The Gallows' Bounty (West of Second Chances) (21 page)

He kept her hand tucked in his and led her to the loft ladder.

But as they left the loft, the peacefulness Willow had felt there faded.  She couldn’t forget she had one other thing to tell Boden.

“HAVE YOU FOUND HER?”

The question came soft and firm, backed by steel.

“I’ve talked to her once.  Seen her around the Box B, but I ain’t been able to get her alone.”

Only complete honesty pleased the Boss.  He may not always like the answers, but James knew he’d be dead if he didn’t tell the complete truth.

“And, why haven’t you killed her?” the voice remained calm, but the eyes betrayed frustration.

James knew he needed to tread lightly or suffer the consequences.  He wasn’t sure how to do that, though, and he hesitated.  A bit too long it seemed.

The Boss unfolded himself from his chair and walked around his desk.  In one smooth movement, the man leaned himself against the front of the desk.  James swallowed hard as the Boss completed his stance by placing his palms on the desktop and crossing his legs at the ankles.

The mask he wore helped little to assuage James’ fears.  The Boss required anonymity.  Sometimes they met at night, but today the mask ensured James couldn’t identify the man at a later date.

James had to look up at the Boss standing over him.  His overstuffed leather chair grew more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Now tell me,” the Boss prompted.

“Butcher Boden hovers at her side,” James explained.

The Boss laughed.  “Why do you think I put you on the job with French?  He’s too lily-livered to face Butcher Boden.”

James stood before answering, recognizing the Boss’s momentary mirth and flattery as a chance to stand.  “You want him alive, and I don’t want him gunnin’ me down after. I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t know who killed his wife.”

“At least you think things through,” the Boss stated as he returned to his seat behind the desk.

James nodded.  “I plan to live through this thing.”

“What are your plans?” the Boss questioned.

James shrugged.

“Tell me you have plans, James,” the Boss rose again.

“They’re at the sketchy stage,” James replied.

“You’d better get them into the detailed stage right quick.  I need her taken care of soon.” 

“Well, he won’t just hand her over to me,” James stated sarcastically.

The Boss harrumphed.  “You got that right.  Boden isn’t the type to hand over anyone he thinks needs protecting.”

“Met him before?”

“No.”

Despite the mask, James figured the Boss lied to him.  He felt the man knew Boden well.  He decided to test the waters.  “I might have to kill him if he gets in my way.”

The Boss held up his hand.  “Make sure you kill him as a last resort.  He’s got friends in high places, and I don’t need anybody breathing down my back just now.”

James nodded and left. 

B
Y OCTOBER IT WAS
time to go to town again and Boden dreaded it even more now than he had in previous months.  He’d put off his trip to Devils Lake as long as he could.  If he didn’t go to Kern’s soon, he and Willow would spend the coming months scavenging for food.  Besides, Willow needed new clothes, warm, thick ones.  The weather was fast growing cold.

Recently, she had been wearing one of his old coats.  The thing swallowed her.  He smiled to himself.  She looked adorable in it, like a child playing dress up.

“What are you smiling about?” the woman of his thoughts asked as she came to stand beside him.  She stood on the bottom rail of the corral, making her nearly his height.  He turned his back to the fence and leaned back against it, facing her.

“You in that old coat of mine,” he said as he absently adjusted the aforementioned coat about her neck.

She smiled then, too.  “The coat isn’t as ridiculous as the gloves.”  She held up her hands and laughed.  “My fingers are at least two inches shy of the tips.”

He took one of her hands in his and squeezed it.  She was right; the gloves were even larger on her than the coat.  Boden took the glove off of her right hand and the glove off of his left hand.

“Here, let’s see,” he said, his hand held up, palm out, fingers fanned.

He waited for her to put her hand against his.  Inexplicably, his chest tightened as he anticipated her touch.  He tried to control his feelings, but the closer he got to her, the more he wanted to be close to her.

Willow glanced cautiously at him, placing her hand against his.  The gloves hadn’t told the whole story.  Her hands were much smaller than his own.  Her fingers were shorter, thinner.  Her palms softer.

Ezra realized then how he must appear to her.  Large, able to crush her if he so chose.  Men had crushed her.  That thought made him curl his fingers around hers.

She looked at him questioningly, but she returned his gesture with one of her own.  She curled her fingers down around his.  She looked out at the horses eating in the corral and seemed to enjoy the quiet of the moment with him.

The horses laid their ears back as they fought for their fair share of feed.  Willow’s gelding, Reliance, had yet to find his place in the pecking order.  That meant he was at the bottom of it.  While the other horses fought for every bit of feed, he stayed out of their way, moving on when another horse challenged his right to eat. Not Kitty, she nipped and kicked her way to one promising position after another and none of the other horses challenged her, not even Boden’s stallion, Beast.

