Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone Sheriff\The Gentleman Rogue\Never Trust a Rebel (20 page)

Jericho nuzzled her ear. “You think Sanchez noticed my boots by the door?”

“No. Señor Sanchez is so near-sighted he is almost blind. His wife told me.”

“She did, did she? Far as I knew, Señora Sanchez hasn't spoken a word about herself or her husband for the five years they've worked at the hotel.”

“Well, perhaps you don't have a Pinkerton lady's touch,” Maddie murmured. “She talks to me. Her name is Rosa.”

“You're a good detective, Maddie.” His voice sounded tight.

“Damn right,” she whispered. “I even found out that Sol Warriner has four granddaughters. By Christmas it might be five.”

Jericho pulled her back into his arms and pressed his face against her hair. “Maddie,” he murmured. “You smell good.”

“Jericho, I did something else while you were gone.”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

She took a slow, deep breath. “I purchased my return ticket to Chicago.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

J
ericho's head came up and he stared at her. “What did you say?”

“I said I purchased—”

His body jerked. “Maddie. Dammit, I don't want this to end.”

She grazed his cheek with her knuckles, moving them slowly over his skin in a light caress. It made his spine shiver.

“It has to end, Jericho. We both know that.”

“Hell's half acre,
I
don't know that. You're not wrong a whole lot, Maddie, but you're damn wrong now.”

She let out a shaky sigh. “It's not like you to avoid facing things. You're burying your head in the—”

He sat up. “You're the one who's not facing things. You could be happy in Smoke River. I know you could.”

She snuggled her head onto his shoulder. “You know no such thing, Jericho. I could be happy with you, perhaps, but not in Smoke River. Just because you—we—want something does not make it necessary.”

“
Necessary!
What's not necessary about caring for each other?”

“Being together,” she said slowly. “Here, in Smoke River.”

“Maddie,” he said, his voice quiet. He rested his forehead against hers. “Maddie, marry me, dammit!”

“Oh, Jericho.” She tipped her face up. Her eyes were shiny, like two wet emeralds. “A part of me, a very large part of me, would like to do just that. But—”

“But? But what?” His heart twisted inside his chest. He curled his fingers around her shoulders. “I love you. How can you not know that?”

“I do know that,” she choked out. “And I love you, too, Jericho. But—but it will not be enough.”

“Oh, for—” He bolted off the bed and tramped back and forth in the small room. “You mean the population of a damn town is more important than—”

“It is not the population size. Well, yes, in a way it is. I would have no life of my own here. For a while I would be content to cook and clean and wash and iron like other women in this town, but I could not do that for the rest of my life. I would feel...trapped.”

He stood with his back to her, saying nothing. What could he say? Even if God sent down the most eloquent words, it would do no good. She was as immovable as a stone statue.

He worked to control his breathing and closed his hands into fists. “You're wrong, Maddie. I think we've got something that's worth fighting for.”

“But it takes more than one, do you not see? In the end I would hurt you, and I could not bear that.”

“What the hell do you think you're doing to me now?” he shouted.

“Now,” she said, her voice shaking, “now I am just disappointing you.”

“It's more than that and you know it.”

“No, it is not. Be fair, Jericho. I have a right to a life on my own terms. You have a life here on your own terms. You keep the peace, capture outlaws, help people.”

“And that's been enough for a good life,” he snapped. “More than enough.”

“There's something else, too,” she said. Her voice was beginning to tremble. “I have always wanted my freedom.”

He opened his mouth, but she stopped his words with a finger against his lips. “And so do you. Not freedom, exactly, but...well, being alone. Being responsible only for yourself.”

A crushing black fear barged into his gut. “No, Maddie. No.”

“Yes. You keep part of yourself hidden, unreachable. And deep down underneath, you like it that way.”

“Up until now.” He was so angry he couldn't think straight. “Maybe now I want something else.”

“People in Smoke River admire you. They respect you. They look to you for, well, justice.”

