Renegade Most Wanted

chapter Eight



Sitting on her own front porch with her head in the shade and the afternoon sunshine warming her feet was a delight. She could not have been more content…or distressed.

Confusion had her missing the final stitches in the party dress she had spent hours by lamplight sewing for Lucy.

Hadn’t it been said that home is where the heart is? That being true, Emma was home. The boards creaking under her rocking chair, the rustle of the prairie grass blowing clear to the horizon and Pearl’s happy whinny from the corral told Emma that this was where her heart would always be.

What had come over Matt, asking her to leave it all behind?

How could he make her feel like a thousand Fourth of July fireworks going off at once, lick her very private flesh, making her all soft and drippy, only to get out of the tub and walk away? Oh, how she’d like to shake him, or stick him with this needle, or kiss him until he couldn’t think.

It was a fortunate thing for Matthew Suede that he was far away mending fences at this moment.

“Ouch!” Emma sucked a drop of blood welling up from her finger and tried to clear her head. Woolgathering over things that could never be would end only in heartache or poked fingers.

Truly, the thing she wanted most was right here under her feet. After Matt and his gang moved on, it would still be here, her own place in the world.

Emma paid strict attention to the last foot of hem to be stitched. She cut the thread and put the needle into the sewing box.

“Lucy!” she called. “Come and try on your new dress.”

When she received no answer she folded the yellow-and-pink fabric across her arm and went in search of her. Lucy was not allowed to wander farther than the creek, so Emma walked that way.

She stopped at the corral.

“Hello, Pearl.” She stroked the horse’s long jaw. “Did you hear where that little pixie and Red got to?”

A snort and a nuzzle to the ribs didn’t tell her much, but Lucy liked the barn. More than once she’d found the child asleep on a fresh pile of straw with her pups curled around her.

The inside of the barn was dim and somewhat cooler than it was outside. Until the trees she’d planted all around her property grew, the shade of the barn would be a rare treat.

Chickens scratched in the hay and birds twittered in the rafters, but otherwise the barn was silent with no lingering laughter or puppy yaps to indicate that Lucy had come inside.

Here in the barn, life was tranquil. Emma hated to leave the cool shelter and walk all the way to the creek in the harsh sunshine.

She sat on a bale of straw. It wouldn’t hurt to take a moment to sit, to listen to the quiet sound of her breathing, let it slow down and make her peaceful inside. She closed her eyes, she breathed, she felt the soothing beat of her heart.

Life slowed to one perfect moment until… “Funny place for a nap, darlin’.”

She had to open her eyes. She could hardly pretend he wasn’t standing in her barn.

Mercy, she should not have opened her eyes. She ought to have gotten up and walked out of the barn without looking at him.

How could she have known Matt would be standing nearly over her stripped down to his jeans? Her gaze wandered up his denims. It stopped for an instant at his bare navel peeking out from a chestnut whirl of man hair, then it slipped upward to linger on his chest, which was misted with a sheen of sweat from the work he had been doing. Strength etched the muscles of his arm where it gripped a pitchfork with hay dangling from the end.

She might have been able to wish him good-afternoon without her nipples puckering in recollection of cool water and hot lips if she hadn’t looked into his eyes.

He gazed down at her with the same red-hot wanting as he had in the tub. Blast the man! He probably saw the same thing in her eyes.

“Can’t a woman get a moment’s peace in her own barn?” Anger rushed to her aid. How dare the man look at her like that when he wanted to crush her dreams!

“Not if she wants her animals fed.”

“She does want her animals fed. Until the end of summer. Between now and then, she doesn’t want to be kissed, or…” She curled her fists into tight balls, cutting her worn fingernails into her palms. She did want that. That and more. “Or…seduced.”

She stood and turned toward the door. Have mercy if the simmer in his eyes hadn’t turned to fast boil. If she didn’t run for the door, she would be done for sure.

So she ran. She spun about, halfway out of the barn door, to see him leaning against the pitchfork.

“Don’t ever ask me to leave here again.” When she ran this time it was so he wouldn’t see the single tear streaking down her face.

* * *

The last thing Matt felt in the mood for was a party, but in another hour, guests from all over the county would be rolling in.

The house was finished, furnished and ready to show off to the neighbors. There would be dancing and good food, laughter and fine conversation. Hickory Willie’s Jug and Fiddle Band would play and Matt would sing along.

Only he would know that the fun-loving tunes came only from his throat. His heart couldn’t rustle up a grin for the world. Ever since he’d asked Emma to come to California, her smile had been closed up against him.

He couldn’t blame her. They had struck a bargain. Like an idiot, he had tried to change the rules at the worst possible moment.

