by Megan Besing
“Squeeze slowly. This isn’t a showdown. There’s going to be a kick.”
The gun discharged, and the report echoed around them. Delia staggered back a step and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“Oh my,” she said. “That’s powerful.”
“You want to try again?”
“Absolutely!”
They ran through nearly an entire carton of bullets, but Delia eventually managed to hit all six bottles. As the sun disappeared over the horizon in a fiery ball, he walked her back to the hotel.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon. You?”
“I’d best visit Becky.” Her gaze skittered away. “She’s probably desperate for company.”
Sean grimaced. “What a sensible plan.”
She was intelligent. She was witty. She was beautiful. And she was also lying through her teeth.
Delia packed her satchel and tiptoed down the corridor. The colonel had been far too committed to ending her fledgling career in reporting. While she appreciated his fears for her safety, she wouldn’t be dissuaded.
Violet fingers of dawn crept over the horizon, and a cottony morning mist drifted from the mountains and hovered above the tall grasses. A velvety spring breeze gently stirred the leaves. Birds called and the stream gurgled in the distance. Tobacco Bend’s one saving grace was the stagecoach depot on the far end of town. Delia checked the watch pinned to her bodice and stifled a yawn. The stagecoach left at a shockingly early hour.
Located outside the livery, the depot was little more than a raised platform featuring a single bench heaped with luggage set before the clapboard building. As she approached, something on the bench moved.
Delia shrieked. The shapeless mound was a man.
The colonel swung his legs around. “Going someplace?”
Chapter 5
You frightened the wits out of me.” Delia dropped her bag and planted her hands on her hips. “I was catching the stagecoach. As is my right.”
“Without saying good-bye?” Sean rested one hand against his chest. “I’m hurt.”
They’d had such a lovely afternoon, and she hated to spar with him. She’d wanted to leave on a good note. “You can’t stop me.”
“Oh. But I can.”
Something in his expression gave her pause.
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “What have you done?”
“I’m afraid all the tickets have been sold. There’s no room for you on the stagecoach.”
She’d been assured the tickets never sold out. “How can that be?”
“Someone bought them all.” He retrieved a sheaf of papers from his pocket. “Me.”
“Of all the low-down, no good, dirty, double-dealing, rotten things to do!”
“I’m sensing you’re angry.”
Delia kicked her bag. Venting her frustration felt good, and she kicked it again. Glass shattered. “Now I’ve broken my looking glass!”
“You can’t blame me for that.”
Why hadn’t she thought to buy the ticket earlier? She clenched her fists and made a sound of frustration. Staying angry with the man would be far simpler if he didn’t look quite so handsome this morning. In lieu of his uniform, he’d donned a charcoal gray suit with a gold watch chain stretched across the matching vest. His cutaway coat highlighted his powerful frame, and the dark color suited his rugged complexion.
“Why aren’t you wearing your uniform today?” Delia asked, not quite ready to forgive him.
“Because I’m not here in an official capacity. I’m a civilian.”
“What about yesterday?”
An emotion she couldn’t quite read flitted across his face. “For the same reason you wore your best dress. For the wedding.”
Warmth spread through her chest. Sean might have taken the opportunity to publicly declare his disapproval of the marriage by appearing in his civilian clothing. Yet he’d made the effort to respect his brother’s bride over his personal feelings. A rare concession in her experience.
“There’s no use standing here,” Sean said. “You had to know that I couldn’t let you interview an outlaw on your own. We’re family now.”
She’d been outwitting her father for too long, and she’d grown soft. Sean was a worthier adversary. Not that they were adversaries, exactly. Merely at cross purposes.
“I wasn’t going to interview the outlaw.” She retrieved her bag and gripped the handle with both hands. “I was traveling to Virginia City in order to check on my sister.”
“You weren’t hiding from me?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Fleeing with the dawn’s early light in the hopes that I’d forget about your dangerous plans? Or perhaps you thought I’d forget all about you. Out of sight is out of mind, and all that.”
She ducked her head. “Actually, yes. That’s exactly what I planned on doing.”
Sean barked out a laugh. “You’re the most beautifully unique person I’ve ever met.”
Delia tilted her head.
“That was a compliment,” he added quickly.
“I believe you.”
“Good. I was planning on sending a note to my brother.” He tugged the bag from her fingers. “We’ll send a telegram to your sister. She’ll want an update on the proceedings.”
Probably Delia should insist on carrying her luggage herself, but the handle was digging into her palm. She flexed her fingers, urging blood through the sore appendage.
Sean placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her across the dirt street. “Once I heard you stirring in the room above me, I knew I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
His touch was gentle but firm, and heat burned through the cotton of her beige calico dress.
“You needn’t guard me.” She climbed the two stairs leading to the boardwalk. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know.”
She turned and found herself face-to-face with the colonel. The extra height from the boardwalk had her staring directly into his eyes, and his mouth was only a whisper away from hers. She dropped her gaze.
