Authors: The Tender Stranger
A rap at the door invaded her brooding, and she picked up the borrowed robe she’d spread over the quilt for extra warmth last night, donning it quickly. The wood creaked as the door opened a bit and Alice peeked in.
“You up, honey? I’ve got breakfast ready downstairs, and Mr. Mason is about ready to go on over to the jailhouse. It’s almost time for the morning stage, and he has a prisoner to take to Denver. I think he’s wishin’ he had Tater here to do the job.”
“The sheriff is leaving town?” Erin asked, looking back at the bed as she reached the door.
“He’ll be back in the morning,” Alice said. She peered toward the sleeping baby. “You might as well bring him along. You won’t rest easy with him up here and you down in the kitchen, if I know anything about young mothers.”
Erin stepped back to the bed, gathering up the sleeping bundle, pausing only to snatch up clean diapers from the pack she’d deposited on the dresser last night.
The sheriff was wiping his plate with a piece of bread when Erin entered the kitchen. He looked up, his gaze searching her face and then focusing on the baby she carried.
“You about over bein’ mad at me, young lady?” he asked with a wry grin. “I felt those blue eyes burnin’ holes in me all the way down the mountain yesterday.”
“I’m not mad.” Her mouth felt puckered, as if she’d sucked on a dill pickle, and she couldn’t resist needling the hapless sheriff. “I know you have to keep law and order, and I’m sure I’m a threat to—”
“I never said you were a threat to anybody, ma’am.
I just have to have you here when the judge comes in tomorrow morning. We need to settle this thing and let you get on with your life, one way or the other.”
Erin’s breath caught in her throat and she felt a stab of apprehension. “You mean the judge might send me to jail?”
Sheriff Mason shrugged, lifting his brow with a gesture that bespoke his ambivalence. “Can’t say that I know for sure how it’ll go, ma’am. There’s a couple fellas comin’ over from Big Bertha in the morning, and you’ll all appear before the judge and he’ll make the decision on whether or not you go to jail.”
“For land’s sake! This girl’s not going anywhere, Mr. Mason,” Alice said, sputtering her protest loudly. “What’s this world comin’ to when a fine young lady like this has to defend herself against the law when all she was doing was trying her best to—”
“Now, Alice! That’s about enough. You weren’t there, and neither was 1. All we’ve got to go on is her word against a miner’s.” He shrugged into his heavy coat and slapped his hat on his head. “You-just see to it you keep her right here today. No visitors, no leaving the house, no nothing!”
Alice nodded, her lips pressed tightly together, obviously not in agreement with the letter of the law. “I’ll do what I have to, mister, but I don’t like it. Mark my words, you’re wrong as wrong can be this time.”
“Too damn bad when a man has to defend himself to his own wife,” the sheriff muttered, gritting his teeth as he went out the door.
Alice followed him, pulling the door open as he stalked down the path to the street. “You just keep that scarf over your throat, you hear me? I don’t want you
down with the quinsy, riding in a drafty stagecoach all the way to Denver and back.”
She closed the door with a subdued bang and turned to her guest. “Men are the most obstinate creatures God ever created. All he’d have to do is take a gander at you and he’d oughta know you never did a rotten thing in your life. If you shot that rascal from the mining camp, I’ll bet my bottom dollar you had a mighty good reason.”
She’d done it—had shot a man and watched him die—and it was no laughing matter. And yet Erin felt a giggle erupt, and to her amazement found herself unable to withhold the mirth that bubbled within her. It burst forth in a chuckle, escalating to a full-blown laugh as she faced her champion. Robert opened his eyes and looked at her, as if stunned that she should awaken him so abruptly. And still she chortled. Until Alice nodded and approached with arms outstretched.
“Let me take that child.”
Erin relinquished her hold, amazed to find that tears were streaming down her cheeks, even as she stifled a fit of giggles. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she managed to gasp. “It really wasn’t funny, was it?”
“You’re about wore out, girl. What you need is a good cry. Wash all that heartache right out of you.”
And cry she did, her face pressed against a pillowy bosom while Robert sucked on his fingers and watched. Alice’s work-worn, hand patted Erin’s back, rising to brush her hair back from her face, and then patting again.
The storm subsided after a few minutes, and Robert’s suckling began in earnest. “He’s got himself thinking he’s hungry, sucking on that hand,” Alice said, watching as Erin mopped her eyes and nose with a handy diaper.
“Let me take him,” she said, with one hand unbut
the robe and gown she wore as she took the baby in the crook of her other elbow. “I’ll settle
him
down.”
She nursed him, watching as Alice loaded the table with an abundance of food.
