The Lawman’s Frontier Bride Read online

  Tate grinned. "Nathan and I have an understanding. I gave him my word that I wouldn't try and escape." Tate ran his gaze across the bars. "So he gave me some temporary freedom." He gestured to Gretchen. "C'mere," he said.

  Gretchen walked slowly into the cell. She'd never set foot inside a jail cell before. For a moment, it felt strange, standing confined, next the man who'd helped her win her freedom.

  "I'm sure glad to see you," Tate said. And he sounded like he meant it, she reflected. He jammed his hands nervously into the pockets of his pants. "How are you settling in at the Cameron place?"

  "Fine. Sophie couldn't have been any nicer to me. And they have my trunk with all my belongings."

  Tate smiled. "That's good."

  "I don't know what I would have done if it had all been lost," she admitted.

  "With someone like Nathan on the case, I don't think there was much chance of that happening," Tate said.

  Gretchen nodded. "He does seem to know what he's doing when it comes to keeping the law in this town."

  "And beyond, I reckon."

  That last comment struck her as odd, but before she could respond, Tate moved quickly toward her. There was familiar look in his eyes now. She'd seen that look a few times during their journey. His eyes were bright, as if he had something on his mind. Something important he needed to tell her.

  She assumed he was going to speak. Instead, he reached out, gently took her arms, and moved closer. His touch awakened every nerve. Gretchen's mouth opened. She saw Tate's gaze drift down to her mouth. Then his head dipped forward and his lips settled upon her mouth. Her heartbeat quickened as he swept her into his arms, holding her close to him. Her mind became an exquisite blank as she savored the warmth and taste of Tate's lips.

  Gretchen felt her body soften. She circled her arms around Tate's powerful shoulders. Relief swept through. Since she'd arrived at the Cameron home, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Tate. And now she was back in his arms. Where she belonged.

  The muscles in Tate's shoulders tensed. Lifting his head back, he ended the kiss and gazed into her eyes. "Gretchen," he breathed. His eyes were filled with a wondrous joy, the same delight which was coursing through her body right at this moment.

  Gretchen lifted a hand and caressed Tate's stubble-covered chin. She smiled up at him. "You don't need to say anything. I feel exactly the same way."

  His eyes widened. "You do?"

  Gretchen nodded. "I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since I left the jailhouse."

  His features softened with a mixture of joy and relief. "When I close my eyes, all I can see is your beautiful face," he murmured.

  Once again, her heartbeat quickened. Her spirit filled with delight as she gazed in wonder at the man who'd just opened himself up to her. And this time she knew there was no deception. The time for that had passed.

  Tate leaned his head down and kissed her again. This time his kiss was gentle, even patient. The urgency had passed, now that she had confessed her joy to him. The kiss felt like it would last an eternity.

  Once again, Tate lifted his head back and gazed at her. There was more than wonder in his eyes this time. Something else lurked at the corners of his eyes.

  Still embracing her, Tate dragged in a deep breath. "I love you, Gretchen," Tate whispered.

  His words slammed into her, catching her unawares. She gasped. Holding his gaze, she felt her lips open. There was a long silence. All she could feel was the pounding of her heart.

  Tate's gaze was unmoving. Resolute. He was waiting for her to say something. She could see the expectation written across his features. Gretchen held onto Tate, feeling for a moment that, if she let go, she would tumble to the floor of the cell.

  She knew she should have been happy to hear him say those words. But, for some reason she could not understand, all she felt was complete shock. Every nerve seemed to quiver as she searched her mind frantically for the right words.

  Then the worst thing happened. Tate released her from his tender embrace and took one step backward. To Gretchen, that one step felt like a thousand miles long. She watched as Tate's brows furrowed. A sudden darkness masked his face.

  Tate dragged a deep breath in and slumped down onto the single bed. Lifting the fork on the plate of food, he thrust it into the pile of vegetables. A heavy weight sank in the pit of Gretchen's stomach. Clasping her hands close against her middle, she lifted her chin and peered down at Tate. He was hurt. And so was she.

  Suddenly she knew what she had to do. "I have to go, Tate," she said sharply.

