The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (19 page)

It was quiet for a while, then Boden’s voice broke through the darkness again.  “Do you mind if I hold you like this for a while longer?”

“Scared to provoke me?” she teased, the light tone between them comforting.

“No, afraid I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know you’re safe.”  The words came sincerely from his lips.

“I’ll be fine,” Willow said on a yawn, but she snuggled into him anyway.

Truly, she did feel better.  Willow fell asleep more quickly and comfortably than she had in all of her adult life.

THE DARKNESS OF WILLOW'S
confession stuck to Boden like his shadow.  He’d have killed Roberts for her at this point had the man still been among the living.

That frightened him.

His fear meant he’d gotten his heart involved.  Hell, he admitted to himself, it’d been involved from day one. And his heart hadn’t been engaged in anything since he’d been a boy.  Other things had motivated him: anger, revenge, money.  They certainly weren’t the same as sympathy, caring, and protectiveness.

Yet he burned with anger.  He’d been on the Boss’s trail for most of his bounty hunting days, but the elusive man had always been one step ahead of him.  The time had come for him to pick up the man’s trail again. Until he did, French and Brady needed to pay for what they’d done to his wife.   He knew where those two lived.  A few punishments came to mind as he trekked to the barn, and he relished each of them.

But worse than his thirst for revenge was his growing desire for Willow.  He wanted to be her husband in every sense of the word.  Holding her close at night enhanced his desire for her. He wanted to make her his, erase the touch of the others. And he felt guilty for it.

She didn’t need his touch now, only his caring and understanding.  The next days, weeks, months–he refused to contemplate years–may end up being the longest of his life.

Boden walked into the house, and when he didn’t find Willow in the kitchen or the parlor, he called out.

“I’m in the bedroom,” she called back.

He strode to that room.  Her hair fell in gentle waves down her back, and her cheeks looked flushed.  “Taking a nap were we?” he teased.

Willow
looked up from where she fluffed his pillow and smiled.  “I think not.”

“Good, cause I want to show you something.”

He walked to the other side of the bed and helped her take the wrinkles out of the quilt.  He had a hard time concentrating on straightening the sheets.  It had been a long time since he’d seen her hair down during the day.  The tendrils were long and shiny, and he wanted to run his fingers through them in the light as he did in the darkness of night.  He cleared his throat.  When she merely looked his way with a question in her eyes, Boden managed, “I want your opinion on the horses.  I’m thinking of selling a few.”

“I see,” Willow replied, looking surprised.

Boden rounded the end of the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders when what he really wanted to do was bury his fingers in her hair and kiss her soundly. But “join me outside when you’re ready” was all he said.

He planned for Willow to pick a horse of her own, but she would pick one she thought less valuable if she knew it was for herself.  This way she could objectively tell him which was her favorite, and he could give her the one she liked the most.

Outside, Boden didn’t wait long for Willow to join him.  When she did, her hair was still unbound.  He liked it that way, but he wondered why she’d left it loose.  Before he thought better of it, he reached out and played with a stray tendril.  “You usually don’t leave your hair down.  I like it.”

“I have a headache today,”
Willow said, blushing slightly.  “Sometimes it helps to leave my hair unbound.”

Boden did think she looked a little flushed, her skin pale and her cheeks ruddy. “Why don’t you go inside and lie down?”

“It’ll pass,” Willow answered.

With that, the couple leaned against the corral fence.

“Which horse do you think is the best one in here?” Boden asked, gesturing to the horses in the corral.  “I’m having a hard time deciding.”

Willow
inspected the horses for a few minutes before she pointed a finger in the direction of a bay gelding.  She picked just the horse Boden hoped she would.  The woman did have a good eye for horses. She’d passed up more attractive horseflesh to pick out the solid animal.

“I’d say he’s the best one,”
Willow stated, “with those good withers, strong legs, and that muscled rear.”

“Good choice.” Boden hooked a finger under her chin and drew her gaze to his.  “He’s yours.”

“What?” she asked, her voice relaying her shock.

“A rancher has to have a ranch horse,” Boden explained.  “Besides if you’re going to jump any creeks in the future, I want you on a strong, hearty horse.”

Willow blushed.  “If I’d thought about what I was doing, I might not have been able to do it.”

“I doubt that, darlin’,” Boden disagreed.

“Thank you, Boden,” Willow said.

Boden figured giving a gift had never made him feel better.

IN HER DREAMS, WILLOW
had never thought to own an animal as beautiful as the one Boden gave her.  She watched him walk into the corral and easily catch the bay gelding she’d pointed out.

Her husband led the horse to where she stood along the corral.
Willow reached out a hand and petted the gelding’s muzzle.  The horse stood still for her affection, and Willow was pleased with her choice.  She had never received such an expensive gift.

