Explaining Herself (39 page)

Alden Wright mused, "I wonder if it gets easier or increasingly difficult for him each time one of you chooses a husband?"

Victoria considered that and said, "Even if he
doesn 't
get used to the idea, I'll still ma
rry Ross. So he might as well."

"I'm not sure it works that way," cautioned Ross, eyeing the doorway as if noticing that it provided the jail's only exit. But then he saw her watching him and managed a smile, if not one of his better ones. "But we'll make sure it does."

She nodded happily and whispered, "I love you, you know."

He bowed his head to hers, worshiped her with his eyes. "Beyond life," he reminded her. "Beyond anything."

So she stretched up for a kiss, which, after one last, wary glance at the door, he gave her. She sank into his embrace, warm and melting all over again.

Which was when Thaddeas walked in. Stopped still. Stiffened. His brown eyes began to narrow.

Victoria whispered, "And I really will visit you in jail."

Chapter Twenty-six

"Please state your name for the court," instructed Thaddeas from the front of the room. He looked his most proper and lawyer-like in a three-piece suit. Evangeline, seated beside Victoria, seemed more than content to simply watch him from the gallery, but Vic, leaning sideways to get a better view, wished he wouldn't keep standing between her and the witness. How was she supposed to report on this trial if she couldn't see?

It particularly frustrated her that the witness looked so handsome in his Sunday go-to-meeting clothes, and she hadn't spent time with him for two whole days!

"Ross Laurence," answered the man steadily.

To Vic's satisfaction, Thaddeas turned to face the jury, and she could finally better see her fiance. Ross's tanned, angled face and shiny black hair made him look as dangerous as ever; she suspected that perhaps he still was. But Thaddeas had cleared him of any lingering childhood charges. He was a good man, and he was now helping to convict a no-good rustler.

Surely the jury would see that!

Thaddeas said, over his shoulder, "And your profession?"

"I am the range detective for the Sheridan Cattle Association." Nobody would ever wonder who he worked for now. Despite the shoddy reputation that range detectives had, Ross had told her, he meant to uphold the law.

And he had experience in overcoming shoddy reputations.

"How long have you held this job?" Thaddeas was a good lawyer. He never sounded annoyed asking questions for which he full-well knew the answers.

"Since November," answered Ross. "Eight months." And finally, almost against his will, his gaze touched Victoria's. She liked how his lips pressed together with a brief mixture of pain and amusement.
Eight months
since he'd saved her from Sheriff Ward, since Thaddeas had cleared his name, since he'd come home to stay! If circumstances had been different, they would be married already.

But Papa had insisted on a long engagement and Ross had gratefully agreed, as if marrying her was worth any price. The only person who complained about the wait was Vic. And oh, she'd done her share of complaining. After all, Ross had been a model citizen!

Then again . ..

"Would you characterize yourself as
familiar
with the way cattle rustlers work?" Thaddeas managed not to make a face while asking that.

He and Papa hadn't gotten past that minor point quite yet.

"Yes," agreed Ross steadily. "I would."

"So your initial suspicion of Mr. Price was based on experience and real evidence."

"It was."

The defendant
—a forty-year-old man from Ohio, new to town that spring—scowled at them from where he sat with his own lawyer.

Thaddeas said, "Please tell us what led you to request
th
at Sheriff Jones take a look at Mr. Price's livestock."

Ross did so. Since Victoria had heard the story more than once, she nudged Evangeline, then tapped the little watch neatly pinned to her friend's best skirt. Mama had given Evangeline the watch for Christmas, and Evangeline seemed to enjoy opening its cover to show Victoria that it was only ten-thirty.

They had plenty of time, yet. So Vic jotted notes for her latest newspaper story and, only partly listening, simply watched the man she loved.

The man she would marry next week.

In eight months Ross had been everything, done anything anybody could want of him. He'd practically become part of the family, sitting beside her at church, coming to die Garrisons' increasingly awkward but always interesting Sunday dinners. He'd rented die apartment over Thaddeas's law offices to live in
—maybe in part so Thad could keep watch on him and see his innocence.

That winter, Ross had even helped Audra.

Of all the Garrison girls, nobody had thought proper
little
Audra would cause their first real scandal. Her beau, a seemingly respectable banker's son, had taken her on a carriage ride and kept her out well after nightfall
—cause enough for rude speculation, especially when Audra then refused to marry the scoundrel. Despite that she'd practically been kidnapped, poor Audra had taken her compromised reputation to heart. She hardly left the house except for
church and school. Once she finished out her levels, in May, she mainly went out for church. She hadn't even argued when the Sheridan school board chose not to hire her as a teacher, the one thing she'd ever really wanted.

Victoria wanted to argue. She wanted to argue plenty! But Audra begged her, and Laurel, and their mother to leave it alone. Reluctantly, they did.

No such luck with the menfolk, thank goodness. Forced into unnatural silence, Vic had felt all the better to learn that Ross had personally helped Papa, Thaddeas, Stuart MacCallum, and Collier Pembroke put the fear of God into Audra's former suitor.

Of the five of them, Victoria knew which one most bankers' sons would least want to meet in a dark alley.

Yet one more way she was nothing like a banker's son!

Now Audra was taking a teaching position with a widowed aunt, down in Texas where nobody knew her. Victoria didn't want to see her go. But in the meantime, Papa had allowed her and Ross to marry this summer, so that Audra could attend.

