The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (23 page)

He bustled over to the store door and put up his ‘out to lunch’ sign. “Haven’t had a decent conversation with anyone in a long while.”  Kern rambled as he bustled to the back of the store.  Neither
Willow nor Boden could get a word in edgewise.

“Seems he’s pretty good at one-sided conversations,” Boden whispered in her ear as he put an arm around her shoulder and followed after Kern.

“Been hearing rumors of statehood,” Kern said as he checked the contents of various pots.  “A lot of men are sure to be excited about getting their hands on political power.  I guess I wouldn’t mind a little more law and order coming to the state. Couldn’t hurt none.  Look what nearly happened to Willow here.”

Boden made to comment, but Kern had already moved on.  “Heard French is still gunnin’ for Willow.  Best get her in and out of town as fast as you can.  I’d hate to have her in the middle of a shootout.”

With that, he plopped their food on his kitchen table and continued to talk around mouthfuls.

They never did get in many words speaking with Kern.  He pretty much kept the conversation going all on his own. Lunch was good though–chipped beef over potatoes.  Simple, but filling.

“Thank you for lunch, Kern,” Boden said as they returned to the storefront, and the shopkeeper re-opened for business.

“No problem.  You’ve kept
Willow from harm.  That’s enough thanks for me,” Kern said, winking at Willow.  “He takin’ good care of you?”

“Yes,”
Willow responded quietly.

With that, the three began putting together the order for the Box B.  They were nearly finished when
Willow realized she couldn’t wait much longer to visit the outhouse.  Another result of her pregnancy.

Boden had asked her to stay close, but Kern’s outhouse stood near the back of the store.  Besides, it would be humiliating for Boden to accompany her.

Her mind made up, Willow quietly exited the mercantile.  Neither man noticed her departure, and for that she was grateful.  There would be no embarrassing explanations.

Once her needs were seen to,
Willow headed toward the back door of the store.  She reached for the door handle just as a hand closed over her mouth, and an arm snaked around her waist.

“Keep quiet or I’ll kill you where you stand,” French hissed in her ear.  “Don’t forget I owe you one for that day at the lake.”

Willow obeyed him, fearing that if she struggled the baby would be hurt.  The sheriff certainly hadn’t appreciated his humiliation at the lake, especially at her hands.  French made his way into the alley between Kern’s Mercantile and another store.

“I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth.  Don’t make a sound.”

He didn’t have to explain he’d hurt her if she cried out.

“How are you two gettin’ along?”  French asked.  “He like the prize he won?”

Willow swallowed hard.

“Relax,
Willow,” French said.  “Let’s just have us a nice quiet talk.  And remember, I could have a bullet through your hide before he could hear you scream.  But all that aside, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Can't say as I can say the same, French,”
Willow said coolly.

“I see your mouth is as smart as always,” Sheriff French returned.  “But if I were to be honest, it’s your body I’ve been missin’.”

Willow blanched.

“Your husband know about us?” he continued.

She didn’t answer him.

He went on.  “Better hope Boden watches his back. Hate to see you alone and defenseless anytime soon.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Willow said with mock sincerity.  Then, through clenched teeth, “What do you want?”

“I’ve been told to keep an eye on you, to kill you when the moment’s right,” French began as he pressed his body along hers, trapping her between himself and the alley wall.

Willow turned her head to the side, escaping his mouth.  However, he placed his lips on her neck instead.

“But I’d like to have a little fun with you first.  You remember how much fun I can be, don’t you?” French whispered in her ear.  “But there is something different between us.”

He reached a hand down between them and splayed his hand over her belly.  “Would seem he’s feedin’ you well.”

Willow clasped his hand and tried to remove it, but she was powerless to do so.  He only pressed his hand harder to her middle.

“No, you’re breedin’ that’s it,” French seemed awed by his deduction.  “Yep, you’re just puttin’ the weight on in your middle.”

Willow
remained silent.

“I’ll bet it’s not Boden’s.  It’s probably mine.” French stroked her belly, making a mockery of a loving caress. “Or maybe it’s not.  Roberts sold you to so many men.”

She shrank from the truth of his words, and his eyes gleamed as he read the hurt in her eyes.

Thankfully, his attention drifted to her body again, and he left her belly and her baby alone.  Her lunch threatened to come up as French’s touch threatened becoming more personal.

“Willow,” an anxious, male voice shouted.

It was Boden.

That got French’s attention.  He stepped away from her.  “He won’t always be around to protect you, Willow.  Someone’s paying a mighty sum to see you dead, and I plan to collect.”

He scurried away, leaving
Willow with shaking legs and teary eyes.  She slid down the alley wall and fought to reclaim her strength.  French’s words echoed through her mind.  Who would want to kill her?

Boden called her name again, and Willow answered him this time.

“Here.  Boden, I’m here,” Willow called.

Footsteps closed in on her, and she glanced to the back of the alley.  Boden ran in her direction, and Willow knew with complete clarity that he would never be, could never be, anything like French or Roberts.

He knelt before her in an instant.

“Are you all right?  What happened?” Boden asked as he joined her on the ground and drew her into his embrace.

“French,” was the single word she managed.

“That son of a…” Boden exclaimed under his breath, the last word trailing off.  “What’d he do?  If he hurt you–”

“He handled me a bit, “ Willow said, her emotions under control again.  She began to tell her husband of the threat to her life, but he spoke first.

“He’s a dead man,” Boden said as he started up.

