Chapter 4
MARA
Hiding a wince, I hold Emmaline tightly and gingerly shift further away as my husband—the word is so distasteful even thinking it—climbs up beside me in the black surrey. With its fringed top and red velvet cushion, it feels too fancy for someone like me.
Raking a hand through his dark brown hair, he plops a matching hat over it and gathers the reins. Either this seat is too small or he’s too big because he’s pressed too closely against me for comfort. Maybe both.
At the click of Warren’s tongue and a little slap of the reins, the horses take off from in front of the doctor’s house. Was it only yesterday I was so determined for us to die in order to escape Crowley’s brothel?
“You and Emmaline doing okay?” His grin seems to be permanently etched into his face this afternoon.
Almost unsettlingly so. I can’t remember a time when I smiled as easily as he does.
“I’ll go as easy as I can because I don’t want you hurting all the way home.
Hopefully the seat’s soft enough for you. ”
I brush a finger over my sleeping baby’s pouty lips, and they pucker at the touch. “Yes,” I reply quietly. “We’re all right.”
And I am, surprisingly, despite my lingering soreness and tiredness.
But being clean and wearing one of the two dresses gifted to me by Mrs. Smith has done wonders for making me feel human again, even if they’re a bit too big.
She’d insisted upon it, telling me my former clothes were ruined beyond repair.
I’d put up a token and futile resistance, but I’m grateful.
If I never see that ridiculous buckskin dress again, it will still be too soon.
And even Beatrice had given me some clothes and blankets for Emmaline, saying her own little girl didn’t need them anymore. I don’t know if anyone has ever been kind to me simply for the sake of being kind.
Kindness has always been cloaked so heavily in demands and expectations that every trace of it disappeared when I searched even harder for it. As a child, I didn’t automatically assume everything was transactional. But every hard-learned lesson since then has taught me nothing less.
I don’t want Emmaline to experience any of those lessons. My tiny baby looks like a little angel in one of the dresses now. A sweet little angel in a white dress and matching bonnet.
The way my new husband boldly claimed her as his own blood has shame creeping over me for how I’d held her at arm’s length at first. She didn’t deserve that, and I can only be thankful that she’s too young to hold it against me.
I know the mark on her hand isn’t her fault.
It’s just so hard to look at the permanent stain and not see him and feel the evil things he did to me.
I don’t think he lives here in Hope’s Stand, but I don’t want to find out.
My arms tighten around my little bundle. But what if he does live here and he sees me? Or worse, her hand? There will be no denying the matching marks. A shiver runs through me at the thought of what he might do.
“Cold?” Warren throws an arm to the seat behind us and pats around. “I think my brother stuffed a blanket somewhere around here before we went to the fair last night.”
“No, I’m good. Just…” Unsettled. Worried for the future. Wondering if I can ever possibly grow to trust him. “How far do you live?”
“Oh, about thirty minutes or so once we hit the outskirts of town.”
“I see.” Whether that’s far enough, I don’t know, but anywhere away from that little room is a start, at least. I didn’t get to see much of Hope’s Stand when I was brought here, and I don’t want to see much of it now.
As much as Warren believes his name will be enough to protect us from the townspeople’s ridicule, I still don’t want to tempt fate.
Nor do I want a chance encounter with... with him.
A hum carries on the air, and once Warren turns onto the main street, a crowd of people comes into view. “Shit,” he mutters. “Forgot about the fair going on tonight again.”
“Warren,” a man calls out through the buzz of voices. “Hold up there, will you?” The afternoon sunlight hits the gold star on the man’s chest as he rides up on his dappled gray mount.
“Sure thing, Sheriff Palmer,” Warren says easily, pulling the surrey to a stop.
Instinctively, I hold Emmaline tighter and inch closer to my husband.
Only one man. As much as I hate being this close to him, he said he’d protect us.
My heart thumps unsteadily until I realize I’ve never met this older man before. At least not that I remember.
“Who do we have here? Howdy, miss.” From under a dusty brim, the sheriff flicks a curious gaze over me, pausing on my baby. “Saw you rounding the corner and coulda sworn you had Old Widow Hester beside you. Figured she bamboozled you into escorting her around again.”
Warren snickers and eases an arm around me, staking his claim like all damn men do.
