Emmy (Gold Rush Brides Book 2)

by Cassie Hayes

  Mrs. Owen had ushered her into a side room, and had the hotel’s porter bring in the trunk. Naturally, they didn’t spend much time primping, but the woman had been so kind as to pick a bouquet of fresh wildflowers.

  Despite the events of the day before, Emmy was grateful she arrived a day early so she could look her best on this day. She was pleased with her overall appearance as she gave herself a once-over with the hand mirror. Her hand shook with nerves, creating a wobbly effect that made her stomach churn even more.

  Or was it something else?

  Everything was falling into place perfectly — with the exception of the terrifying robbery the day before — but she was more fretful than she’d ever been in her life. It was all happening so fast.

  They’d spent all of five minutes talking before they entered the church, with most of that time filled with him asking about her welfare after the hold-up. She insisted she was no worse for wear, which seemed to satisfy him. Then they were in the church’s foyer.

  It would have been wonderful to spend some time getting to know Roy before saying her vows. But there was nothing for it. Even if Roy had lied and been a old, fat drunkard, she had no choice but to marry the man. There was nothing left for her back in New York but misery, and she’d spent the last of her money on the luxury of a hotel. She had nowhere to go and no one else to turn to. This was her new life, whether she liked it or not.

  Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep, calming breath, she smiled at Mrs. Owen and nodded. “I’m ready.”

  The woman opened the door and led her to the church’s altar. There would be no walking down the aisle on her father’s arm for Emmy, and that nearly knocked the breath out of her. From the time she was a little girl, she pictured her father giving her away at her wedding. Even while he discouraged all suitors, she assumed she would one day be married, and her father would be there. She never dreamed he’d be taken from her so soon. As much as she’d taken him for granted, she always loved him deeply and she missed him more than ever, especially now.

  Roy was standing before the pastor, beaming at her, while two people were fidgeting in the front row. The man — a thin man even taller than Roy — was picking his teeth and looking around the small church, and his petite wife was staring at Emmy. Her gaze held a ferocity that made Emmy blink in surprise. She glanced uncertainly at Roy, but when she looked back at the woman, she was poking her husband to pay attention.

  Emmy smiled nervously at Roy as she stepped up to him and he took one of her hands. A glint in his eye held the promise of untold adventures and a future filled with mirth. She knew enough from his two letters to know he had a quick wit, and that he would provide a comfortable life for her. This new life in California would be different than anything she’d ever known, but with the devotion of a good man like Roy, she was looking forward to it. The knots in her stomach eased as she gazed into the depths of his slate blue eyes.

  “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Roy Kirby and Emma Gibson,” Reverend Owen began.

  Emmy cleared her throat and leaned in to him. “It’s Emmy,” she whispered, though for whose benefit she wasn’t sure.

  Roy burst into laughter. “That’s my feisty girl!”

  She supposed it was rather amusing, her correcting the reverend when most women would have pretended to not notice his error, but a frown creased her brow just the same. Something about Roy’s laugh unsettled her. Probably that he was laughing at her in the middle of their wedding, which wasn’t very polite.

  He must have read the look on her face and gave her a sly smile and a wink. “Oops, don’t want to upset the missus on our wedding day. Sorry, darlin’. Go ahead, padre.”

  The reverend cleared his throat and continued. “If there’s anyone who objects to this union, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

  Emmy thought this was the silliest part of the ceremony. Who on earth could possibly object to their marriage? She nearly jumped out of her skin when the church’s door slammed open and Sheriff Wilder’s silhouette loomed in the doorway. Suddenly, her heart was in her throat.

  “Sorry, folks,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Wind caught it. Am I too late to watch the doings?”

  As the sheriff settled into a pew at the back of the church, Emmy cast a sidelong glance at Roy, whose mouth had turned to a grim line. He must have had as big of a shock as she did. The sheriff’s timing was nothing if not impeccable!

  The reverend was good-humored but was becoming increasingly irritated by all the interruptions. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Roy, do you take Emma…Emmy…to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?”

  Roy turned to Emmy and winked. “You bet I do.”

  While the reverend asked the same of Emmy, it was all she could do not to turn around and glare at Sheriff Wilder. Why did that ill-mannered boor have to come here? What could he possibly gain from interrupting her wedding? Perhaps Roy had invited him while they were waiting for this morning’s stage, but he’d looked as surprised to see the sheriff as she had been. No, she decided, he came here just to spoil her day.

  At that moment, she became acutely aware that everyone in the room was looking at her expectantly. Her vows! She was standing there fuming over Sheriff Wilder and looking like a fool while they all waited for her answer.

  “Oh, yes, I do!” She blushed furiously and hoped Roy wouldn’t think she was having any misgivings.

  To hide any she might be harboring deep down, she gave him her most radiant smile, the one all the boys back east melted over. It worked, almost too well. The look he gave her in return was full of heat and passion and danger — a promise of what was to come that night — and her skin pebbled in apprehension.

  “…pronounce you husband and wife,” the reverend was saying. “You may now kiss the bride.”

