by Cassie Hayes
Relief washed over her. “Oh, wonderful! So I sign this paper and take it to a judge or something?”
“Oh. I’m afraid…I’m afraid I may have overstated the simplicity, now that I think on it. Both parties must sign it. You could take it to the court on your own, but he must sign it or you’ll have to petition the court, which could take months.”
Once more the room tilted out from under her, but she fought the feeling and regained her composure after a few deep breaths. She’d never been so angry in her life. How on earth was she supposed to get annulment papers signed by a certified fugitive of the law?
“You could file for divorce,” said Mrs. Owen, but she clamped her lips shut at the dark look her husband gave her.
“You know how we feel about divorce, mother. No, I’m afraid annulment is your best option, my dear, or else you might be tainted with an unsavory reputation.”
Emmy was stunned and could do little more than think about her next move. As much as it grieved her to think people would judge her for seeking a divorce under the circumstances, the reverend was probably right. Besides, this situation was a fraud from the beginning and she didn’t want to give it any hint of credibility.
The last thing she wanted to be was Roy Kirby’s former wife — or widow, once Sheriff Wilder caught up with him. She wanted no connection to him whatsoever, and there was only one way to ensure she got her way.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mason was strapping a bedroll to his horse’s saddle when Emmy came marching up to him outside the Sheriff’s Office, where he and three deputies were getting ready to set out in search of Roy Kirby and his ring of thieves. Now that he knew who he was looking for, he wasn’t going to stop until he brought them down.
A flash of white caught the corner of his eye and he couldn’t help grinning at the sight of the pretty little filly stomping up the street in her wedding dress. His deputies stopped what they were doing and gawked, too.
“Sheriff Wilder, you must take me with you,” she demanded.
He was torn between amusement and irritation at her don’t-take-no-for-an-answer attitude. Didn’t she understand that she was asking to join a manhunt for a stone-cold killer?
“Mrs. Kirby—“
She cut him off with an imperious wave of her hand. “Don’t call me that. Miss Gibson will do nicely, thank you. Now when do we leave?”
A bray of shocked laughter burst out of him. This woman certainly had some nerve.
“We—“ he pointed to his deputies and himself “—are heading out straightaway. You are staying right here.”
Her ringlets bounced as she shook her head furiously. “No, I’m afraid that’s not at all acceptable, Sheriff. I must insist on joining you, as distasteful as that may be to both of us.”
Now his deputies were chuckling under their breath, not wanting the wrath of this vixen raining down on their heads. She glared at them just the same, which shut them up right quick.
“Mrs…Miss Gibson, are you touched in the head? Did your brain jiggle loose when you fainted in the church? We’re on the hunt for a murderer, here, not out for some day ride.”
“A murderer?” she gasped, taking a startled step back. “I thought…well, now it’s more important than ever that I go with you.”
Mason rolled his eyes and turned back to packing his horse. It was still early and Kirby had been caught unawares. They might get lucky and chance onto his trail before it got too cold.
“You ain’t coming, and that’s that.”
The silence behind him was unsettling and it was all he could do not to turn around to see if she was still there — or maybe had pulled a knife on him or something. Then he heard a sniffle and had no choice but to turn to her.
“Aw, hang it all, what’re you bawlin’ for?”
There was nothing that made a man more wretchedly uncomfortable than a crying woman, and here was the prettiest one he’d ever laid eyes on weeping openly. Her big blue eyes were looking up at him and tears plopped right out of them onto her pale pink cheeks. She batted them away with the longest eyelashes God had ever seen fit to attach to a human.
“Please, Sheriff. You have to understand. I have no more money for the hotel and I don’t know anyone else in town. I was hornswaggled into marrying a…a murderer, and I must get the marriage annulled if I want to protect my reputation. And quite honestly, Sheriff, that’s all I have left. I have no family, no friends and no money. If I can at least maintain my good name, perhaps opportunities will present themselves. Regardless of what you may think of me, I can’t be the wife of a murderer. I can’t.”