“Up until now,” he repeated. “They might not like me so much if I kidnapped a lady detective. Or...” He drew a deep breath and tried his damnedest to smile. “If I strangled her.”

She let out a quavery laugh. “You would never do such a thing.”

He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Try me.”

For a while there he'd felt pretty good about himself. And about Maddie and himself. He'd bet all the gold that Wells Fargo could bag up that she cared about him.

He gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Maddie, listen to me.” He opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't say what was inside. He couldn't do it. He closed his eyes and tried anyway.

“Knowing you, Maddie—oh, hell, loving you—has pushed me to—dammit, I don't know how to say this—to be the man I always wanted to be.”

“What could you want to be that you are not already?”

He swallowed. “A man who'd risk admitting that he needed someone. A man who could love someone and not wake up every morning afraid of losing her. I'll fight like hell to hold on to that.”

She just stared at him, her eyes shiny with tears, and then her mouth twisted into a soft “Oh.” Moisture sheened her cheeks, dripped off her chin.

“I never knew my mother or my father,” he said softly. “I could be anybody's kid. But sure as hens lay eggs I'm trying to be my own man. I figured that would be a worthwhile thing in life.”

“Yes, it is,” she said, her voice quiet. Too quiet. “Oh, Jericho, I don't know what else to say.”

“Hell, I feel like I've come in from the cold only to find the damn fire was out. I'm as far away from what I want as an alfalfa field is from the moon.”

“Jericho,” she sobbed. “I—”

“There's one other thing I want to say to you, Maddie, and you're not going to like it much.”

She lifted her face. “Go on.”

He took a deep breath. “Grow up, Maddie. You can't have everything just the way you want it all your life. I want you to stay here in Smoke River with me.”

“I—I can't, Jericho. I just can't.”

They stared at each other a long time. Finally he pulled her into his arms and spoke into her hair. “I don't think I can stand saying goodbye to you with a lot of people watching. I'll meet you at the station right before the train leaves.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
n the morning, Maddie steeled herself to say her farewells. The eastbound train left at noon; she donned her pale green seersucker travel suit, packed up her travel valise and walked out of the Smoke River Hotel for the last time. Her mind was clear, but her legs—and her heart—felt as heavy as the iron anvil at the blacksmith's livery stable.

Saying goodbye was more difficult than she ever thought it could be. She had grown fond of the people in Smoke River—some more than others, of course. And she was finding it hard to leave them. The ache in her heart grew worse with each passing hour.

She would miss Rita's raspy voice in the restaurant each morning. She would miss Verena Forester's gossipy fitting sessions and, while she would always remember her sewing lessons, she knew she could never again bring herself to wear the blue nightgown she had made.

Doc Graham's voice was more gruff than usual when she stopped at Sarah Rose's boardinghouse. “If you ever decide to become a doctor, Maddie, you just skedaddle back out here and take over my practice. I'm getting' too old to keep sewing up the sheriff.”

Sarah Rose bustled out of the kitchen and tearfully folded Maddie into her arms. “You look just beautiful, dearie. And—” she wiped her eyes with her starched gingham apron “—I do admire that marvel of a green hat you're wearin'. What's it made out of, anyway?”

“Silk velvet,” Maddie said, grasping the woman's hand. “And partridge feathers.”

“You shoot the partridge yourself, did you?” Doc Graham queried. “I hear you're a pretty good shot.”

Sarah blew her nose. “As a matter of fact I hear you're pretty good at everything, my dear. Includin' making lemon pies. Oh.” She sniffled into her apron. “I surely do wish you'd stay.”

Maddie looked into the older woman's kindly face and choked back tears.

Rooney Cloudman rose from his chair at the dining table and planted a kiss on one cheek then the other. He didn't say a word, but his eyes looked suspiciously wet. She kissed him right back on both his whiskery cheeks and whispered the Comanche word he'd taught her for
friend.

