The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (18 page)

“She could have,” Nathan affirmed.

“That’s a lot of help,” Boden scoffed.

“She’s a tough, resourceful woman, Boden,” Nathan said, deciding he’d throw the man a bone.

“She is and that’s why I’m worried.  That’s how—” Boden cut off his words.

“That’s how Laura got killed,” Nathan finished for him. He suddenly lost his jocose manner.  What help could he offer his friend?

“I’m sorry, Nate.  I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Boden said.

“It’s all right, Boden.  I’m not going back to the bottle.”

The two men sat down on sawhorses and looked across the distance at each other. 

Nathan broke the silence. “You’re falling for her, aren’t you?”

Boden stood and began to pace.  “I am and it scares the hell out of me.  I’ve been alone so long, and I know what love can do to a person.  It tears people up.”

“Sometimes. But it can build a person up, too. I never felt better than when I was with Laura.  She was a strong woman, and I wouldn’t have loved her any other way.”  Nathan fought the knot in his throat.

“Well, what do you do when your wife puts herself in harm’s way?”

“You protect her as best you can, and you let her be herself.  A woman like that can’t be stifled.”

“Well, if I get myself shot up and killed, promise me you’ll look out for her,” Boden entreated his friend.

“Don’t tempt me, Boden,” Nathan said, his ornery mood returning.

“Don’t tempt you to what?”

Nathan couldn’t resist.  “Don’t tempt me to shoot you myself.  She’s a right fine woman.  Rounded in all the right places and—”

“Nathan?”  Boden said.

“Hmm?” Nathan asked, trying hard not to laugh.

“Shut up before you get yourself shot,” Boden said even though a smile quirked at the corner of his lips.

“Who said you’d be the faster draw?”

“Nathan, be serious,” Boden mocked before asking intently, “will you look out for
Willow if something happens to me?”

Nathan forced himself to be serious.  “You know I will.”

“Thanks,” Boden said, heading to the door of the tack room and patting his friend on the back as he did so.

Nathan rose and followed, but waited when Boden didn’t open the door immediately.

“You repeat anything I said, and I’ll have to kill you, Nathan.”

“Same goes for me,” Nathan assured Boden as he followed the man out of the room.

NIGHTTIME WAS THE WORST
for Willow.

At night, memories of other nights assailed her.  She’d had lots of practice shutting them out, but recently she found the task more difficult.  She’d nearly lost Boden, and she realized how much she had come to rely on him.  Because of his caring, his protection, she no longer spent every waking moment focused on surviving.

And that meant she had time to let her thoughts roam.  She’d grown confident in her relationship with her husband.

She shifted from her side to her back, and the bed moaned gently beneath her.  Boden didn’t stir.  The man slept hard. Apparently he didn’t fear the dark.  Well, it wasn’t exactly the dark he should be afraid of—it was what lurked in the darkness. It had to be a miracle no criminal had slit his throat while he slept.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she huddled further beneath the covers and slightly closer to her husband.

“Willow, you feelin’ okay?” the question was a low rumble in the dark.  Perhaps, he was just good at pretending to be asleep.

Should she tell him about the nightmares, the fear?

“I’m fine,” she whispered back.

She heard him shift to his back as well.

“Some things are more difficult to face in the silence and darkness of night,” Boden commented in an easy manner.

Willow decided she’d let him make the first move if confessions were to be made.  “Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do.”  A long pause ensued before he spoke again.  “I watched my father beat my mother for years.  I was never strong enough or clever enough to stop him.”

“Your feeling helpless is difficult to believe,” Willow admitted, trying to fathom him a young, defenseless boy.  However, that answered her question as to why he treated her so kindly.

“Willow, every one of us has felt that way at one time or another.  Just some of us more often than others.”

“I think I fall into that ‘more often’ category,” Willow claimed.  She smiled grimly in the darkness.

A hand grasped hers beneath the covers.  The contact startled her, but a reassuring squeeze calmed her.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Need to talk about it?”  He held her hand in a warm, firm grip.

She self-consciously bit her lip. “Maybe.”

His thumb caressed her hand as they lay there.  She felt propelled to speak, so she said the first thing that came to mind, “My father was a loving man, hard at times, but loving.”

“Then how’d you end up with a man like Roberts?”  He bit out the other man’s name.

Willow swallowed hard.  She hadn’t talked to anyone about what the Boss and his men had done to her family.  She wasn’t sure if she could speak of it now.  She had it buried so deep.

“He took me off of my father’s ranch.”  Maybe if she left it at that, he wouldn’t press for details.

Boden sat up in bed and looked down at her in the darkness.  She felt his warmth and resisted lifting a hand to his chest.  Not to push him away.  No, she was curious about how he would feel beneath her hands.  Warm? Reassuring? Strong?

He’ll feel like all the rest of them
, common sense argued.   But Willow’s heart knew he wouldn’t.

“Kidnapped you?” he asked.

Willow shook her head, unable to speak, but realized he couldn’t see her response.  She forced the words out, “He helped a man known as the Boss kill –” she struggled to continue–“my parents and steal our ranch.  Roberts asked to keep me.  The Boss wore a mask so he figured I couldn’t come back and do him harm, so he granted Roberts’ wish.”

“I’ve heard of this Boss.  I caught a few of the men who rode with him at the time.  No one betrayed him.  Then again, few people admitted to knowing who he really was beneath that mask.  And those who knew never named him.  He made them more afraid of him than of the law.  I’ve heard how ruthless he and his gang can be.”