As events stood now, it didn’t matter whether Emma smiled or frowned. Even if she had lavished him with attention these past few days, the songs in his heart would be dried up.

The house was finished and summer was nearly over. When he took his family to California, he’d be leaving his heart here.

Matt glanced into the mirror that hung by a wire on the soddie wall and guessed he was presentable enough. His hair was washed, his face shaven. He tugged on his Sunday vest, brushed off some dust, then went outside and strode toward the house in the fancy party boots he had purchased from Rath and Wright’s.

Walking into the parlor, Matt felt his heart ease a bit. Lucy rolled about on the floor with the pups in a yellow-and-pink-flowered blur. He hoped that the promise of new pups in California would ease the ache of losing these.

“Lucy, those dogs belong outside,” Emma called from the bedroom. “Mind your dress so you don’t get it dirty.”

Lucy stood up and gathered a pup under each arm. She hadn’t noticed him at first gazing down at her with his heart in his throat.

“You look so handsome, Papa.”

“You look fetching yourself, little lady.”

Lucy balanced a pup on each hip, turning her head this way and that.

“Mama Emma curled my hair with the hot iron and molasses.”

“You’ll be the prettiest little girl at the party.”

She giggled, whether from the compliment or the puppy paws tickling her ribs, he couldn’t tell.

“I know. Mama Emma already told me that.”

“You take those little dogs outside now, and don’t get your dress dirty.”

“I won’t, Pa.” She stepped carefully down the porch with a pair of tails smacking the yellow bow on the back of her dress.

Matt walked down the hall and stopped at Emma’s open bedroom door. She stood before her dressing mirror tucking her hair into a tight bun. She glanced at him in the glass but didn’t speak.

“Lucy looks as sweet as a lump of sugar. It was good of you to go to the trouble for her.”

Emma gave him one crisp nod in reply and continued twisting and tucking her hair.

“I sure do miss your smile, darlin’.”

Her reflection in the mirror frowned at him.

“Do you think you might spare me one if I never try to drag you off your land again?”

She turned but didn’t look at him. She studied the ruffle at the hem of her dress and folded her arms over her chest. “No more trying to woo me into changing my mind?”

“That won’t be easy, darlin’, but I promise.”

Finally she smiled at him. It wasn’t the usual bright and shining Emma smile, but it would do for the moment. “You look like sunshine.”

This time the smile shone from her eyes. He had made her a fool’s promise, one that would be harder than rocks to keep.

“So beautiful.”

Too beautiful to be living out here alone. Any one of a dozen horrible things could happen to her. What if Billy was right about Emma needing Woody? His cousin saw the long and short of it plain enough.

The problem was that Billy cared for Emma in a different way. His belly wouldn’t feel as if it had barbed wire twisting in it. Clearly, Billy’s fingers didn’t itch to punch the farmer in the gut.

In his way, Billy was the more loyal friend. Matt ought to be enough of a man to face what needed to be done and leave Emma safely in the arms of another.

It would soothe him to make up a song about Emma’s pretty yellow party dress, to yodel out a tune about her inner sunshine. But it would break his heart, too, because it would be Woody’s song. The sodbuster might be the one to see the sun rising with her each morning and setting with her in the evening.

Emma would be Woody’s sunshine.

“You clean up just fine yourself, cowboy,” Emma said.

“I think I’d like to see your hair down loose tonight. Would you mind?”

Her smile told him that she wouldn’t. She reached into a drawer beside her dressing mirror and pulled out a long fat yellow ribbon the same color as her dress. She laid it over her shoulder and turned to the mirror, plucking her hair out of the bun.

A golden wave that swallowed him whole rolled down her back. He shouldn’t touch her—there was a promise to be kept. Even if there weren’t, touching would make the parting so much harder when it came.

How long had he waited, though, for a moment just like this?

He walked up behind her and took the ribbon from her shoulder. With both hands he spread his fingers through the long glowing strands. He let her hair loop and twist around his fingers from the nape of her neck to the curls flirting at her waist. At last he tied the ribbon in a bow at her slender neck.

Golden hair, bright yellow bow.

Woody’s sunshine.

* * *

Standing on the front porch, Emma watched a pair of buggies stirring the dust less than a quarter mile from the house. It was a relief to face the party without the shadow that had been between her and Matt lately. At least they now had an understanding. Now they could go back to the Matt and Emma they had been before…or nearly.

“Mama! Mama! Somebody’s coming!” Lucy dashed down the steps and then up again to get a better view of the approaching guests. “All the kids can play with my puppies.”

“That sounds just fine, Lucy.”

Boots thumped on the porch from behind.

