Once an Outlaw (29 page)

But it was too late. She could never forget… never forgive…

“I’d like to kill him.” The words tore savagely from
him, at odds with the gentle strength with which he held her. “I wish to hell he’d escape—-just so that I could track him into the middle of nowhere and make him pay for ever once touching you!”

Emily laid her head against his shoulder and wept, letting the tears flow. She’d wept alone before, in brief bursts, out of hurt and anger, but now she wept with all her heart, as Clint held her and let her cry, let her pain seep into him, as if he would take it all away if only he could.

When at last she drew a ragged breath and the sobs abated, he handed her his handkerchief and waited until she’d dried her wet cheeks, waited as she sank down upon the cot, weary and spent, her dark hair all atangle.

He knelt beside her, took her hand. “Emily,” he said grimly, a great heaviness in his heart. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I know now you won’t ever feel toward me even a hint of what I feel for you.” He cleared his throat, forcing himself to finish saying what had to be said. “After everything that’s happened, I don’t blame you for hating me—you have every right—”

“Hate you?” Startled, she stared at him. “I don’t hate you, you stupid idiotic man.”

His eyes locked on hers. “But I thought—”

“I’m furious with you. Or … I was,” she added, somewhat puzzled because being there alone with him in this bleak, dim cell had somehow changed everything. The anger that had driven her since her rescue on Bitter Rock had somehow melted away. The barrier between her and Clint might never have been. She’d let out all the pain, all the rage, all the tears, and now they were … gone. Simply gone. Like dry, dead dust and withering weeds washed away by a rainstorm. In the same way that a hard, driving downpour cleanses away the dead, parched land,
leaving it clean and refreshed and moist with life, she sat there with Clint and no longer saw a man who had withheld the truth from her—she saw the man who made her feverish with his kisses, whose touch made her come alive. She saw the man who’d dried her tears, locked her in his arms, who’d bought her box lunch in front of the entire town. The man who’d made unforgettable love to her in a hayloft and found her on Bitter Rock when she needed him most.

A man who tried to do what was right—but could admit when he was wrong.

The man she loved. And the man she forgave.

“What was that you said, Clint… about my never feeling what you… you feel for me?” She moistened lips that suddenly felt dry. She felt his hand close more firmly around hers and glanced down at it wonderingly.

“What… do you feel for me?” she whispered, a tiny feeble hope like a small hot candle flame springing to life inside her.

The words came easily after all. He’d never said them before to any woman, but he said them to her without hesitation or embarrassment. “I love you, Emily. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.” Straight from the heart, his words were as solid and unyielding as the bars that locked them in the cell. His hands grasped her arms, pulled her close, holding her tenderly, but with an urgency that struck through to her soul.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely.

A soaring joy rose in her as she lifted her shining eyes to his—as she saw the love in those keen blue depths, sensed the yearning and the hunger within him. The need that was answered by the need in her own heart. She flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, Clint,” she whispered, hope filling her, “I love you too!”

Clint kissed her, a hard, possessive kiss that left her breathless and eager for more. She clung to him and pressed her mouth to his, nestling her body against him, reveling in the hard strength of him, in the way she fit against him as he lowered her beneath him on the cot.

“Marry me,” Clint said, unbuttoning her dress, his mouth moving over her cheek, trailing down her throat.

Emily could barely think as her fingers fumbled at his shirt. “I don’t know … your family … my family … they won’t…”

“We’re not going to marry them, Emily. Damn it, we’re going to marry each other. Say yes!”

“Yes!”

“How soon?”

“As soon as I can sew a wedding gown—” She never got to finish, for Clint’s mouth descended on hers, his hands began to stroke and entice her, and then they were both lost to thought and reason and any vestige of human conversation.

They spoke with their hands, with their lips, with their bodies and their hearts. They celebrated the love that had bloomed between them against all odds and all reason. Alone in the lamplit cell, locked away from the town, from the world, they held each other and loved each other through the soft hours of the night and into the pale opal glow of dawn.

