Lauri Robinson (4 page)

Her fingers grasped onto his ribcage, like she was holding on for dear life. He hoped that was the case, because he certainly was. Ignoring the need to breathe, he tilted his head, and became immersed in the merger. She responded with a fierceness that almost surprised him.

A clunk, clatter, or some other odd and intrusive noise made him come to his senses. Gradually, he lifted his head, slipped his lips from hers. His hands had roamed down to stroke the soft area just below her breasts. He pulled his gaze from his fingers. Her eyes were closed, the long lashes fluttered against the tops of her pink-hued cheeks. All of a sudden his britches felt two sizes too small.

When her lids lifted and those eyes, bluer than anything in Blue Spring, starred at him, her lips formed an
O
, and she gasped.

“Everything all right in there, Adam?” Aunt Birdie asked from somewhere outside the parlor door.

“Yes, yes, everything is just fine. Mrs. Stewart is doing much better.” Adam ran a finger over the smooth skin of her jaw line. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“All right then, I’ll warm your supper.”

“Thank you,” he said.

The soft red of Hannah Stewart’s cheeks had darkened. He’d watched the color rise as he spoke to his aunt. One more nagging thought entered his mind and exited his mouth at almost the same time, “Are you really married?”

She didn’t move a muscle.

“Please say no.” His cheeks burned as he realized he’d whispered the plea aloud.

The enchanting tendrils of hair outlining her face fluttered as she shook her head. “No.”

He let out a deep sigh, and his chest filled with joy. “Who is Mrs. Stewart?”

“Mrs. Stewart was my grandmother. My real name is Hannah Carlton. The boys said I’d be safer, claiming to be a widow, while I traveled alone.”

Adam laid a hand over the ones folded on her lap. He couldn’t control this need to touch her in some small way. “Smart boys, traveling as a married woman is much safer, but I hope you do not become a widow for a very long time.”

“Excuse me?” A look of confusion covered her face.

“For what?” he asked.

“Why would you care if I became a widow?”

He had no choice but to tell the truth. “Because I plan on being your husband and if you become a widow, that would mean I died. That’s also why I can’t arrest you. A man can’t arrest his own wife.”

“What?”

****

An hour later, Hannah watched Adam McBride stroll down the walk, his steps light and carefree. He turned, and as if he knew she watched, tipped his hat to the second floor window. She stepped back. The curtain fell into place as light laughter entered through the open pane. Thank goodness the bed was right behind her; otherwise it would have been the floor she melted on to.

Her mind twirled as fast as a spring tornado. Bits and pieces of thoughts flew in all directions. The man wanted to marry her. Her of all people. Her heart skipped every other beat. The thought of being his wife filled her with new and wondrous vibrations. Nothing like the fear and anger she felt when Nathaniel insisted she marry him.

Common sense returned with a spine tingling chill that caused her eyes to pop open. What had she done now? Adam McBride was no better than Nathaniel Kingston. Oh, sure he was much more handsome, and certainly kinder, but just as Nathaniel Kingston had owned Paradise, Ohio, Adam McBride owned Blue Spring, Kansas.

She twisted to rest a cheek on the pillow and pulled her knees to her chest. It was impossible. She couldn’t marry a man who believed he could own everything in sight. A man who took pleasure in taking what he wanted no matter what the cost was to others. She’d been the brunt of such a man and couldn’t live through it a second time.

No, no it just wouldn’t do. It didn’t matter if Adam McBride said he could clear her name, and Tom and Joe’s. It wasn’t worth it. She could never stand by and watch others being hurt ever again. With a heavy sigh, she sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. Nor did it matter that in the twenty-three years she’d lived on this earth, Adam McBride was the only man she’d fallen in love with.

The kiss had convinced her. She’d had wondering thoughts since arriving in Blue Spring. The way her body reacted to the sheriff, the way her heart skipped a beat then raced faster than a wild fire on the prairie whenever he was near. She’d questioned what it all meant. But when his lips touched hers, when every inch of her body had become consumed with an overwhelming sense of want and need, she’d comprehended she’d fallen in love.

It had to be love because she also found safety in his embrace, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her father held her tight. She squeezed her lids shut, fought against the sting in her eyes as memories came. If only she’d gone to church that morning, she would have been with them, might have seen whatever spooked the horses and caused the wagon to overturn. Mama had died instantly, but Papa had lain there all day. Pinned. Died minutes after the boys found them that night.

