The Marshal Takes A Bride (2 page)

“What about your husband? He let you come all this way without him?” Tucker asked, his curiosity about the man she had married getting the better of him.

She glanced at him, a sharp, watchful expression on her face. “He didn’t care.”

Tucker frowned. “How long you been married?” She turned her lips up, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Long enough, Tucker.”

He grinned and shrugged. “Never hurts to ask.” He wanted to ask her long enough for what, but he didn’t dare. Curiosity about just when and how she had met the man was eating at him; but he knew it was none of his business, and the doctor wouldn’t hesitate to tell him so.

She glanced at Tucker, her head tilted at an angle. Lucas was staring at the adults in fascination. “My husband wasn’t afraid of settling down. He didn’t leave in the middle of the night, without saying goodbye.”

“Good for you,” he said, picking up her bags. Tucker smiled and gave her a quick glance. She might not be spitting fire, but she was definitely peeved. From what he remembered of their night together, given even the slightest indication that she was willing, he wouldn’t hesitate to charm his way back into her bed for a little frolicking between the sheets. It was a damn shame she was displeased with him and married to boot.

But she had been a threat to his freedom. So in the middle of the night he had run as fast as he could get away.

God had a sense of humor, thought Sarah. After all who would have thought that the first person she would encounter when returning to Fort Worth would have been the last person she ever wanted to see again. But here Tucker Burnett was, walking beside her the short distance to her grandfather’s hotel, carrying her bags and chatting as though they were still old friends.

Fear had almost paralyzed her the moment she had stepped off that stage and seen her childhood friend, the man who had broken her heart, the father of her child.

Yet, part of her heart still leaped at the sight of his dark brown eyes and golden brown hair. And that was the part she would love to have surgically removed. They were doing so much now with modem medicine, why couldn’t they cut out that piece of the heart that just couldn’t get over a man?

Especially when that man was an unemotional, irresponsible, handsome, charming gunslinger—now marshal—who had been the only man to get close emotionally and physically to her in the last five years.

It just proved that tall, ruggedly handsome men, who had high foreheads, twinkling brown eyes and muscles that were shaped to perfection, were not necessarily good for a woman. This man had certainly not been who she thought he was, when he had slunk out like a fugitive in the middle of the night, after spending time in her bed.

“So how’s the doctoring business?” he asked. “You still the only doctor in Tombstone? How does your husband like the fact that his wife’s the only doctor for miles?”

“My, aren’t you the curious one,” she replied.

He grinned. “Don’t know until you ask, and I’ve never been afraid to ask.”

She shook her head at him. “I just hired a new man to help out,” she replied.

She wasn’t ready to respond to his question about her husband, because the man didn’t care. He was dead. It was none of Tucker Burnett’s business, and she would do whatever was necessary to protect her son. She would do whatever was necessary to protect the child she and Tucker had conceived that fateful night almost three years ago.

The son he knew nothing about. Sarah would lie just as long as it was necessary to protect her boy— and herself—for if the marshal knew that Lucas was his child, he would want the right to be with his son. And she couldn’t face Tucker every day.

“My practice is going very well. The gunslingers of Tombstone keep me busy, patching up their newest bullet wounds.”

He smiled. “You’re good at that. I know.”

She glanced at his chest wondering if the wound she had mended for him ever pained him, determined not to ask. Lucas wrapped his fingers in the material of her skirt and gave a sharp tug to get her attention. “Momma, cookie.”

She glanced down into eyes that were the spitting image of his father’s. The fear that had consumed her the moment she saw Tucker was for the time somewhat subdued, but she knew the anxiety could return at any second.

She smiled at the boy who had changed her life. She hadn’t known what to think of motherhood, but having a child had softened her. She was grateful for her son and most of the time managed to block out the memory of his father.

Until today, when she had seen Tucker standing there waiting at the stage depot.

She had never realized just how much Lucas looked like his father. Now it was clearly evident in his gaze and the stubborn set of his chin, and Sarah was amazed that Tucker had not seen the resemblance.

