Bushedwhacked Groom (35 page)

Red-faced, Hackett hitched up his pants. “But Leroy, you got no call to jail me, a fellow lawman. I was trying
my best to help ya keep the peace. And I can always tes
tify to the character of Widow Hicks here, and her boys.”

Grandma sneered at Dulcie, with her rouged
cheeks, scarlet dress and feathered hat. “Like how they
ain’t got none, Hiram?”

As Hackett went even redder, several men guffawed. Lucky watched Jessica step forward, Dumpling follow
ing her with the two babies. “Sheriff, you have no call
to hold my husband or anyone else in our family. My
kin merely came to the defense of my younger boy af
ter Mr. Trumble assaulted him.”

“Yeah!” added Dumpling, glaring at Trumble.

“That pissant dared to approach my daughter!” Trum
ble yelled back.

“Which gave you no call to hit him. This is a public
event!” Cole shouted.

“He’s a Reklaw—that’s cause enough,” snapped
Trumble.

“Cause enough to hang you,” retorted Uncle Billy.

“Spoken like a true outlaw,” Trumble taunted back.

The gathering thrummed with tension.

“Yeah, I know all about you Reklaws,” Sheriff Lum
mety sneered to Cole, “how you boys terrorized this re
gion twenty-some years back, how you locked up my pa when he tried to arrest you.”

“Actually, Joshua Hicks did that,” Cole attested. “Your
father was a sanctimonious blowhard—”

“And a pain in the neck,” added Dumpling.

Lummety turned on her. “How dare you besmirch
his name, madam.”

Jessica spoke up. “The point is, Sheriff, that all of that
is in the past.”

“With all the robberies we’ve been having?
I’m
not
so sure.”

Buffalo Bill now wended his way through the gather
ing, smiling amiably, his imposing presence at once
calming the throng. “Sheriff, may I be of any assistance
here?”

“Thank you, Colonel Cody, but please don’t concern yourself. This is a community matter we can handle on
our own.”

“But I feel a part of this community—at least for to
day,” the colonel replied eloquently. “And I hate to see
our performance end on such a sour note—especially
with the potential incarceration of some of my guests.”

Lummety snorted. “Ain’t you riled to have your show
busted up? And sides, these folks added their own
sour notes.”

“That may be true. But considering how my troupe
tends to work folks into a froth of excitement, can’t
you extend some measure of mercy?”

The sheriff was about to answer when a well-dressed
man broke through the horde, screaming, “Robbed!
We’ve been robbed!”

As shocked comments spewed forth, the sheriff
swung about to address the newcomer. “Banker Wilkins,
what is the matter?”

The brown-suited man rushed up, mopping his
damp brow with a handkerchief. “With the show over, I
went down to open the bank and discovered someone
broke into the safe last night and cleaned it out.”

Amid cries of dismay, Lummety turned irately back
to Cody. “So I should let these folks go? Knowing there
are likely bank robbers in our midst?”

“You have no reason to accuse us of thievery” Cole
declared.

“You mean I shouldn’t assume your boys are follow
ing in your own footsteps, Mr. Reklaw?”

“Sheriff, how dare you slander my sons without
proof,” Jessica chided.

The sheriff jerked his chin toward the posse. “Well,
one thing’s for certain: No one’s going anywhere until you’re all thoroughly questioned and your belongings
are searched. Since we can’t fit you all in at the jail . . .Men, take these suspects down to the lobby of the
Longhorn Inn and let’s get started there.”

Ignoring the suspects’ numerous protests, the posse
herded the alleged lawbreakers back toward town.

Lucky squeezed his wife’s hand as they moved along
with Grandma and the Reklaw men. “Don’t worry,
honey, we’ll be fine.”

“You think
I’m
worried?” she mocked.

“Lucky’s right, honey,” added her father. “Don’t fret. Us men’ll protect you.”

She rolled her eyes. “How ‘bout Grandma and me will
protect you menfolk?”

“That’s right, honey, you tell ‘em!” cheered Grandma.

As the men chuckled, Lucky watched Buffalo Bill
move into step beside Cole and extend a gnarled
hand. “Well, Mr. Reklaw,
I’m
surprised our paths have
never crossed before. I’ve heard of your exploits nu
merous times.”

Cole grinned and shook Bill’s hand. “But not for
more than twenty years now—though I do appreciate
your efforts to rescue my family, Colonel Cody.”

“Ah, there’s nothing worse than a reformed outlaw,”
Bill taunted.

“Only a reformed Indian fighter, eh, sir?” Cole countered wryly. “By the way, a fine show you folks put on
today.”

“Thank you kindly, though I definitely got upstaged at the end.” Cody tipped his hat toward Molly, then
winked solemnly at Grandma. “Madam, would you be
interested in joining our troupe as our official broom
maiden?”

