by Reece Butler
Amelia smiled and winked. “He seems to think so.”
“The way he looks at you…”
Rosa turned away, sudden tears threatening. She never cried. Ever. Tears only made them want to take more from you, laughing at your pain.
“I’m sorry,” said Amelia quietly. “It’s just that he always seems sad. Today he looks like he could almost fly with joy. Whatever happens, you’ve brought that to him.” She cleared her throat. “Now. My carpetbag is in the trunk in the corner. My unmentionables are in there as well. I had to hide them under the quilts so my husband wouldn’t take them.”
Rosa followed directions for the next few minutes. She quickly realized that Amelia wore no corset, though she had a few layers under her dress. She herself wore undergarments that disguised her shape, making her more straight and bulky than she really was. It was a habit from so long ago, she wasn’t sure she could ever be comfortable without the layers.
The trip back to Tanner’s Ford was quite different than the drive up. Rather than two shy people testing the waters of friendship, there was a lot of laughter. George Henley teased her with a life that could never be hers.
She insisted George drop her off at Lily’s on the way past. She had supper to get ready, after all. She saw Amelia look wistfully across the street to the jail, then harden her face and turn away.
Rosa worked long into the night, both to catch up on her work and because she couldn’t settle. She couldn’t get the thought of a different life out of her mind. Was such a life possible for her?
Chapter Forty-Three
“Therefore, Ross MacDougal will not be charged with any offence regarding the man known as Zeb and”—Sheriff Chambers looked at the paper in his hand—“Octavius Browne.” He folded the sheaf of papers listing the evidence he’d read out and stuck them back in his pocket.
“I come here for a hangin’, dang it, and I want one!” The yell came out of the crowd. Others shuffled their feet and nodded in agreement.
Ross, standing beside the sheriff, caught the eye of the complainant. He quickly looked away, but other complaints were shouted. He glared back at them, confident now that his knives were back in their places. A bath and his most comfortable vest, hat, pants, chaps, and boots also helped.
The townsfolk on the boardwalk were outnumbered by visitors. From the jail to the mercantile, the street looked to be filled with scum eager for a rumble. Luckily, the wind was at his back, blowing their stench toward the jail. Miss Lily and a few of her modestly dressed painted ladies fluttered fans on the west fringes of the crowd. Some of Baldy’s prettiest gals did the same on the eastern end of the crowd. They fluttered eyelashes and swished their skirts, cut well above their ankles.
Everyone was here. Everyone but Amelia.
“We come here for fun,” yelled a gap-toothed yahoo. He lifted his pistol in the air. “If ya cain’t give it, we’ll make our own!”
“You shoot that and you’ll be looking at life from the wrong side of the bars, buster,” called out Frank. “Mrs. McLeod has a special dinner prepared at the hotel for anyone who’s clean, decent, and has four bits to spend on good food.”
Ross noticed Baldy hurrying his girls down the street and into the saloon. Gillis and Nevin were setting some boards over upturned barrels in front of the saloon. He turned back to the crowd’s rumble when he heard Charlie Newton swearing as he cleared the way for Orville Rivers. The mayor walked up the steps and held up his arms.
“Welcome to Tanner’s Ford, gentlemen. Since the sheriff says there won’t be a hanging,”—he waited for the boos and complaints to settle down—“we put a little something together for you.”
Cheers for the mayor broke out. He nodded regally as if it was all his idea. Far down the street, men rolled barrels into place behind what Ross realized was a temporary saloon.
“First, all gunbelts must be left at the jail.” They grumbled, but it wasn’t unusual. “Baldy’s got extra barrels and bottles, the ladies are ready to provide entertainment and—” whistles and catcalls covered up the rest of his words. Others hushed up the noisemakers. “Thanks to generous donations, beer is free from four to six o’clock. After that, dances are half price for an hour.” He lifted his pocket watch from his vest and flipped open the lid. “It’s quarter of the hour now, so you might want to stop by the jail and—”
As one, the crowd turned and fought their way to the jail. Trace and his brothers, along with the men of the Double Diamond and Circle C, waited to take the guns. Once unloaded, the men ran down the street to be first in line. The mayor watched them with a look of distaste. Never one to miss a good meal, he turned into the hotel. Ross and Frank moved to the far end of the verandah as others followed.
