The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (25 page)

Boden heard
Willow’s sharp intake of breath.  She recognized the man’s voice as well; it was James. So, they’d been right about James being up to no good. Having no doubts about James’ willingness to follow through on his threat, Boden dropped his pistol.  He hoped Willow was ready to use the Colt he had given her earlier.

“Now step aside,” James commanded.  “She ain’t worth dyin’ for.”

“I’m not moving,” Boden proclaimed.

It was then that
Willow made her move.  She stepped from behind Boden before he could prevent it.

“James, I know it’s me you want.  Leave Boden out of this.” She presented the perfect picture of a woman pleading for her husband’s life.

James was buying it.

“Thanks for savin’ me a heap ‘o trouble, Willow.” James gun arm shifted in the shadows.

Boden held his breath.  His mind repeated the litany, “Shoot, Willow.  Shoot,” but his mouth remained unmoving.

She did shoot, the bullet striking James in the heart.  He died before he hit the ground.  Boden didn’t have much time to contemplate his wife’s aim before he caught French’s retreat.  Soon the sound of horse’s hooves could be heard fading in the distance.

He went to Willow then.

“Nice shot, darlin’,” Boden said as he folded her in his arms.  She shook within them, sobs racking her body.

“Hey, hey,” he said in a sorry attempt to console her. His hand rubbed her back. Her clothes were soaked through from the snow, and he realized she would be affected by more than emotional shock if he left her in them for long.

“I know I shouldn’t cry over him, but I can’t seem to help it,” Willow said around her sobs.

“The first time I killed someone, I threw up,” Boden admitted.  “I was eighteen and fresh at my job, desperate for money.  The guy I was hunting was barely older than I was.”

Willow’s sobs lessened as he told her his story.  He continued, “I didn’t have any trouble catching him.  The poster had said dead or alive, and I went for alive.  I tied him up that night and slung the rifle across my lap just in case.  He got loose in the night.  I awoke just as he leveled his six shooter on me.”

“Sounds to me like you were a lucky man, Ezra,” Willow commented, seeming calmer.

“I shot him reflexively and in self-defense, but it didn’t make me feel any better.”

“Do you still feel like that?”

“Every time I kill someone,” Boden admitted.  “You’re no better than the man you’re hunting if taking a life doesn’t bother you.”

“I was so relieved when I only wounded those men who attacked us in the north pasture.  I didn’t want to repeat the feelings I had when I shot Roberts.  And now, James didn’t give me a choice.”

The sobs started full force again, and Boden figured he’d best get her snuggled up by the fire before she made herself sick. He lifted her into his arms and headed toward the camp.  He set her on her feet once they stood in front of the crackling flames and began removing her clothes.

“What are you doing?”  she asked, nearly out on her feet.

“Taking off these wet clothes.”

Boden stripped off Willow’s clothing as quickly as he could and wrapped her body in the blankets.  He threw a few more logs on the fire, and suspended Willows clothes in the branches above.  He hoped they would dry before morning.  Having been soaked as well, his wet clothes soon joined hers in the tree limbs that were sheltered by the canvas.

He joined her under the covers with only one of the blankets separating their naked bodies.  This was going to be the hard part, sleeping next to the woman he loved while neither of them wore a stitch of clothing.  He drew her to him and hoped he could warm her in short order.  His mind conjured several faster ways to warm her, and he realized there would be no way for him to hide his desire from her.

“Boden?”

“Yes?”

“You’re warm.”

You have no idea how warm, lady
.  And he grew even warmer as she turned in his arms and snuggled closer.  Her dark hair lay across her neck, and Boden reached out a hand to smooth it behind her ear, revealing the creamy, smooth skin of her neck.  His hand trailed down her back from there. The thrill of touching her caused goose bumps to rise on his skin.  His wayward hand came to rest on her bare hip.  He kissed her temple, and she snuggled even closer.

He groaned.

He was out of here once she was asleep.  He’d build the fire up and bury James.  That should sufficiently take care of his current problem.

But when her breathing softened, he found that the sweet torture of her naked body tucked close to his was better than leaving her side and encountering the cold.

THE NEXT DAY DAWNED
gray and cold for Willow.  After the fiasco last night, she couldn’t believe how hard she’d slept.  It was amazing what the strong, protective arms of a man could do.  Boden looked as though he’d caught very little sleep.  She watched him through half-open eyes.  He sat by the fire with a cup of coffee in his hands and a rifle slung across his lap.  He looked absolutely determined to keep her safe.

