The Marshal and Miss Merritt Page 18

  Quin grimaced, stepping to the edge of the porch and saying gruffly, “Glad you’re home.”

  Bowie nearly swallowed his teeth. Before he could recover from that, his brother added, “You’re a good lawman, Bo. You’ve learned things I probably never would have.”

  “Thanks,” he said faintly. Quin was trying. Bowie could do the same. He wanted to apologize for what he’d said to his brother the day they had buried their parents, but he saw the same apology in Quin’s eyes so all Bowie said was, “I’m glad I’m home, too.”

  Blowing out a breath, Addie threw up her hands, giving both men a look. “That’s it? Aren’t you going to hug or something?”

  “No!” they exclaimed in unison.

  She rolled her eyes. “Men.”

  Bowie grinned. “Thanks for supper, Addie. And thank Elda again for me.”

  He urged his horse into motion.

  “Come for supper on Friday night,” his sister-in-law called out. “And bring Merritt.”

  “I’ll ask her.” Addie had obviously guessed there was something between him and his landlady.

  “Good.” His sister-in-law sounded pleased.

  He heard his brother ask, “Why did you tell Bowie to invite Merritt to supper?”

  “Oh, Quin,” Addie said in exasperation. “Because he likes her.”

  Chuckling, Bowie rode off. He was a good half mile from the house before he realized he was grinning like a fool. Maybe because he and his brother had put things right, or at least started to. He hoped they could do the same with Annie and Chance.

  And maybe, Bowie admitted, a big part of his good humor was because he was crazy about Merritt Dixon. No sense lying to himself anymore.

  A fat white moon poured light across the hilly landscape, providing a clear view. Bowie kneed Midnight into a gallop, anxious to get home and see if Merritt was still up.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about talking to the marshal.”

  “I think you’ll be glad,” Merritt said to her foster brother. “Bowie’s fair. He can help you.”

  Saul had climbed through her bedroom window moments ago and now stood to the side, his back pressed against the wall. In the flickering light of her lamp, she could almost see the nervous energy radiating through the rangy lines of his body.

  He eyed her speculatively. “You keep calling him by his first name.”

  “Yes.” She still wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell Saul she was involved with the lawman. And certainly not that he was living in her house.

  Bowie hadn’t returned from the 4C, but she hoped he would before Saul left.

  “Last night, I saw you on the porch with a man wearing a badge,” her foster brother said. “You’re courting, aren’t you? Is that why you’re trying to get me to turn myself in?”

  “I’m doing that for you, you oaf. You’d be safer if you surrendered.”

  “What about your vow never to get involved with another lawman?”

  “He’s different.”

  Saul barely lifted the curtain and shifted his gaze, searching the darkness.

  “Do you think someone’s following you?” Merritt asked.

  He shook his head. “Just making sure.”

  Seconds ticked by. She didn’t say anything, hoping Saul was considering her suggestion that he turn himself in or at least talk to Bowie.

  “You said if I helped Cahill nab Hobbs, he might help me out. Do you really think so? He wouldn’t shoot me on sight?”

  “I’ve gotten to know him and he’s fair. You’d be safe.”

  “Do I have you to thank for that?”

  “No.” Something didn’t feel right. “He knows who you are and he hasn’t sent a posse after you.”

  “How does he know who I am?”

  “When you told me that you knew Hobbs was involved in the Cahills’ murders, I told Bowie. He wanted your name, and when I wouldn’t give it to him, he talked to a couple of my friends. All they knew was that I had a foster brother named Saul. That led to him sending a wire to Mama and Papa asking about you.”

  Disbelief widened Saul’s eyes. “And they told him?”

  “All they could give him was your last name since none of us have seen you for the past two years. Besides, that’s the least of your worries. What you’ve done is wrong and you know it.”

  He stayed in his place next to the window. “And you still think he would go easier on me?”

