Abbie's Outlaw

by Victoria Bylin

  Abbie would have given the same advice to Susanna. Blinking back tears, she said, “I’m going to put this on the mantel for everyone to see. One look is going to tell you what brought me here. John is Susanna’s father.”

  After two beats of shocked silence, Mrs. Dray broke the tension with a huff. “It’s about time that man did right by you! Let me see that photograph.”

  Abbie passed the frame down the line of women who each admired Susanna and teased her about having a past as wild as John’s. Before she knew it, she had told them about Kansas and her years in Washington. She had also opened a pile of lovely gifts—everything from a recipe book to a bottle of exotic perfume to a calendar with the Women’s Auxiliary meetings marked on Thursdays.

  When the gifts had been opened and brunch consumed, Beth pushed to her feet. “We need to get Abbie dressed. The ceremony starts in half an hour.”

  Abbie gasped. She’d been having such a good time that she had forgotten to check the clock. Leaping to her feet, she said, “I haven’t done my hair! And someone needs to tell John the wedding’s on. I don’t want him to worry.”

  A knock interrupted the chatter. Beth opened the door to reveal Justin Norris holding a bouquet of roses.

  “These are from the Reverend for Mrs. Windsor,” he said, looking embarrassed. “He said he’ll see you at noon.”

  “I’d say that settles it,” Beth replied. “Come upstairs so we can get you dressed. You don’t want to keep the groom waiting.”

  Definitely not, Abbie thought. John had said he’d be waiting at the altar and she believed him. But neither did she want to keep him waiting even a minute.

  John opened his pocket watch and saw that the hands had moved two minutes since the last time he’d looked. The ceremony had been set for noon and it was close to a quarter-past. In the entire time she had been in Midas, Abbie hadn’t been late to anything.

  Sitting with Ethan in the front row, John was doing his best not to worry. His congregation had packed the church, and Lawton had taken his place in front of the altar at exactly noon. John was sure Abbie hadn’t talked to him, but neither had she sent John a word of reassurance.

  He had intended to talk to her this morning, but Ethan had dragged him out of bed with a fib about trouble at the hotel. John had been ready to mop up bloody noses when he’d walked into a celebration in his honor. He was itching to look at his watch again, but he settled for glancing at Lawton who had opened his timepiece and was scowling.

  Ethan stretched one leg and yawned. “Why do women always run late? I must spend three hours of every day waiting for Jayne.”

  But Abbie wasn’t Jayne.

  Ethan stretched his other leg. “They’re probably fiddling with the dress some more. You know how women are—they want everything to be perfect for a wedding.”

  “Maybe so,” John replied. But it seemed more likely that Abbie was locked in her room. He glanced back at Lawton who was tapping his toe. If John had been in the man’s place, he would have sent someone to check on the bride. But Lawton had better things to do—such as inspect his fingernails.

  In another minute John would have to say something to the crowd. Lord, he dreaded that thought. What did a jilted groom say to a church full of well-wishers? When Lawton looked at his watch again, John decided to face facts. Pushing to his feet, he took a final glance out the window. It faced the west side of the parsonage where last night he’d watched light spilling from Abbie’s window like a tunnel through the darkness. He wanted to speed through that tunnel now, straight to her room where he’d—

  A blur of ivory exploded through the parsonage door. Holding her skirt, Abbie came charging down the steps, hatless and clutching the roses he’d sent. Right behind her came Beth and then Jayne who was holding the hat that should have been on the bride’s head.

  “Forget the blasted hat!” Abbie cried. “There isn’t time!”

  Joy filled John’s heart as he watched Abbie race down the path to the church. Ethan poked him in the ribs. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

  “Not this time.”

  A buzz took over the room and people whispered, “She’s here, she’s here.” Jayne slipped into the church and took a seat in the back where a friend set Louisa in her lap.

  Deepening his scowl, the judge muttered, “It’s about time.” Then he signaled Hildy who struck the opening chord of the bridal march. As the music rang in the church, Beth came down the aisle and took her place across from Ethan.

