The Cowboy's Honor

by Lacy Williams

  She could hear Phillip putting his typewriter in the heavy leather box that he used to keep it from being damaged as he carted it around. The sound stopped, and he sat back down across from her. His knee must've bumped the table, because the dishes rattled.

  “Emma, there's something else I've been wanting to talk to you about."

  She settled her teacup back in at saucer, using her fingertips to guide the cup gently to its resting place. She turned her face in his direction.

  He cleared his throat. "We've been working together for a while. And we've come to know each other rather well. My admiration for you has grown so that I can barely contain it."

  Heat flooded her face, pulsing at the place where her jaw met her ear. What was he trying to say?

  "I know you wanted to return to Wyoming. But I’m hoping I can convince you to come back to Denver with me. To be my wife."

  A tiny laugh burbled out of her, and she shook herself. "I'm sorry." She hadn't meant to offend him. "I'm just—very surprised."

  "It's all right.” His tone was too high, and he cleared his throat, lowered his voice. “I wasn't sure—that is, I know I haven't made my feelings clear before this moment."

  “I can’t… As you said, I haven't even had a chance to settle in Wyoming yet." She didn't know what to say. Phillip was kind, but she didn't have deeper feelings for him, not like he claimed to have for her.

  "I'm sure it must be a lot to think about. You should talk to your sister."

  Emma knew her own mind. She took advice from Fran when she needed it, but she was perfectly capable of deciding this.

  "Maybe you could give me an answer tomorrow, when we meet again."

  Relieved that she didn't have to break his heart this instant, but mostly that she didn't have to ruin her final day of working with Phillip—getting the most important part of her manuscript on paper—she stood a little too quickly.

  He accompanied her past the front desk and out onto the boardwalk. Yesterday, it had been Susie and Velma sent to town to fetch her, but today it was an unexpected voice that called out to her.

  "Emma." That was Seb.

  She felt Phillip bristle. Did he remember seeing Seb in Daniel’s home back in Denver? He must.

  "It's Phillip, isn't it?” Seb said.

  She heard boot steps on the boardwalk and then felt Seb come close, his arm brushing hers as he must've reached out toward Phillip. She heard the slide of their skin as they shook hands.

  "Seb White. I'm here to fetch Emma home."

  There was a silence that stretched a little too long. What were they doing? Just staring at each other? Were they still shaking hands?

  The moment was broken, and Seb's hand slipped beneath her elbow. "The wagon is just across the street."

  Phillip called out after her. "Until tomorrow."

  She lifted a hand to wave over her shoulder.

  Seb was silent as they crossed the street.

  She heard a horse’s whicker, and Seb drew her to a stop.

  "I should've asked—do you need to stop anywhere else before we head home?"

  She spared a single thought for the beautiful shawl. Not today. “I'm ready."

  He took her waist in her hands, and her breath caught in her throat as he assisted her over the wagon wheel and onto the seat.

  She heard his footsteps as he crossed behind the wagon and then felt the shift as he levered himself onto the bench beside her.

  "I was expecting Susie.” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears. Would he hear it too?

  If he did, he didn't comment. "I was already coming into town. It's no trouble."

  No trouble. He hadn’t come because he'd wanted to see her or to have a chance to talk to her. He just happened to be in town.

  She heard this soft catch of his breath. "I was happy to do it.”

  Her heart leaped.

  * * *

  Seb had been anticipating this moment since he’d realized that he would be accompanying Emma home. Alone.

  He and Oscar had ridden with Cora Beth to her farm, where they’d loaded up the chickens. There, Oscar had headed back to the homestead, and Seb had delivered Cora Beth to the train station and seen her safely off.

  Oscar had been the one who’d mentioned needing to find someone to bring Emma home from Bear Creek. Seb had jumped at the chance.

  Right up until he’d seen her emerge from the hotel with her beau from back in Denver.