  “He wants Hobbs, and putting him behind bars would definitely be better for you, too. Otherwise, he’ll always be a threat.” If Saul talked to the marshal, he wouldn’t have to keep looking over his shoulder. “If you help Bowie expose Ca-Cross’s former marshal, I know he would do everything he could to help you.”

  “What does that mean? Keep me alive?”

  “It might,” she answered soberly. “Bowie knows everything you’ve done and he has told me he’s willing to talk to you. He wants whatever information you can give him on Hobbs.”

  Saul scratched his head, eyeing her speculatively. “I haven’t told you everything.”

  She went still inside, dread slicking up her spine. “What else is there?”

  He snuck another look out the window and her patience stretched thin. “Saul!”

  Shifting his attention back to her, he leaned his head against the wall. “That Cahill fella who was shot a month or two ago?”

  “Quin?”

  Saul nodded. “Huck and I sent him a note, telling him if he gave us two thousand dollars, we would tell him the truth about his parents. That they were murdered.”

  It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. “That’s extortion!”

  “We needed the money,” he defended.

  “Heaven forbid you get an honest job!” She thought of Lefty, who had more understandable reasons for turning to crime and hadn’t done so.

  He laughed shortly. “I almost didn’t get the money. His woman showed up instead of him and all hell broke loose.”

  “Addie was there?”

  “Yes. If she had just stayed out of it, tossed down the money and ridden away, nobody would’ve gotten hurt, but she didn’t. Then before we could grab the money, Cahill arrived, guns blazing.”

  “You shot Quin!” Anger burned through her.

  “It wasn’t me. Huck shot Cahill, then Cahill killed Huck!”

  “It could’ve been you who was killed, Saul. And you could’ve gotten Addie killed.”

  “That wildcat did just fine,” he muttered, thrusting his left arm toward her. “She cut me good.”

  “In self-defense!” Merritt barely glanced at the healing scar on his forearm. Her chest ached as though she had been slammed into a wall. “I’m surprised there isn’t a wanted poster out on you.”

  “They couldn’t see my face. I wore a hood.”

  “What else?” she demanded.

  “That’s all, I swear.”

  She didn’t know whether to believe him. Not anymore. Not now that she realized just how far he had crossed the line.

  “So, now that you know all of that, do you still think the marshal will help me out, if I help him?”

  His words ripped at something deep inside her. For the first time, she looked at her foster brother without the veil of their past and she hated what she saw. He had no remorse. None.

  He was more worried about what might happen to him rather than what he’d done or the people he had hurt. If he was sorry at all, it was because he might have to suffer the consequences of his actions.

  In a flash of blinding, painful clarity, Merritt realized the only reason her foster brother was telling her this was because he was hoping she would put in a good word for him with Bowie. “You don’t even care that you’ve done wrong.”

  How long had Saul been more bad than good? Why hadn’t she seen it?

  Because she had wanted to believe her foster brother would change. But he never did. Two years ago, he and his outlaw friends had been involv
ed in the Cahills’ murders, then they had gone to prison for robbing a train. When Saul got out of prison, he hadn’t come home or tried to find Merritt. He had taken right back up with those same men.

  She was done looking the other way for her foster brother. Tears stung her eyes. “I can’t believe all the things you’ve done.”

  What if there was more? What if he still wasn’t telling her the whole truth about everything?

  Enraged, her voice hardened. “I want you to surrender, put yourself in Bowie’s custody.”

  Saul pushed away from the wall. “I’m not doing that!”

  “If you don’t, I’ll tell him everything myself.”

  “You would turn me in?”

  She ignored the hurt in his voice. “You’ve broken the law. Maybe done murder, almost killed two other people. You can’t get away with that!”

  “I came here to talk to you about this, Merritt. Getting that marshal involved was all your idea.”

  “You said you came to talk about meeting with Bowie. That was a lie. You didn’t come because you were sorry for what you’ve done. You wanted to find out if I would put in a good word for you with him.”

