DESTINY'S EMBRACE

by Suzanne Elizabeth

  He threw his blankets aside and pulled on his pants. He'd told his men to meet him at his office at nine for the trip to Fairhaven, but first he intended to have a few private words with Lacey.

  He was on his horse before the sun had crested the top of the snow-covered mountains. Five minutes later he was knocking on the Martins’ front door.

  Hazel answered, still in her robe. "Matthew? What the devil are you doing here this early in the morn—”

  "I need to talk to Lacey."

  “Lacey? She's not awake yet.”

  “Excuse me.” He barged past her in a beeline for Lacey's bedroom.

  "Now, hold on, young man!” Hazel sputtered. “You can't just go bargin’ in—"

  Matthew stepped into Lacey's room. He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it in case Hazel decided to be persistent. Lacey was still in bed, but not asleep. She was sitting up against her pillows with her hair fanned out like copper fire around her shoulders.

  His breath caught at the sight of her and he respectfully took off his hat.

  She looked startled to see him, and then a cool expression settled over her face. “Good morning.”

  He nodded back, not trusting his own voice.

  "I didn't expect you so early.”

  “I didn't expect you to leave my bed in the middle of the night,” he rasped.

  She had the grace to flush a little. “We have a busy day planned and I thought it best to get some sleep.”

  What was wrong with her? She seemed a million miles away.

  "Lacey, I came by to…to…” To what, genius? To berate her for leavin’ your bed before you'd given her permission? Just tell her you were dyin’ to see her again before one more second passed! "Are you all right?" he blurted out. "I mean…I thought I'd stop by and…well, and make sure…”

  "I'm fine." She gave him a faint smile.

  He wasn’t. It felt like a dull knife was plunging into his heart.

  They stared at each other for a moment, her cold and distant, him unable to tear his eyes away from her beautiful face.

  And then he realized what it was about her that seemed so different: She'd lost her edge, that acidic side of her that generally left him stinging from head to toe. The bitterness was gone from her eyes and only a sad kind of loneliness remained. He wanted to reach out and kiss that loneliness away—he’d never wanted to hold a woman so badly in his life. But if she’d wanted that, she wouldn’t have left him last night.

  “I’ll, uh, head into town and round up the boys, then. We'll be back for you in about an hour.”

  "I'll be ready to go.”

  He put on his hat and turned for the door, his insides feeling like they'd been chewed up and spit out.

  “Matthew?”

  He turned back so fast his hat nearly fell off. "Yes?"

  "We'll find that money," she said. "You can bet on it.”

  "Right," he agreed.

  "And then we can both get back to our lives," she added.

  He nodded slowly. "I suppose you'll be leaving?”

  "I'll come back and say good-bye to George and Hazel. Then…” She left the sentence hanging, but they both knew what she meant.

  He nodded again.

  "Aren't you going to ask where I'll be heading?”

  He held her stare for a moment, waiting for his heart to finish breaking in two. “That’s none of my business.” He tugged his hat brim and headed straight for the front door.

  He heard Hazel call to him from the drawing room. He ignored her. He was too beat up inside for a chat.

  He left the house, heading across the porch and down the steps to his waiting horse.

  Hazel followed him outside. “Matthew?! What the dickens is goin' on between you two?"

  He swung up into his saddle and looked at her with his heart in his eyes. "Not a thing,” he said.

  It wasn’t a lie. He'd fallen in love with a woman who didn't love him back. And nothing felt worse than that in the whole wide world.

  Lacey didn't want to get out of bed. Her eyes had to be the size of blowholes after all the crying she'd done. Then Matthew had put her on the verge of tears again, by barging into her room, looking more handsome than ever.

  She knew why he'd come, to make sure it was clear that there were no strings attached between them. She’d told him what he needed to hear—that she was fine—and now she had to convince herself it was true.

  A soft knock came at her door and Hazel slipped into the room. "Are you all right, honey? Matthew just lit outta here like a bat from hell.”

  "He's anxious to round up his deputies. We're leaving for Fairhaven in a couple of hours."