Last night he could have saved himself a gunfight if he’d just handed her over, but he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d protected her with his body over hers.

She’d known men, but she’d known none like this one.

Reluctantly, she pulled herself from the ground, the blanket wrapped securely about her.  Her muscles ached in places she hadn’t thought possible.  Willow worked her way over to Ezra.  He looked up at her and smiled.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice retaining its early morning depth.  She cleared her throat.  “How’d you sleep?”

“Snuggled close to you,” Boden answered, a look of desire adding heat to his words.

Willow found the look heated her blood; other men had made her blood run cold.  “I stayed rather cozy myself.”

“Come here, Willow.”  Boden patted his knee.

She came.

He drew her into his embrace and kissed her fully on the lips.  “I wanted to do that all night long.”

She’d wanted it, too.  Willow would soon have to approach him.  Let him know exactly how much she desired him, but now was not the time.  Her body ached from yesterday’s abuse of it.  The hours on horseback, the cold temperatures, the gunfight, and the hard ground had all taken their toll on her person.

She changed the subject rather than address her feelings.  “Are my clothes dry?”

“I believe so.  Mine were.”  Boden set her off his lap and onto the log he’d been sitting on.  He began to pull various garments of hers from the tree limbs.

“Thank you,” she said when he brought the clothes to her.

“No problem.”

Willow began to dress beneath the blanket and nearly laughed at the look of regret on Boden’s face.  What did he think she was going to do, drop the blanket and dress from scratch in front of him?

“You’re a mean woman, Willow.”

She merely smiled at him.  Her smile turned to a wince when she lifted her arms to drop her dress over her head.  My, but she was sore.

“Are you all right?”  Boden asked, his face suddenly serious.

“Stiff, that’s all.”

“Yesterday was hard on you.”

“No harder than it was for you.”

“I’m not carrying a baby.”

“I’ll be fine,” Willow assured him.  “But make no mistake, I’m looking forward to a hot bath and a warm bed.”

“I’m especially looking forward to a warm bed,” Boden muttered beneath his breath as he stood to fill a cup of coffee for her and grab her a biscuit.

Willow didn’t let on that she had heard him.  “You’ll spoil me if you keep waiting on me hand and foot.”

“I aim to.  It’s high time someone spoiled you.”

They drank their coffee in companionable silence before Willow garnered the courage to ask, “What are we going to do with James’ body?”

“I buried him,” Boden answered.  “I’m glad last night was the first really cold night we’ve had. There’s nothing like digging a hole when the ground’s frozen.”

Willow surveyed the landscape to distract her mind from last night’s events.  “A lot of snow fell.  Looks like we’ll be facing freezing weather from here on out.”

“I reckon we will,” Boden agreed.  “I was hopin’ for an Indian summer this year.  We got an arctic fall instead.”

“What happens when whoever hired James finds out he’s dead?” Willow asked, getting back to the subject that really had her the most concerned.

“He’ll probably hire himself another gunslinger.”

She ignored the blunt statement, preoccupied with other thoughts.

“Boden, the last time I shot a man in self-defense I ended up on the gallows,” Willow explained, her voice trembling.  “James probably had friends.  I doubt they’ll just give him up for missing and move on.  Heck, French is in league with him, and he’s still around.”

“I sent a wire while we were in town. I have a friend of my own on his way to Devils Lake.  Marshal Owens will soon be here to take care of French.  A man like that shouldn’t be sheriff.” Boden smiled derisively and shook his head.  “Kern finally got me involved in Devils Lake’s business.”

“But –”
Willow began to argue, worry making her sick at heart.

“You have nothing to worry about.  Marshal Owens is a good man,
Willow.  He knows me well; he’ll believe the truth. He’ll take care of French.”

Willow contemplated his words and decided she could trust what he said.  Hadn't he said that Owens had practically raised him? Boden had proven himself a man to be trusted countless times.  The worry eased.

Boden rose and splashed the remaining coffee in his cup into the fire.  “I think we’d better make tracks.”

BOTH MEN STOOD QUIETLY
by a dying fire, light from the flames played softly across one man’s harsh features while another stood just outside the circle of light.  The one who could be seen sweated profusely despite the coldness of the winter’s night.

“Has our problem been taken care of?”

“Not quite,” French responded.

“Why hasn’t she been killed?”