  With all eyes on the back door, the congregation stood as Abbie emerged on Robbie’s arm, holding the roses and wearing the hat Jayne had managed to pin on her head. The lace veil covered Abbie’s eyes, but it left her mouth and flushed cheeks in view. How she’d moved so fast in her new button shoes and fancy gown was beyond John. Without a doubt, it was the most beautiful wedding dress he’d ever seen. The high collar was alluring without being prim. The straight sleeves gave Abbie’s arms a delicate strength, while the lace top hugged her curves and flared at the waist.

  In her gloved hands she held the bridal bouquet so that the roses seemed even redder against the ivory of her satin skirt. Silently he vowed that he’d never let this woman down. This was the ceremony that would matter, the one where he’d speak his heart. When Abbie reached the front of the church, Hildy played the last bar of the chorus with a flourish. The judge cleared his throat, pausing until the congregation quieted to a hush.

  With his back to the crowd and his eyes on Lawton, John gained a new perspective on weddings. His stomach knotted just as it did before a gunfight. This moment would change his life—far more than the commitment in Raton because now he wanted a future.

  The silent crowd turned somber. If John had been doing the ceremony, he would have told a funny story to put the bride and groom at ease. But Lawton hadn’t even cracked a smile. Instead he glowered as he shifted his gaze to the congregation. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to witness the union of this man and my daughter in the sight of Almighty Gaw-awd.”

  John had to grit his teeth. The judge’s booming voice didn’t have a speck of warmth in it, nor did his stained-glass tone suit John’s more personal style of preaching. Glancing down, he saw Abbie press her lips into a line as if she knew what was coming.

  Moore puffed out his chest and scowled some more. “I want to remind us all of Gaw-awd’s purpose for marriage. Eve was created from Adam’s rib to serve his needs. Women are delicate creatures. They are fragile and weak…”

  Sweet God in Heaven, John thought. Women as servants? Fragile? Weak? He’d like to see Lawton—or any man—carry a baby for nine months, pop it out and be willing to do it again. John knew what he was talking about. Since coming to Midas, he’d been called to three worrisome births. He’d heard the suffering, seen the joy when things worked out and shared the sorrow when they hadn’t. Whoever decided women were the weaker sex was a few bricks shy of a load—and so was Lawton.

  John considered taking over the ceremony, but he couldn’t do it without infuriating his father-in-law, so he settled for frowning as the judge aimed his gaze at the bride. “Abigail, you are to obey your husband.”

  Ah, hell. John had to speak up. “She damn well better not.”

  “I beg your pardon?” said the judge.

  John refused to let Abbie make that kind of promise. It went against everything he believed about marriage—that men and women were partners, that a man was to love his wife with sacrifice and passion, and a woman was to give her all to a man who would put her needs above his own. He was gearing up for barn-burner of a sermon when he saw Abbie push back the veil on the hat. After thrusting the flowers at Beth, she put her hands on her hips and glared at the judge.

  “Father, I’ve had a lifetime of your prejudice. I won’t tolerate another minute of it. Eve was human and she made a mistake. I’ve made a few, too. Who hasn’t? But Adam was the fool who listened to her. Why doesn’t anyone ever point that out?”
/>
  John couldn’t have agreed more. He’d preached on the Garden of Eden a few times, including his opinion that Adam had mush for brains. So did John, and he’d proven it last night. Glad for the chance for a fresh start with Abbie, he made his voice firm. “Your Honor, Abbie and I’ll finish on our own.”

  “How dare you insult me!” The judge’s eyes bugged as he pushed between John and Abbie and spoke to Robbie in the front row. “Young man, come with me.”

  When Robbie glanced at his mother, John could only imagine the ache in Abbie’s chest. All he could do was pray as the boy looked back at Lawton. “I want to stay, Grandfather—for my mother’s sake.”

  Some of the starch went out of the judge. “You’re a good son, Robbie. I can respect your decision.”

  As Abbie reached for John’s hand, Moore turned back to them. “Abigail, you have always been—and continue to be—an embarrassment. Your mother would be ashamed of you.”

