by Jillian Hart
Was there a chance he would ever realize that? She didn’t know. She took one look in the mirror, at the purple dress, the iris-blue sunbonnet, the pink glow on her cheeks. She looked different today. Mason had changed her. He’d broken her heart, but he’d given it new life too.
Now it was time to go home.
Mason squinted at the lawman hiking up the boardwalk in front of the undertaker’s. He cleared his throat. “You got that satchel delivered all right?”
“Yep, I gave it to Mariel.” Pauly adjusted his sling. The color was back in his face, after taking that bullet. “Don’t know why you’re letting Miss Callie leave town. Pretty gal like that, and after spending the night with her—”
“No need to comment on it,” Mason barked out, perhaps louder than he meant to. Clearly that was a touchy spot, and rightly so. All he’d done since he’d returned to town was worry about her. How she was feeling, had she changed her mind about his proposal, would she stay in town if he asked her, what if she was pregnant? He grimaced, had to look across the road hoping Pauly couldn’t guess what was troubling him.
“Well, it would be better for her reputation, what’s left of it,” Pauly commented. “But honestly, Mason, you should marry her.”
“I know.” He opened the door, stormed into the building, the strike of his boots against the floor echoing like gunfire in the solemn foyer. “She said no, and that was smart of her.”
“She said no?” Pauly moseyed in, closed the door, swept off his hat. “Well, guess I can’t blame her there.”
“That’s tough, Mason. I’m sorry.” Deeks strode into sight around a corner, leading the way down the hall he’d come from. “A man might balk at matrimony, but rejection is never good.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Clint chimed in from the back room, where he stood in front of a row of coffins, a folder of paperwork in hand. “I almost got married once, and even though it didn’t work out, it was the smartest thing I ever did.”
“Almost got married?” Pauly asked. “What happened? Did she change her mind?”
“Yep, right at the altar, but I almost got her.” Clint winked. “Maybe I’ll have better luck next time.”
Mason shook his head. He wasn’t tempted to laugh. Right now he couldn’t get past the torture of remembering Callie behind that curtain, head bowed in misery. Knowing she was hurting and realizing she didn’t want him to do anything about it ripped him apart.
“We got four new bodies here from yesterday.” Clint gestured toward the dead men, at peace in a way they never were in life, laid out in pine boxes. “There’s Lew Folsom. Headquarters is gonna be awful glad to hear he is no longer a problem. Those are two of his lead men, Dustin Hinze and Jeb Keller. Then there’s this old man. I don’t have a name on him yet. Do you recognize him?”
“He’s not on any wanted posters,” Pauly said, leaning in to study the weathered face and graying hair. “Nope, I don’t know him. How about you, Mason?”
“Let’s see.” He ambled up to the last coffin in the row and peered at the pale face, slack in death, a face he recognized. Shock hit him hard, had him reeling into the past, to the bank where this same man shot Opal in the back as easily as if he’d been closing a door.
“I know him. That’s Sam Cates, the one man who was never caught.” The words sounded strained, squeezed out of his tightening windpipe. His heart had simply crumpled. He couldn’t breathe, he felt dizzy and weak. He leaned against the wall for support. “He’s the outlaw who shot my wife.”
“Well.” Clint didn’t know what to say, just hung his head, and silence filled the room.
When Mason looked up, everyone was watching him with sympathy and pity. He couldn’t handle that, he wanted to be alone, so he reached for Clint’s folder. “I’ll take it from here. You all had a hard day yesterday. Take off early. You’ve earned it.”
“Okay, boss.” Deeks was the first to walk away, leading the others. “See ya tomorrow.”
“We’re heading over to the Lucky Seven.” Pauly stopped in the hallway, looked back over his shoulder. “Come join us. You always say no, but I had to ask.”
Mason’s throat was too tight to speak, too full of emotion, so he shook his head. No, he wouldn’t be coming. He listened to the men’s footsteps echo down the hall, heard them fade away. He didn’t move until he was completely alone.
