The Irish Westerns Boxed Set

by C. H. Admirand

  The marshal stopped pacing and waited for the truth to sink in. “Not his life, Smythe—yours.”

  Before Pearl could gasp in outrage, Davidson had the marshal by the throat and had thrown the first punch. The marshal rocked back against the sideboard, scattering cutlery across the floor.

  “You sonofabitch!”

  Pearl did the only thing she could think of to stop the two behemoths from destroying her kitchen. She grabbed the pistol from the drawer and cocked the weapon.

  The immediate silence that followed proved that men were not deaf when fighting—just dumb.

  “Stop it now,” she snarled, leveling the gun at the marshal. “Ease yourself away from Davidson, Marshal.”

  Justiss hesitated, eyeing first her, then the gun in her hands. “You do know it is against the law to draw a weapon on a lawman, don’t you?”

  She laughed. “As Davidson will testify before a judge, I was protecting us from an out-of-control ruffian who burst into my kitchen without an invitation.”

  “That’s a lie.” The marshal clamped his jaw shut.

  “Maybe so,” she admitted. “But if you don’t back off,” she warned before turning to point the gun at Davidson, “and if you don’t sit back down, I’ll shoot you both!”

  “Put the damned gun away, Pearl.”

  “You planning on backing down, Marshal?”

  He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Will you please put the gun down?”

  Pearl took her finger off the trigger and put the gun back in the drawer. “Fine. Now you two better sit down and discuss this rationally. From Davidson’s reaction, I’m certain his brother would not have been capable of hurting him.”

  “Did Lincoln tell you I was behind my brother’s death?”

  Pearl’s heart ached. Davidson had suffered so much already. He’d lost his brother, and for all intents and purposes, his inheritance. Until he tracked down the lawyer in Denver, the money he’d paid in good faith for her land was as good as gone.

  The marshal nodded.

  “And you believed him?”

  “I didn’t say that, Smythe.” Justiss’s hands were resting on his gun belt, and it made Pearl very uneasy.

  “Why did you ride all the way out here then?” Davidson demanded.

  Pearl moved to stand beside her man in silent show of support.

  Marshal Justiss raked his hand through his hair again, and Pearl knew he was upset about something. “What is it, Ben?”

  His gaze met hers. “Ever hear of Thaddeus Baker?”

  A shiver of dread raced up from the pit of her stomach. “Yes,” she rasped.

  “Who’s he?” Smythe demanded.

  Lord love the man, Davidson had no idea what kind of trouble the people of Emerson would be in with Baker loose in their small town.

  “He’s a gunslinger.”

  Davidson pulled Pearl close, as if by keeping her there, he’d be able to protect her. “Isn’t that someone who kills for money?”

  Marshal Justiss nodded. “He’s good, very good.”

  “Why is he in town?”

  The look in the lawman’s eyes had her blood freezing in her veins. She licked her suddenly dry lips and asked, “Is he here for me?”

  The lawman shook his head. “I think he’s here for Smythe.”

  Fear washed over her, magnifying the uneasy feeling in her stomach. “Why?”

  Instead of directly answering her question, the marshal said, “I don’t think the Committee for the Betterment of Emerson can afford Baker.”

  Pearl grabbed hold of Davidson’s arm. “What can we do?”

  “I think the girls should either go visit Maggie or Bridget.”

  Pearl nodded her agreement. Anything to keep her girls safe. “What about Davidson?”

  Smythe rubbed a hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe her. “I can take care of myself.”

  “But he’s a cold-blooded killer!” Didn’t they teach Boston men anything about life out West?

  Smythe arched a brow and asked, “Do you doubt I can hold my own against him?”

  “This isn’t high society in Boston, for God’s sake!” She couldn’t believe he didn’t understand. “Baker will come gunning for you, and he won’t send you an engraved invitation to let you know he is on his way.”

  “Then I’ll just have to be on my guard.”

  “Every minute,” the marshal added.