A shocking desire to press her lips against his took hold. She’d never been tempted to kiss a man before, and a giddy sense of excitement infused her with courage. What was the harm in a little experimentation? She grasped his shoulders and settled her lips over his. Liquid heat coursed through her veins.
He remained stock-still, shocked, no doubt, at her forward behavior. From what seemed like a great distance away, she heard a soft thump as her carpetbag hit the ground. His hands slid around her waist and he angled his head, bringing them even closer. All rational thought fled, leaving her confused and disorientated and hungry for something she didn’t quite understand.
The touch of his lips was soft and gentle and unlike anything she’d ever imagined. Pressing closer, she reveled in the myriad of sensations heightened by his touch. She gripped his shoulders, her seeking fingers already familiar with the play of muscles. He splayed his hands across her back and caressed her with rough tenderness. Trembling from head to foot, she murmured something incoherent.
The stagecoach rumbled by, kicking up dirt clods. The horses whinnied and the crack of a whip shattered the still air. Sean jerked back and she caught a glimpse of the justice of the peace, staring at them in mute shock through the open window of the stagecoach. The next instant the conveyance passed, and they were alone again.
Numb with shock, and something else she couldn’t quite define, Delia tentatively caressed the line of his jaw.
Sean’s eyes blazed and he set her away from him. “Please accept my humblest apologies. A gentleman does not kiss a woman on the streets.”
Dazed, she retracted her hand. “Actually, I kissed you.”
“Inside.” He glanced up and down the street. “You and I have some things we need to discuss.”
He marched them down the boardwalk.
“Are you angry with me?” she as
ked, tugging him to a halt. He was breathing as though he’d run a great distance, when they’d only just crossed the street. “I’ve never kissed a man before and I was curious. I understand why father was worried about Becky now.”
He kicked back his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. “You mustn’t go around kissing men every time you’re curious.”
“I don’t want to kiss other men. I only want to kiss you.”
“I adore your honesty, Delia, but now is not the time.”
“Why not?”
He took her elbow and steered her toward the hotel’s double doors. “I don’t know whether to shake you or hug you sometimes.” He glanced over his shoulder “I don’t think too many people saw us.”
She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. Only the driver, two outriders, the justice of the peace, and whoever else might have been in the stagecoach that morning.
They crossed the lobby and the bleary-eyed clerk glanced up from his newspaper. “The justice of the peace left something for the two of you.”
The clerk flopped a large envelope onto the counter and returned his attention to the newspaper.
Delia reached for the packet, and Sean intercepted her grasp. “This must be the marriage certificate.”
He tore open the flap and pulled the document from the sleeve. The stench of whiskey wrinkled her nose.
Delia grimaced. “How are we going to explain that smell to Becky and Paul?”
“A casualty of the scuffle yesterday. Elroy must have written on the document before the paper dried completely.”
His face paled.
“What is it?” Delia demanded. She peered around his shoulder for a better look. “Did Elroy misspell the names?”
“No.” The paper shook violently in Sean’s hand. “Elroy spelled the names correctly.” His voice was hoarse and he’d gone shockingly peaked.
“What could be that bad?” she demanded. “Let me see.”
She snatched the paper and rapidly scanned the words. Her stomach dropped and her knees went weak. “Surely there’s been some mistake.” She flipped over the document and checked the back then shook the envelope and retrieved a second piece of paper. “What has he done?”
“Apparently, the justice of the peace made a mistake.”
“But we were very clear about who was marrying whom.”
Sean sniffed the second piece of paper and grimaced. “This is the document you and I filled out. The ink was smudged when the whiskey spilled. He must have mixed up the names when he was transcribing the information.”
“This is all a simple mistake. Easily sorted.” She pressed two fingers against her temple. There was no need for panic. Mistakes happened all the time. “We’ll simply tear up the paperwork. Problem solved.”
“I don’t think we’ll manage that easily.”
She reached behind her, searching for a chair or a bench or someplace to sit. Her legs weren’t quite functioning. “What do we do?”
“We’d best fetch Elroy and straighten out this mess.”
The memory of Elroy’s face in the window sent her stomach churning. She pressed her hand over her face then peered through her fingers. In large block letters, the justice of the peace had neatly filled in their names and occupations under the headings of bride and groom.
She stared unseeing into the distance. “Can’t we simply tear up the certificate?”
“We’d be tearing up a copy. The justice of the peace has the original. As of now we’re married,” Sean said grimly. “Legally and bound by law.”
“What do you mean you don’t know where he’s gone?” Sean roared. “Surely you keep some sort of track of the man?”
“He’s gone.” The sheriff’s mouth screwed up, and he lifted one palm. “Just like I said. The stagecoach left not fifteen minutes ago. You must have seen it.”
“Yes,” Sean mumbled. “I’m aware the stagecoach has left.”
As a soldier, he adhered to a strict code of conduct. A gentleman did not disrespect a lady with public displays of affection. Yet that’s exactly what he’d done. The instant she’d touched his lips with hers, he’d lost all sense of time and place. Any hint of rational thought had fled, leaving his senses filled with nothing but the ripple of her cotton dress beneath his fingertips and the elusive scent of lavender drifting from her hair.
