The Bounty Hunter's Bride. Victoria Bylin

through the hole. Five years ago, his wife would have darned it. She’d have knit him new ones. Dani didn’t want to ache for him, but she did.

      Adie touched her arm. “It’s a hard story to hear.”

      “And hard to tell,” said the Reverend.

      “Go on,” Dani urged. “I need to know.”

      Reverend Blue raised his chin in defiance of what he had to relive. “I know what happened because Beau told me. He’s gone over that moment a thousand times. Maybe more.”

      Dani thought of Emma standing at the window, recalling Patrick’s riderless horse and the smell of burned flesh. She heard Beau Morgan telling the child not to talk. He’d been trying to protect her from a heartache that rivaled his own. Dani had judged him as hard, yet he’d been acting with compassion.

      Reverend Blue took a deep breath. “Beau was sitting at his desk with his foot on a stool when he saw Lucy pass by the window with a picnic basket. She’d been to the doctor that morning and had come to surprise him.”

      Her heart squeezed. A healthy young woman went to the doctor for just one reason. The picnic basket…a surprise for her husband. Tears welled in Dani’s eyes.

      Reverend Blue cleared his throat. “In spite of his bad toe, Beau got up to help her. When he opened the door, Johnson fired. Lucy died in Beau’s arms.”

      In Wisconsin, Dani could look at a tulip and see God in the petals. She could catch a snowflake and see the divine beauty. Staring at the rippling grass, she saw nothing but Lucy Morgan’s blood and Patrick’s riderless horse. “Where was God?” she said in a whisper.

      “Same place He is right now,” said the Reverend.

      “I don’t feel Him.”

      “I think you do, Miss Baxter.” She felt the Reverend’s gaze on the side of her face. “I see tears in your eyes. Our Lord’s weeping, too. For Beau. For you. For those three little girls. Bad things happen. It’s a fact. But the Lord will see you through.”

      “I know that’s true,” Dani murmured. “It has to be true.”

      Yet she couldn’t shake the niggling fear that she’d left God in Wisconsin. She looked to the Reverend for comfort but didn’t find it. His eyes were on his wife, blazing with a protectiveness that tore Dani’s heart in two. With Patrick’s death, she could only dream of a man looking at her that way.

      The Reverend’s throat twitched with emotion.

      Adie’s eyes misted.

      Dani’s throat hurt. It tightened even more when the girls spilled out of the stable door. Emma had a blanket draped over her arm. Ellie had the box of kittens and Esther’s little legs pumped as she tried to keep up with her sisters. Dani raised her chin. God had denied her a husband, but she could still be a mother.

      The Reverend broke into her thoughts. “I spoke at Lucy’s funeral.” He bit off the last word, as if he could barely say it. “I’m a man of God, Miss Baxter. I believe in Heaven and Hell and living well in between, but I could barely say a word that day.”

      Adie interrupted. “I’ll tell the rest. I’m the one who cooked Beau his last meal.”

      “It was roast beef,” the Reverend said.

      “And raspberry pie. I’d given Lucy the recipe.”

      Dani bit her lip to fight the dread.

      Adie laced her fingers together. “I’ll never forget that last night on the porch. Lucy had been gone a month when Beau said he was leaving town. As cold as death, he said, ‘I’m going to hunt down Clay Johnson and kill him.’”

      “I believed him,” said the Reverend.

      “I still do,” Adie replied.

      Dani shivered. “That’s why he’s been so protective, isn’t it? Clay Johnson…is he in the area?”

      “Beau thinks so,” Adie said.

      Fear, danger and dirt. Beau Morgan had brought all three into the lives of three little girls. Dani’s heart broke for his loss, but she feared for Patrick’s daughters. She turned to Adie. “I have a favor to ask.”

      “Anything.”

      “Could the girls and I stay with you a few days?”

      Adie tilted her head. “Are you still afraid of Beau?”

      “No,” Dani replied. “But I am afraid of Clay Johnson. What if he comes to the farm?”

      Adie looked at Josh. “Dani has a point.”

      “I’ll speak to Beau,” said Reverend Blue. “He’ll know best.”

      Dani thought of the ride through town. Surely Beau would want to keep them safe. “Thank you.”

      Adie touched her shoulder. “You must be exhausted. Would you like to rest a bit?”

      Dani shook her head. “If I close my eyes, I’ll see Patrick.”

      “A walk might be nice,” Adie said kindly.

      “I think I will. Is the church open?”

      “Always,” said the Reverend.

      As she pushed to her feet, Dani looked at the tin steeple. The sun had dropped in the sky, turning it from silver to gray. The edges no longer seemed so sharp. Maybe she’d go inside. Maybe she wouldn’t. Mostly she wanted to cry and she wanted to do it alone. She looked across the yard and saw the girls. They seemed content, but in the distance she saw the stirring of dust from a wagon and recognized Beau Morgan holding the reins. He had her future in his hands, as well. She had to convince him she could handle the girls and the farm. That would be hard to do if they stayed with the Blues, but neither did she like the idea of an outlaw stalking them.

      Patrick? Are you watching? What should I do?

      Silence.

      With her heart aching, Dani headed for the cemetery.

      

      Beau steered the wagon into the yard and stopped. The chairs on the porch sent him back in time to Denver, where Josh and Adie had lived in a Mansion named Swan’s Nest. Beau and another deputy had taken to visiting on Wednesday nights. During the third visit, Josh had opened his Bible and read scriptures from Proverbs, the funny ones about fools and carping women. Their little group had turned into the Wednesday Ruckus, a men’s Bible study that didn’t mince words. That’s how Beau got roped into church on Sunday…How he’d met Lucy.

      As he climbed down from the seat, he saw Josh come out of the parsonage. The man looked harder than ever. Rail thin and tall, he resembled a chimney pipe. Beau wasn’t in the mood for Josh’s kind of fire, but he was glad to see his old friend.

      “Hello, Reverend.”

      “Reverend?” The preacher faked a scowl. “You used to call me Josh.”

      Beau offered his hand to shake, but Josh pulled him into a bear hug and thumped him hard between the shoulder blades. Beau pounded back. In Denver he’d enjoyed having friends, men who’d told jokes when times were bright and stayed quiet when they weren’t. He missed them. He missed a lot of things. He stepped back. “It’s been a long time.”

      “Five years, friend.” Josh’s eyes burned like coal. “Where in the world have you been?”

      “I think you know.”

      “Only what you told Adie.” Josh put his hands on his hips, pulling back the flaps of his coat. “You and I need to talk.”

      “No, we don’t.” Beau’s voice dropped to a growl. He didn’t want to hear about forgiving his enemies. He wanted an eye for an eye. He wanted Clay Johnson to swing from a rope.

      Josh aimed his chin at the girls. “You have