The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (34 page)

“Is she all right?” Nathan asked, empathy in his voice as he knelt beside them.

“Looks like she will be,” Ezra said.

“I’m not sure I can say the same for your pa, Ezra,” Owens said from where he knelt by the elder Boden’s body.

“I’m sorry, Ezra,” Willow said faintly from her place in his arms.

“For what?”  Ezra asked.

“For what you had to do,” Willow said.  She brushed her hand across his face for a moment before her hand fell back to her side.

“If it hadn’t been me, it would have been a hangman’s noose,” Ezra reasoned, but he took no satisfaction in what he’d done.

“Let’s get her out of here,” Nathan suggested.  “Staying in Loretta’s is like asking for trouble.”

Nathan braced
Willow as Ezra moved to a kneeling position.  He lifted her into his arms and held her close.  With Owens to his front and Nathan to his back, Ezra took Willow out of the room and down the stairs.  Loretta’s patrons were oddly quiet as Ezra followed Owens through the main salon.  Hartnett and Peters had disappeared.  Boden had no doubt Owens would find them wherever they chose to hide.  If the marshal didn't, Boden would.  Once outside, he headed for Kern’s Mercantile.  The old coot may not be able to shoot, but he could doctor with the best of them.

WILLOW WOULD HAVE LAUGHED
at the way Ezra hovered over her if it hadn’t been for the pain.  Owens and Nathan waited in the shadows of the room, waiting for Kern to patch her up and watching Ezra’s back so he could focus completely on her.  The men had made her down a few shots of whiskey to dull the pain, but it had done little to keep her from feeling Kern’s ministrations.

“I’m just about done, girl,” Kern said in what she was sure was the most comforting tone of voice he knew.

“Could you hurry up?” Ezra asked.  “Every time you touch her she goes a shade whiter.”

And she wasn’t the only one losing color.  Ezra looked paler than usual himself.  She squeezed her husband’s clammy hand and smiled reassuringly.  “He’s doing the best he can.  I’ll be all right.”

Willow thought perhaps she’d spoken too soon when Kern thumped her on the chest over his handiwork.

“Good as knew,” he said and stepped back.

She tried to keep the grimace from her face.  Ezra already looked like he might pass out if she winced one more time.

“Thank you, Kern,”
Willow said.  “Now would you gentlemen give Ezra and me a moment alone?”

“Sure,
Willow,” Nathan said and led the procession out of the room.

“Are you all right?”  Willow asked from where she sat on Kern’s dining-turned-surgery-table.

“No, I don’t think I am,” Ezra said, releasing her hand and stepping back.  As was his habit, he ran his hands through his hair.  “I almost lost you tonight.”

“But you didn’t,” she said.

“I know and that’s truly a miracle,” he replied.  “If things had gone only a shade different…”

“Ezra come here,”
Willow said.  When he stood in front of her, she added, “I need you to hold me.”

He smiled a weary smile and liquid shimmered in his eyes.  “Now that I can do.”

Instead of hugging her as she’d expected, he lifted her into his arms and sat with her on his lap in a nearby chair. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Willow,” Ezra said into her hair.  “I still can’t believe you attacked an armed man.”

“I’d do it all over again,” Willow said, her tone reinforcing her words.

“I think that’s what scares me the most,” he said on a laugh.

Willow smiled.  “I love you, Ezra.”

He drew her closer.  “I love you too,
Willow.”

A FEW DAYS PASSED
before the reunited couple could head home.

Owens planned to stay in
Devils Lake until he found a suitable sheriff.  He was trying to talk Nathan into taking the job.  Willow had a feeling Owens would talk him into it.  Owens had a way about him, and there was something about Nathan that made her think he was destined for greater things than being Ezra’s foreman. 

Hartnett and Peters were quickly found, and Peters, the lucky dog he was, had survived yet another brush with death.  The two men would face prison, though.  Willow was pretty sure they wouldn't manage to escape serving time behind bars if her husband had anything to say about it.  And as
Willow knew, her husband stood behind his word.

Boden turned on the wagon seat and smiled at her, interrupting her musings.  “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Willow responded absently.  She shifted Lizzie where she rested in her mother’s arms.  Nathan had brought the infant to town.  She would drink nothing but her mother’s milk, and mother and father had missed her.