  Gretchen strode to the open cell door. As she did so Tate rose from the bed and moved quickly toward her. Stepping through the open cell door, Gretchen turned quickly and, obeying a terrible impulse, she closed the door on Tate.

  Tate's features showed astonishment as he gazed through the cell bars. Gretchen leaned against the bars, feeling the cold metal against her fingers. Emotion swirled through as she peered at Tate's aghast expression. She knew that, if he wanted to, he could push open the door. But, he'd given his word to Nathan. And if he was anything, Tate was a man of his word.

  She tried to smile at Tate but, for some reason, she couldn't do that. Instead, she murmured: "Goodnight, Tate."

  As she turned, Tate cried out. "Gretchen!" She halted, taken aback by the urgency in his voice. Tate wrapped his fingers around the cell's bars. "Do one thing for me."

  "What is that?" she asked.

  "Promise me you won't leave the Cameron house tonight," Tate pleaded.

  Gretchen frowned, asking herself why he would ask such a thing of her. "Why are you asking me to do that?"

  Tate's jaw tightened. Suddenly, he seemed almost desperate. "Promise me, Gretchen. No matter what happens. No matter what you hear. Stay with Sophie." It wasn't a request now. It was an order.

  She waited a moment and then nodded. "Okay, Tate. I give you my word."

  His shoulders slumped and he leaned against the bars. "I meant what I just told you, Gretchen." And then his gaze softened. "With all of my heart."

  A tightness twisted in her chest. She felt her eyes begin to moisten with emotion. And then she strode to the door of the jailhouse. Tugging the door open she stepped outside onto the boardwalk. Nathan and Sophie were standing a few feet away. They turned at the sound of Gretchen emerging. Both Nathan and Sophie looked surprised to see Gretchen leaving so soon. Maybe they'd been expecting her to remain for a long time.

  "I'm a little tired," Gretchen explained, realizing how unconvincing those words sounded.

  "I'll take you home," Sophie said. She touched her husband's arm and came to Gretchen. Concern clouded Sophie's face as she hooked an arm inside Gretchen's.

  Gretchen saw Nathan make his way back inside the jailhouse and close the door behind him.

  Sophie didn't say a word to Gretchen as they both made their way across Main Street. And for that, Gretchen was truly thankful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was some time after midnight when the door to the jailhouse was thrust open. In stepped one of the deputies Nathan had assigned for duty on this fateful night. Tate sat up on his bed and saw the middle-aged, portly man, whose name was Ralph, stride up to the desk behind which Nathan was seated.

  "Sheriff. They're heading this way!" Ralph roared breathlessly.

  Nathan jumped up like someone had prodded him with a stick. "How far away?"

  "They'll be here in a few minutes," Ralph replied. "I rode as fast as I could." Ralph looked across at Tate. "You were right about them coming here by the trail from east." Ralph shook his head. "There's about twelve of them."

  Realizing the time had passed for staying in the cell, Tate pushed open the door and stepped out. Ralph's eyes widened. A prisoner just walking out of a cell wasn't something he'd see every day, Tate told himself.

  Tate went to Nathan's desk and looked at the Colt lying on the table behind Nathan. He pointed at the gun with the holster and belt lying next to it. "I n
eed those."

  Nathan didn't even hesitate. He handed the gun to Tate. Then Nathan went to the rifle rack and pulled down a Henry rifle for himself and another for Ralph. After a few moments of loading, all three men stepped outside and paused on the boardwalk. It was dark on Main Street. Even the saloon was closed, by special order of the sheriff. The only lights were those cast from upstairs windows above the various stores along the street. With the clear moonlit sky there would be enough light to make sure no mistakes were made, Tate told himself.

  "Is everyone in place?" Nathan asked Ralph.

  The other man nodded and then headed off into the darkness.

  Nathan came to Tate. "You're sure you want to do it this way?" he asked.

  Tate nodded. "There's no other way, Nathan."

  Nathan smiled grimly. "You know the setup. When we're needed, we won't be far away."

  Tate reached down and curled his fingers around the butt of his Colt .45. "I know how to handle Frank Wolfe."