“Papa, look. The party’s starting…I see kids!” Lucy hopped down the steps, one at a time.

“She brings to mind a butterfly,” Matt said. “Pretty as anything you ever saw and twice as busy.”

“It’s a sign of good health.” Emma had never seen Lucy sick and prayed she wouldn’t. The baby that Mrs. Sizeloff had gone to pray over had barely recovered and now another child in town was ill.

“Matt, do you think we should have called off the party? That’s two little ones now with the cholera.”

“Life’s got to go on. We can’t hide from it.”

Matt was right. Two sick children did not make an epidemic. Emma stored the concern in the back of her mind. For now, all she needed to worry about was feeding everyone and making sure they had a fine time.

“Here come the Sizeloffs…I can’t make out the other wagon,” she said.

“Looks like Sarah Michaels and her brother.”

Matt took her shoulders in his hands and turned her toward him. Another foot closer and it would be a hug.

“I’ll say it again—you look so pretty. I just want you to know I think so.”

Both wagons pulled into the yard at the same time.

Woody jumped out of the seat then helped his sister down with a big steady hand under her arms. Charlie and Lucy raced each other toward the barn in search of pups.

Rachael Sizeloff handed baby Maude down to her Josie and then stepped carefully off the wagon clutching his free hand.

From the barn, the twang of a fiddle and the hoot of a whiskey jug tickled the afternoon. Emma’s toes itched to be dancing. As hostess, her chances would be limited with all the visiting and welcoming to be done, but surely there would be time enough to do a reel or two with Matt?

Emma greeted Rachael with a hug and Joseph with a welcoming smile before the couple walked toward the barn.

If only greeting Woody and his sister could have been that easy. Woody’s smile at her was too warm and his handshake too long.

“You look as pretty as ripe corn in that dress, Mrs. Suede,” Woody murmured, still clutching her fingers and standing closer than he ought to.

Emma supposed that ripe corn was probably a pretty sight to a farmer, but it made her feel bright and lumpy. With the way he had taken possession of her hand she felt downright harvested.

She took a step closer to Matt, forcing Woody to let go of her hand. Matt wrapped his arm around her waist, which, she decided, did not qualify as a seduction, so she leaned into it.

Sarah sighed and shot her brother a sidelong glance. Still Woody grinned down like a smitten schoolboy.

Billy turned the corner of the barn, spotted them and strode across the yard with a smile stretching his mustache. His hair, glistening with pomade, caught the sun’s sparkle and reflected his high spirits.

“Glad you could make it, Woodrow,” Matt muttered. Cowboy fist met farmer fist in a grip that seemed too firm to be gracious. The veins on each tanned hand rose stiff over clenched muscles.

“Pleased to be here. Looks like a fine new house.”

Matt smiled for all he was worth, even though his eyes didn’t appear to Emma to shine with any warmth toward his guest.

“Matt,” Billy said, clasping his cousin on the shoulder and giving Sarah a quick wink. “Whiskey Willie’s asking for you. Sounds important. Say, Woody, since Matt’s going to be tied up with the band tonight maybe you could give our Emma a dance or two. It would be a crime to let her new dancing shoes go to waste.”

Matt, being shoved toward the barn by Billy, grumbled something about doing his own dancing.

Woody took an eager step toward her and she backed up two.

“Woodrow Vance, what’s come over you?” Sarah elbowed her brother out of the way.

“We all know what’s coming,” he whispered in his sister’s ear. Apparently the farmer was not aware of the way his voice carried, for Emma heard every word. “I just aim to be first in line.”

* * *

Emma slipped into the room that Matt had built especially for her copper tub and closed the door with a quiet click. She leaned against the wall trying to catch her breath.

Woodrow Vance danced like a bull, heavy-footed with endless endurance. It was only by claiming to need to use the privy that she had escaped him.

Woody had not been satisfied to be the first in line for a dance. He had made himself her shadow.

When she greeted a newly arriving guest, he stood beside her grinning. When she tended to the food table, he followed along nibbling this and that.

Praise be that he hadn’t felt it seemly to accompany her to the outhouse.

Emma bent to check the soles of her new shoes. It would be a wonder if they hadn’t worn through. She brushed off a streak of dirt where Woody’s boot had landed on her foot instead of the floor.

Footsteps pattered across the kitchen floor followed by a few more. Luckily they sounded light and womanly. Woody must believe that she was still indisposed, praise be!

“Isn’t this the loveliest kitchen you ever saw?” Emma didn’t recognize the speaker’s voice, but she glowed inside at the comment.

It was a pretty kitchen. It touched her with deep contentment when Matt, Lucy and the boys were gathered in it. Even on the rare occasion she found herself alone in this room, she never felt lonely.

