Lawfully Justifiedl (Bounty Hunter Lawkeeper Romance) Page 2

  “Of course I don’t mind. You’re welcome to make dinner any day you’d like,” Emma said, smiling at her younger sister. “You are an amazing cook.”

  “Well, I’m not as good as you,” Carrie said, blushing and dropping her head, “but you had Ma around a little longer to learn from.”

  Emma wrapped her arm around the girl, a younger version of herself with long blond hair and green eyes. “I’m sorry you didn’t have Ma as long as I did, but you are just as good a cook as I am. Maybe even better.”

  “Emma!” Jennie’s excited voice echoed through the small house, and a moment later, the girl appeared, her dark hair flying behind her. Jennie was the spitting image of their mother with her brown hair and blue eyes. While Emma couldn’t fault her for it, seeing Jennie always pulled at Emma’s heartstrings and made her miss their mother more.

  “Hi Jennie Bean,” Emma said, squatting down to hug the girl.

  “I’m not a bean,” Jennie said laughing. Though this was a nightly game with them, Jennie never seemed to tire of it.

  “You’re not?” Emma feigned surprise.

  “No, I’m a girl.” Jennie put her little hands on her hips and turned her nose up in the air.

  “Well, be a good girl and go call your brothers in for supper.”

  Jennie nodded and spun on her heel, hollering as she went. “Benjamin, Samuel, supper’s ready.”

  “Not quite what I had in mind,” Emma said with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

  “Is Pa not coming for dinner?” Carrie asked as she headed to the kitchen.

  “No, there was an altercation at the saloon tonight and a man was shot. Pa is staying to watch him and be there in case he passes in the night.”

  Carrie’s hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes grew large and round. “Oh, how awful.”

  Emma nodded. “It is, and I keep wondering if he has family out there somewhere wondering where he is.”

  “Did it remind you of Joseph?” Carrie asked as she pulled dishes from the cupboard.

  A sad smile played across Emma’s lips. “It did, but then a lot of things remind me of Joseph.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever marry again?” Carrie asked in a soft voice as she dished up the stew.

  “Maybe one day,” Emma said, taking the full bowls to the table, “if God sends me the right man.”

  Chapter Two

  William smiled at Catherine as they walked through the tall grass. The sun was especially bright today, and he couldn’t remember a time she looked more beautiful. Golden threads sparkled in her hair as if the sun had kissed her strands itself. Her hazel eyes twinkled as she smiled at him.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” he said as he took her hand, her perfect, porcelain, dainty hand.

  “I’m always here watching you,” Catherine said, tilting her head to the left as she gazed at him, “but you have to move on, William.”

  “Move on?” he asked, his brows knitting together. A cold feeling erupted in his stomach.

  “It’s not your time yet,” she said, placing her other hand on his cheek, “but don’t spend it alone. Find love again.”

  William adamantly shook his head. “No, Catherine, you are my love. There won’t be another. Bounty hunting has become my life now.”

  “That is no life,” Catherine said with a small smile. “You need to live, and you need to open your eyes.”

  As the words left her mouth, the sun grew brighter and the green grass faded away. Catherine slipped backwards out of his touch. William reached out for her, but she was always just out of his reach, until she too disappeared. He awoke with a gasp and a stinging pain descended.

  The throbbing in his neck was so pronounced, he felt as if he could see the beat of it in his head, and there was a stiffness where his neck met his shoulder, keeping him from being able to move his head.

  The wood planks he could see were unfamiliar to him, and his hand felt instinctively for his gun but came up empty.

  “Easy now,” a female voice said, and a pretty face entered his view. Blond locks circled her heart-shaped face and complemented her green eyes. “You were shot, and my father isn’t sure he got all the shards out. You need to stay still and let your wound heal. There may still be fragments close to your neck.”

  Shot? The previous night flashed into William’s mind and he jerked again, trying to sit up.

  “No, you have to stay still,” the woman insisted, pushing firmly on his chest to keep him down.

  He stopped struggling. The pain was too great to continue anyway. Instead he swallowed to wet his throat and asked, “Did they get Monroe?” His voice came out hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

  “The cattle thief?” the woman asked.

  With deliberate effort, William nodded. Though painful, he found he could move his head if he did it slowly.

  “Yes, they got him. Nellie too. It turns out she is his cousin.”

  With a small sigh, William relaxed against the pillow. At least his mark hadn’t escaped though he probably wouldn’t get the full bounty for him since local law enforcement had been forced to step in.

  “I’m Mrs. Stewart,” the woman continued, “and my father is Doc Moore. We’re going to be taking care of you while you heal. Do you have any family we should notify?”

  William moved his head the little he could. The only family he had was the rapidly fading memory of the dream of Catherine.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Mrs. Stewart said, her face clouding with sympathy. “Well, rest for now. I’ll be with you all day, so just ring this if you need me.” She held up a little silver bell for him to see and then placed it near his right hand, folding his hand around the bell.

  William started at the feel of her touch on his bare hand. How long had it been since a woman’s gentle touch had affected him? Too quickly the warmth of her hand left his, and he was left alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t generally the worrying type, but what if this injury halted his career? What would he do then?

