Authors: The Tender Stranger
The door closed and Erin sank to the floor, her legs giving way, her heart beating so rapidly, she thought it might burst from her chest. “Oh, God! Oh, God!” The words were a litany, a prayer with no answer forthcoming, it seemed.
Quinn was off with Sheriff Mason, and even though Ted might do battle with Estelle, the thought of Robert being in the midst of the conflict was too horrible to consider.
Erin struggled to her feet, grasping her coat and donning it quickly. She scorned the buttons, instead pulling it together across her breasts as she eased the door open. Over a hundred feet away, Estelle hurried between the bank and the hotel, bent over the baby in her arms like a hovering angel.
Demon, more likely,
Erin thought mutinously. She set off, her mind racing as she followed the path Estelle had taken. Reaching the corner of the hotel, she stopped, leaning to peer toward the entrance. Only two elderly gentlemen met her gaze, and she hesitated.
Facing Estelle in the lobby was not an option. No doubt the gun was loaded, and deep in her heart Erin was certain that Robert was not at risk, as long as she did not make her presence known.
“Erin.” It was an almost silent whisper, and her eyes
closed in relief. From close behind her, she felt the warmth of his body, and then his hand rested against her shoulder and she swallowed convulsively.
“Quinn!” She moved only a matter of inches and her back was met by the strong, tall body of her husband. Her head tilted back and she whispered his name again.
“It’s all right, baby. I’m here. We’ll take care of it”
“How did you know?”
His voice was flat, without emotion, softer than a whisper. “I didn’t…not for sure, anyway. I just had a feeling, about ten miles out of town, and I turned around.” His hands gripped her shoulders tighter. “I shouldn’t have left you until they were on that stage.”
His voice promised retribution as he drew Erin back into the space between buildings. “Don’t worry. I’ll get Robert away from her. You stay here.”
“She has a gun.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s the only way she could have taken him from you.” His big hands pressed Erin against the side of the hotel, and his voice was harsh. “Don’t move. I don’t want her to see you.”
Erin bit at her lip and nodded. Arguing with him would only be futile at this point, she decided. She was not equipped to tangle with an angry Quinn. His eyes were dark and cold, intense with an emotion that went beyond simple anger. And yet he was controlled, his body moving with a lithe, rippling ease as he rounded the corner.
Erin held back the moan that nearly slipped past her lips. Her body trembled in the wintry sunlight. A horse neighed not far away, and a woman’s laughter rang out from across the street somewhere.
Then the sound of jingling harness and rolling wheels
caught her attention, and she heard the rumble of a vehicle approaching.
The stage to Denver. It must be almost noon, and Ted would be waiting with their luggage in the hotel lobby. The big, boxy carriage filled the narrow opening just feet away and Erin crept closer to the corner of the building as the stage came to a stop before the hotel.
Voices intruded, several men calling back and forth, then two ladies walked past her hiding place. Without hesitation, she fell into step behind them, only to see the hotel doors open just ahead.
Ted Wentworth appeared, his eyes searching the sidewalk, his features tense. Behind him, Quinn was framed in the doorway. Around the far corner of the hotel Estelle appeared, a serene smile upon her face, her uplifted hand still holding the small gun.
“Ted!” she called brightly. “Come see what I have!” She hurried toward him and his head turned a bit, until he met Quinn’s gaze.
“Don’t let her see you,” he warned in a whisper.
Quinn nodded, stepping back from Erin’s view as she kept slow pace with the two women she followed. They drew to a halt next to the front window, and she backed against the white siding next to them.
Ted hastened to Estelle, reaching for the baby she carried against her bosom. “Let me see,” he said brightly. And then, as she smiled and relaxed her hold, he attained his goal. One hand rolled the blanket-wrapped child into his possession, while his other hand enfolded her fist, pointing the gun at the sky.
Her finger squeezed the trigger in an automatic movement and the sound was swallowed in the scream that accompanied it. A piercing howl of anguish followed her first shriek of anger, and Esteile Wentworth dropped to
the wooden sidewalk as if she had been the recipient of the lone bullet. Her body crumpled limply, and Ted stood over her, the harmless gun in one hand, a wriggling bundle in the other.
