The Lawman's Surrender: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 2

by Debra Mullins

  The world was too beautiful a place to be marred by such ugliness, she thought as the taller man helped her clamber up with a jerk to her bound arm. She would never have the chance to grow old, never have the opportunity to watch her children grow. She’d never again watch the seasons change or enjoy the scent of fresh-baked bread.

  “Sure you don’t want to beg a little, missy?” Caldwell taunted, interrupting her bittersweet thoughts. “My brother didn’t get that chance.”

  “How do you know?” She stared down at him, the breeze stirring her long hair, her spine schoolmarm straight. “I bet your brother’s murderer laughed at his pleas for mercy before killing him, just like you intend to do to me.”

  Caldwell’s face flushed red. “That was murder, Miss Calhoun. This here is justice. There’s a big difference.”

  “It’s still the taking of a life, Mr. Caldwell, no matter how you look at it.”

  Caldwell took out a cigar and lit it. “You got any last words that aren’t preachy?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Do you have any cigars that don’t stink?”

  “You’re pretty uppity for a gal who’s gonna die.”

  She shrugged. “I have no regrets.”

  “Tell it to your maker. Do it!” he snapped, clamping his teeth down on the stogie.

  She braced herself, but she refused to give in to the urge to shut her eyes. She would not leave this world like a coward.

  The wagon creaked as the black-haired one got up into the driver’s seat.

  She did have regrets—and one especially that stood out from all the rest.

  She had never told Jedidiah that she loved him.

  How ironic that she should admit the truth to herself now, when she would never have the chance to enjoy it. Never again would she look upon his face, see that crooked smile or the way his brows peaked when he was amused. Never again could she indulge in the banter they both enjoyed, that verbal courtship that went so far beyond mere words. She would never have the chance feel what it was like to make love with him.

  She wished she could turn back time, go back to that day by the river and show Jedidiah Brown just how much she loved him.

  “Heyah!” the tall man called, snapping the reins. The mule started forward. The rope tightened around her neck, and she gasped for breath.

  She had expected death to be quick, but the mule didn’t cooperate. Instead of taking off at a gallop, the stubborn beast ambled forward at a slow walk, despite the driver’s fluent cursing. Susannah walked backward in the bed of the wagon, managing to steal another few moments of life, despite Caldwell’s plans.

  The back of the wagon bumped her calves.

  She thought of her pregnant sister, and the niece or nephew she would never see. Of her mother. She remembered the way Jedidiah made her feel as if she were more than she had ever thought she was, more than she ever thought she could be.

  She managed to get her feet up on the back end of the wagon. The rope tightened around her neck, and breathing grew difficult. In another second she would have nothing to stand on, and Caldwell’s associate would hold the rope taut until she died.

  If she could only do it all again, she thought desperately as dark spots floated before her eyes, she would cherish the gift of love instead of running from it.

  Then her feet slipped off the edge and into nothingness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jedidiah’s heart raced, and the chill of true fear kept his jaw tight and his eyes cold. He galloped hell for leather toward the copse of trees in the distance, Nate and a couple of his deputies following along behind.

  It had been the silver-haired barkeep who had seen what had happened to Susannah during the fight. The old man had been looking out his window and witnessed her abduction by two rough-looking men. He also remembered seeing those same men the night before in his saloon, in the company of a rich fellow who answered Caldwell’s description. It hadn’t taken much deduction to realize that Caldwell intended to finish what he had started back in Silver Flats.

  The mere thought made Jedidiah want to forget his upbringing and tear the town apart in his search for Caldwell. Damn it, he should never have left her alone. However important it was to find Mrs. Hawkins, Susannah’s safety was paramount.

  He didn’t even try to pretend it was just duty anymore. Somehow she had gotten under his skin. He cared, much more than he ought to.

  And the thought of losing Susannah forever scared him more than anything he’d ever known.

  He galloped over the rise and pulled his mount up sharply. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

  Susannah, silver-blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight, with a rope around her neck, stepped into nothingness as the wagon that had been her foothold suddenly pulled away.

  “No!” he roared. He kicked his horse into a gallop, pulling his gun from its holster.

  His gunshot echoed off the mountains around them.

  Surprise twisted the features of the man holding the rope as a burst of crimson bloomed on his chest. The rope slipped from his fingers, and Susannah landed on the ground with a thud and lay still.

  Caldwell turned at the disruption, his cigar dropping from his mouth as he saw Jedidiah thundering toward him. He ran to his horse and mounted faster than Jedidiah would have given him credit for, then spurred the horse to flight.

  Nate and one of his deputies headed after the fleeing Caldwell. The other deputy raced to intercept the tall, skinny man who was running for the trees. Jedidiah pulled his horse to a skidding stop and dismounted to kneel beside Susannah’s limp body.

  She had only been hanging for a second, but if her neck had broken…

  Gently, he slipped the fingers of both hands between the rope and her throat. Her pulse fluttered against his knuckles. He sagged with relief, then took a deep breath and pulled, loosening the noose. An angry red welt encircled her throat where the rope had rubbed the delicate skin raw.

