A Promise of Roses (9 page)

"I thought you said Scott wouldn't pass through Topeka without stopping to see Nelly McFadden.” Megan popped the last bite of rabbit into her mouth and rubbed her greasy fingers on her pant leg.

They had crossed the
Neosho
River
just as the sun was setting,
then
traveled a few miles farther to make camp on the bank of the Cottonwood. Tomorrow, Lucas said, they would find a shallow spot to cross the rapid waters and move on toward Wichita. Everything seemed to be going along in much the same vein as the last time they'd stayed the night beneath a blanket of bright
Kansas
stars.

"He visited her, all right. But someone else was in bed with her by the time I got there."

Megan's eyes widened. “And you believed her when she said Scott was headed for Wichita? Wouldn't she, of all people, have reason to lie?"

"Probably, but she had a new bruise under her right eye."

"Oh, well then,” Megan said, as though his statement made perfect sense. Then she frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?"

"I think Scott knocked her around. If that's true, then she might just be angry enough to point me in the right direction."

She watched as he finished off his own portion of meat and washed it down with a swallow of clean, cold water from the river. “Isn't that quite a stretch?” she asked. “I mean, are you really going to travel all the way down to Wichita on the word of your enemy's ... you
know
?"

"What the hell do you expect me to do?” he asked in a sudden burst of anger, tossing the canteen away from him. “For the past five years, I've done nothing but track the son of bitch back and forth across
Kansas
and
Missouri
. Christ, every time I get close to him, he disappears. What else am I supposed to do?"

Megan waited a moment for his temper to cool. She saw the heaving of his chest slow to a regular breathing
pattern,
the muscles in his jaw slacken. “How can he be so hard to find?” she asked quietly.

"Beats the hell out of me.
I swear to God, this guy is like a ghost. Just when I think I've got him cornered and there's no way he can get away, he vanishes.” He ran splayed fingers through his light hair. “It's damn frustrating. So now I've got two choices. I can
either take the word of Nelly McFadden and
go to Wichita, or I can go to the nearest town and wait around until a report comes in to the marshal on where he was last spotted. Of course, by then he would probably be in the next state."

He turned his ice-blue gaze on Megan. “What do you suggest I do?"

She swallowed, feeling properly chastised for second-guessing his decision. “All right,” she said. “You get to Wichita, then what?"

"I wait."

"For what?"

He shrugged and got to his feet.
“For Scott to show up in the local saloon.
For someone to recognize him from his wanted poster."

"Don't you think that's dangerous? What if he sees you first and shoots you in the back?"

"I'll take my chances,” he said, arranging the bedroll next to the fire.

The sinewy muscles of his back moved beneath the fabric of his shirt. Megan blinked but didn't turn away. “That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You're going to get yourself killed."

He didn't answer.

"Don't you care that this man is a ruthless, coldblooded killer? He could shoot you down and never blink an eye."

He turned to pierce her with a steely glare. “Like I said, that's a chance I'm willing to take."

She threw up her hands in defeat.
“God save me from senseless, out-for-justice, idiotic men.
You in particular,” she said, jabbing a pointed finger in his direction.

A short chuckle filled the night air, but then his face once again fell into an unemotional mask. “I thought you understood what I have to do."

"I do. Or at least I understand why you
think
this has to be done. What I don't understand is how you can go through life caring for nothing but revenge. Look around,” she said, waving an arm to encompass their surroundings. “Do you even see it? Do you see all the stars twinkling above your head?
The moon lighting up the night sky?
Do you hear the swift current of the river as it rushes by?
The birds chirping?
The rustle of leaves?”
Her voice rose with the mention of each of nature's individual delights. “Do you ever notice any of it, or are you too obsessed with murdering Silas Scott?"

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the blood rushing through her veins. Lucas stared into the distance, but he didn't seem to be focusing on anything in particular. Her heart plummeted with the knowledge that her words had fallen on deaf ears.

"I see it,” he said finally. “I see the moon and the stars. I hear the river and the birds. And all I can think is that Annie and Chad won't enjoy those simple pleasures ever again."

"What about you?” Megan didn't know what caused her to press on. She only knew that if she could get Lucas to realize what he was missing, she might be able to convince him to put aside his quest for vengeance and start living again.

"Annie and Chad are gone,” she continued. “No amount of grieving, no selfless act of revenge is ever going to bring them back. But you're here, you're alive, and there's so much good that you could do."

"Like what?” he scoffed. “My ranch is gone. Everything I worked so hard for—everyone I loved—has been destroyed."

"You could start another ranch,” she suggested.

"I won't go back there,” he said through gritted teeth.

"There are plenty of other places to build a home.
And what about your talent with a gun?
You were a bounty hunter, so I'm assuming you're a decent shot. You could get a position as sheriff or marshal in some small town. I'm sure they'd be grateful to find someone with your abilities. If all else fails, you could open a mercantile. Or ask your friend Brandt to get you a job with the railroad."

"I don't think Union Pacific would appreciate having someone like me on the payroll."

"They would be crazy not to hire you."

"Yeah, but they won't like knowing they've got a murderer in their midst. And I'll be one just as soon as I take care of Scott."