She harrumphed, then broke into a grin. “Thank you
kindly, Bill, but I’ve got enough trouble on my hands
trying to keep all these rascals in line.”

Amid eye-rolls from the rascals, Lucky tugged Molly forward with him. “Hey, Buffalo Bill, meet my bride,
Molly Lamont.”

“A pleasure, ma’am.”

“I loved the show,” Molly told Bill, “but where’s Annie
Oakley?”

Buffalo Bill chuckled. “Little Annie retired several
years back.” Lowering his voice, he added confiden
tially, “Which I’m hoping the rest of you will be able to
do, before Sheriff Lummety sends you all on to that
next great roundup.”

The group marched on, jawboning and laughing.

Chapter Thirty-seven

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Several days later, Lucky walked toward the barn with
a spring in his step and a picnic basket in hand. The
day had dawned hazy, but surely the mist would burn
off soon.

As for his mind, it was perfectly clear—and he was
ready to tell Molly what was in his heart. Ever since he’d witnessed her courage and grit as she’d fought
fiercely for her family at Colonel Cody’s Wild West show, he’d been burning to tell her his true feelings.

That incident had ended in freedom for the Reklaw
clan and frustration for the
Colorado
City
sheriff, who’d
been unable to recover any loot or usable leads from
among the numerous suspects he’d detained. Ulti
mately, Sheriff Lummety had been impelled to give up
and release everyone. Of course, rumors still abounded
regarding who the actual robbers were—gossip that un
fortunately still placed the Reklaw sons squarely at the
top of the list.

Lucky knew he couldn’t resolve that issue now, but
he could settle matters with his bride. He only regretted that he’d waited so long.

This morning he planned to take Molly back to the
old homestead for a surprise breakfast. In the basket
he’d packed rolls and fruit, as well as a jar of Grandma’s
apple cider. He’d profess his love for her there, where
their shared future awaited them.

He was ambling into the barn, whistling a jaunty
tune, when he spotted Sanchez brushing one of
the horses while singing
“
La Paloma.”
“Buenas dias,
Sanchez. You’re here just in time to help me hitch up
the buggy.”

“
Sí,
señor. Where are you bound?”

“To the lower five hundred with my bride.”

Sanchez grinned. “I’m sure the señora will be
pleased. You might also want to take her by Reklaw
Gorge.”

Lucky frowned. “Why would I take her there?”

Sanchez beamed with pride. “To see S
eñor
ita Lila
Lullaby’s stagecoach, of course. I finished putting it
back together yesterday.”

A chill washed over Lucky. “You
what
? You didn’t.”

Sanchez blanched.
“
Sí,
señor
.”

“But why the hell would you do that?”

“Because you asked me to, señor.
No recordo?”

“Shit! I plumb forgot!”

Lucky shoved the picnic basket into the arms of the
astonished Sanchez and raced toward the nearest
stall. Never in his life had he saddled a horse so
quickly.

***

Molly emerged out of the front door to see Lucky rid
ing off hell-bent for leather toward the west. Perplexed,
she watched Sanchez exit the barn carrying a picnic
basket.

She hurried over to join him. “Sanchez, where is
Lucky going?”

“To Reklaw Gorge,
señor
a.”

“Reklaw Gorge? But why?”

He avoided her gaze.

“Damn it, tell me why!”

“To see the
coche.”

“You mean that pile of rubble?”

“No, the stagecoach, señora. I put it back together.”

“No! You didn’t! But why?”

Sanchez lowered his gaze in confusion and shame.
“Because the señor asked me to.”

“0h, God,” Molly muttered, realization dawning on
her. “You gotta help me saddle up Prissy right now.”

“
Sí,
s
eñor
a.”

Molly raced for the barn with Sanchez, struggling
hard against the hot tears that threatened to well up.
So Lucky had been repairing the stagecoach the entire
time he'd been making love to her and promising he
would never leave her. Had she been an utter fool?
Had he been lying to her all along? Did he really plan
to forsake her now?

***

“Oh, God!”

Lucky stood above Reklaw Gorge, staring down in
trepidation and horror at the restored stagecoach,
which was perched on the ledge directly below him.
He instinctively knew he was looking at an object that
held the power to separate him from Molly forever. The
conveyance looked rickety as hell, pieced together in patchwork style, mis
shapen but still a reasonable facsimile of the ve
hicle that had brought him across time. Why the hell hadn’t he stopped Sanchez from reassembling it? He
knew he must destroy it immediately, or it might well
take him away from the woman he’d come to love.

He was about to jump down onto the ledge when he
turned at the sound of hoofbeats . . .

***

Molly’s heart ached as she galloped toward the
canyon. Was Lucky still there? Or was she too late? If
he hadn’t left as yet, could she convince him to stay
with her?

And with the child she now knew she carried?