  John wanted to tear the man’s head off, but Abbie was already talking. “Father, I feel sorry for you. Mother loved you, but you didn’t know her at all. Right now she’s happy for me, and she wants you to enjoy your grandchildren and be part of our family. If you’d like to stay for the ceremony, you’re welcome.”

  The judge ignored the olive branch and glared at John. “Leaf, you’re a disgrace. I’ve never been shown such a lack of respect in my life.”

  “Maybe not. But you’ve treated both your daughter and granddaughter with a lack of love.”

  Grumbling, Moore strode out the door. It had been propped open, so John had a clear view of the judge’s back against the blue Midas sky. When he was out of sight, John turned to his congregation. The preacher in him rather liked the stunned silence. Quirking a smile, he said, “Anyone want to go with the judge?”

  Nervous laughter filled the church, but no one moved.

  “Good. I have something to say to my wife, and I’d like you all to listen.”

  After sharing a private smile with Abbie, he took her hand and they faced the congregation together. “First off, I need to set the record straight. What Judge Moore said about women being the weaker sex is just plain wrong. The woman at my side is the bravest creature God ever put on earth. Fifteen years ago, she aimed a gun at me. If that didn’t take courage, I don’t know what does…”

  As he told the story of their first meeting, John felt his chest swell with love for his wife. It spilled over to Robbie who had made them both proud today, and to Susanna whose courage had made this moment happen. Still holding Abbie’s hand, John squeezed gently and finished the tale. “A child came from that time in Kansas. Her name is Susanna and she’s my daughter. She’ll be here any day now, and I hope you’ll all welcome her to Midas.”

  Old Mrs. Dray pushed to her feet. “Your wife beat you to the punch, Reverend. We heard all about it this morning. It’s about time to you married this woman!”

  “Actually, I already have,” John replied. “We got married in Raton last week.”

  “Well, sort of.” Abbie challenged him with a smile. “You never did kiss the bride.”

  John didn’t need to be asked twice. With the crowd whooping, he wrapped his arms around his wife and bent his face to hers. Their lips were just an inch a part when Ethan tapped his shoulder. “Hold up, Reverend. You forgot the ring.”

  John didn’t know whether to growl at Ethan for cutting off the kiss or to thank him keeping things on track. Without turning from Abbie, he held out his hand for the gold band. He had made promises to Abbie in Raton, but today he wanted to make vows of a different kind. Taking her hand in his, he slid the ring on her finger and looked into her eyes. “I’m not a perfect man, but my love for you is perfect. It’s as strong and endless as this circle.”

  He’d planned to say more, but he was too choked up so he simply kissed the gold on her finger. The town of Midas had been named for a king who had lost everything because he’d wanted too much. John had nearly suffered the same fate because he’d been afraid to want anything at all. He could almost hear Silas’s laughter. But with that sense of his friend came a punch to his gut. He was no longer a maverick preacher with nothing to lose. If something happened to him, Abbie and the children would grieve.

  As if she sensed his burden, she lifted his hand and slid a matching band on his finger. “I promise to be the best wife I can—now and always. I love you and believe in you. Nothing will ever separate us again.”

  It was long past time to kiss the bride. Years and days had been wasted. As if she felt the same urgency, Abbie put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him first.

  Never again would John look down the barrel of a gun with the indifference of a lonely man. As he and Abbie sealed their vows, he saw the past connect to the future. As if looking through smoky glass, he saw pictures from the past few weeks. He remembered Abbie finding her courage and hurling the rock she’d called “regret” as far as she could. He prayed she wouldn’t come to rue this day for the price that came with marrying him. He imagined Susanna coming home and making their family complete.

  But he could also see Ben Gantry’s gaunt face, storm clouds on the horizon and the Colt Lightning cocked and ready to fire. John pulled his wife closer, deepening the kiss, not wanting to let her go. He needed her courage, her hope, the defiance that made her love him.

  Not until he heard whoops and applause from the congregation did he gentle the kiss. Even then, it was a battle to pull away from her. The end of their embrace meant the beginning of new risks, new fears. Most grooms spent their wedding night making love to the bride. Not John. He’d be cleaning his guns and praying he wouldn’t need them.