  Phillip had hovered over her with a proprietary glint in his eyes. And then there’d been a sizing up as he’d shaken Seb’s hand like he was trying to smash an egg in his grip.

  Back in Denver, Emma had said she only worked with Phillip. That their relationship was not romantic.

  But Wyoming was a long way to travel to work as a typist. Had things changed? Did the man have a claim on Emma?

  Why else would he come so far?

  He felt sick to his stomach. Emma had every right to move on. It had been a wild hope that she would be unattached when he was finally free.

  "It will be nice to have a chance to catch up,” Emma said softly.

  The wagon jostled over a rut in the road, and she slid so that her hip bumped into his.

  It was torture having her so close, not knowing where they stood.

  "I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk yesterday," he said.

  "I understood. Your family has missed you." But had she missed him? "And you had Cora Beth to look after."

  She sat beside him, perfectly poised. Had he imagined the questioning tone in her voice? Was there a hint of jealousy?

  Maybe he was projecting his feelings onto her.

  “Cora Beth is an old friend from our school days. She needed some help, and I was there. I just dropped her off at the train station. She's going to visit her aunt for a while."

  Emma's chin dipped slightly, her face tilting slightly toward him. "So she's not… You're not…"

  She was curious! He latched on to her awkward statement like a fish onto a worm. "She and I are just friends. Always have been."

  Color appeared high in her cheeks, and he was glad for it. He was opening his mouth to ask about Phillip when she spoke again.

  "How have you been these past months? I thought about you. Wondered whether you were all right."

  "Once I made it through the hard part, I came straight home. Being with you—and Daniel—made me remember. Made me want to come back here."

  Her nose wrinkled. “You didn't really answer my question."

  She was too intuitive. Of course she’d noticed.

  How could he tell her about those dark days locked in a prison cell? He’d deserved every one of them. Deserved even more than he’d gotten. But if she knew about prison, he’d have to tell her about what had come before. He’d never told her about Tolliver, about being an enforcer and the awful things he’d done. As far as she knew, he was still one of the good guys.

  And if that rosy blush was for him, he didn't want to see the light dim from her eyes. Didn’t want to see her admiration fade away.

  “There were hard days. But that’s over now.” He could only hope that would be enough. What he needed to know was whether she’d missed him.

  He didn't know how to navigate the tenuous connection between them.

  "Are you and Phillip a couple?" He choked out the last words, envy nearly blinding him.

  She flushed again, this time pressing her hand to her cheeks.

  "What?" he asked. “I saw him once, in Denver. Had a feeling maybe he wanted to be more than friends.”

  She shook her head, still with her hands at her cheeks. "Was it obvious to everyone except me?"

  What did that mean?

  "Phillip asked me to marry him."

  Shock and dismay rattled him down to his toes. Emma was engaged. To Phillip.

  The news felt like a cinch clamping around his chest.

  Of course. Of course she was taken.

  She was beautiful, kind, independent, and she
had a lovely spirit. If only he'd made different choices.

  He tried to form words to congratulate her, but his tongue was twisted and wrong.

  And then he caught sight of a rider coming their way and fast.

  He touched Emma’s wrist. She jumped.

  “Someone’s riding this way from the homestead.”

  As the rider neared, he saw two smaller forms in the saddle. Walt, with Andrew clinging to his brother riding double. He reined in the horses, drawing the wagon to a halt.

  Walt pulled his horse to a stop in front of them. His animal was already winded.

  “What’s going on?” Seb demanded.

  Walt panted. “We're heading to town to fetch Maxwell. Matty’s real bad hurt.”

  “He musta got into a fight or something,” Andrew chimed in. “He's all busted up."

  Emma pressed one hand to her mouth. "Oh no."

  “We gotta hurry,” Walt said.

  Seb waved the boys on, calling, “Be safe!” after them.

  He slapped the reins. “Giddup.”

  Urgency nipped at his heels, though he wouldn’t be any more help than his Ma and Sarah at doctoring up his brother. But he needed to see Matty. To know he was all right.

