Chapter 18 #2
Marshal Goodrich rose from his rocking chair in front of the Marshal’s office and strode across the sidewalk. He stopped in the open doorway of the stagecoach and looked in, then released a surprised, “Wyatt?”
“He wasn’t robbing it, Marshal. I swear.” Sheridan scrambled out of the stagecoach. “He was trying to stop me from leaving town.”
Marshal Goodrich smiled. “I believe you. Wyatt MacLean is no stagecoach robber.”
She pointed to Ace, standing with his hand on the stagecoach door, his expression smug. “This man shot him!”
Marshal Goodrich looked from Sheridan to Ace, then finally back to Wyatt. He suppressed a chuckle, which made it sound like he was choking. Sheridan glared at him. “Help him! He needs a doctor, not the inside of a jail cell!”
“I’ll take care of it, Sheridan.” He turned toward Ace. “Just leave him with me.” The marshal reached into the coach and offered his hand, helping Wyatt to exit. “Can you walk?”
“I can walk.” He looked up at Ace climbing into his seat. “Thanks for not killing me.”
The man grunted as he laid his shotgun over his lap. “Next time, you might not be so lucky.”
To Sheridan’s mind, Wyatt didn’t seem angry.
Not even upset. In fact, he was grinning, which made her furious.
He’d taken much too much of a risk. Her anger was tempered by the simple fact that he’d done what he did because he loved her.
It still didn’t negate the point that he’d done something so utterly stupid.
There were so many things she wanted to say to him at this moment, but she feared there might not be any coming back from those words.
Instead, she pulled in a breath, then untied Brigadier from the back of the stagecoach and stood with him in the road.
“You better marry that man!” Mrs. Evans leaned out the window and waved as the stagecoach pulled away, leaving the three of them on the sidewalk.
“Let’s take a look at that leg.” Marshal Goodrich bent down and inspected the wound, which was still oozing blood. “The bullet’s still in there. Doctor Ben will need to remove it.”
“Hurts like hell, Dev!” Wyatt groaned, which struck her to the core, as if she felt his pain just as much as he did.
“I bet.” Devlin wrapped his arm around Wyatt’s waist and let him lean against him. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
A short time later, Sheridan sat across the table from Lucy, her emotions jumbled, but she knew one thing for certain.
Wyatt MacLean loved her. Without a doubt.
What Katie had told her was a lie, a complete unadulterated fabrication.
The fact that Wyatt came after her, getting shot in the process, proved it.
“He’ll be all right.” Lucy patted her hand. “My husband is the best doctor in three counties and Wyatt’s wound didn’t seem so bad. I’ve seen worse.”
“I know. It’s just…the waiting is killing me.” She stared at the coffee Lucy had poured for her. It was still untouched, but there was comfort in the aroma wafting from the cup. If only Wyatt hadn’t been so stupid.
“How did this happen? How did Wyatt get shot?”
Sheridan looked at her. There was sympathy mixed with curiosity on her face. She might as well tell her. It’ll be all over town before nightfall anyway. It was probably all over town now. She took a breath and told her everything. “I don’t know what he was thinking.”
“It’s simple, Sheridan. He loves you. And you love him.”
“I do, but—” Her response was interrupted when the door opened and Doctor Ben stepped into the kitchen. She rose from her seat, fearing the worst.
Doctor Ben smiled. “I was able to remove the bullet. He’ll need a few days to recover, but he’ll be right as rain before you know it.”
Sheridan couldn’t help herself. She launched herself into Dr. Ben’s arms, overwhelmed with emotion. “Thank you!”
“He wants to see you.”
She rushed out of the kitchen, leaving the door wide open, and ran around the side of the house to Ben’s office. She let herself into the small waiting room, took a deep breath, and entered the examining room.
“Are you staying?” Those were the first words out of Wyatt’s mouth. He sat up on the examining table, his trouser leg cut off just above his thigh, exposing a thick white bandage. He didn’t look worse for wear. In fact, he was still smiling, that same stupid grin he wore before.
Her gaze roamed over his face, then focused on his eyes, which were gleaming, not with pain, though she was sure he was hurting, but with hope. She couldn’t deny what she felt for him. She loved this man with an intensity that frightened her, yet, at the same time, made her feel free. “Yes.”
His smile widened as he reached out and clasped her hand. “Will you still marry me?”
She did want to marry him, wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. “Yes, but we’ll have to postpone until you’re back on your feet again.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘No’?”
He slid off the table and drew her into his arms. “I’m not postponing.
I’m not waiting. If I have to crawl down the aisle to marry you, that’s what I’ll do.
” He dropped a kiss on her lips. “In two days, when my folks are here and His Honor, Mr. Peabody, can stand in front of us, you and I will become man and wife.” He kissed her again. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Joy filled her, making her heart beat a little faster, and she could do nothing other than agree.