“Now I know it’s something.  Out with it,” Boden prompted, steering the wagon around a rut in the road.

“How you nearly fainted when Kern patched me up.”  Willow sought to keep a serious face as her husband snorted his disagreement.

“The whiskey you had must have distorted your vision.”

“I guess it took away my sense of touch, too,” Willow couldn’t help but provoke him.  “Your palms sure were sweaty when you held my hand.”

“Woman,” Boden said from deep in his throat. 

Willow ignored his bluster.  “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll keep your weakness a secret.”

“See that you do,” he admonished, failing miserably to look serious.

He kissed her soundly on the mouth, forgetting the men who rode guard around the wagon.

“Can’t you two leave each other alone for a minute?”  Nathan shouted from atop the horse he rode alongside the wagon.

“Don’t seem they can,” one of the cowboys announced.  “I wouldn't be able to either if I had a pretty wife like that.”

“Shut up, Randy.” Nathan turned in his saddle and admonished the young man.

“What?” Randy asked.  “I'm just paying the woman a compliment.”

“Don't you know who her husband is?” Nathan asked.

“Butcher Boden,” Randy said with pride.

Nathan shook his head.  “Too dumb to know when to keep his mouth shut.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know,” Boden muttered for Willow's ears alone.

Willow
's laughter bubbled out of her.  It was good to be married to this man, to have his love.

Dakota Territory, May 1889

W
ILLOW REMOVED HER GARDENING
gloves and stepped quietly into the house.  Since Boden and Lizzie hadn’t accompanied her outside, she had a feeling father had joined daughter in napping.

She tiptoed back to the bedroom.  Sure enough, the pair slept together on the bed.  Boden lay on his back, Lizzie on his chest, Boden’s arm draped over the baby to keep her from rolling off her father and the bed.

There had been a time in her life when she’d never thought to see such peaceful days again.  She sent a prayer heavenward as she crawled into bed with her family.  She thanked God for sending them to her and she asked that He continue to protect them in the coming years.

She curled her back into her husband’s side, sighing when he stretched out an arm in his sleep to curl her closer.  Even in slumber, he looked out for her, cared for her.  The spring day had been remarkably cool, and her husband was remarkably warm.  The wind had picked up and rain threatened.

Lately, Willow had been extremely tired, and she would soon need to tell Boden of the baby.  However, he or she wouldn’t be born for a long while yet. Perhaps she should wait a bit longer before telling him.  The man was fiercely protective. 

Willow had nearly drifted off to sleep when the rain began to pound against the roof.  Evidently, they were in for another day of storms. The sound caused Boden to stir.

“It’s just rain on the roof,” Willow murmured.  She was always amazed at her husband’s ability to hear every little sound even in his sleep.

“Willow?” he whispered, his eyes still closed.

“Hmm?”

“When are you going to tell me about the baby?”

Willow sat up and looked down into her husband’s face.  His eyes were still closed, but he grinned.  “How’d you know?”

He reached up a hand and drew her back down to his side.  “I know your body better than my own.  Plus, you’ve started eating for two again.”

Willow shook her head against his shoulder.  “I love you, Ezra.”

“I love you, too, Willow.”

He promptly went back to sleep after the words were said, but Willow lay awake for a moment, remembering another rainy day.  That day she’d seen a tall, frightening stranger through the crowd, and she’d thought her life was surely over.  Little had she known her life would begin again that day.

It was the perfect day to live.

###

I hope you enjoyed this Desiree Banks Western Romance. Read on for an excerpt from the second novel in the West of Second Chances series.

The Sheriff’s Widow

Chapter One

Devils Lake, Dakota Territories, April 1889

B
LOOD SPURTED FROM SHERIFF
Nathan Taylor’s nose as he fell backward against his own barn wall. Three against one were never good odds. Then again the odds hadn’t been in his favor the whole damn day.

Make that his whole life.

He forced himself to his feet even though his bleeding nose and the impact of his fall made it hard to breathe. He wasn’t sure why he kept fighting, except perhaps the survival instinct surged stronger than he had figured. His six older brothers had pounded survival into him before they’d all moved on, leaving him alone to care for their ailing mother. He’d wanted a piece of his brothers back then, and he planned to take a piece of these men now. He reckoned he could bring down at least one of them before they managed to kill him.