She wiped at her wet lashes, shook her head. She’d give anything to be able to turn back the clock to the times of happiness and security—back before Nathaniel Kingston moved to Paradise. Her fingers curled into fists as reminiscences of the days after her parent’s funeral entered her mind.

A few moments later, a deep sigh left her chest. She dried her face with both hands. There was only one thing she could do. Hannah pushed off the bed and pulled her carpet bag from beneath. She ran a hand over the tight stitches of the short, leather strap. Tom had purchased the bag and extra dress for her in Topeka. The remembrance of how her cousins had used the last of their meager money to see she was outfitted before they put her on the stage tugged at her heart.

She moved to the hook near the door, and careful to not crease the dress she’d pressed earlier in the day, tucked it into the bag, along with her extra set of underclothes. If only Adam McBride had been Ralph Anderson or Elwood Jackson, just a simple man—not one out to rule the world.

“No sense crying over spilt milk,” Hannah whispered as she closed the bag, then turned and moved to the window. A million tiny lights decorated the sky, and a soft-yellow colored moon sat amongst the stars like a sheep herder overseeing his flock.

Her gaze settled on the city park across the street. A frown formed. She pressed her forehead against the glass. Good Lord. Adam McBride was worse than Nathaniel Kingston. He was engaged to Abigail Christenson, and here he was kissing her. She pressed both hands to her cheeks. And she’d let him.

If it were storming out she’d expect to see a lightning bolt come down to strike her. Not only was she an outlaw, but she was a wanton—lusting after another woman’s man. She’d even had wishful, fleeting thoughts of marrying the man. Papa and Mama must be rolling in their graves.

Disgusted, she pushed away from the window, strolled to the bed. Well, it wasn’t all her fault. Adam McBride was to blame, too. The man not only owned the town, he thought he could have as many women as he wanted. As the sheriff, he must know having more than one wife was against the law.

She grabbed the bag and set it on the floor with a plop. “I’d like to take a pot shot at you, Sheriff McBride. Oh, not injure you. Just let the bullet scorch the dark hair on your handsome head.” The bedsprings creaked and popped as she flopped onto the mattress.

The night was long; she dozed a small amount now and again. But breathtaking and heart-wrenching dreams, both good and bad, would wake her. The ones of Adam left her lips tingling with the memory of his soft mustache. The ones of Nathaniel left her fighting to find a way out of a dark and dank cell.

When the first pale streaks of gold kissed the horizon, she straightened the covers and picked up her carpet bag. “Well, Hannah Carlton you best get used to living on the run. Once an outlaw, always an outlaw,” she murmured.

The door behind her clicked shut. The sound seemed to split the still air. She paused for a moment. When the silence of the house echoed in her ears for the umpteenth time, she tiptoed across the hall carpet, down the stairs, and out the back door.

Chapter Five

Adam tapped a finger on the counter of the mercantile as Hester Thomas wrapped the daffodil-decorated hat with brown paper. He knew the difference between tulips and daffodils and would prove it to his bride-to-be this morning. His heart flipped, smacking against the wall of his chest. If either of his brothers were near they’d be smiling broader than a tomcat feasting on a fresh mouse, and giving him enough shit to fill the outhouse, just as he had done when old cupid had shot an arrow in each of them. It was pretty amazing, this whole love thing. It made a man feel ten-feet tall and more powerful than a grizzly bear.

Hester handed him the package as the bell above the door behind him sent a chime through the store. “Where’s the sheriff?” a rough voice demanded.

Adam turned. An instant dislike made his spine arch. “You’re looking at him, stranger,” he said to a man dressed in a crisp black suit and carrying a gold walking stick.

“Good, I’m looking for my wife, I have reason to believe she’s been living in this-this,” the man puckered his lips as he pointed the stick toward the street, “decrepit, little town for the past six weeks.”

The brown paper in his hand crinkled beneath tense fingers. “What’s your name?”

“Master Nathaniel Kingston the Third,” the man said with authority.

“Really?” He forced his hand not to reach for the Colt strapped to his hip.