  The woman scrutinized her. "Ya don't look to me like you're up to the trip."

  "It doesn't matter," Lacey said. She swung around to sit on the edge of the bed. "I have to get that money back."

  "That money's been awful important to you since ya came to town," Hazel said. "Don't suppose you'd care to tell me why, exactly?”

  "My future depends on getting it back.”

  "Your future," the woman repeated.

  "That's all I can say."

  The woman sat down on the bed beside her. Her chin quivered.“I know ya plan to leave as soon as that cash is recovered, honey. But I want ya to know—George and I want ya to know—that you will always have a place at our table.” She cupped Lacey’s cheek. “There will always be a bed waitin’ here for ya, Lacey."

  Lacey’s eyes flooded with tears. "Thank you, Hazel.”

  “I’m gonna miss ya,” the woman cried.

  They fell into each other’s arms and sobbed like babies.

  “You mean the world ta us.”

  “You mean the world to me,” Lacey cried back.

  Finally, they pulled away from each other and dashed at their tears.

  “Now.” Hazel sniffed. "Matthew's comin' back for ya in an hour, and I know ya don't want him seein' you all swollen up and pink from cryin’.” She stood from the bed and wiped her face with the bottom of her apron. “So, get up and throw some cold water on that pretty face. George and I are headin' in to the restaurant, but I'll be back by three, just in case you get home from Fairhaven early." She smiled at Lacey through her tears. "Good luck, honey. And be safe.”

  Lacey nodded. She was no longer capable of speech. Her throat had closed up so tightly it ached. She could only offer Hazel a teary smile as the woman left the room.

  She sat on the bed, trying to pull herself together. She heard wagon harnesses rattling in the front yard and knew George and Hazel were leaving for town. She’d found a life here that she didn’t deserve, but she couldn’t let her breaking heart get in the way of what she still had to do.

  She climbed out of bed and got dressed, determined to hold it together for the rest of the day. There’d be plenty of chances to cry over her loses on the way to California.

  She spotted the strap of her purse under the bed and crouched down to pull out the bag. She’d been holding onto it like a life-line, unable to give up her last connection to the twenty-first century, but it belonged to a woman who no longer existed.

  She heard a sound in the entryway and assumed Hazel had come back for something she’d forgotten. She opened her door to greet the woman, and froze.

  It seemed Ned and Henry Rawlins had broken out of jail.

  Chapter 19

  The very last thing Matthew expected or needed to hear was that the Rawlins brothers had broken out of jail.

  His three deputies were waiting outside his office for him when he rode up. They reluctantly informed him of the situation. Bill looked a little dopier than usual; he’d been on duty the night before and been clubbed over the head during the great escape.

  Reginald Sterling and the town council—minus George Martin—were waiting for Matthew inside the marshal’s office, no doubt to fire him. Matthew was starting to think he should have stayed in California. Drifting wasn't such a bad profession, respectable or not.

&n
bsp; Sterling rose from his chair when Matthew walked in. He opened his mouth to speak, but Matthew cut him off. "Save it, Sterling. If you want me to catch ‘em, I don't have time to waste with your bellyachin’.”

  "What I want," the man replied, "is your badge, Brady."

  An odd request considering Matthew never wore one.

  "You are an affront to this office.” he went on. “And, as mayor of this town, I demand that you resign immediately."

  "What about the rest of you?" Matthew looked around at Zappy Karls, James Kellogg, Willy Black, and Robert Chandler.

  "This looks purty bad, Matthew," Willy Black pointed out.

  "We been waitin' damn near a week for you to get that money back," James Kellogg added.

  Sterling smirked. ”But you've been far too busy courting damsels, haven't you, Mr. Brady?"

  Matthew’d had it with Reginald Sterling. He strode toward the town mayor and shoved him back against the wall. "You want my resignation, you son of a bitch? You got it,” he stated, enunciating his words with sharp jabs to Sterling's chest. "But not before I finish the job I started and bring in every member of that Rawlins family. The town will have its money back. Then you can take this job and shove it up your lily-white ass. Now get the hell out of my office before I lose my temper!”