  Roy bared his teeth in an animal grin and took Emmy in his arms, dipping her low. Heat from one hand burned through her dress to her waist while the other hand fisted her curls. His breath was hot on her lips as he stared into her eyes.

  “You’re mine now,” he whispered as his gaze raked her face possessively. She couldn’t deny the thrill that rushed through her at his words, though she also rebelled at the idea of being thought of as someone’s property.

  All conflicting thoughts evaporated like so much steam when his lips crushed onto hers. She had tentatively wrapped her arms around his shoulders, but now she gripped them tightly, holding on for support as her knees threatened to buckle under the enthusiasm of his kiss.

  The reverend’s subtle cough brought her back to reality, and Roy too, apparently. He helped her back to a standing position, one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his side.

  A smattering of applause rang out, and Emmy looked around while she tried to compose herself. Mrs. Owen was positively giddy as she clapped wildly, while the tall man gave a few halfhearted claps before resuming his perusal of the church. His wife sat stonily, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Sheriff Wilder was quiet in the back, grimly watching the proceedings.

  Why was he still there?!

  Emmy turned back to Roy, grasping his arm in both hands and beaming up at him. She wanted to show the sheriff how happy she was, and how he hadn’t ruined her day at all. Maybe that would irk him enough to make him leave.

  “Now there’s only the small matter of signing the marriage certificate,” Reverend Owen said. “Would the witnesses please come up?”

  The couple stepped up and signed where the reverend pointed, then walked straight out of the church without so much as a ‘congratulations’. Emmy frowned at their backs. When it was her turn to sign the certificate, she noted their names — James and Francis Crane. Strange that Roy never introduced them, but there really hadn’t been time.

  She was about to ask when he plucked the pen from her hand, kissing her o
n the tip of her nose, and dipped it in the inkwell. Emmy watched happily as his signed his name in big flowing loops and admired how rough and tanned his hands were. They were her husband’s hands. The hands of a hard-working man, not a big city dandy. Callouses and scars and lines bore witness to his labors.

  Her eyes traced one thin line up to where his cuff had pulled back a bit. Her brow crinkled as her brain tried to recall something — something that seemed very, very important. Her eyes zoomed in to a hard fine point, so tightly focused they ached. Her heart began racing and echoed in her own ears until all she could hear was the ocean roaring all around her. A dark, gray veil blurred everything but that one spot, the spot she couldn’t stop staring at.

  It was almost as if she no longer inhabited her body. She was aware that people were moving around her, that they’d taken hold of her and were talking to her, but she was powerless to respond. That spot held her full attention. Nothing else in the world mattered except that one little star-shaped scar.

  A sharp crack reverberated through her skull and pain seared her cheek as her head snapped to the side. Blinking in astonishment, she looked up at Roy. A mixture of concern and irritation danced across his features, flitting from one to the other.

  “I’m sorry I had to do that, darlin’, especially on our wedding day but you looked ‘bout ready to topple over. What’s got into you? You need to lie down?”

  Emmy stared up at him, her husband. The man she’d just vowed to spend the rest of her life cherishing. Her stomach churned and threatened to embarrass her by emptying itself on the church floor, not that it would come close to the humiliation she was suffering already.

  “You…” she whispered hoarsely, her vision sharpening and fading as she glared into Roy’s eyes.

  He smiled nervously and looked around them. The reverend and his wife were still standing nearby so he chuckled and said, “Yup, it’s me all right. Your loving new husband. Let’s get you home so you can take a rest. You must be plumb tuckered out.”

  Gripping her upper arm tightly, he started guiding her out of the church but she ripped free of his grasp.

  “You!” she cried, tears springing to her eyes and her breath coming fast and furious. Her world was tipping upside down and right side up, spinning out of control.

  A black look crossed Roy’s face. He stepped in close to her, drawing her almost nose-to-nose. Out of the corner of her eye, Emmy saw Sheriff Wilder stand, but he didn’t move any closer.

  “So you figured it out, did ya?” he murmured barely loud enough for her to hear. His eyes flicked nervously toward the sheriff, apparently trying to decide whether he should force her to leave with him or make a run for it. As dizzy as she was, Emmy could see the gears spinning in his head, playing out every possible scenario before settling on one.

  Pulling her into a tight hug, he buried his face in her hair and took a deep, penetrating sniff. He pressed himself against her body and a shudder of revulsion wracked her frame.

  “Tell a soul and I’ll do what I shoulda done yesterday,” he whispered.

  The terror she’d experienced the day before came rushing back, washing over her in waves, and the lightheadedness she’d been feeling lifted her up and away until she flew through the roof and into the blackness of unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mason watched in bewilderment as Kirby eased Emmy to the floor of the church, apparently in a dead faint. He stood and looked Mason directly in the eye and said, “I’ll go for the doctor.”

  Mason moved to help Emmy as Kirby rushed past him and out the front door of the church, wondering only vaguely why he hadn’t asked the sheriff to go for help while the loving new groom stayed with his ill bride.