“Well, she’s got Butcher Boden on her side,” French said and added silently,
not to mention, she’s a rather strong woman in her own right.

“You had the element of surprise on your side,” the other man reminded French.  “I need her dead.”

“I’ll get her dead, but I’m not aimin’ to lose my life doin’ it.  There’s no particular hurry with this job.”

“Not for you maybe,” the Boss exclaimed in angry tones. “Where’s James anyway?”

“She killed him.”

“James got killed by a mere woman.”  The Boss accented his comment with a disbelieving sigh.

She’s no mere woman
, French thought.

The Boss’s amusement faded as quickly as it had come.  “You kill her, French, or I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m plannin’ on it.”

“Well, quit plannin’ on it and do it.  Don’t mess up again.”

French looked the other man in the eye.  “She’ll be dead soon.”

“Just make sure she is.”

French took a long puff on his cigar, looking thoughtful before he spoke to the fire.  “She sure is a beautiful woman.  It’s a pity I have to kill her.”

“If you can.  So far she’s killed more men than you have,” the Boss said.

Anger seared through French before he defended himself.  “She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“Scared of her, are you?”

“A man would be a fool not to be.” French blew another cloud of smoke that was soon absorbed by the smoke rising from the fire.

“So, what are you going to do?”

French took another puff on his cigar before he responded.  “Relax, old man, I have a few ideas.  She’ll be rottin’ six foot under before long.”

“See that she is,” the Boss said as he stalked away. “Or you will be.”

French relaxed as soon as the man vanished into the night and envisioned how he would kill Willow Boden.  But it wasn’t her he really wanted to kill. The Boss be damned.  Killing Butcher Boden would do his reputation a hell of a lot of good. It would sure be nice if he could kill Boden somewhere public.  He’d probably even be able to quit his sheriff’s gig and take up gun slinging after all was said and done.  Sheriffing had never suited him anyway.

He tipped his head back and puffed on his cigar.  Smoking helped him think, and he’d need an excellent plan if he were to get rid of Boden and his woman.  He wasn’t going to leave Boden alive. French knew for a fact that Boden was the type of man who’d chase down his wife’s killer at all costs.

“Nope, he’ll have to go,” French said to himself. 

He bent and threw the stub of his cigar into the fire.  Besides, no one in town would care if Sheriff French killed Butcher Boden.  No one liked that damn bounty hunter anyway.

L
ATE IN THE AFTERNOON
, Willow and Ezra made it home.  Nathan met them in the barnyard, and expressed his worry at their delayed arrival.  Together the trio discussed yesterday’s events.  What they all wanted to know was what had happened to Sheriff French. Boden instructed Nathan to send out a search party. The time had come to keep track of the sheriff’s whereabouts.

After the search parties departed,
Willow and Boden agreed a bath was in order. Ezra put pots on to boil the minute he and Willow were alone.

Once the water heated, he filled the tub and encouraged Willow to bathe first. She knew then that she loved the man.  Both of them were aching, dirty, and tired, but he had once again placed her comfort before his own.

Knowing that she loved him wasn’t what truly worried her.  It was the telling him that had her scared.  Feeling love was one thing and confessing it was quite another.  As he exited the kitchen to leave her to bathe in front of the stove, Willow realized he’d be gentle with her love.

She sank into the steaming bath water and enjoyed its warming effect on her skin.  Her toes and fingers tingled as the heated water relaxed her.  Bathing in such comfort was a luxury she was still getting used to.

Willow sank further into the tub and rested her head against the lip.  Her body ached so badly she didn’t want to contemplate reaching her hands above her head to wash her hair, stretching out her legs to scrub them.

She didn’t.

Instead, she fell asleep.

BODEN DECIDED SHE'D HAD
plenty of time to bathe.  He called out to her from the parlor.  No response.  He walked to the kitchen, and what he saw there caused him to smile.

For the second time since their marriage, she’d fallen asleep in the bathtub.  This time he wasn’t going to slam a door shut to wake her.  He walked to the tub and knelt next to it.  He placed his lips on her neck and began tracing kisses down it. 

She murmured softly at his touch and he couldn’t resist placing his hands in her hair, rubbing her scalp gently, trailing more kisses on her face.

He woke her.