He stared at Sam Cates, at the bullet hole in his chest, and felt something break apart inside. Grief.
Callie was right. She was right. He shook his head, not able to believe it, but he knew it was true. All this time he’d buried himself in his work, not because he was trying to make the world a better place, but because he was hiding from his pain. Not facing his loss. He told himself he couldn’t love, but last night with Callie had shown him something.
He could love, if he let himself. That was the problem. He wasn’t letting himself live or love. He turned away, paced the length of the room, angry at himself. His heart hadn’t died long ago, he’d been the one to turn it off. That’s why he didn’t have anything to give, why he’d stopped being able to love. He pushed everyone away, everyone, even the men he worked with.
Mason hung his head, blinking hard, and stopped in front of the old outlaw’s coffin again. He hadn’t realized what had been driving him, but his hunt to find justice was over. Without that, he had nothing to hold back the grief. It hit him hard.
Very hard. So did his failures.
Callie gave Mariel a hug goodbye and hurried across the platform where the train waited, spewing smoke and noise. The whistle blew over the sounds of teary goodbyes and conversations along the platform, kicking up her pulse. If she wasn’t so sad, it would be exciting to think she’d be home by supper, walking into the little shanty she’d shared with her sisters. Thinking of seeing their dear faces, she walked a little faster. As much as it hurt to leave, the prospect of being with them again sustained her. The solace of her sister’s love was exactly what she needed right now.
Part of her wanted to turn back, already missing Mason. It took strength to keep going. She climbed into the passenger car, satchel in hand, her heart heavy. The car was crowded, she spotted a free seat in the very back and headed straight for it. Her feet seemed to drag. It wasn’t easy to leave. She wanted Mason—whole and loving—with all of her soul.
Was it possible? She didn’t know. She plopped onto the seat and tucked her satchel underneath her. She dreamed of him rushing down the aisle after her, desperate to win her back, but she shook her head, knowing it would never happen. She peered out the window, searching for Mariel in the crowd, and waved to her. The woman waved back, looking regretful, as if she were sure Callie was making a mistake she would regret forever.
And maybe a part of her, down deep, felt the same. Callie bit her bottom lip, unable to deny it. But she couldn’t settle for anything but Mason’s heart. It was his heart she wanted.
Mariel had departed, so Callie looked one more time at the town where her life had changed. Clark Creek spread out in a cozy sprawl beneath the blaze of the sun, dotted with lush green trees that dappled shade across residential yards and town streets. Then something familiar caught her eye and she sat up straighter in her seat, riveted by a man all in black with his wide shoulders set, his Stetson shading his face. He stormed across the platform like a lawman on the hunt, his gait swift and commanding.
Mason. Her heart gave a thrilling tumble, then her stomach squeezed with dread. Mason was here? What did he want? What if he was going to try and talk her into a convenient, loveless marriage again? Her palms went damp, she couldn’t catch her breath. Was he going to break her heart even more by trying to make her stay?
He looked determined as he strode to a stop on the platform, tipped up his hat. His whiskered jaw was set, powerful body tensed, a man on a mission. She wasn’t prepared for this—she’d said her goodbye to him. Why wasn’t that enough?
She watched him search the windows of the cars and knew the exact moment he reco
gnized her behind the sun-streaked glass. He froze, his entire frame tensing like a man ready to fight, and she went cold inside. As he stalked closer, a tremble quaked through her. Images assaulted her, memories overtook her. She couldn’t stop them. They flashed into her mind. His touch on her skin, soft on her breasts. His hands grazing her thighs, then clutching her hips as he came. The sight of him naked and lying on his back as he drew her over him, joining them together.
Her breath quickened, she felt her heart opening to him and she could not stop it. He was her destiny—she had no doubt about that—but she was not his. He reached up to knock on the window, staring in at her.
Resigned, gathering every scrap of courage she had, she unlatched the window and shoved up the wooden frame.
