Authors: Jillian Hart
Calico Bride (12 page)
Time had passed so quickly. She was no longer the little girl helping her mother in the store, just as she was no longer the schoolgirl helping out after school.
Pa stopped in his tracks. "Is something wrong?"
"No, I was just apologizing for making a mistake." Lila plucked the package from the counter. "Eunice, I won't go against your rules again."
"Thank you." Eunice lifted her chin with great dignity. "Supper will be on the table in one hour. Don't be late."
"I won't." Lila unlocked the door and bolted outside. Pa didn't look upset as he scratched his head, bumped into his stitches and winced. She watched him for a moment through the glass. His swollen lip had gone down, but his black eye had become a sickly swirl of yellow and green. He had asked her to get along with Eunice long ago and it was a promise she must keep somehow. Lost in thought, she turned around and nearly crashed into someone walking by.
"Lila?" A familiar deep-noted voice rose with surprise. "Are you all right?"
"Sure, but I would be better off looking where I was going." She took a step and watched Burke hesitate before his confident stride slowed to match hers. She thought of how he had treated her father. It hurt that he hadn't made things right.
"I see you have a last-minute delivery." He gestured toward the thick fold of material clutched in the crook of her arm.
"Oh, the package." She had forgotten about it. Seeing him again jarred her. The kiss, the closeness and how he'd treated Pa. She felt awkward. "My work is never done. What about yours?"
"It's ongoing and never-ending, although my deputy shift is over and I'm headed home." He stood straight and strong, his wounds all but forgotten.
Pure stubborn male will, she suspected. "Home? Isn't the boardinghouse temporary?"
"My room, then." He shrugged. "I haven't had a permanent home for a long time."
She shouldn't be talking with Burke. Too late she remembered her father's ultimatum. How did she tell Burke about it? They reached the end of the block and stepped onto the cross street together. Plumes of dust kicked up beneath their shoes. "What about Miota Hollow? The newspaper said you were from there."
"Part of my cover story. I'm from a little town east of the Montana and Dakota border." He walked along like a perfect gentleman in a leather vest, crisp white shirt and black trousers. He appeared nothing like the renegade who had guarded her on her delivery route. Nothing like the man who had kissed her with infinite tenderness. This Burke could have been a polite stranger. His tone dropped, so that only she could hear his admission. "I call Helena home, for the little time I spend there. I keep a room in a boardinghouse to come back to."
"Another rented room?"
"I told you. I don't let anything tie me down. Even a rented room is a little too permanent for me." A note of sadness rang in his tone. For a moment, his casual manner slid away, revealing the man beneath.
She wondered about the sadness. What would it be like to always roam from town to town and assignment to assignment? He formed friendships only to leave them. It had to be lonely.
Remembering her promise to her father, she put her sympathy for him aside and her caring. She could be casual, too. She could pretend there had been no kiss with this man who wanted no ties, this man who hadn't helped her father. She cleared her throat, hoping to sound breezy. "Today I'm a little envious of your no-ties philosophy."
"Why's that?" He sounded distant again, remote. Back to business.
They stepped onto the boardwalk together. She flicked a braid over her shoulder. "Eunice."
"Ah, the stepmother." Understanding softened the harsh edge of his voice. "That isn't a surprise."
"No. I'm sorry, but you will be receiving a bill in the mail."
"For the supplies I used over my stay at the store. I expected as much." He nodded in grim acceptance. "I guess I didn't need a letter of credit from another store and a job reference after all."
"You made such an impression, more than any letter could." Humor deepened the green and blue swirl of her eyes.
"I wonder if your stepmother would consider a new career," he quipped. "I could hire her to deal with the really scary outlaws."
"No banks in the territory would ever be robbed again." Her gentle retort made them laugh together, the merriment rising above the quieter sounds of the street. It was after five, most of the shops had closed up. The streets were nearly quiet. The boardwalk stretched two more blocks, empty except for a merchant far down at the end sweeping his part of the walk.
