Outlaw Wife. Ana Seymour

shrugged. “Love at first sight? You were swept off your feet in the middle of selling your cattle in Laramie and couldn’t resist her charms.”

      Cissy jumped off the desk. Her face was flushed and she was obviously upset. “You’re doing this because of me,” she accused her father.

      Now Simon looked even more mystified. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      The sheriff walked over to put a gentle arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Now, honey, weren’t you the first one who said we shouldn’t keep this girl locked up?”

      “But I never suggested that you marry her off to Simon. That little scheme came out of that devious brain of yours. And it’s not going to work.”

      Simon watched as Cissy pulled herself away from her father’s comforting arm. Was it possible that there was some truth to her accusation? He, himself, would never have accused John of being devious, but the sheriff was one of the smartest men he knew. And there was nothing more important to John than his daughter’s happiness. “I want to talk with you alone,” he told the older man.

      John nodded and reached over to pull open the door. “We’ll be right back, ladies,” he said, giving his daughter a worried smile.

      Once they were outside, Simon asked directly, “What exactly is going on here, John? What does Willow Davis’s future have to do with me and Cissy?”

      John’s gray sideburns twitched as he searched for the right words. “Nothing. The girl needs a new identity. And you’re in a position to provide it for her. You can let Harvey in on it or not, as you choose. But as far as the rest of this town is concerned, she’ll be Mrs. Simon Grant, your lawful, wedded wife—a beautiful young thing who spun your head around so fast that you ended up marrying her. She’s plenty pretty enough to make the story believable.”

      Simon looked at him suspiciously. “And this has nothing to do with my breakup with Cissy?”

      John’s eyes were grave. “I won’t lie to you, Simon. Cissy hasn’t been able to move on the way I’d like since you two split. She should be looking out for some other young fellow. Why, Will Waxton would have her in a minute if she’d so much as look his way.”

      Simon looked down at the wooden sidewalk. “Would he make her happy, do you think?”

      “How the hell do I know? Maybe she should go back East to that nursing school she always talked about before she took it into her head that she wanted you. All I know is that if it didn’t happen between the two of you in the two years you dawdled on about it, it probably never will. And I’m not about to let her spend the rest of her life mourning what might have been.”

      Simon clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. It seemed to him that the sheriff had lost something in height in the past couple years, but perhaps it was just that Simon had grown to tower over him. “Don’t you think it’s a little drastic to marry me off so that your daughter can be happy?” he asked with a twist of humor.

      John’s eyes twinkled. “I call it divine justice.”

      Simon rolled his eyes.

      “The lass did save your life, Simon.”

      “Look, John. I’ll talk to Cissy. I’ll make her see that she can’t refuse to look at new opportunities because of me. But there’s no way I’m going to hitch myself to some…”

      The door to the sheriffs office opened and the object of their conversation stepped between them. “I think you should do it, Simon,” Cissy said in a low, calm voice.

      “Then you’re crazy, too,” he snapped.

      “If it doesn’t work out, you can always get a quiet divorce down the line….”

      All humor gone from the situation, Simon looked from the sheriff to his daughter as if both had suddenly sprouted tulips from their heads. “If what doesn’t work out?” he shouted. “You can’t be suggesting that there could ever be any real marriage between me and this…this…”

      “Woman, Simon,” Cissy filled in. “Marriages usually take place between a man and a woman.”

      Simon shook his head and stepped backward, nearly tumbling off the sidewalk. “I should’ve just kept on riding back to the ranch,” he mumbled.

      “And why didn’t you?” John asked sharply. “How come you came back?”

      Simon hesitated. “Well…some of the things Sneed said just stuck in my craw.”

      John gave a satisfied nod. “Of course they did. They would to any decent man—especially one who owes a debt to the female Sneed’s got his eyes on. So what’ll it be? Do I release Miss Davis to Sneed…or to you?”

      

      Simon was still feeling the way he had when he was fifteen and a bull in the south pasture had broadsided him, tossing him into the air and knocking all the air out of his body with a great whoosh.

      In one long, insane afternoon, his entire, orderly existence had been shattered. He was officially, signed and sealed by Judge Abercrombie, with Cissy and John as witnesses, a married man. It defied belief.

      When he had some time to think about it all, he’d try to figure out exactly why he hadn’t been able to hold firm against the relentless onslaught of both Walkers. He suspected that deep down it had something to with the look of fear he’d glimpsed so fleetingly in the outlaw girl’s blue eyes. His wife’s eyes. Lordamercy.

      She rode alongside him in silence on Cissy’s horse. John and his daughter, who had pretty much taken over the arrangements as Simon and Willow played their parts with dazed acquiescence, had decided that it wouldn’t do to have Willow claim her own horse, which was in legal custody at the livery. They didn’t think that either Sneed or Marshal Torrance would spend much effort looking for Davis’s daughter, but if they should decide to ride out to Saddle Ridge, it would be enough to hide Willow without having to hide her horse, as well.

      John had suggested that Simon and Willow could ride double out to the ranch, but Cissy had said that Simon shouldn’t risk further injury by bouncing around in the saddle with another person.

      Cissy left briefly, returning with her horse in tow and a carpetbag. She’d sent her father off to fetch the judge, and then had shooed Simon out the door. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” she’d told him breezily.

      He’d paced up to the Red Eye and back again to the jail. The door was shut and the shade pulled over the window. So he walked over to Trumbull’s store for some cinnamon sticks for Chester that he’d forgotten to buy in Cheyenne—all the time wondering if that blow to the head had affected him more than he’d thought it had. Surely he was dreaming all this.

      But when he’d gotten back to the sheriff’s office once again, the door had been open, and waiting inside were Cissy, Judge Abercrombie, John and a transformed Willow.

      With some of that mysterious feminine magic, Cissy had cleaned her up, swept her cloud of hair into some kind of chignon that finally made her look her nineteen years and more, and dressed her in one of Cissy’s own pink gowns. The coloring was not right with the reddish hair and tanned face, and the dress hung loose on Willow’s slender frame, but at least he hadn’t had to get married to someone wearing trousers.

      As if reading his thoughts, Willow spoke for the first time since they’d left town. “What happened to my clothes?”

      “Cissy packed them in here,” he answered, indicating the carpetbag that was tied to the pommel of his saddle.

      “What made her do all this for me?”

      Simon shrugged. “She’s a good person. She cares about people.”

      “The way it looks to me, she cares about you, Mr. Grant.”

      Simon rode along in thought for a couple minutes, then finally said only,