He tugged on the lapels of his coat. He’d scoffed at his brother for his hasty marriage. He’d harbored a lingering sense of resentment toward his father—only to find himself rendered senseless by a woman. He’d underestimated the distracting power of feminine allures.
For her part, Delia appeared singularly unaffected by the earth-shattering event. She’d pivoted her attention to the problem at hand with brisk, impersonal efficiency. Her lack of concern sparked his annoyance. Wasn’t she the least bit moved by their encounter?
She kept her attention focused on a map of the territory pinned to the wall. “Surely Elroy follows a certain routine? People are primarily creatures of habit. There must be some pattern to the man’s travels?”
“He comes and goes,” the sheriff said.
“We don’t have time to chase him across the country,” Sean interjected. “We’ll wait for him at the courthouse.”
He wasn’t thinking straight. He needed to breathe. He needed to treat this like a military campaign. He had an objective. Find Elroy and correct the paperwork. If that tact was unsuccessful, they’d do the next best thing.
He snapped his fingers. “If we can’t stop the paperwork, we’ll get an annulment.”
“You gotta live in the territory for at least a year before you can get an annulment,” the sheriff said, propping his boots on his desk.
“Well that’s an idiotic rule.”
“Gets worse.” The sheriff crossed his ankles. “You can’t get a marriage annulled if you’ve been married for over a year.”
Sean staggered a few feet and dropped onto a chair.
The sheriff flicked his chin with the backs of his fingertips. “The county seat is in Butte. The stagecoach takes the road, but if you’re on horseback, you can take a shortcut. There’s a railroad bridge over the creek, but the track was never finished. The locals made the bridge fit for horseback. It’s a hard day’s ride, but you’ll beat him there.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.” Sean considered the supplies he’d brought and calculated what else he needed. “No time to waste.”
Which left him with the problem of Delia. He didn’t trust her out of his sight. Especially after the debacle this morning. When she wasn’t chasing after outlaws, she was giving in to her curiosity about kissing. That wasn’t the sort of curiosity he was willing to leave unchecked.
“We should go, Delia,” he said.
“Not yet.” She turned toward the sheriff. “Why is there a child in the jail cell?”
“That’s no child.” The sheriff chortled. “That there is a runaway.”
In his panic over the mistaken marriage, Sean had completely overlooked the waif perched defiantly on a cot in the locked jail cell. The boy was painfully thin with hollow eyes. He wore ill-fitting, tattered trousers that barely reached below his knee. His shirt was an indistinguishable color, the fabric nearly transparent from numerous washings. The boy’s mop of unkempt hair was a sandy shade of blond, and his enormous blue eyes dominated his mud-streaked face.
“He’s a child.” Delia approached the cell. “He shouldn’t be locked up like a criminal.”
“Well if he didn’t want to be in jail, he ought not to have run away,” the sheriff said. “Keeping him locked up is the only way to ensure he doesn’t run away again before Mr. Pratt comes to fetch him.”
“Please focus, Miss Lawrence,” Sean directed. “We have our own problems.”
Even as he said the words his attention was drawn to the boy. There was no tolerance in his heart for cruelty against children and animals. The boy was undernourished and obviously neglected.
“You might as w
ell call me Delia,” she said. “We’re married, after all.” She turned her back on him and grasped the bars. “What’s your name, child?”
“Robert. But I ain’t no runaway, ma’am,” the boy said. “Mr. Pratt ain’t my pa. He just took me from the orphan train because he’s lazy and he wants me to do all the work.”
“That’s awful.” She turned toward the sheriff. “Can’t you do something?”
“Yeah. I can send him back to Mr. Pratt. You oughta be careful, son. There’s worse folks out there. Take that Littlebury Helm. I heard he and his gang were spotted up near the great falls of the Missouri River.”
The boy crossed his arms over his chest and scooted back on the cot. “I ain’t going back to Mr. Pratt.”
Sean digested the new information. With Littlebury north of Tobacco Bend, travel was relatively safe. There were no Indians in the area, and the only outlaws in the vicinity were in the opposite direction.
“Can’t we do something?” Delia implored. “He’s only a child.”
Sean rubbed the back of his neck. The boy deserved better treatment. “I’ll contact the commanding officer of the local fort. They take on apprentices.” A discouraging thought took hold. “Do you ride?” he asked Delia.
“Tolerably.”
Relief flooded through him. “Then you’re going with me.”
There was only one way to ensure her safety: never let her out of his sight.
“I’ll only slow you down,” she said. “It’s better if I stay.”
“I have the utmost confidence in your abilities. I couldn’t leave you here all by yourself. Think how lonesome you’ll be.”
“I’m quite independent.”
“You’d abandon me on our honeymoon? I’m starting to think you’re having second thoughts about this marriage.”
Delia released a long-suffering sigh.
The boy remained silent beneath their volley of words, though his eyes were wide and a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.
The sheriff jangled the enormous ring of keys attached to his belt. “You two seem nice enough. Why don’t you just stay married? It’s a lot less paperwork.”