The very thought brought a lump to her throat and
tears to her eyes. No, she realized, she couldn’t use the
baby to keep him. If her love wasn’t enough to hold
him here, she had to let him go.

Then her heart welled with joy at the sight of him
standing at the rim of the gorge. Thank God! He was
still there.

***

Molly! She had come after him! Lucky’s heart welled with joy at the sight of his beautiful bride galloping toward him. As she arrived before him, he all but hauled
her off the horse. “Sweetheart! What are you doing
here?”

She peered over the rim. “You—you reassembled
the coach! You were going to use it to leave me—to go
back to your time—”

“No, darling, no.”

“Oh, I knew you’d never really be able to forgive me or trust me!”

“Molly, that’s not true!”

Trembling, she thrust herself into
his arms. “Well, I don’t care, Lucky Lamont.”

“You don’t?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “I don’t care about
my pride, or about winning, or about anything but you. T
ake me with you.”

Stunned, Lucky gazed down into her
earnest face. “What? You would leave this time? Your family?
The land you love? All for me?”

She nodded, her feelings shining through straight
from her heart. “Of course I will. I’ll do anything to
keep us together.”

“0h, darling. But . . .” Exultantly, he laughed. “But
I’m
not
leaving you.”

“
What
? Then why—”

“I’ll admit for a while I was tempted. I even began reassem
bling the coach, but soon abandoned the project. I
didn’t realize Sanchez had actually finished rebuild
ing it.”

“You didn’t?” she asked in confusion “Are you telling
me the truth, Lucky Lamont?”

He nodded soberly. “Yes, darling, yes.”

“But . . . why would you stay?” she asked in anguish.

He swallowed hard. “Because I love you, of course.”

For a moment she just stared at him, features rapt
with hope. Then she threw her arms around him. “Oh,
Lucky, I love you, too.”

“You do?” Lucky could barely speak, barely breathe. Her ad
mission was like manna from heaven. “Oh, Molly, I’m
so happy. And
I’m
not going anywhere, darling. Not
now or ever.”

They kissed passionately and held each other close,
barely even aware of their surroundings, until the
sounds of another approaching rider caught their at
tention. Lucky turned and blinked, unable to believe his eyes as he spied a misty horseman in the distance, a pudgy man in a familiar sheepskin coat. “On, no!
Good heavens, Molly, this sounds crazy, but I think I
see Grover Singleton riding toward us.”

Molly gasped and stared off at the hazy stranger.
“You mean, the man from 2004, the one who hog-tied
you, pushed you into the gorge and tried to kill you?”

“Yes, that very one. Damn, I never should have let Sanchez finish reassembling that stage. Now it’s starting to happen all over again!”

She seized his hands. “Lucky, we must run. He could
hurt you.”

“I don’t care about me. He could hurt you!”

“Or our child,” she added breathlessly.

Lucky’s eyes went wild with joy. “Our child? You’re
carrying my baby?”

She smiled with total love. “Yes, darling.”

Quickly, he embraced her. “Oh, Molly, I’m so thrilled.
But there’s no time to waste. Let’s climb down onto the
ledge and push that stagecoach into the gorge.”

She appeared perplexed. “You really think that will
stop him?”

“Yes. Don’t argue with me, we gotta destroy it—now!”

They clambered down onto the ledge, shared a
smile, then gave the stagecoach a mighty push. Lucky held Molly close as the vehicle slammed and bammed
and crashed its way down into the gorge, landing in a
blast of spewing wood, metal and dust. Bliss filled
Lucky’s heart to know his escape route through time
was finally sealed off—forever.

But afterward, Lucky could still hear the sounds of
an approaching rider. “Hell! Molly, come on. If we
hurry, maybe we can still get out of here before Singleton reaches us.”

He climbed onto the ridge and pulled Molly up,
only to be flabbergasted when she pointed to the rider and hooted a laugh. “Lucky Lamont, have you up and
lost your mind? That’s not Grover Singleton at all. It’s
my brother Cory!”

“What?” Lucky did a double take at the rider—who was actually much slimmer than Grover, his sheepskin coat transformed into a beige western shirt. “Well, hot damn, Molly, you’re right, it
is
Cory—though I could
have sworn it was Grover.”

“Me, too.” At his confused look, she amended,
“
I
mean, I could have sworn it was someone else.”

As Cory pulled up before them wearing an anxious
expression, Molly asked, “What the heck are you doing
way out here, brother?”

Breathlessly, he replied, “Sanchez told me you folks
were here. Molly, Lucky, you need to come with me
now.”

“But why?” Lucky asked.

“Because Sheriff Hackett caught the outlaw gang.”

“What?” Molly cried. “He sure enough nabbed ‘em?”

“Yeah, he rounded them up. And you’re going to
have to see this to believe it.”