The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (10 page)

She stalked back into the house then, water pail forgotten.  Boden grinned the whole time he rinsed it out and refilled it.  His wife was beginning to care and that meant she was beginning to trust.

Maybe he’d get a decent night’s rest soon, hopefully sleeping in his own bed again.

BODEN HEADED BACK
TO
the house for the evening and contemplated his sleeping arrangements.  Sleeping on the parlor sofa wasn’t doing his body any good, and for the first time, Ezra wished he’d bothered to furnish the two spare bedrooms.  He hadn’t seen the point in spending money on things he wouldn’t use, but now he wished he hadn’t been so practical.  Boden figured his neck had never been so stiff.  He rotated his neck from side to side, hoping for some relief of the tension.  None came.

He reckoned a relaxing day with a fishing pole would do just the trick. Sadly, there was no time for the indulgence.   Range needed ridden, the barn required repair, yearlings awaited breaking.

His bed would almost be as good for his tense muscles as a day at the lake.  He wished he could join Willow in it, but sleeping at her side while she’d been out of her mind with fever had been one thing.  Sleeping with her now would be quite another.

For one, he didn’t want to ruin the trust she was starting to put in him.  It warmed his heart.

For another, he knew if he lay at her side, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He was all too aware of her as a woman, and he feared he’d be unable to keep from touching her.

He’d spent a lifetime avoiding women who’d thrown themselves at him.  Some had been tempting, others had not.  He’d kept to himself partly out of a need to constantly keep glancing over his shoulder and partly because he’d been able to control his desires where those other women had been concerned.  Mrs. Willow Boden was the woman who would shatter his control.

He couldn’t wait.

But he would.

He walked into his house and realized he’d always dreamed it would one day be a home.  Now he had a chance to make it just that.   Cynicism had ruled his life for far too long.  He wanted to dream again, like he had when he’d been a boy who hadn’t known his father’s violence.

It was time to be human again, to let his legend die.

Yet the realist in him couldn’t help but push the dream aside.  Legends died when another shot them down, then and only then.  He swore under his breath.  How could he raise a family when his past would threaten those he loved?

He shook off his dark thoughts.  He’d always fought for what he wanted.  Damned if he’d stop now.  He’d been willing to die to start his own life, and now he had it.

Butcher Boden would just have to be ruthless enough to gain the family he’d always wanted and keep them safe.

He forced his feet toward the parlor and his extremely short sofa.  He sighed.  No one had ever claimed it was easy being a husband.

SLEEP WOULDN'T COME. EVERY
time Willow drifted off, she startled awake.  Through half-shuttered eyes, she could almost see French in the shadows, lurking, waiting.  Strange thing was she wished Boden was in the room with her.

She hadn’t slept well since her fever broke, and Boden left her alone in his bed.  She hadn’t realized he’d been the warm, safe presence keeping her fears at bay those first few nights.

Memories of his lying next to her had returned over the last few days.  He’d held her when she’d been restless with fever; stroked her hair when she’d whimpered in her sleep.  These recollections came back as still frames of feeling and remembrance.

At first, she’d worried he’d taken advantage of her while she’d slept, but now she knew he’d only spent the nights soothing her, protecting her from herself and her memories.  At night, she was alone and fell prey to her fears and her nightmares.

She wished she trusted him enough to suggest he join her in his bed.  But she feared offering to share the bed would be misinterpreted.  Willow wasn’t willing to share herself yet.

And she worried she never would be.

Her past hadn’t exactly left her desirous of male company.  Would she ever be able to give Boden what a wife gave a husband?

BODEN AWAKENED AND AUTOMATICALLY
reached for his Colt.  He cocked the weapon and waited for the sound that had awakened him.  He counted the seconds and was about to chalk his startled awakening up to his own imaginings when he heard it again.

Willow
was screaming.

Boden took off for the bedroom and rushed into the chamber.  She sat up in bed, her eyes wide open.  Good, she’d awakened from her nightmare.

“Willow,” Boden called quietly into the moonlit room.

No answer.

And then he saw it, the gun she held trained on his bare chest.  He bent ever so slowly, and set his gun on the floor.  He stood again, his hands in the air.  He peered intently through the semi-darkness and met her gaze.  It was essential that he read her look, anticipate her next move.

