by Megan Besing
Perhaps it was time for a new plan.
Robert rubbed his stomach. “I’m kinda hungry.”
“Me, too,” Delia said.
Paul and Becky had taken a seat on the bench. They held hands, staring into each other’s eyes as they laughed and whispered.
The clerk shot them a disgruntled glare and snapped his newspaper back into place.
Becky didn’t seem to mind Paul’s unsightly appearance, and Sean hadn’t seen his brother that happy in a long while. Possibly ever. Montana winters were brutal, and they were also lonely. Becky had gotten herself this far, there was no reason to assume she’d falter beneath the harsh conditions of ranch life. People were often much more resilient than they appeared. He’d had plenty of soldiers in his ranks that didn’t look as though they’d last a week, and those men had become fine soldiers.
“We should give them some time alone together,” Sean said. “A few extra minutes won’t hurt.”
A becoming wash of color swept over Delia’s face. “Agreed.”
They retired to a table as far away from the enamored couple as the space allowed. Hank carefully wrote down their order of three breakfasts, and Sean contained his annoyance lest his meal suffer.
Delia glanced over her shoulder. “I think Becky is going to do just fine on the ranch.”
“Agreed,” Sean said.
For the first time in a very long time he relished the peace. All his life he’d been driven to prove something. The compulsions of his youth had compelled him, pushing him to the brink of his physical and mental endurance. Without that driving force behind him, he sometimes feared he’d tumble backward into nothing.
Today was different. Today, a sense of peace lifted his spirits. For once in his life he’d enjoy the here and now, and worry about the future later.
“They seem real nice,” Robert said. “I wish the two of them had picked me instead of old Mr. Pratt.”
Sean blinked rapidly. He’d put himself in competition with his stepmother, and he’d lost the gamble. He’d spent the rest of his life proving he was a better man. With his military service, he’d demonstrated to the world that he was valuable and important. But worthy of what? Of his father’s attention? Of his love? He and Paul only had each other, and yet Sean had spent most of his adult life either chastising or ignoring his younger brother. He wasn’t any better than his father, and in some ways, he was far worse.
They each wanted to feel as though they mattered. Delia wanted her voice to matter to the world, and Robert wanted his life to matter to someone who loved him. They were three very different people from strikingly different backgrounds, yet their basic desires were the same. Which was more important? The world, or a single human heart?
“You’re looking extremely serious.” Delia tilted her head. “What are you thinking?” Her inherit honesty spurred him onward. “Would you rather have your life matter to a thousand people or to one person?”
“That’s easy. A thousand people. What about you?”
Robert planted his chin in his hands. “I think it depends on the person. Like if my ma had mattered more to my pa, then maybe he wouldna run off. My uncle took me in for a while, but his wife had a baby and she didn’t have no more time for me. Think of how different my life woulda been if I had mattered to her?”
“You matter to me,” Delia said quietly. “Very much.”
“But you only just met me.”
“Then you must be very special.”
Robert swiped at his eyes. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Sean’s throat tightened.
Delia patted the boy’s leg. She didn’t try and comfort him with false platitudes. She listened, and she spoke from the heart.
Sean hung his head. He’d accomplished a great deal in his life. A lot more than most men his age. But had he accomplished what truly mattered? Had he become a better man? The answer remained in the distance, just out of his reach.
Delia flicked a crumb from the table. “What about you, Sean? One person or a thousand?”
A burst of insight shook him to the core. “One person.”
One very particular person.
First, though, he had amends to make. Things were going to be different between Sean and his brother. The past twenty-four hours had opened his eyes and his heart. If Paul wanted a bride, if he truly loved Becky, then Sean wasn’t giving up until the two of them were wed. He owed his brother that much.
There was a basket of apples sitting on a sideboard, and Robert pointed. “Can I take an apple to Fiddler?”
“Certainly,” Delia said. “I’ll join you. I need something out of my saddlebag.”
Hand in hand, the two of them left. Sean drummed his fingers on the table. He had a mind to try his hand at ranching. Paul needed the help, and there was plenty of land for both of them.
Delia wanted to remain in Montana, near her sister, which meant he’d be seeing her often. Yet she’d made her opinions about marriage quite clear. If he was going to convince her, he’d have to encourage her journalistic work. Even the legendary Nellie Bly hadn’t begun her career with outlaws. The reporter had started with a box factory. What was the equivalent of a box factory in Montana?
Sean glanced at Robert’s empty chair. Who would harm such an innocent child? He sat up straighter. No one had less of a voice than children. Delia was compassionate and caring. What better voice for the unheard? Even as he formulated the thought in his head, his heart sank.
How did he persuade Delia that learning to love him did not mean living and dying in obscurity?
A shot rang out, and glass shattered.
Chapter 7
Delia shoved Robert. “Get inside!”
The boy hesitated and she gave him another hard push. He dashed into the hotel, and the outlaw caught her around the upper arm.
He pressed the barrel of his gun against her temple. “Don’t shoot. I got a hostage.”