“What are you going to name him?”  Boden asked.

The decision not taking her long, Willow said, “Reliance.”

Boden rubbed between the horses ears.  “Why Reliance?”

Unsure of what to share, Willow thought a bit longer before answering Boden’s second question.  “I never thought I could rely on anything or anyone.  I’m learning I can rely on a few things.” A pause ensued as Willow mulled over her words.  Dare she admit what she was feeling? “Myself and you.”

She was grateful she’d spoken the words once she saw the look on her husband’s face.  His expression showed her he knew how much courage it took for her to speak and how much the words meant to him.

“Thank you, Willow,” Boden said.  Her husband leaned against the fence separating them and placed a brief, warm kiss on her lips.  When Boden raised his head from her lips, he asked, “Feeling well enough to try him out?”

Willow
nodded and instantly regretted it.  My, she felt nauseous.  Fighting slight dizziness, Willow climbed up and over the corral fence.  Reliance stood parallel with the fence, and she slid onto the horse’s bare back.  The horse shifted slightly at the new weight on his back.

“I had thought to put a saddle on him first,” Boden said, a broad grin on his face.

“You broke Reliance, right?” Willow asked, adjusting her seat on the gelding.

“Yep.”

“Then I’m sure he’ll be the perfect gentleman if I ride him around the corral.”  That is if the dizziness or the nausea didn’t get worse.

Boden tied the lead rope into the halter so that it made a makeshift bridle before handing it over to her.  “Just be careful.  You two are new to each other.”

Willow could see her husband wanted to protest her riding without the aid of stirrups or saddle horn, but that he wouldn’t stop her.   She waited for Boden to take a step back before she nudged Reliance into a trot.  Horse and rider rode around the corral a few times at that speed before Willow, feeling better, urged the animal to pick up the pace.

She didn’t feel better for long.

She fought to keep her seat on Reliance’s back as she drew close to where Boden leaned against a fence post and watched protectively.  She pulled the horse to a stop in front of her husband, but hesitated to dismount.  She felt all out of sorts.

Boden stepped away from the fencepost.  “You don’t look so good, Willow.”  He took the lead in his one hand while he reached up another
and helped her down.

“Don’t feel so good,”
Willow said not sure she could keep her breakfast down much longer.  It would be so humiliating to…

And she did.

Boden didn’t step back.  Instead, he took hold of her hair and kept it out of the way.  When she finished, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the house.

“You’re going to bed, lady,” Boden instructed as he lowered her on their bed several long strides later.

Willow wasn’t about to argue.  She felt like she was dying.

W
ILLOW WAS DYING.

Or she was pregnant.

Her monthly had never been regular and stress had only added to its irregularity.  There was no doubt that the last few months had been stressful.  This being August, it had been a good three months since her last flow and she’d been denying the truth ever since the day she’d fainted after roping that calf. She had never done that before, but she’d heard of that happening to perfectly healthy, albeit expectant, women.  In fact, feeling dizzy had become commonplace during strenuous work or intense heat.

Yet there were other signs that she was expecting. Her breasts were tender, and of course, there was yesterday’s humiliation.  She had thrown up several times over the last months, but yesterday she’d been unable to hide her sickness from Boden.  She’d been so embarrassed, but he’d taken such good care of her, settling her in bed, getting her a glass of water...

The facts forced her to face the truth.

Willow placed her hands on her abdomen and imagined she felt a roundness there she hadn’t felt before.  Of course, it was too soon for her to show, at least very much, anyway.

One thing she knew for sure was that Roberts was not the father.  His touch had never been able to get her with child, and for that she had been glad.  She’d known she wasn’t barren because she’d been expecting before, but Roberts had beaten her to the point where she’d lost the baby.  She’d been afraid she’d never be able to have children after Roberts’ violence.  Now she was scared to be pregnant.

What would Boden think of the child she carried, especially when he discovered she wasn’t even sure who the father was?

The object of her thoughts interrupted her musings.

“Willow, someone’s comin’,” Boden called.
Willow heard the stress in his voice.

She stepped outside to see her husband making long strides in her direction. She walked to the porch rail and waited, sensing his tension.

“Probably just company,” she assured him once he reached her side.

He didn’t look at her, but kept his eyes fixed on the moving dot in the distance.  “I don’t get friendly company.”

He stood so close his gun brushed her thigh.  He made her nervous.  He had transformed into the bounty hunter he had been.

“Should I go in the house?” she asked, hoping to escape the tension.

He looked down at her.  “That’d be a good idea.”

She began to make her way inside, but she only traveled a few steps before a hand on her arm stopped her.

