The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (11 page)

“I've been curious,”
Willow began.

Boden laughed.  “No good question begins with that phrase.”

“How'd you make it through the winter a couple of years ago?  A lot of ranchers lost their spreads.  The winter was a harsh one.”

“We lost our fair share of cattle, but not as many as some other ranches.  The way I have my spread set up allows for the men to keep a better eye on the herd.  We also pulled them in tighter to the barn before some of the bigger storms.” Boden looked thoughtful for a moment before he added, “Did a lot of prayin', too.”

“Common sense and prayer make a good team,” she said when he had finished.

“That they do,” Boden agreed. 

The conversation ended then, and a companionable silence ensued.  As they rode through the pasture, the intense sun beat down on Willow.  Late July was usually terribly warm, but today the heat was unbearable, at least to her.  She glanced at Boden to see how he faired, but he didn’t appear to be any the worse for wear.

And
Willow wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to control her nausea.  She’d drunk plenty of water and nibbled on some bread they’d packed, but she still felt as though she would be sick.  She pushed her queasiness to the back of her mind as Boden roped another calf and hopped out of the saddle to examine the struggling little animal.  While most of his herd had been sound thus far, this calf appeared to have something wrong with its right front leg.

The calf put up a fight despite his injured limb, and Beast stepped back to tighten the rope as he was trained to do, but the calf still refused to fall to the ground.  Boden put one hand on the rope connecting calf and horse and worked his way toward the calf.

The calf’s tongue lolled out of its mouth as it struggled to breathe with the rope tightening about its neck, and Willow squirmed in her saddle.  She hated watching roped cattle struggle to breathe.  If the calf would stop struggling, it would soon be out of its misery, but struggling was in its nature.

When the calf took off to one side, nearly tangling Boden in the rope,
Willow decided she’d had enough. She removed the rope attached to her saddle, forming a loop.  Taking hold of the spoke, she twirled the loop over her head before slapping it against the calf’s heels.  The calf hopped, placing itself in the loop.  She jerked her end of the rope quickly, binding the calf’s hind legs and dallying the rope around the saddle horn.

She backed Kitty up, giving the calf no choice but to fall to the ground.  Boden walked forward then and placed a knee on the calf.  Beast took that as his cue to let some slack into the rope, and Boden released the loop from the calf’s neck.

“It’s not broken, anyway,” Boden said of the calf’s leg.  He removed Willow’s rope from its hind legs.  “He’ll probably be right as rain in a few days.”

Willow
drew her rope back in and hung it over her saddle horn.  “That’s good.”

“And so is your roping,” Boden said.  “Thanks.”

Willow barely noticed his praise.  She felt suddenly dizzy, and she was too occupied with keeping herself in her saddle. The last thing she remembered before her vision narrowed was Boden climbing back onto Beast.  Then she fell down, down, down…

BODEN STEERED BEAST TOWARD
Willow, but was surprised when she fell out of the saddle right before his eyes.  Kitty shied to the side and stopped, seeming just as amazed that she’d lost her rider.

Boden hopped off of Beast and ran to where
Willow had landed.  He hadn’t heard any gunfire, so she couldn’t have been shot out of the saddle, yet she’d been fine just a moment before.

“Willow?  Willow?” he called her name as he knelt and patted her cheeks.  No response.  He lifted her upper body into his lap. What could possibly be the matter with her?  “Wake up.”

He felt her legs, her arms.  Nothing.  No wounds.  Her head was warm, but surely it wasn’t hot enough outside for heatstroke.  His shirt wasn’t even soaked through.

When he’d about given up on awakening her, she opened her eyes.

“What happened?” she questioned.

“I was planning on asking you,” he said.  He continued to hold her in his lap.  He stroked the side of her cheek, removing the damp tendrils of hair sticking to it.

He let Willow sit up on her own then, allowing the breeze to cool them both where they sat on the ground.  She tried to stand, but Boden took her hand in his.

