The Lawman (The Willow Creek Series #1)

by Lily Graison

  “He’s in the house with grandpa.”

  When she frowned, Morgan knew something had happened. “What was it this time?”

  Alex shrugged her small shoulders. “Don’t rightly know. Grandpa was going on all morning about somebody named Buck and saying he’s gonna kill him. Pa was upset and sent me outside. I aint seen hide nor hair of ‘em since.”

  Morgan left her there by the corral with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to come back and help her with the lasso and headed for the house. When he reached the porch, Holden walked out the front door. “For gods sake, Morgan, don’t even speak to the man. It took me damn near two hours to calm him down.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Holden nodded and ushered him back down the steps. He looked toward the corral, smiling at Alex before turning his attention to him. “So, what brings you way out here? And please tell me you didn’t leave that woman locked up in the jail.”

  Morgan sighed, lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. He looked over at Holden and thought of lying to him. He grinned instead. “Actually, I did. Can’t let her just walk around town. I did arrest her if you remember.”

  “I remember. I’m just not sure why you did.”

  Morgan was trying to figure that one out himself. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do but now that he looked back on it, he knew he’d just done it because she’d annoyed him and ruined his day. Sure the saloon was destroyed but hell, it looked like that once a month anyway. Someone was always starting a brawl in there. The last time, Ben Crowley and his crew had done it. They’d all spent a night in jail to sleep off their drunk and he released them the next day. It was what he’d planned on doing with Abigail so why was she still locked in that tiny cell?

  If he knew the answer to that, he wouldn’t even be out here. Her asking if Holden was unmarried started him thinking things he shouldn’t have. At the time, he’d been shocked, then put out she’d ask about his brother first as a possible husband and not himself. Not that getting married was on his list of priorities. It hadn’t been in years, but it still stung a bit knowing his brother was preferred over him. Then Abigail had thrown him for a loop and propositioned him instead, going so far as to saying she wanted to crawl into his bed. The visual of her doing just that, butt ass naked, had left him aching to have her. He knew she was just pulling his leg, he could see the mischief in her eyes when she said it, and playing along had gained him a boon. A kiss. One he regretted ending so soon. The woman was as sweet as she looked. He’d grown hard and eager for her then and knew if he’d let it go on much longer, he would have had her bent over the table with her skirt over her head while feasting on her flesh like she was his personal dessert.

  The look on her face after kissing him confused him though. She wasn’t angry like he thought she’d be which led him to think maybe he’d read her wrong. That maybe she hadn’t been teasing him about marriage after all. And he’d gone and said he would.

  He looked back over at Holden, raised a hand and scratched his chin. “I think I might have agreed to marry her this morning.”

  Holden said nothing. Just stood there staring at him for long moments before he started laughing. A few of the ranch hands looked their way, even Alex stopped what she was doing to see what was going on. When Holden finally stopped hee-hawing, Morgan was scowling at him. “It aint that damn funny.”

  “Oh, but it is.” Holden rubbed his eyes, grinning widely. “Miss Angelina over at the saloon will go out of business if you stop calling on her girls. That is assuming having a wife at home is enough to keep you occupied.”

  Morgan hadn’t even thought of that. He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t guess many women would want their husbands spending much time in the rooms above the saloon. Guess I could always get out of it that way.”

  Holden turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. “Get out of it? You can’t be serious.”

  “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?” Morgan started across the yard, heading back to the corral where Alex was trying to lasso her pony. Holden followed. “Would you give up a harem full of women for the same one every damn night?”

  Holden grinned. “Actually, yeah, I would.”

  The fact Holden had been married at one time escaped him most days. His brother’s marriage to Maggie had been so brief it was hard to recall what she’d even looked like. Looking at Alex usually reminded him, though. She had her mother’s blonde hair and dainty features. She was small and fair skinned and he hoped like hell she wasn’t prone to sickness like her mother had been. Losing Maggie had been hard on them all, especially Holden. Taking care of a newborn was a daunting task for a house full of men but they’d done it. It was probably why the girl had an aversion to all things—girly.

  “You’re not still thinking about Cecilia, are you? Because you can’t judge all women by that one. Marriage isn’t as difficult as she made it out to be.”

  At the mention of her name, Morgan felt his stomach clench in remembered anguish. He tried not to think of her most days. It’s why he spent as little time as possible in the fancy house he’d had built in town. It was for her, after all. Shaking his head, he threw Holden a heated glare. “I hadn’t thought of her at all before now so thanks for the reminder.”

  “Sorry,” Holden said. He turned, braced his back against the fence and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, tell me what happened. How did marriage come about with your prisoner and why aren’t you jumping at the chance?”

  Morgan told him how the conversation started, omitting the part where Abigail asked if Holden were single. “I thought she was teasing me but now I get the impression she wasn’t.”

  “And you’ve told her you would?”

  He nodded his head. “Pretty much.”

  Holden laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Not sure what to tell you, Morgan, other than to take advantage of it. There’s worse things to be saddled with than a willing woman in your bed every night. If it were me, I’d already have ridden half the country trying to find the circuit preacher.”