"I'm sorry for what I did to your father." He blurted out the apology on the dying wisps of her laughter. He fisted his hands in frustration and remorse. "I wanted to back up Dobbs. Make him see I had a dark side."
"Oh, that makes sense." The unhappiness returned. She sighed, clutching her package more tightly. "You really hurt Pa. He felt betrayed and humiliated."
"I know how that feels, and I hated doing it to Arthur." He refused to hang his head, but the past whispered reminders of the man he used to be. The man he would always be. Burke began to believe he could never escape it. That no amount of sacrifice and service would ever free him from his guilt or his penance.
"When this is all over and before I leave town, I'll explain everything to him. I'll apologize." He wanted her to know that he intended to do the right thing. "Arthur doesn't need to go through life thinking he deserved to be treated badly, after your family took me in."
"That would mean a lot." They had reached the block's end and she drew to a stop. "He thought well of you before. He talked highly of your wagon repairing skills."
"I've had a lot of practice. This isn't the first time I've come to town posing as a new deputy." He brushed an errant curl from her cheek. The warmth of the afternoon they'd spent together crept into his cold soul. He'd never known sweetness like her. "I need my badge back. I should have gotten it before now, but Dobbs has searched my room twice by my guess. I think it's safe to take it back."
"What if he searches you next?"
"Is that a bit of worry I hear?" His hand lingered against the satin of her ivory cheek and the silk of her hair. Soft feelings weakened him. He didn't want to love her, but he did.
Lord, help me.
"Worry, oh, no. Curiosity, yes," she quipped.
"I don't believe you for a second." He could read the truth in her eyes, the same truth he was trying to avoid. Feelings came into being, sometimes no matter how hard one tried to ward against them. His love for her wasn't something he could express or act on but it lived lasting and steadfast, the strongest emotion he had ever known. He swallowed hard, hoping his affection did not show. "I worry for you, which is why I need my badge back. It's why I can't see you anymore."
"And I can't see you." She laid her fingertips over his, gently increasing the contact of his hand against the gentle curve of her face. "Pa has forbidden it and I cannot go against it."
"I wish'¦" It was one sentence he could not complete. A roil of emotions too many to name twisted up inside him. He was not a free man or a redeemed man. If he was, then he would never leave her side. He could fight for her, provide for her, protect her in all ways. Commitment fired up in him all-consuming.
Help me to walk away from her
. He did not have the strength on his own. He had to do what was right for her. He swallowed hard, taking a moment to cherish the soft fall of sunlight burnishing her hair and the brush of it against her cheek. Her green-blue gaze met his with the same tender feelings that rooted in his soul.
For one moment filled with longing, he saw the future he could not have with her. He envisioned their little house in town and coming home to her as his wife. Supper would be on the table and a cooing baby in a bassinet. He wanted it so sorely he could almost feel her arms wrapping around his neck tight to welcome him. His entire being yearned for the beautiful dream of a life spent with her.
A dream he could never have. The past choked him. It was time to part paths from her but he could not walk away. Not yet. Her soft rosebud lips softened slightly, as if she wished for another kiss. He wanted nothing more than the sweetness of brushing her lips with his, but he could not allow it. He could not stay on this perilous path. He had to get off it. He had to end it. He tilted her head gently and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.
Her disappointment rolled through him. He was disappointed, too. He hadn't meant to fall in love with her, but he was in control of his decisions. He would do the right thing.
"Leave the badge behind the stack of washtubs on your porch right before dark." He gave her flyaway tendrils on final nudge so he could admire the color of her eyes one last time. "It's been nice knowing you, Lila."
"The honor has been entirely mine." She blinked hard and in that moment love blazed brightly in her gaze. For one precious moment it shone unmistakable. He wanted to watch forever, to feel the connection of being cared for, but it could not last. She tucked her feelings away and left, tapping down the side street with her package to deliver and taking the last of the sunshine with her.