It was the longest breakfast Erin had ever consumed. They ate slowly, Alice drinking copious amounts of coffee, having made Erin a full pot of tea. The sheriff’s wife was a good listener, and Erin found herself divulging the events of the past years with hardly a pause.
“That young man married you to help you keep the baby, didn’t he?” Alice asked, nodding her head, as if she answered her own query. “Does he love you?”
Erin swallowed a mouthful of tea and considered that idea. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “But he takes care of me and Robert. I don’t think a man needs to love a woman to marry her, does he?”
Alice grinned. “Sometimes there’s something else that convinces him to tie the knot. A lot of times the love comes later on.”
“He likes me, I think,” Erin offered, her cheeks pink as she remembered the night she’d almost begged for Quinn’s possession.
“I’ll just bet he does,” Alice replied. “And I’d be willing to lay odds that you’re more than a little in love with the scallywag.”
“He’s not.” Erin shook her head. “He’s from good people, and he has a thriving business back east.”
“Well, whatever you want to say, he got into your house and managed to make you fall in love with him, and all the time he was a bounty hunter sent to bring you in.” Alice looked out the window. “Land sakes alive, it’s past noontime already and I haven’t even set my bread to rise or started anything for supper.”
Erin grinned. “I don’t think I’m going to be hungry
for a while. We’ve eaten all morning long, Alice. And if I don’t use the outhouse pretty soon, I’ll be sloshing with all the tea I’ve swallowed. This baby surely won’t lack for milk today.”
The sound of a horse outside caught their attention as the two women rose from the table. Erin looked up expectantly, her heart beating a rapid rat-a-tat against her ribs.
“Who is it?” Her voice was thready as she glanced to where the baby lay in a clothes basket near the stove.
“Don’t you fret, Erin,” Alice said quickly. “There’s nobody going to hurt you here.” She bustled to the door and set the latch, then stepped to the window. “Tall son of a gun with a hat cocked like a gambler, walkin’ with a little bit of a hitch, with his saddlebags slung over his shoulder. S’pose it’s that man of yours, come down the mountain lookin’ for you?”
“Quinn?” Erin peered over Alice’s shoulder, then ran to the door, lifting the latch and swinging wide the heavy wooden barrier, lest Quinn have to wait outside. “Quinn! What are you doing here?”
She reached for him, tugging at his arm, and he leaned for a moment against the wooden frame. His eyes were shadowed, his mouth pinched as if he fought a weakness too great to combat, a weariness too consuming to ignore.
“I think I need to sit down, honey,” he murmured, dropping his load to the floor. Then, with an obvious effort, he stood erect and headed for the kitchen table. Erin insinuated herself beneath his arm and he leaned on her. She relished the weight of him, his hand clutching at her shoulder as he eased into a chair.
“How did you get here?” she asked, snatching his hat and working at the buttons of his coat.
“Rode Tater’s horse. I’m probably in a heap of trouble, but.” He cast a glance at Alice and lifted his brow. “Are you Mrs. Mason, ma’am? Sheriff’s wife?”
Alice nodded, her eyes glittering as she listened to Quinn’s easy drawl. “That’s my name, Mr. Yarborough. Just call me Alice, if you will. We don’t stand on formality here.”
“I hear the sheriff went to Denver this morning. You suspect he’ll have a problem with me finding a place for my family and moving my wife while he’s gone?”
Alice grinned. “I don’t know about him and I don’t have any problem, but I’ll warrant you could use a soft bed and a full meal before you start worrying about cartin’ off this girl and her child. No reason in the world you can’t stay right here till my husband gets back.”
“Alice was told to keep me here, Quinn,” Erin said quietly.
He nodded, bowing his head as he inhaled deeply. “Could I bother you for a cup of coffee, ma’am?” he asked after a moment. He looked up at Erin and his gaze scanned her face. “You all right, honey? Is Robert.”
“He’s right over in that basket, Quinn. He’s fine,” Erin said quickly. “We’re both fine.” She glanced at Alice’s back, as a cup was located and coffee poured into it. “What happened?” she asked in a whisper.
“Got hold of Tater’s gun and tied him up while I got my gear together. I loosened the ropes before I left. He probably didn’t take more than a minute or so to get loose.”
“I’ll bet he was madder than a wet hen.” She couldn’t suppress a chuckle, even as she felt worry surge to the forefront.
“Oh, yeah…he was mad, all right,” Quinn agreed. “Cussed up a storm, threatened me with everything
short of burning in hell.” He scanned her again. “You sure you’re all right?”
She shook her head. “You’re the one that got shot, Quinn. You need to be in bed, not running around the countryside.”