Next week,
she told herself happily, and shivered. In a week, Ross would really be part of her family, and she
—

Vic turned back to her friend, and Evangeline surreptitiously opened the watch again. Barely ten minutes had passed since the last time Vic checked. Even with Thad's questions to guide him, Ross was not particularly talkative.

Good.

Vic loved that Ross was now earning a living protecting cattle interests from bad men. She loved writing newspaper articles about it; her editor now joked that rustlers were her specialty. But what with her plans for the afternoon, she hoped Thaddeas would finish his questions, convict the greenhorn to a fair
judgment, and let Ross finally spend some time with her.

In public.

With Duchess.

"Mr. Laurence, do you have any further proof that the cattle were in the defendant's corral?" asked Victoria's brother, and Ross nodded.

Thad went to his table and picked up a handful of round, black-and-white photographs, returned to them by mail from Rochester, New York the previous week. "Please tell the court what these pictures show."

"Judge," protested the defending attorney.

Ross said, "Cattle in Mr. Price's corral."

Now the other lawyer stood. "Judge!"

"Mr. Nicholson, we've been through this before." But the judge glanced wearily toward Victoria as he said it. "Photographs count as legal evidence."

Thaddeas handed the pictures to the jury.

The photographs that Victoria had taken of Sheriff Ward, back in the box canyon, had created a sensation in Sheridan. They'd helped convict the rustler's accomplices and stained the sheriff's reputation to the point that nobody bothered investigating Ward's death. Since then, photographs were appearing in court more and more often. Especially since Kodak had recently started selling Brownie box cameras
—
You push the button, we do the rest
—for a dollar.

Victoria had bought Ross one for his birthday. Of course she would rather take any pictures he might need herself. But he'd gotten frustratingly stubborn about her not putting herself in danger.

Well, any more danger than necessary.

Not that she liked the story of how Mr. Price had threatened to shoot him rather than letting him ride away after taking the pictures. Apparently, Ross had ridden off anyway. He'd reassured her that he had a good eye for wh
ether a man had killing in him.

Mr. Price had not shot him.

"As you can see," Thaddeas was telling the jury, "this is clearly Mr. Price's cabin. The cattle in his corral bear brands from several area ranches. And lest my colleague argue that the defendant was unaware of their presence, in several of them, Mr. Price himself is standing among the stolen livestock."

Ross, still in the witness box, deliberately refused to look at Victoria. He was probably afraid he would smile.

Safe in the gallery, Vic smiled anyway. She seemed to be smiling all the time lately. They made a good team.

And she knew about the surprise.

Ross deliberately did not voice his concerns about Victoria's latest scheme. Whatever it was, she was enjoying it
—and he adored her.

"Hurry," she insisted, dragging him onto Sheridan's railroad platform by one tightly held hand. She was walking backwards, trusting him to keep her from falling or backing into unsuspecting townsfolk. "It's a surprise."

Not only did he adore her, but next week she would become his wife . . . assuming no
surprises
got in the way.

"Oh, don't scowl like that," she chided, reading his expression despite his silence. "It's not the kind of surprise that could result in you accidentally shooting someone. It's my wedding present to you, and I'm sure you'll like it."

Only then did she bite her lower lip in further thought. "Well, almost sure. I hope. I mean you'll like
it,
but you might not like that I didn't tell you earlier. I found out so close to the wedding that I thought it would make a good present. But. . ."

Frowning now, she pushed his chest with one hand.

"Stop being so gloomy
—now you've got me worried too."

"Don't worry," he assured her. It was the surprise part that concerned him, not the gift. Whatever she gave him would only add to the gift that was her hand, her heart, her future. Her world. Even after eight joyous months, he sometimes shook his head in wonder at how he'd ever become part of her world.

Compared to all that, she should not have bothered to get him anything, much less something special-ordered. But he would not argue that with her, either. He chose his arguments with Victoria carefully.

She was far better at words than he would ever be.

So he said, "Anything from you, I will love." And she rewarded him with one of her bright smiles, all the brighter for now knowing all of his secrets and still loving him.

"But this is special," she promised, turning anxiously toward the train tfiat was pulling into the station.

Special
did not comfort a cautious man like Ross much more than
surprise.
Still, he caught her hand with his and tugged her gently against his side, weaving their fingers together. Some bystanders noticed, and a few whispered. If she did not mind, he refused to.

They had the dog with them, didn't they? And she was
marrying
him. Thanks to poor Audra and her unfortunate scandal, he and Vic hadn't even had to wait the entire year!

Sometimes, he thought as the train huffed and chugged to a reluctant stop, things really did happen for the best.

And then sometimes, one of the meanest outlaws Ross had ever known stepped off the train
—barely a week before his wedding.

Taking in Harvey "Kid Curry" Logan's dark coloring and handsome, amoral fac
e, Ross fell into his old, cau
tious posture without even thinking. It matched Logan's. When the outlaw's Cherokee eyes brushed across Ross, they widened in recognition, then narrowed with suspicion.

Ross set Victoria firmly to one side. "Stay here."

"But your present
—"

"I won't be long," he assured her, and warned her with his eyes that she'd best not risk following him. He trusted that she would not. They'd had to come to
some
agreements over the past months. The joyful, loving, full months he'd had with her.