  There was nothing for him back in Barefoot Glen anymore. It was one reason he had accepted the Bounty Hunter proposition. He had loved serving as a deputy, but after Catherine had been killed by a stray bullet during his watch, life had lost its meaning. At least the money from collecting bounties filled part of the void in his heart, but if this injury kept him from performing his duties, he didn’t know what he would do.

  * * *

  Emma stole another glance at the man lying on the cot. He was handsome with his dark hair and chiseled features, so she had trouble believing he had no family. What had made him choose such a solitary life as being a bounty hunter?

  She grabbed the towels from the washbasin and headed for the back door, grabbing the washboard and a bar of soap on the way. A water pump and a bucket sat just outside for her to wash the clinic’s laundry and fill the wash basin when needed.

  Emma pulled up the nearby stool and began priming the pump until the water flowed out and filled the bucket. She stuck the washboard in the bucket and began scrubbing the still pink towels.

  “Well, hello, Emma. I hear you have a bounty hunter in your care.”

  Emma sighed at Carl’s voice. They had grown up together and courted for a time until Joseph had come into her life. Carl had not so graciously stepped aside when it became clear her affections lay with the other man, but since Joseph’s death, he had begun coming around again in hopes of a second chance with Emma. The problem was she had no interest in him.

  “Yes, Carl, we do. He was shot last night, and he needs his rest, so I hope you weren’t thinking of bothering him.”

  “Bothering? I’m never a bother, Emma, you should know that.” He leaned against the back post just a few feet from her.

  Right, never a bother. “What can I do for you, Carl?” Emma asked, using the soap to take her aggravation for Carl out on the towels.

  “I wanted to see if you would like to come riding with me tomorrow?”

  “Oh, I don
’t think I can, Carl. I’ve got this patient, and I promised Pa I’d help him out.”

  “It would just be for a few hours, Emma. Surely Doc Moore can handle the clinic for a few hours.”

  “He probably could,” her father’s voice interrupted the conversation and Emma glanced gratefully at him, “but I’ve been called to Opdyke West tomorrow for a few days, so Emma will have to take care of our guest on her own. I’m afraid riding will have to wait.”

  “Understood, sir.” Carl had the decency to answer and nod politely before walking away.

  “Thank you, Pa,” Emma said as she pulled the towel out of the bucket. It wasn’t as white as it had once been, but she felt sure it was as clean as it was going to get. She stood and placed it over the railing to begin drying before grabbing another towel.

  “You’re welcome,” her father said, “but I was stating the truth. I’m going to check on our guest and make sure he can be moved. It would make me feel better for you to watch him at the homestead than to stay at the clinic overnight. I know Samuel is old enough, but I always feel better with you at home to watch out for the little ones.”

  “Do you think he can be moved?” Emma asked, concern coloring her voice. “He could barely speak to me earlier.”

  “He’s stiff and sore, but I think if we get some men to help us load him in a wagon and unload him at the house that he’ll be fine. However, I’m going to perform an examination to be sure.”

  Emma nodded as her father went back in the clinic. The stranger was going to be in their home for the foreseeable future. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but it did make sense if her father were going to be gone. This way she could monitor the stranger and help out her siblings at home.

  She finished washing the other towels and then brought them and the washboard inside. In one of the back rooms, a line of string had been strung across the room to serve as a clothesline. Emma draped the towels over the line before continuing to the main room.

  “Ah, Emma, just in time,” her father said. “I’ve examined Mr. Cook here, and while he still has a long road of healing, I do believe he is able to travel. I’m going to find a few able-bodied men and a wagon, and I shall return.”

  “I hear you’re to be my private nurse,” Mr. Cook said in a hoarse whisper after her father left.

  Emma felt a heat sprout up her neck. “I will be your primary caretaker, but I assure you there will be nothing private about it. My father is bringing you to our homestead, and I have four younger brothers and sisters ranging in age from six to twenty.”

  The man blanched slightly before asking, “I don’t suppose I have much choice, do I?”

  With a smile, Emma shook her head. “I’m afraid not. My father is quite stubborn once he’s made up his mind, and since he has been called to another town for a few days, he feels this is the most prudent course of action. Unfortunately, some of the smaller towns around here don’t have a doctor in town and have to send for Pa. You’re lucky you didn’t get shot in one of those towns.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said with a slight smile, “but won’t your husband mind you being away from him for so long?”

  “My husband is deceased,” Emma said softly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Thank you. Well, you appear to be feeling a little better after your rest,” Emma added, changing the conversation’s direction.

  “I’m a fast healer,” Mr. Cook said, “though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling any pain. My neck still feels as if it’s on fire and my throat is parched.”

  “I could get you some water if you’d like,” Emma offered.

  “I’d like that,” Mr. Cook said, and Emma scurried to the back room to grab a metal cup and fill it with water from the pump.

  When she returned, her brow furrowed as she questioned how best to give him the drink. Her father had said he shouldn’t move much, but she would need to sit him up a little or the water might choke him.

  She set the cup down on the nearby table and perched on the edge of the cot. “This is probably going to hurt a bit, but I’m going to need to lift your head, so you can drink.”