Her voice cracked and faltered on her final words, and she broke down into great heaving sobs. Before he knew it was happening, Mason found himself gathering her up in his arms and pressing her face to his chest, smoothing her hair. His deputies stared in amazement at their leader but all he could do was shrug at them.
Emmy sniffed and pulled back, her hands on his chest and her shimmering eyes gazing up at him. Her vulnerability was intoxicating. It’d been far too long since a woman had looked at him that way, like he was her hero. He hated to admit that he missed it.
“So you’ll take me with you?” she whispered, her gaze pleading.
Part of him wanted to say yes, to never let her out of his sight again. But then he saw something other than tears shimmering in her eyes. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it sent a cold shiver of suspicion down his spine.
Gently pushing her away from him, he tipped his hat and said, “I’m sorry, miss, but the answer is no.”
His suspicions were confirmed when Emmy’s tears dried up and her pleading gaze turned to daggers of hate.
“No!” she yelled, stomping her foot like a four-year-old who didn’t get her way. “How am I supposed to get this paper signed? You take it and make him sign it before arresting him!”
Mason wasn’t about to take on the burden of carrying around her annulment papers, and he certainly wasn’t going to make it a priority to get Kirby to sign before arresting — or, more likely, killing — him.
“Well, miss, quite frankly, you’re just gonna have to wait till we bring ol’ Roy in. ‘Course a man like that, it’s a toss up whether he makes it back here alive. “
“And where do you suggest I stay until you return?”
She crossed her arms tightly and huffed at him. Boy, did she know exactly how to irk him! Luckily, he had a feeling he knew how to irk her right back.
“You’re more than welcome to sleep in one of our empty cells until such a time as it’s occupied by a proper tenant. Hopefully one that shares your new last name.”
He wasn’t proud of his little jab, but it shut her up and let him mount his horse in peace. Rallying his deputies behind him, he halted his horse abreast of Emmy, who was scowling at something off in the distance.
“Good luck to you, Miss Gibson,” he said, and then rode off in search of her new husband.
~ * ~ * ~
Emmy didn’t so much as glance at the sheriff as he rode out of town, but instead stared blindly toward the end of the street. She was in a fine pickle now and no one would help her out of it.
She was reminded of her final days in New York, when she’d lost all hope and had almost resigned herself to a miserable fate. When she found a copy of The Nuptial News, it was like she’d been drowning and God threw her a life preserver ring. Only it turned out the life preserver was made of lead, and now it was dragging her down even deeper.
She’d never had to take care of herself before — her father and many would-be suitors had provided all she’d ever wanted her entire life — and her first attempt at taking the reins had failed miserably. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for it. Perhaps she should have stayed in New York. At least she wouldn’t have had to fend for herself then, she wouldn’t have to make decisions. She would have been fully provided for, of that she had no doubt.
But the price had been too great.
And now, here she stood in the middle
of the street, with nowhere to go and no one to help her. If anything was to be done, she’d have to do it. Only, she didn’t know what to do.
Her eyes slowly focused on what she’d been blankly staring at, and the answer was right before her.
CHAPTER NINE
“Jake, why don’t you go patrol around while we make camp,” Mason told one of his men. It had been a long, frustrating day, but Mason had hope they were finally on the right trail.
“You got it, Sheriff,” said the eager young man, grabbing his rifle and quietly disappearing into the gathering gloom of night.
Each man had a job — Jake was off on patrol, David prepared the brace of rabbits he’d popped off earlier in the day, Fred collected firewood and Mason tended to the horses. In a few minutes, dinner was roasting over a tidy little fire, the bedrolls were laid out and coffee was being poured all around.