  The Owens were bent over Emmy, waving their hands in her face like it would do some good. He knelt down next to her and gathered her up in his arms. He was shocked at how frail and thin she was, almost like a child. Cradling her in his lap, he brushed some stray yellow ringlets out of face and tried to smooth the crease in her brow.

  The stress of her voyage here and the fright she had from the hold-up must have taken their toll. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t imagine rushing the wedding so quickly. If he’d been the groom, he would have paid for her stay at the hotel for a couple more days to help settle her nerves, but that Kirby character had ushered her right into the church, first thing. Mason’s impression of the man was quickly diminishing.

  At least he gave her time to change into her dress. Mason could see why she’d insisted on dragging it all the way into town. It was quite a lovely thing, all white lace and frills and a thousand buttons. The white of the dress and her golden locks made her look every bit the part of an angel.

  After twenty minutes or so, Mason started to worry. She was dead to the world and wasn’t showing any sign of waking up. And what was taking that fool so long to fetch Doc Simonson? He was only two doors down, after all, and Mason knew for a fact he was in this morning because they’d had a short chat on his way to the church.

  Well, he hadn’t exactly planned on going to the church, but somehow had ended up standing in front of it anyway. He’d been deep in thought about the gang of road agents after he talked to this morning’s coach driver, who reported nothing unusual. A good walk always helped him see things from different directions, and when he looked up, there was the church.

  He’d only gone in on an impulse. It seemed like the neighborly thing to do, what with his rocky introduction to the bride. But the daggers her eyes shot at him made him regret his decision instantly. Only it was too late to leave without looking like a blockhead, so he sat in the back and tried to be inconspicuous. Hard for a big man to do in an empty church.

  Didn’t the groom have any friends? The two sitting up front looked like they had better things to do with their time, and didn’t seem at all friendly toward Emmy. He tried to think of what he knew about Roy Kirby, but didn’t come up with much. While they were waiting for Emmy at the station, Kirby mentioned that he had a place out near Rough and Ready, several miles distant. That was pretty much the extent of it.

  Just then Emmy started to moan a little. She was coming around. Where was the groom?!

  Her hand flitted toward her face then dropped down onto his. He knew she hadn’t done it on purpose, that she could barely be considered conscious, but her touch sent little sparks up and down his arm.

  When her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze met his and held it. He was certain she wasn’t really seeing him, rather she was simply getting her bearings, but regardless, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her cornflower blue eyes. She was, without a doubt, the loveliest creature he’d ever seen.

  Then she opened her mouth.

  “How dare you lay your hands on me, Sheriff Wilder!”

  She scrambled to an unsteady standing position, grasping the pew next to her for support. Breathing heavily, she glowered at him.

  “Tell me you didn’t let him get away,” she nearly shouted. “Tell me that you arrested him!”

  Mason was confused. He looked to the Owens for support but they both shrugged.

  “Arrested who?”

  Emmy huffed in exasperation, stomping her foot to get her point across.

  “Roy Kirby, of course!”

  Mason was completely bewildered. This woman may be beautiful, but she was completely off her rocker.

  “What the devil are you going on about, Miss Gib—er, Mrs. Kirby?”

  She was getting her balance back, and apparently her temper, too. Her face went pink with fury.

  “Don’t you call me that! I can’t believe you let him get away?!” she yelled. “What kind of lawman are you, Sheriff?That man…that villain…was the man who robbed my stagecoach yesterday.”

  “What?!”

  “I recognized a strange scar on his wrist. It was the shape of a star.”

  Blood drained from Mason’s face. He glanced back at the door, willing Kirby to walk through it, but it remained stubbornly shut.
The leader of the Lone Star Gang — as Deputy Merchant had dubbed them — was standing not two feet away from him only an hour ago. He sat there and watched the man’s wedding, for cripes sake!

  And now he had a good head start on Mason, which would stretch out to much more by the time he gathered up a posse. Once again, the man had slipped through Mason’s grasp.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Emmy watched in astonishment as the sheriff turned on his heel and bolted out the front door of the church without so much as a glance back.

  “Wait!” Emmy cried after him, but it was too late. He was gone.

  Desperate, she turned to the reverend.

  “Reverend Owen, under the circumstances, this marriage can’t possibly be considered valid, isn’t that so? Please tell me I’m not legally bound to a worthless thief.”

  Roy Kirby had tricked her into marrying him, lied about his profession and threatened to kill her. Surely no one could expect her to honor her vows to such a man.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” the old man said, causing her heart to sink. “All the papers are signed so, in the eyes of God and the state of California, you’re married.”

  Emmy paled and dropped onto the nearest pew, willing herself not to swoon again.

  “But…the marriage,” she spit out the word as if it was poison. “It was never…consummated…”

  She could barely bring herself to say the word, much less finish the sentence.

  Reverend Owen nodded and rubbed his chin, thinking. “True, true. The only thing to do is to get an annulment.”

  A faint tendril of hope took hold in Emmy’s heart. Perhaps there was a way out of this after all.

  “How do I do that?”

  “Oh, it’s just a signature on a simple legal document. Nothing to it, really. I could write it up in a jiffy.”