Ezra and Willow stood quietly for a while, and he gently rubbed his thumb along the side of her palm.  He was surprised when she spoke.

“I don’t understand you,” she stated matter-of-factly.

It warmed him that she now opened up to him.  But what did she mean?  He asked her just that.

“You’re a man, yet—” she began, then stopped.

He tried to lighten the conversation with some humor.  “I’m glad you noticed.”

She shook her head and smiled.  “I guess I’m trying to say you’re not like most of the men I’ve known.”

“Thank God,” he muttered.

“I have.” She said the words so quietly he barely caught them.

Emotion he’d stuffed down for years threatened to choke him.  He shifted uncomfortably.

She surprised him with another question. “How’d you get into bounty hunting?”

“Anger mostly,” he said honestly.  “I wanted to bring criminals to justice and make good money doing it.”

“You are a force when you’re angry,” she agreed.  She looked up into his eyes, “But I think it’s more like righteous indignation.”

“Think you’re splitting hairs a bit?” Boden asked, a rueful smile on his face.

“Not at all.”  She looked away from him into the corral.  She thought hard about how to explain herself.  “Roberts was angry, a lot, and you’ve never been angry like he was.  He took selfish satisfaction in his anger.”

“Can’t say I ever took satisfaction in turning men over to be hanged, and never in having to kill them outright.” Boden thought on her words for a minute.  “I wanted justice, and I was qualified for the job. I was also in desperate need of money.”

“If Roberts had possessed your talent, he most definitely wouldn’t have used it for good,” she said.

“Ironically, I have my father to thank for my size and my skill with a gun.”  Boden slipped his arm around her waist.  Both had made him intimidating to other men. He’d learn long ago to put his natural talents to good use.

“You have yourself to thank for the man you’ve become,” Willow said.  He heard the sincerity in her voice and couldn’t resist setting her straight.

“Actually, I have Marshal Owens to thank for that.”  Boden thought of the lawman who’d taken a scared kid and helped him learn to become a strong man.  “He ran across me out on the prairie, and I couldn’t shake him after that.  I rode with him for a few years.  He taught me how to stay alive, and he taught me what made a good man.”

She turned in his arm and faced him, “If he was a marshal, how’d you become a bounty hunter?”

A cool breeze stirred and lifted a dark tendril of hair.  It shone under the sun, and Boden tucked it back behind her ear. “It paid more, but I never expected to become more notorious than most of the criminals I chased.”

Now he possessed more money than he knew what to do with and just as many enemies.  It seemed he’d captured nearly everyone’s son, brother, or nephew.  The life he’d led would most likely haunt him for the rest of his days.  He’d realized too late that the money wasn’t worth it.

Peace.

That was all he’d ever wanted.  Now it seemed he wanted something more.  He wanted the trust and the love of this woman.

He would make sure he got both.

“You surprised me when you insisted we marry,” she said.  “I wondered for a bit if you had a screw loose.”

He chuckled.  “You weren’t the only one.”

“Now that I’m coming to know you, I’m more surprised you weren’t already taken,” Willow said.  He could see the vulnerability in her eyes after she’d made that statement.

“I had no desire to be the kind of husband a woman dreaded and feared.  The type of husband my father had been.”

His father, Carter Boden, had often disappeared for weeks at a time, leaving Ezra and his mother fearing his return.  The elder Boden would come home about the time Ezra and his mother dared to grow comfortable and secure.  Then he’d set about destroying what little security mother and son had managed to accumulate.

His father had been a pillar of his community, and as far as Boden knew, he still was.  His mother had never dared to defy his father.  If only his mother had been strong, she might have had the courage to stand up to his father.  It probably would have gotten her killed sooner, but at least she wouldn’t have died slowly.

“I doubt you're anything like your father,” she said quietly.

“And you have far more strength of will than my mother possessed,” Boden said.  “You’ve kept fighting, and I appreciate that about you.”

“I was ready to die that day on the gallows,” she admitted in an effort to deflect his praise.

“I sure as hell couldn’t tell,” he said.  A rueful grin spread across his face.  “You fought me tooth and nail that whole day and into the next.  I've captured grown men who’ve given me fewer troubles than you.”

She laughed.  “I made things a bit harder than they had to be, didn’t I?”

“And I admired you for it,” he said before he thought.

He leaned in a bit closer to talk to her, and at the same time, she turned to speak to him.  The air between them thickened.  He could smell her scent, her breath, longed to taste her lips, but he held back, wary of making her uncomfortable in front of his hired hands.  He didn’t want her to feel cheapened by public affection.