  As the train sped across the border between Colorado and New Mexico, Susanna felt her pulse race with it. In Cheyenne they’d boarded the Union Pacific, traveling third-class and sitting in the back to avoid attention. From there, the train had clacked to Denver where they had switched to the Denver & Rio Grande. In Raton, they would board the Santa Fe and her journey would be almost over.

  She and Silas had been traveling for over two weeks. She was tired of sleeping on the seats, feeling dirty and being hungry for her mother’s cooking. She looked as ragged as she felt. Her hair had grown past her collar, and her boy’s clothes needed a good scrubbing.

  As the train swayed around a curve, Susanna imagined hugging her mother and saying she was sorry she had run away. As angry as she had been about being deceived, she had come to understand that the circumstances weren’t as simple as she’d wanted to believe. Silas had helped her to see the facts by asking questions about herself. Somewhere near Leadville, she realized she had a good life. It wasn’t perfect, but she had grown up with plenty to eat, a warm bed and believing her dreams could come true.

  Just as her mother had hoped, Susanna was free to choose her future. But what choices had her mother been given? And what about John Leaf? The Pinkerton reports said nothing about where he had grown up or who his parents were. Susanna glanced at Silas. He’d closed his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. “Silas?”

  The old man sat up. “What is it, child?”

  “Do you know why he left home?” She didn’t have to explain who he was. She still hadn’t figured out what to call John Leaf, though Silas had no such trouble.

  “That’s a good question for your daddy,” he replied. “I’m sure he has stories to tell. We all do.”

  One more day, Susanna thought. Tomorrow she’d meet the man whose blood she carried and she’d have answers. Looking out the window, she thought about the reports in her satchel and how incomplete they were. Did it really matter what he’d done, or was it more important to know the man he had become?

  Susanna wasn’t sure and she was too worn out to think about it. It felt much nicer to close her eyes and to let the train rock her as if she were a child. But as she slept, she dreamed of Robert Windsor and Ben Gantry’s threat about the pharaohs. The memory jarred her awake just as the train sped into a canyon and the whistle gave a shr
ill blast.

  Shivering, she realized that she wanted this journey to be over. She needed to meet John Leaf, but more than anything, she wanted to go home.

  Chapter Seventeen

  John put his hand on Abbie’s back and escorted her from the church to the parsonage. Amid a shower of flowers and well wishes, he relived the afternoon—everything from eating cake to the moment Jed Kennedy struck up a waltz on his fiddle. The crowd had pulled back, leaving John and Abbie alone in a circle of friends. It was the first time they had danced together. Now, with the sun dipping below the ridge, John thought about the way their bodies had swayed together. It should have been a preview of another dance to come, but he cut off that thought.

  He’d already made up his mind to keep his distance tonight. He and Abbie didn’t need another fiasco, nor was John in the mood for romantic talk. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Ben Gantry was lurking in the shadows. That worry made him edgy and short-tempered—the last kind of man Abbie needed tonight.

  The celebration had kept that tension at bay, but now those distractions were gone. Everywhere he looked he saw shadows and heard warnings. Even opening the door to the parsonage unnerved him. The rooms were too quiet, the air too still. All he could hear was the tick of the grandfather clock and the tap of Abbie’s shoes as she stepped into a beam of twilight sun streaming into the room. The glare lit up the ivory of her dress, including the tiny buttons that ran from her nape to the flare of her hips. Before John could avert his gaze, she turned to him.

  “I need help with my dress.” Her eyes dipped to the floor. “I can’t reach some of the buttons.”

  John almost offered to fetch her button hook, but what harm could there be in a favor? Husbands did it all the time. “Turn around,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “Here?”

  “Why not? We’re alone. I’ll give you a hand and then I’m going outside.”

  Abbie’s expression turned quizzical, but she didn’t speak as she flexed her shoulders to ease the tension on the silk. As he raised his hands to the top button, he saw strands of coppery hair curling at her nape and a tiny mole behind her ear. Human as he was, he wanted to kiss that spot. Instead he focused on the buttons and worked them in rapid succession. The gown gaped, giving him a glimpse of her camisole. “Go on and change,” he said, stepping back. “I’ve got things to do.”