Outlaw's Bride (34 page)

“What is it?” he asked.

“She saw us come out of the alley Saturday. She thought we were secretly meeting. I had to tell her—about me and how I knew you.”

“I'm sorry, Amelia. You shouldn't have done that.”

“And let her believe we were carrying on?” She met his gaze squarely. “No, I couldn't do that. I don't think she'll tell anyone.”

“Mattie's not one to spread gossip,” Clint said. If nothing else, he knew Mattie well enough to know what he said was true. “I'd best get going.” He retrieved his hat from a chair. “Thanks.”

As he strode down the boardwalk five minutes later, he heard someone call his name. He stopped and turned to see Andy St. Clair running to catch up to him. Pleasure filled him at the sight of the boy, and Clint leaned over to hug him.

“It's good to see you again, Andy,” Clint said, his voice surprisingly husky. He rested his hands on Andy's shoulders as he looked him over. “You've grown a foot since I saw you.”

Andy's face flushed. “Ma says I'm growing so fast that by the time she gets new clothes home from the store, they're already too small.”

Clint chuckled. He wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and steered him into the jailhouse. “Looks like your ankle's all healed.”

Andy glanced down. “It was all right a few days after you left, but Dr. Murphy wouldn't let me get out of bed.” He wrinkled his nose. “He brought these stupid books over for me to look at.”

Clint squelched a smile as he settled one hip on the corner of his desk. “He was just trying to help.”

Andy scuffed his toe against the floor. “That's what Ma said, but
she
didn't have to stay in bed and look at them.”

“Look at it this way, partner: You're all better now.”

“Yeah, but now Ma's marrying him.” Andy sighed. “He doesn't even like to fish.”

It was obvious the boy didn't like the idea of Murphy being his stepfather, which Clint could use in his favor. But his conscience balked at using Mattie's son to get to her. “I can take you fishing.”

Andy grinned. “Are you staying here for good?”

More than anything, he wanted to, but there was still a murderer to catch. Even if he could talk Mattie into calling off her marriage to Murphy, he wasn't certain she would accept his proposal. Especially since he couldn't have the wedding until he had completed his obligation to his first wife.

“I'm not sure. We'll have to see what happens,” Clint said.

Andy's smile faded. “I wish you wouldn't have left before. Then Ma wouldn't be marrying Dr. Murphy.”

Clint's muscles tensed. “Why do you say that?”

“She was real sad when you left, then the doctor came calling almost every day. He made Ma smile.”

Clint's breath hitched in his throat. What he wouldn't give to see Mattie's smile again. “So he made her smile, huh?”

Andy hopped onto the desk to sit beside Clint. “Yeah, but if you look close enough, her eyes are still sad. I think she was hoping you would come back and when you didn't, she decided to marry the doctor.”

Elation filled Clint and he crossed his arms deliberately.
So Amelia was right, Mattie. You weren't being honest with her.
He'd learn the truth one way or another at the dance. “How's Herman?”

Andy shrugged. “Okay, I guess. He sleeps even more than he used to. Ma says he's getting old.”

Clint had grown fond of the crusty codger, just as he'd come to like Walt Atwater. The two men had looked after Mattie, cared for her like they were related by blood, and for that alone, Clint respected each of them.

“I'll stop by and see him one of these days. Maybe we can all go fishing again.” He paused, smiling. “Maybe we can even talk your ma into going.”

“She went fishing with me and Herman yesterday.”

Clint was surprised, but glad—the stubborn woman worked too damned hard. “Did she catch Fred the Second?”

Andy laughed. “She said she had him and he got away. Herman and me didn't believe her.”

Clint chuckled, imagining Mattie's mock indignation. He could picture her with one hand planted on a curved hip, her lips tipped up at the corners and her eyes dancing with mischief. His heart stumbled, reminding him how much he had to lose if she married the doctor. “Sounds like you had fun.”

The boy sobered. “She didn't have as much fun as when you came with us.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I could just tell.” Andy turned and gazed into Clint's eyes. “She cried.”

Clint's fingers curled into fists as his breath faltered. “Why? Was she hurt?”

“No. She said it was a woman's per—” He frowned, obviously unable to remember the exact word.

“Prerogative?”

Andy nodded vehemently. “Yeah, that's it. What does it mean?”

“That it's a woman's right. Kind of like being a mother, I guess,” Clint replied. She'd only cried once while he'd been there, after Andy had fallen in the well. It just wasn't like the Mattie he knew to be crying over something trivial. Hell, she'd even remained dry-eyed when he'd left—something Clint himself had barely managed to do.

Was Mattie that upset about marrying the doctor? Or was something else bothering her?

He had too many questions without answers, but he'd have to curb his impatience until the dance Saturday.

“Come on, let's go over to the bakery and get some bear claws,” Clint said.

Andy grinned and hopped off the desk.

Smiling, Clint followed the boy out of the office and down the boardwalk.

“Did I tell you Ma lets me drive the wagon now all by myself?” Andy asked as they walked.

Clint rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. “That's real good. Are you helping her more around the house?”

“Yep. I'm even doing Herman's chores—he lets me.”

Amusement filled Clint, but he kept his humor hidden. “I'll bet he does.”

Clint opened the door to the bakery and the warm scents of yeast, cinnamon, and sugar surrounded him. Andy ducked under his arm and slipped in ahead of him.

“Hello, Ellen,” Clint said to the red-cheeked woman behind the counter.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff,” she replied with a smile that transformed her plain face to pretty. “I see you brought a friend with you today.”

“This is Andy St. Clair,” Clint introduced. “Andy, say hello to Miss Willoughby.”