And they would kill him.

The barrel of one of his pistols glinted in the evening light shining through the open barn doors. It lay just out of his reach on the dirt floor beneath his horse’s dancing hooves. Defiance skittered away from the commotion of the fighting men, kicking up dust and turning the tiny particles into a sparkling wall as the dying sun shone through them. Heaven only knew where the other pistol had gotten to.

“Get that horse outta here,” Max Dalton grunted at his younger brother.

Terrance Dalton hurried to do as he’d been asked. He grabbed Defiance by his bridle and jerked the horse toward the open barn door with one hand while he smacked the horse on its rump with his other hand. The gelding thundered into the barnyard.

Nathan reached out a hand to steady himself and shook off the punch Luke, the middle and dumbest Dalton brother, had just pummeled into his nose. He lifted his free arm and swiped at the blood spilling from his nostrils. Black and yellow dots dancing in his vision, blood coursing onto his lips, Nathan attempted a sardonic smile.

“You hit like a girl, Dalton.” Nathan spit blood into a pile of manure.

“What’d you say?” Luke Dalton stalked forward.

“You heard me.” Nathan braced his feet for the impact.

As Luke pulled back his fist, Nathan honed in on the man’s tells, looking for the weaknesses he must have. While Luke was built as thick as an ox, it took him just as long to get going. By the time Luke finally threw his punch, Nathan had effectively determined where he planned to land his bent knuckles.

Nathan shifted and Luke’s heavy fist brushed the stubble on his cheek, sailing past to splinter the stall door behind them, he drove his own punch into Luke’s unguarded abdomen. Air left the man’s lungs in a great whoosh, and he sank to his knees. Max and Terrance surged forward. Nathan turned to face the men.

One down.

Two to go.

“You son of a—” Terrance began only to come to a crashing halt when Nathan’s right flew into his bearded jaw.

Nathan put everything he had into that punch, and he followed it up with his left to make sure the man went down. His knuckles cracked with the impact and his skin pulsed with the bruising. The Daltons
were
built like oxen. Then again, his older brother Ronny had been built the same way, and Nathan had managed to take him down—once.

Behind him, he could hear Luke shuffling in the dirt as he struggled to get to his feet. If Nathan planned to make it out of this, he’d have to make short work of Max Dalton before his brothers managed to come out of their stupors.

He leapt forward only to be stopped by the sound of a hammer cocking back. He stared down the barrel of his own Colt.

“Killing you wouldn’t have taken so long, Sheriff, if you hadn’t insisted on takin’ our guns when we rode into town.” Max’s face contorted in fierce lines; angry spittle emphasized his words. “We got ourselves a right to carry our guns.”

“Unless you and your brothers shoot up Devils Lake every time you all ride through town,” Nathan countered. He had to keep Max talking before the man blew a hole in him with his own pistol. The Daltons weren’t a bright bunch, but they were plenty mean enough to get the job done.

“Shootin’ that little whore was an accident. Hell, she’s Terrance’s favorite.” Max spoke the necessary words, but his grin widened wickedly. “She didn’t press charges, and Kern says she’ll make it. She’ll be on her back again before you know it.”

“Not if I can help it.”  If Nathan had anything to say about it, Mirabel would be in an altogether different line of work when she healed up. He’d been looking for honest work for her over the past week, but marriage to an honest man would be even better and provide her with protection and security. Course, honest men were hard to come by in Devils Lake.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he looked for an escape route or his second pistol. No exit plan. No gun. The loft ladder descended in front of him, just past Max, with the barn door yawning to its right. Stall doors lined the barn on both sides. Most likely he’d get shot no matter which direction he headed.

“Damn you, Taylor. First you take away our guns and now you’re tryin’ to get rid of our whores.” Max spit a stream of tobacco into the dirt. “Then there’s statehood acomin’ and folks are even discussin’ prohibition.”

“Times are changin’, Dalton.” He backed slowly away from the enraged man. “Best plan on changin’ with them.”

“I’m not changin’ a damn thing other than your bein’ around to ruin my way of life.” Max advanced a menacing step.