“I’m better. Not even dizzy anymore,” he boasted. He looked much healthier, Erin decided, watching as he swallowed half the cup of coffee at one gulp. “I got your money, Erin. Stuck it in that little wooden box of yours. It’s in my saddlebag.” He pointed to the set of leather bags he’d dumped just inside the door.
“You found it?”
“I watched you lift the floorboard the day we came to town together. I knew it was there.”
“You never mentioned it.”
He allowed a grin to lift one corner of his mouth. “It wasn’t any of my business, honey. I just didn’t think it was a good idea to leave it up there.”
She nodded. “I’ll probably need it. Do you think I should hire a lawyer?” She frowned and looked at Alice. “Is there even a lawyer available in Pine Creek?”
“Sure, we got Mr. Painter. He’s got an office in one corner of the bank,” Alice answered. “But I doubt you’ll need one, Erin. If that judge has a lick of sense, he’ll dismiss charges lickety-split.”
J
udge Herbert Beal peered through his spectacles at the woman before him. “You ready to speak your piece, young lady?”
Erin nodded, and Quinn sat on the edge of his chair, yearning with every bone in his body to stand by her side. It was not to be, the judge having made it clear that, in his court, tradition must reign.
“Did you shoot and kill the miner known as.” He lowered his head to read the paper before him. “Let’s see, now, Russell Hogan’s the fella, it says here.” His voice drawled the words. “Well, did you fire point-blank at the man?”
Erin’s chin rose and her words were firm. “Yes, sir, I did.”
“You don’t look to me like the kind to run around shooting people.” The judge cleared his throat and eyed Erin judiciously. “You want to tell me what happened?”
Erin nodded. “I heard two men outside my cabin. They wanted to come in.” She swallowed audibly and licked her lips.
Quinn clutched the arms of his chair, resisting the urge to go to her, lend her his strength. She looked so alone,
so forlorn, holding Robert in her arms, standing before the table where the judge had set up court, here in the jailhouse.
“I offered to give them something to eat. I told them I’d put it on the porch for them, but that wasn’t what they wanted.”
“What did they want?” the judge asked, prodding her.
“They wanted to come inside. They brought my cow and horse from the shed and threatened to shoot them if I didn’t let them in the cabin.”
The judge lifted his brow. “You killed a man over two animals?”
Erin shook her head. “No, sir. That was only the beginning of it. The smaller man stayed with my animals and the other one, Russell, came toward the house. He already had drawn his gun, and he still had it in his hand. Then when they threatened my baby. Anyway, the man, Russell, said it would be too bad if something happened to Robert. He said he wondered what would happen to the baby if something happened to me and Robert was left all alone. He was going to rape me, Judge.”
“Did he put his hands on you or hurt the child?” the judge asked, frowning.
“No. I didn’t let him. When he came toward the porch I told him to stop, and he wouldn’t. I pointed my shotgun at him and pulled the trigger.” Her arms held Robert against her breast and she rocked him to and fro. She was small, fragile appearing, and Quinn’s heart thudded within his chest, yearning to hold her safe.
“Was he pointing his gun at you? Did either man shoot at you?” the judge asked soberly.
“We didn’t do nuthin’,” a voice whined from behind Quinn, and he looked over his shoulder. A whiskered,
grimy miner stood by the wall, his gaze focused on Erin’s back.
“You’re Toby Jones?” the judge asked.
“Yessir, I surely am. This woman’s a killer, and she’s lyin’ through her teeth.”
“Come up here, Mr. Jones,” the judge ordered. He watched as the miner crossed the room to stand near Erin, who moved a step away, shrinking from contact with her accuser.
“Is this one of the men you say threatened you?” the judge asked her.
Erin nodded, and Quinn saw the shudder that traveled her spine. He leaned forward in his chair, ready to move should she need his protection. “Yes, he was near the shed,” she whispered.
“Did he draw his gun against you?”
“No, he was going to, after I shot the first man, but I told him I’d shoot him if he did.”
“You were going to shoot him with a shotgun from how far away?”
Erin looked over her shoulder at Quinn, an unspoken query in her eyes. “About a hundred feet, Judge,” Quinn said quietly, then smiled at Erin.
“Mr. Jones. You believed she could hit you from that distance?”
Toby Jones shook his head. “Naw, I didn’t think any such thing. But I didn’t see any sense in givin’ her a chance, so I left.” He glanced at Erin and glared his hatred, showing teeth that were darkened and sparse. “We were just funnin’ you, lady. And you couldn’t take a joke.”
Quinn growled, coming to his feet. A fury he’d been holding in abeyance powered him, and he stepped to the table, moving between Erin and her accuser.
