The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (32 page)

T
HE PAIN HIT WILLOW
unexpectedly.  One moment she’d been feeling achy and the next she was paralyzed by pain.  She took a deep breath to combat the spasm and another when that one failed to ease her discomfort.

She fought the urge to get Ezra from the chores he was taking care of in the barn.  From what she knew of childbirth, it’d be a while before she needed him.  She might as well allow the man a few more hours of peace.

She reached her hands into the washtub and scrubbed Boden’s shirt across the washboard.  The hot water reddened her hands, but she kept on.  Most likely it would be a while before Boden allowed her to do the wash again.

Actually, he’d barely allowed her to do it today.  He’d insisted on toting all of the water.  She’d been allowed to scrub and hang up the laundry, but that was all.  And she’d had to beg to do even that.

She smiled to herself.  He worked hard at keeping his ranch running, but he still made time for loving her.  Her father had been like her husband, sacrificing all he had for her and her mother.  She had never thought to find a man who was as kind.

She took his shirt out of the tub and wrung it out before placing it in the rinsing tub.

She finished the wash just in time.  Her water broke as she hung the last pair of jeans on the line stretched across the parlor.

Another pain hit her then.  They were coming steadily now, catching her at expected intervals.  The next one came more quickly than the last. Time to get Boden.  She would clean herself up first and change into a nightgown before she called for him.  No need to scare the man half to death.

She made her way carefully to the bedroom.  She removed her clothing, dried off, and placed a nightgown over her head.

There, she could call for Boden now.  Heading toward the front door,
Willow wished she had made him aware of her situation earlier as another pain gripped her much harder and faster than the last.

BODEN OPENED THE FRONT
door and shut out the snowstorm raging on the Dakota plains.  He left a storm outside only to find one inside.  Wash hung from the ceiling, and his wife stood frozen in pain.  His heart beat too quickly.  The baby was on its way.

“How long has this been going on?”  Boden said as he took several long strides toward
Willow.

“Most of the morning,” was her strained response.

“I ought to wring your pretty little neck, Willow Marie Boden,” Ezra threatened ineffectively.  He swept his wife up into his arms.

Striding to their bedroom, he placed her carefully in their bed.  The wind rattled the glass in the pane.  “You going to be all right while I clean up?”

She nodded.  “It should be a few minutes before the next one hits.”

“A few minutes is all?”

“Yes.”

“Woman,” Boden growled under his breath as he started for the kitchen.  A sneaking suspicion made him stop and look back at
Willow.  “Are you laughing at me?”

She couldn’t quite hide her amusement as she said, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Boden smiled back at her.  “I didn’t think so.”

A few hours later, sweat ran down Boden’s face and he lifted a sleeved arm to wipe it away.  Willow’s own body dripped with perspiration.  Sweat had even gathered on the windowpanes.  Some of the frigid night air outside would be welcome inside.

Willow was more than ready to have her baby.

“It’s coming,” Boden said from where he sat at her feet.

“About time,” Willow exclaimed around clenched teeth.

Boden looked up at her.  “Give it a big push the next contraction.”

And she did.

Boden caught the writhing, slippery infant in his hands.

“It’s a girl, darlin’,” Boden announced.

A heaviness settled over
Willow.  Why couldn’t it have been a boy, a boy who could eventually fend for himself?

“Hey, why the long face?” Boden asked as he brought the crying infant to her arms.

Tears threatened. “A boy.  I wanted a boy.”

“Look at her,” a confused Boden encouraged.  “She’s so small and cute as a button.”

“I know,” Willow said hugging the red, squalling bundle to her chest.

“What’s wrong with a girl?”

Willow sniffed.  “She’ll be so  defenseless.”

“I see,” Boden answered.  He brushed aside a few stray strands of his wife’s hair. “She won’t be defenseless, Willow.  She’ll have a strong mother and a very protective father.”

“What if we’re not here?”

“We’ll be around,” Boden assured
Willow.  “And if we’re not, we’ll make sure we leave her with kind folks like Nathan or Kern.”

Willow offered her baby a breast, and the infant wasted no time, suckling almost instantly.  She hoped Boden was right.

A fierce winter storm raging outside, Willow and Ezra fell in love with their baby.

FIGHTING HIS WAY THROUGH
the freshly fallen snow, Boden reluctantly left Willow and the new baby sleeping peacefully to do the belated evening chores.  The storm had abated during the birthing and now the sky was bright with winter stars.