A slight movement from the loft drew Nathan’s notice. Careful not to turn Max’s attention in that direction, he kept his eyes focused on the threat in front of him even as he watched the small flicker of movement take form on the loft ladder. If it was one of his boys, heaven help him. Much to his surprise and relief, lady’s boots followed by a charcoal riding skirt and an ivory colored blouse came into view.

Not Marshall or Benjamin. A woman.

She descended the loft ladder and stepped onto the barn’s packed dirt floor. She turned to face him, keeping to Max’s back. The light shining through the barn door reflected off her light brown hair and illuminated her ivory blouse. The play of light gave her the look of an angel, an angel beautiful enough to put Lucifer to shame. Angel or not, if she stayed where she was, she was likely to get hurt.

Nathan tilted his head slightly to the right, indicating the barn door.

She shook her head in return.

Beside his older brother, Luke struggled to his feet. “Shoot him already, Max. He damn near killed me!”

Max took aim.

“I’d rather you didn’t shoot him, gentlemen,” the woman suggested in a voice as smooth as whiskey.

The Daltons whirled to face their newest opponent, but sadly neither man was dumb enough to take their eyes completely off of Nathan.

Damnation. What was she doing? Now he wouldn’t be the only casualty of the day. This woman would die with him, and there wouldn’t be a thing he could do to stop it.

Ironic, that. Laura had died on this day five years ago. Was God taunting him? Or were his personal demons finally catching up with him?

The old impotence sucker punched him in the gut, and it hurt worse than the physical blow Luke had landed earlier, more than his brothers’ blows had wounded him all those years ago. He bit back on the old grief and forced himself to focus on the moment. No one was dead yet. All he had to do was find a way out of this for both of them.

“And why’s that?” Max asked, refusing to lower the Colt.

“I’ve come a long way to speak with him.” She strode a few daring steps closer to the Dalton men. Fire crackled in her eyes and her steps were sure. Did she have a death wish or something?

“Hope you can speak with the dead,” Max turned his back to her, “‘cause he’s goin’ to be any second now.”

“Don’t worry none.” Luke struggled to his feet, but still managed a suggestive wink in the woman’s direction. “We’d be glad to talk to you once this is all over.”

If Nathan got himself killed, no doubt these men had a few things worse than death in mind for the Angel. The vivid images of her at their mercy pierced his thoughts, his self-control. Not happening.

“Get out of here!” Nathan urged the woman to make for the barn door.

“Shut up, Taylor,” Luke returned.

The woman brazenly ignored his warning and stepped even closer to the looming danger.

Nope, nothing could be that easy.

“Put the weapon down, sir.” The threat obvious in her tone, in the way she held herself, the woman took another step forward.

If she possessed a weapon, Nathan couldn’t see it, but even though the Dalton brothers discounted her, he saw the determination in her eyes. They blazed. They sparked. They promised. She sure as hellfire meant to see this through. Even idiots like the Daltons should understand that.

“And who’s goin’ to make me?” Max taunted, a dismissive smirk on his face. “The sheriff here?”

Luke and Max joined each other in laughter.

“I am.” Her words drifted over the sound of the brothers’ mirth.

The men heard her, and they laughed all the more. This was his chance. Nathan launched himself forward, his booted feet digging into the dirt. Max whirled, steadying and leveling the Colt on him.

Before his brother could fire, Luke shouted a warning and motioned to the woman who now stood a mere fifteen feet away, knife in hand. As Max swung back, Nathan launched himself at the man’s knees. Simultaneously, the Angel flipped her wrist forward and released a knife from her hand in one smooth, fluid motion. 

Light glinted on the blade flipping end over end through the air just before the whir, whir of the knife came to an abrupt halt. It embedded in Max’s chest with a sickening thud. The woman’s face flinched with grim lines, but she held her ground, watching the deadly tableau unfold before her.

Max pitched forward, and Nathan fell with him to the floor. The Colt flew from the big man’s slack hands and tumbled to Luke’s feet. Luke scooped up the gun and didn’t hesitate to pick his target.

Luke pointed the barrel of his weapon at the Angel.

Hell. No.

Luke shouted a curse in the woman’s direction, and for the first time, the Angel backed up a couple of steps, genuine concern flashing across her intriguing features. Her fear kicked Nathan in the gut. He’d seen that look before, the realization, the understanding, that all would soon be lost.