Outlaw's Bride (25 page)

Mattie took a step toward him, but she stopped when he turned stiffly.

“If I'd quit my job like she asked, she wouldn't be dead,” Clint said. “It was my fault, Mattie, and I don't have a choice in this. I owe her for not loving her enough.”

Mattie crossed her arms to hide her trembling. She didn't know what to say. She'd believed him to be a gunslinger and he'd been a lawman, like her husband.

And he'd loved his job more than his wife, just as Jason had.

“I should've told you before, but there are some things a man has a hard time admitting,” he said. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Even if I find Emily's killer, I can't promise I'd be able to protect you and Andy, any more than I protected her.”

Mattie bit her lower lip. They didn't need his promise—they just needed him. “I didn't ask for any promises.”

He smiled sadly. “No, you didn't.”

Mattie drew away. “I'd better get breakfast ready before Herman comes in.”

She felt Clint's gaze on her back, but she didn't dare look at him for fear he'd see the lie in her eyes. Though she hadn't asked for a promise in so many words, she had with something more precious. And his actions last night had told her he had strong feelings for her, too—though they weren't powerful enough to make him break another promise.

But he wouldn't be the man she loved, if he did.

Clint finished his coffee. “I'm going to check on Dakota.”

Mattie nodded, but didn't turn to watch him leave.

The back door opened as Mattie was putting the bacon and eggs on the table. She glanced up, expecting to see Clint, but it was Herman who shuffled in. Disappointment brought a frown to her lips. “Morning, Herman.”

The old man frowned. “Don't look so happy to see me.”

Mattie blinked, then chastised herself for being so selfish and smiled. “I'm sorry, Herman. I was thinking.”

“He's still down by the barn.”

She smiled self-consciously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yep.” Herman plopped himself in his regular chair. “Wearin' your heart on your sleeve ain't healthy, Mattie. Have you told him?”

“He knows.” She glanced out the window toward the corral, then added quietly, “In his own way, he knows.”

“Some men are fools, Mattie. And I can say that 'cause I'm one myself.”

“So you're finally admitting it?” she teased.

Herman snorted. “Respect your elders, girl.” He squinted at Mattie. “You ever wonder why I stuck around here?”

“You liked Andy and me?”

“No, before you come here.”

Mattie sat across the table from him. “Why?”

“Ruth. I loved her since the day I saw her, forty-eight years ago. Only problem was, she was married to another man.”

Mattie's mouth dropped open. A few moments later, she remembered to close it. “Did she know?”

“She belonged to another man.”

“That's not what I asked.”

Herman took a deep breath and his faded eyes glistened with moisture. “She knew.” He rubbed his nose. “We had one night together in all the years we loved each other, and I ain't never forgot that time.”

Mattie kept her expression calm. Did he suspect what had happened between herself and Clint?

“Why didn't you leave? It must've hurt terribly to see her with another man.”

“It woulda hurt worse if I never saw her again. When her husband died, I asked her to marry me.” Herman tried to smile but failed. “You know what she said?”

Mattie shook her head.

“She said she didn't want to burden me with an invalid wife.” Herman sniffed. “Hell, it didn't matter to me if'n she was bedridden or not. I loved her, but she was a proud woman. Never gave an inch.” His hunched shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “If you love him, don't let your pride get in your way.”

Mattie wanted nothing more than for Clint to stay, but she loved him too much to ask. “It's
his
pride that's in the way, and I won't ask him to stay if he doesn't want to.”

Herman reached across the table and laid a blue-veined hand on hers. “Just like Ruth—too pigheaded to see what's right in front of you.” He squeezed her hand. “I only wanna see you happy before I join her.”

Mattie's eyes filled with tears and she laid her hand on his. “With any luck, by the time you join Ruth, Kevin and I will be happily married.”

“Married, maybe. Happy?” He shook his head. “I ain't so sure about that.”

Mattie didn't know how to deny his words without lying.

Clint's lean figure appeared in the doorway and Mattie's breath caught. Had he heard their conversation?

“I hoped you saved some food for me,” Clint said.

“Why would we do that?” Herman asked. “Seems to me if you don't show at the table on time, you're plumb out of luck.”

“We just sat down,” Mattie said.

“Good.” Clint slid his hat off to hang down his back, then sank into a chair. “How're you feeling this morning?” he asked Herman.

“I'd be feelin' better if the world wasn't so full of stubborn cusses,” Herman replied with a scowl.

Startled, Clint glanced at Mattie in question.

“He woke up on the wrong side of bed,” she said.

“At least I was in my own bed,” Herman grumbled.

Mattie choked on her coffee and her face flamed. So Herman wasn't nearly as oblivious as he made out.

Clint narrowed his eyes at the old man. “Our business isn't any of yours.”

“Don't go gettin' all huffy. I ain't one to blab around town and start tongues a-waggin'.” Herman aimed his fork at Clint. “'Sides, someone has to stick around to make sure Mattie's good name ain't run through the mud.”