  Morgan blew out a breath and pushed the rim of his hat up. Talking to Holden hadn’t brought him any closer to an answer than he had before riding out to the ranch. He wasn’t even sure why he cared. Telling Abigail he wasn’t serious about marrying her would be easy but for some reason, a little part of him didn’t really want to do it. Probably the part that got tired of paying for sex and eating cold, bland meals by himself. Having a woman at home waiting on him would be nice. The thought used to cheer him up but ever since Cecilia, it only brought home the fact that having a woman was more trouble than they were worth and he was sure Abigail Thornton would be too.

  * * * *

  Abigail had paced the length of her tiny cell until her feet ached. She’d cursed Morgan Avery’s name in every fashion she knew how and plotted ways to get even with him for taking advantage of her. She’d cooked a meal for him that even her grandmamma would have been proud of, treated him to a salacious reminder that she was a woman in need of a man and kissed him back as hungrily as he’d kissed her. And what had the ornery old goat done? Locked her back up in this stinking little hovel of a jail cell and—left her there!

  She’d yelled until her throat was hoarse and been the subject of more than one person sticking their head inside the jailhouse to stare at her. A few venomous words had them all retreating. She was furious at the townsfolk of Willow Creek as well. How could they leave her, a woman, inside the building alone without even batting an eye? What sort of people were in this town anyway?

  The door opened again and Abigail turned, ready to let fly another viscous tirade at the man who stuck his head in to gawk at her but stilled her tongue when a heavy set woman with graying hair walked in. The woman smiled, repositioned the basket that was hanging from her arm by the handle, and pushed the door open wide. “Good afternoon to ya.”

  Abigail tried to smile but failed miserably. The woman didn’t seem
to notice. She was too busy dragging the chair sitting in front of the desk across the room and toward the jail cell.

  When she had the chair where she wanted it, she stood, placed the basket on top and stuck her hand through the bars. “I’m Edna Pierce and let me say, Morgan Avery should be ashamed of himself locking you up in here.”

  The smile Abigail graced the woman with was genuine, then. Someone else in this town thought the marshal was a vile creature, too. Abigail liked her already. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, taking the woman’s hand. “Abigail Thornton.”

  Edna clucked her tongue, shaking her head before scrunching up her nose. “This place is as horrible as always. It smells of filth and isn’t a fit place for a woman.” She turned, grabbed the basket and slid back the checkered linen lying on top. An assortment of food lay inside. Chicken and biscuits, an apple, and a few slices of cheese. It was enough to cause Abigail’s stomach to growl. It had been hours since breakfast and she hadn’t eaten much then.

  Taking the basket when it was offered, Abigail sat on the edge of the cot and tucked in to the food as Edna sat down on the chair. The woman started talking immediately and Abigail only half listened. The goings on in town really didn’t interest her. It didn’t take long to realize Edna Pierce was the town busy-body and local gossip.

  The woman talked non-stop for twenty minutes about nonsensical things but Abigail perked up when she heard Morgan’s name mentioned and raised her head. Edna had a disapproving look on her face. “He’s not fit for much more than sitting in this jail,” she was saying. “Why the way he carries on…” Edna shook her head, making that clucking sound with her tongue. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He spends almost every night over at the saloon. The way I hear it, he knows more about those… women, they keep upstairs than anyone else in town.” Edna raised her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. “He’s not very particular, they say.”

  Edna went into great detail about Morgan’s social life, particularly his fondness of the whores above the saloon. He spent more time in their beds than he did his own, apparently. When Abigail asked why, Edna brightened and straightened her back. “Oh, most people think it’s because of Miss Cecilia.”

  The mention of another woman drew Abigail’s attention fully. She wiped her hands on the checked linen and sat the basket on the floor by her feet. “Who is Cecilia?”

  “Oh, she was the marshal’s fiancé. He built that house for her, you know. Spent every dime he had getting it all fixed up. Sent off for store bought furniture, too. I haven’t seen the inside but I hear it’s the grandest home in all of Willow Creek.”

  Abigail blinked at Edna and opened her mouth to say the house was nice but the woman talked right over her.

  “She was a pretty little thing, that Cecilia. A little uppity if you ask me, but most people with money usually are.” Edna sniffed as if she were slighted and continued. “The way I hear it, once Miss Cecilia saw how small and rugged Willow Creek was, she was so offended Morgan would even consider making her live here, she cried all the way back to Missoula and straight to the arms of her father’s business associate. She’s living out in San Francisco last I heard.”

  The conversation lasted for another hour and Abigail was yawning by the time Edna got around to telling her about Morgan’s three brothers. Apparently one of them, Colton, was an outlaw wanted in four states and dangerous to boot. He was the twin to Holden, whom she’d met. The youngest, Tristan, also had a tarnished reputation. A gambler by trade who didn’t know how to turn down a card game if his life depended on it and their father was just this side of crazy ever since their mamma passed.

  When Edna stopped talking, Abigail focused her attention back on her. “He hasn’t done anything… unseemly since he locked you up has he?”