And it wasn’t until the next morning, when they scrambled into their clothes as Pete and Lester showed up to unlock the jailhouse door, that Clint reached into his boot and pulled out a key.

A spare key to the cells, he explained to an open-mouthed Emily. He always kept it on him—just in case.

“And you… you didn’t deem it important to tell me about this last night?” Emily gasped as her brother
shoved open the door to the outer office and stomped past Clint’s desk toward the cell.

“Nope. It wasn’t important.” He chuckled softly. “Not nearly as important as spendng the entire night with you—alone in a dark, locked room—with a bed,” her intended whispered into her ear.

And for once, slipping her hand into his, Emily couldn’t disagree.

ISSA
M
C
C
OY ARRIVED ON THE STAGE
on a warm cloudy morning that held a hint of rain. She flew down the steps in a blue-and-peach striped muslin gown and a fetching feathered bonnet, scooping a waiting Joey into her arms as Emily watched in delight.

Emily’s heart was light as she embraced her friend who looked well, rested and unutterably happy, despite her untidy chignon and wrinkled traveling dress whose hem was smudged with the dust of her journey.

“How can I ever thank you enough?” Lissa exclaimed, her brown eyes sparkling with tears as she hugged Emily yet again. In her new gown and smart bonnet, she no longer looked like the terrified and desperately poor woman who had fled Jefferson City. Obviously, Emily thought, relieved to see her friend looking so well, Lissa’s grandparents had indeed taken her under their wing, and her circumstances had improved considerably.

“You and Joey are both safe—that’s all that matters,” Emily told her, pressing her hands. “Oh, Lissa, I have so much to tell you!”

“Why, yes, I believe you do,” Lissa replied scooping
Joey up into her arms as her gaze shifted to the man who stood beside Emily, the dark-haired, incredibly handsome man whose lean features and confident bearing looked oddly familiar.

She cast a questioning glance at Emily, who blushed rosily. “I’d like to introduce you to—”

“That’s Sheriff Clint!” Joey piped up, his thin voice carrying all the way down the street to the livery. “He and Em-ly are getting married and they said I can come to the wedding!”

“Is that so? Can I come too?”

A new, deep-timbered voice spoke from the doorway of the stagecoach. The rest of the stagecoach passengers had alighted, and now a tall, powerfully built man strode down the steps with a smooth, easy stride. He was dressed all in black, but for the square silver buckle on his low-slung gunbelt. A dark slouch hat slanted low over grim eyes. But his face …

Emily froze, staring at that handsome, hard-planed countenance, and beside her, Clint went still as stone.

“Remember I told you my grandfather was sending an escort with me, to keep me and Joey safe on our journey?” Lissa said quickly, setting Joey down. “This is him—Nick Barclay. My grandfather said—”

Her voice faded away as Nick and Clint both began to laugh.

Emily watched in amazement as Clint and his brother clasped one another in a bear hug and thumped each other on the back.

“And this is Clint Barclay—he’s our sheriff in Lonesome,” she explained a bit breathlessly to Lissa. “He’s also my fiancé,” she added, her cheeks pink as the posies on Lissa’s smart new bonnet. “And unless I miss my guess—your escort is his brother!”

Amid the excited babble that ensued, introductions were made all around, and Nick grinningly confessed that he hadn’t told the woman he was charged to protect that his brother happened to be the sheriff of the town that was their destination.

It turned out that Lissa’s grandparents were old friends of Reese Summers, and Clint and Nick had known them both for years.

Nick Barclay bowed low over Emily’s hand. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Spoon. So you’re getting hitched to my big brother? Brave woman. I can’t imagine what you see in him, but let me say, he’s one lucky hombre.”

“I intend to make sure he knows that every day from now on,” Emily replied with a saucy smile that drew an approving burst of laughter from Nick.

“Believe me—I know how lucky I am every time I look at her.” Clint’s arm went around her as he spoke and Emily leaned into him as if her entire body longed for his touch.