Chapter Twelve
I
t was right before nightfall. Dusk was made darker by the black storm clouds blotting out the stars and stretching as far as Lila could see out her bedroom window. Humid, uncomfortable heaving wind gusts exploded through the screen, scattering Lark's drawings as she lay on her stomach on her bed and ruffled the pages of the open book on the nightstand.
"Whatcha doing?" Lark asked, her pencil rasping against parchment.
"I think a storm is on its way." Distant lightning crackled along twisting cloud bellies, illuminating them with a purplish glow. "I need to bring in the bench cushions."
Lark mumbled something, her pencil darkening a portion of the page as she worked. Lila left her sister to her sketching, listened in the hallway for her parents' voices rumbling softly from the parlor as Eunice read something aloud to Pa, probably from the church magazine she was so fond of. Seizing the opportunity, she quietly opened the door and tiptoed down the stairs. The weight in her pocket pulled on her conscience as she padded through the dark, echoing store.
She'd had to speak to Burke to tell him goodbye. She had to speak to him to tell him she couldn't speak to him. Technically, that wasn't breaking her promise to Pa, but it felt wrong. She unlocked the back door, careful to open it slowly enough so the hinges would not squeak.
The instant she stepped outside, the muggy air closed around her like a damp blanket. She eased across the dark porch, groping. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the inky darkness. Noises echoed eerily between buildings as she plucked the cushions from the bench and tossed them inside. She felt like a heroine in the new Range Rider novel she was reading, caught in the dark of night in an echoing alley with only shadows to guide her. She even felt watched, too, as if she weren't exactly alone.
Burke had dominated her thoughts all evening long. Having to end things with him distressed her. She missed him already. She missed knowing she could never laugh with him, walk down the street at his side or look forward to another wagon ride with him holding the reins.
I'm sure this is Your will, Father.
Her prayer felt small against the angry stretch of the bruised sky above and the silence settling in the alley.
Please help direct my heart. I know I should not love him.
A gust of wind knocked over something on Mrs. Grummel's porch. What sounded like a tin watering can rolled with uneven metallic thuds and then clunked to a stop. With the wind kicking up, a storm was definitely on its way. She knelt by the stacked washtubs. A strange shadowy flutter in the dark at the metal rim caught her attention. She reached behind the stack. Something was hidden there!
Sunflowers. She pulled the bouquet gingerly from behind the relative shelter of the tub. The wildflowers were furled up for the night, their delicate yellow petals the exact shade of her dress. Burke. Why had he done it? She reached quickly into her pocket and seized the badge. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement in the inky darkness.
Burke. She couldn't see him, but she knew. His presence changed the night, changed her. She tucked his badge where the flowers had been and straightened. Affection that no storm or hardship or ultimatum could diminish burned inside her. She could not stop it. Maybe nothing could. It wasn't smart and there was no way a relationship could work out between them, but she wished. She hoped.
Across the alley, a shadow parted from the others and took distinct shape. She recognized the assertive tilt of his Stetson, the mountain-wide shoulders, the strength in his tall muscular frame. It was too dark to distinguish his features but she could feel his kindness like a candle in the night, a single flame burning brightly. He raised one hand in both hello and goodbye, and she raised hers, too. The gulf between them was wide. The space between their hearts was not. Still feeling the faint tingle of his earlier kiss to her forehead, she walked backward to the door.
Precious seconds ticked by and she wished she could make time stop, but the wind gusted with a sudden icy chill. The sky overhead broke apart in a blinding flash of white-tailed lightning. Thunder crashed so loud it drowned out the sudden clamor of hailstones pummeling the ground.
He rejoined with the shadows. She backed through the door. They were apart again, but strangely not separated by heart at all.
"
Burke ducked out of the hail into the Steiner Saloon. As thunder cannoned overhead and ice stones hailed on the roof with a deafening clatter, he wove around empty tables and couldn't forget Lila. He tried to. She stayed front and center in his thoughts, the willowy shadow on the back porch clutching a spray of sunflowers. He knew she cared for him. He had felt the existence of her affection as surely as if she'd said the words aloud.