Mattie sidled a glance at Clint and a blush stained his cheeks. Herman's pointed remark struck home with blunt accuracy. But Mattie didn't need anyone defending her.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I did it before I met either of you, so let's just eat and forget this conversation ever happened,” she said.

Herman grumbled but kept his counsel to himself. Clint cast Mattie a puzzled look, but also remained quiet.

They finished breakfast in strained silence, then Mattie gathered the dirty plates.

“Ma!” Andy hollered. “Can I get up?”

Mattie's gaze caught Clint's, then she hurried to the bottom of the stairs and called up, “You stay in bed. I'll bring your breakfast up.”

“I'll take it up,” Clint offered when Mattie returned to the kitchen. “I have to say good-bye to him anyhow.”

She nodded quickly and filled a plate with bacon, eggs, and toast, then handed the dish and a glass of milk to Clint. “Thank you.”

He nodded, took the breakfast from her, and headed to the staircase. She listened to his footsteps up the stairs, her heart squeezing with sorrow.

Clint climbed the steps, feeling as if he were ascending a gallows. He dreaded saying good-bye to the boy nearly as much as he dreaded saying farewell to Mattie.

He entered the room and Andy brightened. “Mr. Beaudry.”

“Mornin', sleepyhead,” Clint said, with a fond smile.

“I haven't slept this late ever,” Andy admitted. “Is Ma still mad at me?”

“She was never mad at you, just worried.”

Andy let out a relieved sigh. “I suppose, but she shouldn't worry so much. It's not like I'm a baby anymore.”

“I don't think mothers ever stop worrying about their children. I know for a fact my ma still worries about me.”

“But you're a grown-up.”

Clint shrugged. “It's a woman thing. I don't think we're supposed to understand.” He set Andy's plate and glass of milk on the nightstand. “Why don't you sit up so you can eat?”

He helped the boy up and arranged the pillows behind his back. “How does that feel?”

“Okay. Why can't I get up and eat downstairs?” Andy asked.

“You're supposed to stay off that ankle, remember?”

He moved his leg under the blankets. “But it feels okay.”

“That's because you're not standing on it. Remember what Dr. Murphy told you—no running around or fishing for a few days.”

Andy wrinkled his nose. “He's worse than Ma.”

Clint balanced Andy's plate on the boy's lap. “Is that all right?”

Andy nodded and picked up his fork, then shoveled some egg into his mouth.

“Why do you think Dr. Murphy is worse than your mother?” Clint asked curiously.

Andy rolled his eyes as he took a bit of bacon. “He thinks a sliver is gonna kill me.”

Clint chuckled. “He's a doctor. It's his job to worry about people.”

“I s'pose.” The boy paused. “Ma wants to marry him.”

Jealousy sucker-punched Clint and he exhaled sharply. Though he knew the doctor would make a better husband than him, he couldn't help the possessiveness that washed through him. “He's a good man.”

“I guess.” Andy didn't sound convinced.

“He'll take care of you and your mother better than I could,” Clint said, uncertain if he was trying to assure himself or Andy.

The boy didn't say anything, but the long face told Clint plenty. He watched the boy clean up his plate, then took the empty dish and set it back on the nightstand.

Clint laid a hand on the boy's thin shoulder. “I'm leaving today.”

Andy jerked his head up, his eyes wide. “Why?”

The disappointment in the boy's expression dropped a lead ball in Clint's gut. “I have something to take care of.”

“Then you'll come back?” Hope lit his face.

Clint could have lied, but to give the boy false hope would have been unfair. “I doubt it.”

Andy's expression tumbled and his lower lip trembled. “I don't want you to go.”

Damn, the kid made him feel like shit. “If I had a choice, I'd stay, but I don't. I have to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to.”
You're a coward, Beaudry.
He met the boy's gaze. “I'll miss you.”

Anger filled Andy's expression for a moment, then it crumbled into sadness. “I'll miss you, too.”

Clint didn't know who made the first move, but he hugged the boy close to his chest. For a long moment, they remained locked in the embrace, then Andy pulled away.

A single tear tracked down the boy's face. “Be careful, Mr. Beaudry,” he said solemnly.

When Clint had arrived in Green Valley four weeks ago, he never suspected he'd be leaving a large part of himself behind when he continued on.

“I will. You're big enough to help your mother around here now,” Clint said, barely able to squeeze the words past the lump in his throat.

Andy nodded. “Once I'm better, I'll help her more. I promise.”

Clint pushed to his feet and stared into the hazel eyes of Mattie's son, which held a maturity he'd never noticed before. Maybe it was his close brush with death yesterday, or the realization that he was becoming a man and his mother needed him.

Or maybe both.

“Good-bye, Andy,” he said.

“'Bye, Mr. Beaudry,” Andy said, his voice shaky.

Clint forced his feet to carry him out of the boy's room—and out of his life forever.

C
lint entered his room for the last time and paused. It suddenly felt foreign to him. He didn't belong here. Not anymore.

He pulled his saddlebags out from under the bed and jerked open the dresser drawer that contained his few belongings. He stuffed his extra underwear and socks into one side of the saddlebags, then tightened the straps and reached for his gun in the bottom of the drawer.