“Just a few more steps and you’ll meet your grandpa. Then I’ll give you a cookie.”

The boy frowned, not quite sure that he liked her response.

“Momma, hungry.”

“Lucas, I can’t stop and get you a cookie out of the bag. Wait.”

“What bag are they in?” Tucker asked.

She sent Tucker her best stay-out-of-this mother’s look. “Do you always ignore a mother’s wishes?” “Depends on who the mother is and if I’m trying to charm the child or the mother.”

The fear that Sarah had held at bay suddenly returned. Normally, she would have stood her ground, but she was tired, she was scared, and she didn’t want Tucker looking too closely at her reactions.

“They’re wrapped in a cloth in that gray bag you’re carrying.”

Tucker smiled that boyish grin he had used to charm his way into her bed, and she almost groaned. She was going to be here for only a month. Just a month of spending time with her grandfather and then she could return to Tombstone, and her life would go back to her practice and her son.

No more Tucker Burnett. She could put up with him for at least a month. Couldn’t she?

She watched as he opened the bag and searched for the cookies. He found them and held up a single oatmeal cookie for Lucas. “Is this what you want?”

The boy grinned at him and ran toward his outstretched hand. The sight of Tucker giving his son a cookie touched Sarah so much she had to swallow the lump that arose in her throat and look away.

She should never have risked coming home. If the telegram had not insisted her grandfather was ill, she would not have come back to this city where she took a chance of running
into Tucker Burnett, here in this place where they both had lived as children.

But she had come home, and so far Tucker had not tackled her biggest fear. He had believed her regarding her marriage, and she wasn’t completely lying. She had been married. But there was no need to tell him she was a widow or that the man she married had died before Lucas was born. There was no need to tell him that she had married Walter Scott James because she had known he was going to die, and she needed his name to give to her son.

Lucas took the cookie from Tucker.

“What do you say, young man?” she said, looking at the boy as he stood between her and Tucker.

“Tank you,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Sarah’s heart leaped within her chest, and she quickly glanced at Tucker to see his reaction.

Sarah watched as he smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair.

“You’re welcome.” He glanced at Sarah. “Let’s get the two of you settled in at your grandfather’s place.” What if something gave away the truth that Lucas was his son? What if he counted the months and realized that Tucker had been conceived the night they were together? What if Tucker asked her if Lucas was his son?

She was overreacting. She knew it, but the mother in her worried, while the physician inside her reminded her to remain calm.

Sarah glanced up at the hotel in front of which they now stood. “So this is Grandfather’s new hotel. Pretty fancy.”

“Wait till you see the inside. Your grandfather went all out on this one.”

Tucker opened the door to the El Paso Hotel, and Sarah quickly walked through, her hand wrapped securely around Lucas’s smaller one. She felt rattled. She hadn’t known that Tucker had come back to Fort Worth, she had never dreamed of finding him waiting for her at the stage depot, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to escort her to her grandfather’s hotel.

After all, sometime before dawn the night they had made love, he had walked out on her and never glanced back, not caring that his leaving had left her confused and grieving, until she realized she was pregnant. Then she had become angry, before finally she reached an understanding.

Tucker Burnett would miss seeing his son grow into a man, only because he chose not to be with her. And somehow reaching that conclusion had helped her to put his betrayal behind her, until now.

As she stepped into the entrance, her eyes took in the dark wood paneling lining the walls of the lobby, the brass fixtures, and the oak counter. A door led off to the right, and she could see a room filled with people sitting at tables eating.

The door shut behind Tucker, and he called out to the clerk sitting at the counter, “Charlie, this is Mr. Kincaid’s granddaughter. I’m taking her to the old man’s rooms.”

The man jumped up and nodded in greeting. “Welcome, missus. Don’t worry about anything; we’ll take your bags for you.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

This was certainly nicer than any hotel her grandfather had previously owned. But then, she had come home to a town that had changed much since she had left. Fort Worth had been merely a spot in the road when she had gone away to college, but now it had grown into a frontier town that leaned just a little on the wild side.