Nick Barclay’s cool gaze shifted from one to the other of them. He whistled low as he saw how the dark-haired beauty with those entrancing silver eyes looked at his older brother, and how Clint looked back at her—as if he couldn’t see anyone or anything else.

“Well, big brother,” Nick said slowly, “you’re as loco in love with Miss Spoon here as Wade is with his Caitlin, aren’t you? I never thought I’d see the day when both my brothers—” He broke off and tipped his hat at Emily. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. But it’s a regular shock. I think I need some strong spirits to help me recover.”

“Don’t feel sorry for him, Emily,” Clint said roughly. “He’ll never recover. The very mention of marriage makes my little brother break out in hives.”

Emily laughed at the two of them. Obviously there
was strong affection between the Barclay boys—every bit as much as between Pete and Lester. But while Pete and Lester, as cousins, could not have looked more dissimilar, Clint and his brother bore a powerful resemblance to each other. Nick had the same tall, muscular physique as Clint, but his hair was even darker and his eyes were a deep gray, so dark they were almost black.

Dangerously handsome good looks obviously ran in the Barclay family, she thought.

“When is the wedding?” Lissa asked excitedly.

“Next week.” It was Emily who answered her. “Clint sent telegrams to Wade and Caitlin at Cloud Ranch, and he was hoping to get word to you in time as well,” she told Nick with a smile. “So it’s lucky you turned up when you did.”

“How the hell did you happen to become Lissa’s escort?” Clint demanded.

“After the Parkers and Lissa worked out all their differences and settled all their family business, Sam and Lila got in touch with me. They were worried about all the trouble Lissa had in Jefferson City.” Nick’s gaze flicked for a moment to Joey’s rapt face, then he continued, “and they asked if I would get her safely to Colorado and back with her son.”

“Joey, you hear that?” Emily knelt down. “The man who’s going to travel back to California with you and your mama is Sheriff Clint’s brother! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Are you a sheriff too?” Joey asked, grinning hopefully up at the tall man who looked so much like Sheriff Clint.

“No, I’m not, but I can shoot and ride and track every bit as good as my brother here.” Nick chuckled, then his face grew sober. “And I can protect you and your mother. No one’s going to bother or scare either of you, Joey, I
promise you that. And I’ll stay with you until you’re safely home in your grandfather’s house in California.”

“That’s good,” Joey nodded. “But I don’t want to leave till after the wedding. Is that all right, Mama?”

“We’re not going anywhere until after this wedding.” Lissa hugged him and glanced gratefully up at Emily. “I can never thank you enough,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Guess what, Mama! I’m not so scared now.” Joey let go of her, stepped back, and gazed at her proudly. “’Cuz I’ve learned lots of things from Sheriff Clint and Uncle Jake and Pete and Lester. And John Armstrong was here, but he went away and he’s never going to find us now—”

“He … was
here?”
Lissa straightened, going pale as she looked at Emily in alarm. Nick frowned and threw his brother a quick glance, but Clint spoke calmly.

“He never saw the boy, Lissa. He didn’t spot Emily either, thanks to some quick thinking on her part.” He threw a swift grin at the woman he was planning to marry, then scooped Joey up and set the boy upon his shoulders, as Joey shouted in delight. “Come on, let’s head back to the Spoon place and we’ll fill you both in.”

“You’re going to sleep in Em-ly’s room, Mama,” Joey explained. “And guess what! She baked a big chocolate cake—and you get to have the first piece!”

“Only if Pete and Lester haven’t gobbled it all up by the time we get back!” Emily muttered ruefully.

It was good to have Lissa there, sharing her room during this visit, helping her to prepare for the wedding. In the days that followed they had a chance to catch up on all that had happened since Lissa had fled Jefferson City and Emily had taken Joey into her care. Lissa told her how her grandparents had wept with joy when she’d explained she wanted to patch up the family quarrel that
had separated them from her parents years ago. How they wanted her to come live with them in San Francisco and to help her to raise Joey. And in their three-story mansion, full of servants, and far from the world of John Armstrong, how she had for the first time in many months felt safe.