His breath left a cold mist in the air, and he breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that mother and child appeared strong and healthy.

Unlike Willow, Boden was pleased the baby was a girl.  If she had been a boy, Boden wasn’t sure if he would have been able to stand it if the child grew up to resemble his unknown father.

He wondered briefly what
Willow would name the baby.  He expected she would pick a good, strong name.

The chores seemed to take forever to finish.  The cow balked entering her stall, the chickens hid their meager winter eggs, and the livestock refused to cooperate. A long and frustrating while later, Boden eagerly headed back into the warmth of his home.  Once inside he discovered that the infant still slept, but that her mother remained wide-awake.

“The chores took longer than usual,” Willow whispered to him as he washed up before joining her in bed.

Boden snuggled deep beneath the covers.  “My thoughts were preoccupied.”

“With what?”

“Wondering if you’ve picked out any girl names.”  Boden grasped the infant’s tiny fingers in his own.  She stirred slightly in her mother’s arms but did not wake.

“I haven’t.” Willow looked down to where his hand touched the baby. “I was set on having a boy.”

“Good.”

She looked up quickly and into his eyes.  “Why’s that?”

“Because I believe I’ve just the name for her.  It’s a strong name.  Perfect for a girl who will live her life with strength.”

“Sounds like you did put a lot of thought into this,” Willow teased, a smile easing her tired features.

“I did.”

“Well, what did you come up with?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth?”  Willow questioned.  “Quite a big name for such a tiny bundle.”

“She’ll grow into it.”

“Why Elizabeth?”

“Lot’s of strong women have been named
Elizabeth.  There’s St. John’s mother Elizabeth and Elizabeth I of England.”

“I suppose as long as one birthed a saint and the other ran a whole country,” Willow said, relaxing into her pillow. “We could call her Lizzie.”

“Well, let me have Lizzie then,” Boden said taking the baby.  “You need some sleep.”

She relinquished the baby with a trust Boden had feared she’d never have in him.  He held the child tight as her mother drifted off to sleep.

“Your mother doesn’t know it yet, sweat pea,” Boden whispered, stroking the soft hair on Lizzie’s head, “but she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, man or woman.”

Lizzie stirred a moment, and Boden took that as her agreement.  With that, father and daughter spent the next few hours getting acquainted.

T
HE WINTER SUN WAS
unusually warm.  The room grew warmer as the afternoon sun beat through the window of a shadowy room in Loretta’s.  None noticed the increase in temperature so much as the former Sheriff French.  He ran his finger around his collar when he supposed no one else watched.  He didn’t want anyone to notice his discomfort.  Discomfort hinted at weakness.  Men like these fed on weakness.  French tried to calm his nerves by watching the dust float through the shafts of light, but he was unsuccessful.

While his nerves contributed to the sweat running down his chest and back, the lack of a cool breeze wafting through the open window increased the heat of the chamber. The heat also did nothing for the room’s foul and stagnant smell.

French cast cautious glances at the Boss.  He appeared composed, unaffected by the heat and the odor.

The masked man crossed his legs and dangled an arm on the armrest of his chair. A quarter full brandy glass rested limply in that hand.  He regarded French.  French fought the urge to slouch in his chair at the tension in the air.

“It’s time to take care of them for good.”  The Boss looked French squarely in the eye.  French read the Boss’s contempt for him.  “They need to disappear.”

French met the other man’s look.  “I understand.”

“Now.”

French shifted slightly in his chair.  He’d have to move his plans ahead a few days.  Oh well, he was sick of hiding out.

“Don’t miss Boden.  He’ll hunt you down like a dog if you leave him alive and kill his woman. Besides, I’ve decided I need him out of my way,” the Boss leaned back in his chair and drew his brandy to his lips.

The Boss had changed his tune.  And French was glad, considering he’d always planned to kill Boden.  This way he didn’t have to worry about the Boss’s wrath.  French leaned forward.  “They’re taken care of.”

“I thought as much.”  The Boss took another sip of his drink.

French rose and left.  It was time to carry out the Boss’s orders.  He was going to take care of Mr. and Mrs. Boden, and then he’d be set for life.  He’d blackmail the Boss once he finished with the happy couple.  He hadn’t had much trouble putting two and two together.  He had the identity of his Boss figured out—he was Carter Boden.

But no matter how depraved French was he still couldn’t fathom having his own son killed.

