The Outlaw Bride (9 page)

And there was the issue of babies. Lovemaking made babies, and Josie never intended to have them. She felt awkward when she was around little ones. It had taken her a long time to hold her little sister.

Josie flung herself down on her parents’ bed, but quickly rebounded when images of Dr. Annie and Dan making love flooded her mind. Of course they made love. They’d conceived a child, Laura.

Dr. Annie and Dan were so close that one could start a sentence and the other would finish it. What they shared was discreet, but Josie had seen the way they looked at each other, and she’d seen Dan give Annie an intimate pat on her bottom or a kiss when he thought they were alone. That had to be love.

Love was many things—from her aunt and uncle’s lusty, I-don’t-care-who-knows openness to Dan and Annie’s quiet sharing. But it was not what she had seen from the men who visited her mother, seeking temporary satisfaction for only themselves.

Tonight, Callahan had given her pleasure without asking anything in return. And he’d called it loving her.

He’d been right about what had happened between them. Their need for each other was too strong to be ignored. It moved of its own volition and touched the other, spreading like a prairie fire burning out of control.

As the sun came up over the Laramie Mountains, Josie made a decision. She had to take drastic action. She would have to let Callahan go.

Josie found Bear Claw in the kitchen the next morning when she went in search of breakfast.

“Good morning,” she said, having learned long ago that the Indian moved at his own speed. She’d find out why he was here when his stomach was full.

Josie poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the other side of the table. “Are you well?”

He nodded and took another bite of his biscuit.

“And your people?”

Bear Claw grunted.

Finally, when her patience was stretched to a fine thread, he put down his cup and let out a loud burp. “Good.”

“Do you have news?”

“Missing white man ride in wagons with Men of White God.”

“You found Ben Callahan?” Josie exclaimed. “How do you know this, Bear Claw?”

“Followed man’s tracks. Wagon stopped. Tracks gone. Man in wagon.”

“You’re sure it’s the right man?”

He grunted and stood. “Right man. Hurt, but he lives.”

Josie watched her mother’s old friend leave and ran to the bedroom to inform Callahan.

But that plan was taken out of her hands as Sheriff Spencer appeared in the courtyard with a man driving a wagon, cushioned and padded with blankets.

“I’ve come for my prisoner,” he told Josie as he marched through the house toward Callahan’s bedroom, the driver of the wagon behind him. His stride said he expected a fight over his announcement.

“He isn’t ready to be moved yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Will interrupted. “I can’t leave Callahan out here. The ranchers are getting restless. I don’t know what they might try, so until I get to the
bottom of it, I’m taking him to jail. That’s the only way he’ll be safe.”

Josie swallowed her retort. She knew he was right. “I won’t try to stop you, Will,” she said. “I’ll send some medication with you if you’ll treat his wounds and change his dressings.”

Will looked at her in disbelief. “You will?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d get him some regular clothes.”

Will reached her bedroom, caught sight of Callahan in the nightshirt, and burst out laughing. “I think regular clothes might be a good idea. I’ll send for some when I get him locked up.”

“Now, just a minute,” Callahan protested. “I’m not going to jail. You can’t prove I’ve done anything except get shot. I’ve got to find my brother. Josie, you’re my attorney, do something!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do much until the trial. But without a witness or the money, they can’t prove you’re guilty.”

He stared at her, his gaze filled with disappointment. “It isn’t me I’m worried about. If I go to jail, Ben could die.”

Josie saw the anguish in his eyes, and she knew she couldn’t keep the truth from him. “Your brother has already been found,” she said. “I was on my way to tell you.”

“Found?” Will said sharply. “Where?”

“Bear Claw tracked him to the wagon trail north of here. He must have crossed paths with a missionary train that came by about a week ago.”

“Then he’s still alive,” Callahan said, relief obvious in his voice.

Will frowned. “I’ll send a telegram to the officials along the way and have them take him into custody. Then, as soon as I calm the ranchers, I’ll go after him and the money.”

“I’m going with you,” Callahan said, poising himself for action. “I don’t care what you say. There’s something wrong or Ben would have come back.”

Will pulled Callahan’s arms behind him and tied his wrists together, then motioned for his deputy to help. Together, they carried him to the wagon, with Josie following.

“Maybe Ben just wanted it all,” Josie speculated.

“You don’t know my brother,” Callahan said.

Josie didn’t argue. She watched as they placed the agitated Callahan in the wagon. He’d seemed to calm down once he was tied up. But Josie had seen Callahan play possum before, and she thought he might be up to something. Then she saw perspiration bead up on his forehead and knew his body wasn’t ready, even if his spirit was.

“Be careful with him, Will,” she said.

“I intend to,” Will answered, and laid his rifle across his saddle horn.

As the wagon rolled out of the courtyard and down the road, a feeling akin to sadness settled in Josie’s chest, and she wondered if she’d done the right thing. And if she would ever see Sims Callahan again.

Josie leaned against the post at the front door and watched.

Behind her, Lubina’s voice cut through the silence. “I heard the two of you in the courtyard. It es good that he es gone.”

Josie felt the heat of embarrassment flood her face. She kept her gaze on the wagon, a speck on the horizon now.

“Dr. Annie and Mr. Dan will be back in a few days, and everything will be like it was,” Lubina said firmly.

“No, it won’t. Nothing will ever be the same again, Lubina.”

The housekeeper came to stand beside Josie. “You saved his life. That makes a bond between two people stronger than we can know.”

“I was thinking about what you said the other night, Lubina, something about a black-and-white horse that came to take Callahan to another place. But it wasn’t the horse that took him away. It was Will.”