“You’ll have to take your seat, mister,” the judge told him. “I haven’t even gotten to you yet.”
“This man threatened my wife in the worst possible way, Your Honor,” Quinn said between gritted teeth. Forgotten was the pain of his head wound. He’d have gladly taken on a whole damn posse for the chance to spend one minute alone with Toby Jones.
“We only have her word against his,” Judge Beal said sternly.
“Where are you from, Judge?” Quinn asked in a deceptively calm voice.
“St. Louis, Missouri, if that makes any difference.” He glared at Quinn. “Take your seat.”
“Anybody threatens a man’s property or his family out in this neck of the woods leaves himself open to whatever happens to him,” Quinn told him fiercely. “I came here from New York City, and even I know that.”
Erin turned to him. “It’s all right, Quinn. I’m fine. Here, take the baby and sit down with him.”
Quinn reached for the child, scanning Erin’s pale features. She was in control once more, her trembling a thing of the past, but her fingers were chilled as she relinquished Robert to his embrace.
He stepped back to his seat, the pain in his head responding to the anger he struggled to control, throbbing in unison with his heartbeat.
“The laws are the same in Missouri, young man. What we need to decide is whether or not these men were only asking for neighborly concern from your wife, or whether they were, in truth, threatening her.”
“Doesn’t it matter that someone shot Quinn when he took the body back to the mining camp?” Erin asked.
The judge lifted his brow. “Who shot him?”
“He doesn’t know. He was shot from ambush, and then left to die, without his horse or packhorse.”
Judge Beal looked beyond Erin to where Quinn sat. “That true? You were ambushed? Somebody stole your horses?”
Quinn winced as he nodded. “I’ve got a crease in my skull to prove it. And I’ll warrant if you visited the mining camp, you’d find my horses.”
“Well, I sure didn’t shoot you!” Toby Jones blustered. “There’s no need to be lookin’ for your animals at Big Bertha.”
“No one’s accusing you,” the judge said. “But I think it might be beneficial to check out this man’s claim, don’t you, Sheriff?”
Sheriff Mason cleared his throat. “Probably wouldn’t hurt a thing to keep all three of these folks on hand till we find out all the facts.”
“You got no reason to send me to jail,” Toby whined, turning to face the lawman. “I got a job to tend to, up at Big Bertha.”
Sheriff Mason gave him a dismissing glance. “I’ll be making charges against Mr. Yarborough here, too, Your Honor. He tied up my deputy and took his horse, then hotfooted it down here after his wife.”
The judge inspected Quinn from beneath bushy eyebrows. “You attacked a lawman?”
“No, sir. I just borrowed his horse. My wife needed me, and there was only the one horse.”
“Where’s your deputy?” the judge asked the sheriff. “Is he in the room?”
Tater Folsom spoke up from near the door. “Yessir, I’m right here. Quinn didn’t attack me, sir, and he loosened the ropes so’s I could get free right quick.” He
shot a grin at Quinn. “I guess I could understand why he did it, sir.”
“I sent a man back up the mountain with an extra horse to get my deputy yesterday morning,” Sheriff Mason said.
“Well, I think we need to get these folks behind bars till we get to the bottom of this thing,” the judge said sternly. “Sheriff, I want you to go to the mining camp and talk to the boss up there. Can you do that?”
Sheriff Mason nodded. “I reckon I can.”
“ In fact, I want you to take Mr. Yarborough with you, so he can identify his animals.”
“You’re puttin’ me in jail and lettin’ him loose?” Toby whined in a high voice.
“He’s not about to run off,” the judge stated. “His wife’s going to be right here where I can keep an eye on her.”
Quinn surged to his feet. “I don’t want Erin in a jail cell.” Robert roused from sleep at the abrupt movement and began to cry, a frightened, high-pitched wail. Quinn shifted him easily to his shoulder, patting his back in an automatic motion.
The judge appeared hard put to keep his demeanor official, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Well, I don’t see as how what you want has much to do with it, young man. She’ll stay where I say, and you’ll go where I tell you.” He lifted his gavel and rapped sharply at the table. “Court’s dismissed until day after tomorrow.”
Quinn stepped to Erin’s side, and she reached for the crying baby. “I’ll be all right, Quinn,” she whispered. “Just go with the sheriff and get this thing all straightened out.”
Tater had stepped forward, grasping Toby Jones by
one arm. The miner looked back at Erin, glaring from rheumy eyes. “Yer a damn lyin’.” The pressure of Tater’s fingers silenced him, and he winced, turning his attention to the deputy. “I ain’t the one killed somebody here. You’re puttin’ the wrong one in jail.”