  Abigail grinned. “Not really.”

  Edna’s eyes widened. “Oh, do tell.”

  The fact this woman would probably tell everything Abigail said to her to every person who would listen didn’t cross her mind until it was too late. When she told Edna Morgan had taken her home with him last night, the woman looked so scandalized, she rose from her seat, hand to her chest, and gasped until her face turned blue.

  “Took you home with him! Whatever for?” Edna jumped to conclusions and was in a tizzy within moments. She was mumbling to herself, wringing her hands and talking about having Morgan booted out of his position as town marshal. Normally, Abigail wouldn’t have cared but since she’d had time to cool off, her ire at Morgan wasn’t as severe as it had been. Hearing this woman spout off about having Morgan lose his job, however, was her fault entirely.

  She stood, walked to the cell door and reached through, trying to get Edna’s attention. “Don’t worry, Edna. He was a perfect gentleman, I can assure you.”

  Edna stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “Are you sure?”

  Abigail smiled and nodded her head, laughing to try and lighten the mood. “Yes. I used one of the spare bedrooms. He didn’t want me to have to sleep here in the cell on that old cot.”

  “Oh.” Edna actually looked disappointed for a moment before she scoffed. “Well, I’m surprised. Morgan hasn’t ever been overly kind to anyone, especially me. He’s a horrible, vile, wretched man. Why, I think he purposely tries to annoy me most days.”

  He probably does. Abigail kept that comment to herself and smiled. “He was nothing but kind, Edna, so don’t go worrying about how I was treated. Why, when he found out my husband to be wasn’t here to greet me he said he’d marry me!” The moment the words were out of her mouth, Abigail regretted them. She didn’t know why she said it other than to dispel Edna’s aggravation at Morgan, but when Edna looked at her, she could see a change come over the woman. It was like watching the sun burst through the clouds and brighten a once gloomy day. Edna perked right up, smiling before clasping her hands together. “See, I knew the marshal was a kind and decent man. I’ve been telling everyone in town that he is and no one will believe me. Why, you just wait until they hear of this! They’ll all see.”

  Edna left in a swirl of petticoats, pulling the door to the jail closed behind her. Abigail wasn’t sure exactly what happened, or what changed Edna’s mind where Morgan was concerned, but trying to figure it all out would do her no good anyway. She was still locked up, Morgan was still not letting her go and she really had to use the privy. She glanced at the pot under the small bed and grimaced. “I really do hate you Morgan Avery.”

  The moment she said his name, he opened the door to the jail house and walked in. He had the audacity to smile at her and her temper flared at the smug look on his face. “It’s about time. Do you have any idea how hellish my day has been?”

  “Not really but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” He approached the cell, removed the key in his pocket and unlocked the door.

  “Are you finally going to let me go?”

  He grinned and held the door open for her. “Nope. You’re coming home with me.”

  “What ever for?”

  The look on his face promised things that made her insides quiver. She hesitated before stepping out of the cell, staring him in the eye as she stopped in front of him. She raised an eyebrow, sucked in a breath large enough her breasts rubbed against his chest. “Have you come to some accord about our arrangement, then?”

  Chapter Five

  Abigail refused to speak to him all the way back to the house. She was angry with him again. Not that he could blame her. Telling her he’d like to try out the merchandise first hand before marrying her sent her into a tizzy. Add in the fact left her locked up all day and hadn’t even made it back in time to grab her lunch and the woman had been fit to be tied. Seeing the basket on the floor by the cot eased his mind though. Someone had remembered she was there. Who that person was left him more curious than it should have. Was it one of the men in town? And if so, which one?

  He’d ridden back into town with every intention of discussing this marriage business with h
er. He still wasn’t sure if she was serious about it or not. One minute he thought she was, the next he laughed it off as her just teasing him. But every time he thought of it, he could picture himself married to her. Then reality settled in and he pushed the notion away. What did he need a wife for? Especially one as prickly as this one could be. She was too outspoken, too prone to tantrums. It was hard to tell what she’d do if pushed to it.

  He called her name again, only to have her ignore him and quicken her pace.

  When they arrived back at his house, Abigail climbed the stairs and went straight to her room, slamming the door behind her. Morgan realized leaving her in the jail all day wasn’t the smartest thing he could have ever done. She was mad at him again.

  He locked up the house, climbed the stairs in the dark, and walked down the hall to her door. The latch apparently hadn’t caught when she slammed it because it wasn’t closed now. A small shaft of light illuminated the hallway enough for him to see without falling.

  Reaching the door, he pushed it the rest of the way open and whished he wouldn’t have. Abigail was in the process of undressing and what little sunlight was streaming through the window was enough for him to see clean through her shift. She turned, saw him standing there, and unlike what most women would have done—scrambled to cover themselves—she propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. He could tell her bravado was tinged with embarrassment. Her neck went all funny with red splotches and her cheeks flushed pink.

  “Do you mind?” she asked. “This is my room after all. You don’t see me barging into your room seeing you in your drawers, now do you?”