Megan jumped to her feet and faced him, hands on hips. “Haven't you heard a word I've said?” she yelled. “You don't have to kill him! You can give all the information to the marshal in Wichita and let him take care of Silas Scott. Scott's already wanted; I'm sure a lawman would be happy to bring him in and hold him for trial."

"Scott killed my family,” Lucas said evenly. “It's my responsibility to see that he pays."

All of a sudden the air went out of her argument, and she dropped onto the scratchy blanket.
“Fine.
Go after him. Drag me along. But don't expect me to support your decision."

"I never asked you to,” he said, lying down beside her. “In fact, I never asked you for a damn thing. I think it's about time you remember that you're my prisoner. What I say goes. I don't need your opinion or your approval."

She remained silent for several long minutes, searching for a comfortable position. Lucas had his back to her, and though his breathing sounded deep and even, she knew he was still awake.

"My mother told me once
that roses
are the hardiest of all flowers.” She spoke
softly,
sure he could hear her in the dark silence, with only the campfire crackling at their feet. “In winter, snow and ice cover them, sometimes so brutally that you think nothing could possibly live for months under those conditions. Then spring comes, and the snow melts. And before you know it, tiny rosebuds appear. It seems like a miracle—until you realize that all they really needed was a little sunshine to melt the ice. It's like a never-ending promise from God.
A promise of roses to bloom every spring.

"The ice will melt someday, Lucas. All you have to do is let a little sunshine into your heart."

Lucas rose before dawn the next morning, having gotten no more than a pinch of sleep here or there. Too many things plagued his mind, not the least of which was Megan's speech the previous night. Her words bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He found himself wondering if she was right, if he should try to put the past behind him and start over. And then he pictured Annie and Chad the way he'd found them that day.
So much blood everywhere.
He remembered the goading tone of Scott's note, and he knew he could never put things behind him until Scott was dead.

The hatred began once again to swirl through his body, making him ever more determined to see Silas Scott suffer for his crimes.

He had half a notion to leave Megan behind. He could drop her off in the next town and go on without her. She was becoming too much of a burden to him, knowing about his past, trying to change his mind about what he knew had to be done. And yet he didn't want to continue the journey alone. Or
maybe it wasn't that he didn't want to be alone but that he didn't want to be without her
.

Christ, she was driving him insane.

Despite his urgency to find Scott, he almost looked forward to bedding down these days—whether on the hard ground or in a comfortable hotel room—because he knew that sometime during the night Megan would roll onto her stomach and drape herself across his long body. And, damn, he liked that. He liked the way she felt, the way she smelled, the way she mumbled in her sleep.

He still grinned like a schoolboy whenever he remembered her admitting to having a brain disorder. A broken sieve, for Christ's sake! What would she come up with next?

He stared at her for a moment, memorizing the way her hair fell in total disarray all around her. No matter how much tossing and turning she did throughout the night, it still looked as becoming as hell.

Lucas took a deep breath,
then
crouched to shake her awake. He knew from experience that it would take at least five minutes—another ten if he waited for her to start speaking coherently. But it had been his decision to bring her along.

Funny.
He wasn't a bit sorry.

"Another day, another hotel room,” Megan said, staring up at the sign for Gray's Hotel.
“How long will we be staying?"

"As long as it takes.”
She muttered the much-used line at the same time Lucas did.

"Are we Mr. and Mrs. Luke Campbell again?"

"Sure are,
darlin
',” he said, taking her elbow. He guided her into the lobby past several curious onlookers peering at them from behind their newspapers.

"We'd like a room, please,” he said to the man behind the desk. The clerk asked him to sign the ledger and handed him the key.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

Lucas spared Megan a glance,
then
nodded. “A bath for my wife would be nice. Where can I get one of those papers?” He inclined his head toward the many men reading copies of the
Wichita
Gazette.

"I can have one sent up with the bath, if you'd like, sir."

"Good. What time will the dining room be open for dinner?"

"Five o'clock.
Chicken and dumplings tonight.”
The clerk smiled and patted his stomach.

Lucas put a hand on Megan's back, leading her upstairs. Their room was at the center of a row of six others on the second floor. He opened the door and ushered her in.

"My goodness,” she breathed. A step up from the Eat ‘n’ Sleep, the room exuded elegance. From the heavy velvet drapes to the pale pink satin and lace bedspread, everything was done with exquisite taste and an eye for detail. And all the pieces matched.

"Do you think all the rooms are like this?” she asked.

"Probably.
Unless we looked like newlyweds to the clerk."

She turned to face him. “I'm sure he got that impression from the elegance of my dress."

Lucas took a step forward, leaving her just enough space to breathe without touching him. “It may not be a wedding gown, but I think you look mighty good in those trousers."

A trickle of excitement ran down her spine, but she quickly squelched it, moving away to unpack the saddlebags. She laid her things out on the bed before hanging them in the small wardrobe and folding them into the bureau drawers.

Lucas hadn't moved. He stood just inside the door, watching her. “Aren't you going to get settled?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"Why don't you put my things away?” he said, tossing his set of bags to the bed. “I don't have much."

She put her hands on her hips. “If I remember correctly, I'm your prisoner, not your wife.” She picked up the leather pouch and threw it back at him. “And I wouldn't do it even if I were your wife. Put them away yourself."

He advanced, staring down at her. “I could make you,” he said in a tone meant to intimidate.

She cocked her head and held his gaze. “You could try."