Texas Lawman Read online

  “Bet I beat you home,” Lin taunted him, viewing him over her shoulder.

  “Not on your life, lady,” he called after her, and then bowed his head. With a look of resignation in Brace’s direction, he shrugged. “What do you do with a woman like that?” he asked helplessly.

  “Just love her,” Brace told him. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’d say you’ve had a little practice at it already.”

  “Yeah, so I have,” Nicholas said, looking up as Jamie led his horse to him. “I think things are pretty well under control here, Sheriff. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a couple of things to tend to.”

  “We’ll clean up the mess,” Jamie answered. “I think Brace needs to take his wife home and tidy her up a little.”

  “I agree with that,” Brace said, full awareness of Sarah’s state of dishabille hitting him squarely between the eyes. “She’s a mess, isn’t she?” With a grin, he looked up at Jamie and nodded his thanks. “Get Lester into a cell, and drop these other two birds off at the undertaker’s place,” he said. “I’ll be at home.”

  Picking Sarah up from the ground, he made his way to his horse and lifted her into the saddle. Then, with a quick movement, he was behind her, holding her across his lap.

  The house was empty when they arrived, and Sarah looked inside the back door. “Where’s Stephen? Are you sure he’s all right?”

  “I’ll guarantee he’s with your folks, wherever they are,” Brace answered. “Jamie was going to see to it. And now we’re going to get you clean.”

  “Why can’t I just take a bath?” Sarah asked. “It’d be a whole lot easier to just climb in the tub instead of washing up piecemeal.”

  “You’re not going to do anything of the kind,” Brace told her sternly. “You’re going to sit here on this chair and let me take care of you.”

  “I can do it,” she protested, pulling at her dress in a vain attempt to cover her nakedness. The sleeve gave up the battle and slid down her arm, and Brace viewed the bruises that had already turned a deep shade of violet.

  “I haven’t asked you one thing,” he said quietly. “I almost hate to bring it up, lest it make you remember things better forgotten.”

  “They didn’t touch me. Not that way,” she said hastily, knowing his thoughts. It had no doubt been preying on his mind since the moment Lin had brought up the subject. Now she hastened to reassure him. “They would have, if there’d been time enough, but things happened so fast that they could only toss me around a bit.”

  “They tore your dress. And I can see bruises here,” he said, one long finger tracing a mark on her breast. “I could kill them again for that.”

  “The marks will fade,” she told him. “So long as it doesn’t make you look at me any differently.”

  “Look at you differently?” he asked, and then he knelt before her, gathering her to him. “How could I, Sarah? You’re the same woman you were before all this happened. Even if they’d violated you, hurt you beyond description, I’d feel the same way. What you are inside is what matters. Others might be able to soil your body, but they can’t touch the woman you are.”

  She bent to kiss him, her tears blurring his face before her. “I love you so much, Brace. I was so afraid they’d hurt Stephen, but I knew you’d be there for both of us. I knew you wouldn’t fail me.”

  “I had help,” he told her. “As soon as you’re clean and in bed, I’ll go scout up our boy.”

  “Jamie will no doubt look after him for a bit,” Sarah said.

  “Well, when your folks show up, he’ll likely be with them,” Brace said. “We’d better get you washed and into clean clothes. By then they should all be home.”

  A pan of warm water on the table held a soft cloth, and her soap lay on a dish beside it. In moments he’d squeezed the excess water from the cloth and then wiped her skin with the warmth. With deft movements he caught up the bar of soap in his hands and formed suds against her skin, then, after depositing the soap in the dish, he rubbed her arms between his palms, cleaned the soil from between her fingers and finally rinsed her hands in the warm pan of water.

  He took up the bar of soap again and washed her breasts, exposing her quickly to his sight, his fingers firm as he pushed aside her bodice and carefully, tenderly, ran his hand over the lush lines that bore bruises and marks where rough hands had clutched at her flesh.

  His mouth was tight as he finished, and with the damp cloth he wiped away the residue of soap, lifted a towel from the table and dried her skin. She made no protest, simply watched his hands as he touched her, settling her gaze on his face as he looked up into her eyes. Pain drew deep lines in his forehead, his mouth was taut with anger and his eyes held a suspicious sheen of moisture.

  She bent forward and kissed him, her lips touching where they would, first on his, then moving to his cheek and temple, her words a caress in themselves as she assured him of her love, thanked him unstintingly for his care of her, and finally leaned forward until his face was buried against the slopes of her breasts.

  He sighed, turning his head to kiss the silken surfaces, and his hands rose to cup and lift the offering she presented. “I can’t bear that someone hurt you,” he murmured.

  “I knew that,” she said. “I thought of all the times you’d touched me and how good you’ve been to me, and how much I love you, and I determined that those men could not do anything that would spoil the pleasure we find together, Brace.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered. He rose and held out a hand to her. “Come on. We’re going to get your clothes changed and get rid of that dress. I never want to see it again. I’ll buy you six new ones to replace it.”

  She grinned, even though the skin pulled across her cheek and burned. “Six new dresses? I think this may turn out to be a good deal for me.”

