Morrow Creek Runaway

by Lisa Plumley

  Holding back a laugh at her eagerness, Miles waited. He pretended dubiousness. “I’ll have to know a few things first.”

  “Anything.”

  “Well, first…” Miles gazed at the ceiling in thought. “Do you know that the only thing that hurt more than my broken bones and lumps and bruises over the past few days was missing you?”

  Her gaze softened. “Oh, Miles. I missed you, too.”

  He swallowed around a suspiciously sentimental-feeling lump in his throat, then went on. “Did you know,” he continued, still holding her hands, “that the only thing I ever wanted more than finding you was being with you? That I searched for you and dreamed of you, and when I finally, finally found you—”

  “I’m sorry I ran away.”

  “—all I wanted to do was hold you in my arms forever,” Miles confessed roughly. “But you were suspicious, and you had a right to be, and I knew I should tell you how I came here and why. But once I looked into your eyes again—”

  “It’s all right, Miles. I forgive you. I do.”

  “—I knew I couldn’t risk losing you again. So I didn’t say anything.” Full of contrition, Miles lifted her hand in his. He raised his gaze to meet hers, too. “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m so sorry for Bouchard following me here, for putting you at risk, for putting you through that awful experience. I didn’t mean to.”

  “I already told you I forgive you.” Rosamond sniffled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “We both made mistakes.”

  “Walking away from you was the worst thing I ever did,” Miles told her, his voice broken with emotion. “I didn’t care about anything. Not living, not dying, not seeing out of my right eye the way God and Doc Finney intended.”

  A startled laugh broke from Rosamond. Then, “Wasn’t there supposed to be a proposal in here someplace? I distinctly remember hearing something about a proposal.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m getting to that.”

  “Well…” Urgently, she gestured. “Hurry up.”

  “Don’t you want to take this slowly? To savor it?”

  “Savor it?” Rosamond shook her head. This time, one of those tears slipped down her cheek—but its downward slide didn’t break Miles’s heart, because they were together now. “I’ve been waiting my whole life not to be lonely anymore, Miles. If you make me wait more than about thirty seconds longer, I swear I—”

  Miles glanced at the mantel clock. Holding her hand, he fell to one knee. Masterfully, he managed not to groan in pain.

  “Rosamond McGrath Dancy,” he said, gazing raptly up at her, “I’ve waited a whole lifetime to make you mine. I need you like I need breath and rain and long slow nights to hold you close. Without you, I feel broken. With you, I feel whole. I love you more than I can say and more than I can prove, but I promise you that I’ll move heaven and earth to make you happy. If you agree to be mine, I’ll run the risk of dying of joy, but since I’m pretty far gone already, I reckon I’ll take that chance.”

  Beautiful and smiling, Rosamond gazed down at him. Her presence and her patience and her awe-inspiring bravery pulled him through.

  “So please, Rose. Please for me and for you, for all the happy days to come and all the crackers we can share,” Miles begged, “please say you’ll be mine. I love you, Rose. Please, please say you’ll do me the honor of marrying me.”

  Urgently, surprised to find he was shaking, Miles looked up at her. He’d laid his heart out bare. Now all that remained…

  …was for Rosamond to surprise him again?

  “Yes, Mr. Callaway. I will marry you!” She yanked him to his feet with a mighty and undoubtedly unwise tug. “Yee-haw!”

  Miles couldn’t help laughing. “Did you just say yee-haw?”

  She shrugged. “It’s what happens in all the best proposals. I have it on excellent authority.”

  “I see.” He beamed at her. “I guess that’s good?”

  “Nope. Loving you is good,” Rosamond disagreed with an impish tilt to her smile. “In Morrow Creek, an occasional yee-haw is simply good manners. It’s an important distinction.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so. Also…” Rosamond stepped nearer. “I say I love you, too, Miles. You saw what was broken in me and you didn’t shy away. You saw what I needed, then stood by me while I got it. You pushed me just enough and you argued just enough—”

  “I disagree with that,” he objected complacently.