Boden prepared himself to pull away, to stop if she asked it of him, but he didn’t have to.  She returned his touch and placed her hands in his hair, rising slightly out of the bathtub.  He let his hands wander down into the water.  He caressed her shoulder first, then something softer, sweeter. She shivered.  He continued to explore with his hands, while he worshipped her with his mouth.

She moaned.

He wished the tub were bigger.  If it was, he’d join her in it.

It wasn’t, and frankly he still needed his bath.

He pulled away.

Her lips followed his retreat, and he thrilled that she didn’t want his touch to end.

“Boden?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he asked her through a haze of desire.

“I’m ready.”

Boden knew she spoke of her readiness to be his wife.  His heart swelled within his chest.  She trusted him with her whole self.

“I’m not,” he responded.

She sat up in the tub, so shocked by his answer that she’d forgotten to be modest.  He let his gaze caress her.

She blushed and covered herself.  “I don’t understand.”

“I haven’t bathed yet,” he said on a chuckle.

She smiled.  “Neither have I really.  I couldn’t get up the energy.”

“Where’s the soap?”

She searched the bottom of the tub with one hand as she shielded herself with the other. Boden suddenly wished he was that hand. He knew so many places he’d be looking for that soap–along her smooth legs, between her full breasts, across her taut abdomen…

All too soon, she found the soap and held it up.  “Here it is.”

“Give it here.”  He held out his hand and waited.

She placed the bar in his hand, and he began to rub it across her back.  She leaned forward in the tub, understanding what he was about. Once her back was finished, he moved to her legs.  He lifted one smooth leg from the tub and lathered the rose scented soap from the tips of her toes to where her leg disappeared beneath the water.  He gently rubbed her foot before placing the leg back into the water and turning his attention to the other.  Still conscious of her feelings, he hesitated to go any further.

As a result, she scooted ahead in the tub and arched her head back to wet her hair.  Boden wished he was a painter so he could capture the beauty of her–her head thrown back, the smooth column of her neck exposed, her breasts threatening to peek above the water.

Her hair sufficiently wet, she sat up, and he massaged the soap into her hair, working up a lather.  His hands felt big and clumsy entangled in her long tresses, but she didn’t seem to notice his awkwardness.  Instead, she closed her eyes and a soft sigh of pleasure escaped her. 

He rinsed her hair then with a fresh mixture of hot and cold water.  Then she stood for the final rinse.  His eyes traced the rivulets of water and bubbles as they careened down her body.

“You are beautiful. So beautiful,” he said, his voice reverent.

She blushed again.  “You can’t find me attractive now.”  She gestured at her rounded abdomen.

“I can,” Boden answered honestly.  She embodied the picture of femininity–strength and softness combined.  He couldn’t wait to show her how beautiful she was to him.

He offered her his hand and helped her step out of the water.  She all too quickly wrapped a towel–one Boden wished was a bit smaller–about her body before capturing her dripping hair in another one.

The visual feast was over.

“Now it’s your turn,” Willow said.

Boden removed his clothes and hopped into the tub faster than he drew a gun.

WILLOW
WONDERED AT HER
new found brazenness.  For the first time in her life, she wanted to see a man unclothed.

Boden didn’t take long to grant her that wish.  He stripped out of his clothes, revealing muscle and sinew.  Clothed, he had always appeared a powerful man, strong in a way she could never hope to be strong.  Now she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the perfect picture of masculinity.

No other man of her experience could ever compare to him.  And she didn’t want to compare them.  Yet, she also knew his attractiveness stemmed beyond the physical, that she would love him when he lost his hair and gained a belly.

He slipped into the tub, and for the first time, Willow realized why his tub was the biggest one she had ever bathed in–the man ate up the room in the thing. 

After a while, Boden handed her the soap, and she worked it along his back, the muscles beneath her hands hard, the skin warm.  Where her hands touched, gooseflesh rose.  And she realized then how much her nearness, her touch affected him.  It gave her a sense of power, and she had never experienced power in the presence of a man before.

She moved to his scalp next and worked her fingers through his hair, rubbing then scratching with her nails. 

“I can see why you like your hair washed,” Boden said on a sigh.  “This feels good.”

When she finished with his hair, he took the bar of soap from her.  “I don’t want you to have to bend over the tub.”

Willow appreciated his concern and let him have the bar of soap.  He finished quickly and stepped out of the bath.  She couldn’t help fixing her eyes on his form, and he made no attempt at modesty as he hastened to dry himself.