“Ruthless isn’t the half of it.  The things they did to my parents to get them to sign the deed over to them… What they did to the ranch hands who stuck around and put up a fight…”

She stopped speaking, unable to finish her thoughts as the images of what they’d done seared across her memory.  Her body shook, and she was helpless to stop it.  Her family was gone, her father and mother perishing at the whim of the Boss. The Donovan ranch had not been spared his ruthlessness, the Boss and his men slaughtering all but
Willow.

“How old were you?” he asked.

“Fifteen,” she replied.  A girl too innocent to comprehend the terror that awaited her. “Many times, looking back at it all, I wish I’d died that day as well.”

“Even now?” he asked, his voice sounding almost vulnerable in the darkness.

“No, not now,” she said and realized that she meant it.

She sensed his relaxing in the dark before he said, “I can’t believe no one challenged Roberts.”

“He told everyone we were married to keep the concerned citizens of the various towns we drifted through from becoming too curious.  Besides, husbands are allowed to treat their wives as they please, especially in Devils Lake,” she explained.

“I should have figured.  No one helped my mother either, but you were so very young,” he said.

“Tell me about your mother,” she said softly, suddenly unsure if she should ask him to share something so private with her.

“He killed her when I was thirteen,” he said after a long moment.  He had hesitated so long she had been unsure that he would answer her.  “She no longer needed me to act as a buffer between them so I left home.  Neither my father nor I wasted words when I walked out the door.”

“You were even younger than me,” Willow commented.  “I can’t believe your father let you walk out.”

“He didn’t stop me.  I don’t think he could have,” Boden said.  “The only stop I made on my way out of town was at my mother’s grave.  I apologized for failing to protect her, then walked away, swearing never to think of her or my father again.”

“And have you been able to lock your past away?” Willow asked, half hoping he had some secret to keeping the past in the past.

“I’ve thought of them every day since,” he said.

“I’ve thought of Roberts every day, too.  He may have saved my physical life, but he destroyed me in other ways.”  The old anger rose within her.  “If there were any justice in the West, Roberts would have faced the noose.”

“There will be justice,” he said quietly, and she knew he meant it. He caressed her cheek with a callused hand.  “Given all this, no wonder you aren't inclined to trust me.”

“Three long years with Roberts put an end to my easy-trusting nature.”  Willow truly mourned the loss of that part of herself—the part that had expected good to triumph over evil at every turn, the part that had believed people were good when it got right down to it.  If she hadn’t, she was sure she’d have the courage to trust her husband.

“It’s no wonder you flinch when I make sudden moves.”

“Haven’t I gotten better?”

“Yeah, but it still breaks my heart to see you cringe when I raise a hand to get something out of your hair.”

Her fingers tangled with his and offered her comfort.  Her own thumb returned a mere second of pressure.

“Willow?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you just squeeze back?”

She could hear a smile in his voice.

“Maybe.”

He laughed quietly.

They were silent a while longer before Boden asked her a question of his own.  “Why’d French want to see you suffer so badly?”

“I don’t want you misunderstanding who I am,” Willow began.  Fear made her heart pound and her palms sweat.

“You don’t have to explain just now if you don’t want to.”

“Roberts didn’t use me to pay only Brady for his liquor,” Willow pressed on, referring to the barkeeper she and Boden had encountered that first day.  It was either now or later.  “Roberts got favors out of French the same way.  He used my body to gain the sheriff’s favor.”  There, she’d said it.  He could shun her now.  Push her away.  Call her a whore.

“Willow?”

“Yes,” she replied, waiting for his condemnation.  Yeah, he’d known all along she wasn’t lily white, but if he knew how tainted life with Roberts had made her, she feared he’d have nothing to do with her.

Instead, he drew her close after he turned onto his side.  She fit in the curve of his body, and she momentarily stiffened at the close contact.  The gentle brushing of his hand through her hair calmed her.  No other man had ever soothed her.  Wasn’t that a good sign?

“Marrying you was the best thing I’ve ever done.  Every lady deserves the protection of a man who cares for her.”

“I may have been a lady once, Boden, but—”

A finger on her lips silenced her.  “Brett Roberts gave you no choice.  You’d have chosen to be a lady if given the choice.  And that, Willow, makes you a lady.”

“I wish I could believe you,”
Willow said around her tears. “I should have done something different.  Maybe if I’d had the courage to end my own life and stop Roberts’ use of me…”

“Willow, you are worth much more than that.  You couldn’t have helped what he did to you.  You were so young when he took you from your parents.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t help the pain,” Willow admitted.

“I’ve got one more question,
Willow, if that’s all right,” Boden pressed.

“Do I have to answer it?”

“No, but I’d really like to know.”

“All right.”

“Who exactly did Roberts’ sell you to?”

The tone of his question was filled with grit, anger, but the soft touch of his hand and the warmth of his body communicated it wasn’t her who angered him.  Still his question wasn’t easy to answer.

“French and Brady.”

“The sheriff and the barkeeper.  Those are the only two?”

“Well, those are the only two I didn’t manage to elude or strike another bargain with.”

“I’m sorry.  If only I had met you sooner.”

Willow twisted in Boden’s arms and met the whites of his eyes in the darkness.  “I wish you had, too.”

“Someday I want to know exactly how you ended up on the gallows.”

“But not tonight?”

“No, not tonight.”

“You mean you’re not sleeping with one eye open, afraid of a murderer?” Willow questioned, sarcasm evident in her tone.

“Only if I provoke her,” he said, laughter in his voice.  “The only time I make her angry is when I nearly get myself killed.  So, I’m safe enough.”