“Just rest here a moment, Willow,” Boden said, “and tell me what happened.”

“I’m not sure,” she returned, settling back against him.

“Have you ever fainted before?” he questioned.

“Never without reason,” she said.

His jawline tensed.  “I would say you haven’t fainted then.  You’ve probably been knocked out.”

“I suppose.”

Boden ripped a long piece of grass from the ground and worked at stripping it of its seeds.  He was angry that anyone could hit a woman so hard that it knocked her out. 
Why are you so surprised?
he thought.  Maybe that’s why he was so mad.  He knew how painful such treatment could be for a woman to endure.

“He knock you out often?” Why had he asked that?  He really didn’t want to know the answer.

She nodded.  “He threw a good right.” She’d tried to inject some humor into the statement, but he didn’t find it funny.

“He wouldn’t have liked my right,” he said without thinking.  Anger propelled him to his feet, and he stalked over to Kitty, grabbing her reins and leading her back to where Beast stood.

Boden offered Willow his hand.

“I think I feel better now,” she said, rising.

“I think we’ve done enough for today.” He dropped Kitty’s reins and lifted her onto his saddle.

It was clear
Willow didn’t know what to think.  “What are you doing?”

“Can’t have you falling out of the saddle if you faint again,” he said.  Boden reclaimed Kitty’s reins and put a foot in Beast’s stirrup.

“I’m feeling better,” she insisted even as he climbed up behind her.  She leaned forward in the saddle in an attempt to put as much room between them as possible.

He looked into her face.  “A fall from atop a horse can kill you.  I’m not taking any chances.”

He didn’t settle in the saddle with her, but instead he rode behind the saddle on the edge of the blanket.  It wouldn’t be a comfortable ride home, but he’d left a decent amount of room between them.  He figured Willow wasn’t quite ready to share his saddle.

“All right,” she conceded.

He reached around her and handed her Beast’s reins.  “Head us home.”

Boden gave her a measure of control in giving her the reins.  Willow took charge of Beast and left Boden to his thoughts.  His mind went to work on all the reasons why she may have fainted. The only excuse he could come up with was the heat of the day.  He watched
Willow closely the entire way home.  He’d be ready to catch her if she showed any signs of fainting for a second time.

THE MOON HUNG HIGH
in the indigo sky and the stars dangled about it when a scratchy dryness in Willow’s throat awoke her. She swallowed hard in hopes that her saliva would wash the discomfort away.

It didn’t and she knew she’d have to venture into the kitchen, leaving the comfort of her bedroom.  She dreaded her feet touching the chilly floor.  The day had been warm, but the breeze coming through her window suggested northern winds were bringing another storm.

The cold floor greeted her toes, and she wondered briefly where Boden slept, for she hadn’t found him in bed.  She figured he hadn’t joined her because she hadn’t awakened him with another of her nightmares.

The moonlight streaming through the windows lit her way to the kitchen.  She lifted a dipper of water to her lips and drank.  She replaced it and took a step toward the warm blankets of her comfortable bed.  However, she managed only one small step before the sound of a shifting body came to her from the parlor.

Curiosity warred with common sense.  Curiosity won out, and Willow ventured toward the parlor. She peeked into the room, and a big smile spread across her face.  The infamous Butcher Boden looked absolutely ridiculous.  The man rested on his back on the parlor sofa, his head perched on an arm, his legs hanging over the opposite arm.  A small throw blanket covered his midsection, leaving him bare from the waist up and from the knees down.

He looked like a doll she’d owned once.  A doll too large for her dollhouse and its furniture, but she’d moved him in anyway.

But this man was no plaything.  Her doll had been made of rags, and her new husband was constructed of pure muscle from his jawline to his calves.  The moonlight glinted off his muscles.  Instead of being instantly afraid of his physical prowess, she marveled at it.  Those muscles must have served him well as a bounty hunter, lending him the advantage when the bullets ran out.  They seemed to come in handy around the ranch as well.