As he dragged her into the middle of the street, she clawed at the hand clamped around her waist.
This couldn’t be happening. Not again. How did one person have this much misfortune?
“Unhand me!” she demanded.
“Let her go, Littlebury,” a voice called. “We’ve got you surrounded.”
Delia stilled. This was Littlebury Helm? The scourge of the territory? She craned her neck for a better look at her captor. He was of average height and build, and his stringy blond hair was receding at the temples. His clothing was tattered, and he smelled atrocious. She’d built him into a larger-than-life figure in her head, but he was just a man. A scrawny, smelly man with a gun at her temple.
Sean appeared in the doorway of the saloon and she willed him to stay back. He glanced down the street, and she followed his gaze. A half-dozen soldiers on horseback blocked one end of the street. She whipped around and discovered another half-dozen men on the opposite side.
Sean cupped his hand to the side of his mouth. “Lieutenant Brackett, what are you doing here?”
One of the army riders urged his horse forward a few paces. “We intercepted a rumor that Littlebury Helm had been sending telegrams to Tobacco Bend. The commander authorized us to investigate.”
“Shut up!” Littlebury Helm shouted. “Quit your yapping and get me a horse.”
“We chased him here,” the lieutenant continued. “Nearly had him. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Sean held up his hands. “Let the girl go, and we’ll let you leave.”
“You’re lying!” the outlaw hollered. “You’ll never let me leave. I’m taking her with me.”
Delia stared at Sean. She’d only just met him, but she was well on her way to falling madly in love with the brave, stubborn man. He’d asked her once if she was running from herself, and she’d avoided providing him with the revealing answer. She’d always been different. She’d never had the easy way of flirting her sister had mastered.
Becky had Paul. Violet had the grocery delivery boy. Deli
a had always been alone. She’d sought attention and adoration from strangers with her writing. Except the love of a faceless public could never replace the affection of one person. She’d wanted to be important to thousands of people because she didn’t think she’d ever earn the love of one person. But love wasn’t about earning someone’s approval. Love was about opening her heart and letting someone else get to know her, even the flawed bits.
Sean took another step closer. “Darling, if we’re going to have a future together, I insist you stop getting yourself in these hostage situations.”
Delia’s heart leaped. He’d called her darling. “Do we have a future together?”
His dark eyes softened. “Only if you want.”
“Then I’ll try very hard never to be taken hostage again.”
Littlebury made a sound of frustration. “This ain’t about the both of you. This is about me. I demand a fresh horse and enough supplies for three days.”
“Done,” the lieutenant agreed.
Sean gestured. “My horse is right here. I was preparing for a trip. There’s enough food and water for at least three days.”
“Then get everyone outta here,” the outlaw ordered. “Clear the street.”
His tight grip made it difficult to breathe, and stars appeared at the edges of Delia’s vision. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest. The men from the army wheeled their horses around. Curtains flicked in the hotel window and she caught the glint of metal from one of the roofs.
His gun outstretched before him, the outlaw dragged her toward the horse. “You’re coming with me.”
“No!” she protested. “I’m a terrible traveling companion.”
She no longer wanted to interview outlaws and put herself in danger. She wanted to live. She wanted to love. She wanted to tell Sean all the things she kept locked in her heart.
“I ain’t getting out of this town alive if I leave alone. As soon as I let go of you, they’ll shoot me dead.”
Sean unraveled the reins of his horse from the hitching post. Delia’s gaze flicked between the two men. Sean was out of uniform, and Littlebury didn’t appear to see him as a threat.
“The other one, too!” Littlebury shouted.
Keeping his gun trained on her, Littlebury mounted then ordered Delia to do the same.
“Wait,” Sean said. “There’s something I have to do first.”
He caught her around the waist and spun her around. His lips moved hungrily over hers, kissing her with the same pent-up desire she’d felt since the first moment they’d met. It was a kiss of possession, and she reveled in the feel of his touch. There was no hesitancy, no pleading, no entreaty, he was a man making a claim, and she was more than willing to surrender.
He pitched his voice low. “When I give you the signal, duck.”
“What’s the signal?”
“You’ll know.”
“Ah, quit it you two,” Littlebury groaned. “I’m not playing around. I’ll shoot you both to get outta this one-horse town.”
Sean easily lifted her into the saddle. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not.”
The outlaw struggled to control both horses while keeping his gun trained on her. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll shoot you.”
She kept a tight grip on the reins. “I thought you’d be taller.”
Littlebury gaped. “What did you just say?”
“I’m Miss Adelia Lawrence.”
“The reporter?”
“Yes. And I thought you’d be taller.” She smirked. “And smarter.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“No,” she declared. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do a story about you.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind, too. I don’t want to be interviewed.”
“Good.”
Apparently, no one had noticed that she still clutched her reticule.
A sharp whistle pierced the air. Assuming that was the signal, she ducked. Gunfire sounded and her horse sidestepped and bucked. Thrown off balance, she lost her grip and tumbled to the ground. Littlebury landed beside her.