“Damn good idea that Trace came up with,” said Frank quietly to Ross. “His idea, but the MacDougals are providing the gold to pay for it.” He tilted his head and looked up at Ross. “Might be cheaper than holding a funeral and wake for your sorry hide.”
“Where’s Amelia?”
“Upstairs. You think she wants to see you?”
“Nope, but I have some groveling to do. Maybe after that, she’ll look at me.”
“You got a hankering for humble pie, son?”
Ross shook his head. “I want my wife in my bed again. If I have to chew iron and spit nails, I will.”
“Been there myself now and then. Hurts like hell at the time, but a happy woman makes up for it pretty darn quick.”
Ross grunted. He didn’t know if Amelia would let him in the room, much less listen to his apology. He had no idea what he would say, just that he had to try.
“She’s in the honeymoon suite, as Sophia calls it,” said Frank. “You got a key?”
“Nope.”
“What if she won’t open the door?”
“Sheriff, there ain’t a door or window within a hundred miles that can keep me out of somewhere I want to be.”
“How’ll you climb the brick to get to the second floor?”
“Rope the chimney and haul myself up. Might have to break a window.”
“You remind me of myself, going after Mary. Her papa thought I was lower than a skunk. I’ve still got buckshot in my ass from that man. But I married her. Thirty years, five children living, and eight grandkids so far. Damn, I miss that woman.” He settled his hat and cut across the street to the jail.
“Mr. Ross, have you seen my pa?” The voice came from the shrubs beside the hotel porch. Ross peered down to find Daniel, crouching with his arms wrapped around his knees. Ross shook his head.
“I want to see Billy! I know he’s here somewheres.”
Ross looked around. He saw Paddy O’Keefe helping with the gunbelts at the jail.
“Billy’s father is helping at the jail. He might be there, too.”
Daniel gave him a wide smile. He crept out of the bushes and peered across the road. He stepped out just as a trio of whooping riders raced into town.
“Ernie Thompson!”
Daniel stopped and turned to the voice. His father raced down the street toward him, facing the horses. Daniel shivered with eyes wide, unable to move. Ross, standing on the porch, saw everything. He leaped over the railing and ran toward the street, knowing he was too late.
Daniel’s father reached the boy first. He grabbed him up and threw him toward Ross on the boardwalk. Ross caught Daniel and turned his back as the horses raced past. He heard the high-pitched screams. Daniel struggled to get away, to see. Ross pressed the boy’s face into his chest.
“Don’t look, Daniel.” He held him tight until the only sound was the gasps of the crowd.
“Is my pa dead?” Ross turned his head to check.
“Yes.”
Daniel burst into tears. Ross carried him into the hotel and up the stairs to Gillis’s room. He glanced at the bridal suite, where Amelia waited, as he passed. Gillis was next door. Daniel cried from the bottom of his ten-year-old heart.
He couldn’t pick the lock while carrying the boy,
so he sat cross-legged on the floor. He held his new son and waited for the storm to pass. Some storms were bigger than others, but they all eventually passed.
With all the excitement outside, the wide hall was deserted. As Daniel’s cries slowed, Ross listened for a sound from Amelia’s room. He heard nothing. Perhaps she was asleep or staring out the window at the excitement below.
Finally, Daniel snuffled in his arms. Ross rocked back and forth, just enough to be a comfort without it being too much like what a mother would do.
“I’m sorry your pa’s dead, Daniel.”
“He were good when he don’t drink,” hiccupped the boy.
“He loved you very much.”
“He hated me.”
“If he hated you, why did he save your life with his own? He saw what was happening and raced to save you. He was there for you when you needed him most.”
“I gots nobody now.”