  Raw hurt slashed at her. “Why do you do things like this? How can you do them?”

  He searched her face and what he saw had him backing toward the window. “I’ve never seen you so mad.”

  “I never knew until now just how far past the law you’d gone.” Suddenly, she saw how foolish she had been to believe in him when he had no intention of changing. She was so mad, her entire body burned.

  Saul’s eyes hardened into a flat meanness she had never seen before. “If you’re going to be this unforgiving, I can just imagine how the marshal will be.”

  “Oh, he’ll be much more forgiving than I am.”

  Saul cursed and scrambled out the window, one boot hitting the frame.

  She rushed to the window in time to see him vault onto the back of his horse and ride away. Betrayal, then fury, squeezed her chest until she could barely breathe. The blood rushed in her ears.

  She had offered him numerous chances to turn himself in, to let Bowie help him, but he hadn’t wanted to do it.

  Well, if he wouldn’t go to Bowie, she would. It was time for Saul to pay for what he’d done.

  Wrenching open her bedroom door, she immediately noticed the darkness of the house. The lamp she had left burning at the bottom of the stairs was out, probably thanks to Mr. Wilson or Lefty when they had retired for the night.

  She grabbed the one from the table at the head of her bed and marched across the dining area, forcing herself to tread lightly on the stairs so as not to wake up the two older gentlemen.

  She hadn’t heard Bowie come in, but she had been so angry at Saul, she doubted she would’ve heard anything shy of a twister ripping through the house.

  Just thinking about her foster brother brought a fresh surge of anger. She reached the top of the stairs and turned right, walking softly past Mr. Wilson’s bedroom to Bowie’s at the end of the hall.

  Stopping in front of his room, she knocked softly. When there was no answer, she tried the porcelain knob. The door was locked. If he was here, he must be asleep.

  Wrenching disappointment drove her temper higher. She needed him!

  Whirling to leave, she stopped short as he rounded the stair railing and came toward her. Immediately, relief threaded through her anger.

  The play of lamplight across his strong arms and shoulders made him seem even bigger, broader. He moved with a slow predatory grace that had her heart thudding hard. Impatient, trying to rein in her anger, she waited for him to reach her.

  Her gaze moved over his wide chest to the gun belt slung low on his hips. She absently noted that he carried his boots in one hand. His socks glowed in the shadowy light.

  He reached her, holding up his boots. “Tried to be quiet. I was hoping you’d still be up.”

  “Ace said you went out to the 4C.” Her voice was tight, the words pinched. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Quin and Addie are home.”

  She caught the tang of his shaving soap, his dark male scent tinged with a hint of sweat and salt. “How did things go between you and your brother?”

  “Good. They were good.”

  “I’m glad.” She truly was, but it was all she could do to contain her outrage.

  Bowie stepped closer, frowning. His gaze, silver in the dusky light, searched her face. “What’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

  His gaze slid down her body, then back up, sparking a different kind of heat. “I’m fine. Just…mad.”

  The word seemed inadequate for the molten pulsing of her blood.

  Bowie dug into his trousers pocket for his key and unlocked the door, nudging her inside.

  He set his boots on the floor, watching her carefully. Leashed tension coiled in her body, and her normally soft features were cold and unyielding. She was furious, but also…hurt?

  She paced to the opposite wall, the light from her lamp washing his room in amber. “Saul was here!”

  Bowie tensed. She’d said she was all right. She looked all right, so he relaxed slightly. Still, he didn’t like how easily her foster brother could get within arm’s reach of her. She might not fear the man, but he was a threat. To her and to Bowie’s family.

  As she marched back in his direction, he noticed that she was shaking. The lamp wobbled in her hold. When she reached him, he barely managed to extricate the burning light before she stalked back across the room. He set it atop the dresser to his left.

  “I thought I’d convinced him to come talk to you.” Restless energy vibrated from her petite frame. “When he got here, he said he’d been thinking about it.”