A growing red stain bloomed across his shoulder. She met his gaze and her pulse kicked. He was alive. The outlaw staggered upright. Disoriented and stumbling in pain, he fired wildly. A bullet hit the ground and dirt pellets exploded into the air.
The horses danced nervously between them. She reached for her reticule, and a hoof grazed her arm.
Littlebury was staggering toward the hotel. Toward Sean.
She closed her hands around the barrel of her gun. Setting her jaw, she took aim. She’d finally found true love, and she wasn’t letting some foul-smelling outlaw ruin her future happiness.
The outlaw leveled his gun at Sean’s chest.
Hoping the bullet might graze him, he tossed his body to one side. Time slowed and Sean pictured Delia’s face. Sorrow tore through him. He should have let her speak before. He should have told her that he loved her. He’d wanted everything to be perfect, and now it was too late. A gunshot sounded and Sean braced for the bullet ripping through his flesh.
Littlebury staggered forward and collapsed on his knees then fell on his face in the dirt.
Delia stood behind him, a smoking gun in her hand.
Sean gaped. The gun drooped from her limp fingers, and he crossed the distance in three strides, catching her in his arms. Behind her, the rest of his unit appeared and mustered around the prone man.
Sean’s heartbeat stuttered.
She was safe.
In the short time he’d known her, she’d changed him. He was normally a man who made logical decisions and rarely acted on impulse. When Delia was near, all rational thought fled. A fierce sense of protectiveness gripped him. He’d die for her.
She pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “Did I kill him?”
Sean glanced at the prone man. “Let’s just say that I don’t think you’re going to get that interview.”
“I should have listened to you.” She sobbed. “He was evil.”
Sean took the gun from her limp fingers, and led her toward the hotel. “Are you all right? You fell. Are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt.”
He dusted her sleeves and searched for any sign of injury. She appeared shaken but unharmed, and remarkably robust considering the turmoil of the past forty-eight hours. He led her into the hotel.
“You’re bleeding!” She stared at his left shoulder. “Littlebury shot you.”
“It’s nothing. A scratch.”
Becky rushed toward them, but Paul held her back. “Let’s give them some time alone together.”
Sean flashed his brother a grateful smile and urged Delia to sit. “I have a new idea for a story.”
“What’s that?”
He knelt before her and took her chilled hands. “An investigation into the phenomenon of love at first sight.”
“Are you a believer?” she asked, her voice watery with emotion.
“I am now.”
“I think I’m falling in love with you, Sean.”
“That’s a coincidence. I believe I’m falling in love with you, as well.”
All his doubts and fears dissolved. He sought her lips with an ardent passion, as though he’d been waiting his whole life for this single moment.
She pulled away and touched his cheek. “But we’ve only just met. What if this is simply a passing infatuation brought on by heightened emotion from a dangerous situation?”
“Why don’t we stay married long enough to find out?”
“Are you certain?”
“On two conditions.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are they?”
“Robert lives with us.”
“Agreed.”
“And I can’t live in a town without a newspaper,” he said. “Do you know any good reporters?”
“I might have some connections.”
“Then, yes, we can stay married.”
Their lip
s met and their breath mingled. Sean savored the pleasure of the moment and considered their future together with heady anticipation. He wasn’t the man he wanted to be, not yet, but he was well on his way. He had a family. He had love. He had Delia.
This wonderful, caring, intelligent, beautiful, and utterly infuriating woman wanted him. Just him. And he wanted nothing more than to be the man she deserved.
Three weeks later, Delia, Sean, Paul, Becky, Violet, and the grocery delivery man stood before the newly ordained reverend of the newly renamed town, Whynot Bend.
Delia’s father dabbed at his brow, and her mother reached over Robert, who sat between them, and patted her husband’s knee. “Relax, dear; think how much money we’re saving getting them married all at once.”
“Small consolation,” her father mumbled. “Becky is on crutches, Paul is covered in spots, Sean’s still bandaged from a bullet wound, and Delia’s eye has barely healed. They look like escapees from a hospital ward, not a wedding party.”
“Think how easy their marriages will be after having survived their courtships.”
“Nothing is ever easy.” Delia’s father tucked his handkerchief into his suit pocket. “It’s a good thing we didn’t have any more children, my poor heart can’t take it.”
Robert looked between the two. “Are you really moving to Montana?”
“I guess I have to,” her father grumbled. “There’s no one left in Denver, and now the grocer won’t even deliver since Violet has married his best delivery boy.”
“Then can I call you grandpa?” Robert asked with innocent sincerity.
Her father hastily reached for his handkerchief once more. “You surely can,” he said. “You surely can.”
Delia glanced over her shoulder at the crowd of people. The entire town of Whynot had turned out for the wedding.
She squeezed Sean’s hand. “Are you certain you don’t miss the army?”
“How can I miss the army when my wife is better armed than most outlaws? Not to mention, between the chores and the kissing, I don’t have time for much else.”