  “Susannah,” he whispered, following the mark with trembling fingers, pressing cautiously to test for anything broken or out of alignment. “Susannah, can you hear me?”

  Slowly she opened her eyes. She took a deep breath, then winced. “I feel like I fell off a horse,” she whispered.

  The utter joy and relief that flooded through him brought the sting of tears. Manfully, he blinked them back. “I thought you were dead,” he said, his voice rough with the emotion he couldn’t hide. “I thought we were too late.”

  She brought a hand to her throat, her fingers shaking as she traced the rope still encircling her neck. “Try not to cut it so close next time,” she said, her voice raspy.

  “I’m not leaving you alone again,” he vowed. “Didn’t I tell you what would happen?”

  She gave a laugh, then winced.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Jedidiah advised. “Can you sit up?”

  He placed his hand behind her head and helped her into a sitting position. Then he gently lifted the noose from around her neck and tossed the rope aside.

  “Where’s Caldwell?” Susannah asked, gingerly turning her head to look around at the deserted countryside.

  “He skeddadled out of here like the skunk he is,” Jedidiah replied. “Nate went after him.”

  “He’s not right in the head, Jedidiah,” she said, feeling her bruised throat.

  “I know it.” Getting to his feet, he bent forward and scooped her into his arms.

  She let out a surprised squeal and flung her arms around his neck. “Where are you taking me?”

  He grinned, rather liking the way she clung to him. “Back to Nate’s house. We’re going to stay there tonight, and you’re going to see a doctor.”

  “I blacked out from lack of air, but it was only for a minute. I am capable of walking,” she pointed out.

  He tightened his arms around her. “Maybe I just need to hold you, Suzie,” he said, using her family nickname.

  She gave him one startled glance, but what she saw in his eyes apparently reassured he
r. Her mouth curved. “All right, then.”

  Nothing more needed to be said as Jedidiah carried her towards his horse.

  Death had a way of changing one’s outlook on life.

  Susannah stood at the window in the guest room of the Stillman house. Garbed only in a white cotton nightgown—which only fell only to mid-calf because it was Darcy’s—she stared out at the night and thought about her brush with death that day.

  Now she knew, truly and intimately, what awaited her should the trial in Denver go badly. If they didn’t find Mrs. Hawkins, then there was every possibility that she could be found guilty of murder, no matter how circumstantial the evidence. Then she would once more feel the tightening of a noose around her neck.

  In that split second after the wagon had pulled away and before she lost consciousness, she had realized how short life could be. It seemed so silly to worry about the tenets of fashion or the rules of society, when what was important was being with the people you loved while you were still alive to do so.

  She had let the fear of a broken heart hold her back from taking that last step into Jedidiah’s arms. Honestly, what would happen if she gave herself to him as she longed to do, and then he left her? She could now truthfully say that though she would be unhappy, she would certainly survive. And down the line, when the pain faded, she would have the beautiful memories to treasure for the rest of her life.

  Now that she was no longer afraid, she found that she also had the courage to look at the other side of it. What if she gave herself to Jedidiah and he came to love her as much as she loved him? What if she missed out on years of happiness with him by her side because she hadn’t dared to take that risk?

  Life was short, and her life could be even shorter if she were found guilty of murder. So why not take advantage of what little time they had together to discover each other as man and woman? What was stopping her from going to him right now and asking him to make love to her?

  Not a thing.

  She turned away from the window and headed toward the door. This time if she died, she truly would have no regrets.

  Jedidiah sprawled in the chair in the corner of his room and nursed his second glass of whiskey. Things had definitely not turned out as he had planned.

  Caldwell had gotten away. Nate was working on getting a warrant for the man's arrest on the counts of attempted murder and obstructing justice, but Jedidiah still felt restless. For the first time in his life, he wanted to bypass the law and deal with Caldwell himself.

  He wasn’t proud of how he felt, but he didn’t deny it either. He was done lying to himself. Susannah was his woman, and Caldwell had tried to harm her. Therefore, Jedidiah wanted to rip Caldwell apart with his bare hands. A perfectly logical reaction, under the circumstances.

  He tossed back a swallow of whiskey. The image of Susannah dangling from that rope—even for those few seconds—would live in his nightmares for the rest of his life.

  He had wanted to stay with her. After the doctor had pronounced her shaken but not badly hurt, Jedidiah had longed to take her in his arms and hold her tight. But he didn’t dare. It was his fault Caldwell had gotten hold of her, and he wouldn’t blame her if she was just as angry with him as he was with himself. And he was too scared to find out.

  Caring definitely confused things, he thought sourly, taking another swallow of whiskey.

  He heard a sound at the door and turned to look, just as Susannah slipped into the room.

  She wore a white nightdress that showed off a distracting amount of slender ankles and calves. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves, and when she closed the door and turned to face him, he realized that he could see the shadow of her nipples through the thin cotton.

  He closed his eyes. Two glasses of whiskey in him, and now this temptation?