As for Joey, the boy was excited at the thought of getting to know the great-grandparents he’d never met. Though he was saddened to be leaving Emily and Sheriff Clint and Uncle Jake and Pete and Lester, as well as Bobby Smith and his other friends, Lissa promised him they would come back to visit, and that all of his friends from Lonesome—especially Emily and Uncle Jake—could come visit him in San Francisco, an idea he quickly warmed to.

Then Emily told her friend all about her first meeting with Clint Barclay, about the box lunch social, and about the plot against the Mangley women. She told Lissa how Uncle Jake and Pete and Lester—along with Clint—were now heroes in the town of Lonesome. She reassured a shocked Lissa that Ratlin was dead and Jenks, Frank Mangley, and Rudy Sleech, the mine foreman, were all in jail in Denver awaiting trial. And she told her how Pete seemed more than a little in love with Florry Brown, and that she wouldn’t be at all surprised if Lester was soon walking down the aisle with Carla Mangley—and how she, Emily Spoon, had fallen helplessly in love with a lawman.

“And your uncle—and brother—and Lester—they have accepted him? I mean, Emily, you said he’s the man who sent your uncle to prison!”

“They’re the ones who brought us together,” Emily replied. “Strange as it seems. After working together to trap Ratlin and the others, I think they all came to respect each other, to a point. But Uncle Jake and Pete and Lester
would rather jump off a cliff than admit anything other than loathing for a lawman. They just know he makes me happy,” she murmured, a smile curving the corners of her lips.

“Well, any fool can see
that,”
Lissa laughed. Then she sobered and clutched Emily’s hands in hers. “I get shivers all over when I see the way he looks at you. You’re lucky, Emily, to have found a man like that—a man who loves you so much.”

“I know. But it’s not half as much as I love him,” she replied almost to herself, then she smiled at her friend. “When I came here, I just wanted a fresh start with my family. I didn’t want to be alone any more. But I never thought I’d find a man as wonderful as Clint. He’s strong, but Lissa, he’s so gentle. So caring. And … when Jenks told him that Ratlin had captured me, Clint made him tell where I was. Pete told me about it—he said Clint was ready to kill Jenks on the spot. It would have cost him his badge—he might have even gone to jail—but, according to Pete, Clint didn’t care about anything else at that moment—except finding me. He loves me even when I’m stubborn and hot-tempered and disagreeable.” She laughed. “What do you think of that?”

“That’s how it should be, Emily.” Lissa’s eyes shone. “I’m glad for you. And he’s going to faint with pleasure when he sees you in your wedding gown.”

“He’d better.” Emily’s laughter rang out like softly chiming bells. “Or I’ll be
most
disappointed.”

The days leading up to the wedding seemed to fly by. Emily awakened every morning thinking that soon she would be waking up next to Clint—and she spent every evening with him talking and holding hands and kissing on the front porch.

All the days were happy ones, brimming with friends
coming to visit and offering suggestions for the wedding, while Emily sewed her wedding gown from morning until night. Nettie Phillips and Margaret Smith and Lissa helped her make plans for the reception, which would take place in the big parlor of Nettie’s boardinghouse. Wade and Caitlin Barclay were due to arrive the day before.

And for their honeymoon, Clint wanted to take Emily first to Cloud Ranch, to see the home where he’d grown up, and then on to San Francisco, to see the sights and visit again with Lissa and Joey.

The morning before her wedding day dawned clear as crystal. Wade and Caitlin’s stagecoach was due in at three o’clock, and Emily had planned a big fancy dinner to welcome them. Nettie gave her a recipe for lobster patties and Lissa had one for roasted sage hen with raisin and carrot stuffing and they woke up early and began to scour and clean the little ranch house until every floor, lamp, and stick of furniture shone like a jewel. Then they turned their attention to baking two big peach pies.