“My rifle’s over the door,” he said, concern evident in his eyes.  “Get it down and bolt the door.  Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

“All right,” she said and left him to greet their company alone.

BODEN DIDN'T HAVE TO
wait long to identify the visitor.  It was a stranger. His hand hovered over his pistol.

“State your business, mister,” Boden called when the approaching horseman grew close enough to hear him.

“Lookin’ for a job, mister,” the man said.

“Name’s Boden.” Boden’s senses were alert as he strode closer to the man’s horse.

“You needin’ help? I’m passin’ through these parts and need to make some money before movin’ on,” the man explained, halting his horse a few paces from Boden.

“Yes,” Boden said.  “How long can you stay on?”

“Through the winter, I reckon,” the other man returned.

“Well, I’ll give you a try,” Boden ventured.  “But there’s one rule you’d best abide by if you plan on working on the Box B.”

“And what’s that?”

“Steer clear of my wife.”

“Understood,” the stranger responded firmly.

“What’s your name?” Boden questioned.  He studied the man as he dismounted and approached him.  He didn’t look like an ordinary vagabond–his clothes weren’t tattered and he wasn’t wearing loads of travel dust.   Something about the man unsettled Boden.  He had grown as suspicious as Willow.  So far, the stranger had been nothing if not respectful, and he was clean cut to boot.

“Henry James,” the stranger answered.

JAMES WATCHED BODEN WALK
away from him and wondered if he could shoot the man and his wife and make it off the ranch with his life.  He figured he couldn’t. Various cowboys were at work in the barnyard, and a pretty face and a rifle barrel peeked out the window of the house.

Anyway, he’d already tried getting rid of Boden through force, and that hadn’t worked. He didn’t understand how the man had managed to evade several gunmen.  The woman’s arrival had seemed to help him.  Damn, but she had been a surprise, riding to Boden’s side like an avenging angel.  A man could do worse than to have a woman like her at his side.  It was too bad he’d been sent to murder her.

His earlier attempt on Boden and Willow’s lives had hardly been worth the trouble.   The Boss had reprimanded him and told him to leave Boden out of the killing if he could help it. Why the Boss was so concerned with preserving Boden’s life, James didn’t know.

James would have to bide his time. Not being able to take Boden out of the equation first put a hamper on his plans, but James was a flexible man.  Granted it was going to make the woman quite hard to get to, especially as smitten as Butcher Boden seemed with his wife, but James was nothing if not patient.

If he left Boden alive, he wanted to make sure the man had no idea who’d killed her.  James didn’t want to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

BODEN WALKED TO THE
house and called out for Willow to open the door.

She stuck her head out then, and he smiled.  “He’s just looking for work.  Come on out and meet the Box B’s newest hand.”

She leaned the rifle against the wall and stepped out onto the porch. The stranger stood at the bottom of the porch stairs.

“Mrs. Boden, meet Henry James.”

Willow extended her hand, and James grasped it briefly.

Boden put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close once the introductions had been made.  “The wages are thirty dollars a month plus room and board.  You’ll take your orders from Nathan, my foreman. You’ll be responsible for making your own meals.”

“Here I was hopin’ to eat your wife’s cookin’,” James smiled, and Boden felt himself slightly disturbed by its oily quality.  He shook off the feeling. He
was
getting as paranoid as Willow.

“Sorry, the little lady cooks only for me,” Boden returned.  He let ice slip into his voice, a subtle warning that
Willow belonged to him and him alone.

James wisely took the hint.  “I’ll be getting my stuff over to the bunkhouse then.  Nice meetin’ you ma’am.”  He tipped his hat and was gone.

Willow stepped out of Boden’s embrace once James walked out of sight and looked up into his face.  “Keep an eye on him, Boden.”

“Get that feeling, too, huh?”

“I just don’t like something about that man.  For one his handshake was limp.”

He laughed briefly at that, but he said, “I’ll get rid of him now if you’d like.”

Willow shook her head.  “I reckon I’m just jumpy.  Keep an eye on him, though, just in case.”

Boden nodded his agreement and added, “I see you were keeping an eye on us.”

“Thought you might need a little backup,” Willow confessed.

Boden smirked.  “So, now Butcher Boden needs his wife’s protection?”

“Didn’t you tell me everyone’s vulnerable once in a while?” Willow challenged.  “Well, I was ready in case this was one of those times.”

He leaned in and kissed his wife on the forehead.  “Thanks. And keep your pistol with you at all times from now on.”

“That bad?”

“He made me uncomfortable, too,
Willow.  I’d rather nothing happened to either of us.”

“With that I agree.”

They went about their business then, but Boden kept a close eye on Willow.  The trials they had faced lately most likely made them more distrustful, but it never hurt to be cautious. Where Willow was concerned, he wasn’t taking any chances.