BODEN SWEPT WILLOW INTO
his arms and carried her into their bedroom.  He laid her gently on the bed and followed her down on to it.  The cold sheets soon warmed beneath them.  As Boden leaned over his wife, he reminded himself to come to her slowly, gently.

He began to awaken her senses.  His mouth met hers as his hands caressed her toweled hip and drew her closer.  Soon she was returning his touches, placing her hands in his hair, on his back.

She lifted herself up to him, and Boden removed the towels from her body, revealing her form to him.  She was beautiful, and he was lost.  But he fought for his control, knowing it was essential she be ready for what was to come.

He locked his eyes with
Willow’s.  “Are you sure?” he asked, caressing her cheek and waiting for her response.

She nodded.

He leaned down once more to kiss her, and it seemed she wasn’t so tongue tied when his lips moved over hers.  Their kiss soon grew hot, demanding, and Boden felt his patience slipping.

He tried to pull back only to be gently tugged down by a hand at his neck.  He reckoned he wouldn’t argue with the lady.

A bit more of his control slipped, and his kiss became increasingly intense.  Too soon he couldn’t taste enough of her.  The hand not propping him up caressed her body.

She moaned against his mouth, and Boden continued to glide his hand over her.  Her breasts were so full and round, the perfect fit for his large hand.  Suddenly, he had to know how they tasted, felt against his tongue.

He moved his lips to them and took his time giving each one equal attention.  Perfect.

Soon all his senses merged into one–touch.  He couldn’t feel enough.  Boden moved to cover
Willow with the length of his body.  He took care not to put all of his weight on her.

He let himself settle between her legs, but made no move to take his desire further.

Slow down, slow down
, his dazed mind chanted.

Boden wanted her to enjoy their first time as much as he did, if not more.  He was positive making love had never been pleasant for her, then again, it hadn’t been making love.  He braced himself on his elbows and swooped low for a kiss.  When his lips touched hers, he noticed a difference in her kiss.  It had stiffened.

He opened his eyes, his passion fleeing at the look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” If she’d changed her mind, he’d stop if it killed him.  And it probably would.

“I–I...”  She seemed to have trouble getting the words out.

“You, what?” he asked gently, rolling to his side.  Had he moved too quickly?  Scared her?

She looked away from him, her boldness having vanished with her passion.  She appeared to struggle with what she wanted to say.

He decided to help her out.  “Did I do something wrong?”

Still no answer.

He carefully gripped her chin and turned her to face him.  “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” she managed.

“Well?” he prompted patiently.

“Is there some other way?”

She’d finally managed to say something, but he wasn’t sure what it was she said.  He crooked a brow, relaying his confusion without words.

Her face grew red, but she managed to speak regardless.  “The others–”

She couldn’t finish, but she didn’t have to.  Boden understood clearly then.  Others had used the position he’d chosen to hold her down and force her, not to love her.

“I see,” he reassured.

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she looked thoroughly distraught.  “I know you’re different, but my body doesn’t realize it yet.  You’ve been so patient with me and I–”

He cut her off with a finger over her soft lips.  He replaced his finger with his lips and kissed her tenderly while his hands sought to restore her desire all the while being careful to stay beside her.  She responded tentatively at first, but soon she responded passionately to his touch. The time had come to offer her control of their lovemaking before his body threatened to take it.

He broke their kiss, rolling to his back and lifting Willow on top of him.  He’d bet the ranch no man had offered her this freedom.

WILLOW
WASN'T SURE WHAT
she was supposed to do.  She’d never lain atop a man before.  Understanding dawned quickly, however, and she recognized that Boden offered her an out, a sense of control.

Her heart lightened, and she smiled.

He grinned back.

And
Willow tingled from her head to her toes.   There was only one more part of her he had left to warm, and now she couldn’t wait.

She moved from a sitting position to stretching her body along his.  He was so warm and so ready for her, yet he waited for her to lead.

And lead she did. She kissed him with all the love and passion she felt, sliding her body along his in the process.

Rapidly the passion consumed her, and instinct took control.  Their bodies found their way together, and Willow felt no fear.  She felt free instead, free to set the pace, to love him as she desired.

Perspiration broke out on Boden’s forehead, and she knew how much he controlled himself for her.  She’d seen the full extent of lost control, but she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the two of them instead.

Something strange happened then—she felt tingly and weightless, out of her own control.  It scared her, but Boden’s soothing words urged her to embrace it, and she trusted him enough to do just that.