Quinn burst from the doorway and was met by Erin’s own headlong rush as her feet skimmed the boardwalk. His big hands snatched Robert from Ted’s arm and handed him to Erin. She enclosed him, bending her body to shelter his, turning away as she hovered over him as if to shield him with her own flesh and bones.
“Ted? Is she.?” Quinn looked down at the crumpled form at his feet.
“The shot went straight up, Quinn,” Ted said quietly, his voice toneless. He slipped the gun into his pocket and bent to his wife. “Estelle, get up.”
She mumbled beneath her breath, and Quinn felt a chill as he heard the disjointed words. Ted lifted his wife, gently placing her on her feet, holding her erect. The once formidable society woman was rumpled and disheveled, her eyes blank, her mouth slack, and Quinn’s anger died.
“I’ll help you get her on the stage, if you like,” he offered, then stepped back as the other man shook his head. “Can you handle it, Ted?” Quinn spoke softly, still at hand should Estelle’s condition change.
“I told you yesterday I feared she was out of control,” Ted said in a low voice, “but I didn’t think it would go this far.” He slipped his arm around her waist and took her weight upon himself. His eyes were dull with pain as he met Quinn’s gaze.
“I shouldn’t have let her talk me into this. I knew she was…becoming unhinged. I suppose that’s the nicest way to put it. Losing Damian broke her heart. She loved him.
The stagecoach driver left the hotel and a horn sounded, announcing the vehicle’s imminent departure. “Are your bags on top?” Quinn asked.
Ted nodded. “The manager took care of it, I’m sure.”
The crowd that had gathered stood aside, as if unwilling to intrude while Ted helped his wife toward the open door of the coach. Erin shrank against the front wall of the hotel watching the couple pass by, and Ted cast her a long look of regret.
Quinn helped lift Estelle onto a seat and saw Ted settle next to her. The coach was crowded, and they were the subject of apprehensive glances from the other passengers, but Ted ignored them and offered his hand to Quinn.
“Tell Erin…” The older man glanced from the doorway into the sunshine that flooded the sidewalk. Erin watched from her spot near the hotel door, her expression somber, a ray of sunlight catching her, illuminating her fragile features.
“Tell her…tell her I’m sorry. For all of it. I knew all along she was the innocent party. I said things.” Ted shook his head and leaned back in the seat.
“I’ll tell her,” Quinn murmured, jumping to the ground as the horn sounded again. He closed the door and stepped back, watching as the vehicle lumbered away, the horses breaking into a trot within seconds.
Erin stood at his elbow. He caught her scent even before he turned, felt the warmth of her presence and welcomed it with a smile as he swiveled to face her.
“I won’t even scold you for not staying put,” he said softly, his gaze admiring as he scanned her face. She was pale, but the strength of the woman he’d married shone through the anxiety of the past few minutes. Her
eyes were calm, meeting his with a warmth he welcomed.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered, and he nodded his agreement. His arm slid around her waist as they walked. The crowd, not unaccustomed to a stray gunshot, had already dispersed.
The sun and wind were drying out the mud, he noticed, catching Erin’s weight against himself as she stumbled over a rut. Her grip tightened on Robert and he wailed a protest.
“You’re squeezing him, honey,” Quinn told her with a chuckle.
“He’s really all right, isn’t he?” she asked, peering down at him, parting the blanket, the better to see his face. He squinted up at them in the sunlight, his mouth opening as he uttered another protesting wail, and then his fist flailed in the air and he caught sight of it. His eyes narrowed, and with a look of intense concentration he lowered his hand to his mouth and commenced sucking on the protruding thumb.
Erin laughed aloud, a carefree sound that melted the last vestige of ice around Quinn Yarborough’s heart. He’d allowed his emotions to become remote-lest fear take control of his actions-and had known that he must set aside his own safety for the protection of Erin and the child. He’d become that frozen man, that hunter, for those few moments, only to succumb to the laughter of this woman.
Never again did he want to be the stalker, the pursuer. He’d entered into the chase for the last time. His heart lifted as he considered that thought He’d found the sweetest bounty of all, in the arms of this bright-eyed creature who walked beside him.