“I’ll wait till Jake gets back before pouring his,” David said. “You know how cranky that pansy gets when his coffee is cold.” David and Jake prodded each other something fierce but they were truly the best of friends. Fred often joked that they should take their show up to the camps, insisting that their constant ribbing was so funny that they’d come home with big bags of gold. Mason was relieved when they ignored Fred — they were two of his best deputies and he’d hate to lose them.
The next few minutes were spent in reverie, mulling over the progress they’d made — or, more accurately, not made. Their first stop had been Kirby’s place out in Rough and Ready, but they hadn’t found anything in the way of clues with the exception of a stagecoach schedule, which could be explained by the impending arrival of his bride. No loot, no guns, nothing.
But during their search, Mason had stumbled across Emmy’s letters. There were only three, the first being a simple response to Kirby’s ad. The second was long and flowery and full of sentiment and sad stories. The last was short and sweet, accepting Kirby’s proposal of marriage and detailing her itinerary west.
The woman was in a right awful hurry to get hitched, that much was obvious, and Mason couldn’t help wondering why. Her letter hinted to her father’s death and subsequent poverty, but little else. A beauty like her should have no shortage of suitors back in New York willing to take her on, as challenging as she might be.
Guilt tugged at his gut for not taking her paper with him. Would it have been so bad to at least try to help her? California was a rough enough place without having the specter of a cursed marriage to a murderer hanging over your head. Of course, even if he caught Kirby alive, the scoundrel would never sign the paper anyway. A man like him would try to use it to his own advantage somehow.
Besides, little miss back there had made her own bed. She was probably used to people — men, especially — helping her out of fixes of her own doing. Now it was time for her to learn some hard lessons, not the least of which was the consequences to one’s actions. A tarnished reputation wasn’t the worst thing in the world to recover from, and maybe it would teach her to think before she acted, and that she wasn’t going to get her way any old time she wanted.
“You suppose that old man was right, Mace?” Fred asked, breaking Mason’s train of thought.
He thought about it a moment and finally nodded. “He seemed honest enough. Besides, if he lied about which direction he saw Kirby traveling, he’s in for a whole passel of trouble with me. He might be worried about snitching on Kirby, but I know where that old guy lives and he weren’t no dummy.”
They all chuckled and nodded. Mason’s size always ‘encouraged’ many eyewitnesses to tell the truth, though he didn’t purposely try to intimidate anyone. Deep down, he was a peaceful sort of man, preferring talk to fighting. It was a shame not everyone believed the same.
“Dang, where is that good-for-nothin’ Jake?,” said David. “S’pose the lunkhead fell in? He better hurry up or this rabbit will be burned to a crisp.”
Suddenly Mason was acutely aware that his deputy hadn’t returned. A patrol around a campsite like this shouldn’t have taken longer than getting camp set up, or at least the coffee brewed. Either he’d run into something — Mason hoped it wasn’t trouble — or he was off having a ‘necessary’ break. If that was the case, he’d just earned himself a good chewing out. But Mason didn’t think that’s what was going on. Jake knew enough to check in first before taking care of personal business.
A rustle in the trees drew their attention and the muffled sound of a struggle got them to their feet. Mason didn’t have to look around to know both deputies had their pistols drawn and ready, just as he did. Could be that Kirby found them first or it could be a California lion looking for its own supper.
“Let go of me, you brute,” someone shrieked in the darkness. Then Jake burst through the underbrush with a bundle of wriggling white fabric in his arms. He shoved the bundle on the ground and swiped a forearm across his sweaty brow. Red scratches on his cheek were already starting to puff up.
“Found her about a quarter-mile back, Sheriff,” he explained as he tried to catch his breath. “That one’s so mad she could swallow a horn-toad backwards, let me tell ya!”
Mason watched in awe as delicate pale arms and legs flailed around, trying to extricate their owner from the pile of white silk. Finally a mop of blond hair popped free and he was staring straight into the bright blue eyes of a she-devil.
“You!” he roared at her, fury coloring his world red. “What in tarnation is this?!”