“Don’t you worry.” The sheriff spoke up. “Mrs. Yarborough is headin’ for her cell right quick.”
“You got more than one cell back there, Sheriff?” Quinn asked in an ominous tone.
“Yeah, but we keep women prisoners across the way,” he answered, beckoning Erin with his index finger. At the back of the room Alice Mason waited. Once again Erin was given in to her custody. With a motherly arm around Erin’s shoulders, Alice led her out the door.
“You fit to ride?” Sheriff Mason asked Quinn. He eyed him, taking his measure. “I’m thinking we might wait till tomorrow morning. It’ll save campin’ out up there tonight.”
Quinn nodded. “The morning might be better.” He ached to follow Erin out the door, but his better judgment told him he was only about twenty feet from his bed for the night.
“Mr. Yarborough?” The voice of Tater Folsom called from the other side of the bars, and Quinn rolled to his side, then sat on the edge of the hard cot.
“Yeah, what do you want?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes. It was pitch-black outside the panes of wavy glass over his bed, and he shivered as a draft caught him from the poorly framed window.
“Miz Mason wants to check out your head wound tonight, before you leave in the morning. She told the sheriff you couldn’t ride out until she made sure you were fit to travel.”
Quinn stifled a groan as he rose to his feet. “Where is she?”
“Over at the house, sir. Better grab your coat.” Tater turned the key in the cell door and opened it wide, grinning in the faint light of the lantern in the other room.
“Where you takin’ him? You ain’t lettin’ him go, are you?” Toby Jones sputtered from the other cell.
“Nope, just doin’ what I’m told,” Tater answered, leading the way from the cell to the outer office. “Come on, Mr. Yarborough.”
Erin’s gaze met his as Quinn entered the sheriff’s house, the blast of warm air from the big cookstove more than welcome. She sat perched on a chair, pouring from a teapot, and the pretty little container hit the table with a clatter as she rose to her feet.
In three steps she was in front of him, her hands reaching to press against his coat. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, scanning her pale features, her shadowed eyes. “How about you, honey? Is the baby—”
“We’re fine,” she interrupted, shaking her head as if to dismiss his concern. “Sit down and let me look at your head.” She led him to the chair she’d abandoned and urged him to the seat.
In seconds her fingers were combing his hair from the scabbed-over wound, exposing it to the lamplight. Her indrawn breath spoke of her distress, and he soothed her instinctively.
“It’s about healed up, honey. Don’t worry, I’m about good as new.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the touch of her fingers against his scalp, inhaling the sweet scent of her body as she stood between his knees. His hands itched with the urge to enclose her waist, his arms yearning to enclose her in his embrace.
“Let me take a look,” Alice said, bustling to his side.
He felt Erin’s hands leave his head to rest upon his shoulders, and then the older woman’s fingers ruffled through his hair until she could examine the wound. “He’s right, Erin. It looks about healed over. Scab’s nice and dry.”
“You hauled him over here for nothing,” Sheriff Mason grumped. “He could have stayed in that cell until morning just fine.”
“He’s still recovering from a head wound,” his wife told him, her words chiding him. “He’ll do better in a warm bed.”
“Well, I don’t reckon it’ll hurt anything to keep him here for the night,” the sheriff said after a moment. “Long as the judge don’t know.”
The bed was too short, but the woman beside him was warm and welcoming, and Quinn turned to her. She curled against him, one arm around his neck, her nose tucked into the hollow beneath his ear. Her warm breath brought a smile to his face and chill bumps to his arms, and he shivered in response, tightening his hold on her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, and he shifted a bit, the better to press her breasts against him. She was soft and pliable in his arms, her mouth eager as she dusted the sensitive skin of his throat with her kisses.
His eyes squeezed shut, the better to enjoy the pleasure of her touch. She radiated love as the sun gives its warmth, Quinn decided, freely and joyfully. The day he’d taken on the job of finding Erin Wentworth had been a turning point in his life. One he would forever be grateful for. As a bounty hunter, he’d made more than his share of hard, cold cash. But the reward for this
expedition could not be measured in money. Bounty had never had such power to charm him.
Sweet bounty. She was prime, this woman he’d married.
“Quinn?” She whispered his name and he bent his head to listen. “Quinn, do you remember the night.” She hesitated, and he grinned in the darkness.
“The night we made love?” he asked, tipping his head to brush a kiss across her cheek.
“Well…whatever you call it…it seemed to me that I was.” She caught her breath. “You know…like I talked you into it.”
He muffled his laughter against her hair. “Sweetheart, I was more than ready for you that night. I only hesitated because I was tryin’ my best not to take advantage of you.”