  Everyone except his deputies went scampering from the jailhouse. "You don't mean it, do ya?" Larry asked.

  "You're not quittin', are ya?" Gene joined in.

  Bill was still looking dopey.

  "I prefer to think of it as movin’ on," Matthew said. "A man can only stay in one place for so long before he gets bored. Saddle up, boys."

  His deputies filed out just as George Martin was coming in. “Willy Black told me about the impromptu council meetin’. Matthew, you're not really resignin’, are ya?”

  Matthew turned for the gun rack. "George, I've had it. I'm not the respectable type. No matter how hard I try, I just can't squeeze into the mold."

  "What the blazes are you talkin’ about?"

  "I know how much my father hated the way I lived. That I went from job to job—"

  "Now hold on just one damn minute. I don't know who you're talkin' about, but the man I knew was proud of his son. He used to tell folks all the time how Matthew had herded cattle from Montana to El Paso. How Matthew had ridden shotgun on a stage for Wells Fargo. How Matthew was workin’ for San Francisco’s Queen Anne Hotel. Hell, every time somebody would bring up a job, the man would go off like a lit fuse talkin' about how Matthew had done that. Plenty of times we damn near shot him just to shut him up. And, yeah, I suppose an argument can be made for a father not appreciatin' his son having the roots of a tumbleweed," George continued. "But the thing was, boy, you did those odd jobs so damn well he couldn't be anything but proud. It wasn't laziness, or lack of ambition that always drove you on to the next town. It was that you'd done the job, and done the job well, and you were ready for the next challenge."

  "Then why the deathbed speech about getting married and settlin’ down?"

  "He was proud of ya, Matthew, don't you ever question that. He just hated to see you never know the challenge of lovin' a good woman, of raisin' up a passel of kids as admirable and remarkable as yourself. Of buildin' a place you could call home."

  Matthew shook his head. "You don't know how much I've struggled with this."

  "Yes, I do. But the most important thing to remember about your father is how much he loved you, Matthew, how important to him your happiness was. Hell, if this job makes you unhappy, I'll be the first to shake your hand and send you on your way. But don't quit because of Reginald Sterling. This town made Sterling mayor because he owns the bank, not because of any fondness on our parts. You’re our Marshal because this town loves you, Matthew. You’re one of us.”

  Matthew sniffed, refusing to get emotional. There was more to this than just Reginald Sterling, though. He grabbed a couple boxes of shotgun and rifle shells and shoved them into his saddlebags. “Those are nice sentiments, George, but it’s just time to move on.”

  George watched him carefully. “How’d your evenin’ go with Lacey?”

  “Just peachy.” He slung a Winchester over his shoulder.

  “Could have fooled me.” George gave him a speculative look. "You got the look of a wounded bear."

  Matthew turned away and grabbed up the shotgun, not interested in filling George in on all the gory details. He was a victim of the heart, wasn't that what they called it? A victim of his own treacherous heart.

  Matthew headed for the door. “Talk to Zappy about buyin’ the house."

  George followed him outside. “Don't you think you're jumpin' the gun just a bit, son?”

  “Zappy was more than happy to buy my father's store," Matthew continued. He paused beside his horse and slipped the Winchester into the left saddle scabbard. “Maybe he'd like a place to live besides a back room."

  "I'm sure once you get the money back your head’s gonna clear.”

  Matthew slung his saddlebags over his horse's back and tied them down. "Just talk to him, George."

  "All right, all right. If you promise me you'll give this decision some serious thought while you’re gone.”

  Matthew swung up into his saddle. He couldn’t tell George that there was more to this than a jailbreak, or even Reginald Sterling's constant interference. He just couldn’t stand the idea of hanging around Tranquility once Lacey was gone.

  "Promise?" George persisted.

  Matthew nodded. “Sure.” He’d be breaking that promise.

  “You take good care of Lacey today, son.”