She looked right through him.  Even in her sleep she fought to defend herself.

He remained motionless for a moment longer, and as he’d hoped, she eventually lowered her weapon and lay back down.  He took a hesitant step forward then, slowly approaching her sleeping form.

She slept, albeit fitfully.  Evidently she suffered from nightmares even when she was without fever.  He looked down to where she held the pistol he’d given her.  He hadn’t expected her to sleep with the thing as though it was a doll, a doll that could kill her.

Well, he wasn’t about to let her sleep with it.  He reached down and pried it from her fingers.  He set it on her nightstand and headed for the door only to be stopped by her renewed murmuring.

The words made little sense, but he heard the pain and hurt there.  And most of all the fear.

He’d slept in bed with her before, and it had comforted her. Would his presence have the same effect now?  She no longer gripped the gun, and it wouldn’t hurt to try.  He crawled in beside her and drew her into his arms.  He ran his fingers through her hair and murmured soothing words in her ear.

In very little time, she snuggled deep into his arms as though she thought them a refuge.  She may not trust him during the day when her defenses were up, but at night she knew he’d never hurt her, only fight to protect her.

He’d wait until she slept before returning to the parlor.  He wouldn’t sleep the night with her until she trusted him enough to ask him.

A
S WILLOW LAY IN
bed somewhere between sleeping and waking, she contemplated her marriage to Boden.  The last few weeks of Willow’s marriage had been more peaceful than any in her adult life.  June had started with stiff limbs and awkward moments, but July saw her and Boden developing a companionable routine.  The men who worked for Boden managed to keep out of her way, and when they were in close proximity, they treated her with respect.

The nightmares continued to haunt her sleep, but they lacked the intensity they’d once had.  A warm presence joining her in bed interrupted the dreams, keeping them from overwhelming her.  The warm presence always left before morning light.

Willow knew Boden soothed away her nightmares while she pretended to sleep.  Truth be told, she wasn’t about to admit that she was awake.   If she were awake, would he demand something more of her?  She wasn’t sure yet, so she wouldn’t tempt him.

Willow
forced herself to fully awaken.  She had taken over the indoor chores and worked to keep the meals tasty and timely and the house spotless.  She didn’t want to give Boden a reason to become vexed with her.  Staying in bed too long might just be the thing to set him off.

So far, he had treated her with kindness, but she still expected some type of outburst to eventually destroy her peace. Nevertheless, it appeared he would never be the tyrant Brett Roberts had been.

She threw the covers off herself and swung her feet over the edge of the bed.  Her body felt relaxed, and she recognized that she had slept soundly through the night.  Her gaze drifted to the other side of the bed as she undid her braid and tousled her hair.  Sure enough, the other pillow was dented.  That explained her restful night.

Her heart light, she turned to look out the window.  To her dismay the sun had fully climbed on the eastern horizon.  She hadn’t slept so late in a very long while.  Boden’s breakfast would be tardy if she didn’t get a move on.

She washed up and dressed in a panic before heading out to the kitchen.  She prayed she had enough time to get breakfast on the table for him.  Maybe chores would take him longer this morning than they usually did.  She hurriedly began assembling pancake batter only to discover there were no eggs in the pantry or the cellar.

“I’m in for it today,” she murmured before grabbing a nearby bucket and heading for the chicken coop.

If there was one thing she knew, it was that men didn’t like to be kept waiting, especially where their food was concerned.

THE CHORES HADN'T TAKEN
Boden long at all.  That could have something to do with his getting out of bed abnormally early.  He hadn’t wanted to make Willow uncomfortable, and he’d stuck to his routine of getting up well before daybreak to avoid embarrassing her.  He was going to bed late and getting up before the sky was even gray.

He put his sleepless hours to good use, though.  Today he’d spent the early morning working with a skittish filly the hands had been unable to break.  Boden had watched them try on several occasions, and their attempts had been almost comical.  He’d decided to take over the breaking before their incompetence ruined her.

