The Bounty Hunter's Bride. Victoria Bylin

too,” Beau said. “Those girls are suffering.”

      “So’s Miss Baxter.”

      Beau didn’t need to be reminded of the woman’s tears. He’d been the one to deliver the bad news. He’d felt the same pain when Lucy died. “I know all about it.”

      “Yes, you do.”

      Beau appreciated Josh’s plain tone. He hated pity, but he hated Clay Johnson even more. A bitter rage burned in Beau’s soul. “Johnson’s close, Josh. I can smell him.”

      “Is he a threat?”

      “I don’t know.”

      Beau told Josh about the trinkets Johnson had left him, the taunting letters. “I don’t know what he’ll do next. He could run, or he could turn the tables and come after me.”

      Josh folded his arms again. “You know what I’m going to say.”

      “I don’t want to hear it.” Beau thought back to Lucy’s funeral. To Josh’s credit, he hadn’t said a word about forgiveness. He’d saved that speech for the day Beau rode out of Denver.

      Bitterness will eat you alive, my friend. Vengeance belongs to the Lord.

      Fine, but Beau wanted to be the man to put the noose around Johnson’s neck. As soon as he took care of his nieces, he’d get back to the business of revenge. As for the bothersome Baxter woman, she’d be better off in Wisconsin with her family.

      Josh’s expression stayed hard. “Adie tells me you scared the daylights out of Miss Baxter. That was a fool thing to do.”

      Beau grunted. “She’s as green as grass.”

      “Not from what I can see.”

      “Then you haven’t seen much.”

      “I’ve seen plenty.” Josh looked Beau up and down. “Looks like you found time for a bath.”

      Beau wished he’d worn his duster over his new clothes. The blue shirt made him feel like a dandy, and so did the brown leather vest. The gun belt still hugged his hip, but he’d slicked back his hair and his jaw had a shine. Beau scowled. “Adie shamed me into it.”

      “Adie’s wise.”

      She was also a good cook. Beau smelled supper on the stove. His mouth watered, but he refused to be hungry.

      Josh eyed him thoughtfully. “Thanks to your bad manners, Miss Baxter wants to stay here with the girls.”

      Beau toyed with the idea but rejected it. “The woman can do whatever she wants, but I want the girls on the farm.”

      “Is it safe?” Josh asked.

      “As safe as I can make it.” His nieces shared his name. Beau wanted them where he could see them. He didn’t expect Johnson to ride into town, but the outlaw had a sick mind.

      “Can I give you some advice?” Josh asked.

      “Can I stop you?”

      “No, so here it is. The girls think of Miss Baxter as their new mother. They think of you as an intruder. They trust her. No matter what you decide, things will be easier if she’s on your side.”

      “That won’t happen.”

      “Why not?”

      “She made a promise to Patrick. She wants to adopt the girls.”

      “I know.” Josh lowered his voice. “I know something else.”

      “What?”

      “I can’t share it with you.”

      Beau thought of Emma standing at the farmhouse window. He went to see Pastor Josh. He was in a hurry. Had Patrick gotten cold feet? Beau remembered the day before he’d married Lucy. He’d been crazy about her, but his knees had turned to jelly before the wedding. If Patrick had changed his mind, Miss Baxter’s promise to adopt the girls meant nothing. She’d be free to go home to Wisconsin.

      Beau hated secrets, but he trusted Josh. “You know best.”

      “I hope so.”

      No matter what troubled the minister, Beau knew he’d wield the sword of truth with discretion. Before coming to Colorado, Joshua Blue had been a high-and-mighty preacher in Boston. He’d suffered for his misplaced words and knew the power of a loose tongue.

      So did Beau. He’d spoken too quickly when he’d asked Daniela Baxter to stay at the farm. His belly had been growling and he hadn’t given the situation enough thought. The girls were already too attached to her. With each day, that tie would grow stronger and they’d all end up heartbroken. With Harriet Lange in the picture, Beau hoped the situation would be resolved in a matter of days, a few weeks at the most. He could live on pancakes until then.

      As for Daniela Baxter, she’d be better off with the Blues. Once the shock of Patrick’s death wore off, Beau felt sure she’d head home to Wisconsin.

      “Where is she?” he asked. “I need to speak with her.”

      “Look in the church.”

      His stomach lurched. No way would he go inside that building. He turned to ask Josh to fetch her, but the minister had already slipped into the house. Beau turned back to the building and scowled at it. He’d gone to church twice after Lucy’s death. With a groaning deeper than words, he’d hit his knees. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”