“Callie.” He gripped the sill, staring in at her, eyes dark and intense. He was as formidable as a mountain, hard as granite and still so remote, a man closed to love and life.
Disappointment cinched through her, drawing her insides tight like a belt squeezing. She hadn’t realized until that moment how she’d hoped that something had changed in him. Sorrow beat at her, and she balled up her hands, struggling to keep it inside.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice strained. “The train is about to leave.”
“Don’t go.” His rock hard coolness broke away. His strong face contoured with grief. The chiseled lines and curves of his mouth compressed, crinkles dug in deep around his eyes. “I’m asking you to get off this train.”
She opened her mouth, not sure what to say. Her first reaction was a firm no, because his heart wasn’t ready. What happiness could come from trying? Surely not the kind of happiness they’d found together last night, however brief.
Down the way, the conductor bellowed, “All aboard!”
When she didn’t answer him, Mason’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Pain rippled across his features. True pain. She bowed her head, for she was hurting too.
“I already gave you my reason,” she said gently. Hurting, just hurting, she covered one of his hands with her own.
The contact jolted through her, like lightning striking. He startled, as if he felt the same and his gaze held hers, unflickering, unrelenting.
But this time it was an honest and open gaze, full of pain. Not shuttered, not shielded, but luminous with grief.
“You did reject me,” he agreed with a single nod. His mouth worked, his throat corded. What he’d come to say wouldn’t be easy for him. “And you were right. I have spent the last nine years living for a cause. I didn’t realize it until I was staring an old man in the face, one of the outlaws who were up there on that mountain with you. He’s the one who killed Opal, he’s dead, and I realized it was over. Whatever has been driving me, is gone. You did that. You changed me enough to see it. And I was hoping you might give me a second chance.”
“Oh, Mason.” Tears filled her eyes. Her hand on his began to tremble. “I keep remembering last night.”
“It’s something I will never forget.” He twined his fingers with hers, holding onto her, wishing he could haul her through the window and cradle her in his arms, never let her go. “It was—”
He didn’t have words to describe that all consuming passion, of how he’d let down his guards, let her in. He did have regrets. “The first thing I did come morning was push you out, put up my guard, keep you away. I know that it hurt you, and I’m sorry. More sorry than you will ever know.”
Remorse shadowed him, drew out every bit of light in him. He hung his head, gritting his teeth, angry at himself. Had it cost him his chance with her?
“Yes, that’s exactly what you did. I watched you do it.” She smiled through her tears, so beautiful. Compassionate violet eyes, that cute slope of a nose, her rosebud lips. The breeze caressed the fringe of her bangs and the little wisps that had come loose from her braid. It was hard to believe such a sweet thing had driven him so crazy last night.
“I would go back in time and undo it if I could. If I had the chance to do it over, I wouldn’t push you away. I’d show you exactly how much you mean to me.” His confession rocked him, coming straight from his very core, from his soul. “I want you in my bed every night for the rest of my life. I want to wake up to you every day. I want your love to be my future. I love you Callie, more than I ever thought possible. I never expected to feel this way again, you’ve brought me back to life, and I can’t let you go. Please stay.”
“I wish I could.” Tears shone in her eyes, pooled like liquid silver, wavering, trying not to fall. Pain radiated there, pain he’d given her. That killed him. Absolutely beyond all doubt slayed him to the core.
“But you haven’t grieved, Mason.” She paused while the train gave a shrill series of deafening whistles. One tear brimmed, catching in her lower eyelash, shimmering there, like a lost dream. “You have to give yourself time to do that.”
“I don’t need time.” He was in the middle of grief, it was here, it was now, feeling the passenger car vibrate with the force of the locomotive building up steam and know she was leaving him forever. “I need you. If you go, then it’s you I’ll be grieving. Don’t do that to me. Stay, and I’ll give you my heart. I’ll love you the way you deserve. Don’t leave me. I’m begging you.”
“Oh, Mason.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as the train inched away, tearing them apart.