  “—and you did a mighty fine job of rescuing me for a man who’s been contrary the whole time I’ve known him.”

  “That was just part of my brilliant plan, ma’am.”

  “I’m grateful for it, too.” Rosamond gave him a contemplative look. “I’m sorry to tell you, however, that this proposal is not yet complete.”

  Hellfire. Wondering what else he might have done better, Miles raked his hand through his hair. “It’s not?”

  “No. Not until I do this.” With both hands, Rosamond grabbed his shirtfront. She pulled him nearer. She brought her mouth to his in a kiss so sweet, so heartfelt, so moving…

  “Yee-haw!” Miles said when it was finished.

  Rosamond gave him a questioning look.

  “Just being polite,” he explained with a cocky grin.

  Then he pulled her into his arms and repeated that kiss—again and again. Because if there was one thing that Miles knew about second chances, it was that they were rare. That meant that they had to be treasured…preferably with another kiss or twenty to prove that a proper amount of reverence was present.

  “I’m awestruck by you, Rose.” Satisfied, Miles stroked back her hair—all the better to see her beautiful face. “You’re the woman I’ve dreamed of. You’re amazing, inside and out. If I could only figure out what I did to deserve you—”

  “I think it’s better if I keep you on your toes.”

  “—I would do it again and again, just to bring you joy.”

  “Aw. Too late.” Rosamond lifted to kiss him again. “You already have.” She thought about it. “Although there is one thing you can still do for me…”

  Looking unexpectedly vulnerable, she whispered her request in his ear. Miles frowned. “That’s all you want? Really?”

  Silently, eyes shining, Rosamond nodded.

  “All right. I’m just the man for that job.” Deliberately, Miles escorted them both right up to the parlor door. Beyond it, shuffling could be heard. Clearly, all the ladies in Rosamond’s household were awaiting the outcome of Miles’s proposal.

  He smiled. “Why, Rosamond!” Miles bellowed at the top of his lungs. “You’ve made me the happiest man on earth!”

  A chorus of excited squeals came from the other side of the parlor door. Then, applause. On Miles’s side, though…

  Rosamond gazed up at him with evident delight. “Thank you, Miles. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  “It’s nothing but the truth,” he said, taking her hand again. In this, as in everything, they were united. “Ready?”

  Rosamond nodded. “Ready.”

  Then Miles opened the door and they walked out into the melee together, ready to grab hold of love with no reservations, no misgivings…and no time to waste.

  Epilogue

  Filled with love—and a fair quantity of delicious biscuits, courtesy of Libby Jorgensen—Rosamond sat around her dining room table on the night of her first and last marriage proposal, laughing with her new fiancé and her onetime security men and all her friends, hardly able to believe her good fortune.

  She wasn’t alone anymore. She wasn’t afraid, either.

  Because of everything that had happened, Rosamond had a real home, a real family and a passel of biscuit-gobbling children to light up her life. She had a respectable and flourishing mutual society to call her own. She had the memory of finally being the one to inspire a bent-knee proposal.

  That event had thrilled her beyond compare.

  Rosamond leaned toward Miles. “I hope I didn’t hurt you ear
lier when I hauled you to your feet so I could say yes.”

  “You mean yee-haw?” Miles asked with sham confusion.

  She didn’t take the bait. What were a few yee-haws between them? “You seem pretty tough, but you’ve been through a lot.”

  “Nothing that wasn’t worth it,” he assured her.

  “Still, you’re hurt pretty bad.” She was sorry for that. Without her there as a lure, Arvid Bouchard and his men would not have come for Miles. “If our local posse hadn’t already run the responsible parties out of town, I’d wallop them myself.”

  While Rosamond had been preoccupied with feeling miserable, several of the Morrow Creek men—Jack Murphy, Daniel McCabe, Marcus Crabtree, Owen Cooper and Adam Corwin among them, along with her own security men—had seen to it that those undesirable elements were forced out of town. Even Sheriff Caffey and Deputy Winston had lent their official authority to the endeavor.

