him, and now he would break him. Elijah ducked under a right hook, responding with his own right fist to the ribcage and a quick left to the jaw. Sullivan stumbled backward, and Elijah let his combinations fly, dancing around Sullivan’s punches and defenses. Elijah’s relentless rage penetrated through to Sullivan’s befuddled brain, but he was sobering up fast. He staggered, but Elijah did not let up. He used the memory of Sheridan’s tear stained face, her fear, and the hands of Bartley beneath her skirt, the knowledge they would have raped and broken her for money, to subdue any mercy he had.

  Elijah did not know how long had passed before he realized it had been awhile since he had been hit. The sweat cleared from his eyes and Sullivan was still standing, but the man’s face was a mess of purple bruises, small cuts, and streaming blood. Sullivan wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve with a hand that shook. Elijah stepped to him and slammed his fist into Sullivan’s jaw and he fell into the dust, hard. No one m
ade any sound and none of his men intervened.

  Bartley made a move toward them, and dust kicked at his feet from a rifle shot. A few people scattered but most remained frozen. Elijah scanned them and then settled on Sullivan. “Mrs. Galloway belongs to the Triple K. I will kill you if you do not relinquish the claim you believe you have on her. If any harm befalls her, even if they were not of your bidding I will hold you accountable. But the next time I will not whip you, I will kill you.”

  Sullivan nodded under Elijah’s piercing scrutiny. Sullivan’s shoulders drooped and Elijah was sure the fight had gone out of the man. Sullivan knew he had been beaten and beaten well. He lurched to his feet, and stumbled into the saloon, not looking anyone in the eyes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sheridan had painstakingly avoided Elijah for most of the week. Well his bed at least. She’d told him she was on her monthly flow. But slow fear had been building inside her during the last few days. Everything had been going so well. They had fallen into a comfortable routine. He’d spent the days working on the range with the men, overseeing new hires and when not on the range he had poured over the accounts with her, and planned expansions and investments. He dined with her every night, but wariness had slowly seeped into his eyes whenever she spoke of the future. He had been carefully withdrawing from her since his visit to town to deal with Mr. Sullivan.

  And while she had been waiting for the axe to fall, she never imagined it would happen in such a manner. Her monthly courses had in fact not appeared. She should have been ecstatic, but all she could do was dread Elijah’s reaction. Sheridan did not want to leave Whispering Creek now when it seemed that Sullivan had finally heeded Elijah’s warning. Not when Elijah had been so carefree for the first time in years. It was far too soon. He still woke in the night with terrors chasing him, and he was still tight-lipped about the past. He refused to say anything about Emma or Nathan since leaving the cabin. And she understood. She was patient and she would wait for the day he unburdened his heart to her. The rage he must feel toward Emma, and his own guilt. Sheridan would be there when he was ready.

  She sat with Beth in the parlor, gut churning with apprehension. “I think I may be with child.”

  A dazzling smile split Beth’s lips to disappear at Sheridan’s lack of obvious joy. “Why are you not happy? Sheridan, you look very pale.” Beth hurried over to her.

  “I—” Sheridan thrust a hand through her hair, her breath sawing harshly from her throat.

  Beth grabbed her hands and squeeze. “There are times when I miss my monthly and it does not mean anything. Do you have any other signs?”

  Sheridan swallowed. “My breasts are sore…incredibly so, and I chucked up my food this morning. That was when Mrs. Murphy said I may be with child.”

  Beth nodded. “That is what happened to me when I carried Grayson.”

  The room spun and Sheridan weakly leaned against the settee. “I cannot be,” she moaned. How could it have taken just one night in the cabin?

  “I do not understand, Sheridan!” Beth cried. “Is this not what you wanted? To have a babe with Elijah?”

  “Yes! No! Not until he loves me,” she murmured in anguish. “Not until he himself wants another child, not until he sees me as a strong woman that can stand by his side.”

  Beth stared at her with rounded eyes. “He has a child?”

  “Had. A boy of four years, and he lost him in the most vicious way.”

  “Is that why you were so silent at dinner? I thought it unusual how little you responded to the conversation.”

  “Yes. What am I going to say? I…I—”

  “You’ve always wanted a child, cherish the blessing you were given. I think you should—” Beth broke off at the slow closing of the door.

  Sheridan turned around in the settee and her heart stilled. Elijah strode in with Grayson in his arms, his face a neutral mask. Had he heard Beth? She searched his face wildly, looking for signs of anger. Her fingers clenched in her skirt until her knuckles ached. Nothing was said, but tension stole into the room and Sheridan despised the dread that filled her.

  He handed Grayson to Beth and then looked at her. Elijah’s mask slipped and the look in his eyes frayed her. She turned her attention toward the open windows unable to meet the condemnation in his gaze. She heard the door closing quietly as Beth slipped out.