Sandy arrived and swept up her new carpetbag, bulging with the new walking skirts and shirtwaists Verena had made and the two new nightgowns Maddie had sewed herself. And four bars of special lavender soap Mr. Ness had presented to her at the mercantile earlier that morning.

Sandy swung the bag alongside him as he marched her to the station. “Won't be half as much fun without you here, Miss Maddie. And Jericho—”

“Please,” she interrupted. “Do not say anything about Jericho right now.” Her voice wobbled in a most embarrassing manner.

“Well, it's just that... Well, gosh, it'll be awful dull around here with you bein' gone. If I was sheriff, I'd deputize you in a heartbeat just so you could go bounty-hunting with me.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “You are on your own when it comes to bounties, Sandy. I have never believed in them.”

The deputy scanned the small crowd at the train station. “Wonder where the sheriff is?”

“He will be here,” Maddie said quietly. Oh, goodness, how could she bear to say goodbye to him? Inside her carefully arranged face she gritted her teeth to keep from weeping aloud.

She knew she had to leave Smoke River. She had to, if she wanted to follow her own path, to have the freedom to live the life she had always wanted. But at that moment her throat felt so tight and achy she wondered if she would be able to speak a single word to Jericho when the time came.

Sandy tramped up the two steps to the loading platform. “Here we are, Miss Maddie. Sure do wish—”

She stopped him with a look. He settled her travel bag on the platform close to the shiny iron rails and craned his neck down the tracks, watching for the train.

Against all logic, she hoped it would be late.

Oh, no, she could not wish that. It would just make it harder. She clamped her lips together and fought back a choking sob.

Yes, of course, she did want to return to Chicago. To Mr. Pinkerton and her challenging life as a detective. It was just that, well, it was unexpectedly wrenching to leave Smoke River.

And as for leaving Jericho...

She could not bear to think about that.

She heard the train whistle a long way off, a throaty, mournful cry cutting through the noonday quiet. Sandy peered down the tracks, shading his eyes from the sun. “Here she comes, right on time.”

The locomotive, belching steam and plumes of black smoke, chuffed closer. Four sharp toots announced its arrival, and the engine rolled slowly past the platform, stopping with an ear-splitting squeak so the passengers could board.

Sandy stepped forward and hefted her bag onto the bottom step of the landing. Then he turned toward her and stuck out his hand.

“I'd be pleased to shake your hand, Miss Maddie. You sure proved me wrong.”

Maddie hesitated. “Wrong about what?”

The deputy's Adam's apple bobbed. “Wrong 'bout a woman not having the sand to be a Pinkerton agent. Far as I can see, you're the best detective anybody could want.”

She ignored his proffered hand, stretched up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “And you are a very fine deputy, Sandy. You...you will watch over Jericho, won't you?”

“Oh, sure, ma'am. He'll never know that I been watchin' out for him all this time, and now—”

The sheriff strode down the platform, and Sandy broke off.

* * *

Jericho grasped Maddie's elbow and pulled her away from his deputy. Jehoshaphat, he was jealous of any man who came near her.

She was dressed in green, just like that day she'd arrived, and there was some kind of puffy new hat on her head. He hated it. A fluff of veiling and some feathers on a woman didn't protect her from the sun or the wind or...

At the same time he loved it simply because it was Maddie's.

He'd always remember her in green seersucker or whatever that crinkly-looking fabric was. His gut knotted.

God help him, he couldn't do this.

He walked her away from the crowd then turned her into his arms. “Don't go, Maddie,” he murmured. “For God's sake, don't go.”

She shook her head against his shoulder but did not speak.

The train gave a short warning whistle. Jericho found he could not utter a word, and maybe that was better. Maddie's mind was made up; there was nothing more to say. But in his own mind he refused to believe he would never see her again.

All at once he snaked out his hand and grabbed that silly hat off her head. He tried to smile but couldn't manage it, so he did the only other thing he could do. He kissed her one last time, a long, long kiss he knew he'd never forget.