"What'll it be?" the barkeep asked, shining a tumbler with a hand towel. Dobbs had called him Roger. "Whiskey?"
"Not tonight." He sidled up to the bar and pulled out a stool. He wasn't a drinking man. "I came to talk to you."
"To me?" Roger's towel stilled. He carefully set the tumbler on the bar. The dim lamplight could not hide the tic in the bartender's jaw. "So now you're doing Dobbs's dirty work?"
Dirty work? Burke settled on the stool and leaned his forearms against the edge of the bar. "What if I were?"
"Tell him I don't have it all, but I can get it by the end of the week." Roger tossed his towel on the bar, distaste curling his upper lip. "No need to say it. I know Dobbs will be mad, but it's his own fault. I told him when he threatened me there wasn't a whole lot to spare. Wait right there."
"Threatened you?" How about that. He'd stumbled onto his best piece of hard evidence yet after two months of subtly asking questions around town. Burke shook his head. God never failed. God always led him exactly where he was meant to be. He glanced around the saloon, taking in the half dozen tables, beaten up chairs, the floor clean but scarred by cigarette butts, matches and one too many brawls. He'd been in many saloons like this over the years and the memories tortured him.
Lightning flashed, starkly illuminating the room around him with a brief blinding whiteness. Time reeled, taking him backward in time to the glare of the lantern shining in his face. Memory seized him and he was fifteen-years-old again.
"Here's where you sit lookout." Old Man Cheever blew out the wick, and the sudden change to blackness pressed upon Burke's eyes. "You protect us. That's all you gotta do, boy. Just follow Olly's lead."
"I'll show him the ropes, Pa." Olly spoke up with importance. Experience puffed up like pride in his voice. "Don't worry. We've got your back."
"That's my boy." He disappeared in the thousand shadows and shades of the night. When he spoke again, his voice came as if disembodied. "That's the sign. Rifles ready. Here she comes."
"Now the fun starts, Burke." Olly stretched out on the rocky high ground and dropped the pail of ammunition between them. "Get yourself a good view of the road below."
"I see it." Excitement quivered through him as he lay belly down. A rock jabbed his ribs and he swept it away, impatient to get his polished new rifle positioned. He lined up the site with the dark roadway below.
No one came or went. There was no sign of Mr. Cheever or his other employees. He wondered what they were moving that needed security. It was too late at night and there weren't enough men to move cattle. Maybe it was gold. This was mining country. Maybe Mr. Cheever had a lot of nuggets to move. That would explain why he was so secretive.
A faint drumming of hooves and the rattle of rigging rose above the sounds of the plains. Six horses broke into sight pulling a small stagecoach. Two men sat on the seat, one with the reins, the second with a rifle.
Thunder cracked in his ear. Burke jumped, realizing Olly had taken a shot. Adrenaline hammered through his blood, making his own gun shake. He watched with horror as the rifleman on the seat below slumped sideways and fell bonelessly off the side of the stage.
"You killed him!" Hoarse with terror, his words carried no more sound than a whisper. "You just'¦killed him."
"Looks like it." Olly beamed. "I hit him square in the chest. Pa'll be real proud of me."
Burke gulped. He hardly paid attention to the chaos below. On horseback Mr. Cheever rode firing at the driver.
"Take him down," Olly shouted in his ear. "I left him for you."
"I c-can't." He tossed the gun at his so-called friend, sick over the weapon he'd been fawning over not an hour earlier.
"You have to." Olly tossed it back. He picked up his Winchester long enough to site and fire. "Awww, winged him," he said, disappointed.
Range Riders who had been protecting the stage surged forward, their badges glinting faintly in the moonshine.
"Shoot, dummy!" Olly hollered. Peppering gunfire exploded through the night.
A peal of thunder rattled overhead, shaking the rafters, drawing Burke back to the present. He blinked, startled to realize he was sitting in the bar in Angel Falls.
"This is all I got." Roger slapped a thick envelope on the bar. "Tell that'" He paled. "Dobbs. What are you doin' here?"