She had seen the brothels, the saloons and the gambling halls as the stage had rolled into town. Fort Worth was no innocent settlement. It was a cowboy’s last chance to sow a few wild oats, before he headed up the trail to Dodge City and sold his cattle.

The clerk behind the desk soon had two men carrying their bags to some unknown destination.

Tucker put his hand at the small of her back, and she flinched. No one had touched her there since he had all those years ago. No man had held her—no man had been in her bed—since Tucker.

Not even the man she married.

She stepped away from his touch, refusing to acknowledge the tingle his caress always seemed to ignite, refusing to pick up where they had left off all those years ago.

Sarah James was a mother, a doctor and a woman who didn’t need a man to take care of her. She did just fine on her own. The only reason she would even consider another man would be for her son. But she had yet to find one she deemed suitable, and it wasn’t a pressing issue at this time in his life.

“Your grandfather keeps a suite of rooms. Come on, I’ll take you to them,” Tucker said, leading the way down a hall.

“Thank you,” she replied politely.

At the end of the hallway, Tucker stopped before number one twenty-six and rapped on the door.

“Come on in. The door is open,” she heard her grandfather say.

Tucker turned the doorknob, and Sarah stepped through the door, her son in tow. The sight that greeted her eyes stunned her. Her grandfather was not sickly looking at all, but rather robust, older, but just fine. He was not near death as she had been led to believe from the telegram she had received from Eugenia Burnett.

Tucker watched as Sarah walked into her grandfather’s suite of rooms and couldn’t decide if he should stay or back out the door and let them have their reunion alone. But he was reluctant to leave; he wanted to know what had brought Sarah Kincaid home.

The old man looked up from his desk, and for a moment, Tucker was afraid Sarah was going to have to resuscitate her own grandfather. The man’s shock was so evident at the sight of his granddaughter and great-grandson standing before him.

“Sarah?” he asked. He stood and slowly came around the desk. “This is quite a surprise.”

They met each other halfway across the room and enveloped one another in a hug.

“You don’t look sick,” Sarah said.

Tucker glanced at Sarah, a frown on his face. What had she just said about her grandfather being sick?

“I’m fine. Who said I was ill? I’m just old,” her grandfather said, his arms still wrapped around Sarah. He released her, stepped back and gazed at his granddaughter. “You look wonderful.”

“Momma?” Lucas said, tugging on her hand. George Kincaid leaned down to his great-grandson. “Hey, little man, give your old grandpa a hug.”

The little boy reached out and tugged on his mustache and giggled. “Momma?” he questioned.

“It's okay, Lucas. We talked about meeting your grandpa.”

“How about instead of a hug, you just shake my hand. We’ll hug later,” the old man said, trying to relieve the child’s fears.

He reached toward the boy and shook his hand. The child laughed as if it were a game.

“I’m glad you’re here, but what made you decide to come for a visit?” he asked. “Did you think I was ill?”

“Yes. I was afraid you were dying. I received a telegram from Eugenia Burnett that you were ill.” Surprise almost left Tucker speechless as he turned toward Sarah, shock at her words stunning him. His mother had sent her a telegram?

Tucker scowled, suddenly suspicious that his mother was once again up to her matchmaking shenanigans, trying to get him and Sarah together. But how did she know they had a past. Did his mother know that Sarah was happily married and unavailable to wed her son?

Grandpa nodded and glanced over at Tucker. “Several months ago I was ill, and your mother came to take care of me. But it was only a bad cold.”

“Why would she send for Sarah?” Tucker asked.

Grandpa shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought I was sicker than I looked.”

“I’m puzzled. If Sarah wasn’t married, I would think that she’s back to her matchmaking shenanigans, but that’s not possible.”

Sarah’s head jerked toward him. “What are you talking about? Your mother’s matchmaking shenanigans?” Tucker frowned. “My mother has been trying to get all her sons married, and I’m the last holdout. But that’s not possible, since you’re already married. . .

Sarah glanced away from him for just a moment, and then she turned back to Tucker, the light reflecting off her eyes the way the sun glistens on water. “I’m not married, Tucker. I’m a widow.”