The Lawman's Surrender: The Calhoun Sisters, Book 2 (24 page)

She refused to think about it.

She slid from the bed and slipped the nightdress over her head. The night had held fascinating discoveries about both herself and about Jedidiah. She felt like a different person altogether, and she found herself grinning at the hint of an ache that lingered between her thighs. It was as if she had gone through some initiation, passed into a new phase of life and become a woman grown. She was still smiling as she stepped out into the hallway.

Darcy was just coming up the stairs as Susannah stepped from Jedidiah’s room. They both paused and looked at each other.

Darcy bore a tray of eggs, toast and coffee. Susannah shifted her bare feet guiltily as she realized the woman was bringing breakfast to the sickroom—
her
sickroom. Darcy tilted her head to the side and glanced from Jedidiah’s door and back to Susannah.

“Lost?” she teased.

Susannah let out the breath she had been holding. “No, actually, I think I’ve found myself.”

Darcy grinned. “That’s the way you should feel. Why don’t you come to your room and eat something while I find you something to wear?”

Her stomach growled, and Susannah suddenly realized she was ravenous. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“And we can talk, if you like.”

“I think I’d like that.” Giving in to the inevitable, Susannah followed Darcy into the bedroom.

Jedidiah packed the last of his supplies in his saddle bags and firmly fastened the bags to the back of his Palomino. Nate brought out Susannah’s paint, saddled and ready.

“I’ll have wanted posters made up and distributed by tomorrow,” Nate said. “But are you sure you want to take the chance by riding?”

“Caldwell’s a wanted man now,” Jedidiah replied. “At this point, it’s probably better to ride for speed than to amble along in a wagon.”

“Maybe so.” Nate eyed him thoughtfully. “Funny, I thought you might want to delay your trip a little, take it slow.”

“Oh?” Jedidiah checked the cinch on the paint’s saddle, though he knew perfectly well that Nate would have been careful to pull it tight.

“I just thought you and Susannah might want to spend a little more time together. You seem to have gotten…closer.”

Nate knew. Jedidiah scowled at his friend. “Don’t you start with one of your lectures, Nate. For a kid, you sure are preachy.”

“I haven’t been a kid for a long time, Jedidiah.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me.”

Nate continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “When I met Darcy, I wanted her like I never wanted a woman before in my life.”

“Nate, do we really have to—”

“But when I realized I loved her,” Nate continued, cutting off Jedidiah’s words, “I was scared like I’ve never been scared before in my life.”

Jedidiah stiffened. “I’m not scared.”

The hell he wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the younger man.

“I never said you were, Jedidiah. I said I was.” Nate paused. “Loving a woman can mean a lot of changes in a man’s life. But most of the time, they’re good changes. And once you get used to them, you realize you never want to go back to the way you were.”

“I don’t want to change. I can’t change.” Hating the edge of panic in his voice, he scowled at Nate. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but some men aren’t meant to get married.”

“Like you?”

“Like me,” Jedidiah confirmed.

“Does Susannah know that?”

“Of course she knows. I’ve always been honest with her. I told her straight out that I’m going to be moving on after this job is done.” He frowned as he said the words. For some reason, the prospect didn’t seem as appetizing as it once had.

“I’m glad to hear it, because I certainly wouldn’t want to see that girl get hurt.”

“It’s my job to protect her,” Jedidiah reminded him.

“You know what I mean.” Nate sighed and clapped his friend on the back. “Just be careful, Jedidiah. And if you can’t be careful, at least be kind.”

They left later that morning. Darcy had somehow found Susannah a plain brown skirt and a shirtwaist that fit, and also a man’s flat-brimmed hat to shade her fair skin from the sun. Jedidiah wore his customary duster and battered hat, and the two rode for about an hour without exchanging a word.

Susannah stared at Jedidiah’s back. He hadn’t said much once she had come downstairs, dressed and ready to go. Except for a murmured question about whether or not she was too sore to ride, he hadn’t spoken since they left Proctor’s Corners. She wondered if he regretted what had happened last night.

She had thought she might have some regrets of her own, but her uncertain future made it all inconsequential.

Right now they were on their way to the next town where the stage stopped, to see if they could pick up the trail of Abigail Hawkins. But when time ran out, she knew that Jedidiah would do his duty and bring her to Denver.

She only hoped they had a chance to be together again. She didn’t want to die without knowing all there was to know about loving. She didn’t intend to leave this life without taking every bit of happiness she could from being with Jedidiah.

And if a miracle happened and she was not convicted, she promised herself she would smile when he had to leave her. She would remember only the good things, and she would cherish this precious time they had had together for the rest of her days.

Jedidiah rode silently, his eyes on the road ahead of him and not on the beautiful woman behind him. He couldn’t think about Susannah now, about what had happened last night, about the fact that he wanted it to happen again.
Intended
for it to happen again. His emotions were all churned up, and if he let his feelings distract him, they could both end up dead.

Just because there was a price on Caldwell’s head now didn’t mean the bastard had gone away. No, he was out there, watching and waiting like a snake in the grass, ready to strike at the first opportunity. He would be angry now, thwarted, frustrated as all hell that Susannah had slipped away from him once again. And he would not be too pleased with Jedidiah either—the man who had stolen her away from him twice now.

Part of him, some soft, romantic part of him that had been locked behind the rusty door of his heart for decades, wanted to sit on a grassy hill with Susannah and watch the clouds drift by and make slow, sweet love for hours. He wanted to linger over the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, and lose himself in the pleasure of holding her. The other part of him, the hard-hearted and practical side, knew that he had to ignore his own longings and do the job. If he didn’t, he could lose the very thing he was trying to preserve.