  “Of every day,” she finished. How could she protect the man she loved if he wouldn’t let her?

  “What about Burnbaum?”

  She was surprised he remembered to ask. “I don’t think he would have taken shots at either of us.”

  “But you think he’s capable of setting your barn on fire?”

  “Yes, I do—if he didn’t realize his oldest son was inside.”

  “Are you going to ask him if he did?” Smythe asked.

  Justiss shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m on my way back into town and will ride on over to Burnbaum’s and see if I can get him to admit he was behind the fire. But I’ll be surprised if he was behind either of the shootings.”

  “Thank you, Ben.” She knew she owed the marshal more than she could ever repay. “Thank you for not hauling me in to jail.”

  He smiled. “What, and have the committee on my doorstep everyday thanking me with pies and cakes?”

  She smiled back. “I could bake you a berry pie.”

  He picked his hat up off the floor where it had fallen in the scuffle and jammed it on his head. “I’ve got one waiting for me.”

  “Inga?”

  He grinned. “Inga.”

  “She’s a wonderful woman, Ben.” In her heart, Pearl knew Inga would be the perfect woman to balance the marshal’s life.

  “I know.”

  “You deserve to be happy.” She walked over to him, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.

  “Much obliged, Pearl.”

  She patted the cheek she kissed and nodded to Davidson. “Maybe you could see the marshal out for me.”

  His eyes met hers, and she knew they would have much to talk over after Justiss was on his way. First the girls had to be settled, then they had to come up with a plan for dealing with Baker.

  If only it were just the Burnbaums they had to deal with.

  Two hours later, Pearl and Davidson were taking Daisy and Amy over to Flaherty’s ranch to join the others. There were plenty of ranch hands to watch over them, which was the main reason she’d chosen Bridget’s care over Maggie’s.

  “Won’t you stay, Pearl?”

  She knew why Bridget asked, but she just couldn’t. The killer could follow them, and then everyone at the ranch would be in danger. How could she subject Bridget and her unborn child to the possibility of a hired gunman’s bullet?

  Her voice hitched when she replied. “You know why I can’t.”

  “Seamus’s men can protect you and the girls.”

  “Bridget, please don’t ask me.”

  The other woman sighed. “I understand, but that doesn’t mean I agree with your plan.”

  Pearl nodded. Thank goodness her friend wasn’t going to make this harder than it already was.

  “Do the girls know why they are here?”

  Pearl looked away, but answered, “Yes.”

  “And they will agree to stay here until you come back and get them?”

  Pearl’s heart hurt. The words she and Amy had hurled at one another were still raw. “They will.”

  Bridget nodded. “Won’t you ask Reilly or Flynn to accompany you back to the ranch?”

  Pearl shook her head.

  “It’s not necessary. The marshal was watching the road from town and will let us know when we have to be on our guard.”

  Bridget looked as if she wanted to say more, but Pearl walked over to where Davidson stood, hat in hand. “I’m ready.”

  “Did you say goodbye to the girls?”

  She nodded. She had, and Lord love them, it had not g
one well at all. Nellie and Mary cried while Amy and Daisy had shouted their reasons for not wanting to stay.

  “Be safe, Pearl.”

  Pearl hugged Bridget, walked outside, waved goodbye to the girls, and left.

  * * *

  The ride home was quiet. Smythe watched Pearl closely for a sign as to what was going on in that mind of hers. But he gave up.

  He hadn’t a clue until she spoke, “Just a few miles more and we’ll be home.”

  He nodded. “Are you worried about the girls?”

  “No.”

  “Are you worried about Baker?”

  She locked gazes with him. “Yes.”

  “Don’t be.”

  Her face flushed an angry red. “How can you say that? You have no idea what it is like living out here. You have no understanding of why a man would accept money to kill someone.”

  His gut iced over. “You’d be wrong about that.”

  Her eyes widened, but whatever he was going to say was destined to remain a mystery.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  She woke to find him gone. Worry had her calling out to him while she raced downstairs and out into the yard. Fear churned through her now.