A FEW WEEKS LATER
, the surprisingly warm winter air felt smooth and crisp on Willow’s skin, and she lifted her face to the sunlight. The breeze smelled clean, the scent of warming earth strong within it.  Lizzie had just fallen asleep, and as much as Willow loved being a mother, she also enjoyed her moments of freedom.

“The little squirt finally napping?” her husband asked her as he came up alongside Willow and placed a warm, muscled arm around her waist.

Willow sank into his caress.  “She is asleep at last.”

Boden removed his arm and started away from her.  “Good”–he swatted her backside as he stepped past her–“I could use some help in the barn.”

Being a new mother, Willow was unsure if she should be so far away from her little charge.  “What if Lizzie starts crying?”

Boden stopped his forward progress and turned to look at his wife.  “She’ll be fine.  This won’t take long anyway.”

“If you think she’ll be all right…” Willow hesitated still unsure of the wisdom of leaving Lizzie so alone.

“I am.  Besides, she’s been hogging all of your attention lately.”  Boden took a few steps back and took his wife by the hand.

It was the last bit of encouragement Willow needed.  “Well, I would hate to ignore my husband.”

“And so you should,” Boden spoke as he stepped even closer to his wife.

Willow lifted her lips slightly.  That was all the encouragement Boden needed.  He pressed his to hers.  And they enjoyed a warm kiss on a mild winter day.

FRENCH NEARLY LAUGHED. IF
only the criminals Boden had captured could see the man now.  Truth be told, the scene playing out in front of him fascinated him.  He’d never kissed a woman like Boden kissed his wife.  He always yanked his women to his side, bruising them a bit in the process.  The women tended to shy away from him at the local saloon.

Why wasn’t this woman shying away from this man?  And as much as French hated to admit it, Boden was a much bigger man. What made
Willow enter this Goliath’s embrace?

He looked harder at the happy couple, searching for the reason.  It was there for French to see in the way Boden gentled his touch for his wife.  Caressed her rather than ground against her.  For a man notorious for the number of criminals he had brought to justice, he treated
Willow like a treasure.

Now French remembered why he treated his women the way he did, he liked them with a bit of fight in them. If they came all willing, it was not nearly as exciting.

He smirked.  She wouldn’t be so willing with him as she was with Boden.  He’d have some fun with her, then he’d kill her.

In French’s mind, treating a woman as Boden treated his wife made him a man weak.  French would take the man as weak as he could get him.

The time for action had come.  French saw his chance.  He stepped out of the shadows.

WILLOW STRETCHED OUT A
hand and petted Kitty’s nose.  The horse turned herself away from Willow’s touch and cast a gaze at the filly sucking hungrily.  When the milk didn’t come fast enough, the filly butted at her mother.

“I don’t think I’d appreciate being butted like that,”
Willow said on a laugh.

“What do you think of the filly?”  Boden asked.  “Besides her being cute.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Willow lied.  She walked nearer the newborn and stretched out a hand.  The coat was still slick from the afterbirth, and she hastily drew her hand away.  Boden laughed at her.

“I didn’t think she’d be wet anymore.”  Willow stepped closer to her husband and before he surmised what she was about, she wiped her hand on his sleeve.

“Thanks a lot,” Boden said as he twisted his sleeve to see how much damage she had done.  “I think a little payback is in order here.”

And pay her back he did.  He drew her close and planted wet kisses on her neck.

Willow wriggled and giggled.

“Stop it!”

“Nope.”  Boden laughed.

The assault went on until Boden felt he had exacted the appropriate amount of retribution from his wife.

When Boden finished torturing her, Willow spoke, “I think it’s time I check on Lizzie.”

“All right,” Boden said.  “I’ll follow you in a second.  I’m just going to make sure everything’s all right here.”

“I think Kitty’s getting more attention than I did after I gave birth,” Willow taunted.

“Livestock is money. Wives are in endless supply,” Boden teased.

“I shouldn’t have left my pistol in the house,” she said smartly.

Willow would have taken his comments seriously a few months ago, but now she teased him right back. Taking his time with her hadn’t been easy, but his patience had been well worth it. His wife smiled at him, and he returned it with a light heart before attending to the mare.

Kitty had given birth to one of the finest fillies he’d ever seen.  It looked as though breeding Kitty and Beast again would be a good idea.  The newborn’s body was sturdy with fine lines and excellent withers.  Her appetite was healthy.  Pretty soon Boden would have an excellent herd known around the territory.