“Hello,” Andy said with a shy smile.

“You're Mattie's son? Goodness, you've grown,” Ellen said. “I'll bet you'd like something to eat.”

Andy nodded eagerly as he eyed the baked goods on the counters. He pointed to the largest bear claw on the tray. “I'll take that one.”

“You're just like my brother. He would always pick the biggest one, too,” Ellen said, then turned to Clint, her eyes twinkling. “And what about you, Sheriff? The usual?”

Clint laughed. He'd been in her place twice and had bought a bear claw each time. “Yep. I always did have a weakness for them.”

He gave her a couple of coins and took the bag from her outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“You come again, and bring Andy with you,” Ellen said. “Say hello to your mother for me, Andy.” She paused, her expression slipping. “And give her my good wishes for the upcoming wedding.”

“I will,” Andy said after a moment of hesitation.

“'Bye, Ellen,” Clint said, then ushered Andy out of her place ahead of him. He was puzzled by the woman's seeming reluctance to have Andy pass on her well-wishes.

He shrugged the odd feeling aside and sat down on the edge of the boardwalk, his feet planted on the ground below. Andy joined him and Clint opened the bag, giving the boy the largest roll, then took the other one himself. Grinning at one other, they each took a monstrous bite of their bear claws.

His mouth full, Clint glanced around and spotted Dr. Murphy crossing the street, headed their way. The man had a sour look on his face, like he'd just bitten into a rotten peach.

“Afternoon, Beaudry,” Murphy greeted with as much friendliness as a skunk-sprayed porcupine. He turned to the boy. “Does your mother know you're here, Andy?”

The kid's face tightened and his eyes narrowed. “She knows I'm in town.”

Andy definitely didn't like Dr. Murphy.

“Maybe you should head on home,” Murphy said. “I'm sure your mother will be looking for you soon.”

“Let him finish his bear claw first,” Clint said, irritated by the man's dictatorial tone. “Mattie won't mind.”

Dr. Murphy's eyes flashed with impatience. “It seems to me you're not in any position to presume what Mattie will or will not mind.”

Andy's lips thinned and he opened his mouth, but Clint dropped a hand on his shoulder.

“Mattie trusts her son, and Andy's old enough to come visiting by himself,” Clint said.

The doctor's jaw muscle clenched. “Perhaps, but I know she worries about the boy, and Mattie has enough on her mind without having to be concerned about Andy's whereabouts.”

Clint frowned. Was the wedding that much of a burden on Mattie? What was the doctor hiding? Was he worried that Clint might steal her away from him?

He had every reason to, because Clint intended to do just that. But only if Mattie didn't love Murphy.

What if she doesn't love me, either?

Mattie had given herself freely to him, and she wasn't a loose woman. There had been more than a physical joining of their bodies—much more. He shifted uncomfortably on the boardwalk. The memory of that one night never failed to make him grow as hard as the wood he sat on.
Damn.

He looked up at the doctor, hoping his thoughts weren't reflected in his face. “As soon as Andy is finished, he'll head on home, right?” He glanced at the boy.

“Yeah,” Andy replied reluctantly.

“All right, then.” Dr. Murphy's expression softened and genuine fondness crept into it. “I'll see you later, Andy. I'm coming over for supper tonight.”

He patted the boy's head and gave Clint a terse nod, then climbed the steps and entered the bakery. Clint heard Ellen's friendly greeting, then Murphy said something to her and she giggled.

He turned his attention back to Andy.

“I suppose Ma will want me to go to bed early,” the boy said, rolling his eyes. “She always does when Dr. Murphy comes over.”

Jealousy sucked the breath from Clint's lungs and he didn't have a comment for the boy. He pictured Murphy and Mattie in the parlor, listening to the waltz from her music box. He imagined Murphy holding her hand, moving closer to her …

He closed his eyes tightly as a wave of anger and possessiveness surged through him. They were betrothed—Murphy was perfectly within his rights to kiss her and …

At least Murphy is marrying her. I didn't give her any promises.

Clint forced the painful pictures from his thoughts and managed a smile. “I suppose I'll catch it from your ma for ruining your appetite.”

A grin slipped across the boy's face. “Naw. I'm bottomless.”

Clint chuckled and ruffled Andy's dark hair—hair the same color and texture as Mattie's.

What if Clint couldn't stop the wedding? What if he lost Mattie because he had been too damn stubborn to see what was right in front of him?

Across the street, Pete Layton stood hidden in the shadows between two buildings as he watched Beaudry and the boy. Layton narrowed his eyes. Beaudry was supposed to be dead. He'd shot him himself and seen the bullet hole.

But there Beaudry sat, big as life, his shiny silver badge winking in the sunlight. The bastard had been following him for so long that Layton had finally decided he had to take care of the problem. Though Layton had killed for money many times, no one had paid him to take care of Beaudry.

This was personal.

How could he have known that woman had been a marshal's wife? A year ago, when Layton had been looking, she'd been handy. He'd taken what he wanted and ensured he would never be identified. The problem was the marshal had caught a glimpse of him as he'd ridden away and the bastard hadn't let up, so Layton had stopped him.

Or so he had believed.

He shifted his scrutiny to the boy, whom Beaudry seemed to have feelings for. Who was he?

Layton dropped his cigarette and ground the butt into the alley with his heel. Keeping to the shadows, he walked over to the livery where he'd left his horse.

He spotted the livery owner by one of the corrals and joined him. “Howdy, Luther.”

The big man turned, surprised. “You back already?”

“I got a question for you.” He motioned toward Beaudry and the boy. “Who's the kid with the sheriff?”