He’d taken the filly into the round pen, a small circular corral made for working with horses.  Inside, he’d let her loose and every time he’d attempted to get close, she’d run from him, kicking up her heels in protest of his overtures.  He hadn’t given up, though, because sooner or later she’d give in and follow him around the pen.

The sun had peaked over the eastern horizon before she finally allowed him near.  His patience had paid off in that the filly followed him around the pen, stopping when he stopped, turning when he turned.  And most importantly, when she turned, she turned toward him, a sign the horse trusted him.

As he walked up the hill to his home, he realized his bride was like a skittish filly. She was beginning to let him near and to move any faster at this point would prove disastrous.  No matter how much he wanted a full night’s rest, he’d wait until she turned to him.  Yep, a man had to take it slow with something he really wanted.  And he really wanted her. He’d keep dancing with her, approaching and backing away until she realized she could trust him.

The very object of his thoughts interrupted his musings just then.  Boden watched his bride scurry across the yard toward the chicken coop.  From the looks of things, she’d overslept and now rushed to get his breakfast on the table. Hadn’t he seen his mother scurry about to avoid his father’s temper a hundred times?

With long strides, he headed uphill and in the direction of the coop.  He’d help her gather the eggs and make breakfast.  Perhaps that would put her fears to rest.

Noting the sound of squawking chickens, he ducked his tall frame low and entered the chicken coop.  It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the shadows.  Once they did, he spotted
Willow through the flying dust and feathers.  Still partially stooped, he walked her way, and without thinking, he tried to take the basket from her hand.

She must not have heard him enter the coop over the racket the chickens were making. She jumped, causing the basket of eggs to fly out of her hands.  Basket and eggs flew into the air and Boden realized he was about to wear shells, whites, and yokes.  He noted the exact moment the eggs reached as high as they would go before beginning their descent.  Something about their falling through the air fascinated him, and he could not look away. Completely understanding the rule that what goes up must come down, he knew he should move, but he couldn’t seem to.

He paid the price for his inaction as the eggs came down on his face, shoulders, and boots.  The sudden movements of the newlyweds also propelled the chickens into a tizzy, sending feathers flying and sticking to his egg-covered person.

While he might not be able to see his wife through the yoke covering his eyes, he heard her deep intake of breath.  He swiped at his face, wanting to see her reaction.  Her eyes were comically enlarged as she took in his egged and feathered figure.  But there was no mirth in their depths, only fear.  Boden supposed she would move away from him if the close confines of the coop didn’t require that she stay close.

He noticed a feather in her hair and lifted his hand to remove it, but stopped when she braced herself.  It was obvious she expected him to beat her despite his prior reassurances.  He’d moved swiftly to remove the feather, but slowed his hand to finish its journey.  He freed the feather and let it drift to the ground, allowing her time to school her expression, an expression he’d seen so many years ago.  He’d watched his father beat that look into his mother’s eyes.   As a little boy, Ezra had been powerless to help her, but now he could help this woman who stood before him.

“Always heard eggs were good for the complexion.” He smiled at her and instantly regretted it.  He had egg all over his face, including his lips.

His comment seemed to do the trick, however, for she allowed a small laugh to escape.

“My father would have said something like that,” she said, smiling up at him even though her eyes were clouded with tears.

“Your father must have had a sense of humor,” Boden continued, noting how the memory of her father made her both happy and sad.

“He did,” she answered.  To hide her tears, she turned away from him and busied herself with picking up the basket.

“What happened to him?” Boden couldn’t help but ask.

“He was killed.” She answered him, but her body language said she didn’t want to discuss her family.

He decided to lighten the mood again.  “I guess I shouldn’t sneak up on you.  Good thing you’re not wearing a pair of these,” he said, patting his pistols.  “You’d have gotten me with bullets instead of eggs.”

She sent a teary smile his way, and Boden gave her time to collect her emotions.  “I’m going to clean up,” he said, turning to leave the coop.  “I’ll see you back at the house.”

He would have left then, but she stopped him with “Breakfast isn’t ready yet.”

“I’ll help you with it when you get back with the eggs.”

She nodded, looking as though she had escaped a second death sentence.