“The stove alone would make me swoon.”

“And an indoor pump! Matthew Suede must be smitten with his new wife, for sure, to build her such a fine place.”

“I wouldn’t mind if he was smitten with me.” Several feminine voices twittered in agreement.

“And it wouldn’t be because of a house,” another unrecognized voice said with a sultry chuckle.

“Gracious, ladies!” At last a voice that Emma recognized. Mrs. Sizeloff gave a gentle scolding. “You ought to be looking at the single men. It wouldn’t hurt if one of you entertained Mr. Vance and gave our hostess a respite.”

“Lordy, Mrs. Sizeloff, he doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“I expect to see him be the first to come courting once…well, you know,” a voice said.

Emma let go of her battered shoes. The balls of her feet touched the floor with a pinch. She wouldn’t be courting anyone once Matt moved on. As much as she needed to keep the distance between them, she hadn’t met a man who could take his place.

“A widow with a spread like this one won’t be alone for long.”

A widow! The ladies didn’t know that Matt would be long gone before there was any danger to him.

“I heard that Hawker is no more than a week away.”

“Where’d you hear that, Gracie? Leo Ford told me two weeks and you know how he hears everything, working at the telegraph like he does.”

A week? Two weeks? How had the summer passed by so fast?

From the barn, Emma heard Willie plucking at his fiddle and Matt singing along. The full, soul-twisting sound of his voice whispered through the walls.

Would ever a day come that her heart wouldn’t hear it?

* * *

Singing songs while watching Emma and Woody prance about the barn made Matt feel raw and mean inside.

With night coming on, he half expected to see the farmer leading his wife off for a stroll in the moonlight. Woody Vance was wearing thin on his nerves.

The man followed Emma around the way Princess followed little Lucy. It was a wonder that his tongue didn’t hang out of his mouth, panting.

To her credit, Emma tried to direct his attention toward the unmarried ladies. But Woodrow Vance had his cap set and he didn’t appear to care who knew it.

Matt took a break from singing and sat down on a barrel behind Wille and his band. Deep in shadow, he watched Emma’s attempts to outwit Woody’s advances.

She was a lady who knew how to take care of herself in most situations. There were times, though, when a woman needed a man’s protection. For that reason, Matt clenched his fists on his thighs instead of wrapping them around Woody’s throat.

Hell, Emma would need a man to stand up for her soon, and discounting a bitter resentment toward him, Woody was a decent choice.

With the sun gone down and the barn lamps turned up, Matt’s corner had grown dark. From the shadow he watched the world going on without him. He studied things that he wouldn’t be around to see.

Jesse and his girl tapped their toes, a whirl of bright calico and new leather boots. They had the look of fresh colts, in love with their world and the joy of being alive. That would be one wedding he’d be sorry to miss.

Near the punch bowl, Billy carried on a flirtation with Sarah Michaels. He’d likely get kissed before the party ended.

As usual, Red bore watching. A gathering of young ladies ringed him. Lenore Pendragon appeared to hang on his every word. Even though Matt couldn’t hear what the boy said, it was clear enough by his body motion that he was describing the glories of a gunfight. A more refined town, like San Francisco, might be just the place to keep his charge healthy to adulthood.

Beside the barn door Woody had Emma backed up against the wall. Matt leaped to his feet. It seemed that his hands might end up around Vance’s throat after all.

Or maybe not. He sat down again, reassured by the dainty fist that Emma had curled and set in position to swing.

With the way her color rose to match the screech of Willie’s fiddle, Woody might be the one in need of rescue.

As it turned out, no one needed to be rescued or wounded. Lucy dashed up to yank on Emma’s skirt just in time to keep her from acting on her obvious intention. From the best Matt could tell, a little boy had lassoed too much of Fluffy’s attention and his daughter meant to have it back.

Emma scooped Lucy up and spun out among the dancers.

Lantern light shone gold in Emma’s hair where it hung loose and curling. Lucy’s cheeks blushed pink. Their laughter was like a campfire on a cold night.

This was a moment he’d hold in his heart for the rest of his life. No song could do justice to the sight of the two ladies he…loved… Yes, loved! He couldn’t deny that was the feeling that called him to Emma any more than he could make his heart quit beating.

If only he could make his wife understand that a home wasn’t wood and nails—it was the souls who gathered in it.

“Hawker’s cooling his guns in Wichita.” Marshal Deeds’s voice intruded on Matt’s reverie.

“That’s one of the places I’ve heard.” Matt stood up. He didn’t like the feel of the lawman looking down on him.

The marshal’s gaze shifted to Emma and Lucy galloping about the barn to the wail of the fiddle.