“I love you, I’ll love you forever,” he said, not knowing if she could hear him over the sound of the engine. Then she was gone, the passenger cars crept by him, and he was alone on the platform.
Losing her was too great of a sorrow to bear. He took a few steps back, all he could manage with his knees threatening to give out. Pain scored him like a dozen whips lashing him from the inside. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. All he could do was to stand fighting the waves of pain, of grief. He’d given Callie his heart last night up on that mountain, and now he’d lost her forever. How was he going to go on without her?
“Mason!” Her voice—Callie’s—lifted on the wind.
His head whipped up and he blinked. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She stood on the last car’s little walkway, clutching the caboose’s railing in one hand, her satchel in the other. The conductor standing in the doorway behind her was shouting at her to come inside.
Tears streamed down her face, but it was the hope in her smile, in the shine of her eyes that had him running for her at full speed. Joy beat through him, growing brighter and stronger with each step. When he reached out for her, she jumped into his arms. Her satchel landed with a thud on the platform and she wrapped herself around him, laughing and happy, tears wet on her face.
“I’m going to love you forever too,” she said, that love written on her face, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She tipped her head back, as if needing to drink in the sight of him. “So, I changed my mind about your proposal. Mariel suggested that I should, and I’m going to take her excellent advice. Yes, I’ll marry you, Mason Greer.”
“Just the answer I was hoping for.” He eased her down slowly, along the length of his body, her softness against his hardness. That made his blood heat. “Because I want to marry you—really marry you. I intend to make you the happiest, best loved bride in all of Montana Territory.”
“I like the sound of that.” Her smile turned enchanting. “After last night, I have a few ideas on how you might go about making me happy.”
“Well, I’d see it as a sworn duty.” Laughing, he leaned in, kissed her smile, and they melded together, body and soul. In the distance, the train whistled again, behind them at the edge of the platform the ticket window closed with a thud, and the sounds of town faded away until there was only their kiss, only their love. Their love that would last forever.
Epilogue
Three weeks later
“Do you think this marriage is a good idea?” Emma Carpenter asked from the upstairs bedroom in Mariel’s boardinghouse. Temperate mid-day breezes swept through the open window, sending the lace cur
tains dancing and ruffling the hem of the new butter colored dress Callie wore for her wedding.
“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?” Callie asked, amused, as she slipped one more hairpin into the elaborate knot of hair Abby had fixed for her. She eyed her reflection in the mirror, pink cheeks, sparkling eyes, wide smile. Yep, she looked like a woman ready to marry the man of her dreams. Not to mention, she was really looking forward to the wedding night. Mason had hinted that he had great plans. Just the kind of thing a girl could look forward to.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t she want to marry a man that makes her grin like that?” Abby gestured at the mirror, toward Callie’s beaming grin. “I wouldn’t mind finding me a man that made me that satisfied.”
“I highly recommend it,” Callie teased, turning to face her sisters scattered around the room. Emma stood by the wardrobe, as if she were hoping Callie might change her mind and would therefore be in need of a different dress. Abby leaned one elbow on the top of the bureau, bubbling with excitement. Maggie slouched in the rocking chair by the window, leaning forward with interest in case the conversation suddenly turned to sex. And Dee sprawled out on the bed, chin propped in both hands.
“And just what would you recommend?” Maggie asked, desperately wanting to know. “Surely not just a nice man to marry, but good sex too?”
“Sounds like a good combination to me.” Abby waggled her brows. “Callie, I noticed you sneaking back into the room last night, or should I say early this morning?”
“It was in the wee hours,” Maggie agreed.
“Gee, I wonder where she was?” Dee asked not so innocently. “I think Emma is scandalized.”
“Scandalized, horrified, embarrassed to think my own sister is acting in such a way.” Emma had turned bright red, and pulled herself up to her full height, her back painfully straight. “But your reputation aside, Callie, I’m not sure you should marry a man who has such an influence on you.”