  “Jedidiah?” Her soft voice stroked over him like silk, stirring his blood and his body. Opening his eyes again, he took in the sight of her, silently promising that all he would do was look.

  Later, he would take a long, cold bath.

  “What can I do for you, Susannah?”

  She tilted her head to look at him, her gray-blue eyes so serious, and her hair falling forward like silken moonbeams. “I came to thank you for saving my life.”

  “No thanks necessary.”

  “Oh, I think it’s very necessary.” She came toward him, her nightgown billowing and settling over every tempting curve. “If not for you, I’d be dead.”

  “If I hadn’t left you alone, it would never have happened.”

  Her eyes widened, and he pressed his lips tightly together, realizing how harsh his words had sounded.

  “Surely you don’t blame yourself?” She came closer, reaching out one slender hand to touch his shoulder. “It couldn’t be helped, Jedidiah. We needed to find Mrs. Hawkins, and you were doing what you were supposed to do.”

  “Mrs. Hawkins got away, so it didn’t do a damned bit of good to leave you like that.”

  “Lordy, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before,” she teased, obviously trying to cajole him out of his foul mood. “Isn’t that against the rules of a gentleman?”

  He wasn’t in the mood to be cajoled. “I’m just a man, Susannah. One who almost cost you your life today.”

  “Then I suppose you would be in my debt, wouldn’t you?”

  “What?” He frowned at her, puzzled by her casual tone.

  “Since you almost got me killed, you’re in my debt,” she clarified.

  He shifted restlessly. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

  “Then how would you put it?”

  “I almost got you killed, and I’m sorry for it.” He didn’t realize he was shouting until she winced and glanced at the door.

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said, turning back to him. “But it’s done now. And I’m still alive, thanks to you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tossing back the last of his whiskey, he brushed past her and fetched the bottle from the top of the bureau with shaking fingers. Another moment with her standing so close, and he would go insane.

  “I know you’re upset, Jedidiah, but you don’t have to drink away the pain.” She came up behind him and stroked her hands over his shoulders. He froze, clenching the whiskey bottle in his hand. Didn’t she realize what she was doing to him?

  Of course she did. She was Susannah Calhoun, irresistible flirt and accomplished seductress. He turned his head to look at her, arching his brows as he drawled, “Do you have another suggestion?”

  “You could make love to me.”

  He stared. He hadn’t expected her to accept his challenge, but the steady blue eyes that met his showed no nervousness, no hesitancy as a virgin might display. Obviously Susannah Calhoun had been down this road before.

  The thought pricked him, but he wanted her anyway. He put down the whiskey bottle. “Is that an offer, princess?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is.” She lifted her chin, straightened her spine. “If you don’t want me, Jedidiah, just say so. I can handle it.”

  “Can you?” He turned to face her, cupping her cheek and spearing his fingers into her hair. “Be very sure, Susannah, because I’m in no mood to stop. I want you very badly.”

  She swallowed hard, but her eyes never left his. “I want you, too.”

  “All right then.” Smooth as water, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

  He was so demanding, Susannah thought with a thrill, parting her lips for his seeking tongue. Demanding, but gentle. She followed the urging of his hand on her back and stepped into his embrace, pressing her body to his. It was heaven the way their bodies met and matched, fitting together as if made for one another. Eager for more of him, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the love and hunger she’d bottled up for so long.

  He groaned, slanting his mouth across hers, showing no signs of the gentleman she had always known him to be—and she loved it. His hands caressed her back and held h
er trapped against him. She felt his fingers tangling in her hair, his thigh pressing between hers, his heart pounding hard and furious in his chest.

  He broke the kiss finally, gasping for air like a drowning man, then held her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I asked you once before, Susannah. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes.” Boldly, she took his hand and kissed the palm, then laid it on her breast. “I want this. I want you.”

  “No turning back.”

  “No turning back,” she echoed.

  When they reached the bed, he sat down on it, pulling her to stand between his legs.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said with quiet reverence. “Not just your eyes and your hair, but your smile and your wit and your laughter. And I feel like the luckiest man alive tonight.”

  She smiled slowly, pleasure blooming like a rose inside her. “I’m the luckiest woman.”

  He took her hand and guided it to his shirt. “Here. Unbutton it.”

  As she did so with fingers that trembled, he reached out and cupped one of her breasts in his palm. She gave a soft gasp as he tested the weight of it, squeezing it gently and rubbing his thumb across her hardening nipple. No man had ever touched her like this before, and even if one had, she doubted it would ever have felt this good.

  “You like that.” Laughing softly, he caressed the other one as well. “I want to see you. To taste you.”

  Her knees almost buckled. Heat smoldered in his sherry-colored eyes as he continued to fondle her breasts. She managed to get four buttons undone on his shirt, but the touch of his hands was making her light-headed.

  “Touch me,” she begged, rubbing her palms against the hair-roughened expanse of his chest. “I want to feel everything.”

  “Come here.” He edged her closer. Then he slipped his hands beneath the hem of the nightgown and glided them up the backs of her thighs to cup her rear end.