AFTER WASHING UP AND
eating breakfast, Boden left the house to check on the bull he’d just purchased.  The animal was the sire his stock needed.  By midmorning he decided it was time to ride out and check on a portion of the herd.  He wanted to be sure they were getting enough grass and water, and that they were staying primarily on his range.

He also planned to ask
Willow to join him.  He wasn’t all that comfortable leaving her alone, especially with French’s little visit a few weeks ago.  Besides, she was likely to work herself to death if he left her behind.  The woman could hardly find much more to clean, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

He made plenty of noise as he came into the house.  He didn’t want a repeat of what had happened that morning.  It had been eggs in the morning, but it could be hot stew at noon.

He found his wife in the kitchen on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor. He wasn’t sure why.  She’d scrubbed the thing yesterday.

“Pretty soon we won’t have anything but dirt beneath our feet,” he joked.

“It is dirty, isn’t it?” she questioned absentmindedly.  “I can’t seem to get it all up.”

He watched her for a moment.  She hadn’t gotten his joke, the one that encouraged her to stop all of the scrubbing before she wore away the wood floor.  No, she just kept placing her brush in the bucket and returning her red hands to its handle.

Boden decided he needed to take the direct approach.  She had to understand he wouldn’t beat her if the house wasn’t spotless.

He knelt in front of her and took the brush out of her hands.

She looked up at him, wariness in her eyes.  Willow moved to her knees as well.  “I’m not doing a good enough job?”

Boden harrumphed.  “The house looks better now than it did right after I built it.”

“Then, what’s wrong?” she murmured.

“You’ll work yourself into an early grave at this rate,” he explained.  “Things don’t have to be perfect.”

“They don’t?” she questioned, her eyes rounded with disbelief.

“No.” He offered her his hand as he stood.

“I’d appreciate it if you rode out with me today.  I’ve got some cattle to check on, and I could use your help and your company.”

“All right.”  Willow stood, her hand ensconced in his.

“I’ve got an extra set of gloves and a hat on the dresser.  Go get them, will you?  I’ll get the horses.”

She scurried to do as he asked, and Boden hoped the nervous pace of her walk would soon be a thing of the past.  It drove him crazy to see her shy from him.  It was a continual reminder of the mistreatment she had endured, a mistreatment no woman should have to face.

WILLOW
WAITED FOR BODEN
on the porch and marveled at the heat of the July day.  Perspiration dotted her forehead.  She hurried down the stairs and up to Kitty, the horse Boden had saddled for her.  Boden held the reins of both horses as he waited alongside the porch.

Willow
took the reins he held out to her and moved to climb atop Kitty. Holding a hat, a pair of gloves, and a sack of beef sandwiches, she wondered how she would mount up. But before she could solve her dilemma, a strong pair of hands grasped her waist and lifted her high.

“Thank you.” She looked down into his upturned face and noticed a bit of yoke he’d missed near his ear.  She reached a hand down and removed it.  “I think you missed a bit.”

It was his turn to say, “Thank you.” He punctuated the statement with a commiserating smile.

“You’re welcome,” she replied.  Lord, he was a handsome man. In addition to that, he’d gotten her out of the house.  She loved the out of doors, and she loved to ride.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said once he mounted up beside her.

“Mind?” she questioned, confused.

“Well, it’s a rather hot day to ride,” he said, shrugging.

“Hot or otherwise, it’s nice to be outside,” she confessed.

“It is.”

“I’ve always liked it,” she said.

“I reckon you should spend more time outside if you like it,” he said as he led the way out of the barnyard.  “The house will keep when the livestock won’t.”

“I’d love to,” she said, then seemed to catch herself, “if it’s all right with you.”

“Willow, you don’t need my permission to go outside.”  He took the hat out of her hands and placed it on her head. He tipped the front down to better shade her eyes.  “There, you’re looking like a cowgirl now.  My spare hat looks good on you.”

Over the last few weeks, his expressions had opened to her, allowing her to see more clearly how he felt.  Now
Willow thought he looked pleased with himself.  And he should be.  He treated her kindly, and she figured there was something besides bounty hunting in his past, something that had put gentleness and kindness at his core.  She wondered more and more about him.  There was one question she'd been meaning to ask him, and she figured it was a safe enough question to ask.