  Matthew gave the man a direct look. “You can count on that.”

  “If shootin' commences, you tell that girl to keep her pretty little head down.”

  Matthew tugged the front of his hat low over his eyes. “If I have to sit on her to do it."

  He rode out of town with his three deputies following close behind, kicking up dirty snow and mud behind them. It was time for him to face Lacey again. This time, he vowed, he wouldn't be wearing his heart on his sleeve.

  Fifteen minutes later Matthew and his posse road into the Martins' front yard. His men waited outside while he climbed the porch steps and knocked on the wooden door. He was nervous as hell to see her again, and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

  No one answered his knock, so he knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer.

  He pushed open the door and poked his head inside. “Lacey?” he called. “You ready?"

  The house was too quiet and a tiny chill crept its way up Matthew’s spine. He walked inside and stole a glance into the empty drawing room. He headed for Lacey's room. The door was standing open. The room was empty.

  "Lacey?" he shouted.

  No answer.

  Hoping she’d heard them ride up and gone out to saddle Big Red, he walked out the back door for the barn. A broken pot on the back stoop caught his attention. It was unlike Hazel to leave something like that scattered by the door. A chill crawled up the back of his neck.

  He eased his gun out of his holster and turned his attention to the barn. "Lacey?" he called. "If you're in the barn, come out here where I can see you."

  The loft door rattled in the breeze. Other than that, nothing moved.

  His three deputies came riding around the side of the house toward him. "Somethin’ up, boss?" Larry asked.

  "Bill, you and Gene head around the back of the barn. Watch the windows."

  Without a question, the two men rode off to do as they were ordered.

  "Where's Miss Guarder?" Larry asked.

  "Hopefully," Matthew said, beginning to move cautiously toward the barn, "in there."

  He pulled open the barn door and found it empty. Lacey wasn’t there. Neither was Big Red.

  "Did she leave without us?" Larry asked.

  Gene and Bill joined them. “No sign of her out back,” Gene said.

  “She wouldn’t leave without me,” Matthew replied. It had been too
important to her that they do this thing together.

  "It's the Rawlins brothers, isn't it?" Bill asked.

  "They got her,” Gene agreed.

  Hearing his suspicions spoken out loud sent a storm of fear and rage sweeping through Matthew. He holstered his gun, and hurried back to his horse. If the Rawlins brothers pulled one coppery strand of hair from Lacey’s head…he'd tear them apart with his bare hands.

  Lacey's hands were numb from the cold and the tight rope binding them together. She'd been kidnapped, and was now at the mercy of two unpredictable men who were good and pissed at her.

  They knew she'd tricked them into telling her how to find their sister; they'd taken great joy in telling her that as they'd thrown her into Big Red's saddle and tied her hands to the pommel. Just as they’d taken great joy in telling her, in explicit detail, exactly what they intended to do to her once they reached Fairhaven and the hotel where their sister was hiding out.

  Lacey needed to escape, but they were moving at break-neck speed and it was taking all of her concentration to simply stay in Big Red’s saddle. They raced passed the fork in the road that had caused her so much trouble two days before, and then maneuvered down a steep incline shaded by stout evergreens and slick with snow and ice. She’d heard the men say they’d reach Fairhaven in less than an hour.

  She’d managed to bring it along with her. It was looped over her neck and under her arm, sadly out of reach of her bound hands, but tucked inside was the only useful thing she'd brought with her to the nineteenth century: a small canister of pepper spray.

  "I still don't see how we're gonna keep that marshal from followin' us," she heard Ned say. He was the one holding Big Red's reins, towing Lacey along behind them. "Look at all the tracks we're makin'."

  "Don't worry about it," Henry answered. "We'll be on a ship for Mexico by nightfall. He'll never find us, or that money."

  "Our friend is not gonna like it. He’s bound to bust his frilly collar."

  Henry chuckled. "He should have known better than to lord it over a Rawlins. As far as I'm concerned, the money's ours. We earned every penny. Ain't that right, Miss sweet thing?"