  “How could he just leave me?”

  There had to be a good reason, a damned good reason for him to up and leave her. He loved her, didn’t he? He asked her to marry him!

  But his horse was gone. She checked. Walking back inside, she noticed his small leather bag was gone too. Slipping into a kitchen chair, she leaned forward and laid her head on the table.

  “You’re ten times a fool, Pearl Lloyd.” Tears clogged her throat, but she sniffed them back and lifted her head. “Even a fool knows when it’s time to do the right thing.”

  She pushed herself up out of the chair and stood. “And it’s time to go have a talk with the marshal and Jake Burnbaum.”

  When she hadn’t found them at the marshal’s office or the boarding house, she tracked them down over at Peterson’s stable.

  “Where were you last night?” Justiss demanded of Burnbaum. The tic was back. Pearl suspected he was angry, and the facial tic right under his left eye confirmed it.

  “Home.”

  “All night?”

  “Yeah, all night.”

  Pearl wondered why Burnbaum was lying and bit down hard on her tongue to keep from asking him.

  “You were seen riding into town.”

  Burnbaum’s eyes shifted over to where Pearl stood.

  What is he trying to hide? she wondered.

  “I ought to keep your sorry ass locked in jail overnight and see if it improves your memory.”

  The deep red flush staining the older man’s face worried Pearl, but Justiss would not let Burnbaum hurt her. She had nothing to worry about.

  The air vibrated with the force of Burnbaum’s anger, but still he remained silent.

  “Pearl, would you please wait here? I’ll be right back.”

  Her tongue was just getting the feeling back in it; she nodded.

  The marshal grabbed Burnbaum by the arm and shoved him back toward the cell.

  “Wait!”

  “Time’s up.” The lawman’s eyes glittered with anger.

  Pearl was relieved not to be the one to prick his formidable temper.

  “All right,” Burnbaum grumbled. “I’ll talk, but she”—he said, pointing a finger at Pearl—“has to leave.”

  To give Ben credit, he didn’t flinch, merely tugged on the other man’s arm and started shoving him through the doorway. Closing the cell door, he said, “Pearl deserves to hear whatever you have to say.”

  “But Sarah would never understand.” Burnbaum looked over his shoulder at her, and Pearl’s stomach bottomed out.

  The marshal practically vibrated with tension. “The committee is behind the fire?”

  Pearl still refused to believe Burnbaum would put his own son’s life in danger.

  Burnbaum’s face changed from ruby red to apoplectic purple, and his hands clenched into tight fists, still he didn’t answer the marshal’s questions.

  “Let’s go.” Justiss closed and locked the door.

  Pearl let go of the breath she’d been holding.

  Wood cracked like a gunshot as Burnbaum slapped his palms against the doorframe. “I’ll have my say!”

  “Too late,” Justiss told him. “You had your chance.”

  “But I’m innocent!”

  “I’m sure the judge will listen to your story. I don’t have the time.”

  Burnbaum rushed on, “I rode out to the ranch, following Samuel.” His gaze collided with Pearl’s his silent accusation darkening his gaze.

  She swallowed hard, asking, “Why did you follow him?”

  “His mother’s doesn’t want him panting after one of Pearl’s women.”

  Anger bubbled up from her toes. “My women? How dare you! You and every other man in town know what kind of place I run.”

  Her chest tightened. “Those women, as you call them, are the finest, most loyal bunch of girls I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.”

  Burnbaum opened his moth to speak, but a glare from the marshal had him clamping his jaw shut.

  Pearl nodded at Ben, thankful for his support. “I’m sorry Sarah is distressed, but Samuel and Amy are old enough to know their minds and—”

  “If he runs off and marries her,” Burnbaum interrupted, “he won’t get a cent from me.”

  Pearl sighed. “He expected you to say that.”

  The marshal cleared his throat and asked, “Did you see anyone out at Pearl’s place or notice anything suspicious?”