I try not to stiffen, but I can’t hide the distasteful curl of my lips.
Maybe it’ll look like a semblance of a smile, at best. “It might break her dry and dusty heart, but I’m married now.
This is Mara Shay, my wife. And this,” he says affectionately as his other huge hand cups my baby’s tiny head, “is my daughter Emmaline. Look at that nose, Sheriff. Don’t you think she looks just like me? ”
Good God. Charm drips from his voice as he lives up to his end of the bargain of publicly claiming us.
And with the way his chest swells with pride and the lines of his face soften, even I’m almost persuaded he fathered my child.
I turn my shoulder slightly to hide Emmaline from the other man’s view as he gives her a cursory glance.
“Well, I’ll be damned, son. Spitting image, I’d say. Uh, pardon the language, ma’am.” The sheriff doffs his hat with an embarrassed chuckle before his easiness drops. “When’d you get yourself hitched?”
“Yesterday.”
Sheriff Palmer’s eyes narrow as an eyebrow quirks up. “Yesterday, eh? And your daughter…?”
“Was born last night,” Warren answers firmly without any hesitation.
The sheriff casually rolls a cigarette and lights it as his horse shifts.
“Now that’s mighty interesting,” he says on a puff.
“Seems like all kinds of interesting things are happening around here lately because Joe and Chance bit the ground.
Somebody found ‘em a few hours ago, but they were already deader than a doornail. You hear or see anything suspicious last night or this morning?”
Warren’s fingers flex ever so slightly as I choke on my next breath.
Both of them dead? For good? Elation warring with disbelief, I dare to peek sideways at him, but he’s calm as can be.
Slipping those damn fingers down my shoulder and around my tense waist, he leans in and presses a scruffy cheek to mine.
“Not a thing. We were at Doctor Smith’s all night and until just now on account of little Emmaline. ”
“That so.” It’s not a question. Pushing his hat back, the sheriff leans forward to get a better look at Emmaline as a small noise escapes her in her sleep. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you known each other?”
Oh, Christ. He suspects something. I should have known this wouldn’t work. Not with me being who I am.
Warren’s chuckle travels through my back as he nods pointedly at Emmaline.
“Well, I don’t claim to be the smartest of all my brothers, but I’d say it’d have to be at least around nine months or so, wouldn’t you, Sheriff?
” Both men laugh before Warren caresses my face with a slow, lingering gaze.
“Truth is, I’d been looking for Mara for months now, and it wasn’t until last night that fate was kind enough to let me find her.
And just in time, too, because I got to see my little girl come into the world. ”
I force a weak smile around my grimace. Good Lord, this man has such a flannel mouth. I don’t know whether to be worried that he can lie so smoothly or grateful that he’s doing it to keep his word to me.
“Glad things worked out for you, son. Seems just like yesterday when my own daughter was born. Nothing else like it,” Sheriff Palmer says gruffly.
“Anyway, nobody else knows anything about Joe and Chance. If I had to guess, I’d wager their actions finally caught up with ‘em and they turned on each other.
Serves ‘em damn right, the bastards.” His head jerks in my direction.
“Sorry for the language, Mrs. Shay. Should be minding my words in front of a lady.”
Mrs. Shay? And a lady? If he only knew I was the furthest thing from one.
And I’m shocked at his feelings about Joe and Chance.
I ease away from Warren, but his fingers grip my waist in a silent message to be still.
Realizing I probably ought to respond to keep up the ruse, I stiffly nod in acceptance of his apology.
“Well,” the sheriff says as he gathers his reins, “keep a hand on your gun, Warren, in case we got a snake on the loose. A man needs to protect his own above all.”
“That he does. Now if you’ll excuse us, I need to get my little family home. We’ve got some sleep to catch up on after the long night we just had.” Exchanging a nod, Warren clicks his tongue and urges the horses to move again. “See you around, Sheriff.”
“They’re both dead?” I hiss under my breath. “And move your arm.” The weight of it is suffocating and altogether too warm.
His damned smile and arm don’t budge an inch. “Hold up now, wife. Everyone needs to see us together, and us just sitting side by side ain’t gonna cut it. So if you don’t want me touching you, you’re gonna have to touch me. Can you hold Emmaline and my arm at the same time?”