The Marshal Takes A Bride (21 page)

She sat up in bed, suddenly feeling the need to be alone. Suddenly wanting him out of her grandfather’s suite of rooms.

“It’s getting late. You better go,” she said, anxious to get him out before her barely controlled emotions were unleashed.

Tucker rolled over beside her, pulled her back down in the bed and tried to take her into his arms, settling in for some cozy cuddling. “I thought maybe you’d give me a chance to do better? Who knows how good the next time will be.”

She pulled out of his arms, stood and went in search of her robe. Wrapping it around her nude body, she picked up his clothes, her stance rigid. God, she just wanted him out of here, so she could cry. So she could cleanse her soul from the hurt and pain of letting him back in again only to realize he was still the same fool. And she had given him a second chance to break her heart.

“Come back to bed, Sarah.”

She dumped his clothes on the foot of the bed at his feet. “It’s time for you to leave, Tucker.”

***

Sarah stared as the door closed behind Tucker. She had let herself be fooled once again. She had taken a tremendous risk, and though this time he had not snuck away in the middle of the night, he had cheapened their joining by telling her how good they were together, as if she was his favorite whore.

She picked up a vase sitting on the table and flung it at the closed door, the glass shattering in the darkness. “Damn you!”

And if the baby hadn’t been asleep, she would have thrown a second one and maybe even a third.

But the possibility of waking Lucas halted her destructive quest.

Tears rolled unchecked down her face, and she collapsed to the floor, sobbing as she relinquished the hold she had placed on her emotions. Tucker was gone, the dreams of being together again were dashed and it was time she realized that no matter what, he was incapable of giving his heart to anyone permanently.

He was good for a quick tumble in her bed; but anything more serious was beyond his scope, and that was what hurt most of all. The death of her dreams, no matter how unrealistic they possibly were, was like a searing pain deep within her.

She loved Tucker. Had probably loved him for years. But until she had returned to Fort Worth, she had managed to lock those feelings away. Now she was back, and Tucker was still the same selfish, rambling man. And Sarah had a child to think about. Tucker’s son.

Sarah swiped the back of her hand against her eyes. She was a fool for thinking that somehow he would fall in love with her. She was a fool for thinking that he would realize his mother was right that they belonged together. She was a fool for holding tight to her dreams of them married. But most of all she was a fool for thinking of telling him that Lucas was his son.

She was through with Tucker. She had given up on finding happiness with that man.

***

Tucker pushed his hat on his head as he closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment wondering about what had just happened. One moment they had been having the best sex of his life, and then she was asking him to leave.

She had been angry when he left her in Tombstone, yet here she had all but thrown him out the door? He couldn’t win.

Just as he turned to walk down the hall, he heard her curse him. Then glass shattered against the door behind him, and he jumped as if he had been shot.

“What the hell?” he said, putting his hand on the doorknob to reenter the suite of rooms. And that was when he heard the gut-wrenching sobs.

He almost kicked the door open, he wanted so badly to get to Sarah. The sound tore at him, causing him to ache for her. Had he physically hurt her? How had he upset her?

But instead he stood there listening through the door, debating whether to demand she let him back in or to continue on his way to his own quarters.

Soon the sound had quieted to hiccupping little sounds that though they still tore at him
,
didn’t seem to leave his insides shredded.

Okay, he would let her have her way tonight, but in the morning he wanted some explanations. He wanted to know why she had suddenly jumped up and asked him to go. He wanted to know what had caused her to cry.

She had said she didn’t expect marriage, but then she threw things and cried after he left. Could Sarah be lying when she said she didn’t want to marry?

Could she really want the two of them to be together?

***

Tucker stood outside the doctor’s practice, anxious about going in to visit Sarah. How would she treat him after last night? He had slept very little as he lay there wondering about her, what she was doing, how she looked in her sleep.

Good women like Sarah normally expected a marriage proposal the next morning. Most women would expect him to be over there promising them the world. While Tucker admitted they had been good together, he wasn’t ready to send out the wedding announcements. But if marriage wasn’t the reason Sarah had been with Tucker, why had she risked her reputation to have sex with him?