Willow snagged his arm from where she knelt on the ground.  “Please, Boden, not today.  I just want to go home.”

And she didn’t want her husband dead.  She didn’t doubt Boden was a better marksman or fighter, but French wouldn’t fight fair.  She couldn’t allow Boden to get killed on her behalf.

He looked to where she held his arm and sighed.  “Okay, but he’ll pay one day soon.”

And
Willow knew French would.

Boden offered her his arm, and Willow reached up to take it.  She made an attempt to rise, but the skirts of her dress had become tangled in her legs.  Her foot caught on the front of her dress and pulled it tight against her front.  She moved to untangle herself, but she was too late. He had already noticed the roundness of her belly.

Boden went to his knees in front of her.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Fear made her hesitate.  Would he hate her?  Her child?  Unconsciously, she placed a hand on her abdomen.  It felt firm and noticeably rounded.  The child hadn't even been born yet, and she already feared for it.  Her heartbeat accelerated.

“I’ve already brought enough complications to this marriage.  I didn’t want to bring another one.”

“I would have realized your condition sooner or later,
Willow.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t want me anymore, Boden,”
Willow returned, her head bowed.

He remained kneeling in front of her.  “A pregnancy you had no control over isn’t going to make me desert you.”

“I’m sorry.”

He put a bent index finger beneath her chin and raised it.  “For what?”

“Not trusting you.  Also because the baby’s not yours,” Willow explained around a lump in her throat.  “Oh, how I wished it were yours.”

He didn’t speak right away; instead, he dropped a hand to her stomach.  She looked down at it.  The tan fingers gently spread across her belly, covering the small roundness.  His was a strong, protective hand.  Her fear subsided.

“It is mine,” Ezra asserted.  “At least, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to be the baby’s father.”

Tears threatened.  Relief also poured through her.  She began to cry.

He placed his arms around her, holding her close.

THE RIDE BACK TO
the Box B began quietly.  Neither Boden nor Willow had much to say to each other, each occupied with their own thoughts.

Boden studied the woman riding beside him.  Her face was amazingly soft despite the hardships she had faced in her life.  Actually, much of her remained untainted by the actions taken against her.  She treated him kindly, kissed him innocently, and worked endlessly.  Yet, he knew she kept much of herself in reserve, protected her inner thoughts and desires. He couldn’t blame her for her defenses, yet he wanted to be allowed past them.

After a while, she cast a glance his way, and Boden realized he must have been staring.  “I’m sorry to stare, Willow, but I have to be honest, you fascinate me.”

Willow
shook her head, a slight smile creasing her lips.  “You’re something, Ezra Boden.”

Yeah, I’m something all right
, Boden thought. 
What I am is worse than a besotted schoolboy
.  Boden returned his attention to the road stretching out in front of his horse.  “You know I think that’s the first time you’ve said my first name.  Here I didn’t even think you knew it.”

“Would you rather I didn’t use your first name?”

“Actually, it’s been a long while since anyone called me Ezra.  It’s been Boden or Butcher for much longer.”  He looked at her again.  “I like your calling me Ezra.”

“Well, maybe I’ll start calling you that,” Willow returned, shifting in the saddle.

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes.”

Ezra contemplated his next question for some time before he asked it.  He didn’t want to offend her, but he also wanted to know.  “How do you feel about the baby?”

Willow
adjusted her seat in the saddle.  “What do you mean?”

Ezra glanced askance at her.  “I mean, are you happy for it or would you rather you weren’t pregnant?”

“How’s a woman supposed to answer that?” she questioned.

“Honestly,” Ezra said and shrugged in an attempt to diffuse the serious nature of his question.

“I want the part of the baby that’s mine,” Willow began, “but I’m scared of the part that isn't.”

“That makes sense,” Ezra commented.

“It does?”

“Mm-hmm.  I’ve always feared the part of myself that’s my father.”  Ezra decided it was time to share a part of himself.
Willow put so much of herself on the line in their relationship.

“Why?”

“He treated my mother poorly.”  That was an understatement.

“Like Roberts treated me?”
Willow asked.

She sought clarification.  He would give it to her.  “Well, not exactly.  In some ways my father treated my mother better than Roberts treated you.”

The memory of the day he’d come home from school early emerged from hiding.  He'd walked in to his home only to hear the sounds of his mother’s screams behind closed bedroom doors. The man behind those doors had been his father, but he’d been as mean as any French or Roberts.  Boden forcibly shoved the thought back.

Willow
shifted in her saddle again. She had been doing an awful lot of that. The woman couldn’t sit still. It was then he realized his mistake.

“Are you all right? You most likely shouldn’t be doing so much riding in your condition.”

“I’m just a bit achy.  I haven’t ridden this much in a while.  My legs are a little sore.”

He reined Beast to a stop and waited for Willow to stop Reliance.  He jumped to the ground and helped his wife down as well.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked.

“To stretch our legs a while and let the horses rest.”

Willow looked up into his eyes.  “That sounds like a good idea.”

Boden let his hands rest on
Willow’s waist longer than necessary. She looked so small in his rough, muscled hands. A man could hold so much power over such a delicate woman. It struck him anew that she would have possessed little power over men like French or James, just as his mother had possessed little power over his father.

“Ezra, is there something wrong?”  The concern in her voice made him smile.  She worried for him.

“Nothing, Willow.”  He let go of her.

She took a step away and teetered.  He reached out a long arm and snaked her around the waist again.

“Are you sure you’re just achy?”