  Nathan rested a hand against Tate's arm. "Don't go taking any foolish chances. Let's play this straight. Just like we agreed."

  Tate glanced northward along Main Street. The gang would be riding down from that direction any moment now. "You better get into position, sheriff."

  Nathan smiled and tipped the front of his Stetson. "You too, marshal."

  It seemed both men understood what needed to be done. Tate watched as Nathan strode across Main Street. He looked like a man out to do his job. Nathan was a fine sheriff, Tate told himself. He felt safer knowing Nathan had his back. But now it was Tate's turn to finish what he'd started weeks ago.

  As Tate walked across the street, heading for the bank, he felt the tension in his body ease. For the past few hours he'd sensed that tension building, until now he felt like a coiled spring about to unwind. Dealing with evil was like that, Tate told himself as he stepped up onto the boardwalk in front of the bank. You had to be prepared for anything. Bad men could be full of surprises. There was no telling how they'd react once they realized they wouldn't be getting what they wanted. There would be no easy money tonight in Inspiration.

  Tate took up position, leaning against the post. He peered up toward the far end of the street. Still, there was no sign of the renegades and their leader. The scent of gold had proven too much for Frank Wolfe. Tate had judged the man correctly. Just like all men of his kind, there came a point in their disordered lives when their passion for money warped their judgment. It was then that mistakes were made. And Frank Wolfe was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. The one which would bring his so-called career to an end.

  One more glance in the direction of the end of the street confirmed that still the outfit hadn't arrived. Tate took a moment to think about what had happened earlier when Gretchen had visited him in jail. He sighed, feeling the same heaviness in his heart which had tormented him since she'd stormed out of the jailhouse.

  Tate had laid his cards on the table and she had turned her back on him. He still could hardly believe it had happened. He felt the pain which had lanced into his heart when he'd seen the confusion in her eyes after he'd uttered the words.

  He'd told her he loved her.

  And it was true.

  He'd known it ever since he'd rescued her from the gang. But he'd kept that truth to himself. Just like at every other time in his life. He'd hidden how he was feeling. Maybe he'd feared how she'd react. Well, he'd been right to be cautious. She had rejected him. Plain and simple.

  But, back there in the jailhouse, an uncontrollable feeling had swept over him as he'd embraced Gretchen. As he'd kissed her, a boldness had awakened inside him. A recklessness, even.

  He'd told himself the time for running from the truth was over. That if he didn't tell this amazing woman how he really felt about her, he might regret it for the rest of his life.

  And so, he had spoken those fateful words. Expecting she'd receive them with joy, he'd been shocked to see them being greeted with confusion. With pain.

  Tate ran a hand through his hair. He knew he had to clear his mind of what had happened earlier. He couldn't let that affect his judgment. Otherwise he might end up face down in the dust of Main Street.

  A movement caught his eye. Squinting in the semi-darkness, he saw the shape of a rider. Then others close behind.

  They had arrived.

  Tate straightened and touched the Colt in its holster. He was ready. He watched as the gang rode up Main Street. They moved slowly. The men peered from side to side, checking the boardwalks for any sign of movement. Tate knew that Nathan's men wouldn't make a move until the time was right.

  Tate glanced at the bank. Its windows were shuttered. There was no gold in there, Tate told himself. At least not the riches he'd hinted at in his conversation with Frank Wolfe. The corner of Tate's mouth creased with a satisfied smile. He was looking forward to disappointing the man who'd ended Jack's life. Sometimes it took time for justice to be served. But when it was delivered, it truly was right and good. Tate thought about some of the things Gretchen had said about her faith in God. Her faith was strong. She believed in the triumph of good. And, deep down, so did Tate.

  As Tate watched the gang coming closer, a thought drifted into his mind. In spite of Tate's own wavering faith, maybe God had seen fit to bring Gretchen into his life so that good could prevail. So that what was right could be done. At that thought, a sudden strength arose within Tate. Encouraged by those good feelings, Tate stepped out from the boardwalk and moved to the middle of the street. Facing the advancing men, Tate stood tall, drawing his shoulders back.The men were only a few yards away now.