What was in it for her besides the pleasure? And could this be the reason for her tears?

Puzzled, he continued walking, trying to figure out what made a woman like Sarah function. She was different from any woman he had ever met, which was probably why they were still friends after all these years.

Yesterday had been more fun than he could ever remember having with a woman. But then again, he always seemed to enjoy spending time with Sarah. With Sarah he could let down his guard. He could play. And yesterday he’d played like a kid once again.

So what had happened while they were having great sex? Why had she suddenly reacted so negatively? He recalled their conversation and went over it word for word for the thousandth time. What had he said that upset her so?

He thought he’d given her a compliment, when he’d said she was the best. He had tried to put his pleasure into words, but somehow his language didn’t express how he’d really felt. But then, he’d never been good at expressing his feelings, and Sarah knew that.

There was no other way to find out what was troubling her than to see her. He walked the last few steps to the doctor’s door and pushed it open. The bell tinkling above announced his arrival.

She was standing at the window, watching him from the street. As he entered the door, she turned and glanced at him. Her eyes appeared dull and lifeless. There were dark circles beneath them.

“Good morning,” he said, trying to judge her mood.

“Good morning,” she replied, her tone brisk and all business.

“I trust you slept well,” he said, taking his hat off and twirling it in his hands nervously.

“Fine.”

There was an awkward silence that seemed to stretch into forever as he tried to think of anything to say that would give him a clue as to what he had done wrong.

“Did you break something after I left last night?” he asked. “I heard a crash, and came running back to check on you; but the door was locked.”

She shrugged and then smiled, the emotion not quite reaching her eyes, which weren’t the vibrant blue of yesterday.

“I broke a vase.” She turned her attention back to the window, dismissing him.

She would hardly look at him, and when she did it was almost as if she looked right through him. The passionate woman from the night before was gone. And his fear that her reaction would be for them to marry appeared totally wrong. Even though he should be feeling relieved that she didn’t insist on marriage this morning, he felt oddly insulted.

“Are you mad at me about last night, Sarah?” The words were out. He had to know.

She walked from the window and picked up a stethoscope lying on the desk, polishing the metal. “No. If you’re worried I would be expecting promises this morning, you’re in the clear. You’re still free to wander the countryside with no ties or commitments.”

“Then, what’s wrong? I can tell something is different between us.”

Her eyes would hardly meet his. Finally she glanced up at him. “I don’t think we need to repeat what we did last night, knowing how we both feel regarding a permanent commitment. I thought I could just have sex with you, but I can’t.”

“Oh. I was kind of hoping ...” He cleared his throat. “I enjoyed last night and was hoping that we could ... we could maybe do it again?”

Her head jerked up, and her eyes appeared to flash with annoyance. “Why? Because the sex was good? You found a good woman who doesn’t expect anything from you, so why not visit between her sheets on a regular basis?”

He ran his hand through his hair nervously. Yes, the sex had been great, but he also had enjoyed being with her yesterday. And he certainly didn’t regret being with her last night. “Yes, the sex was good. Why not? You’re my friend and I like spending time with you.”

She bristled as if he had insulted her, but he didn’t mean it that way. He was torn. Sarah represented everything he had never wanted, yet he wanted her. He wanted both Sarah and his freedom. And after last night he had been hoping that maybe he could have Sarah without a commitment. But if he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose both the woman and her friendship.

“Like you said, last night was the best. I think we should leave it at that,” she said, her voice tightening. “We both know that you don’t want forever, and I’m not willing to be your mistress.”

“Sarah.” His voice was wistful. She was right, he knew it, and yet he didn’t want what they had discovered to end. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He was about to take a new job. He would be gone, and he certainly didn’t need a woman, any woman, attached to him. But this was Sarah.

He twirled his hat in his hand. An awkward silence filled the room. She began to pick up things, tidying the room as if he weren’t even there. And he got the distinct feeling she didn’t want him here.