  They left the kitchen and went up the stairs. In mere minutes Brace stripped her clothing off and helped her don a clean nightgown, then wrapped her robe around her and tied the sash.

  “I can put another dress on,” she protested, but he would not be swayed.

  “I want you to rest in the parlor,” he told her. “I’ll find us something to eat later on, and you can spend some time with Stephen when he gets home. He’ll be anxious about you.” He looked her over with care. “Wherever your folks are, I’m just as glad they’re not here right now. We needed some time alone.”

  “I’ll bet they went into town. They won’t have wanted to miss anything, and when Jamie brought the prisoner back, my father was probably right out in front of the jail. And I’ll bet my mother took one look at Stephen and about smothered him with hugs.”

  Brace nodded at her words, and then bent closer to peer at the discoloring on her face. “Nothing shows except these marks on your cheek,” he told her. “You’ll have bruises there for a while, and there’s no help for it. Stephen won’t see the rest.”

  Together they went down the stairs again and Sarah was ensconced in the parlor, three books from a nearby table in her lap. Brace pulled the footstool close and lifted her feet to it, then covered her with a knitted throw from the back of the sofa.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked, and she smiled, shaking her head. “I’ll be out in the kitchen for a while,” he told her. “I thought I’d make you a cup of tea.”

  “That sounds good,” she agreed. But on his return, he was not surprised to find her asleep, her body curved against the arm of the sofa, her feet drawn up beneath the knitted throw.

  He stood in the doorway and looked at her. His heart was beating at its usual rate, his fears for her satisfied by her ability to sleep. But there was within his soul a deep sense of gratitude that would ever be a part of him. His Sarah was all right. Though her body had been bruised, her soul was intact. The flame that burned brightly within her had not been extinguished. And for that, he bowed his head and offered thanks.

  The Pinkerton men, hired by the banks, had indeed made their way to Benning, Texas, armed with warrants for the a
rrests of the three Clark brothers. That two of them were beyond the threat of jail seemed not to matter to the distinguished-looking men, for Lester was the man they sought. His brothers were merely accessories after the fact.

  The embezzlement of funds was enough to put him behind bars for a good long stretch, the men said, and the additional charge of kidnapping Sarah and Stephen assured his being held for more years than he had left to live, one of them added.

  Then there was the fact of Sierra’s death to be considered. Proof was not definite as yet, but the lawmen back in Big Rapids, Missouri, were pretty set on charging Lester with murder in the death of his wife. Sarah’s folks had pressed the matter, once it became known to them that the evidence seemed to point to Lester as the culprit.

  Now they listened as the lawmen told them the particulars of Lester’s arrest. Joshua agreed to testify when the man was brought to trial, Colleen crying silently as her daughter’s death was discussed.

  Three days later, Jamie took Lester to the train, his leg patched up, his complaints rising above the rattle of the wagon he rode in. At the sound of Lester’s belligerent carrying-on, Jamie only cast one long look of impatience at the prisoner and then ignored him for the rest of the short ride. He was cheered immensely by the thought of turning the man over to the Pinkerton agents in a few moments.

  “Just shut your trap. You got nothing to complain of yet,” Jamie said to his prisoner as he drew the team up to the edge of the station platform, watching as the train puffed to a halt beside them. “You’re gonna be in real hot water once they get hold of you in Big Rapids.”

  “At least the boy ain’t gonna profit from this,” Lester told Jamie. “I’ll bet Sarah thought she was gonna get a share if Stephen could claim my pa’s property.”

  “I don’t think Sarah cares one whit about you or your family,” Jamie told him. “She’s happy right where she is.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  And where she was was very nearly heaven on earth, Sarah decided when the dust had cleared and Lester was in the hands of the authorities, on his way to Big Rapids where a judge was waiting for him. She rested for three days, pampered and cosseted beyond belief by her family. Things had progressed as Brace predicted, and tonight she felt almost like herself.

  The house was quiet, Stephen asleep, the stars shining and the night breeze whispering through the curtains.

  Brace held her close, his satisfaction apparent as he kissed and caressed her, his hands running with possessive measure over her silken flesh. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked quietly, as if the fear of damaging her bruised flesh was foremost in his mind.

  “No,” she whispered. “You were so…good to me.” Her pause was long, as if her mind could not conjure up the words she needed to tell him of her feelings. “You always give me so much, Brace. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you hold me and touch me and fill me to the brim with your loving.” She lifted herself from beside him and bent over to kiss him, her lips opening over his, exploring the limits of his mouth, tangling with his tongue as he drew her ever deeper into the kiss that lured him into her lair.

  She was even more precious to him than he’d realized. For when the thought of harm coming to her had penetrated his conscious mind, he’d been driven to panic. For the first time in his life his body had operated automatically, his thoughts unable to achieve a sense of coherency.

  “I was so afraid for you,” he murmured. “I think I still can’t believe that things are settled, for the most part.” He watched her as she lifted her head and allowed her fingers to trace the lines of his face. She palmed his jaws, holding him there for her own benefit as she bent again to kiss the ridges of his brows, the slope of his nose, the skin on his throat where his evening whiskers had begun to form.