  Bowie gathered Saul had changed his mind. Before he could ask, she spun and headed back toward him, her shoes making a soft scuffing sound on the floor. “He wanted to know if I believed you would really listen to him or just throw him in jail. I said of course you would listen!”

  Bowie palmed off his hat and hung it on the peg next to the washstand.

  “He tried to extort money from your brother!”

  Twice, Bowie added silently, catching a whiff of her fresh scent.

  “Twice!” She flashed two fingers at him, turning in a whirl of skirts to march across the room.

  Whoa, she was as primed as a gunpowder fuse. She was going to wear a permanent groove in the wood floor.

  Deciding to give her some space, maybe let her temper burn itself out, he braced one shoulder against the wall. Her blue-and-green-striped skirts swirled, occasionally revealing a white petticoat as she went back and forth.

  “Saul was in on it with Vernon Pettit and Huck Allen. The first time they tried to get money from Quin, Vernon Pettit was killed. And the second time, it was Huck Allen. It could easily have been Saul!”

  So, Bowie’s suspicion that her foster brother had been the third man at those meetings with Quin had been right.

  “Even though Saul wasn’t the one who shot Quin, he could’ve been.” Merritt barely took a breath. “And he put Addie in the line of fire. When your brother showed up and drew on him and Huck, they used Addie as a shield!”

  From his sister-in-law, Bowie knew that Allen had been the one who had actually done that, but Merritt didn’t seem of a mind to make the distinction. Sure seemed like her foster brother had confessed a lot.

  “Addie cut him with a knife. On his left forearm.” Fire sparked her green eyes. “Did I already tell you that?”

  He shook his head at her rapid-fire words. That scar and the one on the left side of his neck would make it easy to identify the outlaw when Bowie finally caught him.

  “After he told me about Quin and Addie, he asked if I thought you’d still go easy on him after learning that.” Her voice rose, but she must’ve remembered Mr. Wilson was just down the hall because her next words were forceful, though hushed. “He just kept asking. He told me he was sorry, said he knew he needed to d
o the right thing.”

  The bewilderment in her voice mixed with anger. Pain darkened her eyes as she looked at Bowie.

  She was hurt. He understood that. Her foster brother had been deceiving her for some time, maybe the whole of their lives together.

  She had loved Saul like a brother for a long time, still did.

  “The more he talked, the more I realized that he wasn’t sorry at all.” Her voice was thick as she walked back and forth in front of Bowie’s bed, staring hard at the wood floor. “He was only telling me these things in the hope that I would put in a good word for him with you, convince you to go easier on him. I think he wanted me to do that whether he gave you more information or not.”

  Bowie had shown leniency for her before, agreed to let her try to convince her foster brother to do the right thing, but he couldn’t do it this time. Now Bowie would have to make Saul do the right thing.

  Merritt would be hurt and disappointed, maybe even feel betrayed. The thought of it didn’t sit well with Bowie, but he wasn’t budging.

  She walked to the opposite wall. “He had no intention of turning himself in or talking to you. If he doesn’t stop running and face what he’s done, I’m afraid the next time I see him will be in a pine box.”

  He didn’t want that for her, but Saul had made his choices. The sooner Bowie had Saul Bream in irons, the sooner he could expose Hobbs for everything he’d done and the better for everyone.

  She slowed, her gaze lifting to his. The sadness, the loss, in her eyes had his chest going tight.

  “He’s an outlaw.” Hurt trembled beneath the words. “My foster brother is an outlaw.”

  Anger at Saul rose up inside Bowie, at how badly, how often, the selfish bastard had hurt Merritt.

  She wiped away a tear. “I know you’ve been listening. Don’t you have anything to say?”

  He braced himself for her reaction. Would she be indignant? Insulted? Just plain mad? “I’m just waiting for you to ask me to go easy on him. Like all the other times.”

  She paled and stopped dead in the center of the room. A strange look flitted across her face.