  “Sheridan.”

  He said her name too softly. She glanced at him and almost fainted. His eyes smoldered with unnamed emotions. He moved toward her with a cold air of lethal efficiency and sat on the settee opposite her. She desperately wanted to move and could not.

  “Are you with child?”

  Buried underneath the question she could hear the fear and pain, and in that moment, she wished she had just packed and leave the ranch. It became difficult to force air past the sudden tightness in her throat. “No.”

  The distance in his eyes grew, and Sheridan could not move despite the frantic racing of her heart.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  Her heart clamored. “Maybe.”

  Confusion rushed through her at the slant of his lips. Why was he smiling? He certainly did not seem amused.

  “Why do you think you are with child?”

  He waited for her answer with a patience she admired. Her nerves were shattered and she felt as if her hope was destroyed. She had sworn to herself she would never lie to him again, but the truth was unbearable to speak. Heat crept up her face. “I missed my monthly…and I have been feeling queasy.”

  “Ah,” His gaze pinned hers. “So you lied to me about bleeding?”

  “Yes, but I—”

  “Be quiet.”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his at his cool command. His eyes were curiously devoid of any emotion. Her hands shook when she realized she looked at indifference. “I panicked when I realized I was late. I thought if we made love you would notice the difference in my breasts and how painful to touch they were for me. I wanted time before I told you. I do not want us to be married like this—”

  “Take it. Go east. Assume widowhood. If you chose to stay at the ranch I will not oppose you remaining. This land belongs to you as well. Sullivan has been dealt with, and I have hired over eighty ranch hands. Miguel is fully recovered and you will be safe. I had already decided to go back to the mountains.”

  He spoke flatly as if he had not just shredded her soul and destroyed all the hopes that she harbored for a home and a family. She welcomed the surge of anger that pushed away the pain. “Our child is not an ‘it’.”

  Nothing flickered in his face. “I will be leaving tomorrow.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I was not speaking in parables. I am leaving.”

  “Because of the baby?”

  “I decided days ago I would not stay. It was never my intention to stay. You knew that, Sheridan.” He rose and walked away.

  “You are a coward,” she snapped.

  His frame jerked and she slowly stood as he turned to face her. Tears tracked down her cheeks and she did not care if he saw them and thought her weak. “I will never be able to imagine the horrors you endured losing Emma and Nathan. And I don’t expect you to just move on. I expect you to hold them in your heart and keep them there for the rest of your life. But I am not a weak woman that you need to run from, one that will suffer if you are not there. The very fact that you are leaving the ranch shows that you believe I can handle myself, Elijah. I love you and I believe you love me. But you are too much of a coward to reach for what is in front of you.”

  She stepped closer to him. “I will be there when the nightmares are overwhelming, and the pain is so much you cannot cope. I will also be there for the happy moments. The joy and wonder of our child, or children. I would never dream of replacing the memories of Emma and Nathan, but allow me to help you cherish the precious ones and
to heal. I am willing to fight the memories, the doubt, the nightmares, and men like Sullivan for a chance of happiness with you. Do the same for me, Elijah, and our baby.”

  She bit back a cry as his face shuttered and he walked away without a backward glance. Sheridan remained frozen, pain ripping at her insides. She would have to let him go. She might love him with her entire heart, but it would be pointless to fight for a man who was not willing to let his past go and embrace a new future. She had never felt such pain and loneliness as she did in that moment. She rested her hands against her stomach and closed her eyes. She really might be pregnant. And she would never regret it. She may have lost the battle to win Elijah, but at least she would have his child and a home.

  If only her victory did not feel so hollow.

  ***

  Elijah shifted in the saddle, staring into the inky blackness of the night. No stars loomed. He gritted his teeth, dismounted and quickly built a fire. He kept the fire small, using the driest wood. He spread his blankets and bedded down. It was impossible for him to spend the night in the house with Sheridan. For fear he would go to her and do something foolish. Something foolish like telling her to hold him tight, conferring some of her strength and warmth to him.

  How could he retreat back to the mountains now? But damn it, how could he have her stay in a place as vicious as the West. Not just Wyoming. Anywhere in the west was not good enough. She needed to go east or sail the oceans and return to her homeland. But he knew he could not do that to her. This was her land. But damn it…he could not stay either.

  He had stayed a couple more weeks on the ranch watching for Sullivan’s next move. Joshua had been keeping watch on Sullivan’s ranch and word had slowly filtered into town that Sheridan Galloway was off limits. She was under Kincaid protection. Elijah knew it was more than the beating he’d given Sullivan which had done it. Some of the cowhands spoke of Joshua’s intimidating presence in the saloons in town, and the hints that he had dropped in the right ears. Many a man had scrambled to reassure him that they never knew Mrs. Galloway was under the Triple K’s protection.