  “I should have shaved tonight,” he said, aware that her soft lips would be reddened by the stub of stiff hair against the tender skin.

  “I love you just the way you are,” she told him. “With a beard, without one, a neat haircut or your curls touching your collar.”

  “What curls?” he asked aloud, sitting upright and dislodging her from the place she’d chosen to occupy.

  “These,” she said, rolling to better have her hands on him, her fingertips touching the soft waves that would not be vanquished by water. They clung to her as if drawn by her soft skin, and she managed to get one halfway around her finger. “I love the little curly places back here.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Sarah,” he spouted. “Why didn’t you tell me before that my hair was doing that? It’s not proper for a lawman to have curls.”

  “Says who?” she demanded. “Don’t you dare argue with me, Brace Caulfield. If you wake up my father, you might find yourself in trouble. I’m trying to be quiet and not make any noise to disturb my folks, and you’re raising a fuss over a few curls. Just remember one thing, mister. You’re my lawman, and I love you even more with a few curls on your neck. It makes you look just a little bit vulnerable, and I like that.”

  “Well,” he groused, “if there’s anything I’m not supposed to be it’s vulnerable. I’m supposed to be tough and hell-bent on catching all the bad guys. Curls over my collar certainly won’t do my image any good.”

  “I won’t say another word,” she vowed. “I’ll cut off your curls if you like and not even cry at the loss. Just let me enjoy them for tonight.”

  “Cry? You crying? I can’t imagine you’d shed any tears over my haircuts.”

  “Just love me, Brace?” she asked softly. “Every bit of me, even my miserable long hair that takes such a long time to wash and dry, and causes me to fuss with it every day, in order for me to look halfway neat and tidy?”

  He laughed. “I don’t care if you ever look neat and tidy, sweetheart. I like you mussed and rumpled, to tell the truth. And I do love you, every bit of you, especially the curls and waves that cover your head and fall around your shoulders when you let it down at night.”

  “Do you, now?” she asked. “Then how can you fault my admiration of these few little wisps of hair that appeal to me so much when I stop behind your chair at the supper table, or that invite me to kiss your neck, so I can feel them tickle my mouth?”

  “Really? My hair tickles you when you kiss my neck?”

  She thought he looked rather pleased at the idea, a grin curving his mouth, his teeth showing white and even as his lips drew back, and his eyes glittering in the candlelight shed by the single taper he’d left by the bedside.

  “There’s something about you that appeals mightily to me,” she told him. “Maybe it’s the way you treat me, or the way you’ve taken to Stephen, or your kindness and generosity here in our bed. Although that sort of goes along with the first item on my list, doesn’t it?”

  “You’d better back up, sweet. You lost me somewhere between my ability to please you and my degree of kindness. And let me tell you, no one’s ever accused me of that virtue before.”

  “Well, I have, several times,” she said, pouting just a bit as his muscles hardened under her touch. His arms, husky and strong, held her in an embrace she could not have broken had she tried, yet she acknowledged the fact that she was his prisoner by her own choice. His chest and belly were firm, rigid beneath her as she sprawled across him. Unless she was sorely mistaken, there was another thought to be considered.

  For a man who had so recently spent himself in the depths of her woman’s parts, he was recovering rapidly. His virtues apparently did not include that of patience, she decided as he turned her in the bed, lying atop her, making no bones about his interest in her curves and the softness of breasts and the tender flesh of her hips and bottom.

  “I thought we were going to sleep,” she said, stifling a yawn for his benefit.

  “Not for a while,” he told her, his words sounding gruff, but softened by the glow his eyes shed upon her. He dipped his head and nuzzled between her breasts. “You’ll learn not to come to bed without being properly dressed,
” he muttered. “This is what you get for tempting me.”

  “Really?” Her voice sang with the delight he brought to her, and he laughed softly, aware of her willingness to accommodate him, her desire for him causing her to soften beneath him. Her arms rose to encircle his neck and she lifted her face to his, drawing him down to press damp kisses against his beard stubble, then on the softer skin of his cheek and ear, until he held her firmly beneath him and met her lips in a series of caresses that took her breath.

  “I love you, you little tease,” he muttered. “You give me such happiness, sweetheart. I promise to take better care of you from now on. You’ll grow tired of me looking after you, I fear.”

  “You’ve done a good job so far,” she told him. “And I don’t mind you giving me attention, especially not the kind I’m getting tonight.”

  With a deep sigh of anticipation she opened to him, her body welcoming him in the most basic way known to womankind. He was hers, the man she had chosen to live with, to love for all time, and if loving him made him happy, if giving him all she had to offer brought him pleasure, she was more than willing to spend her affection in his direction. It was, she decided, as he sought and found the haven of warmth she extended, a no-lose situation. She was the recipient of his strength and the power of his loving. For her, there could be no better reward than to know that Brace Caulfield cherished the woman he had taken for his own.

  Jamie’s words proved prophetic before many days had passed. A wire arrived and the stationmaster carried it to Brace’s office, his excitement visible. “Wait till you see what happened,” he said loudly.

  “What?” Brace asked. “Where and when?”

  “Read what this here says,” the man told him, holding out a page from the tablet he used to copy messages.