Normally when he shouted at someone like that, the recipient was wise enough to cower, at least a little. Not so with Emmy Gibson. She raised her chin up at him defiantly, as if he didn’t scare her one tiny bit.
“Yes, it’s me. Very observant, Sheriff Wilder. Now if one of you fine gentlemen would be so kind as to help me up…”
All three of his deputies moved to help her — including Jake, of all people.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Not one muscle, any of you. If Mrs. Kirby is man enough to ride out after a murderer, she’s man enough to stand up on her own.”
“Don’t you dare call me that. That hound is not my husband!”
Mason shrugged his indifference, but the black look on his face told the deputies he wasn’t kidding about helping her. She struggled to free herself from the tangle of her wedding dress, but finally managed to gain her feet, which she used to stalk over to him.
“Your man there was quite rough with me, Sheriff,” she said, pointing at Jake. “I really think you should have a talk with him.”
Mason couldn’t believe his ears. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or shout. “Lady, you really are a piece of work. I should drag you back to Nevada City right now and throw you in a cell. With the door closed, this time!”
She gave him a shrewd look. “But then you’d lose Roy’s trail altogether, and you wouldn’t want to do that. Furthermore, you can’t spare a single one of your deputies to escort me back to town because his troupe or gang or whatever you call it has four other men in it. You’re already outnumbered, if they’re all with him. No, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
Mason’s head threatened to pop right off his shoulders. She was right, of course. He couldn’t spare the time or the manpower to make sure she got safely back to Nevada City. And he certainly couldn’t leave her to fend for herself out in the wild. A city girl like her would get lost and freeze or starve to death.
She could get lucky and stumble across a local Nisenan Indian camp — they were a kind and peaceful lot — but what if some rough trappers or prospectors found her first? That would be a fate worse than freezing to death. What kind of sheriff — scratch that, what kind of man would he be to let that happen?
No, as much as it grieved him to admit it, Emmy had him over a barrel. He wouldn’t have her death on his hands, as much as he disliked her. He had to allow her to join their party — but he didn’t have to make it easy on her.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “You can tag along but you fall behind and you’re on your own. Y
ou want food, you go find it yourself. Not a single man here is gonna give up their bedroll, so I hope your brought more with you than that silly wedding dress. It gets mighty cold out here at night.”
He gave each deputy a stern look to drive his point home. No helping the city girl. If she wanted to come with them, she was going to have to pull her own weight.
Then he settled down in front of the fire and yanked a rabbit from the spit. Anger had killed his hunger but he’d be darned if that silly woman was going to eat any of his food.
~ * ~ * ~
Emmy’s mouth watered as Mason slurped greedily at his dinner. She’d barely nibbled anything that morning at breakfast because she was too worked up about her impending nuptials, and everything had happened so fast after that she hadn’t even thought about food. But now she was painfully aware that her stomach was empty.
The deputies were avoiding looking at her as they took their spots around the campfire and guiltily picked at their food. Her stomach protested loudly, which brought a chuckle from the arrogant sheriff. How rude!
She huffed her displeasure and tromped back through the woods to find her horse. Luckily, she hadn’t yet tied him up when the young deputy grabbed her, and the beautiful beast had followed them most of the way to the posse’s camp.
As she’d stood in the middle of Broad Street, watching the sheriff ride away, she’d found herself staring into the distance. When her eyes had focused, they landed on a sign that read ‘HORSES 4 LET’. That was the moment she decided to once again take her fate into her own hands.
She’d felt a fool running into the stable in her wedding dress, but she didn’t want to let the posse get too far ahead of her by returning to the church to change. Besides her other dresses were no more comfortable than the one she was wearing. On top of that, it took the stablehand off-guard seeing a bride rush into his establishment, which gave her the upper hand in negotiations.
Putting on the most pitiful face she could muster, she hurried up to the young man, breathless. “Oh, sir, thank goodness I found you!”