Willow broke the thrilling awkwardness of the moment with a brief kiss to his cheek.  With that, she was off.  She headed toward the house a few steps before turning back to look at him.

“Supper will be ready by the time you’re finished with the chores.” She turned her back to him then and walked away.

Ezra, a mess of jumbled emotion, headed to the barn.  He still hadn’t told her about their upcoming trip to town.  She wasn’t going to like it one bit.

To tell the truth, neither was he.

NATHAN FIGURED IF JAMES
looked at Willow one more time, he’d have to shoot him.  No one else noticed the way the man’s eyes kept drifting to his best friend’s wife, but he noticed.

And Nathan wasn’t sure why the man kept looking.  Willow wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, merely walking across the barnyard to let Boden know supper was ready, and yet the man’s gaze was riveted.

Nathan came alongside the man and offered him one of the cigarettes he’d just rolled. A good bit of tobacco usually got him the answers he sought.

“Thanks,” James said as Nathan lit the end of his smoke.

“No problem.”  Nathan lit his own.  “Figured a smoke would keep your mouth from hangin’ open.”

Nathan’s comment had the desired result.  James’ glance snapped from
Willow to him. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’.  She’s a looker all right.”  Nathan laughed to set the man at ease.  “I catch my mouth hangin’ open once in a while myself.”

“She’s a right pretty woman,” James conceded, relaxing enough to take a puff on Nathan’s offering.

Nathan supposed Boden would knock his teeth out if he heard what he said next, but he had to know how deep James lust ran. “She’s a mighty fine looking gal. She’d sure keep a man warm on cold winter nights. Wouldn’t have minded being the man who won her in that contest in Devils Lake.”

“Me either.”  The other man sighed.

Nathan had discovered what he wanted to know.  The man was just fascinated with Boden’s wife.  Harmlessly infatuated.  At least harmless while he and Boden were around to keep an eye on her.  Boden appeared set on doing just that.  The man strode up to his wife just then and snaked an arm about her waist.  She lifted her face for a light kiss.

Memories of sharing such intimate moments with Laura broke through the wall Nathan had erected.  He was nearly drowning in his memories when James’ question interrupted his thoughts.

“The boss always wear his guns?”  James seemed to ask the question casually, but Nathan’s ears perked up nonetheless.  He thankfully set aside his memories to study the puzzle that was Henry James.  The man was up to more than lust.  Nathan was suddenly sure of it.

“Always,” Nathan stated, throwing his cigarette to the ground.  Nathan would keep a very close eye on Henry James. “And so do I.”

JAMES SUCKED THE LAST
drag from the cigarette and watched the foreman walk away.  He never figured the man suffered from lust for the boss’s woman.  Boden wouldn’t appreciate having his most trusted man desiring his wife.

His confidence in the foreman’s lust lessened when he watched the man follow Boden into the barn later.  Perhaps it was a good thing he’d kept his detailed fantasies to himself.

The foreman had been baiting him, testing him.  He was thankful he’d been no cruder than any cowhand he’d ever met.  He hadn’t said how he wanted to trap her beneath him while her husband watched helplessly.

No, he figured he’d have been dead before finishing the telling of that fantasy. He threw the butt of his cigarette to the ground and headed for the barn. He hated the damn chores he had to do in order to keep up the pretense of needing a job.  Course, the money Boden paid him wasn’t a bad incentive. The man paid his help well.

James stepped into the shadowed barn and felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle.  He looked to his right just as a shadowy figure stepped away from the wall.

“It’s time you were moving on,” the Butcher said, materializing out of the shadows.

The man cut an intimidating figure as he strode closer to James.  He reached to his hip, and James’ throat dried.  Did the man plan to gun him down?

“Here’s the money I owe you.” The Butcher dropped a small sack of coins into James hand.

“I thought you needed help?” James asked.  He willed his hands to steady as he dropped the money as casually as he could muster into his coat pocket.

“Things have changed,” Butcher Boden said simply, and James knew better than to press the issue. 

“I’ll get my things.” James began to turn away.

“They’ve already been loaded on your horse.” Boden nodded to a stall. 

Sure enough, his horse waited with packs loaded. “I’ll be on my way then.”

“Make sure that you are,” Boden said simply, but there was a wealth of meaning in those words.

James led his horse from the barn and mounted up.  Could he take care of Boden and his wife before he left? Not a chance.   The Butcher stood in the door of the barn, the truth of his skill born in the way he held himself and in the steel of his eyes.  He had most definitely underestimated the former bounty hunter.