Closing the gate behind them, Quinn snatched her up
in his embrace, his arms holding mother and child against his chest. The steps were mounted, the kitchen door opened and closed behind them, and he stood in the warmth of the small home Erin had created for their benefit.
She watched him, her mouth twitching as if she held back laughter, and he ducked his head to plant a kiss upon those rosy lips.
“It’s finally over, isn’t it, Quinn?” she asked, her cheeks rosy now as she responded with refreshing candor to his caress.
He shook his head. “No, it’s not over, sweetheart.” Lowering himself to a kitchen chair, he shifted her to his lap and opened the blanket, the better to see the child they held between them.
“It’s not over. It’s just beginning.”
Sweet Valley, Wyoming 1880
T
he woman sat on a quilt beneath a tree just beyond the side porch of the ranch house. A young boy leaned against her side, a book in his hand, and at his feet, a toddler curled beneath a corner of the quilt, as if it had been clutched in his hand and he had rolled with it in his sleep.
Quinn Yarborough watched from horseback, sweating beneath the summer sun, his face and hands deeply tanned, his narrowed eyes intent on the trio before him.
“There’s Pa!” A loud whisper announced his presence, and Quinn slid from his mount, tilting his hat back with one long finger as he watched the dark-haired boy spring to his feet. He ran quickly, his small face eager, his arms upstretched, and Quinn bent to catch him in his arms, lifting him high against the blue sky.
“We was reading a book, Pa,” Robert told him, his voice ringing out with enthusiasm. “Joey went to sleep, but Ma and me read the whole story.”
Quinn’s gaze focused on the woman who gained her feet with awkward movements. Gone was the slender form, the ease of motion she was accustomed to. Instead she walked with one hand at her back, the other resting on the curve of her advanced pregnancy.
Erin met his gaze, and her eyes lit with a message he never tired of reading within their depths.
“You all right, honey?” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but that would wait until later.
“I’m feeling sort of achy,” she answered, a message emerging in the tone of her voice.
“What do you think?” he asked, his gaze sweeping her length, noting the hesitation in her step.
Her smile was radiant. “I think you’re going to be up till all hours tonight, Quinn Yarborough.” And then she halted, the hand on her belly tensing as she closed her eyes.
“How long’s that been going on?” His long strides carried him to her side, and he lowered Robert to the ground. His arm circled her back. “Do you want me to carry you?”
She shook her head. “I want you to send one of the hands to fetch Roseanne. I’ll need her before long.”
He nodded. The next ranch was an hour’s ride. Within minutes after that, Roseanne, who was an old hand at this, would be on her way, probably toting her own newborn with her. “I’ll help you into the house, honey,” he offered.
Erin shook her head. “Just send for Roseanne. I want to sit on the porch for a while. I need to watch Joey while he sleeps.”
At that, the little boy beneath the corner of the quilt rolled over and lifted his head. “Mama?” He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then rose and headed in her direction.
Quinn scooped him up and delivered a loud kiss against the rosy cheek.
“Your mama’s gonna be busy today, scout. How about takin’ a walk with your pa.” The two-year-old wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and nestled against his shoulder, as if it were a familiar resting spot.
“I’ll help you up on the porch, Mama,” Robert offered, lifting his hand for Erin to grasp.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, her eyes tender as she scanned his youthful beauty. He’d been her salvation from the first. There was about him a sensitivity to her moods, as if he were privy to her needs even before she knew them herself.
“I love you, Mama,” he told her gravely, lending his shoulder for her balance, as if they had walked thus before today.
The hours went swiftly, as she had known they would. With the arrival of Roseanne, Erin had gone to her bed, aware that her time was almost upon her. Tater Folsom, who had followed them almost five years ago from Pine Creek to be their ranch foreman, tended to the boys in the big sitting room. Quinn was by her side, his hands soothing and comforting as she labored to bring forth his child.
And then the waiting was over. A soft whimper met her ears, matching her own smothered gasp. Then it escalated in seconds to a cry of outrage as the pink creature in Roseanne’s hands flailed her arms and legs.
“It’s a girl, Erin,” her friend said with a laugh. “She’s strong. Look at her kick!”
“Let me have her,” Erin whispered, leaning on her elbows to see better.
Roseanne nodded. “Just let me tie the cord. Here, Quinn. Take the baby.”