The stage they were following stopped at several towns. They would go through each one and see if anyone fitting the description of Abigail Hawkins had gotten off there. Luckily, the route the stage followed also headed in the general direction of Denver.

His chest tightened dangerously at the thought of surrendering Susannah to the authorities in Denver. He desperately wanted to find this witness who could save the life of the woman who meant so much to him, but he had to face the possibility that things might not happen that way. There was every chance they would not find Abigail Hawkins, and Susannah would have to go on trial for murder, alone with no one stand up for her.

Not quite alone, he corrected. After all, she had him. He would do everything in his power, invoke every friendship he had, call in every favor and marker to get her the best representation possible. But even so, he didn’t hold much hope that anything he could do would help. This whole situation was driven by politics, and political pressure was a powerful weapon. Judges could be bought. Lawmen could be bribed. The jury could be filled with people loyal to Senator Caldwell.

It wasn’t a pretty picture, so the best possible outcome would be if Mrs. Hawkins were to testify to Susannah’s innocence.

He had some thoughts on that himself. It was clear as day that Abigail Hawkins knew something, but what? Perhaps she was the killer, in which case it would be difficult—but not impossible—to convince her to testify. But at least he could take her into custody and give the jury something else to chew on. The other possibility was that Mrs. Hawkins had seen the real murderer and fled for her life.

Either way, the woman knew what had really happened that night at Brick Caldwell’s house.

But if they couldn’t find Abigail Hawkins, would he be able to remain objective as Susannah went through the justice process? What if all his efforts and connections failed and Susannah was sentenced to die? He would never be able to simply stand by and watch her be hanged. Should the worst happen, there was a very good chance he would betray his dedication to his duty and help Susannah escape to some foreign land where she was safe from American law.

He hoped it didn’t come to that, but he knew that if he had to choose between Susannah’s life and his career, he would make any sacrifice necessary so she could live.

The force of his emotions for her shook him as no danger ever had. The criminals he’d pursued and the wars he’d fought had only threatened his life. Losing Susannah threatened his mind, his heart and his soul.

He wasn’t afraid to die. In his line of work, dying was always a possibility, and he had long ago made his peace with himself.

But Susannah dying—that was something else entirely. It would be like losing a limb yet continuing to live, constantly in pain, constantly bleeding, constantly grieving for that missing part of him. He would rather catch a bullet than know she was no longer in this world.

And he would take a bullet, if it meant that Susannah would live.

Love was a funny thing. He had spent most of his life avoiding it, but now that it had a good grip on him, he knew he would never be the same.

No matter what happened, he would love Susannah completely—and forever. And he didn’t mind a bit.

Chapter Seventeen

They rode through two towns, but no one remembered a woman fitting Mrs. Hawkins’s description getting off the stage. Jedidiah pressed on, his face grim with determination, and Susannah obediently followed.

She assumed that he had decided to forget last night. It saddened her, as she had looked forward to being in his arms again. She hadn’t expected an emotional withdrawal so soon.

As dusk fell, they set up camp in a clearing not far from the road. Jedidiah built a fire and then went off to get some water from the stream for coffee. Susannah busied herself getting together the ingredients for their dinner.

She had just pulled out the frying pan when she heard a step behind her. Holding the iron skillet as a weapon, she whirled around. Jedidiah stopped at the edge of the clearing, water dripping from the coffee pot in his hand. He raised his brows in amusement. “Problem, sweetheart?”

Her heart pounding like a locomotive, she slowly lowered the skillet. “I didn’t know who it was.”

His face sobered as he approached her. “I should have thought of that and left you the rifle.”

“That wouldn’t help any,” she said as he knelt down to place the coffee pot on the ground beside the kindling she had gathered.

“You can’t shoot?”

“Not worth a nickel.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “What about all the times I gave you my Colt? You always said you could shoot.”

She shrugged and avoided his gaze. “No, I said I could defend myself. Most of the time the sight of a woman with a gun is all it takes to scare a man off. Besides, anyone can hit a target at point blank range.”

“You took a hell of a chance.” He stared at her, irritation warring with concern on his face. “Have you
ever
shot a gun?”

“Of course,” she retorted. “My father figured it might encourage the young men to stay honorable. I just don’t tend to hit what I aim at.”

Jedidiah stood. “I can’t believe there’s something Susannah Calhoun can’t do.”

“No one can do everything.”

He gave her a roguish grin that made her pulse skip. “Please, you’re spoiling my image of you.”

He clearly meant the remark in jest, but she took it seriously. “I’ve heard that from a lot of men,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Most of the time the image is too perfect anyway. No real woman could live up to it.”

“Don’t lump me in with those mooncalves who chased after you,” he shot back. “I know exactly how you are, Susannah Calhoun, every sensual, clever, stubborn inch of you.”

The growl in his voice surprised her. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said softly, watching him with wide eyes.

“All damned day I’ve been trying not to think of you,” he continued. “It’s my job to protect you, by God, and I can’t watch for danger if I’m looking into those blue eyes of yours.”

“Is that what’s been going on?” she asked with relief. “I thought you regretted last night.”

“Not hardly.” He reached for her, the heat in his dark eyes making her step forward. Her pulse skidded through her veins, and her breath hitched as he caught her wrist.

“What’s gotten into you?” she breathed, thrilling at the way he pulled her feminine form hard against his masculine one.