“I guess I better go. Tell Lucas I said hello,” he said, not wanting to leave her, knowing she was upset.

From outside, the sound of gunshots blasting in the street sent him scurrying to the window.

“What is it?” Sarah asked, following closely behind him.

He looked out and saw a single man on horseback riding through the streets, firing his pistol in the air as people scurried to get into a building off of the street.

The man was laughing as he sent people running for cover.

Tucker opened the door, once again mindful of his job. Sarah ran out behind him.

“Get back inside,” he said, motioning with his hand.

“Oh, my God,” Sarah said, her hand going to her mouth, clearly ignoring his command.

Tucker glanced up straight into the eyes of Kid Lansky, the only man to ever outgun him. The man who had almost killed him in Tombstone.

“Well, well, well.” The man leaned over the saddle horn of his horse. “Look who’s the marshal, and if it ain’t the doctor. Looks like we’re going to have us a reunion.”

Chapter
Twelve

Tucker laid his hand on the handle of his short-barrel Colt Peacemaker .45. “Get back inside, Sarah.”

“No ” she said, the tone of her voice emphatic.

Damn! Of all times for Sarah to suddenly show she could be not only stubborn, but completely disagreeable. He stepped in between Sarah and the Kid, his eyes never wavering from the gunfighter’s face as he tried to shield her with his body.

Though the man sat casually on horseback, his hands were not far from his own guns, his appearance relaxed yet alert.

“Marshal Tucker, you ain’t being very friendly. I thought you’d be glad to see an old friend.”

People walked up and down the street, staring at the two men and the scene playing out before them. Tucker focused on the gunfighter who sat before him.

“You’re not my friend,” Tucker said, his voice deep and rough. His blood pounded fiercely through his veins.

“You’re wrong, Tucker. We were friends right up until the day I shot you in Tombstone. You’ve never gotten over the fact that I outdrew you that day,” he said, tossing back his head, his jet-black hair peeking from beneath the wide brim of his stained cowboy hat.

Tucker stared at the man hard. The years had not been kind, and the evidence of his hard living lined the outlaw’s rugged face.

“I don’t draw on my friends.” Tucker wiped his hands on his pants and flexed his fingers.

The gunfighter laughed, his voice mocking, his eyes dark and cold.

“Why are you here?” Tucker asked bluntly. “I know it’s not our friendship that brought you to town.”

“Got a job, Tucker. Right here in your little piece of the world,” he said, shifting in the saddle, causing it to creak.

Tucker frowned, not happy with this news at all. “Doing what?”

“That’s my business, not yours.” The gunfighter sent Tucker a knowing smirk. His clothes wore the dirt of a man who had ridden hard and fast to reach his destination.

“Since I’m the marshal, I’m making it my business. Whatever it is, Lansky, I don’t want to see you in town. The sooner you leave, the longer you’ll live.” The gun handle felt smooth beneath his touch as he let his fingers glide over the cool metal.

“Ooh, is that a threat, Marshal?”

“I don’t make threats.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong, so I’ll stay as long as I like.”

Tucker shrugged. “Go ahead, but I’ll be watching your every move. You won’t be able to take a breath without me telling you you don’t know how to inhale.”

“I don’t mind,” Lansky said, leaning even closer, dropping his voice. “Might even give me the opportunity to show you you’re still too slow.”

The man was trying to bait him into pulling his gun, but it wouldn’t work. He would never get into a draw with Lansky as long as Sarah stood at his side. Tucker stared at the gunslinger for a long moment. “That’s just a chance I’ll have to take. This is my town, and no one comes in here and threatens me or the people who live here.”

“I didn’t threaten,” Lansky replied, his irritation slipping into his clipped words.

“You didn’t have to,” Tucker said. “Just your being here is a threat to the people in my town.”

The man grinned and shrugged, his hands not far from his guns. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. I’m here to stay until the job is done.” He paused and glanced over at Sarah, his eyes giving her a quick perusal. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Doc. You’re looking good, real nice. Heard you had a son.”