“Pretty little family you’ve got there, Suede.”

Matt nodded, watching the fair heads bobbing to the thump of the whiskey jug. They were a greater blessing than he could ever have imagined.

“You might want to think about keeping their future secure, once Hawker gets here.”

Thoughts of keeping their future secure were the very things keeping him in an unholy state of misery.

“You seem pretty sure I’m going to lose that fight.”

“Never heard of Hawker letting a man get his gun clear of the holster.”

“Busy lawman like you might not hear everything.”

“I hear that Pendragon would give you a fair price for you to quit your homestead. That sum of money might come in handy for a widow.”

“I reckon it would, if the lady was going to be a widow. You can tell your boss that I don’t plan to be planted on Boot Hill anytime soon.”

The marshal frowned. It had to be Matt’s imagination that Deeds looked uncomfortable.

“Interesting that since you got married, Pendragon’s bank account hasn’t been robbed.”

“Purely fascinating.” This conversation couldn’t head anywhere that Matt wanted to go, so he nodded goodbye. “I believe I’ll dance with my wife a time or two before the singing starts.”

The marshal snagged Matt’s arm when he stepped toward the whirl and flourish at the center of the barn.

“Watch your back, Suede. Hawker’s fast and nasty as sin. Doesn’t care if a fight’s fair, as long as he wins it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The marshal’s fist dropped away from his elbow. Matt took another step toward Emma, who two-stepped her way toward him with Lucy giggling in her arms.

* * *

Whatever the marshal had been discussing with Matt had made his normally congenial face grow stern. Even in the shadow, where the lantern’s glow barely penetrated the corner behind Hickory Willie and his music men, Emma watched his brows press low over his eyes.

Clearly the lawman was going to need a show of wedded bliss. Certainly she could act this part without feeling seduced.

“Lucy, baby, run along over to Mrs. Sizeloff. See her there sitting near Thunder’s stall? Maybe you can get little Maudie to laugh at you.”

“Can I stick out my tongue? She’ll laugh at that.”

“Just this once.”

Emma loosened her grip to let Lucy slide down the front of her dress. She sent the child off with a gentle pat on her backside. She turned her smile toward Matt and the marshal. Surely she could play this role without losing herself in it.

Before she had a chance to pucker her lips in devotion, Matt scooped his arm about her waist and drew her into the midst of sweating, swirling bodies.

Red pranced by, dancing with Lenore Pendragon. She ought to be having a fine time without her father here to muddle things, but she looked flustered. Red whispered something in her ear that made her frown. He arched his eyebrow, then nodded.

Something seemed odd. Lenore was a typically sweet and composed young lady, as unlike her father as water to stone. Right now she seemed unsettled.

Even though every door and window of the barn was thrown open to the night, the air inside had grown heavy with the scent of new hay, rosewater and perspiration. Every now and then the evening breeze pushed inside, drawing along a whiff of cigarette odor.

Outdoors, cowboys and farmers would be gathered in an area scraped free of brush, rolling tobacco and smoking it. Even little children knew that an errant ash settling in the grass might set off a fire that would spread far and wide faster than a pony could run.

Matt’s fingers thrumming on her back made her want to lean in and dance to the stars and back, but such intimacy had been forbidden by her own bargain.

“What was the marshal pestering you about?”

“Seems like he noticed that Pendragon hasn’t been robbed since we were married.”

“We should kiss.” She closed her eyes and tried to close her heart, but the little traitor pounded hard against her ribs.

She waited. The only thing to brush her mouth was hay dust being stirred up by the other dancers. She opened her eyes to see Matt frowning at her. A streak of brown-sugar hair cut across his forehead.

“Darlin’, there’s something else the marshal had to say.”

“About us?” Their newlywed act had worked so far. Even she almost believed they were in love.

“You won’t like it, even though he has a point.” Matt cleared his throat. “He thinks you ought to sell to Pendragon when I’m dead.”

“But you won’t be—” He shushed her with two fingers to her lips.

“I won’t be dead,” he whispered. “But I will be gone. Emma, darlin’, you will need a husband.”

Emma stopped dancing. Her skirt spun about Matt’s legs like a ribbon on a maypole. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Billy thinks that Woodrow Vance would be a fine pick.” He closed his eyes. No wonder he couldn’t look at her after spouting such nonsense. “But please, Emma, don’t start courting him until I’m gone.”

It was time for Matt to sing. He leaped onto the stage without a backward glance.

Courting! He thought she was courting! Why, Woody had been all but forced upon her all night long.

Even now the eager farmer leaned against the barn door, grinning and looking more than pleased to see her, once more, on her own.