The Lawman's Little Surprise (16 page)

Even the bleakness of winter held its own beauty, she thought with a sigh as she turned off the dirt road and onto the highway to drive on toward town. Knowing Morgan would be on duty and probably busy at the office, she was certain she was safe from seeing him at the Commune.

She wasn't a cold-weather person and was glad when the motor had warmed enough to turn on the heater. At the crossroad of Main Street, she came to a stop at the stop sign, quickly looked both ways and then proceeded into the intersection.

Surprised by the
whoop whoop
of a siren, she glanced in her rearview mirror to see flashing red lights behind her. “What the—”

She was tempted to keep going. She wasn't in the mood to see or talk to Morgan, and she was sure it was him in the patrol car behind her. Why would he feel
the need to stop her, when he had to know she wasn't ready to continue the discussion she had thought had ended—at least for a while—the previous weekend? She was obviously going to find out, whether she wanted to or not.

Once she reached the other side of Main Street, she pulled slowly to the side of the road and stopped her car. Turning off the engine was not an option. She didn't want him to think she was eager for a chat, but was ready to leave at any moment.

Rolling down the window in anticipation, she stared straight ahead and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. How long would this take?

She felt him rather than saw him stop at her open window. “License and registration, please.”

Giving a short but quiet
humph
under her breath, she reached for her purse, pulled out her driver's license and handed it to him without glancing at the window. “Was I speeding?” she asked, a note of sarcasm in her voice.

“Your registration?”

She heaved a loud, irritated sigh and started to reach toward her glove compartment for the required paperwork. What was his problem?

“Step out of the car, miss.”

Freezing, her hand in midair, she gave an unladylike grunt, much like her aunt's. “Enough, Morgan. What do you want?”

The door opened and a rush of cold air greeted her. “Please step out of the car.”

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered as she pulled her coat around her and scooted out the door. “Did Hettie send you after me? Is that it?”

“Just doing my job, miss. Now if you'll just wait—”

“For what?” she demanded, turning to look at him. “I didn't do anything wrong.”

His expression was as stoic and impassive as always, and his voice cool when he answered, “The law requires a driver to bring the vehicle to a complete stop at a stop sign.”

Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin in defiance at the absurdity of the situation. “I did.”

“No, miss, you didn't.”

Planting her hands on her hips, she drew herself up as tall as she could. “I did!”

“No, miss, you didn't.”

“You're wrong. I stopped. I made sure I did. You can't do this, so just go fight some crime somewhere or something.”

“Please calm down, miss.”

“No, I won't. Stop this insane whatever you're doing and let me get on my way.” She was done dealing with this foolishness and moved to return to her car.

“I'm sorry, but you'll have to come with me.”

When he gently took her arm, she pulled away. “You're kidding!”

It was only a beat or two of the heart later that he looked down, met her gaze and said, “I don't kid.”

It was enough to calm her down and stop arguing. “All right. Where are we going?”

“Would you turn off your engine, please?”

Cars had begun to gather on the street, but she barely noticed as she stared up at him. “You want me to leave my car here?”

“It'll be perfectly safe.”

The whole thing was unbelievable, but the more she resisted, the longer this would take. “Fine.”

When she was done, he stepped back. “Follow me, please.”

With a shrug of resignation, she followed him to the cruiser, where he opened the back door and waited. “You want me to get in there? In the back? And just where was it you said we were going?”

“To the station.”

“For what reason?”

“You're under arrest.”

She couldn't believe this was happening. “You've got to be kidding,” she told him. But the look on his face told her he was serious and arguing wouldn't change anything. After sliding into the backseat of the cruiser, she leaned forward. “You are so going to regret this, Morgan Rule.”

The ride to the station was short and silent. Trish noticed Morgan glance in the mirror at her more than once, but she sat quietly, arms folded, and said nothing, although she couldn't remember ever feeling so furious with anyone.

When they arrived at their destination, he opened the back door and escorted her into the building. Several cars had followed them, and the occupants were now getting out, obviously curious about what was happening. Stu sat at the desk, his feet propped on the top of it, and he immediately swung his legs down, a look of guilt on his usually friendly face. Morgan held out his hand, and his deputy placed a ring of keys in it.

A handful of people stepped inside the office, whispering to each other, but Morgan didn't seem to notice. “This way,” he said and led her to the lone cell.

Trish was incensed. “In
there?
”

“As I stated earlier, you're under arrest.” He swung the cell door open and waited while she stepped inside.

“For what?” she asked, turning to face him.

He entered the small cell. “Failure to yield,” he said and closed himself inside it with her.

 

“F
AILURE TO YIELD
?” Trish asked.

Morgan pretended not to hear. “Stu?”

“Yessir,” his deputy said, jumping to his feet.

Morgan tossed the ring of keys to him. “You know what to do with them.”

“Yessir.”

Morgan watched as Stu pocketed the keys, grabbed his hat and left the station.

“Get him back here,” Trish demanded, as more people entered the office to join the others.

Morgan ignored the growing audience and lowered himself to the lone cot and settled onto it. “Can't.”

“Of course you can!”

“He'll be back when I tell him it's time.”

“Well, it's time,” she replied, her mouth pulled down in the deepest frown he'd ever seen on her face.

He suddenly wondered if he'd ever see her famous dimples again. If this plan of his didn't work, he was cooked. “I have some things I need to say to you,” he told her as she stood watching him. When she started to reply, he held up his hand to silence her before she got going. “I know you didn't want to rehash all this again, but there are some things I have to tell you, and I can promise you that you won't be leaving until you hear them.”

“That isn't likely,” she said, turning her back to him.