  “That’s the first decent thing Sheriff Caffey’s done in a long while.” Dylan Coyle raised his glass. “Here’s to miracles.”

  Hmm. Rosamond watched as he offered that toast. Dylan still hadn’t left town, but she had a feeling he would do so soon. Whatever bedeviled Dylan Coyle was not in Morrow Creek. He didn’t seem like a man who’d leave business unfinished, either.

  “To miracles.” Everyone accepted his toast—Miles with extra vigor. He winked at Rosamond, clearly thinking of something other than the unlikely odds of crooked lawmen reforming.

  Rosamond was, too. It was a miracle, she thought, that she and Miles had found each other again—across so many miles and through so many difficulties. Now that it was all said and done, she truly believed they’d always been meant to be together.

  “All I can say is, it’s a good thing that posse came back when it did.” Seth cast a jovial glance at Judah. “Otherwise, we might not have gotten the signal about Callaway in time.”

  Rosamond stopped. “Signal?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Judah gave her a mischievous look. “You didn’t think you were the only one who could make up secret signals, did you?”

  “Actually…” Rosamond frowned. “I did.”

  “Well, you’re not.” Appearing mighty pleased with himself, Seth snatched up another biscuit. “Judah and I had a few, too. We shared them around with all the menfolk, just in case.”

  Remarkably, Dylan Coyle nodded in casual confirmation.

  Miles did not. He seemed as mystified as Rosamond about this issue. But that was small comfort for Rosamond. She didn’t like thinking her security men had gotten the better of her.

  Perturbed, she deliberately changed the subject. “So…has anyone seen Lucinda?” Rosamond asked. “I know she was dealing with the arrival of Mr. Blackhouse earlier, but since then—”

  “Oh no you don’t.” Bonita shook her head, wearing a knowing look. “You’re not sneaking out of this one that easily. We’ll talk about Lucinda and Mr. Blackhouse later.” She plunked her chin in her hands, appearing enraptured. “Right now, let’s hear more about these made-up signals of yours, boys.”

  Seth caught Rosamond’s reproachful look. “Nah. Let’s hear about your plan to waylay Callaway with that made-up questioning session, Miss Yates,” he suggested breezily, deflecting the attention from himself. “You know darn well there hasn’t ever been a full tribunal to pick members for the mutual society.”

  Bonita’s cheeks colored a dull red. “About those signals…?”

  “I’d like to know about the made-up tribunal,” Miles put in from beside Rosamond. “Especially the turning-around part.”

  Several of the women became abruptly interested in clearing the table. Katie and Libby jumped up with plates in hand.

  But Judah had no compunction about sharing his secrets.

  “One of the signals was a whistle. Like this.” He demonstrated. Ear-piercingly. Everyone winced…except him. “Turns out Daniel McCabe, the blacksmith, saw Callaway inching his way through town earlier. He figured he might be coming over here.”

  “‘Inching’?” Miles protested grumpily. “I was moving at a steady, manful pace. I have broken ribs and a wrecked knee.”

  “I’m sure you were magnificent.” Comfortingly, Rosamond patted his uninjured knee. She nodded at Judah. “Then what?”

  “Then everyone else relayed the signal, I guess.” Judah shrugged. “All I know is, it passed from man to man, lickety-split. First McCabe, then Clayton Davis, then Cade. I heard even that medicine-show man who comes through town sometimes—”

  “Will Gavigan,” Seth supplied knowingly. “The one who sells Tillson & Healy’s Patented Miracle Elixir from his wagon.”

  “Yeah. Even he helped,” Judah finished in a satisfied tone. “That’s how we knew we had to try to delay you, ma’am, from leaving. We didn’t want you to miss Callaway’s apology.”

  “His proposal, you mean?”

  “Nah.” Judah grinned. “We wanted to hear him grovel.”

  “Well, you didn’t hear that,” Miles said gruffly.

  “No, we didn’t.” Maureen O’Malley smiled. “All we heard was one big, whopping holler from one very happy man.”