Lubina sighed. “
Señorita
, I truly believe that it was the ghost horse who came. The Indians say that it always claims a soul. It’s just that sometime the person doesn’t die. Maybe the Indians are wrong. Maybe it returned a soul to a man without one.”

Could Lubina be right? Everything in her life had been leading Josie to this moment—her past, her meeting Dr. Annie, and her schooling. But nothing had prepared her for the confusion. She didn’t have to be with this man to know the need was there. Now the man was gone—but she was having trouble dealing with the aftermath.

“My grandfathers,” Josie said quietly, “believe that sometimes a person has to accept what fate sends them. I guess I’ve always done that, but I’m just now understanding that there are some things I have no control over.”

She thought about the two rascals she’d learned to love and knew that they’d been trying to teach her a life lesson. Both her grandfathers went straight for what they wanted and knew how to get it. If fate didn’t provide, they gave fate a hand. She knew they’d want her to do the same thing.

Three days later Will Spencer propped his booted foot on the brass rail of the saloon called Two Rails and a Mirror. He looked past the bartender to the spidery reflection of himself.

“Hello, Sheriff Spencer.” Ellie Allgood leaned on the counter next to him and smiled.

“I thought you had quit this job, Ellie.”

Ellie tried not to flush. “I quit entertaining men. Now I just serve drinks. I wanted to thank you for asking Miss Miller to defend me, but you haven’t been in. I hear you’ve been busy trying to find some missing money.”

“I think it’s with a missionary train heading for Oregon, but I haven’t been able to find it. Apparently the wagons left the main trail, and the rain has washed away any tracks. I finally had to ask the army for help in the search. How are things around here?”

“Everything’s uneasy since the townsfolk heard Miss Miller is defending your prisoner. You sure he’s guilty, Sheriff Spencer?”

“I don’t know. He and his brother were the last ones with the money. One brother is wounded and the other vanished with the saddlebags. It’s up to the judge to decide.”

“Josie doesn’t think he’s guilty. She’ll get him off,” Ellie said, with new confidence that made Will give her a second glance.

“Josie wants to prove to everyone that she’s as good at practicing the law as her mama is at doctoring,” Will said, frustrated. “She’s going to be the death of Dr. Annie yet.”

Ellie sighed. She didn’t have to ask him why he was so cross. Everyone knew Will had been sweet on Josie Miller ever since he came to Laramie—everyone but Josie. But Will was just as blind, Ellie thought. Will never noticed
her
either.

She hadn’t worried too much about her life, but since the trial she’d begun to look at herself differently. If what she’d heard about Josie Miller’s past was true, then she, too, could change professions and become respectable.
She’d quit entertaining men in her room, and she’d started changing the way she dressed, but her reputation was marred in Laramie. She’d returned to serving drinks in the bar. But that was as far as she’d go. The only way to change her future was to separate herself from the past. So far she hadn’t really found a way to do that.

“Funny thing about the younger Callahan,” Will said. “Folks in Sharpsburg never thought Ben had it in him to run off with the money, but he got away with it—so far.”

“So far,” she agreed. “But you won’t know the truth until you find him.”

“And so far I haven’t managed to do that. The people of Laramie are going to start asking what kind of sheriff I am.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “You’re an honest one. One the good people like and the bad ones fear. Everyone knows that, Will.”

“Maybe I need to make you my deputy, just to remind me of the obvious.”

“Maybe you do.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t ask for much pay.”

“How much would you ask for?”

“A dinner now and again, away from here.”

“I think Laramie can afford that.”

“Deal.” She held out her hand for a shake.

Will took it in his, and she felt his grip tighten.

“Thanks, Ellie,” he said. “You really are a good person.”

He started out the door, stopped and turned. “About that dinner, I was thinking that the hotel would be a nice place for a meal. Would you mind if Josie came along?”

7
 

“Do I know you?”

He was just waking up—though this could be a dream. Nothing seemed familiar, not even the woman leaning over him. She was young, small, with a heart-shaped face and sun-kissed skin. Her eyes, a deep brown, crinkled in concern at the corners, allowing, for just a moment, a hint of what might be called fear.

After a long silence that seemed to signal the waging of some kind of internal war, she answered softly, “I guess you don’t remember.”

“Remember?” All he could remember was pain. Every breath was sheer torture. His chest hurt. His ribs hurt. But mostly, his head hurt.

He glanced around. They were inside a small confined place with little light. At the end of their shelter he could see the night sky, glittering with stars, and below it the suggestion of a campfire. He was in a wagon.

She wiped his face, as though he were a child and she the parent. But he wasn’t a child. He was a man. He reached up, catching her arm, pulling it down on his chest—not because it was his intention, but because he hadn’t the strength to hold it up.

“Tell me,” he whispered. His voice was graveled and strained. His tongue seemed to fill his mouth, making it difficult to talk. “Why? How did I get here?”

“You were hurt, Jacob. I found you in the mountains north of Laramie, in Wyoming. Then Brother Joshua Willis came along and said that it wouldn’t be Christian to leave us stranded, so … well, we’re … here.”

“You called me Jacob?” he asked.

“You have to have a name. I couldn’t go on caring for a man without one. I gave you a name I … I like.”

The woman flinched. He glanced down and realized he was still holding her arm. He let go, but the colorless imprints of his fingertips remained. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You are forgiven. You’ve had a bad time, Jacob. You were half dead when I found you. You had a black eye and your face was badly bruised. I believe you were beaten.”

He flexed his muscles, moving his legs cautiously. They were stiff, but seemed to work all right. Next came his arms. Functional. It was when he attempted to lift his head that he found the source of his greatest injury. His head felt like a huge egg, a heavy cracked egg. If he moved, it would break into a million pieces.

“How long ago?”