He was so strong, yet he had shown her mercy ever since the moment he locked eyes with her.  Shown her innumerable kindnesses.

She took the sofa’s measure and decided her small frame would curl perfectly into it.  Perhaps she should return his kindness and offer to switch him the bed for the sofa tomorrow.

That decided, she turned to leave the room only to step on the squeakiest of boards.

It awoke him.

He sat up.

She froze.

“Willow?”

Her mouth went dry again.  In her experience, it wasn’t a good thing to be alone with a man in a dark room in the middle of the night.  And she’d left her gun in her room.  Subconsciously, she must be coming to trust him.  Consciously, she questioned her intelligence.

“Are you all right?” he continued.

“Yeah, just needed a drink.”

“You’re not running off on me again?” he questioned, a grin tugging at the corners of his sleepy eyes even though his lips remained unmoved.

“No,” she said and marveled that she hadn’t even considered leaving him since he’d brought her home. Silence ensued, and Willow remembered what she wanted to say to him. “The sofa in here isn’t quite long enough for you.  Why don’t I sleep out here and you in the bedroom?”

“I’d feel better if you slept in the bedroom where it’s comfortable and private,” he returned.

Willow looked at him.  He was big to be sure, a famed bounty hunter for certain, but he had shown her kindness thus far.  He comforted her through her nightmares without taking advantage.  And, he was her husband.  Besides, she was no young, innocent girl no matter her age.

She had left innocence behind a long time ago.  And hadn’t the man proven he could control himself?  She cleared her throat and studied her feet for a moment before speaking.

“I see no reason why we shouldn’t share the bed,” she spoke.  “We’ve shared it several times already, haven’t we?”

“You know?” Ezra asked, surprised.

She nodded.

“Are you sure you want to sleep in the same bed with me?” he prodded.  “The parlor will be fine if you’re uncomfortable.”

Evidently he hadn’t expected her to offer sharing the bed.  His current bed looked extremely uncomfortable, yet he hesitated to accept her offer.

His hesitation decided
Willow’s mind.  “Sharing the bed is fine.”

“That’s settled then,” Ezra said, standing.  He appeared grateful to be leaving the parlor for his bedroom.

He made to move around Willow, but she stopped him with a question. She had to know he hadn’t misunderstood her.  “That’s all we’ll be sharing, right?”

Her cheeks flamed and her anxiety played across her face.  How could a woman who knew so much about life be so embarrassed at sharing a bed with her husband?

He lifted her chin and looked her in the eye.  “Not until we’re both ready.  If and only then.”

Willow wondered at her sanity as they made their way back to the bedroom.  She’d practically invited the man to do her harm. She climbed into bed, eyeing the gun on the nightstand.  It was there if she needed it.  That comforted her. He climbed in on the other side, and Willow held her breath, but he kept to his own side.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight,” she returned.

And they slept.

THE BREAKFAST WILLOW PREPARED
for him filled his stomach like no other he’d ever had.  The pancakes melted in his mouth and the eggs were as fluffy as clouds.  Oh yes, he hadn’t eaten so well in a very long time, and he’d told her just that.  She’d looked at him oddly for the space of a few moments before she smiled shyly and turned away to do the dishes.

He made a mental note to tell her when she pleased him.  He wasn’t used to verbalizing his thoughts, but for her sake and her cooking, it was worth the effort. He patted his full stomach in satisfaction and decided to get to work before she fattened his long, lean body like a spring calf.

And there was plenty of work to be done.

The barn door squeaked on its hinges as Ezra pulled it open.  Thin strands of light reflected the dust filtering down from the loft.  He supposed the barn cats were chasing down some hapless mouse.  He opened Beast’s stall door, and the animal ambled after him down the center of the barn toward the tack shack.  Beast stood patiently while Ezra curried his rather dusty coat.