  It must be bad if his family had sent for Maxwell. His parents had had plenty of practice patching up a house full of rough-and-tumble boys over the years.

  Seb knew that Matty sometimes rode into danger in his job as a deputy, but up until now he’d never been badly hurt.

  Seb forgot all about Emma and her fiancé as he pushed the horses as fast as he could toward home.

  When they arrived, Emma begged to be let off at Fran and Edgar's cabin. "If I go up to the main house, I'll just be in the way."

  He hated that she felt that way but knew that there was a good chance his brother was surrounded by folks already.

  He helped her clamber out of the wagon and drove the horses to the barn, where he unhitched them. He made sure they were fed and watered.

  In the kitchen he found Sarah and her middle daughter, Susie, boiling water and looking worried. They must’ve known it was too soon for Maxwell to walk through the door, but the tiny amount of hope in their expressions dimmed when they saw him.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  Susie had tears in her eyes.

  It was Sarah who answered. "We don't know. He was unconscious when he arrived. Someone had slung him over his saddle face down and tied him on."

  "After they beat the snot out of him," Susie added. "He was black and blue, bleeding from his head."

  “Susie. That's not helpful.”

  Sarah urged her daughter to check with Penny and Catherine, Matty’s wife, to see if they needed anything. Susie carried some clean towels down the hall with her.

  “What can I do?"

  Sarah looked as helpless as he felt. "Your mother has bandaged him up the best she can. We're waiting on Maxwell."

  Seb wondered whether he should ride into town to the sheriff’s office. Maybe if he could find out who or what Matty had been after, he could figure out what had happened to his brother.

  But before he could decide whether to go or not, Jonas appeared from the back hallway, looking haggard. "His breathing is shallow. I don't know what else we can do for him. Only pray."

  14

  Thunk.

  Seb stacked another half log on the chopping block and swung the ax again.

  Thunk.

  Matty hadn't roused during the night. It was coming on to mid-morning, and Seb was working out his frustration by chopping wood. His muscles burned, reminding him that he hadn't done this kind of physical labor in far too long.

  Earlier he’d seen Emma and Susie load up in the wagon and head for town. No doubt Emma was glad to escape the dreary cloud hanging over the entire family. Maybe her beau would comfort her.

  Seb swung the ax again.

  Thunk.

  It didn’t help.

  He was angry that he couldn’t do anything for his brother.

  And angry that he’d missed his chance with Emma.

  Maybe they’d never had one.

  Thunk.

  Angry. Frustrated. Sad.

  Would she leave Wyoming now? She must've come to visit Fran and Eloise and Henry. But if she was getting married, surely she would return to Denver.

  Maybe it had been a mistake to come home. Misfortune seemed to be falling on everyone, and he couldn't help feeling as if he’d brought it with him.

  That was ridiculous, wasn't it?

  The stack of logs had dwindled, and he finished the last few pieces, grateful to be done with the chore. Maybe there were stalls to muck out in the barn.

  He couldn't sit around and do nothing.

  Waiting to find out if his brother would wake up again was pure torture.

  Maxwell had examined Matty last night, noting bruising in his midsection and ribs, like he’d been bludgeoned. There’d been no swelling that might signify internal injuries, which was a blessing.

  The head wound was trickier. Maxwell had found a huge lump swollen at Matty’s hairline behind one ear. Someone had used a lot of force to knock Matty out.

  Seb had stood out in the hall, shoulder-to-shoulder with Edgar and Oscar and Davy, while Maxwell examined their brother. Matty’s wife Catherine had been sitting at his side, and Seb had heard her soft sobs as Maxwell explained just how bad the injuries were.

  If Matty didn't wake up… It didn't bear thinking about.

  Seb had been gone for long enough that he didn't know which chore was most important to complete next. He headed to the main house, where Oscar had been sitting with Jonas in the kitchen.

  He found the kitchen a hive of activity.