“I love you, Maddie,” he whispered against her mouth. “I will love you till my heart stops beating.”

She held him tight for an extra few seconds, then lifted her hat out of his hands and turned away. With a flash of white petticoats she climbed onto the iron steps and vanished inside the car.

His entire being went cold.

* * *

Maddie wrestled open the passenger-car door and sank down onto the nearest velvet-upholstered seat. She felt wretched. Simply wretched.

She gazed out the window at the main street of Smoke River with its tidy little stores and the Golden Partridge Saloon, the Smoke River Hotel where she and Jericho...

A jolt of agony slammed into her chest. What was wrong with her? She wanted to return to Chicago, did she not? She wanted to feel useful and valued for her professional skill. Wanted to explore libraries and museums, attend concerts, enjoy the opera. Wanted to...what?

You can't have everything just the way you want it all your life
.

Maddie straightened her spine, feeling her backbone grow as rigid as the flagpole in the town square.

Grow up, Maddie
.
Grow up
.

She kept hearing his voice through the buzzing in her head, an insistent, low burr that would not stop.

Oh, for heaven's sake...

It only takes an hour to like someone
, some poet whose name she could not recall had written.
And a day to love someone. But it takes a lifetime to forget someone
.

She stood up and pushed her foot a step forward.

* * *

The train coupling jolted, and the passenger car began to roll forward. Jericho watched until his eyes blurred, and then he closed his lids against an ache that went all the way down to his boots.

The cars clicked against the rails, picked up speed and began to rattle, but still Jericho did not open his eyes. He couldn't stand watching the train that was taking Maddie away from him fade into the distance and disappear.

The chuffing sound grew fainter and fainter until all he could hear was the low mumble of voices around the station and the cry of a red-tailed hawk overhead. He folded his clenched hands across his body and opened his eyes.

His vision swam and everything looked smeared and indistinct.

Somewhere in front of him a bit of green came into focus. He blinked, swiped one hand across his wet eyes and squinted into the sunshine.

Maddie stood on the other side of the tracks, just stood there, so still she looked like a painting. He must be dreaming.

He gulped in a breath and squinted across the tracks again. Her feathery hat sat slightly askew on her dark hair, and the green striped skirt rippled around her ankles in the breeze.

“Maddie?”

She started across the rails toward him.

He stood looking at her, wondering if he'd gone loco.

“Maddie?”

She released the travel bag in her hand, let it plop down in the middle of the tracks and met him halfway.

“Maddie. Hell, I don't think I believe this.”

“Hush.” She clung to him, kissed him until he was sure he'd taken a bullet in the brain and gone to heaven.

“Maddie,” he rasped against her mouth. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I should think it would be obvious, Sheriff. I am kissing you.”

He choked back a laugh. “Yeah, but why? How come you're not on the train?”

She looked up at him for a long, long time. She sure had a funny expression on her face. A tingle of warmth began to crawl up his spine.

“Jericho, what would you think of a sign over the sheriff's office that says Silver and O'Donnell, Detective Agency?”

He stared at her. “What are you talking about? A detective agency? But that's why you're going back to—”

“Well, yes, it was. But what if my detective agency is not in Chicago? What if it is here?”

“You mean here, in Smoke River? You'd stay in Smoke River?”

With
him?

Yes! He kissed her some more. A lot more. Then he stepped back and looked at her.

“Wait a minute,” he said in a voice he scarcely recognized. “What about a sign that says Silver and Silver, Detective Agency?”

She reached up to put her arms about his neck and lifted her mouth to his.

“Damn right,” she murmured.

And then she kissed him once more, right in front of God and Sandy and all the people gathered at the Smoke River train station.

“Maddie,” he finally whispered against her lips. “Let's go back to the hotel. Maybe Señor Sanchez can find a bathtub big enough for the two of us.”

She kissed him again. Harder. “Damn right,” she said again.