“Yes, really.” Nathaniel Kingston squinted, casting a nasty glare. “My wife, Sheriff, I have traced her—”

“Ain’t got no extra wives hanging around,” Adam interrupted, “but I do have a wanted poster hanging in my office.” He grabbed the back of the man’s expensive suit jacket and thrust him around. Pushing him toward the door, he continued, “That has your likeness on it. Says you’re wanted for kidnapping, thieving, false arrest, and a few other things I can’t think of right now.”

“I dare say, let go of me you, you brute! There is no such poster!” Nathaniel Kingston tried to break loose, but his feeble attempts did little more than make Adam’s hold tighten.

He shoved the man onto the boardwalk. His grasp on the stiff collar forced Kingston to walk on the tips of his toes. “There will be a poster as soon as Jeb down at the paper draws one up.”

“What? What is the meaning of all this? You have no idea who you’re accosting, Sheriff. I’ll have your job! What’s your name?”

“And you,
Master Nathaniel Kingston the Third
, have no idea who you’re dealing with. This isn’t Paradise, Ohio. It’s Blue Spring, Kansas. Here your name doesn’t mean shit, but the McBride name does. And that’s who you are dealing with—Adam McBride the First.”

The man let out a squawk.

“Blue Spring is a good, thriving community. We take care of our own, and don’t take kindly to men the likes of you.” He thrust Kingston into the jailhouse, ignoring the man’s constant protests. When the cell lock clicked and the other man paused his screeching, Adam leaned against the bars to say, “I’m also Hannah Carlton’s soon-to-be husband.”

Kingston choked on his own saliva. He coughed and water filled his eyes. Adam didn’t wait to hear what the sop said next. Instead, he tucked the keys in his pocket and walked out of his office. He’d stop by and tell Jeb about the poster he needed before delivering the hat to Hannah. He smoothed away the wrinkles his grasp had made in the paper, hoping he hadn’t crushed any of the daffodils.

“Adam! Adam, wait up there!”

He turned to see Evan hurrying from the telegraph office.

In a matter of seconds his cousin stood before him on the boardwalk. “I got some information from a bank in Ohio you might be interested in.”

The paper crinkled beneath his fingers again. “What? What is it?”

“Let’s go into your office.” Evan gestured toward the jailhouse.

Adam shook his head. Wasn’t ready for anyone else to know he may have just made a false arrest. “No, let’s go to the bank.”

Evan nodded and silently led the way to his office. Once inside, he settled onto his chair. “I sent a couple telegraphs yesterday, and this morning, I’ve been corresponding back and forth with a banker in Paradise, Ohio.”

Adam set the paper-wrapped hat onto the seat of one chair, grabbed the back of the other with both hands. “And?”

“I had asked for any information about a Hannah Stewart. I discovered a Josephine Hannah Stewart who died several years ago,” he raised both eyebrows, “and left a considerable inheritance to her grand-daughter Hannah Carlton.”

“Oh?”

“There’s more.” Evan laid out several yellow telegraph messages. “Take a seat.”

Adam scratched at his chin, glanced at the package he’d purchased and then moved to sit on the empty seat in front of him. “Go on.”

“It appears a few years ago a bank out of Cincinnati bought out the one in Paradise. At that time, Harold Jones, who had been the banker there for years, was demoted and a new man took his place. Just so happened when I telegraphed them yesterday, the new man, Buford Holmes, was out of town, and Mr. Jones was more than happy to answer my questions.”

“Is this story going somewhere?” Adam asked. Tense and jittery, he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know what Evan was about to say. What would he do if it turned out Hannah Carlton had lied to him? What if she really was married to Kingston as he declared? Or if she was an outlaw? He pulled his hat off his head, scratched his scalp. He’d taken an oath, had to uphold the law.

Evan wrinkled his brows. “Of course it’s going somewhere. Just sit back and listen.”

He did sit back, right after he concluded he’d give up being the sheriff. It was as simple as that. He’d find a place, maybe south of the border, where he and Hannah could live happily ever after.

Evan picked up another piece of paper. “You see, from what Harold Jones remembered, Hannah Carlton didn’t know her grandmother, she died about the same time the girl was born. Josephine, as she went by, left all of her holdings to her grand-daughter, who will inherit most of the town of Paradise on her wedding day. Harold was to be the executer of the will, and sworn to secrecy until the girl married, but Buford Holmes found the will in the bank safe when he took over. A few months later his cousin moved to town, one Nathaniel Kingston the Third, and began to pursue Miss Carlton for her hand in marriage.”