  “I can handle the pain,” he said, but she saw a flicker of fear in his green eyes.

  As gingerly as she could, Emma slid her arm under his neck and pulled upwards. She saw him flinch and a low moan escaped his lips, but she was able to get him up enough to drink. He downed half of the liquid in the cup before signaling he was through.

  After placing the cup back on the table, Emma lowered him back to the cot and removed her arm, but not before a tingling sensation flooded her arm. The sensation wasn’t new to her, of course, but why was she feeling it for this stranger?

  Emma glanced at Mr. Cook, but his eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in a labored pattern as if that had been more painful than he was letting on. If a mere drink caused this much pain, how was she going to get him to eat? He’d probably have to live on broth and soup for a few days until the pain became more manageable.

  As she stood, the door of the clinic opened, and her father entered with Deputy Jennings and Mr. Brown, the owner of the mercantile.

  “Good news, Mr. Cook,” her father said, “Mr. Brown here has a long wooden board we can use as a stretcher for the trip. If we tie your head and feet to the board, it should limit the movement and save you a great deal of pain.”

  “Pa, just lifting him to give him a drink a moment ago caused him a great deal of pain. Are you sure moving him is wise?” Emma whispered in her father’s ear. She didn’t want to question his decision in front of the other men.

  He patted her hand. “Don’t worry, my dear. It will be fine.”

  Emma watched helplessly as the wooden plank was brought in. It was balanced across a stool and held in place by her father as Deputy Jennings hooked his arm under Mr. Cook’s and Mr. Brown took his feet.

  On the count of three, they hoisted Mr. Cook onto the plank, eliciting another small groan from the man. Then her father began wrapping bandages around Mr. Cook’s head and the top of the board and then around his feet and the bottom of the board.

  When the wrapping was finished, the two men lifted the stretcher and Emma and her father followed them out of the clinic. Her father took a moment to lock the door before asking, “Emma, why don’t you and I ride in the back of the wagon with Mr. Cook to help keep him from being jostled.”

  “Yes, Pa,” Emma said before climbing into the back of the wagon. Mr. Cook’s eyes were still closed, and wrinkled lines marred his forehead letting her know he was still in pain.

  Her father climbed up across from her and between the two of them, they managed to keep the stretcher relatively still on the short ride to their house.

  “Emma, go and make up my bed for Mr. Cook here,” her father instructed as the wagon came to a stop in front of the house. “And see if you can keep the children occupied with something until we get him comfortable.”

  Emma nodded and climbed down from the wagon, careful not to disturb Mr. Cook and cause him any more pain. As she reached the porch steps, the door swung open and Jennie ran out.

  “You’re home early. Does that mean we get to play?” Jennie danced from one foot to the other in excitement.

  “Maybe in a bit. I need to get father’s bed made for a guest who will be staying with us,” Emma said, patting her sister on the head before stepping by her.

  “Who’s our guest?” Jennie asked pulling on Emma’s skirt as she followed her into the house.

  “His name is Mr. Cook. He is a bounty hunter who was shot and needs us to look after him for a few days.”

  “He was shot?” Benjamin asked with interest, looking up from the kitchen table where he was studying.

  “Yes, but you are not going to bother him,” Emma admonished. “He is going to need his rest.”

  “Aw, shucks,” Benjamin grumbled under his breath, but he dropped his eyes back to his paper.

  Emma pushed op
en the door to her father’s room. He was rarely home except to sleep, so there was very little out of place. She quickly smoothed the sheets and plumped the pillow before turning back to the door where she ran right into Jennie, who had been watching her every move.

  “Is he handsome?” the young girl asked.

  “What?” Emma asked as she stepped around the girl again.

  “The guest. Is he handsome?” Jennie pressed again.

  “I suppose,” Emma said. She had noticed his chiseled features and his intriguing green eyes, but she had been more concerned with caring for him than noticing if he were handsome.

  “Would you marry him?” Jennie asked in a sing-song voice stopping Emma in her tracks.

  She whirled on the girl, her blond hair flying out behind her. “There will be no talk of marriage. He is a guest in our house to get better, not to get fixed up with someone.” Emma felt a little guilt over her words when Jennie’s face dropped. “I’m sorry, Jennie. Why don’t you see if Benjamin needs any help with his studying?”

  The little girl pouted her lip but did as she was asked. With a sigh, Emma resumed her task of returning to the wagon waiting outside. “Okay, Pa, your bed is ready.”

  The men moved into action. Her father climbed down from the back and Deputy Jennings and Mr. Brown hopped down from the front. They inched the stretcher out until they were able to each take an end. With her father holding the middle to keep it as still as possible, the men walked with a steady gait into the house and to her father’s room.

  Emma noticed that Mr. Cook’s eyes remained closed though she wasn’t sure if it was by choice or if he had simply passed out again. The men placed the stretcher on the side of the bed and then as before lifted Mr. Cook by the armpits and the feet to place him on the bed. As no groan accompanied this move, Emma assumed he had lost consciousness. She grabbed a nearby blanket and pulled it over him before following the men out of the room and shutting the door behind her.