The Bounty Hunter's Bride. Victoria Bylin

worn gun belt should have answered his question.

      After staring for a bit, Beau stated the obvious. “I’m not inclined to settle down, Mr. Scott.”

      “Why not?”

      “It’s none of your business.”

      “You can’t blame me for asking,” the man said. “I knew Patrick well. We served together as elders at the church. He’d want his girls to be raised in Castle Rock.”

      “That’s not possible.”

      Beau thought of Daniela Baxter but dismissed the idea of allowing her to adopt his nieces. Someday she’d marry and have babies of her own. Besides, what did she know about running a dairy farm? Since he’d been doing Patrick’s work, Beau had come to respect farmers in a new way. The cows had no mercy when it came to being milked on time. Exhausted or not, Beau pulled himself out of bed at dawn, headed to the meadow to fetch the first cow, then milked them one at a time until he’d finished all ten. At night, the cows came to the gate bellowing precisely at five o’clock.

      The milking started the day and ended it. In between, the driver from the local cheese factory picked up the milk cans and replaced them with empty ones. Beau had buckets to scrub and horse stalls to muck out. He also had a new field of alfalfa to plant. Patrick’s first field, the one he’d planted seven years ago, would die out in a few years and no longer meet the needs of his growing herd. The cows had all given birth in March. Patrick had kept four heifer calves and sold the rest. The herd needed more forage, so he’d made plans for a second alfalfa crop. Beau had seen the half-plowed field and the seed bags in the barn. After just two days of work, he’d taken his hat off to his brother’s dedication.

      Hardworking or not, Patrick had died, leaving the work unfinished. In a blink the Almighty had cut him down. Beau turned back to the window. Instead of four blond heads, he saw four bowls of melting ice cream.

      “What the—”

      He scanned the boardwalk and saw Miss Baxter shepherding the girls to the wagon. When she glanced at the window, Beau saw the fear of a fugitive and bolted for the door.

      “We’re not done!” Scott called.

      “Write to Miss Lange,” Beau shouted from the stairwell.

      “Do it today!”

      He raced through the door to the street where the wagon sat empty. He looked to the left but saw nothing. He snapped his eyes to the right and saw a pink skirt whipping around a corner.

      He broke into a run, but the females had a two-block lead. When he reached the alley where they’d turned, he saw nothing but empty stairs, trash and piles of wood. Muttering an oath, he strode between the buildings, swiveling his head to look down each street and alley for another flash of pink.

      He spotted them on Cantril Street. Miss Baxter and his nieces had slowed to a fast walk, a pace that would look hurried to bystanders but not panicked. Beau didn’t know what to make of their flight. He didn’t know much about little girls, but he’d tried to be pleasant. He hadn’t raised his voice, and he’d cussed only once when a cow had stepped on his foot.

      With Miss Baxter and the girls in plain sight, he followed at a distance, staying close to the buildings and ducking into doorways whenever the woman looked over her shoulder. He had to admire her instincts. She took numerous turns, blended with strangers and kept the girls at her side. Beau had no idea where she was headed. They’d passed the Garnet Hotel, the sheriff’s office and the courthouse. He figured the girls had friends, but the houses in Castle Rock lay mostly to the east. Tired of the chase, he lengthened his stride. With his coat flapping and his boots thudding, he didn’t have to maneuver around folks on the boardwalk. They jumped out of his way.

      At the corner of Lewis and Sixth Streets, Miss Baxter glanced over her shoulder. Instead of taking cover, Beau stayed in plain sight. “Wait up!”

      Her eyes rounded with fear. Breathless, she lifted Esther and ran with Emma and Ellie flanking her sides.

      Beau broke into a run but stopped. He couldn’t stand the thought of Miss Baxter catching a heel in the boardwalk. If she fell, she’d twist an ankle or worse. He’d also figured out her destination. The fool woman could have saved herself a lot worry if she’d stayed and finished her ice cream. Beau, too, had business with Josh and Adelaide Blue. With his hat low, he followed the females to the parsonage.

      

      “Keep going!” Dani said between breaths. “We’re almost there.”

      She didn’t dare look over her shoulder. She’d spotted Beau Morgan near the bank but hoped they’d lost him by zigzagging through the grid of streets. The church rose in the distance, a wood frame building painted white with a bell and a tin steeple. The sun struck the metal, reminding her of the swords in the Bible. The Lord had told his people to turn some into ploughshares. Others were used for battle. As the steeple glinted in the sun, she thought of the sword of truth, a two-edged blade sharp enough to separate flesh from bone, truth from lies. Mr. Morgan hadn’t been overtly dishonest, but neither had he been forthcoming. With three girls in her care, Dani couldn’t take chances. If Pastor Blue and his wife would watch the girls, she’d go in search of the town judge. She’d show him the letters and—

      “Oh, no,” she mumbled.

      “What is it?” Emma asked.

      “Your pa’s letters are in my trunk.”

      The girl whimpered. “That’s the proof he wanted you to adopt us.”

      “That’s right.”

      “Can we get them?” Emma asked.

      “Not easily.” Dani’s plan to take the wagon had changed the instant she’d locked eyes with Beau Morgan through the window. She’d told him about Patrick’s letter with good intentions, but now she wished she’d been more reserved. If he wanted to play dirty, he could destroy the letters. A custody battle would turn into a war of words.

      Please, Lord. I need your help.

      With mud sticking to her shoes, Dani focused on the house across from the church. Red curtains hung in the windows and flowerpots lined the railing on the wide porch. Behind the slats, she saw a hodgepodge of chairs. A large wooden spool, probably used for telegraph wire, served as a table, and a lantern sat on a barrel. The house called out a welcome.

      Come and sit. Share your burdens.

      Patrick had considered Reverend Blue a good friend and he’d spoken well of the man’s wife. They’ll help you get settled, Dani. Pastor Josh tells stories that make the Bible come alive, and no one’s kinder than Adie. Looking at the chairs, Dani imagined pouring out her heart to a serene man of the cloth and his gentle wife.

      “There she is!” Ellie said.

      A red-haired woman in a green print dress and white apron stood in the doorway. At the sight of Dani and the girls, her eyes sparked with recognition, then clouded as she spied the man following in their steps. Leaving the door ajar, Adelaide Blue slipped out of sight. Clinging to Esther, Dani ran faster, praying she wouldn’t stumble. Emma stayed at her side. Unburdened, Ellie outdistanced them. They had a hundred feet to go, then seventy, fifty…Dani could see the lilacs by the front door, the checks on the gingham curtains.

      When they reached the yard, Adie waved them inside. The girls sped past her and collapsed on the floor. Dani spun around and saw the minister’s wife facing the yard with a shotgun pressed against her shoulder. Dani went to the window, peeked through the curtains and saw Beau Morgan striding down the dirt trail parting the grass. With his hat pulled low and his duster flapping, he stirred the blades like gusting wind.

      “Hold up, stranger!” Adie called.

      He stopped and raised his hands over his head. Dani pressed her temple against the wall so she could see the front of the doorway. The shotgun barrel pointed steady and true.

      Adie’s finger rested on the trigger. “Who are