The small heart beat frantically against Ross’s chest like a bird caught behind a closed window.
“Your pa gave you to me. He saw me catch you and knew you were now my son.”
Daniel pushed back to look up at Ross. He rubbed away the leftover tears. “My pa did that?”
Ross nodded. “He knew I couldn’t save you in time. He grabbed you and looked at me. He threw you to me on purpose. If you couldn’t have him for a pa anymore, he wanted you to have a mother and father who’ll love you forever.”
Daniel leaned his head against Ross’s chest again. He pulled the boy close. His heart slammed hard in his ribs. He would do the same for his child, yet unborn. Would know he was to die but accept it as long as his child lived.
“You’ve lost one set of parents, but you’ve got us now. Uncles and aunts and cousins as well as a new mother and father.”
He kissed his new son’s head.
“Do you want to be my son, Daniel? If not, Gil or Nevin or any of the Elliotts would be proud to have such a brave, helpful boy.”
His hair rubbed on Ross’s bare chest as he shook his head. “I want you.”
“Good. I want you, too.”
“Will I be Daniel Ernest Thompson MacDougal?”
“That’s a pretty big name, but I think you can live up to it, son.”
“Kin I call you Da, like Billy does his pa?”
“I’d be honored. What will you call my wife?”
“I already call her Ma in my head.”
“Then Ma it is.”
Daniel stretched. Ross took the hint and let him go. “If you want in the room, I can pick the lock.”
“You kin do that?” Delight lit up his face.
“Yes, but only when necessary.”
Daniel shrugged one shoulder. “Naw, I’m gonna go find Billy and tell him I’m a MacDougal now.”
Ross raised a finger.
“I’ll look afore crossing the street.”
“You might want to wash your face first. Real men cry, but they don’t let the women know.”
“’Cause it makes them sad?”
Ross nodded. Daniel dashed down the hall and out the back door. After the emotional storm and whirlwind of activity, Ross rested his head against the wall and just sat.
He had claimed a son. The boy was now a part of him.
Nevin would accept it immediately. A statement of claiming was worth more than a piece of signed paper. Gil already wanted to have the boy give fealty to Clan MacDougal. No one would mess with the ten-year-old son of Ross MacDougal.
Daniel had done everything right to help save Amelia. He knew he couldn’t stop two grown men from kidnapping her. He’d followed, discovering where she was, then gone for help. What else could a young boy do?
Fly down a mountain and kill four men?
He failed to stop them when he was a child, but he was not a failure. He was no jackal like his father. He was a warrior.
Grandfather was right. He must let the dead go and take care of the living. He had one son and a baby on the way. If, that was, he could convince Amelia to be his wife. Again.
He looked to his right. His future lay just behind that door. Facing a dozen men was nothing compared to an angry, hurting wife.
Chapter Forty-Four
Amelia rested her foot on a stool as she watched the crowd of men whooping it up in front of Baldy’s Saloon. None of them sent a tingle through her the way that stranger had the first night. Right here, at this window.
Thinking about Ross sent trepidation as well as a tingle. Was her husband out there celebrating his release from jail? Or had he already left on his quest for vengeance? She rested her hand on her flat belly.
“Your papa is too stubborn to see that I love him or admit he loves me. He’s a fool,” she told the speck of life growing in her. “But if he doesn’t want us, then good riddance. Nevin is a fine man, as is Gillis. They’ll raise you just as well as your papa would. You’ll have brothers and sisters to play with, two uncles, aunts, and cousins.”
She rubbed her fingers over the itchy remnants of a blister. She wanted to scratch it but knew it would be worse if she did. Sitting here alone made it hard to keep her mind off the irritation.
“If Gillis forged Ross’s name to the contract, our marriage is invalid. Any decent judge would rip up the contract. Nevin wants to marry me. He’s a very nice man and says he loves me.”
She groaned. She loved Nevin, but she loved Ross more. She wanted him more. He didn’t want her.
“Damn the man!”