  Seeing Tate, Frank Wolfe lifted a hand. Behind him, the gang drew their mounts to a halt.

  Frank peered at Tate and smiled. "So, you're here," the man said. His voice echoed across the empty street.

  Tate nodded. "I told you I'd wait for you, Frank." Tate extended his arms out by his side and smiled. "I'm a man of my word." Tate tried to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

  Frank got down from his horse. Hitching his gun belt up around his thick middle, Frank took a few steps toward Tate and then halted.

  Frank glanced at the exterior of the bank. Tate saw Frank's eyes narrow. The man ran his gaze across both sides of the silent and empty street. A sudden darkness clouded Frank features. "This is too easy, Tate," Frank said evenly.

  Tate felt a chill run up his spine. "What do you mean?"

  Frank tilted his head and fixed Tate with a steady look. "Have you checked the bank out?"

  "Sure I have," Tate replied.

  Frank frowned. He turned to face his men. "He says its okay," Frank announced. Some of the men laughed. Tate saw Billy, his nemesis from Refuge, scowl at him.

  Frank walked toward the bank. His steps were slow and measured. He stepped up onto the boardwalk and peered at the shuttered windows.

  Frank turned to Tate, examining him with a curious look on his face. Once again, Tate's spine chilled. He slowly drew in a deep breath and tightened his arm muscles. He was ready. He could see Frank was suspicious. The eyes of the other men were locked on Tate. If it came to shooting, thirteen to one weren't good odds, Tate told himself.

  Frank sighed and walked to the edge of the boardwalk, looking down at Tate.

  "What's the problem, Frank?" Tate asked.

  "I'll tell you what the problem is, Tate." Frank ran a hand across his stubble-covered chin. "I don't believe there's any gold in there."

  Tate's heart began to pound faster. He lifted his brows. "What makes you say that, Frank?"

  Frank stepped down from the boardwalk and faced Tate. He was only a few yards away, and Tate could see the darkness in the man's eyes. "I've been thinking about what you told me back at the cave." Frank shook his head. "The more I thought about it, the more it didn't add up. And then I got to thinking about what Billy told me."

  Tate glanced at Billy and saw the grin on his face.

  Frank continued. "Billy was telling me all about that li
ttle woman you seemed so concerned about. How you stopped him from helping himself to her money." Frank frowned. "And then you did a whole lot to make sure you brought her to this dump of town. Those weren't the actions of a man ready to steal and kill to get what he wants."

  Tate's jaw tightened. He swallowed, realizing that the time had arrived for him to stop pretending. Tate didn't like Frank even thinking about Gretchen in those terms.

  "That's because I'm not that kind of a man, Frank," Tate stated firmly.

  Frank tilted his head. "Yeah? So what are you then?"

  Tate took one step toward Frank and halted. "I'm the man you've been running from all these years."

  Frank's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

  "You remember the last time you were in Laramie?" Tate asked.

  Frank's blank expression told Tate that, as far as the man was concerned, one crime was no different than the other. He'd committed so many, he probably couldn't even remember them individually. Indignation flared into life inside Tate at that thought.

  "Let me remind you, Frank. You carried out a raid on town. You got chased down. A young deputy got killed." Tate fixed Frank with a steady look. "That man was my best friend."

  Tate had expected some kind of violent reaction from Frank. But what the gang leader did next was shocking and infuriating.

  Frank just shrugged. "I don't recall," he said with a heavy, dismissive tone. Then Frank's eyes narrowed. "You telling me you've come all this way from Laramie to bring me in?"

  Tate smiled. "That's exactly what I'm saying, Frank. Your time is up." Tate glanced at the twelve gang members. "And it is for them, too."

  Some of the men laughed nervously. But not Frank. He stared at Tate for a long moment. "Who are you?"

  "I'm Tate Campbell. US marshal. And I've come to bring you to justice."

  Frank peered at Tate, holding his dark, acid gaze on him. Then Frank started to laugh. Quietly at first, and then with increasing force. Tate guessed what was coming next. Ignoring Frank's demonic laughter, and the roars of mirth coming from the men, Tate kept his eyes on Frank's right arm.