“Suit yourself, Trish. But Stu won't be back with the keys until I tell him.”

“You tell her, Sheriff!” someone shouted.

Even from behind, he saw her stiffen as she stood in the middle of the cell, silent.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and he finally clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall with a sigh. He had nothing better to do. Either this would end it for them, ruining his chances to ever be a real father to his child, or it would be a new beginning for them. At least that's what he hoped for as he sat there, his eyes closed. “Would you like to sit down?” he asked, opening his eyes to look at her.

She hesitated as she glanced back at him. “I might as well,” she finally said.

She sat delicately on the other end of the cot, presented him with her back and said nothing.

“Now they're getting somewhere,” a woman in the crowd said. Fifteen minutes passed before there was even a creak from the cot. She leaned sideways against the wall, pulling her knees up beneath her. He knew she couldn't be comfortable, but he wouldn't do anything to help. Not until she was ready to listen to him.

Outside the cell, people were getting restless. Morgan knew he could send them on their way, but he hoped they wouldn't get out of hand before Trish came to her senses and listened to him. When it was time to tell them to go, he would.

She moved slowly and stretched out her arms and legs. Sitting on the edge of the cot, she looked up and toward the office crowded with people. The fight appeared to have drained from her; she gave him a side
ways glance. “My family is probably worried to death. You know that don't you?”

She obviously hadn't seen them in the crowd. “They're aware of the situation.”

One blond eyebrow, only a shade darker than her pale hair, lifted. “Then I'm surprised Kate hasn't shown up with her shotgun.”

He wouldn't have smiled if he hadn't seen the glint of humor in her eyes as she turned to look at him. “I guess she figured it was going to come to something like this. After all, this is Dusty's fault.”

“Really,” she said. “And how is that?”

“Oh, it was perfectly innocent,” Morgan explained, stretching his own limbs. “He reminded me the other day about the Fourth of July celebration.”

For a moment, she didn't appear to understand, and then she closed her eyes. “The lasso.” He nodded.

Another few seconds of silence passed, and then she turned to look at him. “All right. You win this one. Say whatever it is you have to say. This cot is too uncomfortable to stay on for much longer.” Moving, she sighed. “And I'm hungry.”

His moment of judgment was upon him, and he suddenly didn't know where to start. And then he thought of Hettie asking him if he'd told Trish he loved her. He knew where to start.

He cleared his throat and silently prayed this was the right thing to do. “Before I say more,” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “the first thing I want to tell you is that I love you.” As the crowd outside the cell quieted, he focused on Trish. “I've never stopped loving
you since the day I pulled Kate over at the stop sign and ticketed her for not coming to a complete stop.”

“She deserved it. She always slides through,” she said without looking at him.

“I've noticed.”

She glanced at him and smiled.

“You were right last Saturday when you said I lied when I canceled our wedding. I did, but it was done with the best of intentions.”

“The road to hell—”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed before she could finish. “I vowed the night Ben was killed that I would never marry, never put a wife through what Connie went through. If nothing else, I'm a man of my word. I didn't count on meeting you in a small town in Oklahoma a year later. I tried not to love you, but I couldn't stop, and I thought it would be okay.”

“I understand that.”

“Can you hear what he's saying?” a woman in the crowd asked.

“Something about killing and never marrying,” a man answered.

“Hush!” It was Aggie, and she didn't sound pleased. “Why don't you folks go home where you belong? This is family business, not Desperation.”

“Sounds like desperation to me,” another man replied.

“Go home, Gerald,” Aggie told him.

Morgan waited while people began filing out of the office and left. When everyone was gone except the Claybornes, Ernie and Hettie, he dared a glance at Trish and kept his voice low. “There's more. Last June, John—” He hadn't meant to say the name.

She reached out and touched his hand. “I've already figured out who it was, Morgan,” she said in a whisper. “I'll never breathe a word to anyone.”

Nodding, he took a breath. “In my defense, I only let you think your tour was the reason for canceling the wedding because I wanted to shield you from what could happen. I should have told you about Ben in the beginning. I should have told you about John. That was wrong. I know that now.”

She nodded, her face solemn and revealing nothing.

“There's more.”

“All right.”

“When you told me you were pregnant, I didn't know what to do. I'm an honorable man, Trish. Responsible. Marriage wasn't what I had in mind, not with what happened in the past, and I admit that I was relieved when you said you'd do it on your own. It's all been tearing me up. I wanted to keep you safe, and I believed that marriage would put you in harm's way. But I can't let you have the baby alone.”

“It's been difficult, I'm sure.”

“Worse than watching Ben die.” His throat closed, and he had to force himself to continue. “But it wasn't that I didn't love you. In fact, that only made it harder.”

Several seconds ticked by before she spoke. “None of us knows the future, Morgan. Not a lawman, not a teacher, not any of us. Anything can happen. Or not. We might live long, happy lives, we might not. But we make the best of the time we're given, without dwelling on what might or might not happen.”

“I realize that now.”

“If I had known, if you had told me about Ben and
John, I would have taken the risk, knowing whatever time we had together would be worth it, whether days, years or a lifetime.”

“Yeah. I just never saw it that way. Not until yesterday. And now I understand that there are no guarantees. I need to grab happiness and hold on to it.” He'd come to the end of what he had to say, but he wasn't finished. Not yet. “That's what I wanted to tell you tonight. Now I have something to ask.”

Her movement was almost imperceptible, but he noticed that she moved away. “What's that?”

“What can I do to make things right?”

He watched her closely for signs of anything. Would she tell him he would have to step out of her life, their baby's life, and go on without what he expected would be his greatest joy? He held his breath as her eyes filled with tears.