Her swearing echoed off the high walls. It felt so good to say something rather than keep it inside as she was taught. “Double-damn and blast him!”
She laughed, feeling free for the first time since the attack. No, not “the attack.” Since she escaped from a prison where two men were going to torture, rape, and murder her. “Triple-damn them both to hell!”
She was free of those men and her husband. Lots and lots of men would want to marry her, just because she was female, fertile, and free.
But none of them made her feel the way Ross did. Hot, wicked, wanting, and wet. Nevin came close, and Gillis was beginning to accept the idea of doing more than kissing her crazy. Only Ross made her so hot she couldn’t stand to go a day without his hot cock pounding somewhere in her.
She drew her palm over her breast, already firm from the thought of what she wanted to do with him. Beth told her she was insatiable for the first three or four months she was breeding then needy the rest of the time. Beth and her three men even had a long loving session the day before James was born.
A spark twitched in her clit. It demanded attention after days of being ignored. She thought back to the meadow, when both men did what she needed while Gillis watched. She wanted to be filled, now! Nevin and Gillis helped Frank Chambers keep order, and Ross was likely on the fastest horse going somewhere else.
If she was going to be hot and wanting with no man around to solve the problem, then she’d solve it herself. She yanked on the curtains, closing herself off from the street. She undid the top three buttons of her dress, caressing the skin underneath. She leaned back her head and captured her breasts, pretending it was Ross’s hands that kneaded them. But his hands were so much larger. So much more adept.
The curtains ruffled as the hot breeze blew in. For decency’s sake, she wore her dress, camisole, corset, bloomers, and three petticoats. Far more than she was used to. Far too much when she was all alone and likely to be so until morning.
She quickly undid all the dress buttons above her waist. She pulled her arms out and let the cotton drop off her shoulders. Her corset followed. She groaned and inhaled deep into her lungs. She flapped her wrinkled shift, damp from perspiration.
“That feels much better.”
She undid her skirt buttons and all the camisoles. She stood up, balancing on her good foot. She pushed off her skirt and all but one camisole. She picked them up, draping them over the back of the chair. Putting as little weight on her foot as possible, she hopped toward the room with the bed.
She’d only taken two steps when someone banged on the door. She turned toward the door and set her foot down. Pain erupted. She cried out and lifted it, arms flailing. She grabbed the back of the padded chair she’d just left and fell into it.
“Amelia? Are you all right in there?”
Ross!
“What the hell do you want?” she yelled. Tears prickled her eyes as she rubbed her ankle, throbbing once more. Dead silence from the other side of the door.
“Are you hurt?”
“None of your damned business!”
Another long silence. The doorknob rattled. She stared at it. She heard scratching sounds. After a moment, the doorknob turned, and he stepped in. His eyes flashed around the room. They lingered on her bandaged foot for a moment. When he was satisfied she was alone, he relaxed enough to close and lock the door.
She gulped. He wore the same outfit as when she’d seen him on the street. His smooth leather vest curved over his shoulders. The edges parted, revealing his wide, muscular chest. His chaps framed the cock straining at his buttons. She stared at it, remembering how good he tasted. She licked her lips.
“Look me in the eyes, wife.”
His face was like stone except for the eyes that glared at her. Cold eyes and hot cock at the same time.
“Gillis forged your signature. I’m not your wife.”
He stepped forward. His boots hit the floor with loud, slow thunks. One. And another. His eyes never left hers.
“You’re my wife, Amelia Smathers MacDougal.” He dropped his hat on a table as he passed. “You’ve picked up some bad habits. No more swearing like a muleskinner.”
“It feels good to swear!”
“Then swear away. Your bottom will feel good when I spank you for it.”
“What!” His eyes burned the answer straight to her clit. It pulsed, demanding his fingers and tongue. She clenched her pussy, remembering how his hand zapped her bottom.
“But you don’t want me. You ran away!”
“I never said I was perfect. You’re pretty damn close to it, though.” He slipped his vest off his shoulders, revealing the flat, brown nipples she loved to bite.