  Penny was pulling together what looked like a pot of soup. He’d seen her slide a huge ham into the oven earlier in the day. Had she changed her mind about what she was cooking for the noon meal?

  Sarah was watching over Velma, Walt, Ida, and Andrew at the table. The four children had their schoolwork open on the table in front of them, but they weren’t working so much as whispering amongst themselves.

  If he wasn't mistaken, those were tears on Penny's cheeks. Sarah’s cheeks were pink and her eyes bright.

  He hung his hat on a peg by the door. “Is Oscar around?"

  Oscar would know what needed to be done next. Seb wouldn’t bother Pa right now.

  Penny swiped at her cheek briskly, glancing over her shoulder. "He's back with Matty. Your brother woke up."

  Matty was awake?

  Seb kissed his ma on the cheek. A fresh hope made his steps light as he went down the hall to see for himself. Pa was heading toward him in the narrow hallway, and Seb felt a moment of dread when he spotted Jonas’s dark frown.

  What was going on? Had Matty slipped back into unconsciousness? Ma and Sarah had been lit up with hope a few moments ago. They would be devastated.

  Jonas put up a hand to stop Seb in the hallway.

  “What happened?" Seb asked.

  "It's best to hear from your brother, but he's very weak." Jonas was trying to convey something with his expression, his eyes fierce and focused. "I don't want you getting your brother riled up. Once he says what he's got to say, you come back out, and we'll talk, you and I."

  With those ominous words ringing in his ears, Seb pushed past his father into Matty’s bedroom.

  Catherine was still at Matty's side, holding his hand. The room was mostly dark, curtains drawn against the sunlight.

  His brother lay flat on his back.

  Seb remembered those few days back in Denver when he’d suffered from the concussion Tolliver’s goons had given him. How the bright light had made him feel as if his head were going to explode.

  Oscar stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "Seb?" Matty’s voice was weaker than Seb had ever heard it.

  He moved to stand at the side of the bed. “I'm right here."

  Matty swallowed, the movement difficult.


  Seb hadn't wanted to be in the way last night and he hadn't seen his brother up close until now. He had cuts and bruises covering his face, even on his shoulders visible above the blanket. His right eye had been blackened. And there were still traces of dried blood crusted around his nose. Each breath he drew rasped and rattled in his chest.

  Matty spoke with difficulty. "He said… that I… was the message."

  Matty's words didn't make any sense.

  "Who did this to you?" Seb asked.

  Catherine glared at him. Had he barked the words instead of a whisper as he’d meant to? Seeing his brother like this made every protective instinct inside him roar like a mama bear with a threatened cub.

  "Said his name was Tolliver.”

  Seb froze. Every muscle coiled. The little bit of air in his chest lodged, and he couldn’t breathe.

  It couldn't be.

  Matty wasn't finished. "He said he was sending you a message. … I'm the message."

  No. “I’m—so sorry.” His voice broke on the words. “This is all my fault.”

  Oscar moved in the corner, and Seb shook loose of the icy bonds that had frozen his limbs. He wanted to squeeze his brother’s shoulder but was afraid of hurting the man further, so he settled for a gentle pat on Matty's hand, the only visible part of him that looked unharmed. "You just rest up."

  He left the room blindly, Oscar on his heels.

  His mind was reeling. When everything had gone down in Colorado, Tolliver’s criminal enterprise had been dismantled, but the man himself had escaped.

  And somehow ended up here, where he’d sent Seb a message by nearly killing his brother.

  Jonas was waiting in the family room, arms crossed and face expressionless. Oscar came in close behind Seb, and it was so much like being herded around the way he’d experienced with the prison guards that for a moment he forgot where he was.

  "You want to tell me what’s chasing you, son?" Jonas sent a glance to the kitchen.

  Seb was conscious of the children. If they kept their voices low enough, they wouldn’t be overheard.

  Seb shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around what Matty had said and what it meant. "I didn't think anyone had followed me home."