"I came for my money and not a moment too soon." Dobbs took the closest stool. "Hannigan, you weren't helpin' yourself to what was mine, now were you, boy?"
"No, Roger thought I was working for you, and I guess I am." Burke swallowed hard, but the bitterness of the past remained thick on his tongue. At least Lila was out of his thoughts where she belonged, where he wanted.
Where she would remain.
"
Morning rain pattered on the boardwalks and puddled in the street to make mud. Lila lifted her skirts to the tops of her polished black shoes and crossed the intersection carefully. Her soles squished in the mud but not a drop landed on her pink calico. A horse splashed through the wet and muck.
"Lila," a familiar rumbling voice called out.
She knew who the rider was before he spoke. She stepped safely onto the boardwalk on the other side of the street and whirled. A Stetson shaded Burke's face. He sat astride a stunning black mustang. Silhouetted against the dark sky and silver rain, he could have ridden right out of the story she'd been reading.
"I can't speak to you." She hated the distance between them. No smile softened his features, as if he hated it, too. "I'm sorry."
"Then we won't talk." Burke reined his horse over, swaying slightly in the saddle, his posture and command that of an accomplished horseman. She didn't see how anyone could look at him and merely see a deputy. She saw nobility, honor, might. He could not hide who he was, not from her.
"Don't say a word," he orderly gently. "Ever since I decided to stay away from you, I keep running into you. This morning I saddled up to ride out of town and you are the first person I come across. It's either bad luck or Providence."
Providence, she decided. At least that was what she hoped.
"I'm following a couple leads on my day off." He glanced casually up and down the street. No one was out in the humid heat where the threat of lightning kept most folks close to home. "The sheriff is sleeping off his bender from last night, so I thought it was a good time."
She nodded, wishing she could speak. Seeing him strengthened the well of affection rising up within her. Burke leaned to lay his gloved hand tenderly against the curve of her face.
They needed no words. She could feel the love in his touch. Respectful and sincere, it traveled as if on a current from his heart to hers. Could he feel the same from her? Did he know? She wanted to hold back, she wanted to be sensible but her love for him overpowered reason. All she wanted, all she could ever want, was him.
It was not meant to be. She pressed her cheek against his palm. What if this was her only chance at true love? What if the one man who matched her soul was Burke? He would leave and take her only chance for happily-ever-after with him. And then what? She thought of all she would regret if she continued down this path. She thought of the rest of her life alone and unmarried, running the store with Eunice and how all she would have of Burke would be his memory.
Tears stung behind her eyes but did not fall. She wouldn't allow them to. Bourne away on emotion, she covered Burke's hand with both of hers and drew it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles, nerves needling at her boldness. Could he feel what she could not say?
"Me, too." His midnight eyes darkened to a stormy black, but tenderness shone in him as he bent his head to kiss her lips. No kiss could ever be more loving or respectful. She clung to him, wishing the moment could last forever. On tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on but she could not stop the moment from ending. She fell back on her heels, Burke straightened and his saddle creaked.
"I wish." The tenderness of his gaze deepened. A muscle jumped along his jawline. Regret lined his face as he tipped his hat to her. "I just wish."
The wind gusted, driving rain into her face and blurring her vision as he rode away, a lone rider dressed in black, outlined by the storm. She swiped at her eyes, the pesky rain, so full of pure love her ribs ached from the pressure against them.
Maybe there was a way, she thought.
Let there be a way,
she prayed.
"Lila!" a friendly voice called out, as dear as could be. Shoes drummed on the slick boardwalk. "Wait for me!"
"Earlee." She gave her face a final swipe drying away the last of the rain'not tears. She was too strong for that. She firmed her chin and genuine joy smiled through her at the sight of her friend hurrying closer. "What are you doing out in this weather? It's a long walk from your family's farm."
"Pa let me take Hilda." She gestured to the sway-backed, gray-muzzled mare hitched to a cart tethered in front of the druggist's storefront. That could only mean one thing.