  Distracted, Burnbaum looked away from her. She was grateful for the marshal’s question; the older man’s scrutiny was making her sweat.

  “Now that you mention it, I did see that man from Boston. You know the one who’s been asking all those questions.”

  “Lincoln?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  Burnbaum shook his head. “No. Passed him when I was heading back into town.”

  “What about your wife’s involvement in this whole mess?”

  Burnbaum gripped the bars. His gaze darted away from the marshal and then back. “My wife means well.”

  Pearl snorted and muttered, “Like hell.”

  The marshal glared at her, then grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her away from the cell.

  Burnbaum panicked. “I’m innocent,” he said. “You can’t keep me locked up.”

  “I believe him,” Pearl said quietly. Her heart thundered in her breast. Could the men hear it pounding?

  Burnbaum’s head snapped around until he was looking her dead in the eye. “Why?”

  “You knew Samuel was going to meet Amy.” Even a fool would have known that was where his son was headed.

  The other man nodded, waiting for her to continue.

  “As much as you disapprove of Amy and resent me for not letting you make me into the whore you thought I already was—”

  Ben glared at her and yelled, “You are not a whore!”

  “I never laid a hand—”

  She sniffed back the tears that threatened to fall at the marshal’s defense of her and met Burnbaum’s glare with a steady look. “No,” she said. “You didn’t. I believe it was your right fist.”

  The marshal whirled around to face Burnbaum, who backed slowly away from the bars and from the volatile look in the lawman’s eyes.

  Lord, she needed to finish this. “Stretch the truth if you need to about what happened that night, Jake Burnbaum. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I forget the pain, or the sound of my lip splitting, or my jaw cracking.”

  She never saw the marshal move, but the cell door was flung open and Burnbaum was dangling three inches above the ground, held aloft by the lawman’s hands wrapped around his throat.

  Pearl knew she’d gone too far. Knew she shouldn’t have brought the past into the present, but she had to in order to prove B
urnbaum’s innocence. He was guilty of a lot of things, but the man would never have endangered his son’s life.

  “You have to let him go, Ben.” If he felt her hand touching his shoulder, he gave no indication. He tightened his grip and the other man began to turn purple.

  “Killing him now won’t change the past.” Her words had the same affect as if she’d tossed a bucketful of cold water on Justiss. He let go of Burnbaum and stepped back. The other man slumped against the wall.

  “You have to understand what Burnbaum is capable of in order to see that he is innocent of setting the fire.”

  She paused, wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, and grabbed her skirts with fists that wanted to strike out at Burnbaum as the marshal had. But she refused to do it. She wouldn’t sink to that level, or else no one would believe what she had to say.

  “He would crush Samuel’s spirit in a heartbeat, would flay him alive with his poisonous tongue.” She heard Burnbaum’s low growl of annoyance, but she wouldn’t back down now. “But he’d rather be skinned alive than physically harm one hair on his son’s head.”

  “How do you know that?” Burnbaum pushed away from the wall and took a step toward her.

  The marshal stepped between them. “Does it matter?”

  An emotion too close to compassion for her comfort moved through Burnbaum’s glittering gaze. She wasn’t quite sure how to react, but knew better than to trust his actions toward her.

  “It matters,” Burnbaum admitted, looking down at his hands for a moment.

  “Tell us what happened.”

  Burnbaum’s head shot up and his gaze locked with hers.

  But when he answered her, she realized he was not speaking of last night’s fire.

  “I may have struck out at you in anger,” he began, speaking slowly, as if the words were foreign to his tongue. “After what Lloyd said about you and the other women he’d hired, I couldn’t believe you’d refuse to go upstairs with me.”

  His face mottled with patches of red, and Pearl stepped back in fear. Had she misjudged him? Was he capable of physically harming his own son? “I thought it was just me,” he said, his color leeching back to normal.

  “Peabody was egging me on, and I thought you were refusing because it was me.”