He heard
Willow close the stall door behind herself.  He would finish with Kitty and her filly quickly, then join Willow in the house.  Maybe they’d have a little time together before Lizzie awoke.

Movement outside the stall caught his attention, and Kitty’s ears perked.

“Protective mother, are you?”  Boden said, petting the mare’s neck.  “It’s only Willow.”

It wasn’t only
Willow.

The gunshot was nearly deafening in the confines of the barn.  The mare shied and the foal left off sucking to shiver at its mother’s side.  Boden made for the stall door, his heart pounding like a hammer in his chest.

Breathe.  Focus.  Instincts he’d hoped he’d never need again took control of his mind and his gun hand.  His Colt had slipped into his left hand without a moment’s thought.

Willow
screamed then.

The control he’d fought so hard for nearly slipped from his grasp.  He opened the stall door and knelt within its shelter.  He pointed his pistol in the direction from which the sound had come.  He searched the dusty air for the gunman and his wife. 

He saw her first. 

Then he saw French. 

The bastard held her securely to his front, his gun held to her head, saying, “You take one more step in my direction, and I’ll finish her.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Boden instructed, the words a command from his lips as he halted his progress toward his wife and her captor.

“I won’t hurt her as long as you give us a head start into Devils Lake,” French said, inching toward the door.  “I’ll kill the two of you there.”

“You won’t be killing either of us,” Boden challenged.

French laughed from deep in his throat.  “I know your weakness, Butcher Boden.”  The man said his name with a sneer.  “Follow in an hour, and I’ll make sure she stays alive for a while longer.”

“Let’s finish it.  Now.  Man to man,”  Boden challenged confidently.  The former sheriff continued to drag his wife from the barn.

“Leave her out of this.”  Even as Boden bargained with the gunslinger, he knew he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted.  The man may be a coward, but he was no fool.

“We’ll be finishing it man to man, but where all of
Devils Lake can see you die because of a woman.  When I win, I’ll defile your wife, and then I’ll kill her.”  French jerked Willow closer, sliding the hand that held her to him down her front.

Boden took a long step forward at the sound of Willow’s whimper.  “You’ll keep your hands off of her or you’ll never make it out of this barn.”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice about the matter,” French finished with a hasty retreat through the barn door.  At least, he exited as quickly as he could with Willow’s heels digging into the ground.

That’s my girl
, Boden thought as he watched Willow fight her attacker.

Boden made to follow, but stopped in his tracks when he heard the cocking of French’s gun.  The man was serious.  Willow was dead if he followed, within sight anyway.

Boden may not be able to head out of the barn, but nothing would stop him from saddling up Beast.  When French was out of sight, Boden would be on his trail.

He didn’t think he’d ever saddled up a horse faster.  He burst out of the barn only moments later, and nearly ran straight into a panting Nathan.

“We heard a shot,” he gestured to the other ranch hands behind him.  “What is it?”

Boden swung into the saddle.  “French has
Willow.  Take care of Lizzie.  Then follow me in with some of the men.  Make sure to leave your boys behind.”

“I’ll be there, Boden.”

“I know you will.”

Boden dug his spurs into Beast’s sides, and the stallion nearly flew out of the barnyard.

WILLOW INCHED AS FAR
as she could from French’s body, but the pain of the saddle horn in her stomach kept her from edging forward any more.

“Keep wiggling, woman,” French breathed in her ear.  “It excites me.”

She stiffened in the circle of his arms. 
Relax
, she commanded herself.  She needed to think of ways to escape French, instead of worrying about his touch.

They rode at a run and rolling from the horse at this speed could easily kill her before French could do the deed.  There had to be another way.

She bit her lower lip in thought as the scenery whipped past.  The ground was slick on top and hard as ice beneath.  It was a wonder horse, rider, and captive hadn’t slid to a disastrous stop thus far. Willow rather hoped they would.  It would keep anything from happening to Boden.

A quick glance over her shoulder assured her she still had some time before her husband caught up
.  What to do?  What to do?

“He’s not back there, woman,” French said in her ear.  “And when he catches up, he’s a dead man.”

“You must not know my husband,” Willow muttered under her breath.

He heard her and responded to her words.  “I know him.  I know you’re his weakness, and I know when I kill him I’ll gain the power of his reputation.”

That’s why French hadn’t killed the pair of them outright; he wanted the glory of killing her husband before witnesses.  The man wouldn’t succeed.

She wouldn’t let him.