  Remembering that, Rosamond smiled lovingly at him.

  “I was hollering, too,” she said as she squeezed his hand, knowing she was blushing. “Only on the inside, that’s all.”

  Miles shook his head, still seeming disgruntled by her friends’ machinations. “It all ended well, but I can’t believe you were all so devious. You manipulated us. And the men!” Shaking his head in pretend dismay, he sighed. “To think that they were the ones who gave away my grand plan with all that cooperative signal relaying. I can hardly fathom it.”

  “I can.” Pertly, Rosamond buttered another biscuit. “Here in Morrow Creek, the men have a powerful desire to see love conquer all. I can’t explain it. But I definitely believe it.”

  “Hmm.” Beside her, Miles seemed intrigued. His gaze dropped to her lips, promising more than temporary agreement. “I guess that means I’m going to fit in here even better than I thought.”

  “I guess you are.” She felt drawn to his mouth, too…

  “Not me! I don’t have a single ounce of interest in seeing love conquer all!” Hands in the air, Seth stood up. “I think I’d maybe better take up faro dealing in Landslide or someplace.”

  “Yeah.” Dylan Coyle rose, too. “I’ve got to be going.” He caught Rosamond’s skeptical look and added, “Truly, this time.”

  Little Tobe Larkin stood up, also. “Me, too, men!” He put his hands on his waist in a tough pose. “Who needs love? Pah!”

  It was peculiar to see a thirteen-year-old try to look jaded, but Tobe did his utmost to pull it off. While all the women laughed, Judah only sat there wearing a faraway look.

  “Judah?” Rosamond prompted. “Don’t you want to assert your own distaste for love and romance and all that mushheartedness?”

  Her erstwhile security man met her gaze. “Nah.” He glanced out the darkened window, still seeming preoccupied. “Not after what I saw between Mrs. Larkin and that Blackhouse man today. After that, I might be on the side of love and romance.”

  His exaggerated way of saying it made the whole thing sound slightly absurd. But everyone gawked at Judah, all the same.

  “You are?” Tobe burst out. “You’re a traitor, man!”

  Judah winked, then stood. “Just kiddin’. Haven’t you ever heard of the Morrow Creek Men’s Club? I’m the newest member and the proudest. This here marriage bureau isn’t the only club in town.” Pointedly, Judah went to join the other men. “I’m siding with the bachelors this time. Sorry, but I know when I’m beat.”

  His significant gaze took in Rosamond, Miles, their joined hands…and all the love that radiated between them.

  They’d already conquered all with their love, Rosamond knew. Now all that remained was…

  “Me, too.” Rosamond yawned, pretending—for once—to lose an argument. “I surrender.” She stood, then glanced at Miles.
>
  “Do you want to surrender with me?” she asked.

  He was upright in a heartbeat. A wobbly, determined, soon-to-be-healed heartbeat. “Yes, ma’am. Anyplace. Anytime.”

  “In my parlor. Right now.” Rosamond cast her assembled friends a playful look. “I think I still have some membership requirements of my own that ought to be satisfied.”

  The women kept on clearing the table, all pretending to take her business interests at face value. The men scattered, too, overtly intent on not falling in love anytime soon.

  And Rosamond? Well, now that she was truly safe and secure—in her own heart, which was the only place that mattered—Rosamond took Miles’s hand and led him away with her, ready to start their future full of love, trust, adventure, several pounds of Mr. Hofer’s mercantile crackers…

  …and a whole lot of all-over kisses, too.

  *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE RAKE TO RESCUE HER by Julia Justiss.

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  Chapter One

  It was her.

  Shock rocked him like the blast of air from a passing cannonball. Struck numb in its wake, Alastair Ransleigh, late of His Majesty’s First Dragoons, stared at the tall, dark-haired woman approaching from the other side of Bath’s expansive Sidney Gardens.

  Even as his disbelieving mind told him it couldn’t be her, he knew on some level deeper than reason that it was Diana. No other woman had that graceful, lilting step, as if dancing as she walked.